1. A banana peel
2. Three bowls of
soup
3. A French terrier
The restaurant was
fancy, no doubt about that, what other type would have gold leaf wallpaper? But
something told Jams he couldn’t trust the waiter. If you asked why, the
simplest answer would be that he had fur. But, so did Jams.
He scowled fitfully, crumpling his
napkin and tossing it aside. It bopped another passing waiter on the crown and
he sprawled to the immaculate carpet, soiling it with the three bowls of soup
he carried, and several extracurricular swearwords. Ignoring the commotion, Jams
looked at the furred waiter making his way towards his table, a smarmy smile on
his thin muzzle.
He was a French terrier, Jams
speculated, probably from good stock, but nothing about breeding could commandeer
his dislike of the furry dandy. He, a retriever, of course was slightly
prejudice, but still...
“Bonjour again, mon ami misour!”
Said the terrier in a French accent so fake it was probably real. “I was
anxious to get back to yoo,” he continued. He got no further, with a cry, he
slipped on the banana peel, someone
must have placed on the carpet a meter from the table.
Jams grinned, as
well as a dog could, and stood up, loping past the flailing garcon and out the
door. What a strange world, he thought. A banana peel, who would have thought
it?
1. The zombie Apocalypse
2. Speedy Gonzales
3. A blue car
The zombie
apocalypse had come. It was happening right here, right now. Dan Mitchells was
one of the first to know.
He was sitting in his baby blue
muscle car, listening to the radio. The commentator was spouting nonsense about
cotton candy eating contests and how global warming had severely affected the
production of cartoons. Dan didn’t honestly care; he was watching, waiting for
his friend Ryan.
“Ugh, what are you doing, Ryan?” Dan
grumbled, shifting in his seat. The sun was baking the inside of the car
through the dark tinted windows. He would have to turn the car back on for some
air conditioning soon if Ryan didn’t hurry up and get out of the house. Dan
heard sirens switch on in the distance, getting louder and closer until a
police car sped by his vehicle like Speedy Gonzales. What was happening?
A random person walked out into the
street, shuffling like a cripple. The police car didn’t even hesitate, just ran
them right over. What in the world? Dan almost screamed in horror. He turned on
the car and drove forward to investigate.
The body was Ryan! Dan screamed in
terror as his friend got back up again and crawled onto the hood of the car, slamming
against the windshield. Ryan was a zombie! Dan got out his phone, took a
quick picture, texted it to his 83 closest friends, and put the car into
reverse, shaking off his former friend in the process. Time to get out of town.
1. A ship in a bottle
2. A mango smoothie
3. A balcony
As bottles went,
ones with ships shoe horned inside them didn’t break as well against a head as
a good old fashioned Jack Daniels.
But Petro wasn’t complaining. He was
cursing sure, as he and the brawler grappled their way onto the balcony, his
opponent slightly dazed from the bottles impact, and with a tiara of glass
shards spiking up from his hair.
Stepping back
slightly into the balcony’s lavish apartment room, Petros exploded back at his
still swaying opponent and shoved him over the balcony railing, falling a short
distance and then impacting with a tremendous splash into the small hotel-side
pool.
Dusting his hands,
Petro walked back into his apartment, choosing a chilled mango smoothie from
the refrigerator. That would teach the man to advertize at his door.
1. A diamond sword
2. A robot
3. Saint Patrick’s
Day
The crowds cheered,
waving their hands in the air and screaming out like madmen. They were a sea of
green, all dressed in St. Patrick’s Day tees and staring down at the small
arena in the middle of the stadium, where the two combatants prepared for
battle. Stevie “St. Patrick” McKnuckles swished his diamond sword through the
air as the boys pulled the wreckage of the last battle down the garbage chute.
That was four wins in a row from Stevie and his hard diamond weapon.
After what seemed like an eternity
of noise, the referee announced it was go time. “Ready?” the announcer roared
over the speakers. Stevie raised his sword high in the air and shook it,
letting loose a glorious battle cry.
At the other side of the arena, the
floor opened up and a humanoid robotic foe rose up: his challenger. Stevie
grinned and slashed his sword through the air. As soon as he heard the ref’s
whistle blow, he charged the artificially intelligent combatant with full
vigor. He sliced his sword through sputtering sockets, cleaving off the robot’s
left arm in a single blow. The bot, however, did not take kindly to such
wreckage, and flung itself bodily at its competitor. Stevie ducked and rolled
out of the way, jumping onto the technological creation’s backside. He hacked
off the bot’s head in a clean stroke and raised his sword high, plunging it
deep into the circuitry of its main body.
