Category: Stichomancy Prompts

Professor Turkovsky Called His Apprentice

  • by jengreat white eyebrows
  • his long slender hand around his neck
  • grasshopper war cry
  • I will be old, ugly, stupid
  • a fantastic contraption
  • Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?

Professor Turkovsky called his apprentice, James, into his study. James stood before the professor, lanky and youthful and handsome, his long slender hand around his neck, scratching a bug bite.

“James, tell me, what is the secret of youthful beauty?” asked Professor Turkovsky. “Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?”

James nodded, uncertain.

“But those all require hard work, skill, and money!”

James shrugged.

“I have invented a fantastic contraption!” the professor chirped in a voice not unlike a grasshopper war cry. “It is like the fountain of youth! It will make me young again!”

“But what if it fails, Professor?” asked James in alarm.

“If it fails, I will be old, ugly, stupid.”

Before James could protest further, Professor Turkovsky flipped the power switch and grasped the handles. A smell of sickly sweet cotton candy filled the study as tendrils of yellow and orange electricity crawled over Turkovsky’s body.

James shook his head in dismay as he saw the great white eyebrows form on the professor’s face.

The experiment had failed.

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My Husband’s Name is Paris

  • k-avatara strange man opened that door
  • the worst a beautiful woman could do
  • strip poker with a man-eating tiger
  • my husband’s name is Paris
  • reporting a raccoon
  • “Cold potato soup!”

My husband’s name is Paris, which isn’t the worst a beautiful woman could do. I once dated a fellow named Albuquerque, and even that’s not as bad as strip poker with a man-eating tiger.

But this has nothing to do with Paris, or Albuquerque.

My apartment has a door I never use. Once a strange man opened that door and leaned into my apartment, reporting a raccoon was raiding the dumpster. So now I never use that door.

And yesterday, a little child trapped in my sock drawer kept yelling the same thing all day. “Cold potato soup!”

I think I should move.

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During the Later Stages of the Elbows Installation

  • by jenat the bottom of the sea
  • Every skin-diver and shrimp fisherman
  • no sound disturbed his semiconsciousness
  • later stages of the Elbows installation
  • the speed of a middle-aged jogger
  • you won’t be sorry

During the later stages of the Elbows installation, Hieronymus Warhol’s drug addictions overtook him with the speed of a middle-aged jogger training for her first marathon in poorly fitted shoes, and he would often slip into a trance-like state while on the job-site.

Every skin-diver and shrimp fisherman from the nearby wharf was called upon to shout salty profanities, and fling rocks and shells found at the bottom of the sea in an attempt to rouse the great artist and compel him to complete his pipe-cleaner masterpiece, but no sound disturbed his semiconsciousness.

When eventually he came back to consensus reality of his own volition, he looked at the curator with bleary eyes and croaked, “You won’t be sorry.”

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You’re The Most Evil Person, Ever

  • k-avatarunless she herself was at the fairgrounds
  • no matter what innocent life is ruined
  • A mouse. A dead mouse.
  • next is Jack the Ripper
  • dear Jimmy, Ariel, Bebe, Mary, John, Philip, Amy, Myrtle, Vincent, Oscar, Vera, Peggy
  • Oh, piffle!

“You’re the most evil person, ever. Next is Jack the Ripper. You pursue your own pleasure, no matter what innocent life is ruined.”

All I could say was, “Oh, piffle!” Which didn’t really accomplish anything. But I knew what her comment was about. A mouse. A dead mouse. Named Reginald, it had gone to be with dear Jimmy, Ariel, Bebe, Mary, John, Philip, Amy, Myrtle, Vincent, Oscar, Vera, Peggy, and Margarita.

I wanted to play skee-ball and ride the tilt-a-whirl, I wanted to win a goldfish. But no one was allowed to be having fun, unless she herself was, at the fairgrounds.

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The Cattle, Too, Were Gone

  • by jenwrapped their heirloom weapons
  • fought in the Trojan War, but not very well
  • “Are you saying I’ve grown fat?”
  • The cattle, too, were gone
  • She was warmer on the horse’s back
  • her lack of enthusiasm

“The cattle, too, were gone by the time I mended the hole in the fence,” Bridget said, and I noted her lack of enthusiasm.

“Are you saying I’ve grown fat?” I asked, trying to lighten her mood with a little joke.

She smiled. “You’re fit as ever, darling.” Then she shivered like a warrior who fought in the Trojan War, but not very well. She was warmer on the horse’s back than she was now, dismounted and standing in the snow without the equine’s heat to warm her.

