BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) 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 previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)
- Dance all night
- Pizza
- Outlook
- Porn
- Pajamas
- Aroma
- Carnage
- Berserk
- Microphone
- Joystick
NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks.
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“This was the best idea ever. Ever.” James took another bite of pizza, closing his eyes in happiness. The club was packed, the music was good, and people looked like they’d dance all night.
The aroma in the air was one of party time.
He deserved that. It had been a hard damned week. The outlook was good, but dealing with the carnage of a hit gone bad because of some berserk asshole who wouldn’t shut up until James pulled the trigger had gotten to him.
This kind of life wasn’t easy – not easy at all.
But he could handle it. He could handle anything. He could even get up on stage, grab the microphone and sing karaoke to AC/DC’s “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” if he wanted.
Oh yeah. That song was his anthem.
“You know, this is almost better than reading porn in my pyjamas,” he told Kelly as he polished off the last slice of pizza. “Not that I do that, but if I did, I’d say this night tops it off. It’s good to relax and get out.” Kelly had dropped by his place earlier and found him cursing over a broken Wii joystick. She’d made him put it down, told him he needed a break, and then hauled him to the club. “We should do this more often.”
“Don’t count on it,” Kelly smirked. “I hear Headquarters has something big planned for you this week. A major hit. You’ll be busy. But well-rested ,” she added, patting his arm. “All work and no play makes Jamie a dull boy.”
And then she grinned. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
James, as always, I loved it. I enjoy these two characters that you’ve created so much. They should be in a book, don’t you think?
Love that song, “dirty deeds, done dirt cheap” great inspiration.
Just keeps getting better & better. We’ll be looking for the book announcement.
Carnage lay everywhere.
Half-eaten pizza and porn dvd boxes…
The aroma of casual sex in the air…
Sperm-stained pajamas down at the knees…
Karaoke microphone and Sega joysticks drenched in cheap beer…
Television still on…
Dorm-room door wide open.
The three roommates scratched their balls and heads as they awoke wondering what in berserk’s name happened the previous night. All the trifecta could remember was their pledge to drink and dance all night (and some girl nicknamed Pookie and her well-endowed sorority sisters offering them drinks called Russian Nose Numbers and pills called Roofies). And that was just the first day of their freshman year.
The bewildered nerds in class never could understand how these three hungover ruffians always managed to get the three highest grades in Calculus class.
And, through the delight of their proud parents (regarding their “known” achievements), their naive outlook was full speed ahead…more please!
Which proves there are other important things in life, like your outlook on pizza, porn, and going berserk when someone calls you out on a microphone for having the aroma of seman carnage in your pajamas from playing with your joystick after dancing all night. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
That was great, Hamilton. You’re in contention for the “short and tight submission” title. Submitters Jaced and Anne will be coming after you soon.
This one is a little silly, but it was fun to write:
I hoped that we could dance all night,
As I guided her across the floor,
Though I smelled the aroma of pizza–
It was wafting through the door.
We waltzed right back to the table
To find our dinner was there.
The pizza’s outlook was poor indeed,
Carnage time (had to get my share)!
The smell was driving me crazy
Really, I was going berserk!
But why was I wearing pajamas,
And why was my date a jerk?
I looked around the pizza joint
Wondering what went wrong.
Up onstage was a microphone
With a porn star singing a song.
The singer threw me a joystick,
I think I started to scream
I don’t know how it ended,
‘Cause then I awoke from my dream!
Karetha,
That was so funny and so FUN!
I’ll take a submission like that anytime! I’m sure you had fun with this one.
Love the X-A-X-A rhyme pattern you used here. Very cool.
For some reason the “x-a-x-a” pattern of poem has always been an easy one for me to fall into when writing poetry.
I don’t often do story poems though…so this was fun
Best book I’ve ever read on this was Songwriting for Dummies. I normally hate Dummies books, but this one was fantastic.
My fav is:
A
A
B
A
A
B
Where the last lines of the two stanzas rhyme. Popular in country music. Real cool.
Learn something new everyday.
So I’m sitting on my porch with a big ol’ bowl of gumbo thinkin’ we can dance all night around the subject but it is what it is: and if you don’t know who I is or where dis story starts off, I suggests you read challenge # 15 first so ya’ll can gets a better outlook on what’s a happenin’.
You still here? Damn I done told you to read the utter one first. One sec I gets me karaoke microphone to make sure ya’ll can hear me. “Read number fifteen first, den come back!” …and they say my kinfolk ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Some a the folks I runs across is so stupid they would go to the Betty Ford clinic cuz they was hooked on phonics. Anyways, let me grab a ‘nutter bowl of gumbo den I’ll gets back to me story….
The carnage I set lose on them poachers was more fun than gumbo pizza served by a naked porn queen. Okay, maybe not quite that much fun – it’s hard to beat gumbo pizza.
