In the comments, use the 10 random words below to create a cohesive, creative short story tying all the words together. And remember: after you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words (if you’ve missed some challenges, go back and try those too).
- X-Factor
- Townhall
- Parrot
- Cracker Jacks
- Unions
- Napkins
- The 10 Commandments
- San Francisco
- Cold Season
Since this is the 1st copy challenge, read our about page, then check out the following example submission to see how one might look:
Beware the X-factor of parrot watching during cold season in San Fransisco’s town hall. Parrots get colds too, and when people feed them cracker jacks like unions siphon from pension funds, you’ll need a google of crap-napkins and the 10 commandments to avoid the urge to kill you some Pollys.
ps. In the comment section, remember you can put bold tags around your words to make them stand out and look pretty… like this <b> X-factor </b>
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{ 57 comments… read them below or add one }
I hate cold season, especially in San Francisco.
I’d break half the Ten Commandments just to avoid it. I went to Google this morning just to make sure I remembered them correctly. Last year in town hall I had to listen to unions fighting, two-hundred and forty-two voices, each sounding like a parrot getting plucked. Everyone was coughing and hacking and wheezing, filling napkins with mucus as though prizes in a box of Cracker Jacks.
I used to have some sort of influenza X-Factor that helped me dodge the flu bullet each year. At least until three years ago. It had been tic-tac-toe, three in a row and I was dreading the fourth.
I hate cold season, especially in San Francisco.
Here’s my challenge response:
As I was strolling toward Townhall Avenue in my new hometown of San Francisco, I munched a mini-box of sweet and salty Cracker Jacks. I usually walk when framing out a new Google campaign in my mind. I could have used a napkin for my increasingly sticky mouth. As I turned a corner, I spied a bright red parrot perched on a small Civil War monument which, interesting enough, celebrated both the preservation of the Union and The 10 Commandments. He preened in the few warm rays of this unusually Cold Season. Why so cold in this time of global warming? Ahh, that’s the X-factor. Should we tell Al Gore? I’m sure he’ll want to know.
Newbie. Here goes!
I turned on the laptop, Googled X-Factor and started reading.
Rearranging the napkins on the table, I spread out my Cracker Jacks and ate them as I read about the highs and lows of the show. I gazed over pictures of them smiling, going home and getting a key to their town at Townhall. And that girl – what was her name? She came in third. The one who talked like a parrot on speed. It should be in the 10 Commandments of the X Factor: “Thou shalt not allow inarticulate contestants on the live show, even if they can sing.” Her singing with Michael Buble was one of the strangest unions I’d ever seen. I didn’t like either of them.
I looked out the window; it was snowing! Brrrr…achoo! It’s cold season again. I need a vacation. Hmm. Someplace warm, maybe California. San Francisco is supposed to be nice.
I Googled San Francisco and ate another Cracker Jack.
@Gina. I like it. Keep it up.
@Roberta. Thanks for taking the time and tweeting this. Can’t wait to see more from you.
What I love about this concept is I smile or laugh at the creativeness of each one I read. Seriously, each comment is like a gift people give me; a gift of their precious and limited creative time. I really do appreciate the comments. It makes the effort of doing a site like this worth it.
Regards
Shane
The unions had squeaked out a narrow victory in the town hall. Google employees would never have to suffer through another cold season eating Cracker Jacks sans napkins while reading The 10 Commandments ever again. From now on, they would be able to spend their lunch breaks as they pleased, even if they chose to simply parrot their San Francisco bretheren, drinking mint mocha milk shakes while reading old issues of X-Factor.
Absolute drivel, but fun!
The 10 Commandments. You may know them all. You may know the big ones that stick out most, like Do Not Sin or Always Share Your Cracker Jacks. Maybe you used to know them, but now…
Now you’re scrabbling through your brain, wondering if Google can help you before the X-factor in the equation leaps up and sends you straight to hell with a big fat F just because you forgot. They probably don’t even have unions in hell.
