Category: Stichomancy Prompts

I Struggled Into A Standing Position

  • by Kentaccording to the banner pinned to the wall
  • it’s bandit country.
  • each of the 24 wigs
  • Suddenly, I want to touch him.
  • “Out loud!”

Tune in next time part 608      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I struggled into a standing position, still leaning against the damp rock for support. Carefully, tenderly, I reached for the concealed button John had used to deactivate Tessa. I felt a soft click behind her ear. She remained motionless, but powerful beams of light shot from her eyes.

Blinking and squinting in the sudden glare, I surveyed the tunnel. “Well, Tessa,” I muttered, “according to the way these stones have been fitted, I would say our little subterranean passageway is a lot older than Twerkistan. And, according to the banner pinned to the wall, it’s bandit country.”

Given the likelihood of lurking bandits, I very much wanted to revive my formidable companion. A bit more exploration around the base of her skull turned up three more buttons, the third of which released Tessa from her paralytic state. I had left her headlights on, but as soon as she regained control she turned them off. “Gives me such a headache,” she explained. Fortunately her left pinkie contained an LED that was sufficient to keep us from tripping over anything.

“John went this way,” I said. “I wonder if he’s met any bandits yet.”

We were still wondering that a few minutes later when a large heap of hair came into view. Inspection revealed it was a pile of wigs, and each of the 24 wigs was exactly alike. All the same vibrant green.

I didn’t know what it could mean, and that made me angry at John for leaving me in the lurch, again. “Suddenly,” I said, “I wish to speak to John. Suddenly, I want to touch him. With my fists. A lot.”

Tessa nodded. Something she saw over my shoulder made her freeze, and I thought for a moment John had snuck up and hit that button again. But she spoke softly. “I’m going to turn and run. Count to ten and then chase me.” Before I could get her to clarify, she whirled away and vanished into the blackness. I had no choice but to comply.

My thoughts raced with the possibilities of what she’d spotted and why her instructions had been so unconventional, so I used the activity of counting to quell this storm within my mind. One, I thought. Two…

“Out loud!” came Tessa’s reprimand from the murky distance.

“ThreeFourFiveSixSevenEightNineTen!”

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I Fought to Remain Conscious

  • by jenreferred to by the much cooler moniker
  • dressing provocatively, singing provocative songs
  • helium balloon with a rainbow
  • pulled my hair really hard
  • my vision is clear

Tune in next time part 607      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I fought to remain conscious as John’s airborne sedative worked through my system. As the inventor, he tried to make everyone at the Academy call it “John Juice,” and hated when it was referred to by the much cooler moniker of my own invention: “Sleepytime Spray.” As his lab partner in The Chemistry of Spycraft, I helped John a lot during the testing of his concoction, dressing provocatively, singing provocative songs, and otherwise distracting our fellow students so John could sneak up and thrust a (presumed) helium balloon with a rainbow on the side in their faces, and pop it. Of course, the balloons weren’t filled with helium at all, but with Sleepytime Spray. Once he had the sedation chemistry dialed in, he just had to find a different means of deployment, as everyone in the biz had come to fear balloons with rainbows. Obviously he’d settled on this disgusting saliva trigger.

But what John didn’t know was that I wasn’t Jason. I was Jason’s twin brother, practically a co-inventor of the wretched substance, and over our time developing it, I had cultivated a near-immunity to its effects. All I needed was one good dose of pain and I’d snap out of it. I slowly reached up and pulled my hair really hard.

“My vision is clear,” I told the inert Tessa. “In another moment I’ll be able to stand. Blink if you can hear me.”

But she did not blink.

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John Made an Embarrassed Little Noise

  • by Kentknees began to buckle
  • most erotic Dennis the Menace
  • shave their taints
  • out of spite
  • I’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop.

Tune in next time part 606      Click Here for Earlier Installments

John made an embarrassed little noise and scraped his glove on the stone floor to remove the offending globule. He got to his knees, reaching to Tessa for help the rest of the way up. The sight of him kneeling and her poised over him brought a flutter to my chest and my knees began to buckle. It was either the schmaltziest rom-com poster or the most erotic Dennis the Menace ever published. Why it was hitting me so hard I couldn’t understand, but I slumped back against the wall for support.