Anyways I grabbed them poachers batteries cuz the wife done used up all the batteries. Just then a ‘membered the little whipper-snapper was still under me wife, so I rushed into the house, careful not to spill my gumbo cuz I still had to side step o’er them three youngins curled up like a ‘coon dog layin’ by a fire. The other two ain’t sleepin’ on the couch no more, the lil bastards are fightin’ over who gets to play wit the Nintendo joystick. For the life a me I’ll never figger out why dem two is always fightin’ o’er the ‘tendo; ain’t like we gots a tv or nuttin’.
Anyways, I gets to kid number six and pulls the little whipper-snapper out from under me wife and I noticed the little fellers pajamas was all stained brown, not to mention the aroma didn’t smell too good. Of course, if the wife hadda fell’d outta bed on me I woulda crapped me shorts too. That woman done got so big she makes Jabba the Hutt look anorexic. My favorite food is gumbo, her favorite food is “more”. She drives me berserk sometimes too, ‘specially if she finds me porn magazines wit all dem dere naked women. Now I ain’t lucky ’nuff to have her git mad or nuttin like dat; no, she done gits in da mood! Once upon a time, likes when we’s was first hitched and she was just a tiny little thing, she wanted me on the bottom cuz she said everything else I do I fuck up. She ain’t tiny no more so I makes her git on the bottom. But by the top I crawl up on top o’ her my ears pop. She gots to start losing some weight.
Anyways, I throw’d the little feller inna bayou to clean the stink offa him and dat’s when I saw’d it… a gator swimmin’ towards the little feller! So I say’s to myself, “Self,” and I recognized the voice right away cuz it sounded just like me, “Self,” I says, ain’t nobody ever taught that little whipper-snapper how to swim!
So I grabs me bowl a gumbo and sits on the porch thinkin’ he better learned how to swim cuz I ain’t gettin’ in the water wit no damn gators.
Outstanding, Kenn!
I’m loving this series as I do Jame’s assassin story. Very cleaver way to tie into CCC#15, too, by the way.
” For the life a me I’ll never figger out why dem two is always fightin’ o’er the ‘tendo; ain’t like we gots a tv or nuttin’.”
“My favorite food is gumbo, her favorite food is “more”.”
2 best lines by far.
Man, I’m glad you stopped by.
OMG! thought I would bust a gut laughing! Brilliant!
Thanks guys. These little writing exercises are a lot of fun. Glad you folks enjoy them. Eventually I will think of a name for the character but for now, I’m having a whole lot of fun. This is so much different then the horror novel I wrote, I get to let my warped sense of humor run wild
Glad Shane pointed me in this direction. I like this site and the challenge of writing something completely different and being forced to use certain words.
~Kenn
LOL… you my good man are hilarious!! You are truly becoming the challenger I look forward to reading!!!
Kenn! You had me laughing so hard I almost spilled my milk (chocolate for those that want to know) on the keyboard!!! Thank you!!!!!
The aroma of pizza from the Italian restaurant drifted into the club where club goers were to dance all night. The DJ muttered some words into the microphone as he began to spin the records. In the game room of the club, hot blooded 20 year-olds caressed the joysticks between their hands as if they were watching a porn movie. The carnage taking place on the screen was enough to make your stomach churn. “Cut,” said the director. He took off his headphones and threw them on the ground. The director’s lucky pajamas were becoming old and tattered. The cast and crew knew he was about to go berserk. The outlook did not look good for this short film.
That was great, Rebecca. Where is this club!!!!!!! Where was it when I was in college? All I got was a cheap dungeon-bar selling 10- cent beer and cold pizza.
This is cool Rebecca. Great story.
Memo
Priority: High
To:
U. Shoodno
High Class Business Consultants
Vice President Operations
Subject: Legitimate E-Mail Offer?
Opened Outlook e-mail and found the following email:
******************
From: Honey Pot <hpot@partytonite.com>
Reply To: hpot@partytonite.com
To: <supervisor@hiclassbusiness.com>
Subject: Tonight
Date: Thu, 18 Feb 2010 07:49:18 -0500
Dear Supervisor:
You have been selected to participate in the party of the month, for the low low entry fee of $50.
Dance all night.
Savor the aroma of eight varieties of pizza.
Observe the carnage in your favorite shoot-em up, or use the provided joystick and microphone to go berserk in our interactive virtual world version.
If shoot -em up, is not your cup of tea, try the interactive virtual porn.
Dress code: Nude, pajamas, casual, business, or formal, your choice.
Reply ASAP to get the location and even more information.
Experience the greatest party so far, and provide me with the contact information of five of your associates. If even one of them takes up the invitation, you will be able to attend future parties for free, and they will thank you for the experience.
