Showing posts with label nonsense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nonsense. Show all posts
Monday, January 2, 2017
This is not the thing
Monday, January 13, 2014
To The Ginger Goes The Doll
Prompt from http://www.writing.com/main/writing_prompts, because my brain hurts: “A new employee in a toy store finds an old supernatural Barbie doll.”
[I'm going with "Supernatural" doll ^_^]
“Oh my gosh!” Kayla was running up the aisle, a rectangular box in her hands. She slid to a stop, her Converse squeaking on the floor. “Look what I found! Look what I found!”
Angi and Rachael exchanged a glance. “What did you find?” Rachael asked, peering at the box the other girl held. With a flourish, Kayla turned the box to face them.
“A Dean Winchester doll!”
Kayla turned to her left as her fiancée and fellow employee joined the group. “No way,” he shook his head, eyes on the doll, “What will you do with that thing? You don’t need that. Put it back.”
Kayla glared (and an impressive glare it was, for Kayla was a ginger). Angi and Rachael stepped back to avoid the crossfire.
Turning the full strength of her mighty glare upon her fiancée, she stomped one Converse-clad foot and declared, “I needs it!”
It was a happy new toy-store employee who went home with the Dean Winchester doll that night.
[I'm going with "Supernatural" doll ^_^]
“Oh my gosh!” Kayla was running up the aisle, a rectangular box in her hands. She slid to a stop, her Converse squeaking on the floor. “Look what I found! Look what I found!”
Angi and Rachael exchanged a glance. “What did you find?” Rachael asked, peering at the box the other girl held. With a flourish, Kayla turned the box to face them.
“A Dean Winchester doll!”
Kayla turned to her left as her fiancée and fellow employee joined the group. “No way,” he shook his head, eyes on the doll, “What will you do with that thing? You don’t need that. Put it back.”
Kayla glared (and an impressive glare it was, for Kayla was a ginger). Angi and Rachael stepped back to avoid the crossfire.
Turning the full strength of her mighty glare upon her fiancée, she stomped one Converse-clad foot and declared, “I needs it!”
It was a happy new toy-store employee who went home with the Dean Winchester doll that night.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
The one with Kenny Chesney and the Zombies
Prompt: “Your friend discovers an alternative fuel and the car makers try to kill him.”
‘Wait! I have to stop for a minute.’ I leaned against the concrete wall of the abandoned service station, hands resting on my thighs and gasping for breath, ‘How long have we been running now?’
My best friend leaned next to me, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. “I don’t know,” she was trying to catch her own breath, “Two days now?”
I joined her on the ground and we scanned our surroundings for a minute. The only sounds were the distant traffic and our labored breathing.
Beverly pulled a bottle of water from the backpack slung over her shoulder. She opened it and took a drink, then passed it to me. “This is crazy!” Only she used more colorful expressions, expressions so colorful that they’re not allowed in short stories and even some porn.
I nodded in agreement – I was quite used to her colorful expressions, they only made me cringe a little now. “You did discover a new fuel,” I reminded her, passing the water bottle back to her, “One that would put half the big-wig corporations out of business. It’s no wonder they’re trying to kill us.”
“How was I supposed to know that mixing mayonnaise and ranch dressing would make a car run?” Bev kicked at a rock near her foot, “I was just trying to jack up that SOB’s car for taking the last Twinkie at Circle K!”
I giggled suddenly, “You and your Twinkies. We should be in a zombie movie.”
“Well,” she shot me a grin, “We did turn that whole laundry mat full of people into zombies when we threw that vial with the virus at them.”
“I just wanted to see what it would do!” Gotta defend my actions, even if they were a little on the not-too-smart-there side.
“No worries,” Bev shot me a confident smirk as she lit up a smoke, “We’ll be fine when we get to Kenny Chesney’s place. Our contacts said he would help us out.”
“You’ve been planning to kidnap Kenny Chesney for years now,” I rolled my eyes, “but Kayla knows her CIA agents and swears he’s one, so it’s worth a shot.”
We stood and picked up our packs and shotguns. “Let’s go, before those whackos from the car companies find us again.”
“Or the zombies,” Bev added, taking a last puff off her cigarette. We walked away from the station; it went up in flames behind us as she tossed her smoke over her shoulder.
We do like to make a scene.
