Tagged: crime

Two Figures Move Along The Catwalk

  1. Character – judge
  2. Setting – zeppelin
  3. Object – nail-gun
  4. Situation – hiccups

Two figures move along the catwalk, one in black robes and one in blue overalls. With his hands up, the robed man turns to face his captor.

“This won’t solve anything,” the judge says to the roofer.

“You put me away for a long <hic!> time,” drawls the man in overalls, menacing the judge wit his nail-gun.

Not long enough, thinks the judge. A low groaning sound permeates the superstructure as the Zeppelin Chambers – literally the highest court in the land – banks slightly to port.

“Careful with that. You’ll kill us all!” the judge implores.

“May <hic!>, maybe <hic!> that wouldn’t <hic!> be such a <hic!> bad thing!”

Oh why didn’t I take my gavel with me at recess? the judge lamented.

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Matilda Always Laughed

  1. Character – Nudist lesbian mime with wooden shoes and an attitude
  2. Setting – Peepshow
  3. Object – Bouquet of flowers, all yellow
  4. Situation – Sniper

Matilda always laughed when she thought back on it, even though it was sort of tragic.

The funny thing about it was that she could get paid for just hanging around. Naked, but that didn’t bother her, being a nudist. And the slobbering apes who dropped their quarters in the slots didn’t care about her art, the elegance of being “trapped in a box” when she was literally inside a box already, or the skill it took to be silent in wooden shoes. But why should she expect them to?

On that steamy August night a bank robber paused in his getaway to check out her act. The police sniper blew the shot, shattering the one-way glass and revealing a lovely nymph with a cluster of yellow flowers.

The robber escaped, but Chloe captured Matilda.

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The Cops Swarmed

  1. by jenCharacter – Pirate
  2. Setting – A smelly, gray beach
  3. Object – Handful of dirt
  4. Situation – Police search

The cops swarmed all over the beach. It had once been pristine, but was now gray with fingerprint powder, and stank of both sweaty detectives and wet dogs. The K-9 unit was enjoying the outing at least.

Black Kent stroked his beard with his wrist stump. Of course they had taken his hook when they’d placed him under arrest. His mood was blacker than his moniker. When were they going to admit that they had no evidence? As soon as they released him from this blasted squad car, he’d be on his ship and sailing for the southern hemisphere.

A uniformed officer ran up with a handful of dirt. “Sarge, I think I found something!”

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And A Couch That Opened Out

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • and a couch that opened out
  • don’t make it just a flesh wound
  • Men’s wallets are like women’s purses
  • stealing a hat was beneath contempt
  • “Does that hurt?”
  • the biggest frog

Jen’s Take

by jenYolanda was the reigning queen of the Times Square pickpockets. So far no one had been able to top her score from the previous spring when she managed to lift both a Gucci bag and a couch that opened out into a trampoline from the same unsuspecting socialite.

Today Yolanda had to make an example of Jimmy the Hat Thief. As every pickpocket knew, stealing a hat was beneath contempt. Men’s wallets are like women’s purses, though, in the respectability hierarchy.

“Does that hurt?” Yolanda asked Jimmy as she poked him with the hat pin from his latest prize.

“Don’t make it just a flesh wound,” Deak encouraged, “or he’ll never learn his lesson.”

Yolanda considered, then said with an evil grin, “Bring me the biggest frog you can find in Central Park.”

Kent’s Take

“Does that hurt?” Hackney twisted the hatchet.

“Yes, but keep going. Don’t make it just a flesh wound, it has to be convincing.” Simpson gritted his teeth.

Stealing a hat was beneath contempt, but still drew notice from the law. A pound of flesh, or the biggest frog in the county, those were the choices.

Men’s wallets are like women’s purses, as far as the penalties for misuse. Karaoke. Bad business.

Better to pass on the right. Just spend one fitful night — choose between a bathtub and a couch that opened out.

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Varnishing My Study

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • varnishing my study
  • like calling a leg a “limb”
  • each kill a man
  • a stuffed owl
  • I am still on a merry-go-round

Kent’s Take

Even after completing my hazing ritual and varnishing my study, I am still on a merry-go-round of ennui, riding a stuffed owl of disenfranchisement, pondering why we must each kill a man with a harmonica to gain entry into this occult club, puzzling over whether it means the harmonica is to be the weapon or if the victim must have it on him (I covered both bases, just to play it safe), and vexed by habits of linguistic imprecision (like calling a leg a “limb”) in a world where language is already so rife with ambiguity and clouded meanings.

One sentence = Bonus Points!

Jen’s Take

by jenJohannes Van Der Oppenstüffel, the reclusive Dutch billionaire, was sponsoring a competition to choose his next bodyguard. The first task he assigned the hopefuls was to scour the grounds of his immense estate in search of a stuffed owl. Once that was accomplished, he told those who remained, “You will each travel to a foreign city and you will each kill a man named either Karl or Geoffrey. When the task is completed, you will call me with the details. And when I say ‘details’ I mean I want you to be specific. Nothing like calling a leg a ‘limb’ will be allowed.”

Five hours later the first call came.

“I am still on a merry-go-round in the Tivoli park in Copenhagen” came the rough voice, “but Karl is dead, his head crushed by a cotton candy machine.”

“Excellent,” replied Johannes. “Return to Amsterdam immediately to take up your duties. You will begin by varnishing my study. If you know what I mean.”

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Dave Could Not Believe

  • a chorus of raspberries
  • gimme!
  • groped for buttons on the underside
  • hollow-eyed and pale
  • spread-eagle on the hood of the patrol cruiser
  • unmitigated imbecility

Dave could not believe his own unmitigated imbecility. He frowned through the windshield at the policemen, hollow-eyed and pale, from his perch spread-eagle on the hood of the patrol cruiser. He’d defeated the alarm system and picked four locks, only to get run down by the fuzz while jaywalking.

As the money he’d dropped fluttered down the street, Dave groped for buttons on the underside of his watchband, hoping the transition to a universe where he could be so stupid had also remade his timepiece into a versatile super-weapon. Gimme!

No use.

The officers got out and cuffed him to a chorus of raspberries from the other pedestrians.

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