Looking forward to interacting with you,
Honey Pot
Party Tonite Procurement Director
http://partytonite.com/offer/
Personal phone number provided on request.
******************
I don’t know if I should attend or not, what do you think?
Do you want me to go and let you know if this is something we should get our customers involved in? It might be a good way to reward them for their business.
Ida Know
High Class Business Consultants
Marketing Supervisor
Steve, that was brilliant! Very, very creative my friend!
Never would have thought to do something like that. Kudos.
Thanks.
The idea just popped into my head as soon as I saw the prompts.
I guess it was because I had just deleted a bunch of spam and phishing emails from a seldom used web-mail account.
Which proves the point… Ideas are everywhere! We just need to believe they are there.
I agree with Shane. It’s simply brilliant!
I think I got that email.
As I stand in the middle of my kitchen and look at the piles of dishes and remnants of food everywhere I feel defeated and an overhwhelming sense of dismay. I survey the carnage that was once the contents of my pantry shelf and refrigerator; the outlook is bleak. This will take hours to clean up.
It started quite innocently. Being on a diet is a real bitch! I had plans to stay in my pajamas and dance all night by myself to Richard Simmons’ “Sweatin’ to the oldies”. I grabbed a huge turkey drumstick that had been my allotment of protein that night and began to sway and sing into it, as though it were a microphone and I was performing on stage.
(I can do things like this when I am alone and nobody is there to judge me!)
After a few minutes the glamour of this activity wore off and I decided to flip on the food channel and watch the “cooking lite show” Oh, no, instead there was a “sumptuous suppers and chocolate chicanery” marathon! This was food porn in its worst sense! I was captivated….could not take my eyes off the screen. What? Chocolate pizza with caramel and cashew toppings? Bacon and brie tacos with ranch dressing salsa? Oh no! oh no! oh no! Before I knew it I was going berserk in the kitchen, my trusty Julia Child wooden spoon the joystick in my food orgy. My brain conjuring up the aroma of a multitude of sinful dishes, all possible at my fingertips!
So three hours later with my diet blown and my kitchen trashed I would have to live with the aftermath of my transgressions. Sigh! Tomorrow would be a brand new day.
That was so cool, Margaret.
“my trusty Julia Child wooden spoon the joystick in my food orgy” Holy bleep!
That was a great line. Another fun write, wasn’t it!
Thanks, Shane, always fun, but alas, had a shred of autobiographical content !
Sean, cover your eyes!!!!!
This was food porn in its worst sense! I was captivated
What a great line! You have me captivated now
I second that comment!
Shane,
The club does sound exciting! It’s in CA, NY, or located underground in London or Paris
She wanted to dance all night. He wanted to eat pizza and keep her out, looking for good midget porn while staying in his pajamas, the ripe aroma from a trio of unbathed days clinging to the wall.
The carnage would drive him berserk though, it always did. The interactive “Angry Bachelor” video game wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounded. He unfastened his microphone, dropped the joystick on the ground and went to take a shower.
“keep her out, looking” What!!!!
Leave it up to you to find a masterful way to bend the rules like a Matrix episode.
the ripe aroma from a trio of unbathed days clinging to the wall.
Brilliant line! Just brilliant. Instantly activates the senses.
The following evening they decided not to dance all night, but opted for pajamas, pizza and porn flicks. He used his joystick in amazing ways, inspired perhaps by the carnage on screen.
In the morning the aroma of espresso which almost drove her berserk until she had some; her outlook brightened and shimmered.
The moment was shattered with the sound of a microphone announcing the cops after contraband.
;_
There’s my Anne! Once again you make me smile. Like the last challenge, it’s gettin’ hot in here.
The MeatMaster. It sounds like an adult film star’s nickname for his joystick. It doesn’t have a thing to do with naked guys and gals cavorting in unimaginable poses, though.
It’s pizza porn. Piled high with tasty flesh, it’s as if a berserk machete-wielder with an overpowering lust for the aroma of farm animal blood created it.
I didn’t want to dance all night. I didn’t want to guzzle beer with the others down at the Outlook Bar and Grill. I didn’t even want to take a shower. I wanted to sit in front of the tube in my pajamas, stuffing myself with the carnage-topped pie. That was my Saturday night plan.
When the kid at the counter reached for the microphone, I felt a tingle. I knew he was going to call my number.
Okay. I laughed out loud again with your 1st sentence. Great submission. Very descriptive and funny.
“It’s pizza porn. Piled high with tasty flesh, it’s as if a berserk machete-wielder with an overpowering lust for the aroma of farm animal blood created it. Dude, that was the money line!”
I’m so glad you are here.
“It’s pizza porn. Piled high with tasty flesh, it’s as if a berserk machete-wielder with an overpowering lust for the aroma of farm animal blood created it.
