Category: Stichomancy Prompts

Überslut666

  • by jenmummified in a sitting position
  • broadcasting their raw footage
  • I’d vote to set her adrift
  • “online BFF”
  • lunged forward upon his face

Überslut666 was my “online BFF” for, like, three whole months, but then yesterday I tuned into her cam feed and saw her having sex with my “online boyfriend,” just broadcasting their raw footage for everyone to see, and, like, she lunged forward upon his face and everything, and it was soooo embarrassing, and if it were up to me I’d vote to set her adrift on an ice floe and let her turn into an ice mummy, only her berg would be so small she’d be mummified in a sitting position!

bonus points for using them in one sentence

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Then There’s The One

  • k-avatarWendy and Peter Pan get engaged
  • endless bodies all in a row
  • It’s not an escort service.
  • come on people, we’re almost there
  • ignorant, psycho dickheads

Then there’s the one where Wendy and Peter Pan get engaged in an argument about how many Lost Boys it would take to reach from Neverland to London if you laid them out, endless bodies all in a row. Very metaphysical and macabre. Not one of the better episodes.

My personal fave is the one where they go to Hook’s lair. Hook has given up piracy and become a pimp, so the ship in the cavern is all done up with red lanterns. It’s not an escort service. There’s nothing classy about it. He makes Wendy a job offer, but jealous Tinkerbell swoops in and takes the position instead. Soon her side business of dealing dust has earned her enough to boot Hook off his own ship and take over.

Only one more season to go, and it’s all stuff I haven’t seen yet. Come on, people, we’re almost there! Our binge will be complete!

Okay, fine, wimp out after only 46 hours. I’ll finish it up by myself. Who needs you ignorant, psycho dickheads anyway!

Wait, they recast Tink? Now Peter’s a cop in Boston? And Wendy’s little cousin is moving in? Man, this show really jumped the crocodile.

bonus points for using them in order

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Never Have I

  • by jen— of course kids tell scary stories about them
  • I would have been prepared for the screams
  • my knives a blur in my hands
  • mistrusted my own senses more
  • Listening.

Never have I mistrusted my own senses more than the time I was on Iron Chef and the secret ingredient that I had to build every course of my meal around was revealed to be grasshoppers. Ah grasshoppers — of course kids tell scary stories about them, but I love them. They’re best, in my opinion, sautéd in a little olive oil and tossed with sea salt. The fact that I love this food that is generally reviled had me doubting myself strongly.

When the pedestal displaying the secret ingredient finished its rise from below the floor, and the fog cleared, I ran to collect my share of the lovely green bugs. To my surprise they were still alive. I hadn’t expected that. I felt a little guilty discussing my recipe plan with my sous chefs because it felt like the grasshoppers were watching us. Observing. Listening.

If I’d had time to think I would have been prepared for the screams of all the tiny bugs when I threw them in the blender with a chopped avocado and hit purée. The sound quickly died, along with the grasshoppers, and I left the blender whirling away as I moved on to my next dish. I wanted to show off a little, so I dumped a handful of the lively bugs onto my cutting board and went after them, my knives a blur in my hands until every last specimen was bisected and tossed into the wok along with a hefty portion of ginger root.

In addition to my grasshopper smoothie appetizer, and grasshopper ginger stir fry, I concocted a delicious grasshopper tempura, and made caramel popcorn with pecans and grasshoppers for a whimsical desert.

Suck it, Iron Chef Morimoto! My cuisine reined supreme!

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Alimony, Acrimony

  • k-avatarTiffany didn’t deserve any more money
  • has not he the true build of a cuckold?
  • stopping of its own accord
  • rolled about in uncouth positions
  • I don’t know the solar systems, but

Alimony, acrimony. Can’t be coincidental those words are so alike.

I’m going to call my lawyer first thing Monday and get it knocked way back, maybe back to zero. Tiffany didn’t deserve any more money, especially not any more of mine. If she was buying pornographic orreries then she had clearly run out of legitimate expenses.

Yet, I’m captivated by the clockwork prurience on her nightstand. I wound it when I came in, and watched as the “planets” rolled about in uncouth positions. The mechanism ran down, stopping of its own accord, and I’m staring a while longer. Venus in particular holds my attention, appropriately enough.

I know I should be leaving Tiffany alone, but she started it. She said to her new lover, Antoine, “Has not he the true build of a cuckold?” If she’s going to make those kinds of comments, then she should send them via an email account I don’t know the password for. It’s like she’s rubbing my face in it. Antoine doesn’t have the foggiest idea what a cuckold is, and Tiff knows that.

I snap a picture of the orrery and send it to my new lover, Adrienne. I’ll show it to my lawyer in person, keeping the evidence of my break-in from bloodying his electronic hands. Adrienne already knows I’m here. She’s waiting in the car. Her reply is characteristically earthy.

