Category: Stichomancy Prompts

Jason Crossed the Restaurant

  • by jencash prize of $100,000
  • Is that your usual walk?
  • if any part of your body is frozen
  • A little rubbing of the limbs
  • Jason, what happened?
  • asking for a dragon of her own
  • traveling at a furious rate

Jason crossed the restaurant, traveling at a furious rate. He was shivering.

“Jason, what happened?” asked Holly. “Is that your usual walk?”

“Georgia locked me in the walk-in freezer!” Jason exclaimed.

Holly rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively. “A little rubbing of the limbs is all you need if any part of your body is frozen.” She eyed his zipper. “Is any, er, part of your body frozen, Jason?”

“You don’t understand!” Jason snapped. “Georgia knows about us. Now, thanks to that damn prenup she’s going to get a cash prize of $100,000!”

“Your dragon of a lawyer will take care of everything,” Holly assured.

“Georgia’s already asking for a dragon of her own,” Jason sighed. “I’m screwed.”

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Pulling Back The Tarp

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  • reveals the bloody guts
  • a blond haired woman in a jogging suit
  • a paper cup of hot chocolate
  • the signs were there
  • an overall consensus on what we can all agree on

Pulling back the tarp reveals the bloody guts underneath, reveals them to a blond haired woman in a jogging suit holding a paper cup of hot chocolate. The other detectives swill coffee, but especially on a chilly morning like this Monique Saint Claire preferrs something sweet.

“Detective Saint Claire, this isn’t your case.”

“S’pose not, Detective Jones, but it is my neighbor,” Monique replies. Steve Jones frowns at her over his styrofoam cup.

“Your landlord such a hard-ass that his tenants jump off their balconies if they’re late with the rent?”

“Nah, he’s a peach. The super’s an asshole, though.” Monique frowns at the mess on the sidewalk. “This is Mike. Just moved in. And he didn’t jump.”

“What makes you say that?”

Monique isn’t sure how to explain the obvious to a fellow detective. “You should have already figured it out,” she says, “the signs were there.” Signs that include Mike’s dressy shoes, and the long silver hairs tangled in his fingers.

“Just go finish your morning stroll, or whatever,” Jones says. “Don’t make this suck any worse. We already reached an overall consensus on what we can all agree on, before you showed up.”

 

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Speaking On Behalf Of All Women

  • by jenspeaking on behalf of all women
  • call out for a cessation of hostilities
  • bubble of hot poison in your loins
  • drinking a glass of cold grog
  • unless she herself was at the fairgrounds

Speaking on behalf of all women, we call out for a cessation of hostilities between the sexes. Men, when you feel the bubble of hot poison in your loins that some might call misogyny, we suggest you grab a brew from the fridge. Drinking a glass of cold grog will surely be more satisfying than berating your wife or girlfriend. Unless she herself was at the fairgrounds when the shit went down, in which case, do whatever man. That fairground shit was intense.

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To The Flock Of Gentle Churchgoers

  • by jenher sundress was a mass of wrinkles
  • inherited my family’s trime-traveling gene
  • ripping my trousers, cutting my leg
  • She spread out all her fingers
  • “The hunchback must be mad too,” said the Curate.

To the flock of gentle churchgoers it must have seemed that Germaine and I appeared out of nowhere. There they were, listening to a sermon, when suddenly there we were, fornicating on the floor in front of the altar. It’s all on account of the fact that I inherited my family’s time-traveling gene. When we started, you see, the church had yet to be built.

As soon as we realized we had an audience, we stopped what we were doing. Germaine tried to cover herself, but her sundress was a mass of wrinkles. She spread out all her fingers to cover her naughty bits as best she could, ripping my trousers, cutting my leg in the process. The position we were trying out was called The Hunchback and it was rather complicated.

“I’m so mad at this interruption, Rufus!” cried Germaine.

“The Hunchback must be mad too,” said the Curate. He winked at us.

Who told him what it was called?

 

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I Have to Admit

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  • “Bingo.”
  • in the days of my youth
  • rather enjoyed my liaison with Francis
  • at a local coffee shop
  • shot him in the mouth

“I have to admit that I rather enjoyed my liaison with Francis at a local coffee shop.”

“If you didn’t admit it, I’d drag it out of you. I haven’t seen a smile like that on your face since we went on that robbery spree in the days of my youth.”

“That was fun, too. Francis needn’t know about any of that, of course.”

“Bingo.”

“Especially the jewelry store. That one wasn’t as much fun.”

“The security guard ruined the whole thing. That’s why you shot him in the mouth.”

“With a squirt gun! You always leave that part out.”

“And you always leave out that it wasn’t filled with water.”