I used to own a pizza shop… Pizza Porn – yeah, that brings a few images to mind LOL
What a great line! What’s with all the food porn? I am so hungry right now, I think I’ll go make a pot of gumbo
Dear Cecily,
I’m writing you from the front row seat of disaster. As I survey the carnage in my living room I spy a lumpy couch and empty pizza boxes. I inhale the disgusting aroma of sloth emanating from my unwashed body in filthy pajamas. Yes, I have gone officially berserk, I’m barely recovering from another OD.
My outlook is starting to change as reality sinks in. I don’t have my sister here to bail me out this time. We can’t go out to dance all night. We won’t go tie one on and wail drunkenly into a karaoke microphone . We can still laugh over Joe’s porn collection. My favorite will always be Joystick Junkies.
So this is the deal. I’m going to get up, take a shower, get dressed and go to the first 12 step meeting I can find. I’m done. I can’t do this on my own. I need help. There are no more rehabs, no more chances, I either get my act together or land at the gates of insanity or death. No offense, but I don’t want to end up where you are either.
I miss you and love you forever,
Christina
Loran, again you bring the awesome. Great submission. The 1st sentence was my favorite followed by the segment “I inhale the disgusting aroma of sloth”.
“YO! YO! YO! Listen up dudes and dudettes! Da homey’s in da house!! Look out ladies, I’m gonna spread da joy, stick it to ya with some sweet sticky lovin’,” the pathetic dweeb with the pants half down around his ass and his underwear yanked up near his nipples is shouting into the microphone as the bass begins thumping so loud that my chest aches. I guess this lady’s man is the DJ at this Dance All Night bullshit extravaganza. I’m about ready to stick it to him, along with all the rest of these teenage mutants who don’t have the common sense to get the hell out of their pajamas before leaving the house. This shithole dance bar named “the Dome”, reeks of day old pizza, teen angst and the sweaty hormones of little bastards who crawled away from their computer porn long enough to get loaded and attempt to get shagged in real life. I honestly don’t know why I put myself through this shit but I guess I have a calling.
The little dark man who runs the squirrel cage in my head told me this morning that the outlook was grim. He needed a fix and since he runs the brain factory, I just do as I’m told and work the body unit. The less screaming from the little dark man I have to endure, the better my day goes. The last time I didn’t listen, he went berserk and now I have to figure out how to clean up the mess. The aroma of my parents as they start to decompose is a little too ripe for my liking. They have been permanently having a lovely breakfast around the kitchen table for 8 days now. I hung a lovely pine tree car deodorizer around Dad’s neck (He always did love the outdoors) but now it just smells like pine trees and dead folk. I just can’t win.
Ah well, back to the matter at hand, let’s let the carnage begin. Da homey is in da house.
Lisa, that was twisted! Loved it!
“I hung a lovely pine tree car deodorizer around Dad’s neck (He always did love the outdoors)” Fav line.
I’m going to read that again.
Wow, that’s pretty demented but the pine tree car deodorizer line really is great imagery with humor.
Thanks guys. Every now and then I let my dark side shine through.
Yikes, Lisa, that was great! Very visual (by the way, I too, have a squirrel cage in my head…more like Chip and Dale, but nevertheless there!)
[...a continuing saga, after the waves carried the dolphin duo back to sea]
So, you want to know about dolphin porn, do you?
It’s not all that different from what happens when humans take off their pajamas and engage in orgies of blood-and-sweat carnage, when you get down to the act itself.
Among our school of friends, Hannah likes playing with my joystick and twiddling it in different directions before stroking it and pretending it’s a microphone she can stick into her sound machine.
Our friends go berserk when she does this. Sometimes, they join in. It’s not that we’re perverted or anything, but they know when the Moon glows into our underwater party from above, we go wild.
We don’t need pizza or shrimp or amoeba to feel like this. Hannah and I like to dance all night naked under the canopy of the darkened water. It’s what we do.
When we’re crazy for each other, we let our friends join us and partake in the aroma of lovemaking. Wouldn’t you with your friends?
No? Maybe it’s different with dolphins. Maybe it’s our outlook on marine life…
Ari, I love this saga. Never thought I’d be reading one from a Dolphin perspective. That’s what I love about these things. Just never quite know what you’re gonna’ get.
Thanks buddy.
Going beserk, gonna dance all night,eat pizza,ogle porn, change my outlook, clear the carnage ’cause it’s joy,”Stick,” aroma sweet,nothing micro, “Phone,” & cat’s pajamas that shanearthur’s following me!
Hey Perry. Thanks for stopping by. Great, short submission. We have several people here that always try for the shortest submission. You may have just earned the title thus far.
Everyone welcome Perry to the party.
