Tagged: blowgun

I Became More and More Sure That I Was Inhabiting a Warehouse

  • by jenwait to find out why her husband is hobbling toward her in insane panic
  • far-reaching international manhunt
  • I thought his bouncing was accidental
  • in the very near future
  • — one fat, one skinny

Tune in next time part 62                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I became more and more sure that I was inhabiting a warehouse as the drug cleared my system and my faculties returned to normal.

I seemed to be alone in the large open area. Why had Lyudmila and Tessa left me unguarded? And whose warehouse was this?

After arranging the tarp to look like I was still beneath it, I dropped to the cement floor, rolled underneath the pickup, and curled up in the shadow of its oversized tires. And just in time! The door at the far end of the room opened and two figures entered — one fat, one skinny. I recognized them immediately as Heinrich and Aphrodite Hunter, which meant I was in deep shit. Or would be in the very near future. Those two hated each other almost as much as they hated everyone else. For them to team up meant something huge was going down, and I was in the middle of it.

Aphrodite laughed at something her rotund husband said, and then went back out through the door. Heinrich approached the pickup truck, whistling, his belly bouncing. For a moment I thought his bouncing was accidental, merely a result of his loping gait, but then I realized that he was purposefully jostling his stomach up and down. What could he possibly be doing?

In a moment I had my answer. He pulled his enormous Hawaiian shirt up and over his head. Instead of the expanse of flesh I expected, I saw instead a small woman, curled into a ball and clinging to a harness around Heinrich’s normal-sized torso.

He wasn’t fat after all! All this time he had merely been smuggling a contortionist under his clothes. With a sigh she unfolded herself and stood beside Heinrich, fluffing her hair.

My spine chilled as I realized it was Svetlana, John’s other sister, and subject of a far-reaching international manhunt. No wonder she’d proven impossible to find! For just how many years had Heinrich been smuggling the nefarious criminal around inside his clothes? And to what end?

This situation made less and less sense every minute. Lyudmila would never knowingly be in league with Svetlana. They hated each other, and with good reason.

“What are we going to do about this one?” Heinrich asked, gesturing toward the truck bed where he assumed I still lay unconscious.

“We can’t kill him,” Svetlana said in her scratchy voice. “Yet.” She stretched her arms and then bent over into a backbend, every vertebra popping. “I still need him.”

I swallowed.

“But I no longer need you.” Svetlana turned her backbend into a backspring, and launched herself away from Heinrich. She pulled a blowgun from somewhere in her skimpy leotard and shot a dart into Heinrich’s leg. In a blur she disappeared up into the rafters.

The door opened again, admitting Aphrodite who could only stand there and wait to find out why her husband is hobbling toward her in insane panic.

 

bonus points for using them in reverse order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

John’s Fist Came Toward My Face

  • k-avatarpizza cutter, thick with blood.
  • Dr Pepper wrangling
  • as a speckled trout to a fly
  • in inverse ratio to his prowess among men
  • too strong for him

Tune In Next Time Part 9                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

John’s fist came toward my face, but when I ducked that I put my chin directly in line for the snap-kick that was the true attack. It was the same move I fell for last time, the cheap fake-out I’m as drawn to as a speckled trout to a fly. I came to with ringing ears and double vision in time to see John leaving with the giraffe-hide briefcase, wearing my damp gloves.

Damn him. I sat up rubbing my jaw and looked over at Tessa, who was already stirring. Either she was tougher than I knew, or else that tranquilizer had lost potency over time.

Tessa sat up, rubbing her temples. She glanced at me, and said, “Don’t be too worried, the locks on that thing are too strong for him.”

I nodded, more out of hope than any faith in those locks. Then again, my mentor always told me that one’s capacity for puzzling minutiae is in inverse ratio to his prowess among men. That had always just felt like a zen riddle, but in this case I could see its applicability.

“So what happened? Did he have a blowgun or something? Got us both, I see.”

It was tempting to just nod again, but I knew if I lied to her now we would never be okay again. My memory lurched to a linoleum floor and a pizza cutter, thick with blood. So I confessed to the tranquilizer on the handle of the briefcase.

She stood and bellowed down at me, “You son of a misbegotten, Dr Pepper wrangling,  burrito slinger!” She spun away and folded her arms, staring out the window.

