Tagged: tune in next time

“And Why Are You Barefoot?”

  • by Kent“There was, like, a big puddle.”
  • It is a crepuscular melange
  • questionably fashionable folk costumes
  • and octopus finger
  • no need to dress up

Tune in next time part 498      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“And why are you barefoot?” John demanded of Troy.

“There was, like, a big puddle.” Several seconds passed in silence before Troy continued. “So, like, my yeti feet got all wet. I wouldn’t have walked through it, but I needed to take the shortcut so I wouldn’t miss the crepes suzettes. The ninja union gets these guys really good craft services, especially for breakfast. I saw the descrtiption of it posted in the breakroom — ‘It is a crepuscular melange of sweetness to greet the dawn.’ But you have to be near the front of the line to get any.”

“Two million two thousand two hundred and twenty!” John yelled. To Troy he said, “These renegade garrisons and their questionably fashionable folk costumes. The fur is simply impractical.”

“It’s great for keeping warm in the snow,” Troy disagreed amicably. “The catering for lunch is good, too. Stuffed pork wings and octopus fingers.”

“Shut up about the food,” John snapped. “Let’s just finish this job and go home, and there’ll be no need to dress up like creepy alpine apes anymore.”

“I might stick with it,” Troy said, using his left foot to scratch his right ankle.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Another Way You Can Tell

Our weird and wonderful writing-prompt chain story journey has reached an exciting milestone — our 500th episode! If you’ve been around here a while you know how we approach these centenary increments: Jen and Kent share the keyboard and alternate the prompt phrases. Also, we choose a specific source for the prompt rather than using our awesome generator. (You should really check it out!)

In honor of hitting the half-thousand mark, this time out we’ve extracted all the prompt phrases from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which we watched again on our most recent night off. The movie provided us with tons of fodder, so much so that Jen had to winnow it down to just ten items. Kent randomized the order, and here we go!

  • this outrageous accent
  • carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock
  • quite indefatigable
  • you have to know these things when you’re a king
  • shrubberies are my trade
  • farcical aquatic ceremony
  • exciting underwear
  • this isn’t my nose
  • silly knees-bent running about
  • nibble your bum

Tune in next time part 499 & 500      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Another way you can tell Troy and Trent apart is by their toes. Trent’s toe muscles have this outrageous accentuation from his years of ballet, and looking at the toes of the faux-yeti standing before me as he scratched himself, I knew instantly that it was Trent pretending to be Troy. His beefy foot-digits traced the words of Oksana’s manifesto, carved in mystic runes upon the very living rock of the cavern’s floor.

While I pondered my brother’s toes, the bidding continued at a leisurely pace, creeping ever higher. As an auctioneer, Oksana was quite indefatigable. From my station beneath the table, I overheard someone pompously remarking to John, “Sometimes it takes a week to finish the bidding on the first item. Doesn’t do to rush in right at the start, dear boy.” John muttered something I couldn’t hear. But the reply was, “Mother warned me, while I was still a prince, that you have to know these things when you’re a king.” He slurped loudly from a beverage.

“And what are you king of?” John asked.

“Boxwoods, my dear boy! Boxwoods! They call me King Woody. Shrubberies are my family legacy and shrubberies are my trade.”

“Well,” John huffed, “if it takes as long as you say, the spring thaw will make a farcical aquatic ceremony of things in here.”

“But it will be worth it,” King Woody assured drunkenly. “Rumor has it that Jim has some very exciting underwear beneath his fashionable trousers.” The table over me lurched as John used it to keep his balance. King Woody’s laughter drowned in another slurp from his drink, then he said thickly, “I’ll bet you’ve got a nose for such things!”

“But this isn’t my nose,” John said levelly, moving around to Trent’s side of the table.

If I didn’t want to spend the remainder of the auction trapped under the buffet table, I had to get John and Trent to move away. If I did the snowcock cry again, John would undoubtedly start his silly knees-bent running about routine, but did I dare risk the chance that Trent would look under the table in search of the bird?

Luckily, King Woody seemed to pick up on John’s subtle hints. He shuffled away, trying to save face by exclaiming, “I’ll leave the rest of the crudités for you, then, so you can nibble your bumpy gherkin and imagine how demeaning it will feel to lose this auction to me!”

bonus points for using them in order

and mega bonus points for reaching such a milestone!

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

My Yeti Costume was Uncomfortable and No Longer Necessary

  • by jengiven as a a gift to assorted emperors
  • playful gleam in his dark eyes
  • you are rubbing your shin
  • hardly the strangest or rudest
  • only one manservant

Tune in next time part 501      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My yeti costume was uncomfortable and no longer necessary now that Tatiana had given birth. Everyone here thought I was Jason anyway. I wiggled out of the sweaty fur sheath, which was a difficult thing to do underneath the buffet table. I snatched up my mountaineering boots and put them back on, then crawled to the far end of the table and emerged surreptitiously from my hiding place.

The bidding was up to $2,256,004, and creeping higher.

I heard a very pompous voice that I recognized as King Woody say, “Gherkins like these were given as a gift to assorted emperors and empresses, such as my mother Empress Holly.” He had a playful gleam in his dark eyes, and was standing far too close to Maxine.

