Many folk with multiple vertebrae have asked how do you Tom write a 100 word story
I have found the more syllables you cram into a word the smarter you sound. People are prone to blindly agree with something said if they have no idea what the hack it meant. As a rule you can not go far a field if you stick to roman roots with a mess of suffixes and prefixes. Words used by German PhDs from the seventeen hundred are fair game. If you are at loss make a word up. Who knows some puer-ile dunce might see it and bam your in Webster’s. Try this one out hypercriticallity sounds pretty swank Yes.
The Verona town guard gave the Capulets and Montagues a wide berth during patrols.
“Wherefore art thou, Romeo?” shouted Juliet.
Romeo was behind a tree, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “I swear I’ll get you, bitch!” he shouted back.
Juliet swung the rifle around and squeezed the trigger.
Romeo yelped in terror as the bullet struck the tree he was behind.
“Come out and tell me how my beauty is like the sun one more time, you creep!”
Romeo heard Juliet’s father chastising her.
He made a quick escape… and took a bullet in the back.
“Good shot, Daddy!” Juliet cheered.
Many folk with apposing thumbs have asked how do you Tom write a 100 word story
If your goal is to put someone to sleep nothing beats a good bedtime story. Though cadence and tone are important don’t forget the list of essential words. Soft, floating, warm, wrapped, resting, heavy, drift, peacefully. You are laying on a pile of plush pillows. They rise from the deck of a boat floating gently down the meandering river. You are wrapped in warm blankets. All the world is resting. Your eyelids are growing heavy. You drift peacefully to sleep. An alien tractorbeam is lifting you upward. A green man with a stout cylinder in his hand smiles. Sweet dreams.
Under most circumstances, the escape of a cloned mammoth would be the lead in the evening newscast.
However, with the river flooding and filling with sharks, that was not the case.
“We should lead with the mammoth,” said the anchor, touching up her makeup in the mirror. “People don’t have to go into the water, but that rampaging mammoth might hurt someone out on the street.”
“It’s not exactly rampaging,” said the producer. “It’s just sitting there. We’ve got video of kids petting it.”
“What about the sharks?”
“Um, we can’t show the video of kids trying to pet them.”
Many folk have walked up to me on the street and asked how do you tom write a 100 word story
Wow it’s been 100 hours since I started. Even with sleeping I have churned out 50 stories. Each vaguely about some aspect of writing. I have made sure to offer no usable advice, to be as confusing and obscure as possible. If you have been following along, shame on you go out side and play in the sun. For the poor souls who have listen I have an added treaty. The structure of this opus is actual Mahler’s Sixth Symphony using each letter in place of its corresponding note. Email me your address and I’ll send you the transformation key.
I hated stuffing. Onions and celery are not my idea of a goodtime. Cubed Wonder bread drowned in Butterball bastings rates low on the list of edibles. I hated gravy. Lumpy slurry of corn starch commingling with the burn ooze of said Butterball to produce a mud brown viscous paste. The night Margret made thanksgiving dinner was the night my taste buds were born again. No Butterball, a free range bird. No onion or celery Walnuts garbanzos and an herb from Thailand. A demi-glace au poulet reduced from 12 Toms blended into in virgin olive oil whipped into a soufflé
Many folk have found it much easer to bungi jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge than bring themselves to say how do you tom write a 100 word story
I got a new goal. A major university offers a course in late Marquette literature. To be up there with the big boys like George Sands. That would be grand. I tried making an offer to Marquette University but the Jesuits pointed out the nepotistic conflict. Oxford was in the running, but in the end Georgetown won. I put 6 million dollars in a blind account BAM I’m in the catalog. Oh its been many years since that first course they now have a Marquette chair at Georgetown and Oxford sends a guest lecturer to debate the merit of pictures.
Once upon a Tim, there was a happy colony of bacteria.
I can’t tell you where that colony was on Tim, but wherever it was, the bacteria were happy.
Tim, on the other hand, was not happy.
The bacteria were flesh-eating bacteria, and since Tim was the closest flesh to them, the bacteria were eating Tim.
Tim lay in the hospital, nurses pumping antibiotics into his body while doctors prepared for emergency radical amputation.
The bacteria lived happily ever after in a petri dish at the CDC.
Tim, or what was left of him, didn’t.
(Who cares, right?)
The end.
Many folk lossed on Jeporde when the final question was how do you Tom write a 100 word story
When I write I like to put at least one word with the letter Q on the page. Word disruptions in English writing dictates that occurrence. I think it is my duty to help that process along. I am very fond of the letter Q. I have one in my name so I have developed a close affinity to everything Qness and am always on the look out for Q everywhere. I have a small house in city with a Q on an island with a Q. I was raise on Ave Q not the play the street in Washington.
Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was “Consternation” and “Floor Wax” and “Firewood” and “Deadly Marshmallows”
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.
Tom
I dropped floor wax onto firewood it created deadly marshmallows.
I consternationed for some time whether to give Timmy marshmallows.
They glistened in the sun like caramelized candy cotton clouds.
Timmy was a dick one less Timmy one less dick.
I put the marshmallows next to the white kindergarten paste.
“Poison Marshmallows, don’t eat,” read the sign atop the Marshmallows.
Timmy read the sign and popped two into his mouth.