“Hey, easy with the casual racism, babe.” I stood up. “Besides, I’m only part Indian. And I have an idea.”

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

When I Saw The Photo

  • k-avatarfoolishly assumed that the astronauts were
  • isn’t it a placebo?
  • in an earth-floored hut
  • something bigger, something that lasts
  • such a methodical revenge
  • But I want somebody else, if it ain’t inconvenient
  • Don’t approach them.

When I saw the photo, I foolishly assumed that the astronauts were in an earth-floored hut. Of course I should have known immediately that it was a mars-floored hut. The hut was a temporary structure built alongside something bigger, something that lasts: the medical barracks of the Mars Colony.

Which was my workplace. I looked out the window and there was the hut, still intact despite its official purpose being depleted.

“You are to find these people and administer the injections. But do it via blowgun. Don’t approach them.” The person who showed me the photo also brought two slender hypodermic darts. I glanced at their labels.

“Fauxdoxicam? Isn’t it a placebo? But more importantly, I have no way to tell who the people in the picture are. They’re wearing spacesuits.”

“I can’t answer any questions. All I can do is communicate your mission parameters.” The stranger got up and left, muttering, “But I want somebody else, if it ain’t inconvenient,” into a strange wrist-mounted device.

I had always known that I would someday need to repay the favor I owed to the interplanetary mob. It had to be them. No one else would exact such a methodical revenge.

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Sheep/Goat Mutual Aid Society

  • k-avatarhis own club lashed out
  • the street sneezed
  • warm salty water in my mouth
  • and crouched while she drank it
  • she was a limp doll

The Sheep/Goat Mutual Aid Society printed a scathing pamphlet about Harvey, and his own club lashed out with a retort in the form of a full-page ad that Sunday. All was politics as usual, until either a Sheep or a Goat used a blowgun to take Harvey out of the picture.

Harvey lay there, and the street sneezed under him. The poison of the dart twisted the world into rippling fever-dreams, and he could only lay still and wonder if he would survive.

So much warm salty water in my mouth, Harvey thought. He couldn’t breathe. But a cat trotted up to him, and purred in his ear, and crouched while she drank it.

Having saved his life, she was a limp doll across his chest.

 

bonus points for using them in order!

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I’ll Never Forget My Day in Court

  • k-avatarmy leg mashed into the sheep dog
  • pat her everywhere, including under her stomach
  • “You’ll be playing an elderly butler.”
  • get yourself another lawyer
  • remarkable reproduction of a Ubangi blowgun
  • equally terrible but for an entirely different reason
  • using Marian’s breast as a springboard

I’ll never forget my day in court, one of the most unpleasant in my life. It all started when my leg mashed into the sheep dog after using Marian’s breast as a springboard, and the EMT told me to pat her everywhere, including under her stomach, and I thought he meant Marian, whom I’d just met and didn’t really get along with, and when I explained all this from the witness stand my attorney said, “Get yourself another lawyer.”

Equally terrible but for an entirely different reason was my first theatre audition, at age nine. The director said, “You’ll be playing an elderly butler,” and handed another actor a remarkable reproduction of a Ubangi blowgun. Then he said something vague about the butler not doing it this time, and next thing I knew there was a sharp sting in my buttock and the room went all spinny.

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Signs Point To Yes

  1. by jenCharacter – Dick Clark’s evil dopplegänger
  2. Setting – Pere-Lachaise
  3. Object – Magic 8 Ball
  4. Situation – group sex

Signs point to yes.

“Excellent,” breathed Click Dark. “Excellent.” He tried to cackle, but it didn’t work. He carefully rested the Magic 8 Ball on Morrison’s tombstone and stepped back. The crowds were always thin this time of day in the fall, but he’d need to work quickly.

His blow gun made short work of the gendarme, and Dark was able to begin drawing the arcane symbols necessary for tonight’s ritual.

A group of Australian tourists was the first to fall into his trap. They quickly disrobed and began their gyrations. Dark started the video camera and smiled, feeling his own arousal. A lone French student and three Germans completed the group.

Dark watched the steam rise from the twelve nude bodies, and completed his calculations. The blond boy. He would be first. Dark stepped out of his trench coat and joined the group.

about 4 elements writing prompts

handy dandy writing prompt generator