It was New Year’s Eve, and my outlook was rather grumpy. Dressed in striped flannel pajamas, I was huddling in bed, fervently wishing for things that River Rock Convalescent didn’t provide–a pizza with everything, a computer (complete with joystick-linked games, a microphone, the internet, and porn, in roughly that order), and the ability to walk, never mind dance all night at some fashionable club–when the coppery aroma of newly-spilled blood drifted through the air vent of the room next door.
I didn’t think anything of this. Hemorrhages happen in any hospital. Nursing homes are no different.
Then I realized that my neighbor wasn’t ringing for the nurse. I knew her buzzer had been working a half hour ago, but that was no guarantee that it would continue to work for the rest of the night.
Patients tried to look out for each other, especially when there was a chance of equipment malfunction. Sighing, I leaned over, dragged myself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, pulled my wheelchair closer, and, gripping the handles as best I could, forced myself to stand. Then, pushing the wheelchair ahead of me as if it were a rolling walker, I staggered into the bathroom that connected my room to Rachel Kerr’s and, after testing the door to see if it was locked, turned the handle and gazed at a scene that made no sense.
I had expected to see an old woman crying in pain in a bloody bed; she’d just had a hip operation, so pain would make sense.What I saw instead was a room dripping with carnage. Gallons had been spilled here, but not by a patient who’d gone abruptly berserk; the blood poured out at the room’s four compass points and the Goetia circle painted on the wall in ink and blood told me that much. I knew there was a point to all this, even if I had little notion what it was.
Of Rachel Kerr–eighty-eight years old, bedridden and in pain so intense that she was unable to sit up without screaming–there was no sign at all.
Tracey, that was great. Who woulda’ thunk we’d be reading a challenge about a nursing home. I love these.
Everyone welcome Tracey to the fun. Have a look around at the other challenges, too, Tracey. We have some super talented people leaving some great stories here.
Tracey:
No microphone needed to hear the welcome of the Tri-C community. Your outlook will definitely improve. Better than Saturday night porn, more exciting than a ride on your favorite game’s joystick, it’s the most fun you can have without your pajamas.
So order up a pizza and let the aroma stimulate all your senses. This community rocks and they dance all night long. So go berserk and don’t worry about the carnage. We are always here to give you a, “Job well done!”
Welcome!!
Add Perry to that welcome!
Cathy, that was AWESOME! And a first for the CCC; using a welcome message as the vehicle to do all 10 words took me by such surprise. Awesome idea.
Thanks, Shane. You get a two-fer this week
I wrote the Welcome after submitting my entry. The group inspires me. 
They continued on the path not noticing a slightly darker shadow separating itself from the shelter of the fountain.
“Hey guys, wait up!” a voice called. The shimmering moonlight danced across the face of a friend.
“Hi Scott, what’s up?”Nate asked. Hannah smiled and waved her greeting. She wasn’t a huge fan of Scott. He was always going berserk about something and tended to drag Nate down with him.
“They’re having some kind of dance all night karaoke party over at the Outlook. Wanna go? If you wear pajamas, you get free drinks.” Scott gave Hannah a look that he thought went unnoticed.
“Oh yeah? Sounds like it could be fun,” Nate responded but he had his own ideas for Hannah in pajamas. ”We were just headed to Alfredo’s. Why don’t you join us?” Hannah rolled her eyes in an expression that both men missed in the dark. So much for date night, Hannah thought.
The aroma of garlic and tomato sauce drifted out of the doors of Alfredo’s New York Style Pizza and the carnage of a late-night pizza place was scattered about the small restaurant. An old arcade style Pac Man stood in the corner, its joystick sticky with pizza sauce. Music drifted in from the Outlook next door where pretty young co-eds sang and danced with the microphone as though they were auditioning for The Next Great American Porn Star and the cute young guys were judges. It was the perfect place for Scott or even Nate but not so much for Hannah. As they ate their pizza and talked about classes and parties and The Butterfly Effect, Hannah tried to think of an excuse to not go to the Outlook.
She didn’t have to think long – the decision was soon made for her.
Kool Aid, I love how you tied into your last submission.
But, I have to wait till next week to find out what happens?!!!!!!
Damn, I love these things.
I have no idea what happens next. Honestly, I didn’t know where to go with it so I figured a cliffhanger was just as good an ending as anything else.
I will say this, though, I have the hardest time NOT reading all the other stories before writing my own.
I agree! Trying to write your own first before reading everyone else’s submissions is proving to be quite the challenge!
I purposely don’t read the others before writing mine – I might be too intimidated!
I like going back afterwards and reading all the great stuff.
Just read Kool-Aid’s–this is what I am talking about–totally awesome.
I simply can NOT read others before I post. Although I always find a way to come up with something, the fear is there, and if I read other people’s stuff, I would not be able to think on my own.
I don’t know the name of this phenom., but it’s like telling someone not to think of something. The harder they try not to think of it, the more they do.