“Odorless and quick-acting,” John said as he stood with assistance from Tessa. “And there’s a convenient antidote that can be administered in advance. Those are the pluses. But it’s saliva-activated and, of course, doesn’t work on robots. Those are only pluses under very specialized circumstances.”

Tessa turned to me with a curious expression, and John moved with lightning speed, his finger jabbing the button mounted behind her left ear and freezing her in that quizzical pose.

“Nothing personal,” he said. I tried to lunge at him, but only managed to slide down into a seated position. “This is really for your own good, Jason. You’re not ready to face these people. You’d be found out as a mole inside of an hour, but I can blend in. You see, to them outsiders are the cause of all the world’s ills, and they shave their taints out of spite. It’s just a lucky coincidence that mine’s already shaved. I’ve been doing it my whole life and it’s hard to stop.” He shook his head. “If only your twin brother were here, he’d understand. I could bring him along on this mission. Oh well.”

And with that he loped off into the darkness of the tunnel.

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One Final Shove

  • by jenstop licking your arms
  • the flippin’ nipple
  • My sister ditched me
  • breathless rumor-mongering
  • a sluglike glob of substance

Tune in next time part 605      Click Here for Earlier Installments

One final shove from Tessa sent me through the hole and I landed atop John in a painful heap. So far, no poop, which meant I’d been right about how disused this outhouse was. I scrambled off John and stood with my back against the wall, making room for Tessa. John wasn’t as quick, and in a second Tessa came feet-first through the hole and landed gracefully on top of him, the oil lamp in her hands.

John groaned. I reached down to help him stand and found him nuzzling his own arms. “What the hell, stop licking your arms!” I cried.

John threw me both a withering look and a gesture from our Academy days called the flippin’ nipple. “They hurt,” he complained.

“What are you, a dog? Licking them isn’t going to help.”

“I don’t need this from you,” John said. “My sister ditched me at the auction because of all your breathless rumor-mongering. I had to finish the job by myself.

I wondered which sister he was talking about.

“On your feet,” Tessa said. She reached to help John stand, but recoiled when she saw a sluglike glob of substance on his gloved hand. “That had better be a slug,” she muttered savagely.

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“Ugh, Another Sewer”

  • by Kentremained footloose and single
  • or at least his trust fund
  • after a couple glasses of Chardonnay
  • nice-looking doctor
  • I live for the eroticism.

Tune in next time part 604      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Ugh, another sewer,” I grumbled.

“He has a good point about the weather,” Tessa said.

“Push me!” John urged. He turned his head to eye me up. “Or is this going to be Weehawken all over again?”

That was a loaded question. I had an escapade with John in that town, tunneling into a bank vault, only we miscalculated and popped up in the self-help section of the public library. Thing is, I knew he and Jason also tried a heist in Weehawken. This had to be a test. But the only details I’d ever learned from my twin were that they tripped a sprinkler system, there was a bartender involved who took the fall but nevertheless remained footloose and single-minded about gin, and one of them had at one point impersonated the mayor’s son, Matthew.

Laying the lisp on thick, I asked, “Are you still in contact with Matt?”

“Oh yes,” John replied, “or at least his trust fund. And Trey got out last year and is back to slinging beers at the Happy Taphouse. He tells some amazing stories after a couple glasses of Chardonnay. Turns out his cellmate was this nice-looking doctor who got arrested for–”

“I thought we were in a hurry!” Tessa exclaimed, upending John into the toilet. He yelped and vanished into the blackness below. She said, “You next!”

Not wanting to find out what means of persuasion a ticked-off TSS-A unit might have at her disposal, I dove after John. But my shoulders are broader than his, and I immediately got stuck. The quick-thinking Tessabot began shoving on my buttocks in an effort to cram me through the opening.

“I think you like this,” I said.

“I live for the eroticism,” she replied, and shoved harder.

John thought I’d been addressing him. Grabbing my wrists and yanking, he said, “Guess I’m just a sentimental fool. But this is already better than Weehawken.”