It’s the defining moment. The exam paper lays accusingly on the desk. “List the 10 Commandments,” it says, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Don’t Be Greedy, maybe, or Put On Extra Sweaters in the Cold Season. No, wait, that was your mother, complaining about the heating bills…
It’s no use. Nada. Nothing. The commandments escape you like napkins blowing in the wind down the street. You know it’s over. You’ve lost it. (Just like the year San Francisco’s town hall lost its parrot, but that’s a different story.)
Now, it’s just you, that damned exam question worth 10 marks and a brain that’s failing as you tear your hair out crying, “Why? Oh, why?”
The answer’s clear – you never bothered to pay attention to that movie, the 7 Sins. Not much, anyways. Maybe you should have.
Then again, maybe you should have opted for drama instead of religion this year.
So I Googled “The 10 Commandments” and you wouldn’t believe the freeky uber-patriot cracker-jacks jaw boning on and on and on about them over at Townhall.com. What a bunch of parrots, all talking the same old, same old about gay “unions,” the depravity of San Francisco, and how Global Warming is all a big hoax – that we’re really just heading into another cold season and that all that CO2 we’re pumping into the air is only the smallest, most inconsequential of X-Factors. These drooling idiots need some Napkins – along with a clue!
@James Thanks for stopping by. We needed some creative Canadians!
@Jeff Thank you, too. Good one.
I love where these take me. What’s so cool is I’d never have thought of the directions these short stories go. Cool indeed.
X-Factor shivered in the shadow of Townhall. Grasping a spray can of Parrot green and CrackerJack Red, one in each hand. Poised and ready, one last check for all clear, he remembered one of the 10 Commandments, “Don’t get caught.”
“Here’s to happy unions”, he thought, ” a marriage of ideas.” He’d drawn it all out the night before on napkins at his favorite coffee shop and google mapped the perfect spot.
“Yep, just what San Francisco needs to warm this cold season up, ” the artist smiled, and began his graffiti gift of love that laws could not contain…
Brilliant idea! Our local public radio station has a competition along these lines for kids every year, called “Young Canada Writes.” The stories they come up with are great fun.
Okay, deep breath and into the breach…
I’m sitting in a town hall meeting. I rarely go to these things. It’s always the same. There are always a few of the local boys who get into a pissing contest, and they’re almost always the wanna-be honchos from the trade unions. There’s the mayor’s assistant, buttoned up tight in her power suit, who spouts political headlines she reads on Google. Don’t ask her a question, though, because she never reads the articles.
There are two or three members of the local planning committee, who always travel in packs, and who parrot official policy with the evangelical fervor of Moses bringing the 10 Commandments to the faithful. They can finish each other’s sentences.
“Should have stayed home,” I think to myself. It’s cold season. I’m jammed in a too-small room with people hacking and sneezing in varying stages of contagion. The woman next to me is clutching a fistful of napkins in one hand and a Blackberry in another. Is she a journalist? I risk a look over her shoulder. Nope. She’s texting…
Oh, shit. That’s way more than I ever wanted to know about anyone’s personal life. You’d like to be the what in his box of Cracker Jacks?
Somewhere behind me, very faintly, a man is humming “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” Off-key.
At the front of the room, there’s an argument brewing between the mayor’s assistant and one of the planners. His posse is looking nervous. The mayor’s assistant is undoing a button on her suit.
The crowd leans forward ever so slightly. The woman next to me is distracted from her Blackberry. The humming stops. This is why I go. This is the X-Factor in our sleepy little town. Throw out an issue, any kind of issue, and people react like they’re going to see gladiators at the coliseum.
The mayor’s assistant is jabbing her finger at one of the planners. My Blackberry friend is back at it. Keeping half an ear on the escalating festivities, I take another look at her screen.
I was sent to San Francisco from Maryland by my company, X-Factor a manufacturer of senior under garments, to a seminar at a rural town hall.
I wished for almost anything to happen to prevent me from participating at this event, like a plane crash, earthquake or heart failure. However, never did I think an event close to the latter would happen in my world.