Shane,
That’s exactly why I don’t read the others first. I want to be able to come up with the writing all on my own without being influenced by the others. It’s even harder not to read when I’m not feeling the inspiration for the words…
Indeed.
I agree.
In fact, I go one further in that I don’t even check out the prompts until I am ready to start my own writing session, usually during lunch hour.
thank you
thank you so much, Cathy
It was my friend Jim’s bachelors party. Ten of us gathered together in Atlantic City for Jim’s last night out on the town. I don’t know about you, but I never would have guessed that it would end the way that it did.
It should have been a normal event, you know, a porn star stripper who would dance all night, the aroma of cheap perfume, beer, and pizza assaulting your senses, the outlook of losing big at the tables while too inebriated to stand without support. Just the regular kind of things you would expect when ten 20-something ex-Marines got together for a party.
But it didn’t work that way. Scott was in charge, and he just flat out doesn’t have a clue about how to organize a regular party. After all, his idea of a great time is sitting in front of his X Box in his pajamas, joystick in hand, and a wireless microphone on his head. I mean Scott, great guy though he is, would much rather go berserk playing War Games than actually spend time in the company of a knock your socks off real life woman. Scott was one of the best snipers I saw in the Corps, but in civilian life, he needs help.
Instead of a party, we went to dinner at Coyote Ugly, watching the girls dancing on the tables. The food wasn’t bad, and one of the waitresses started playing along when she found out that Jim was about to get hitched. Scott spent most of the time asking if everyone was OK, and if he should have done something else. Brian Glaser, the Mayor of my hometown was sitting at the next table over having dinner with Governor Johanson and some political consultant from Atlanta.
Jowls and I both saw the runners at the same time. Dressed like Ninja’s, they ran right in the front door, through the tables, knocking people over as they ran. One had a backpack in his hand that he tossed at Brian as he ran passed his table and out through the kitchen. Immediately we tried to clear the dining room. We didn’t make it. You’ve seen the carnage on the news.
It was Iraq all over again.
Cleve, that was super!
“the aroma of cheap perfume, beer, and pizza assaulting your senses”
That was my favorite line. Great description there.
or if you prefer;
I wanted to dance all night, eat pizza, drink beer, and smell the aroma of burning insense. Instead I went berserk in my tattered pajamas, playing my joystick, wreaking carnage and singing into the microphone with the outlook of porn on my mind.
Cleve, I like them both equally. Each style has something to say, and you said it perfectly.
Sorry for the moderation delay. I put the kids to bed and it appears I was more tired than I thought. Good thing my wife woke me up 5 hours later.
The place had the look of frat house carnage. Tables strewn with beer cans, mummified pizza and cigarette butts floating in urine-colored liquid. The aroma of stale sex conjured up pajama-less perverts auditioning for the next great porn flick while a plastic Barbie tried to dance all night on their joystick.
Closing her eyes, she stepped up to the microphone. This was not the outlook she envisioned for the first time she sang. Softly, she began. Ignoring hateful shouts of obscenity, she sang the words etched on her soul – the words she had to get out. The buzzing sound of raucous laughter slowly quieted. But she did not hear. Caught in the anguish of all that brought her here, she sang. And with the final note – silence.
She opened her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek. The place went berserk.
Kathy, this is too weird that you write this. I was a fraternity boy and I remember a time where a girl got on stage and did the same thing. With her, though, it was a style like opera and it didn’t go over quite well. Man that brought back a hidden memory. Thank you.
I like happy endings.
Whew! that was a real chore. Cleaning this kitchen in the aftermath of my food orgy made me dance all night with the devil,who instead of sitting back in his easy chair with his stash of angel porn or out looking to cause carnage on the freeway, was quite content just to stand by and snicker at me. My pajamas will need to be fumigated to exorcise the aroma of bacon gone berserk.
Hallelujah!, I want to shout out the window with a microphone. Finally done. Hopefully, after ingesting all those carbs with 30wt oil I won’t be subject to having a pizza-face tomorrow. It will be a joy sticking with a healthy food plan from now on. God bless Jenny Craig in a bikini makin’ it with Dr. Atkins on South Beach!
Love this! Too funny–God bless Jenny Craig in a bikini makin’ it with Dr. Atkins on South Beach! What a great line. LOL!
Thanks, Cathy. Gotta keep your sense of humor when undergoing chocolate deprivation!
Amen, Sister :-)
WHAT!!! It will be a joy sticking with… This is a family patented technique. I’m going to try and steal this form for the next challenge. And this is your 2nd submission! Awesome Margaret.
I was getting antsy waiting for the next challenge so i decided to continue the saga. Now it’s time for reality in MY kitchen which I neglected Valentine’s week and the AROMA is no JOY and everything is STICKy
Sorry It’s Late. Didn’t Have Time Until This Morning.
