A comment on a recent post My first little apocalypse (which started as a writing exercise) made me think: Hey! This could actually turn into a longer story. I knew Blaine Arcade was looking for another prompt, so I offered it as a starting point. You can read it here. Enjoy!
Aimee swam in the pool as the helicopter buzzed overhead.
Jessica squirmed in the bed as the vibrator buzzed undercover.
Everyone ran, screaming, as the bee-swarm buzzed out of the hive.
Be careful where you stick your beak.
Someone may draw a detailed picture of a human face and be considered a great artist. Or, they might draw a detailed picture of human genitalia and be considered a menace to society.
A cat gets stoned, rolling on a catnip plant: “awww – isn’t that cute!”
A woman gets stoned, smoking a marijuana plant: “Lock her up!”
When I say “I am proud to be gay!” I will be cheered and called a hero.
When I say “I am proud to be straight” I will be jeered and called a homophobe. I shall be required to paint rainbows as penance.
When I shout in the street “I am proud to be black”, I am a civil-rights campaigner. But If I were “proud to be white” I would be given a white-robe and a matching hood.
But, can’t we just get along?
Should I say “I am proud to be a woman”, I am tagged as liberated, empowered. Hear me roar! I’ll have my own TV show.
But should I say “I am proud to be a man”, then I am a misogynist, a woman-beater and surely a rapist.
Seriously … What the fuck?
Prompt: Worst Case Scenario
In defiance of orders to maintain a strictly professional manner, the nurses frantically rode the few remaining patients. Outside, hideous dogs with bulging eyes ran crazed circles on the scorched lawn, howling in terror at the remnants of stars still swirling in the purple night-sky.
Sheltered under a bridge that crossed the swollen river, Larry wrung his shaking hands in a mixture of fear and anger. What had come to pass so far was diabolical enough. The looting and rioting that would surely follow was not going to improve matters.
The rising water was already lapping at his boots. He had to move. “Pull yourself together man, you’re a knight”, Larry reminded himself. “A disgraced knight, but a knight still. It’s time to redeem yourself”. Larry crawled out from his cover and instinctively scanned the surrounds quickly, checking for any danger before standing upright. The naked body of a headless woman floating past was a vivid declaration that law-and-order had already ceased. “Sir” Larry was on his own.
It was an hour before dawn and things would only get worse come daylight. Reaching the crest of the enbankment, Larry stopped for a moment at the sight of the burning city, his few tears hidden by the wind and rain. “Sir Larry” he reminded himself. He drew his sword, and marched towards whatever fate was in store.
But I want more!
Ok we got you covered
Photo: Flickr.com public-domain licence
2016 ! Heck – I remember being concerned about the Y2K-bug, and the sense of relief when I woke up on 1st-Jan 2000 to find that my home still had electricity (I was into weird sex even back then).
I don’t do new-year’s resolutions. The resolution of this tablet’s display is high enough already, thank you very much. “Retina”, Apple calls it.
Grumpy Axolotl has been pseudo-grumping for 2 years now (I had a previous wordpress blog with a different name and very little on it which is now sleeping with the Automattic-fish). I say pseudo-grumping, as most of my rants are fairly tame really, or at least, tackle non-controversial subjects. I thought I would have a lot to say about political issues, but actually, I don’t. Or maybe I do, but … If I genuinely feel strongly about something, I’ve already read an opinion-piece that beats the pants off anything I could have written, and I have nothing to add. See, I’m actually fairly new to writing and get frustrated easily. I can string together a grammatically correct sentence, but paragraphs and form are a real struggle. Ooh, I’m feeling the grump today. And what if I say something factually incorrect? Wrong. Wrong – On the fucking Internet. Oh, for shame! I’ll lose all my followers and be forced to change my name and move to a land far-far-away that no-one’s ever heard of, such as New Zealand. Hey – Get your filthy hands off my ewe!
XKCD nails it:
I don’t want to be a part of that.
After a somewhat-hiatical 2015, I’ve been investing more effort lately, and poetry seems to be my strong-point (or at least something I can get away with). Fiction is something I still wish to dabble in. I’m not interested in writing novels. That’s not for lack of confidence; I’m simply not interested. Novels are for reading. I do wish to create short-stories though, and I’ve recently rediscovered micro-fiction. I think I can build on that. I really enjoyed my recent one-sentence post: Recipe for Disaster. I was in a cafe with my writing notebook and saw a glass-lidded cake-thingy-container with the words “Cheese-Scones” written on it. Hey presto! – story. That doesn’t happen often enough.
Maybe I should resolve to use fewer commas and exclamation-marks!
Oh, and you can ignore that weird-sex comment at the beginning. I just threw that in because sex sells!, though I do genuinely enjoy ** BLOGGING ERROR 3.14159: TOO-MUCH-INFORMATION. POST TERMINATED. **
Excerpt: The mayor, one Herman Lefawn, of Wheatlow, a small town that farmed golden grains for the governing bodies of the Grand Chivalrous Alliance, had endured much in recent weeks. He’d endured his gardeners accidentally opening a hole to a cavern older than sin directly beneath his impressive homestead (all he’d wanted was a simple spot for his chestnut trees), he’d endured the hideous arcane creatures that had slithered out from it, and he was now enduring the worst music he’d ever heard. It will all be over soon, he thought. Better screeching pipes than dragon roars. Smile and nod. Can I even manage both at once through this din? Continue reading →
When the snappy chihuahuas are having at your heels and the troubled waters flooding you out, finally wash you away.
Sink or swim?
Panic or relax?
Sometimes it’s enough just to float awhile.
Don’t stand there dripping. Where have you been?
I’ve already fired up the machine.
Get out of those clothes. Come on, look keen.
I want you naked, scrubbed up and clean
Throw out your doubt. Don’t pout like a trout.
Don’t throw a wobbly. Please do not shout
I’ll tell you what this is all about:
People go in; sausages come out.
Magpie flying high
Magpie swooping down on you
Magpie make you cry
Wetlands, farmlands, bush
Excellent for bird-watching
Strip-malls, city streets
Excellent for bum-watching