A call was waiting for me as I checked into my hotel room. It was long distance from Maryland telling me that my Mom, who was 94 years old, had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital.
Having heard that there was a baggage handler and service workers unions strike in progress, I immediately punched up Google on my laptop to find a nearby municipal airport to book a flight on an executive jet.
The flight was long and stopped for refueling twice, and was made even worse by annoying hunger grunts from other passengers who, like myself, were served only Cracker Jacks on floral napkins.
Finally, we landed at a small airport in Maryland where I hired a taxi to take me to the hospital.
The taxi driver was unmistakably Pakistani and due to the cold season, he was dressed in traditional, winter garb with a colorful hat that looked like a parrot sitting on his head.
As time passed Mom’s condition improved and she was released from the hospital, but still with a permanent paralysis to her left side. Seeing the need, I became her permanent caretaker remembering one of the Ten Commandments, ( modified) “Honor your Mom.”
Thus, I’m an X, “X Factor,” representative of senior under garments, and instead the implementer of the same.
UPDATE! We’ve decided it’s too damn’d difficult to choose favorites here. We’ve decided that we’ll turn these awesome entries into e-books down the road and have a vote/poll and let the community choose the favorites. After all, this is a community blog.
Thanks for all your submissions. They rock!
Looking to avoid another miserable cold season? Tired of scrounging the break room for fast-food napkins to stop your sneezing frenzy?
Slowly step away from Google and read on. Instead of seeking the X-Factor of Germ Warfare, you can stay relatively healthy by following the “10 Commandments of Zapping Colds Before They Zap You”:
1. Mother knows best. Wash your hands and wash often.
2. Limit your involvement with large groups such as transportation unions gathering in a San Francisco townhall. Those folks are around tons of people. Stay home as often as you can. Use the Internet to socialize. Much safer.
3. If your co-worker (who is gushing like Niagra Falls), offers you a handful of his Cracker Jacks, politely decline.
4. Beware of any stray parrot, bird, or animal. Look but don’t pet. Birds especially are carriers of all sorts of nasty germs.
5. Load up on the zinc. Zicam works great if you can catch the cold before it starts, but if not, buy zinc lozenges. They really can shorten the duration of the common cold.
6. Get lots of rest. You can battle the orcs another night.
7. Drink, drink and be merry! No, not alcohol. Water. It’s the best way to avoid dehydration and helps flush out the bad stuff.
8. Vitamin C. Why let Florida have all the fun? Eat your oranges or at least start taking it in capsule form.
9. Boost your immune system by
wearing a necklace ofeating garlic. Wearing garlic is a quick way to lose friends.10. Exercise. There’s no way around it. Exercise will make you stronger and enable your body to fight against illness. Plus you want to look smokin’ hot around the holidays.
That’s it. Taking these simple steps will ensure that this winter, the only cold you’ll have to worry about is the temperature outside. Good health to you!
And now, an excerpt from the lost transcripts of Harry Carey.
“Bottom of the 5th. Two outs. Cubbies trail San Francisco 6 to…(hiccup) something. Hey Stoney, pass me two napkins, will ya? I gotta booger the size of 17 Cracker Jacks that I’ve gotta unleash on the world.
Anyway, back to the game…
Here comes AL-LEE-JANDRO PAIN-YO to the plate. I believe his name translated in English is “The Big Parrot.” And the pitch…The Parrot takes ball one. This half-inning is brought to you by our friends at Google. Hey Stoney, what’s a Google? Is it like a gaggle? You know, like one of those womens unions or something…
And the 1-0 pitch to PAIN-YO is outside…Ball two. You know, Stoney. The Cubs had better be careful pitching to The Parrot. In batting practice, I saw him launch one out past the old townhall buidling. This guy could be the X-factor in today’s game.
Speaking of exes…I saw wifey #2 at the library the other day. There’s a strike to the Parrot. She was checking out a book about the 10 Commandments. I figured I should say ‘hi,’ so I put down my copy of Popular Science and engaged in some idle chit-chat. She told me she had never been happier and that she found God and…
HOLY MOSES! The Parrot just clobbered one to deep center. Looks like it gonna be a long, cold season in Chicago, Cubs fans.”
