The next weekly challenge topic is: Scroll
SCRIBBLING WREN LISA
The Last Supper
John was the host with the most, his pavlovas were to die for.
He was a demon in the kitchen and always used fresh local ingredients. A lot of the vegetables he grew himself at his well tended allotment plot. He blended his own spices and there always seemed to be one flavour you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was.
There wasn’t a pudding today, it didn’t matter because after the main course his guests couldn’t move anyway. They weren’t stuffed, he’d drugged them. It was then that he shackled them and began to enjoy his evening.
RICHARD
Hostess with the mostess
She was the perfect host: Attentive, considerate and she always made you feel right at home.
Her parties were always memorable, and you knew you’d made it, if ever you received an invitation.
These parties were occasions not to be missed, and were often frequented by politicians, judges and celebrities, you’d be rubbing shoulders with everybody who was anybody.
She had a cracking pair of tits too! Along with a figure to die for and a wicked technique with the whip and restraints.
She was expensive, of course, but you certainly got your money’s worth.
Best damn dominatrix in town!
TOM
Sugar in Any Form
I have a warm memory from childhood of the Hostess thrift story. A little bit bigger than three bathrooms, but racks of week, to month old: ho ho-s, ding dongs, suzy q’s, sno balls, zingers, and my beloved Twinkies. ALL mime, mine, mine. I was a sugar junky. Would have been dead by now if it hadn’t been for a three years stay in an organic bakery drying me out. Last year my youth caught up with me. Diabetes. A host of sugar adjacent food sources were purged. Am I happy? Let us say being good is its own punishment
LIZZIE
“A plate full of love,” she said, looking at the heart-shaped biscuits and blinking her eyes slowly, like a cat.
He frowned.
She raised her voice to a higher pitch. “You don’t think so?”
Careful, he thought. Never ever contradict a host holding a plate.
“Valentine?” She insisted. “Love and all that?”
He nodded. Pink little hearts…
“Fine, don’t say anything. I’ll toss them in the garbage.”
He nodded.
That’s when that plate flew in his direction.
The gash on his head wasn’t the shape of a heart.
That love wasn’t meant to happen. He just hated pink freaking biscuits.
SERENDIPIDY
You’ve heard of the heavenly host? Let me introduce you to the unheavenly host.
We don’t sit around on clouds all day, dressed in white nightgowns, playing harps. We favour denim and leather, and cruise around on Harleys, blasting out sick riffs on Les Paul sunbursts.
Then there’s the whole being saintly and giving it up to God thing.
Stuff that! For us, it’s mob rule, sex, drugs and rock n roll.
I’ll be honest with you, heaven these days is pretty empty. When the angels see the fun they could have with us, they’re down here like a shot!
NORVAL JOE
The two knights directed Billbert and Sabrina to a rusted Chrysler 300 with all the windows tinted. They were pushed into the back seat. The dark knights squeezed in beside them.
An hour later they pulled up to a decrepit cabin dwarfed by tall pines and redwoods.
Inside the cabin they found an old man wearing a black hood with holes cut out for his eyes and mouth. He smiled a yellow toothed smile. “I will be your host while you stay with us.”
Billbert scoffed. “I have a host of questions. First. Do all of you have yellow teeth?”
PLANET Z
Aside from dropping dead in his own mansion, Mr. Body was actually a pretty good host for the party.
The invitations went out, the mansion was clean and well-decorated, and the caterers provided the best wine, appetizers, and dinner to the guests.
Leaving out so many weapons, well, that may have been taking the decorations a bit too far.
And when it comes to hosting a murder mystery, well, ten out of ten points for that.
In the end, everyone had a great time.
Well, except for the murderer, of course. They were hauled off to jail by the cops.