“Do you drool while you sleep? I know I do!” enthused the man on the television. “Wish you had dryer sheets? I’ve got your secret weapon!
“Our patented combination of butter and mouthwash turns your midnight drool into sweet-smelling, easy-cleaning wax! You can even cook with it later!
“Problem solved!”
@Stealingzen responded to a call for prompts with the words “butter,” “mouthwash,” and “dryer sheets.” I admit I may have subverted his intentions on the dryer sheets a little.
All was still in Buckingham Palace. Not even the royal mice were stirring, despite the delicious royal peanut butter that had been slathered on the royal mouse traps to stop them from stealing the Queen’s royal hair ties.
They’re learning, thought the Royal Hair Tie Protector to himself. The fiends.
@Zutzy responded to my call for three nouns to base a story on with “peanut butter,” “hair tie”, and “Buckingham Palace.”
The ketchup was all gone, and it was nearly midnight. Tembothy knew that if he wanted to fully enjoy his hot dogs and his macaroni, he’d probably have to wait until morning.
Then he remembered that there was a twenty-four-hour corner store down the street!
Sadly, it was sold out.
The Little Steam Engine That Could was a celebrity! But it soon hit puberty, and like so many child stars before it, that completely ruined its career.
Before long, the LSETC was completely broke. It thought it could earn redemption by winning the Great Steam Engine Race, but it couldn’t.
The title for this story was provided by RagePyro.
“I posit that the egregious offence committed by the defendant was an act of premeditated hostiliaminity!” shouted the Loopy Lawyer.
“I object!” cried the Batty Barrister. “My client pleads insanity! He thinks he’s a creaky shovel. Look at his fez! This marriage is clearly illegaloramious.”
“Sustained,” said the Jovial Judge.
The title for this story was suggested by ThePhailhaus. I was forced to use the words egregious, creaky, fez, and shovel. Ergo, the silliness of this story is all everyone else’s fault.
It was a Thursday.
On Thursdays, Prysanthemum the Pug went to the baths from two to four o’clock. That made for prime adventuring time for his Doghouse, Dot. Glory, honour, excitement, fortune, and renown lay just over the horizon!
But first, Dot had to overcome one minor obstacle: voluntary movement.
Once upon a time, the beautiful princess journeyed to the Moon.
It was cold there. Not even the Moon Badgers were warm.
Even after the princess skinned three Moon Badgers and made a coat, she was still cold. So she set her spaceship on fire, and everyone was warm together.
They shared everything together. Every scrap of bread; every whispered word; every somber smile. They were a community: they shared a goal, a common end. After all, the only thing worse than awaiting death was awaiting it alone.
On sad days, their numbers shrank; on sadder days, their numbers grew.
The title for this story was suggested by Ragepyro.
EDIT: It’s over! Thank you to everyone who came and participated!
Wednesday, July 14, at 5 PM PST, I’ll be trying out something new that I think could be a lot of fun. I’m going to go on UStream and live-write stories for between 30 and 60 minutes (depending on how well it’s going and how much time I have).
If you want to watch and participate, head to the show page, where you can join in the chat. You can also watch via the embedded stream below.
I’ll be writing stories based on audience suggestions, and I plan to open up a Google Docs file to do the writing in, so that people can follow along as I type, if they so desire.
A chill wind was in the air, and fell beasts were on the prowl.
Or maybe they were fallen beasts. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two.
One of the beasts fell out of the sky, landing on a beast that had previously fallen.
Ah, who needs this?