Luke Tenpenny walked along the sidewalk towards his Theatre Arts class in Shepherd Hall. This was his second semester teaching at Meadow Brook University. Luke looked at his watch.
8:10, Crap!
Luke was running late on the first day of class. It didn’t help that his wife, Alicia spent the better part of the morning nagging at him about staying out at the Welcome Back Dance all night.
He stepped up his pace when his phone rang.
Great, now to hear more of it.
He answered the phone.
“Hey Sweetheart!”
“You didn’t take the trash out this morning. The pizza boxes are still in the kitchen and the aroma is disgusting.”
“I’m sorry, Sweetie. You know I was running late. Can you take it to the curb please?”
“I guess I don’t have a choice now do I?”
“Hey Mister Tennpenny!!”
Sylvia Blanca, a student of his last semester comes up to him and hands him a flyer for the Tri-Delt Gumbo Cook off.
“..it’s going to be this Saturday outside the quad. All the Deltas would love it if you could be a judge.”
Alicia was still going off in his ear.
“Yeah, sure Sylvia. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Cool beans, Mister Tennpenny. I’m on Facebook. Let me know.”
Then she takes off handing out more flyers.
“Who the hell was that?”
“A student, why?”
“I could hear how she would sing your name.”
“Can you give it a rest, ‘Licia? I need to get to class.”
It was useless to argue with her over the phone. Luke was getting irritated with her and his body language to show his frustration was obvious. He had passed the Hundred Year Tree. That’s where he proposed to Alicia their senior year. His outlook on life was different back then. Alicia was different back then. Everything changed after the miscarriage.
Luke noticed this creepy kid giving him the hairy eyeball.
What’s up with this guy?
Creepy Kid would not take his eyes off Luke. It was pissing him off more than he already was.
What is this kid’s problem??
He broke the stare down and continued his attention to Alicia.
“Listen, Sweetie. I’m sorry about the trash. If you could take it out for me please, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll bring home a movie tonight, okay?”
“Sure, I guess.”
“Great. I’m almost to class, I’ll call you later. Bye Sweetie.”
“Bye Lucius.”
Ugh.
Luke hated his real name. What parent names their kids Lucius? He entered the building and into the class. The students were talking and texting waiting for him to get there. They turn their attention to their teacher.
“Okay Ramblers. Let’s get rambling!”
Everyone straightens up as Luke walks towards the front of the class.
“Welcome back, everyone. Sorry I’m late. I haven’t seen most of you since the New York Broadway trip. Did everyone who went have a good time??’
A student starts to tell about his experience in New York when the fire alarm starts blaring.
What the hell?
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The students start cheering thinking they’ll have to leave class.
“Everyone just hang on. This has to be some sort of glitch. Let me go check first.”
As Luke gets closer to the door, he hears what could be gun shots and people screaming.
What the hell is going on out there??
Luke opens the door and the world has gone berserk. Someone had pulled the fire alarm to lure people into the hallway and started shooting. It had only been about 20 seconds at the most, and carnage had enveloped Shepherd Hall.
Bodies were lying on the floor, lifeless. A girl in pajamas screams and tries to run around the bodies into the mess of people being slaughtered.
The seconds passed like minutes. He looked back at the shooter.
Creepy Kid??
Luke see’s the smile on Creepy Kid’s face. This was a game to him as he used his guns as life ending joysticks. And he was getting off to this. This was his porn.
Luke didn’t take another second to take in the situation and charged at Creepy Kid. Too many people were losing their lives, he had to do something.
He hit Creepy Kid hard in the ribs. He felt a couple crack as he tackled him to the ground. Creepy Kid’s head smashed against the floor and dropped one of his guns. Luke grabs the gun, stands up and points it and yells at Creepy Kid.
“What the hell are you doing?!?! Let go of the other gun!!”
Luke could have been screaming at him through a microphone and Creepy Kid would not have registered anything with that glazed look on his face.
Was that his face before or after he hit the ground?
Creepy Kid smiles and points his gun at Luke.
BLAM! BLAM!
They fire at the same time. Luke falls against the wall and slides down leaving a blood smear against the bulletin board. He sees blood coming out of his left shoulder. It takes a couple seconds to register the piercing pain coming from the same shoulder.
He looks over at Creepy Kid with blood coming out of his chest. Lifeless, with that same smile on his face.
Luke feels unconsciousness coming down on him. He manages to pull his phone from his pocket. He pushes the talk button twice.
Alicia picks up.
“Lucius?”
“Sorry about the movie, ‘Licia. I probably won’t make it. I love you as I always have.”
“Lucius, what’s going on? What happened?”
Luke’s eyes close as his hand falls to the floor.
Ohh man, that was great, Eric. Killed off the character at the end, too!
I loved this journey you took us on.
Thanks buddy.
