"Here boy!" He threw it and his pet swallowed the device.
"What now?" cowered Calo.
"Change my number, change my galaxy! I'm off!" Boba grabbed his helmet and spacecraft keys and shot out the front door.
Weekend Quickie 76 - Dear Santa
(You have gone back in time and are now a child again; write a letter to Santa using the following words: Tonic, Cranberries, Love, Smoked Salmon)
(100 words)
Dear Santa,
How are you? I hope it's not cold in the North Pole because I want to find my stocking over the fireplace this year. Grandma will leave you some cookies on the table but Grandpa finished the whiskey so she will leave you a Gin and Tonic instead. I tried it but I think she needs to add cranberries because it has a very bad taste. I wrote you a letter earlier. I hope you got it. Also please bring us a turkey for dinner because Grandma said she got some smoked salmon. I hate fish.
Love,
Danielle
Weekend Quickie 77 (Sunday Edition) - Excuse my French
(Write a 250 word short using the following: baby, kissing, fern, spaghetti, the feeling of being amorous)
"Where are the girls?"
"There aren't any! Not after last year!" I went into the kitchen and brought out another case of beers and threw a can at him.
"What do you mean, 'after last year'? That was great, that was!"
"How the hell would you know? You got pissed and hit on my sister!"
"I never did?"
"Oh yes, you did. You went into your old 'French' routine, being all 'amorous' and that! Starting kissing her and everything!"
"So? What's wrong with that?"
"She was breastfeeding her baby at the time!"
He shut up and drank some beer.
"Oh."
"If you think I'm gonna invite any girls over this year, you're mistaken. I didn't even mention the fern."
We both looked over at the large fern in the corner. It had seen better days.
"What about it?"
"By the morning, you were wrapped around it, whispering sweet nothings."
"What, that?"
"And then there's the spaghetti."
"What spaghetti? What about the spaghetti?"
"The spaghetti we had before the drinks. You quite happily shared it with us once again, all over the kitchen floor."
"Are you telling me I puked it all over the kitchen?"
"That and the sausages."
"Oh hell."
"Yep."
"Shit. Sorry, guy."
"You will be?because my sister's coming over in five."
The beer went all over the floor.
"But?but she's a?excuse my French?a dog!"
"Yep. And she's gonna skin your little ass!"
He was out the door in a flash. I couldn't stop laughing.
The Christmas Quickie 78 - Christmas Time
(Make a Christmas poem in the shape of a tree! Make this poem all about you and your family traditions! Use whatever words that you would like, and have fun doing it.)
It's
Christmas
New Year's Eve
Time to sit and relax
To enjoy or maybe endure
To remember the days before
The things we did, both good and bad
And
Ponder
On what will be.
95 - Hoggin' it
(Bacon, a pair of skis, a group of faceless aliens in green silver suits (first one putting hand up 'halt' or 'hi'), Takanakuy)
"Pass it over." Jeff was hogging the joint. We'd come way out here into the forest to my uncle's hut to check out our latest batch of Skunk. It was cool, it was strong.
"Okay, here you go," said Jeff, reluctantly. "This stuff is the best yet, dude, best yet."
He finally handed it over and I toked it up. Jeff was already setting up the next one and lighting it in the fire when I realised that it had gone suspiciously quiet. Too quiet.
"Can you hear that?" I asked.
"Ooo, good stuff, eh? Paranoia..."
There was a rustle in the hedgerow and four tall guys stepped out into the clearing, dressed up in silvery green outfits. Their faces were featureless.
"Please, Earthlings, don't be alarmed now," said one of them, standing in front of the others.
"What the hell!" Jeff panicked and ran into the hut, coming back out holding a broken part of a pair of skis in his hands, threatening the group. "Keep back, or I'll use it!"
I held still, these weren't our usual visitors. One of the four sided over to Jeff and gave him a sniff.
"No, O' Lord Faceless, the smell does not come from here, though there are residues within his clothing and burn holes in his shirt."
Jeff loosened his grip on the broken ski and looked down, noticing the holes.
"Oh man! This was my best shirt!"
"I think the source comes from this one, Faceless Two," said the one in front, pointing at me. He was clearly the leader of the four.
"Me?"
"Yes, you, Earthling." He sat down on the log next to mine. "Greetings, I am Lord Faceless from what you call the Centarus Supercluster, many suns from here. We were passing by and perchanced to smell such a sweet aroma that..." He reached down and picked up a bud. "Ah-ha. Comrades, I have found the source." The others gathered around and took what was left of our batch.
"Err, help yourselves...aliens?" I spluttered.
"Why, thank you, Earthling, you are most kind." I watched as he proceeded to shove a bud into the skin of his smooth face. "Oh yes, lovely."
Jeff dodged a couple of the aliens fighting over a bud like they were two Peruvian girls having it out at a Takanakuy, arms and legs flailing about. He sat down at the fire and carried on with his joint. The seated alien took it from him.
"Hey!" complained Jeff.