“Excuse me,” Maxine said. “But you are rubbing your shin against my thigh and I would like you to stop.”

Woody laughed. “I’m sure it’s hardly the strangest or rudest thing to rub up against you, my dear.”

Maxine alerted a yeti security guard, and it took only one manservant to escort the rude, blustering royal from the auction.

With one fewer bidder, maybe things would move more quickly now.

“Two million two hundred fifty six thousand and five!”

I sighed.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Moved Through the Crowd in the Cavern

  • by KentThe one thing I think I know about German
  • I’m not fucking Rembrandt.
  • enough sharp medals to slit my throat
  • did not have a telephone herself
  • “Go ahead, kiss her.”

Tune in next time part 502      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I moved through the crowd in the cavern, trying to look casual and avoid stepping on any toes either figuratively or literally. My climbing boots could do some real damage.

The reason for the lackadaisical bidding revealed itself as I mingled. The auction of my brother Jim was, for many attendees, merely a pretext under which to meet for other forms of business. I overheard arms deals, drug deals, and stolen-art deals. The one thing I think I know about Germany’s art scene, I learned by eavesdropping on two men who were both wearing eyepatches and monocles. And that thing is, German collectors will never give a fuck about my paintings because I’m not fucking Rembrandt.

Even in my uniform, wearing enough sharp medals to slit my throat if I sneezed wrong, I felt a bit underdressed in this crowd. But not compared to the next individual I bumped into, the yeti midwife who was no longer even wearing her rainbow headband. In fact, that was what she was looking for, somehow recognizing me from our chat in the break room even without my yeti costume. She didn’t seem too mad, maybe a bit embarrassed to be interrupting me about it, explaining that she would have called but she didn’t know my number and actually did not have a telephone herself. I stalled, trying to work out what was going to happen when she looked under the buffet table. Could I just flat-out tell her, since the discarded costume apparently wouldn’t matter to her? It felt risky.

So, my conversation with the yeti midwife continued awkwardly, each of us seeming equally flustered and unsure of ourselves, until a woman in a green satin gown and thigh-high furry boots leaned over to me and said, “Go ahead, kiss her.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Did Not Kiss the Yeti

  • by jendude deserves a crown
  • should have been written on toilet tissue
  • be a couple publicly
  • “I actually looked at it
  • , not just snow.

Tune in next time part 503      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I did not kiss the yeti.

I would have been willing to if it would make the damn auction move faster, but the yeti wasn’t into it. She recoiled. While she argued about propriety with the furry-boots woman, I ducked under the buffet table and retrieved her headband. She snapped it back in place and stomped off. The furry-boots woman said to me, “If she’s married, dude deserves a crown for putting up with her.”

I froze. It was a coded message that should have been written on toilet tissue and passed discreetly between dance partners. Hearing it spoken aloud I wasn’t sure how to respond. Was it just a coincidence, or was this woman really saying that she wanted to be a couple publicly with me? I’d never met her before, but perhaps she and Jason were engaged in a secret romance.

Furry Boots herded me into the corner. “I can tell by your tongue that you’re not Jason,” she murmured. “I actually looked at it really closely and saw the golden tattoos.”

I didn’t want to admit to not being Jason. “How do you presume to know so much about the tongues of my brother and myself?”

“I know so much about Jason’s tongue because he licks many things off of me, not just snow. Jason’s tongue has a blue tattoo, but none in gold.”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

Furry Boots Could Have Learned About Jason’s Tongue Tattoo

  • by Kentchandelier hanging from a brass pole
  • the more exotic and outlandish the names
  • they believe that their teeth would fall out
  • except for their own wives
  • unlimited foot massages

Tune in next time part 504      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Furry Boots could have learned about Jason’s tongue tattoo in any number of ways, or just guessed. It proved nothing. But her use — well, misuse — of the bog-roll cipher showed that she did have some connection to the biz. I had to find out more about her.

“What’s your angle?” I asked her.

“Timmy and Mabel swung on the chandelier hanging from a brass pole,” she recited confidently. It was another code, of course, and again she was taking liberties with deploying it. According to protocol, there should be an actual chandelier present, with nametags dangling among the crystal beads. The message itself is conveyed in the tags, and the more exotic and outlandish the names the larger the squad of assassins targeting the recipient. Being in Timmy-and-Mabel danger didn’t worry me too much.

I opted to turn the tables. “Colloquillian men never cross their eyes, because they believe that their teeth would fall out if they did.” Would Furry Boots be able to decode my message?

She replied, “And they won’t look at anyone’s feet, except for their own wives‘, which they gaze at all night long.”