Okay, Eric, you rock! I am glad I went back to “Mark” before I read this.
I’ll read the rest and comment again on #146.
Cheers,
Mitch
Emma looked in the mirror. Two lifeless eyes stared back at her – she looked a little harder and wondered how she had managed to sleep in her baby doll pyjamas the wrong way round! Her hennaed hair stood on end and last night’s makeup was streaked down her cheeks. She had the look of some porn queen in a strange distorted sort of way.
She looked at her dressing table and noticed the remains of a half eaten pepperoni pizza. There was an aroma of stale alcohol and tobacco in the air, causing her to wrinkle her nose with distaste. Her eyes then travelled round the room and rested on the bed – whose head was that on the pillow? ” Oh my God! Mum will go absolutely berserk! I’ll be grounded forever!” she whimpered.
Faint memories began to drift into her head. She had met him at the Jumping Frog; she recalled taking the microphone with him for a rendition of “King of the Swingers” and duly winning second prize in the karaoke. Fancy being beaten by a teenage skinhead singing “Ghostbusters”! Back to the head on the pillow – from the dim throbbing hangover mists in her head, she seemed to recall that he had said his name was Doug and that he was a long distance lorry driver and that he wanted to dance all night with her. She looked out of her bedroom window and saw the articulated lorry parked outside the house and thought wryly, “at least some of it was true.”
Her parents had a different outlook to hers. They just couldn’t understand that, at 43 years of age, she was a grown woman: they still treated her as a child despite her three failed marriages and four children. Perhaps it was time to leave home and find a place of her own and clean up the carnage which was her life.
Her stomach started to lurch in a startling fashion as though she was in a runaway jet plane and the pilot was performing crazy stunts, joystick in hand. She realised that it was 11.30 already and that her grandchildren would be here to visit in 5 minutes!
The thud of footsteps on the stairs confirmed that they were here already – this was going to be interesting!
Carole, that was fantastic. Well written and kept me glued to the screen. Thank you for sharing this. I sure hope that you do CCC17, too.
Hey, girl are you ready to go yet?
What do you mean you are still in your pajamas?
Get dressed! Come on and meet us…
No…No…we are going out.
Yeah, we’re going to that new club on Outlook Point…No. not that one. It’s called Carnage.
We are going to get some pizza, then hit the club. I am ready to go berserk on the dance floor. We are going to dance all night.
Uh huh…Right…No, He’s not going. I thought I told you.
No, girl we broke up…Yes. I caught that fool downloading porn…I know that’s right. …Girl, please… haha…with his joystick…You so crazy.
No…I am parking at the pizza place now….don’t worry, you’ll find it. You can smell the aroma of the pizza 5 blocks away…
Sorry, I can’t hear you some guy with a microphone is yelling
So, are you coming?
Clara, I love the conversation snippet you’ve got going here.
Isn’t it cool how any situation can be packaged into the CCCs!!!
There was nothing I would rather do than watch Song’s nude doppelganger dance all night with the dolphin. They were putting on quite a show—better than porn. And the aroma! I fingered my joystick and contemplated slipping into my pajamas and ordering a pizza. But then I thought better of it. She was exquisite, but there was time enough for that later. Or so I hoped. Now, there was no time to dilly dally. My recent conversation with Velvet had changed my outlook on Shane Arthur, the SEU and Shan Earth Ur. It was time for me to make a statement. It was time to go berserk!
“Let the carnage begin!” I screamed into an imaginary microphone.
hahaha. I love it! Such a great read.
It just keeps getting better!
Thank you. Thank you.
I took the joystick from the dead pilot and donned his headset. It smelled like smoke, fear, and bourbon, a suitable aroma for the carnage he had caused.
Three engines out, four blown windows, no fuel, stuck landing gear, and nothing but asphalt anthills to land on; the outlook was a grim, violent form of porn ending in people pizza. What made the poor bastard go berserk like that?
“We can dance all night in pajamas,” I said, “but that won’t keep this bird in the air.” I radioed the tower. “What can we do?” I whispered into the microphone.
“Pick a spot and pray,” was all they said.
Friendly skies my ass!
“Raaaaah-bie,” Angela whined, “I wanted to go out and dance all night! And you’re still in your pajamas!”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather watch porn,” Robbie burped over his pizza.
The oniony aroma made her wrinkle her nose. “Do you really think I want to watch porn all night? You said we’d do something fun!” Her voice was shrill now, as if it were magnified by an invisible microphone, and he knew she was approaching her pre-berserk level.
To minimize the carnage, he said, “Well, we’ve obviously got different outlooks on the subject of Friday night. How about we compromise and play a game instead?” He wiggled the plastic joystick at her suggestively.
“You’re hopeless!” she yelled.
@Sara: Super funny…and super hot! Loved it, you little devil you!
Thanks!