Category: Writing Prompts

Prompts are short, fun exercises that can be used to get the creative juices flowing or break the ice at a critique meeting. They start as a brief list of ingredients, forming a challenge for the writer to incorporate all of them into one self-contained piece. There are many ways to come up with prompts and each author will find a unique way to express a given prompt.

As the Last Notes of the Regis St Oink Oink Theme Song Died Away

  • by jenthe “wheezing and clapping” kind
  • you buoyant balloon of happiness
  • lashing us to our seats for well over two hours
  • lively, voluptuous brunette
  • casinos in the middle of the Andes

Tune in next time part 829      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As the last notes of the Regis St Oink Oink theme song died away, Fleur bowed. The audience, knowing what was expected in the presence of the Warlord’s daughter, cheered and applauded. We were all so exhausted by now that it was more the “wheezing and clapping” kind of ovation than the “shouting and fist pumping” kind, but Fleur didn’t seem to care. With a smile on her face she adjusted the microphone stand as low as it would go and then said to our son the Duke, “It’s your turn, you buoyant balloon of happiness. Make Mommy proud.”

I was regretting my decision to give each child the spotlight, and I wasn’t the only one. While my son caterwauled into the microphone, Jim leaned over and whispered, “This is worse than Father lashing us to our seats for well over two hours that time so we wouldn’t interfere with his date with the lively, voluptuous brunette. Remember?”

I nodded sadly. Of course I remembered. Mother had been away, gambling at her favorite casinos in the middle of the Andes, and she’d left Father in charge. I wanted my children to have better childhoods than I and my siblings had. Would that be more likely to happen if I were an active parent, or if I stayed the hell away?

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It Was Borderline Seditious

  • by Kentwatched my brothers fly kites
  • houseboat puttering toward international waters
  • risking frostbite
  • you know that’s not allowed
  • odor resistant

Tune in next time part 828      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It was borderline seditious for a Contrarian Warlord’s daughter to lead a sing-along of a Harmonious song, so Fleur must have felt quite sure of the loyalties of all aboard her airship. Direct translation of the lyrics would be borderline impossible, let alone one retaining the rhyme scheme and meter, but in the case of the theme song from a cartoon an approximation should suffice.

(singing:)

As a piglet, I watched my brothers fly kites in the salty breezes
from the deck of a houseboat puttering toward international waters.
My brothers’ kites flew over the icebergs, my snout risking frostbite so I could watch.
Mother scolded me, “You’re spying, and you know that’s not allowed.”
But I loved to spy, and it is allowed if you become a detective.
I never had a kite to fly, only jars of molasses which are my means of solving crimes.
I miss my brothers on their houseboat, but now I live somewhere more odor resistant.

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Outlandish Though They Were

  • by jenfor four hot, grueling days
  • as a last resort he sat on her
  • the same ratty t-shirt he’s worn all week
  • “Sing it with me!”
  • with the pretentious subtitle

Tune in next time part 827      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Outlandish though they were, the little girl’s shoes were not the whole act. The mother wheeled a miniature synthesizer in front of the child, and she began to play. Her song stretched on and on, for four hot, grueling days, or so it seemed. The other babies grew restless, most especially my son with Fleur. He toddled onto the stage and tried to pull the keyboard away. When that failed he attempted to wrest his half-sister’s chubby hands from the keys. And as a last resort he sat on her. The crowd applauded weakly.

Fleur strode onto the stage and bowed, then waved vaguely at our son. “Please overlook that the Duke is still wearing the same ratty t-shirt he’s worn all week. Regis St Oink Oink is his favorite show, and he refuses to wear anything but his beloved Regis shirt.” The other mothers all nodded knowingly.

My son the Duke stood up and said, “Sing!”

Fleur smiled dotingly. “The Duke would like us all to sing the Regis St Oink Oink theme song.” She pulled a pitch pipe from her pocket and blew a note. “Sing it with me!” she shouted at the audience.

And to my amazement, the entire crowd burst into song, singing the ridiculous ode to the Transylvania Homicide Detective with the pretentious subtitle. It went a little something like this.