@Jeff Anybody that can weave Harry Carey into a copy challenge gets my approval. Well done.
Back when I was a small child attending Catholic school, reading, writing and learning about the ten commandments, I starting formulating very definite ideas about what was right and what was bullshit. They would march us into church every day like it was some kind of big whoop-de-do townhall meeting. We were there to learn respect, even if it killed us. Who made the rule that we had to wear hats or chapel veils before entering? It made no sense to get napkins pinned on our heads if we forget our appropriate chapeaus. Would God think that wearing a rumpled napkin on my head really showed respect? Would God think that repeating things out of a book like a parrot made me sincere? These sacriligious thoughts in a little seven-year-old head were likely to make the earth shake like the great San Francisco earthquake! The nuns were a whole different Oprah! There was that one with the snaggle tooth and google eyes that just sent a chill down your spine like it was cold season every day! She always reeked of cracker jacks which she would confiscate from children’s lunches . When she walked , the ten pound rosary that swung from her waist was so intimidating it might as well have been the X-Factor that assured her a place in heaven . If nuns had belonged to unions back then, they could not have had more clout. Yes, I am a survivor and all the stories and urban legends are true.
We all realized the X-Factor had arrived to Townhall when the parrot started singing, and cracker jacks fell from the sky. Once the unions came to save us, Google grab napkins in fear and post the 10 commandments on their home page. We were all instructed to march to San Francisco, during the cold season of 2009.
I wanted to take a trip to San Francisco, and before you can say “Cracker Jacks“, I was on Google researching sights like the Golden Gate Bridge and the townhall.
A voice like a parrot in my head kept trying to warn me that I shouldn’t go in February because that is flu and cold season, but I pressed on, writing little notes to myself on cocktail napkins as I dreamed the winter nights away in clubs every weekend.
As my trip drew nearer, my boss informed me that there had been an error, and my vacation had not been approved. Completely vexed, I went to the union and demanded they advocate for me. The rep told me I’d best let it rest, as I should have been fired years ago. Unions! What a joke.
I spent the night trying to decide whether to watch The X-Factor or The 10 Commandments.
Well, the parrot said, at least I wouldn’t get a cold.
@yvette
Short and sweet. I like it (that’s my personal style).
@Debbie Ferm
With that parrot, you’ll never be lonely.
Good write and thanks for stopping by.
@Margaret
Sorry about that. I spaced out somehow and missed your whole bleepin’ post.
I love it. Having gone to a private, military catholic, all boys high school I can relate to your post completely. Only difference is we had brothers instead of nuns (some secretly wishing they were though).
Thanks, Shane…I tend to be somewhat outspoken and sometimes it steps on some toes. I’ll bet those brothers did nun-drag queen nite, when they borrowed their friends’ habits and danced around drinking the sacred wine and singing karaoke hymns with substitued obscene lyrics. (was that a thunderbolt???)
This one’s a little long so bear with me
I peer around the room, trying not to look obvious while I check everyone out. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I think to myself. This is my first time ever at a support group, and I sure as hell didn’t come here of my own accord. My mother thought it would be “good for me”. Apparently she looked up “how to make your only child even more miserable” on Google and this is what it came up with.
The reek of stale cigarettes hangs in the air despite the fact that the no-smoking bylaw has been in place for over a year. Cold, sterile neon light fills the badly painted room. The bulb directly above me flickers intermittently and emits a constant hum, which just may drive me mad before the hour is through. About a dozen chairs, most pocked with cigarette burns, are arranged in a horseshoe shape in the middle of the room. At the front is a dog-eared sign, badly hand-painted with “The “X-Factor” nailed to the rickety podium. This is a 12-step support group for people who have been in abusive relationships and are trying to “recover”. I guess “X” is supposed to be a gentle play on “ex” but right now I just think it is completely stupid. I wonder if anyone else here feels as pathetic as I do.
