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.

More Sultry, Spine-Chilling Whispers

  • by Kentthis time nobody smelled the crocodile
  • see where the bubbles form
  • one of the downsides would be the pooping
  • camping out on beanbag chairs
  • moving in slow, sensuous circles

Tune in next time part 870      Click Here for Earlier Installments

More sultry, spine-chilling whispers reached me. I’d been too wrapped up in ninja speculations to keep up, and thus missed some of Titania’s lurid monologue.

“… this time nobody smelled the crocodile, which was disappointing. I had to make do with a masturbator alligator and see where the bubbles formed … ”

My mind reeled. I knew about the party she was describing. The infamous “Clown-Car Hot-Tub Convergence” of Minneapolis. Her sibilant narration continued.

“… is the main upside, while of course one of the downsides would be the pooping …”

She had to be baiting me. I hadn’t been at the CCHTC, not really, but several Academy classmates crashed it, camping out on beanbag chairs around the tub and taking notes like crazy. It was generally visualized as frothing, particolored chaos, like a birthday cake tossed into a tank of voracious piranhas, but those who were there reported a far different vibe. There was indeed some colorful foam on that hot tub, but it was moving in slow, sensuous circles on gentle, though kinky, currents of lust.

What I heard next was the most confusing thing so far.

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Titania’s Whisper

  • by jenlike he’s the last jasmine blossom
  • double my electric bill
  • figure out my buttermilk situation
  • knife-wielding spider god
  • kneads them like dough

Tune in next time part 869      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Titania’s whisper traveled down the neck of the horse costume, allowing me to easily hear every word she said.

“BimBam acts like he’s the last jasmine blossom in the florist’s shop.”

My blood ran cold. The Last Jasmine Blossom was the allegedly mythical ninja I had written my Academy thesis about. I’d spent many sleepless nights studying in the library, burning the midnight oil so that I didn’t double my electric bill. I’d come to the terrifying conclusion that the Last Jasmine Blossom was no mere cryptid. He (or she!) was the most dangerous ninja in history. My thesis defense was well-attended by other Academy students and alumni. Surely Titania knew of my conclusions. Was she implying obliquely, in the way of clowns, that BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia and the Last Jasmine Blossom were one and the same? My mind boggled. I’d rather figure out my buttermilk situation with a knife-wielding spider god than deal with something like that, and everyone knows my feelings on buttermilk.

My mind does more than boggle. It takes two such intimidating ideas and kneads them like dough. It puts them in the proving drawer and runs away screaming.

I tried to look on the bright side. Maybe Titania had figured out I was in the back half of the horse costume and was merely trying to scare me.

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On The One Hand

  • by KentHer father’s field was dentistry; her mother’s was opera.
  • truly powerful hair
  • looked me straight in the eye and said, “No.”
  • but only on the Fourth of July
  • now available in ice cream form

Tune in next time part 868      Click Here for Earlier Installments

On the one hand, the number of conscious evil clowns in my immediate vicinity had just been halved, which was a good thing. But on the other hand, without BimBam to distract Titania it would no longer be possible to sneak away. Also, there was an increased chance of her discovering the deception with Big Dennis, even assuming Small Dennis didn’t lose his shit.

It was very difficult to predict what Titania would do next. Thanks to Tessa, I knew a bit about her life before becoming the Crystal Clown. Her father’s field was dentistry; her mother’s was opera. That placed her at the confluence of smiles and overwrought performance, which perhaps explained how she ended up in clowning. Another thing I recalled Tessa saying about her deadliest sister was that she aspired to have truly powerful hair, and when I asked if that was some kind of euphemism she looked me straight in the eye and said, “No.” Of course, I’d gotten up close and personal with Titania and thus learned a few things directly. For instance, she can recite all the countries of South America and their capitals, but only on the Fourth of July, and she was thrilled to find out that headaches are now available in ice cream form.

While I’d racked my brains for useful factoids, Titania had come over and was now whispering something into Small Dennis’s ear.

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For All his Complaints

  • by jenexcessive body hair
  • you’re wanted downstairs
  • wrote on me with a red marker
  • fearful of farts
  • if you want your nether regions touching germy public surfaces

Tune in next time part 867      Click Here for Earlier Installments

For all his complaints about the furriness of Big Dennis, I was somewhat surprised to see that BimBam sported what many would consider excessive body hair, all of it shockingly pink.