“I don’t know the solar systems, but it looks like something interesting is happening to Uranus.”

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Fletcher Made the Mistake

  • by jenexplosives placed inside
  • regarding the stranger as a harmless lunatic
  • within the system
  • “No grownups!”
  • the sacred lotus flower

Fletcher made the mistake of regarding the stranger as a harmless lunatic, one of those poor unfortunates who can’t really get along within the system of society, but pose no real danger. It was a mistake he would regret until the day he died, even after his mind atrophied and his once magnificent intellect devolved to a childlike state that compelled him to build forts out of couch cushions and yell, “No grownups!” any time a nurse or orderly approached with his medication. The stranger was definitely a lunatic, but he was anything but harmless. The sacred lotus flower he carried past Fletcher’s security post that fateful day had enough high-grade explosives placed inside to flatten a city block, so the circus tent stood no chance. No chance at all.

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We Are Certain The Contaminant is Biological

  • k-avataris biological in nature
  • the gentleman bowed
  • indicated the formation of the first crystals
  • certain dark and dirty chambers
  • but the Impala is a spacious automobile

“We are certain the contaminant is biological in nature,” I was advised, and the gentleman bowed as he told me the news and indicated the formation of the first crystals in certain dark and dirty chambers of the passenger compartment, “and, we fear, quite virulent,” the dapper mechanic went on, “but the Impala is a spacious automobile, so just stay out of the affected zones and you’ll be fine.”

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Blaine Approached the Tennis Court

  • by jenin small gold letters
  • five minutes or an hour
  • your love was just a game
  • “Let him speak!”
  • so weak and emaciated

Blaine approached the tennis court bleachers where Lucille sat with her gaggle of girlfriends, watching the match. She saw him coming and stood to leave, but Gertrude grabbed her by the elbow and said, “Let him speak!”

It mattered not if he spoke for five minutes or an hour, Blaine knew he had no hope of winning her back, so he read the speech he had prepared ahead of time which was printed in small gold letters on an index card and cupped in the palm of his left hand. “Your love was just a game, Lucille, like tennis, and I so weak and emaciated from the nonstop playing of it that I could not help but lose.”

And with what little dignity he still possessed, he turned and strode away, leaving Gertrude and the others all awhisper.

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It Was The Kind of Memory

  • k-avatarmadly dig at your ears with a Q-Tip
  • endless chain of consequences
  • the submersible’s robotic arm
  • aka the Maine lobster
  • a solitary llama was squeezed in

It was the kind of memory that makes you want to madly dig at your ears with a Q-Tip, or with a fork, some implement that can eradicate it from your head. One little lapse that led to an endless chain of consequences and ever deepening despair, depths both figurative and literal. Allowing the code book to be thrown overboard, which meant the message from HQ couldn’t be deciphered and the ambassador’s questions couldn’t be answered. Now, a mile below the stormy surface, using the submersible’s robotic arm to retrieve the errant codex from the muck. Hoping to complete the task quickly and avoid a run-in with the armored patrol sub of Jack Rabies, aka the Maine Lobster. The ambassador knows more than he’s telling you, has some disturbing personal stake in the outcome. At his insistence, a solitary llama was squeezed in with you on the tiny sub. Fortunately, it knows how to operate the sonar array.

 

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As the Butler

  • by jenonly marginally shorter than the average man
  • he hissed
  • came from the heart and not from the lips
  • the butler put my cloak
  • I know you may be skeptical

As the butler put my cloak in the closet he hissed, “I know you may be skeptical, but I am only marginally shorter than the average man,” but the sound came from the heart and not from the lips, for there is no way to truly hiss a phrase with so few sibilant sounds in it.

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Aureliano is Really Quite Masculine

  • by jenalthough his solid chin is clear of any hair
  • with a canine-skin collar
  • “Big Apple” cufflinks
  • dark blue eyes and a beautiful belly
  • overruled by Judge Maurice

Aureliano is really quite masculine, although his solid chin is clear of any hair, his chest as well. He has dark blue eyes, and a beautiful bellybutton rests in the center of his rock-hard abs. Dancing at my bachelorette party with a canine-skin collar around his thick, manly neck, and absolutely nothing else on but Chippendales style faux-cuffs decorated with “Big Apple” cufflinks, he is the very definition of virility.

“What the heck,” I say to myself, “I’m not married yet!”

I throw caution and my clothes to the wind and smile enticingly at Aureliano. He smiles back, but our tryst is overruled by Judge Maurice, which is what Aureliano calls his penis, which refuses to cooperate, if you know what I mean.

I tip him well anyway, to ensure he doesn’t mention this to my fiancé Dirk tomorrow when Aureliano stands beside him as best man at our wedding.

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