To the left of me, a woman who reminds me of a scared mouse sits quietly. Her clothes are miles too big for her and she appears to hide beneath her greasy unkempt hair. A pile of napkins covers her lap, displaying a spread of Cracker Jacks, separated into two Cracker-Jacky piles; one of peanuts and one of caramel popcorn. Very slowly, the mouse-lady nibbles the caramel concoction one by one, alternating between nuts and popcorn. At her feet is the largest, most gaudy-looking handbag I have ever seen. A vibrant embroidered parrot adorns the side. Inside it is stuffed to the brim with every color of yarn in the rainbow. At least I’m not that messed up.
To the mouse lady’s left, two women are in quiet conversation. The blond one breaks into laughter, her tinny voice ripping through the silence. How can anyone find something funny if they have to come someplace like this?
Seated on my immediate right, a young man sitting with one leg draped over the other, is dressed in very tight black jeans and a pink t-shirt that says “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful”. He is engrossed in a paperback novel and appears so completely oblivious to his surroundings that I almost wonder if he is in the wrong place. We are in the basement of the town hall and the library is across the street.
There is a small gathering of people at the back of the room where a coffee pot gurgles through its final brewing process. A woman begins to raise her voice as she quotes something from the Bible about the Ten Commandments. I look at my watch. 7:58. I shake it to make sure it hasn’t stopped. This may be the longest hour of my life.
Last week, I arrived back on my mother’s doorstep with a single grocery bag of clothes, sheepishly displaying a black eye and a broken arm. I was unable to look her in the face for fear of hearing “I told you so.”
Three years ago, I moved to San Francisco with Bob. We met at the local bar while I was out drinking with my girlfriends from work. He was much older than me but seemed mysterious and confident. He made me feel sexy and special as he bought me wonderful exotic drinks that I had never even heard of. Most guys in this town know of two drinks – beer in a can and beer in a glass. Bob called me daily for weeks after we met. He constantly told me how beautiful I was, how smart I was, how funny I was. He took me for walks in the park, holding my hand and ignoring those who would stare at us judgingly. Bob was old enough to be my father. We ate at places that didn’t package the food in Styrofoam. He would surprise me at my job as a bank teller, waiting patiently in line to deliver me luxurious lattes or flowers. When he suggested that I move away with him, I jumped at the chance. We had been dating for 3 months.
My mother despised Bob and I believed she was jealous. Mom was always bellyaching that there were no good men in this crappy little town. She hated her job, she hated her 2-bedroom apartment, she hated her station in life. She wasn’t happy unless she was unhappy. It was not much wonder Dad left us when I was 8. I always wished he had taken me with him instead of leaving me here with her. I felt like she blamed me for her misfortunes.
The first couple of weeks in San Francisco were exciting. Everything was new, and the city was so big! There was something interesting to do every night of the week and we went drinking and dancing regularly. We moved into a tiny apartment above a butcher shop. Bob repeatedly assured me it was only temporary until he got the promotion at work. That fall was an unusually cold season and the heat in the apartment often failed to come on. I told myself that everything would be ok as long as we had each other. I filled the apartment with items from thrift shops and decorated the walls with framed postcards of our beautiful new city.
I took a job as a waitress and most nights I was exhausted, content to come home and have him rub my feet on the couch. When I t was too tired to go out, Bob would sulk, then get angry and leave. The wee hours of the morning (and most often the neighbors) would be disturbed by drunken fumbling at the door as he was unable to find his keys, then pounding and yelling for me to let him in. He would then proceed to fall into the apartment, reeking of booze and cheap perfume. Long into the nights, he’d rant about the unions keeping him from moving upward at his job and as he became more intoxicated, start to smash things in the apartment. I was forever apologizing to the landlord and neighbors, assuring that it wouldn’t happen again, that Bob was just at a temporary low.
Soon the nightly rants turned into drunken violent attacks if I looked at him the wrong way or said the wrong thing. I tried so hard to figure out what he wanted me to be and how he wanted me to act but I always failed. He sabotaged any friendships that I started to develop and listened in on every call I made home to my mother. I was not allowed to do any of the banking and he routinely showed up at my workplace early every second Thursday to take my hard earned paycheck.