I looked her up and down. Her response was, at best, inconclusive. The proper countersign would have referenced toenails, but she had seemingly grasped that I was talking about the traditional Colloquillian wedding vow of unlimited foot massages.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

When Jason and I Were Young

  • by jenbask in the sugary afterglow
  • with bleach and everything
  • every fake-tanned, acrylic-nailed, selfie-taking woman
  • going to do “the fetish stuff”
  • near the twins, swinging

Tune in next time part 505      Click Here for Earlier Installments

When Jason and I were young, we once raided the White House pantry and ate an entire Sacher Torte that had been intended as the desert at an important State dinner. We had no time to bask in the sugary afterglow, though, because our mother discovered us and was enraged. She made us clean the entire kitchen, with bleach and everything, and then made us bake a replacement. Our skills were nothing compared to the staff bakers, but our cake was good enough to charm every fake-tanned, acrylic-nailed, selfie-taking woman at the party, so Mother was satisfied.

Furry Boots somehow knew this story. She whispered its details in my ear, thus proving she had a connection of some sort to my family. Perhaps she really was Jason’s lover. That didn’t mean I could trust her.

“Come with me,” she said, gripping me by the lapels of my climbing uniform. She explained that she was going to do “the fetish stuff” with me someplace private, which really didn’t narrow down her intentions much.

At the pace the auction was going, it wouldn’t be over anytime soon. I could afford to step away for a bit. And in private I might be able to figure out who Furry Boots was and what she was after.

We traveled through several rocky passages before entering a cavern decorated with plush yetis. A single crib held my newborn children, and near the twins, swinging a pair of nunchucks lazily, was Jason.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Nunchuks Made Me Nervous

  • by Kenthas a kick on it like a mule
  • until the forklift was encased in ice
  • Boris has just given me a summary
  • you could lose a finger otherwise
  • for all of our reenactments

Tune in next time part 506      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The nunchuks made me nervous for a second, until I recognized them as the foam-rubber replicas we used for all of our reenactments of kung fu movie fights back when we were kids, before the Sacher Torte fiasco. It was crucial to use fake weapons, particularly swords; you could lose a finger otherwise.

Furry Boots announced, “Boris has just given me a summary of the auction’s expected outcome, and we’re falling behind schedule.”

“Call him back,” Jason said. “Tell him I have a plan.” She left.

“Wait, aren’t you supposed to be languishing in Oksana’s damp jail cell?” I demanded of my twin.

He sneered. “Everything was under control. You’re as confused as the Academy hockey coach. Remember when he substituted a forklift for a zamboni, and he refused to admit his mistake and forced the crew to use it until the forklift was encased in ice and the rink’s surface was too rutted and rough for skates and the visiting teams started bringing hobnail boots to wear instead?” He twirled the nunchuks faster, shaking his head. “Anyway, yeah. You’re like him.”

“Stay away from my kids,” I said, taking a step toward him.

I heard a faint ‘thwip’ noise and felt the sting of a dart in my neck. Then another. The plush yetis were spitting them. I staggered.

“Just lie down” Jason advised. “The trank in those things has a kick on it like a mule.”

bonus points for using them in reverse order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

I Tried to ask Jason

  • by jenprobably through some false pretense
  • chocolate pudding
  • truly excessive amount of farting
  • depicted the Brady Bunch
  • two years, ten months, and fifteen days ago

Tune in next time part 507      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I tried to ask Jason how he’d managed to get the dart-spitting toys installed in the nursery, but my mouth wouldn’t work. It was probably through some false pretense, and he would likely not tell me the details anyway.

When I came to, my muscles felt like chocolate pudding and I was farting a lot. A lot a lot. It was a truly excessive amount of farting. Those symptoms helped me identify the tranquilizer in the darts, which did me little good.

A shirtless man stood before me, his hairless chest covered with an elaborate tattoo that depicted the Brady Bunch on their Hawaiian vacation. The last time I saw this guy was two years, ten months, and fifteen days ago. He was not my biggest fan. I groaned. And farted.

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!

The Tattoo Was Quite Unmistakable

  • by Kentwearing a diamond wedding band
  • seeing it swing upon its huge hinges
  • casually raised his wrist to his mouth
  • recognized from my childhood
  • “I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

Tune in next time part 508      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The tattoo was quite unmistakable, but still I squinted twice at his face to be sure it was really the same man. The last time we met, he’d been wearing a diamond wedding band, but today his fingers were ringless.

A gigantic stone door at the other end of the chamber opened. It made no sound, but seeing it swing upon its huge hinges and smelling the warm spring breeze it admitted caused me to realize that I didn’t know where I was. This room had no plush yetis, no crib, and no Jason.

“Where have you taken me, Brady?”

Brady casually raised his wrist to his mouth to fog the crystal of his expensive watch before polishing it on his jeans. He said nothing, but wore a smug expression that made me mad enough to accelerate my recovery from the drugged darts. I wobbled to my feet, staring at his chest tattoo, at the three-by-three grid of faces I recognized from my childhood. When Brady flexed his pecs and rippled his abs, the family members winked and nodded lewdly. The effect was off-putting and I could see why his marriage hadn’t worked.

And then I noticed that the face in the center of the pattern was one that didn’t go with the show. It was a stranger’s face. Had Brady’s tattoo always been like that? Or was this some kind of recent revision? And what did it mean?

“Well?” I demanded. “Are you going to tell me where I am?”

“I’ll show you, you silly ass!”

bonus points for using them in order

about stichomancy writing prompts

try our stichomancy writing prompt generator!