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Only A Few People

  • by KentThey are afraid of me.
  • unusual, suggestive colors
  • baby, I’m your man
  • conceived by the devil himself
  • wearing a pair of “shoes” so befuddling

Tune in next time part 826      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Only a few people have ever tried to get between me and a candy bar, and none of them will make that mistake again. They are afraid of me. They should be.

Inside the first wrapper was a slab of chocolate that swirled with unusual, suggestive colors and released unusual, suggestive aromas. It was a candy bar that said, “hey hey baby, I’m your man.” I wrapped it back up and ate the other, boring ones instead. This was a candy bar to hold onto until I could take my time with it.

The naptime intermission came to a close as one of the mommies strode out to introduce the next act. “All you need to know about this contestant is that she was conceived by the devil himself.” That stung a little.

While I was still trying to remember the woman’s name, the baby took the stage wearing a pair of “shoes” so befuddling that I wondered if they might be her whole act.

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The Infants Tired Themselves Out Laughing

  • by jenthoughtfully curated selection
  • attempting to reenter the United States
  • celebrities promoting the toad medicine
  • referred to it as “defensive cooking”
  • provides the optimal angle for all kinds of

Tune in next time part 825      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infants tired themselves out laughing, so Talent Show Part 2 had a lengthy intermission for nap time. I perused the thoughtfully curated selection of international candy bars at the refreshment stand, some of which I hadn’t tasted since my chocolate smuggling friend got picked up attempting to reenter the United States after being deported. It wasn’t even his blackmarket sweets that got him in trouble, but rather a snake oil scheme he’d promoted years earlier. Instead of snakes he got his juice from toads, and he even had celebrities promoting the toad medicine, which is what drew all the attention. The health department raided the lab where he did what they referred to as “mad science,” while he referred to it as “defensive cooking” because he was often high on his own supply. His slogan was “Toad Butter provides the optimal angle for all kinds of fun!”, which was a terrible slogan, in my opinion.

I excitedly chose a half-dozen candy bars from countries I’d never even heard of and unwrapped the first one with a smile on my face.

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My Proposal Swiftly Became Law

  • by Kentvelvet patchwork coat
  • almost glowing with serenity
  • “Seems kind of hinky to me.”
  • love when a sound repeats
  • diplomats of any rank

Tune in next time part 824      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My proposal swiftly became law in this tiny kingdom, and it wasn’t long before I regretted it. The contestants would be getting their driver’s licenses by the time everyone had their chance to perform.

Time became soft and blurry with abrupt unexpected seams, much like the velvet patchwork coat worn by the baby who did the interpretive dance to Pagliacci. I dozed during the next one, a kind of modernist Morris dance by a cherub who was almost glowing with serenity. I thought I covered well, rousing myself to applaud politely, but the babe’s mother shot me a look that said, “Seems kind of hinky to me.”

It happened that there was a bit of an echo in the auditorium, which led to an awkward state of affairs. Something everyone knows about babies is how much they love when a sound repeats. An audience member sneezed, which echoed, which made several of the infants laugh, and their laughter echoed, which made more of them laugh, and so on. The chamber filled with a cacophony of mirth that could not be quelled by any number of consternated mommies or by diplomats of any rank, which only further delayed the conclusion of the entire business.

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The Infant Talent Show

  • by jengracefully choreographed free-for-all
  • new and pink and chubby
  • presented with a trashcan lid-sized plate of steamed broccoli
  • For years, I’ve gotten drunk and told the story
  • and gloves without fingers

Tune in next time part 823      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The infant talent show turned out to be a gracefully choreographed free-for-all. First place went to the choreographer, a baby girl all new and pink and chubby. She and her mother, Isolde, were presented with a trashcan lid-sized plate of steamed broccoli and a teeny tiny tiara. There was a lot of grumbling amongst the mothers over the fact that Isolde’s baby won, since the talent show was her idea in the first place, but Isolde claimed that it couldn’t possibly have been rigged due to the sheer number of babies she had and how she couldn’t possibly choose a favorite among them.