The crowd went wild as Stevie pulled
out his blade and kicked the trashed hunk of metal across the arena floor in a
gesture of ultimate triumph. St. Patrick victorious!
Stevie abruptly woke from his
fantastic dream. It was 6:30 in the morning. He rolled over and slapped the
snooze button on his alarm clock.
1. A train
2. Babies
3. A disgruntled
office worker
‘You must rescue the
babies’ they said. Well alright, I do rescue ops, but did they say
anything about the train? Oh no, speeding locomotives packed with armed
gorillas wearing clothes was much too trivial to mention.
“One less to worry about”, grunted
Tom Barker, flinging open the train door and tripping the wailing thug through
it in a blur of motion. Grabbing the man’s gun, Tom stepped to the next door.
Locked.
“When will they learn,” Tom said,
unable to resist as he peppered the wooden entrance with a burst of bullets.
Giving the doorway a solid kick, Tom stepped through into a padded room, full
of cribs where sleeping babies gurgled and snored in their adolescent dreams.
Turning slightly to assess the rest
of the room, Tom felt a massive weight wing his left side, sending him spinning
to the train car’s softened floor. Rolling to the side and up, Tom barker was
back on his feet, gun raised, side aching, mouth cursing.
In the doorway stood a short fat
man. Tom recognized him. He was the office worker for the orphanage principal
who had hired Tom, a very disgruntled office worker. Evidently he had tried to
flip the broken door onto Tom’s back. “Didn’t work”, chided Tom, watching as
the office employee strode angrily over the wrecked door. “Now wait a minute,
we can come to an agreement,” said Tom, shooting the office jughead five times.
There we are, Tom finished in his head. Job well done.
1. A fat dwarf
2. A gold ring
3. A Mount Olympus
toilet
Clyde was feeling
generous today as he sat behind the counter at the lobby, checking insurance
claims and other such paperwork. He’d had a good day so far. His girlfriend,
Bonnie Sweetkins, had just proposed to him yesterday.
Now, as he worked in the Mount
Olympus lobby, his pudgy fingers flying over the keyboard as he sent an
abrasive email to a bad customer, he felt the utmost glee. Because on one of
said pudgy fingers was the dwarf’s very own gold engagement ring. Oh, mom and dad are going to be so excited
when they find out! Clyde thought. Ah, wedded bliss with Bonnie Sweetkins!
Clyde felt the urge creep up on him
slowly as he sat working quickly and efficiently. He needed to go to the
bathroom. Clyde pushed back in his wide chair and stood up. His wide girth
toddled to the restroom, where Zeus’ latest selfie hung on the wall. The great
snowy beard stared down upon him as he did what he came to do.
As Clyde turned to wash his hands,
however, the ring, almost as if it had a mind of its own, slipped off his
finger and tumbled down into the toilet water.
Auto-flush kicked in almost
immediately.
1. A strange fish
2. An engraved skull
3. Three bottles of
apple juice
He was a strange
fish, Throckmorton knew, but the shopkeeper certainly knew how to draw customers.
The dingy shop cases presented
strange objects from seemingly everywhere. An engraved skull from Africa for
instance, and a miniature totem pole from ancient America. But Throckmorton was
looking for something special. Magic objects usually were.
Two
stepping around a fat case of Parisian baubles, he made his way up to the
counter. The squinty proprietor squinted harder. “Can I ‘elp you” he grunted,
his morning breath nearly flattening Throckmorton.
“Yes,” Throckmorton coughed, the
smell of coffee de sardine still wafting around him. “I am looking for three
bottles of apple juice.” The shopkeeper closed his mouth sharply at the code
word. Then he nodded and motioned Throckmorton after him, into the back of the
shop.
Stepping through the dusty curtain,
Throckmorton watched the shriveled shopkeeper rummage in a cupboard, elbows
cracking like medieval cannons as he reached farther in, grabbed something, and
turned to Throckmorton, holding three grimy bottles of ginger liquid, stamped
with a tiny brand tag each.
“Apple juice?” Throckmorton snorted
in indignation. “I was supposed to get a Jinni’s bottle!” The shopkeeper nodded
creakily, proffering the bottled beverages. “They are, Mr. client, but you have to drink them first.”