I quickly shed my anorak and wrapped her in it as master fencers wrapped their heirloom weapons between matches. She meant more to me than their antique epees did to them, and I willingly sacrificed my own comfort for hers.

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Were He a Commoner

  • k-avatara bonny lord and a merry one
  • under the eyes
  • grinned involuntarily with appreciation
  • blue-gray eyes suddenly keen
  • would have been described as stocky

Were he a commoner, Smedley would have been described as stocky. But he was a bonny lord and a merry one, often at the same time, and so he was accounted robust of stature.

Smedley’s position at court afforded many luxuries. His special favorite was dancers, one in particular with many jingling bells and cymbals and tattoos under the eyes. When she swayed and twirled before him, Smedley grinned involuntarily with appreciation for her grace and flexibility, which a, shall we say, stocky personage might view in more frankly vulgar terms.

One gusty winter night a new dancer appeared before Smedley. He sat forward in his chair, blue-gray eyes suddenly keen. The newcomer’s feet were just as nimble, howsoever they might be clad in perplexing low boots that set up a clattering like hailstones with her every step. The cane and the straw hat confused Smedley most of all.

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Playing the Part of the Innocent Venutian Princess

  • by jenunbuttoning his Space Ranger pajamas
  • nearly vomited in terror
  • the tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer
  • stuck in his eyebrows
  • and the telephone itself
  • dogs of all sizes and descriptions

Playing the part of the innocent Venutian princess who nearly vomited in terror at her first sight of an Earth astronaut, only to find herself strangely aroused by the alien intruder, Ibernia Patience reached out to her husband Frank Pax, unbuttoning his Space Ranger pajamas.

Venutian folk music warbled in the background. The tune was Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, but the lyrics were incomprehensible. Ibernia drew the now-naked Frank down onto a large pile of stuffed dogs of all sizes and descriptions. She brushed away a stray bit of fluff that was stuck in his eyebrows as he bent down to kiss her.

Just then the phone rang and Ibernia cursed both the thoughtless caller and the telephone itself for interrupting her play time.

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“Now You May Feel a Momentary Discomfort”

  • k-avatarjust a nip
  • a Swedish gynecologist
  • such as Mr T
  • we watched professional bowling
  • This angered Bruno

“Now you may feel a momentary discomfort, just a nip.”

Sue nodded, wondering how a dental procedure came to be invented by a Swedish gynecologist. Also wondering why her dentist had a mohawk. The hair would look normal on some outrageous celebrity, such as Mr T. On a dentist it looked like he couldn’t possibly be a real dentist.

I have got to get better insurance, Sue thought. Then she winced, but only for a moment.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

She nodded again, then shook her head, then tried to smile apologetically and that really hurt because of the way her lips were stretched out of the way.

“It’s okay, I understand,” her dentist assured her hastily. “I haven’t seen such a confused sequence of emotions since we watched professional bowling with my uncle, and my cousin Bruno rolled seven consecutive strikes but lost the match.” He sighed. “This angered Bruno so badly that he bit through a pin. Which is how I got into dentistry.”

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Gertrude Lifted Up the Lid of the Coffin

  • by jencarried them off on a ship to Denmark
  • escape from one calamity
  • lifted up the lid of the coffin
  • and rubbed it
  • having dosed him with liquor

Gertrude lifted up the lid of the coffin and found it empty, save the white satin pillow. She sighed. “They were at least able to escape from one calamity,” she said to Rupert.

Rupert smiled grimly. “While I am relieved to know that Tristan and Stephen weren’t buried alive, I become increasingly concerned that some nefarious force has carried them off on a ship to Denmark where it will be exceedingly difficult for us to find and rescue them.”

Gertrude patted Rupert on the shoulder. She was not surprised that his mood was maudlin, having dosed him with liquor herself to fortify his courage.

Rupert dropped his aching, gin-soaked head into his hands and rubbed it.

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Bertram Told His Story For the Fortieth Time

  • k-avatarsuddenly the foe cries out
  • ears, a tail, paws
  • like a crushed strawberry
  • peace reigned once more
  • held his head and groaned
  • I grabbed the nose picker’s arm

Bertram told his story for the fortieth time. Each successive rendition has featured a new nonsensical twist, so I listened closely.

“Suddenly the foe cries out like a crushed strawberry!”

That was it. Cecil held his head and groaned, but others in the circle chuckled. I spied Cecil covertly probing his nostril, so I grabbed the nose picker’s arm and gave a rude yank.

“…ears, a tail, paws…” Bertram had deviated yet further from the rather less interesting truth. The fact was that he’d crept upon our old nemesis in his sleep (Bertram’s somnambulism was at times a plus) and now peace reigned once more.

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