It wasn’t until the electric utility shut the power off that I made the mistake of asking him why he hadn’t been paying the bills. That question earned me a trip to the emergency room. I don’t remember much but apparently my neighbor had heard Bob yelling and found me unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. That man drove me to the hospital and wouldn’t leave until the doctor arrived with a social worker when I came to. He paid for my bus fare back to my mother’s and hugged me good-bye. I didn’t even know his name, except that he lived in 3B.
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things, I cannot change. The courage to accept the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.” As the meeting began and everyone recited that prayer, my mind shifted to its words and meaning. Today is January 18, 2010 and I am going to be ok.
Wow. That’s a powerful write Lisa. While I hope it’s fiction for you, I’m sure millions of women wake up to this reality every day. Truly sad.
You brought us right into that woman’s world. Thanks for sharing this submission.
Thanks for the kind words. I am truly enjoying this site as a creative outlet. If someone enjoys reading my stuff even one iota as much as I have gained by writing and sharing, it means so much more!
Wow, that was really impressive! The last paragraph about the neighbor really makes me want to know more about “the man in 3b”. I don’t mind the length at all. Keep it up!
So, I decided to try-out for X-Factor. I thought I would be a shoe in because I sing The Cracker Jacks song, “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” along with my parrot, Cook. Being that is a Netherland’s show, they were only holding one audition in the States, in San Francisco on December 12th. I knew that travelling from Chicago to San Francisco in December, the peak of Cold Season, would really risky since parrots are extremely sensitive to cold weather. I couldn’t have my singing partner get laryngitis! So, I took extra precautions like wrapping Cooks neck with napkins—said to be more protective than a scarf. Besides, where was I going to get a scarf in Cooks size?
The day finally arrived. I got to the Townhall just in time to see registration opening and proceeded to wait in the three-hour line to register. About four and a half hours past that it was finally our turn. We get on stage and begin our song. It was spectacular! Truly, everyone was in awe. Upon finishing, I noticed one of the judges writing something on a napkin. He then walked over and handed it to me. Without even reading it, I proceeded to inform the man that his attempts to hit on me during my auditions were fruitless. I was a married woman, and I don’t break the 10 Commandments—not for anyone. Any furthermore, who was he to interfere with my dream to be a star? After a confused reaction, I decided to look at the note. On it he wrote, “Because of the sensitive nature of the situation, I can’t say anything out load, but the unions protecting parrots from performance exploitation are too much of a burden for the show to allow your entry. Please either choose a Human partner or remove yourself from the contest.” On that note I was escorted out. Upon returning to my hotel room, I went on Google to figure out why he couldn’t have just told me out loud. It turns out, parrots are notorious drama queens and curse vulgarly when rejected from anything. Being that the audition was filmed, his public announcement would have set off a tirade of profanity heard throughout the country. Being that the Netherlands has strict profanity laws, they were not going to risk the shows cancellation because of a girl and her bird.
Hey Rena. That was a great submission. Made me laugh about parrots being drama queens. Welcome to the fun and I hope to see more from you. You’re representing Chicago quite nicely!
It was cold season in downtown San Francisco. I normally stay away from the disease-infested city, but I had to go to a townhall a few days ago to defend an issue close to my heart that the local unions were going cracker jacks about. To think that even the Google employees were going to parrot the nonsense that the slimy politicians spewed made me want to turn off this rerun of The 10 Commandments and throw them a stash of napkins to clean-up their dribble. But here I am instead, sick, miserable and full of mucous trying every possible drink claiming to have an X-factor for fighting off this cold instead of fighting for my cause! It’s a conspiracy I tell you! Biological warfare through cold germs.
Frank, that was awesome, man. Glad you are starting from the beginning. Good write and I hope to see more from you. Welcome aboard the fun ship.
