“This is a massive, worthless pile of junk.”
“Don’t call my priceless rare collectibles ‘junk’!”
“They’re only ‘priceless’ because no rational-minded, intelligent person would ever agree to pay money for them.”
“Hey! I paid money for them!”
“And you’re incredibly, unbelievably stupid. Thank you for making my point for me.”
After evading terrorist capture, two men checked into a backwater motel using pseudonyms.
“Are you married?” Timothy Thicke asked Evan Edgelow.
“No,” said Edgelow. “Everyone I get close to ends up dead.”
Thicke thought about this. “You wouldn’t call us… friends, would you?”
“Not really.”
“Thank goodness,” said Timothy Thicke.
The C-12 Huron transport plane climbed, climbed, climbed, then evened out.
“This is crazy. Why are we doing this?” said Rick.
“Research, man, research. Science and stuff.”
The nervous elephants trumpeted and stomped in place.
Rick shook his head. “We ain’t in no Disney movie!”
“That’s why they’re wearing parachutes.”
For this story, I asked my family to suggest two nouns and a verb. My father suggested elephant, parachute, and stomp.
“Isn’t this dress just delicious?” Kelly enthused, twirling in front of the mirror.
“We come here so often,” said Ken. “Don’t you have enough clothes?”
“You don’t know a thing about women, do you?” said Kelly.
“Shopping bites,” said Ken. “I’m going home.”
She made him leave his credit card.
Editor’s Note: This story was based on a call on Twitter for an adjective, a verb, and an adverb. @CasperMcFadden responded with delicious, bites, and often.
The white rectangle was definitely “Milk”, and the banana-shaped scribble must be “Moon”, but the pink tangle of crayon squiggles rang no bells in Amanda’s head. At stake was Katie’s fragile artistic confidence.
“It’s a brain,” said Katie.
“Oh honey, I thought they all started with ‘M’-”
“Mom, it’s ‘Magination’!”
This Guest Writer story was written by Drew Mokris. You can see more of Drew’s work at www.LeftHandedToons.com, a very clever and very funny webcomic where he and co-founder Justin draw every strip with their “wrong” hand. Drew is also a flash animator; many of his flash cartoons can be soon on his personal website, www.SpinnerDisc.com.
“Oh yeah? Well your mama’s so fat she got hired by the fire department so people could fall out of burning apartment buildings and land on her without getting hurt! And she likes it!”
His friends hooted. “Solid comeback, mang!”
I folded my arms and sniffed derisively. “Your mama was so fat she died.”
Editor’s Note: This story was based on a call on Twitter for an adjective, a verb, and an adverb. @davefp responded with solid, fall, and derisively.
“It’s time you learned to defend yourself,” Evan Edgelow said to Timothy Thicke.
“Great!” said Thicke. “Can I learn muay thai?”
“Muay thai is an advanced–”
“Just like Tony Jaa!” said Thicke, swinging an elbow.
Edgelow caught Thicke’s arm and slammed him to the ground.
“Sorry,” he said. “Reflexes.”
I met up with Nick from www.NameYourTale.com via Twitter and really liked the new microfiction website he and some friends started up. The concept of their site is to take story titles submitted by readers and write 100-word stories based on those titles.
It’s a really cool idea, and you should head over there, read the stories, check out the illustrations that go along with some of them, and submit some titles of your own!
You should especially go over there and read and comment on the story I wrote, which was based on the title “Wrathberries“. It’s wonderful, and I’m not just saying that because I’m the one who wrote it. Ok, fine, that is why I’m saying it. But still.
“I won’t let you kill my dragon!” cried Cliven.
“He’ll become a zombie!” insisted the Veterinary Cleric. “Hundreds could die!”
“I don’t care!”
Nogard shuddered in Cliven’s arms. His eyes rolled backwards, and all his muscles went slack.
“No!” Cliven screamed. “Is he dead!?”
“Well,” said the Cleric, “kind of.”
“I need a bandaid.”
“Why?”
“Because I have a cut on my finger.”
“Why?”
“Because my knife slipped.”
“Why?”
“Because I had slippery fingers.”
“Why?”
“Because I spilled salad dressing on my hands.”
“Why?”
“Because… Never mind; I’ll get the bandaid myself.”
He made a mental note: fix the ButlerBot.