It wasn’t long before Timmy was rolling on the floor.
His eyes glazed and turned a lovely shade of white.
Come to think of it Jimmy is a dick too.
Zackmann
Lit the firewood wanting to relax after a long day of house cleaning about read The Deadly
Marshmallows a Harry Potter farce. Just as I sat down the neighbor knocked on my backdoor.
“Hi, I saw the use the back door sign. I think you may have used too much floor wax on the front
deck. That will take days to dry.”
“I am hoping it will cause the zombies some consternation also hoping they can’t read.”
“Really, aren’t zombies always consternated?”
“Good point but it might be fun to watch if they fall for the waxed deck.”
Luke Poplin
I wake up on the cold floor of an underground tunnel, a piece of firewood and a bloody grocery bag scattered around me. I rub my head then use the blood covered hand to swat away cogs floating around my head.
A janitor, slowly spreading floor wax at the tunnel entrance, turns its head slowly toward me as I approach.
“Catherine”, I gasp jumping back in consternation, gazing into cold zombie-like eyes.
Her head burns and swells like a flaming marshmallow. It swells and swells until…
I wake up in a cold sweat and run to the mirror.
Still Luke.
Chris
It started when my friend and I were at camp (in the woods), hanging out.
“Kalobe, I’m going down to the river, want to come?”
“No thanks Joe.” I said.
“Okay.” Walking down with some marshmallows, he turned the corner and
was out of sight. A moment later there was a ear splitting scream. I
ran to the creek. The ground was covered in marshmallows! As I
watched, they moved together growing bigger and combining. They
followed me as I ran. And, just in time, got inside the car.
Right now I wish I’d taken driving lessons.
Steven
“Consternation!” Grandpa yelled. “Colonel Mustard in the library with
the marshmallows!”
I smiled, cold in my army uniform. Grandpa’s fireplace couldn’t even
heat the room. He rose shakily, and I frowned. Richer than Midas,
but has no heater, won’t get his hip replaced, wouldn’t even pay for
Sue’s hospital bills…
I clamped that thought down.
His liver-spotted hand landed on my shoulder, then tapped where my
nametag read Ketchup. “It’s funny, you making colonel. Too bad Sue
didn’t get to see it.”
I just pushed him onto the freshly waxed floor. The sound of his hip
shattering sounded like vengeance.
David
I wanted to run, consternation filled my heart. Deadly marshmallows flew past my head. Missing their mark by inches. I regained my senses and did run like hell, as a volley from the firewood bazooka smashed against the wall where I stood, not a moment ago. My socks slipped as I tried to cross the freshly waxed floor. The cinders from the firewood blast lit our home aflame. Mobile homes are not flame retarded. In the midst of reloading, her booze soaked frock burst into a fiery inferno. In an instant she and our divorce proceedings went up in smoke.
Danny
Much to my consternation, some idiot (me) poured Floor Wax all over the Firewood. I was told it would get the fire to burn hotter. Now, after lighting the fire ablaze, we’re trying to Roast Marshmallows over the toxic flames. All of the toxic fumes from the floor wax are getting into the Marshmallows, giving them a toxic yet very tasty hint of wax in the soft center of the marshmallow. I bite into the gooey center, and much to my consternation, I fall absolutely in love with this pile of toxic gooey goodness. Now my doctor tells me I have cancer.
TJ
Some little girls are described as having an inner light. Not Susie.
Little Susie had more of an inner dark. When she overheard her
family’s hushed tones planning a trip to Yellowstone National Park,
she suspected with consternation they were planning to leave her in the
woods. Well the best defense, as they say, is a good offense. So she
merrily went along with it. And while her father was out gathering
firewood for their campfire, Little Susie carefully shaped and powdered
some floorwax into the form of marshmallows. Those deadly s’mores
were the last thing any of them tasted.
TerrazaByte
I came home early to create the perfect romantic evening for our first anniversary.
I cleaned the house, waxed the floors and prepared the finest of meals.
When she came home, she was so surprised and loved being pampered.
The grand finale was to be roasting marshmallows by the fire as we snuggled together.
As I came back in from getting the firewood and roasting skewers, I slipped on the freshly waxed floor…
fell over the couch…
hit her in the head with the firewood…
and stabbed the cat with the skewers.
Imagine my consternation as they both lay motionless.
Norval Joe
Mr. Parker was a veteran Boy Scout leader and thought he had seen it all, from lighting firewood with a blowtorch to blowing up the out house. “Johnny,” he asked with a sheepish smile of consternation. “What are you putting on your marshmallow?” “My Dad developed it,” he said. “It’s a mixture of edible polymers from floor wax and walnut shells. It will allow me to toast marshmallows without catching them on fire.” Pop rocks are candies that make small crackling sounds when it contacts saliva. It doesn’t compare to what happened when Johnny touched the marshmallow to his tongue.
Planet Z
To our consternation, Aunt Edith had applied a liberal amount of floor wax to the bucket of firewood in the living room
She wanted to make them shiny and look good.
So when It was time for dessert, Uncle Morty put marshmallows on the prongs and started up the fireplace.
The logs caught quickly, releasing a toxic cloud.
Deadly marshmallows, they were.
Aunt Edith. Judy. The twins.
If it weren’t for the fact I’m in an environment suit, I’d be dead with them.