In the secret language of clowns, Titania murmured, “You’re wanted downstairs.” BimBam splayed his knees wide and, while making a slide-whistle sound, sank into a deep crouch. Titania giggled appreciatively. “Now,” she went on in a breathy squeak, “look closely at my left hip and see what the Dennises wrote on me with a red marker this morning while they were dressing me.”

I gulped. If Small Dennis was anywhere near as nervous as me, I was fearful of farts (or something even worse) filling up the horse suit. Again I tried to back us away from the horrifying clown nightmare.

BimBam leaned in very close to Titania’s hip and slowly read, “Continue reading this message only if you want your nether regions touching germy public surfaces such as the floor.” BimBam gave a honk of surprise as Titania gave a quick karate chop to both his shoulders and he toppled pantsless to the ground.

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I Caught a Glimpse of Titania and BimBam

Happy New Years! To welcome 2024, we’ll be combining forces for our writing prompt again this week. To make things seasonally appropriate, we pulled the prompt phrases from Dave Barry’s 2023 Year in Review. Just like last time, Jen goes first. We’ll alternate until Kent uses the final phrase, and the results will be beautiful to behold.

  • styling his hair with a defective Roomba
  • — we’ll call them Bill and Jane —
  • the situation is hopeless
  • with a heavy heart and an upset stomach
  • bored with balloons
  • narcissistic gasbags
  • like a cheap lawn chair at a sumo wrestler picnic
  • threat unlike any we have ever faced before
  • a sea urchin in his underdrawers
  • looks like he got kicked out of the James Bond Villain Academy for being too evil

Tune in next time part 865 & 866      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I caught a glimpse of Titania and BimBam through the gap between the front and back of the horse costume. In his passion, BimBam was so disheveled he looked like he’d taken to styling his hair with a defective Roomba. Of Titania I really could only see her feet — we’ll call them Bill and Jane — but that was enough to show me that she too was intensely committed to the moment.

I kept inching backwards, but Small Dennis resisted, making me think the situation is hopeless. What I’d seen of the clowns made me think I might be sick. It was with a heavy heart and an upset stomach that I ceased my attempted retreat lest the costume fall apart.

The grease-painted duo abruptly started making a noise that sounded like what happens when someone becomes bored with balloons just floating there on their strings, and starts rubbing them together. Or, in this case, when narcissistic gasbags rub against each other.

My back was getting tired from supporting Big Dennis. If I stood here much longer, I would probably collapse like a cheap lawn chair at a sumo wrestler picnic. But before that calamity could occur, Small Dennis and I became aware of a threat unlike any we have ever faced before. It was horrifying. BimBam started a striptease, but not the sultry striptease of a man with lust in his heart. This was the frenetic, flailing striptease of a clown with a sea urchin in his underdrawers. BimBam soon wore nothing but the scowl of a clown who looks like he got kicked out of the James Bond Villain Academy for being too evil.

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BimBam Tickles

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Boxing Day!

This year we’re continuing our tradition of marking the major December holiday with a tag-team writing prompt, using snippets drawn from a seasonally appropriate source. This year’s festive trove comes from the Wikipedia page about Krampus, everyone’s favorite child-eating Christmas monster. As per usual with these unusual events, Jen will start us off. Once she’s incorporated the first ingredient, she’ll turn over control of the keyboard to Kent, and so on until all ten(!) elements have been wrapped up.

  • gifts such as oranges
  • He is hairy
  • His long, pointed tongue
  • thrashes the chains for dramatic effect
  • wearing animal furs
  • It is customary to offer schnapps
  • (mostly with broken bones)
  • pursuing buxom women
  • one winter occasion
  • sometimes accompanied with bells

Tune in next time part 863 & 864      Click Here for Earlier Installments

BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia, was still in a philosophical mood. I heard him ask Titania, “Do you find it more amusing or cruel that we are stealing bananas for all the young clownlings at the compound, when gifts such as oranges are much easier for their small hands to juggle?”