‘Wait! I have to stop for a minute.’ I leaned against the concrete wall of the abandoned service station, hands resting on my thighs and gasping for breath, ‘How long have we been running now?’
My best friend leaned next to me, sliding down the wall to sit on the ground. “I don’t know,” she was trying to catch her own breath, “Two days now?”
I joined her on the ground and we scanned our surroundings for a minute. The only sounds were the distant traffic and our labored breathing.
Beverly pulled a bottle of water from the backpack slung over her shoulder. She opened it and took a drink, then passed it to me. “This is crazy!” Only she used more colorful expressions, expressions so colorful that they’re not allowed in short stories and even some porn.
I nodded in agreement – I was quite used to her colorful expressions, they only made me cringe a little now. “You did discover a new fuel,” I reminded her, passing the water bottle back to her, “One that would put half the big-wig corporations out of business. It’s no wonder they’re trying to kill us.”
“How was I supposed to know that mixing mayonnaise and ranch dressing would make a car run?” Bev kicked at a rock near her foot, “I was just trying to jack up that SOB’s car for taking the last Twinkie at Circle K!”
I giggled suddenly, “You and your Twinkies. We should be in a zombie movie.”
“Well,” she shot me a grin, “We did turn that whole laundry mat full of people into zombies when we threw that vial with the virus at them.”
“I just wanted to see what it would do!” Gotta defend my actions, even if they were a little on the not-too-smart-there side.
“No worries,” Bev shot me a confident smirk as she lit up a smoke, “We’ll be fine when we get to Kenny Chesney’s place. Our contacts said he would help us out.”
“You’ve been planning to kidnap Kenny Chesney for years now,” I rolled my eyes, “but Kayla knows her CIA agents and swears he’s one, so it’s worth a shot.”
We stood and picked up our packs and shotguns. “Let’s go, before those whackos from the car companies find us again.”
“Or the zombies,” Bev added, taking a last puff off her cigarette. We walked away from the station; it went up in flames behind us as she tossed her smoke over her shoulder.
We do like to make a scene.
Friday, January 3, 2014
No Dignity in Death (by Woodchipper)
Prompt: ‘I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family.’
The family stood outside the storage shed – Mom and dad, two brothers and three sisters. Their eyes were on the fourth sister, who stood next to a large contraption which sat outside the shed’s doors.
The fourth daughter was upset. “I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family.
“Now Betsy,” Mom stepped forward, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “There is nothing dignified about throwing yourself into the wood chipper!”
“She’s right, you know,” one of the twin brothers (oldest by two minutes) added, “Your guts and blood and bones are gonna fly everywhere.”
“And I just did that laundry!” the youngest sister pointed to the clothesline which hung nearby, drying in the gentle breeze (because drying them on the line made them smell springtime fresh). It was in the direct line of fire of the wood chipper.
“Well it’s not fair!” Betsy stomped her foot, “Bobby was supposed to take me to the prom and now he’s taking that — that — whore!”
Pop covered his hands with his face, Mom gasped “Language!” and the other sisters giggled. The brothers rolled their eyes simultaneously.
“Is that all?” the youngest of the twins asked.
“Is that all? Is that all!” Betsy picked up a piece of wood and chucked it at him, “I don’t have a prom date! Everyone will laugh at me!”
“We’ll take care of that girl for you,” the oldest brother soothed, “then you’ll have your prom date back.”
“Sure,” his twin agreed with a grin, “Knock her in the head, take her out to Pike’s Point and throw her in the woods, they won’t find her for months. Prom will be over by then.”
“You would do that for me?” Betsy smiled for the first time since her date had dumped her, “Really?”
“Of course,” both brothers agreed, “Anything for our little sister!”
“You’re the best!” Betsy threw herself at her brothers, nearly knocking them over.
“Can we go inside now?” Pop shook his head and turned toward the house, “My dinner’s getting cold.”
The family stood outside the storage shed – Mom and dad, two brothers and three sisters. Their eyes were on the fourth sister, who stood next to a large contraption which sat outside the shed’s doors.
The fourth daughter was upset. “I have the right to die in a dignified manner,” she told her family.
“Now Betsy,” Mom stepped forward, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “There is nothing dignified about throwing yourself into the wood chipper!”
“She’s right, you know,” one of the twin brothers (oldest by two minutes) added, “Your guts and blood and bones are gonna fly everywhere.”