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“Don’t Make Jokes About Poop”

  • by jen“It’s my one rule.”
  • Olga’s younger and more receptive sister
  • spider-infested genitals
  • an awfully big adventure
  • smelled like a liquor cabinet

Tune in next time part 603      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Don’t make jokes about poop,” Tessa demanded. “It’s my one rule.” She slammed the outhouse door closed. “Now,” she said, turning her attention to John’s awkward situation, “what do we do about Olga’s younger and more receptive sister here?”

“We could dump him through the hole,” I lispingly suggested.

“I said no poop jokes!”

“This place has been abandoned for ages. Anyone who tried to use the toilet would wind up with spider-infested genitals. I’m sure that if we shove John down in there he’ll have an awfully big adventure, but not a terrifically stinky one.”

Below our tangled limbs, my trapped frenemy wriggled, trying to free himself. He worked up a sweat and soon the whole tiny room smelled like a liquor cabinet. I worried about the safety of using an oil lamp in such an atmosphere.

“Hey,” John’s voice resonated under the floor. “There’s a tunnel down here. It heads in the direction of Bumpengrynd. Push me through the hole and I’ll make my way there quickly, protected from the storm!”

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“No Way”

  • by Kentmost frightful freckles
  • hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar
  • spreading rumors about him
  • Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend
  • the single hockey puck we own

Tune in next time part 602      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“No way,” I said to John, bracing to keep him from shifting me aside. I heard the wood creak as he renewed his efforts to barge in. Soon none of us would have any shelter from the weather.

“What would your old gang think?” I grunted. “Doing them proud, wrestling to enter an outhouse where you’re not welcome.”

John scowled at me, but he relented. The gang I was referring to was the “frightful freckles” and as far as he knew only Jason was aware he’d ever been one. But like most frightful freckles, he had his photo tacked up in the post office between a hand-drawn portrait of the Hamburglar and a public notice from some public nuisance threatening a lawsuit if the Freemasons don’t stop spreading rumors about him.

During my vivid recollections, John ducked under my arm and managed to cram himself inside the crowded structure. His face ended up poised over the bowl. “Careful,” I said, laughing, “that looks pretty deep.”

His reply resonated underfoot. “Deeper is only better in oil wells and sword thrusts, my friend.” He tried to straighten up but was pinned under my arm and Tessa’s left leg.

I couldn’t stop laughing. “While you’re looking around in there,” I spluttered, “see if you spot the single hockey puck we own!”

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“Still Want Me to Frisk Him?”

  • by jenrotate your thumbs
  • we turned it on
  • “By Europeans, yes.”
  • one of my favorite activities abroad
  • futile attempt to dislodge me

Tune in next time part 601      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Still want me to frisk him?” Tessa asked.

“Yes,” I said with a half-hearted lisp. “And be sure to rotate your thumbs into every conceivable crevice. This one’s wily.”

John sighed. “Can I at least come in out of the snow?”

“There’s hardly room for the two of us, let alone three!”

“This reminds me,” John said, “of that time in Dusseldorf. Do you remember, Tessa? We were having trouble squeezing everyone into the phone booth until we turned it on its side. Such ingenuity!”

“Ingenuity.” Tessa nodded. “By Europeans, yes.” I could tell that she was not the Tessa who had participated in this caper with John. “Cramming people into phone booths is one of my favorite activities abroad.”

“I realize this isn’t a phone booth,” John said. “But the same principle applies. Scoot over,” he said, shoving me in a futile attempt to dislodge me from my position beside the oil lamp.

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The Big Six-Oh-Oh

It’s another milestone for everyone’s favorite chain story. This one. We’re talking about this one. The one you’re currently reading, which has reached its epic 600th installment. Some might say we need a hobby, but the joke’s on them — this is our hobby!

To celebrate such a grand achievement, Jen and Kent will be working on today’s entry together. Jen will go first and write until she manages to work in the first prompt phrase, then she’ll hand the keyboard to Kent. We’ll alternate until we hit the bottom of the list, then we’ll hit the showers.