“Things worth doing are never easy,” the Crystal Clown replied. I could hear the weariness in her voice. “I can’t believe it’s taking you this long to get him ready. He is hairy, but you must have learned how to deal with that long ago.”

“I’m having a spot of trouble with the smile. His long, pointed tongue is hanging out and keeps getting in the way.”

Oh crap, I thought. That would reveal to Titania that it wasn’t me!

“Oh,” she said. “Hmm. I do recall there being something weird about his tongue, now that you mention it…” She trailed off wistfully. “It’s not quite as exhilarating as when I have a man helpless and he thrashes the chains for dramatic effect, but it’s a nice kind of weird I can assure you.”

There followed more sounds of greasepaint being slathered on skin. “This guy is really, really hairy. It’s like he’s wearing animal furs under all these clothes!”

“Oh, that I remember clearly.”

Titania sounded a little disgusted, but I focused on the amazing luck I’d had in subduing someone who could actually pass for me. At least until BimBam’s intrusive clownification ministrations woke him up. It is customary to offer schnapps to people found lurking in one’s basement, at least in Svenborgia. I had no idea what beverage would be paired with such a discovery made in one’s horse costume.

BimBam stifled a giggle and said, “I’m nearly done, and if I do say so myself, he looks exactly like the sort of unconscious clown who would be part of your entourage.”

Titania did not appreciate his tone. She swore at him in the language of clowns (which I understand just enough of), and threatened him terrifyingly with many sorts of bodily harm (mostly with broken bones).

She calmed down enough to sum it all up. “He looks demented, yes, and one could picture him pursuing buxom women. But apart from that he falls well short of my standards!”

“I recall,” BimBam said in a clown’s squeaky approximation of a sultry voice, “one winter occasion when your standards were, perhaps, not so high. I recall it quite fondly.”

They cooed and grunted more sweet nothings, leading to a moment when I was terrified that BimBam would join Titania in the saddle. Fortunately, she dismounted instead. I wasn’t able to see what ensued, but I could hear plenty of clownishly sexy noises (sometimes accompanied with bells). I began a slow retreat, trying to coax Small Dennis along with me.

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“Hurry It Up”

  • by Kent“Is this *really* what I want to be famous for on the internet?”
  • returned my salute
  • a language that literally no one
  • Does he? Who knows
  • aspiring avant garde DJ

Tune in next time part 862      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Hurry it up,” Titania growled. “That trove of bananas will be no good after tomorrow.”

“It has to look convincing,” BimBam grumbled in reply. Then, “Huh. That’s odd.”

Please don’t be the ears. Please please don’t be the ears. Please please please don’t be the ears!

“Here, use this,” Titania declared, yanking the tail off the horse costume. “Cover his head with a bushy wig, and no one will notice if the face is a little amateurish.”

“Hey! I am in fact a professional,” BimBam protested. “I got my start with a video channel where I dissected fan theories about Lost while I transformed myself from one kind of clown to another. But one day I had to ask myself that question.”

For several seconds there was no sound other than that of greasepaint being slathered on Big Dennis’s face. The hole where the horse’s tail used to be let in a welcome draft of fresh air.

“What question?” Titania asked wearily.

“Is this really what I want to be famous for on the internet?”

“You’ll be famous for making a disgusting crater underneath this airship if you delay me further!” the Crystal Clown roared. “I thought you Svenborgians were sticklers for protocol, yet you still haven’t returned my salute!”

“Bah. Protocol means nothing. Knock-knock jokes have protocol. I’m a rebel, striking terror in a language that literally no one can comprehend: the language of clowns! I sometimes wonder if you are truly a clown yourself.”

“Leave the philosophy to the university clowns, BimBam. Perhaps the unconscious man you’re tending to feels his inner clown awakening now, as his true face comes into being. Does he? Who knows. And who cares! We need those bananas.”

From what I recalled about Big Dennis, I thought it more probable that his new getup would trigger his inner aspiring avant garde DJ to wake up. I just hoped that he wouldn’t literally wake up anytime soon.

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Such Close Proximity

  • by jenEmbroider otters on all
  • sucking gleefully our respective oranges
  • slowly and most wickedly
  • (please ignore the ears)
  • who am I to dispute the research of the National Confectioners Association?