I happened upon the virtual townhall by happenstance. I launched Google. I typed in ‘Charlton Heston and The Ten Commandments’ and the next thing I knew I was frantically keying my distaste for cross-novel character unions. That was when she cold cocked me. I looked up at her through bleary eyes. “Welcome to Shan Earth Ur,” she said. She wore a salacious parrot pantsuit, x-factor gun metal pumps, and a San Francisco Giants cap turned sideways. “You’re just in time for the Cold Season.” She held a fistful of napkins in one hand and a box of Cracker Jacks in the other. She dropped the box at my feet. Then she flung the napkins at me. “Clean up yourself,” she said. “You look ridiculous.”
Troy, that was awesome. You can write, sir. Glad you want back to the first one.
Here goes…!
Parrot unions have been feathering discussions during Townhall meetings across San Francisco. Really, just Google Cracker Jacks and you’ll find this extraordinary X-Factor on everyone’s mind. Whether scrawled on napkins or whispered in the courtroom, it’s really becoming the hottest topic this Cold Season. Some say bird marriages violate The 10 Commandments, but that’s simply not so; all birds deserve the right to bear eggs.
Sara, that was funny as hell!!!!! Welcome to the addiction! I noticed on your blog you said you were going to catch up. That’s awesome. If I were you, I’d do CCC21 first so everyone can see you in the current challenge, then go back between current challenges (every Monday and Thursday) and fill in the older ones.
Great to have you. Anne is quite a promoter of our site. We love her.
Ps. You’re a damn good writer.
Thank you so much, Shane! I really appreciate that.
I’m excited to take part in this. And I love Anne, too; she’s been incredibly helpful in my transition from nonprofit editor to freelance writer. I’ll definitely do CCC21 before I continue catching up!
That’s great to hear. I’ll look for your submission and I’m sure Ann will give you a welcome comment.
Shane went to the townhall meeting all set to complain about the lack of appropriate sanitation services from the City. He was especially mad about the Cracker Jack boxes that were left all up and down his South of Market storefront after the ballgames at PacBell Stadium.
Not realizing that Google’s headquarters were in Mountain View, he was prepared to get them involved in his battle as well. Flyer’s were prepared quoting their marketing materials with the 10 Commandments eleventh commandment; Thou shalt not litter. And in celebration of cold season, he included little packets of Kleenex also emblazoned with the Thou Shalt Not Litter logo.
He forgot to check the agenda online ahead of time and was surprised to find out that the X-Factor people were there in force. He could have been a talking parrot for all the attention they gave him. And the people from the Unions were chanting wildly about something or other that he just didn’t want to pay attention to in his dissapointment. Apparently they could care less about the napkins blowing around the City. In their eyes it was just another way to make sure they got full employment and benefits out of San Francisco.
(even, then odd, in order, one word per line)
Cleve, the patterns you are able to work with these is insane! I love it.
Every man can achieve an x-factor if he is capable of joining the unions of San Francisco. The cold season is exactly the opportunity to bring eight packs of cracker jacks, three for the parrot, and the extra packs for you. The day has arrived to use the 10 commandments as the guide to be unimpeachable for town hall so bring fifteen napkins and google the story you are reading, because it might be the first story wrote in prime numbers if you count the letters and exclude the thick words.
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13 Are the prime numbers included in this story.
Devin. That is so bad-ass. How long have you been doing this type of writing? It’s quite mind boggling the more I think about it. Excellent.
I’m so numbers obsessed that this type of thing comes naturally to me, rolling around for many years this came out relatively easily… I’ve actually never written a prime number letter story before… so thank you for the compliment.
- DRJUMP
Wild. Just, plain, wild, Devin.
Geeks rock.
5, 3, 3, 7, 2, x-factor (bonus prime 7), 2, 2, 2, 7, 2, 7, 3, unions, 2, San Francisco, 3, cold season, 2, 7, 3, 11, 2, 5, 5, 5, 2, cracker jacks (bonus DOUBLE prime 7, 5), 5, 3, 3, parrot, 3, 3, 5, 5, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 2, 3, the 10 commandments (3, 2, 12close but no cigar), 2, 3, 5, 2, 2, 13!!!, 3, town hall, 2, 5, 7, napkins (bonus prime 7), 3, google, 3, 5, 3, 3, 7, 7, 2, 5, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 2, 5, 7, 2, 3, 5, 3, 7, 3, 7, 3, 5, 5…
To be exact.
