Once again, my creative writing has dried to zero.
Once again, I'm turning to the randomizer to try to kick start my discipline.
The Inspire Me app picks three words at random, and from that, I try to construct a concise story using those three words.
Wish me luck.
Claws, very, here
I'm not very happy with what we have here. Ever since seeing Barbra Streisand in On A Clear Day You Can See Forever, I have been repulsed by long, sharp fingernails. They are no longer loving hands; they are terrifying claws ready to rip your soul to shreds. I wish I wasn't that way, but you don't always get to pick your phobias.
And now I am in love with a woman who insists on keeping her talons long. How can this be when just looking at her hands makes me shaky and nauseous? I could tell her to cut them, but what would that make me? Don't I believe that people should be what they are? How would that kickstart a relationship to be dictating how a person presents themselves?
What if she wanted me to shave myself bald? Would I do that just to please her? Ok, I probably would, but that's not the point.
I can do this. Sometimes when phobias are faced head-on, they fade.
Love will triumph.
In theory.
race, driver, spite
Go! Go! Go!
Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!
What in the world? Is everything a race to my driver? Can't we just go to the Piggly Wiggly at a leisurely pace?
Did Hoke resent me? Was he driving like a speeding lunatic simply out of spite? Was he upset with me for some reason?
I need to have a talk with him as soon as he's not racing. But, unfortunately, I'm rather too frightened to interrupt him right now.
But rest assured, I, Miss Werthan, will get this straightened out.
No one drives Miss Daisy like this.
process, eaten, hurry
There is a decided process to lunchtime. It has to be eaten in precise order. And it must not be done in a hurry.
One must set the courses out carefully. The napkin must be folded precisely and placed just above the right knee.
The soup is first. It looks like cauliflower in a deep red sauce. Of course, that may be what it looks like, but we know that it is not.
After the soup is finished, we proceed to the main entree, flank and balls.
Dessert is a burgandy mousse.
One ends with a prayer of gratitude for those who help sustain us.
Anen.
Stay tuned to this blog for more creative writing!
(I hope.)
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