For years, I’ve gotten drunk and told the story of my own childhood in a family full of twins and triplets, and how the only way I could find to distinguish myself from Jason was to wear a vest and gloves without fingers while he wore sleeves with no shirt and little socks on his fingers. All this squabbling reminded me of that, and I felt sorry for all the also-rans. Every child needs a time to shine.

“Instead of one big dance number,” I said, “let’s let each baby perform solo!”

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“Seems Like It,” I Sighed

  • by Kenthe had a great mustache, come on!
  • down in the pelvic region
  • none of the government’s business
  • just lucky they hadn’t markered a mustache on her
  • poodles, frosting, something that looks like

Tune in next time part 822      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Seems like it,” I sighed. “They all know that I’m aboard, so my absence would be a scandal.”

“The babies?” Jim asked.

“The mamas,” Tessa said sulkily.

“Why are you so possessive all the sudden?” I asked her. “I’ve never complained about any of your boyfriends, not even Siegfried.”

“There was nothing wrong with Siegfried! He could dance and he had a great mustache, come on!”

From what I had heard, the problem was that there was altogether too much right with Siegfried down in the pelvic region. The mustache was also pretty epic. There were rumors that he took hormone supplements to enhance it, but all he’d ever say when asked was that it was none of the government’s business which parts of the ibex he chose to extract and concentrate and add to his coffee. Tessa perhaps thought I didn’t know about the time she and Siegfried passed out together and the lacrosse team found them. She was just lucky they hadn’t markered a mustache on her boob. But it was all water under the bridge, which was my whole point.

A man scurried past us, hunched over a clipboard, muttering. “Where am I going to find seven poodles, frosting, something that looks like ‘odd-numbered flavors,’ and a robot so lifelike that even it can’t be sure.”

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“Dammit,” Jim Said Around a Mouthful of Churro

  • by jenfrom the cloaca of a quartz tortoise
  • have to find a back-up baby tuxedo
  • Cobwebby.
  • despite the ketchup and clam juice
  • use it in a rap song

Tune in next time part 821      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Dammit,” Jim said around a mouthful of churro. “I had a lot of money riding on that polo match. With it cancelled, where I am I gonna get my big score?”

“From the cloaca of a quartz tortoise, of course,” I said, referencing the secret compartment where my father used to hide his cash. Jim chuckled.

Isolde’s voice came through the loudspeaker next. It sounded like she’d just wrestled the microphone away from Fleur. “In place of the polo match we will be holding an infant talent show in the auditorium. Anyone who wants to compete will have to find a back-up baby tuxedo and a baby to go in it.” Something about Isolde’s voice sounded dusty. Cobwebby.

“Is she high?” I asked no one in particular.

“I assume you’ll want to attend this talent show,” said Jim. “Since all the babies on board are yours.” He stepped up to the churro stand in search of dipping sauce, and despite the ketchup and clam juice being clearly labeled, dunked his churro in both.

I stared in horror. If Jason were here he’d find a way to describe how disgusting it was and use it in a rap song. In his absence I merely gagged.

“Well?” Jim asked. “Are we going to this talent show? I’ll call my bookie.”

“Yes,” Tessa said, ice in her voice. “Tell, me, are we going to go sit in a room full of your baby-mamas?”

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“Attention Passengers”

  • by KentThat poor alpaca got gussied up for nothing
  • meant to be a group experience
  • imagine my surprise to receive this photograph of my mother
  • no snowshoes, no compass
  • sold the rights to the motion pictures

Tune in next time part 820      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Attention passengers,” said my wife’s voice, in which I picked up an edge of irritation. “I have an important message about the polo tournament: it’s cancelled. So if you planned to enter, you should go tell your steed about the change in plans. That poor alpaca got gussied up for nothing. Polo, of course, is meant to be a group experience. Unlike certain other things, so imagine my surprise to receive this photograph of my mother and nineteen other people wearing… well, let’s just say they had no snowshoes, no compass, and no shame. And until I find out who leaked this image, and doubtless sold the rights to the motion pictures, this airship’s polo field is off-limits!”

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