That’s super-cool stuff, Devin.
It’s really just a pure extraction of geek, some essence of nerd, and oil of numerology (mathematics). A simple recipe, yet not for the faint of heart.
I’m still sticking with bad-ass!
I come to find out that writing words with letters numbering only in primes is used only for encryption purposes, I wonder what type of government message is hidden within my prime narrative.
That’s a trip. If we don’t hear from you in a while, we’ll know what happened to you.
Catching Up-#1 in more to come
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It’s hard to say what makes a good detective – especially a homicide one. What is that x-factor that gets a detective up every morning, especially after all he has seen? How is it he still finds a purpose for life?
Brett Connors had been a homicide detective for 25 years. It stopped being a job years ago – it simply was his life, who he was. It was mornings like this where he had to reach deep to find that purpose for life. The killing of a child never made sense. Why should he go on when one so small, so innocent, could not.
The trial was this morning. The courthouse sat next to the townhall, its shadows reflecting Brett’s own dark mood. Like most cops, Brett hated testifying – not that he didn’t want to nail the son of a bitch. No, it was the frustration from the many times the system made a mockery of what he called justice.
Settling in a seat at the back of the courtroom, Brett barely registered the parrot repetition of the bailiff’s instructions. His mind replayed the tragic scene as if he was standing there now, instead of all those months ago.
He saw it all – the silky, blonde hair, stiffened by blood, like the small body robbed of life – the baby smooth skin, drained of the innocence of youth. Why couldn’t he be at some ball game, with a glove on one hand, and a box of Cracker Jacks in the other? That’s what the life of a 7-year-old boy should be – not this caricature of evil. There should never be unions made of children and death.
As the crime scene technicians gathered evidence, Brett walked over to the computer sitting on a child’s desk. Shifting the mouse, Brett brought the monitor to life. If only he could do the same for a small boy. That is when he saw it – Google, shouting beneath its rainbow hue, THOU SHALT NOT KILL – OOPS – I DID.
It was all Brett could do to stop from smashing a fist through the vile words. At least when he touched the mouse, he used the sadly ironic birthday napkins lying on the desk – not that he expected prints. Brett prayed there really was a God, one that would banish the killer to eternal hell. He had no doubt he violated more than one of the 10 Commandments.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge James Angel.”
Pulled back to the present, Brett wondered if his thoughts of God had sent him Judge Angel. God, he hoped so. The city of San Francisco could use some divine help – otherwise, it was going to be a long, cold season of killing.
@Cathy: LOVED what you did with “parrot,” “unions,” and “cold season.” This is the best example folks of someone coming up with with creative ways to use words that don’t seem to fit a normal story. Well done and I like where this is going for sure.
@Shane-thanks. I’m moving through them. I missed quite a few so I am posting them as I finish them. As I said, they will be a series and I’ll let you know when I am caught up and what challenge #s they are–Great fun!
@Shane-Ignore this-I got a strange message of a duplicate
If you Google San Francisco you will find it does not parrot The 10 Commandments. I am not even sure if the townhall is filled with Cracker Jacks or what. But as the x-factor is being applied to same-sexed unions, again, at least the his ‘n his and the hers ‘n her monogrammed napkins will look good in the photo album as the cold season is here once again with the every changing societal atmosphere.
@Kathleen: So cool that you want back and did this first one. Well done.
I have complied a list so going foward and having some fun. I need more word fixes! Trying to encourage my Elantra to do the same… she said she is starting at CCC#45 … at least she doing it.
Hey… We are having an International Exchange student join our home in a week. I will try to get her to practice her English via CCC as well.
@Kathleen: That’s wonderful. The more the better.