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I’m No Slouch

by jen

  • fertile ground for unintentional comedy
  • bustling up from his chair
  • I’m no slouch
  • leave it alone
  • find myself craving the famous borscht

I’m no slouch, but my Russian is not as good as it could be. I try to tell the ambassador that whenever I am in Moscow I find myself craving the famous borscht. Who knows what I actually say. The ambassador cries, “Leave it alone, leave it alone!” while bustling up from his chair, his face as red as the beets the soup is made from. Cultural misunderstandings are fertile ground for unintentional comedy, but they make diplomacy a bitch.

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“Thanks For the Tea, Poco”

  • k-avatarthe yellow spheres
  • Screech! I felt it.
  • lick at his sore feet
  • Thanks for the tea, Poco
  • back door moments

“Thanks for the tea, Poco.”

I drained my mug, got up from the table, and was out the back door moments before Poco’s uncle Pico pulled up out front. Pico slammed on the brakes — Screech! I felt it. I shimmied over the fence and beat feet.

In the alley, an old wino let a mongrel lick at his sore feet. I left them to it.

Poco’s aunt Paca would be just finishing up her lesson at the tennis court. I pictured her in a short white dress, as the yellow spheres ricocheted all around her. Then she felt like stretching…

Back door moments, indeed.

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“Good Evening”

  • by jenred micro-fleece pajamas
  • no one could touch me, not even myself!
  • Prime Minister’s Question Time
  • you want them to smell
  • competitive sort of interaction

“Good evening and welcome to Prime Minister’s Question Time. I’m your host, Margaret Thatcher. The first question tonight comes from Rune Skelley who tweets, “Prime Minister, I’m in the market for a quality pair of red micro-fleece pajamas. What should I look for when shopping?”

“Well, Rune Skelley, the most important thing is that you want them to smell new, and not as if they had been worn during any competitive sort of interaction with a member of the opposite sex. I’m sure you understand what I’m alluding to. I myself used to own a pair of Union Jack micro-fleece pajamas and eventually, after many long nights in Parliament, they smelled so badly that no one could touch me, not even myself!”

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Carla Fondly Recalled

  • k-avatarfirst missionary journey
  • a zen-like joy
  • condemned to the eternal fires of hell
  • a victory ode
  • when men met and sat
  • One has to eat!

Carla fondly recalled her first missionary journey, and even more fondly her first doggy journey. Thinking about those moments brought her a zen-like joy.

“As in, like, joy?”

“Yes, Darla, close enough.” Carla knew she shouldn’t try to explain such things to her little sister, as the poor girl invariably came away moist and bewildered. If she kept it up, Carla feared she’d be condemned to the eternal fires of hell.

Anyway, it was time to take a break from composing a victory ode to when men met and sat outside her bedroom door like patients in a porno waiting room. To dinner! One has to eat!

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Everything About Felicity Was All Brown

  • by jenrolled her beautiful eyes
  • like some patient livery cob
  • suddenly declared unlawful
  • no other password
  • the beautiful dog’s friendly attention
  • as plainly as the geese
  • causing an obstruction in the shaft
  • interposed his elegantly marked body
  • in the crepuscular twilight
  • WOW! Is she dragging!
  • such petty jealousies
  • all brown, brown eyes, brown hair

Everything about Felicity was all brown, brown eyes, brown hair, brown tobacco-stained teeth. She wore a brown velour jumpsuit and brown leather boots. Erasmus thought she dressed that way to hide her beauty from the eyes of men, to prevent such petty jealousies as she must have experienced in school when she no doubt turned the heads of her friends’ swains. It was for very similar reasons that Erasmus had covered his body with detailed black tattoos. Such subterfuge did not fool Erasmus, who saw her sensual attractiveness as plainly as the geese flying overhead and honking in the crepuscular twilight saw the small pond in the woods as their pit stop for the night.

“Why must those horrid sentries be causing an obstruction in the shaft?” wailed Felicity.

WOW! Is she dragging! thought Erasmus. Felicity was usually stoic in the face of such disappointment. She must be completely exhausted to break down like that. They knew when they signed up for the Amazing Race that there would be frustrations, but nothing had prepared them for this task, in which they were required to navigate their way through a disused emerald mine in Myanmar. Much to their chagrin, the team had just found themselves back at the entrance and had gone outside for some fresh air and to pet the large black dog that was chained there.

“Are you certain you know no other password?” Erasmus asked.

Felicity rolled her beautiful eyes like some patient livery cob who had lost all patience upon learning that horses had been suddenly declared unlawful.

“If I knew another password,” she grumbled, “don’t you think I would have mentioned it?”

Her despair drew the beautiful dog’s friendly attention, and it demanded to be petted. Erasmus felt a flair of jealousy and interposed his elegantly marked body between Felicity and the animal.

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