Through the years we’ve accumulated a small collection of writing advice and style guides, and various and sundry reference books. We’ve drawn today’s prompt phrases from a handful of them: The Deluxe Transitive Vampire, Woe is I, The Writer’s Journey, Writing Better Lyrics, and American English Compendium.

Tune in next time part 599 & 600      Click Here for Earlier Installments

  • Frisk whoever enters.
  • moped in my boudoir
  • don’t always land gently
  • Certainly there is magic in the briefcase
  • rose to his haunches
  • aeronautical engineer could give a more precise description
  • ghosts of dead rules and spirits of imaginary taboos
  • where one style maven sees UFO’s
  • American slang and colloquialisms
  • vintage macho expression

For the next hour, while my horny necromancer costume dried, I regaled Tessa with stories of Jessamin’s terribleness.

“I get it,” Tessa said. “Your sister sucks.”

“It’s more than that,” I said, but before I could explain we heard a commotion outside. I pulled my still-damp pants on and told Tessa, “Frisk whoever enters. We don’t want any surprises.”

The noises outside grew more distinct as their source got closer to the door. I could only make out one voice, which sounded angry, mingled with enough crashing of branches and crunching of sleet-crusted snow to suggest a whole brigade. The angry voice said, “I suppose she’d have been happy to have moped in my boudoir all weekend, but I had places to go.”

I recognized the voice, and so did Tessa, judging by the look she threw my way. It was a look that said she was ready to land some punches, and we all know that a robot’s punches don’t always land gently.

The knob jiggled once and stilled. The voice outside shouted, “I know about the briefcase! Certainly there is magic in the briefcase, that’s not even the issue anymore!”

Why John thought I had the briefcase was anyone’s guess. I hadn’t seen that thing in years. The door flew outward and there stood my onetime partner/ofttimes nemesis, in the teeth of the storm. The snow rose to his haunches and was plastered to his clothes so that he resembled a yeti. The wind and ice had sculpted his hair into a lopsided wing, of which I’m sure an aeronautical engineer could give a more precise description. All I could think was that if his head were an airplane it would be doomed to fly in circles.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he boomed. “You’re going to say you can’t give me the briefcase, and you’re going to say your brother has it, and you’re going to cite all these ghosts of dead rules and spirits of imaginary taboos, and all that other Contrarian shit. And I’m sick of it, Jason. Sick. Of. It.” After a few seconds he raised his phone to his ear and muttered, “I’m going to have to call you back.”

Tessa and I exchanged a look. Her eyebrow quirked in a very lifelike manner, and I thought I knew what she meant. I knew our game plan. But then I looked at John again, at that hair, and I was mesmerized. It was as if he’d used a time machine to visit a salon in the 80s where one style maven sees UFO’s and translates them into coiffure.

“Have you misplaced your flock of seagulls?” I asked.

John’s confusion contorted his face beautifully and I had to suppress a snort of laughter. “You know I don’t understand all of your American slang and colloquialisms,” he said. “And it’s rude of you to use them around me.”

But it wasn’t long before the confusion on his face shifted rapidly to a vintage macho expression, a confident smirk, as he said, “You, ‘Jason,’ seem to have misplaced your lisp!”

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“Okay,” Tessa Said

  • by Kenteven his flaws have flaws
  • can’t spell his own name
  • they let me hang out in my speedo
  • fighting and fighting and fighting and fighting
  • document his many niggles

Tune in next time part 598    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Okay,” Tessa said, “I know to expect someone a bit odd. But I knew that already, if he’s a member of your family.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s weird and broken, even his flaws have flaws. Usually he’s so drunk he can’t spell his own name.”

“Such condemnation for your own brother. What do people do to get in your good books?”

“Well for one thing, they let me hang out in my speedo.” I swiveled my hips to draw her attention back to my giraffe-print undies. She smirked and emitted a robotic little chuckle. “I blame Mother, naturally,” I went on. “Growing up she always had us fighting and fighting and fighting and fighting and–”

“I get it,” Tessa interrupted. “So it’s only natural for you to spot all your siblings’ flaws. Where this brother is concerned, you feel compelled to document his many niggles.”

“When we run into him, you’ll understand. But let’s not forget that Jessamin is the main worry for us now.”

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