“And I just did that laundry!” the youngest sister pointed to the clothesline which hung nearby, drying in the gentle breeze (because drying them on the line made them smell springtime fresh). It was in the direct line of fire of the wood chipper.
“Well it’s not fair!” Betsy stomped her foot, “Bobby was supposed to take me to the prom and now he’s taking that — that — whore!”
Pop covered his hands with his face, Mom gasped “Language!” and the other sisters giggled. The brothers rolled their eyes simultaneously.
“Is that all?” the youngest of the twins asked.
“Is that all? Is that all!” Betsy picked up a piece of wood and chucked it at him, “I don’t have a prom date! Everyone will laugh at me!”
“We’ll take care of that girl for you,” the oldest brother soothed, “then you’ll have your prom date back.”
“Sure,” his twin agreed with a grin, “Knock her in the head, take her out to Pike’s Point and throw her in the woods, they won’t find her for months. Prom will be over by then.”
“You would do that for me?” Betsy smiled for the first time since her date had dumped her, “Really?”
“Of course,” both brothers agreed, “Anything for our little sister!”
“You’re the best!” Betsy threw herself at her brothers, nearly knocking them over.
“Can we go inside now?” Pop shook his head and turned toward the house, “My dinner’s getting cold.”
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Robot Wanted
I’m exhausted. The end!
No, I’m kidding. Well, not about the exhausted part. That would be a boring thing to kid about. My sense of humour is wayyy better than that (or so I like to tell myself).
I went to do an assessment/training for a new job today. I think I did fairly well, I’ll find out in a few days. It’s a factory job. I’ve been in childcare for 13 years, at one childcare center, but I resigned that position last month (long, ranty post about that coming, no doubt). I’ve never worked a factory job. Heck, I’ve never even been on the production floor of a factory. Today I went for the assessment, for a Toyota plant.
Johnny Depp. Dreamy sigh.
What? Where was I? Oh, right.
After the hour’s drive home, I promptly and enthusiastically… sat my butt down on the couch and fell asleep for about 30 minutes. My hubby & our roommate (my brother’s lovely girlfriend is staying with us) came home half an hour after I dozed off, and I whined about hunger, as I hadn’t eaten since 6:30 a.m. Legit whining, it was 1 pm! Hubby offered to fix me food. I growled out something incoherent, and it was decided that wifey (me!) and roomie should go out for Chinese food. Yum.
I’ve spent the last hour learning a dance (“Break The Chains”) for the 1 Billion Rising movement, which will be taking place on Lovey-Gooey Day. That’s Valentine’s Day in street terms.
So. Worked my booty off today, then came home & danced for an hour. Yay exercise. *collapse*
I should be making jewelry that I’ve sold & need to ship out tomorrow. If I had gotten to build that robot at the factory, it could be doing it for me! D:<
It’s time to make the young’uns do homework. I could use a whole army of robots for that.
I’ll leave you with this:
[Amy Pond, you groovy, snarky companion. (<3 Doctor Who)].
No, I’m kidding. Well, not about the exhausted part. That would be a boring thing to kid about. My sense of humour is wayyy better than that (or so I like to tell myself).
I went to do an assessment/training for a new job today. I think I did fairly well, I’ll find out in a few days. It’s a factory job. I’ve been in childcare for 13 years, at one childcare center, but I resigned that position last month (long, ranty post about that coming, no doubt). I’ve never worked a factory job. Heck, I’ve never even been on the production floor of a factory. Today I went for the assessment, for a Toyota plant.
I did not get to build a robot. *sulk*
I did, however, do a lot of repetitive tasks, bunches of lifting, and some kickbutt drilling. Would have been better if I was getting paid for the four hours I was there, but alas, they waved their cutlasses about and I was without my Jack Sparrow hat, so I agreed to a non-paid assessment/testing.
Johnny Depp. Dreamy sigh.What? Where was I? Oh, right.
I’ve spent the last hour learning a dance (“Break The Chains”) for the 1 Billion Rising movement, which will be taking place on Lovey-Gooey Day. That’s Valentine’s Day in street terms.
I should be making jewelry that I’ve sold & need to ship out tomorrow. If I had gotten to build that robot at the factory, it could be doing it for me! D:<
It’s time to make the young’uns do homework. I could use a whole army of robots for that.
I’ll leave you with this:
[Amy Pond, you groovy, snarky companion. (<3 Doctor Who)].
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