Tune in next time part 861      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Such close proximity to Small Dennis’s sweaty naked butt made my eyes water. Back at the Academy, he’d joined my twin brother Jason in founding an experimental boy band. They’d been inexplicably popular, and soon one would hear Embroider Otters on all the school’s pirate radio stations. There was a choreographed dance for their biggest hit “We Be Sucking Gleefully Our Respective Orangesicles” in which they moved their limbs slowly and most wickedly, and I shuddered to imagine what it would be like if Small Dennis did that very dance here, right now, inside our shared horse costume.

I tried to bring my thoughts back to the idea of exploiting the clowns’ fear of lumberjacks to gain the upper hand, escape my predicament, and foil their nefarious banana-thieving plans.

Titania chuckled evilly and said, “The easiest way to get him off the airship is to paint him like a clown.”

“I’ll get right on it,” BimBam said.

I relaxed a little. If BimBam was the one to apply clown makeup to Big Dennis, that would delay the discovery that he was not me. That is, as long as he didn’t try to apply any makeup to Big Dennis’s ears (please ignore the ears). My ears are quite distinctively small (please please ignore the ears) and the difference would surely give away my ruse (please please please ignore the ears). Tessa once told me about a study she’d seen that claimed most people’s ears are larger than Peanut Butter Cups. That sounds unlikely to me, but who am I to dispute the research of the National Confectioners Association? (In any case, please please please ignore Big Dennis’s ears!)

I held my breath and listened to the squealchy sounds of an evil clown applying greasepaint to an unconscious man’s face. Would BimBam ignore the ears?

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The Atmosphere Inside the Horse Costume

  • by Kentusing our peripheral vision
  • little aliens in my earwax
  • rampant lumber-jack-o-phobia
  • green motorcycle goggles covered his eyes
  • given to mild theatrics

Tune in next time part 860      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The atmosphere inside the horse costume was becoming tense and swampy, as both Small Dennis and myself stood in the presence of clowns both Crystal and Iron and absorbed the diabolical vibrations of their laughter. I knew Small Dennis was about to crack, but owing to the constraints of the costume we could only communicate by using our peripheral vision. I gave up trying to calm him and concentrated on my own dilemmas. Time was running out before the ruse with Big Dennis would be discovered, and it was hard to concentrate when every utterance from BimBam or Titania seemed to awaken little aliens in my earwax.

Suddenly, BimBam declared, “But that’s where they do all the logging!” And I dared a small smile, because I realized that the airship’s course would create an opportunity to use the rampant lumber-jack-o-phobia among clowns to my advantage. I even risked a peek through the seam between the front and back halves of the horse, and there beyond Titania’s shapely shin I beheld the notorious BimBam Tickles, the Iron Clown of Svenborgia. His flaking greasepaint had all the ochre hues of a corroded shipping container, and his hair stood in a venomous pink mohawk. Black fangs protruded from his leering lips and green motorcycle goggles covered his eyes.

The urgency of Small Dennis’s plight fully registered then. He’d been subjected to this visage all along, through the horse suit’s eyeholes. Based on the fact that he worked pantsless, I had to assume that he was given to mild theatrics even under normal conditions.

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The Iron Clown’s Laughter

  • by jenmy teeth start tingling
  • Whenever I eat grapes near her
  • skyrocketing banana demand
  • Blink once if
  • wrote “I love you” in his own blood

Tune in next time part 859      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Iron Clown’s laughter reverberated through me and made my teeth start tingling. I clamped my jaw tightly shut to make it stop, but it did little good. The tingle intensified. (Whenever I eat grapes near her, my wife gets incredibly horny, something she also describes as an intensifying tingle. I can only assume the two sensations are not actually very similar.)

Titania said, “Once we empty this airship’s larders, our faction’s skyrocketing banana demands will be met at last. Blink once if you’re as excited as I am.”

Whether BimBam blinked or wrote “I love you” in his own blood, I could not tell because my head was still swaddled in the horse costume, but Titania seemed pleased.

“Without their favorite yellow snack, all the children aboard will be quite upset,” BimBam said with smug glee.

“All of them but mine,” Titania agreed. “I’ll bring mine along to our banana-filled paradise, their father as well.” I felt her pat Big Dennis’s butt. “I have further plans for him.”

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