"Mmm, Earthling, this really does hit the spot, especially after travelling 200 trillion light years." The alien Lord Faceless toked the whole joint down to the roach through his skin.
"Well, I guess they don't teach you to pass it along back on your planet," I remarked. He ignored my statement and looked around the fire, grabbing his stomach region and making a smacking sound with no lips.
"Earthling, I think I have a serious case of the munchies. Do you happen to have any...bacon?"
96 (Winter Prelims) - Guardians of?on Second Thoughts?
(A grieving boy, growing up and growing old, an imprisoning life, an adventuresome journey)
"On sensors," squawked Yondu, his blue face searching the screens for signs of life.
"We got one, boss, three clicks away," said one of his pirate crew. With a wave, Yondu ordered them to head for the coordinates now showing up as a red flash on the map.
"What's it like? Healthy?"
"Looks like it, boss. Young, healthy, but I think it's suffering from something?can't quite work it out," replied the same crewman.
"On livefeed," ordered Yondu, and he watched as the screen filled with a crying, kneeling child. "Ah, a grieving boy, just right."
"Yes, boss. We can manipulate him easier if he's already under some emotional stress. Make him one of us," said a second pirate.
"But he'll have to suffer an imprisoning life on-board this ship until we can break him. Remember the last human? He's still in a cage on Deck 8, asking for some 'Big Mac', whatever that is," said the first.
"What? What are you saying? What right-minded youth wouldn't take up the opportunity for such an adventuresome journey into the unknown, travelling through the universe with the Ravagers, the greatest and toughest band of pirates this side of the Laniakea Cluster?" questioned Yondu, getting to his feet and studying the small, sobbing boy.
"That one on Deck 8?"
They stood together, all three in front of the screen.
"He's still asking for 'Big Mac'?" asked Yondu.
"Yes, boss, whoever he is. Wants to eat him, apparently," said the first pirate.
"Eat him? These humans are crazy." Yondu scratched his blue chin and wondered. "How long's he been down there?"
"What, this crying boy, boss?" asked the first.
"No, no, the one on Deck 8, how long's he been down there?"
"Seven years. We just can't seem to break him."
"Maybe you broke him a little too much," said the first to the second, making a 'cuckoo' gesture.
They stood in silence, still watching the screen.
"Oh."
"Not exactly growing up but growing old, for sure," mentioned the second.
"Not good," stated Yondu.
"Guess they don't make 'em like they used to, eh, boss?" said the second.
"Guess not."
The spaceship hovered over the boy who was now fully aware of their presence, standing up with his clothes flapping in the gusts from their engines.
"So boss? Do we pick this one up? Enslave him, break him and make him one of us?"
"?erm?"
"Let him become a strong, powerful member of our crew of pirates, maybe even allow him his own independence and go his own free way?"
"?erm?"
"And who knows? Maybe one day he, and he alone will be the one who unites a small unlikely band of warriors to defeat the greatest evil the universe has ever seen!"
"?erm?"
"Boss? Well? Shall we take him?"
"No. Close livefeed. Head for Zirconium 6. I fancy some Geevon steaks," said Yondu, sitting down and examining his nails. "And take this planet off our charts. It's a complete waste of space."
"Yes, boss."
Weekend Quickie 79 - You can have the Mum
(Double Trouble, love, Snickers, the feeling of being satisfied. 150 words)
Betty finished her Snickers and dropped the wrapper on the carpet.
"Pick that up!" shouted her twin, Claudia.
"No."
"I'll tell Mum what you did with that perfume."
Betty picked up the wrapper and walked over to the bin.
"Are you satisfied now?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Why can't you be more like that twin in 'Double Trouble'?"
"What? Have a Dad who has tons of money and lives in the city?"
"No, I'll have the Dad, you can have the Mum, the one who lives in the country in absolute poverty!"
"You can have the Mum!"
"No, you!"
"No, you!"
They stuck their tongues out at each other. Their mother entered the room.
"I see there's no love lost between you two. What's the problem?"
"She can have the Mum, I want the Dad!" sulked Betty, crossing her arms.
"Right, no TV for a week!" said their mother, storming out.
Weekend Quickie 80 (Sunday edition) - New Year's Resolutions
(Write a New Year's Resolution with the following words: Turkey neck, George W. Bush, The Matrix, candy, the feeling of being overwhelmed.)
This year...
I will wear only Turtlenecks to hide my turkey neck.
I will promise not to throw any more darts at the George W. Bush poster in the basement.
I will try not to get overwhelmed with guilt whenever I eat a ton of candy.
I will stop saying 'The Matrix' is the greatest movie ever made because it's clearly 'Guardians of the Galaxy'.
97 - Winter Solstice Open -Not so Neighborly
(1968 Elvis Presley Comeback Special, someone mowing/cutting grass, a note left on a car, argyle socks)
"What's the matter, dear?" asked Doris, entering the lounge.
"The matter? Can't you hear it?" Bob pointed out to the backyard.
"Oh, the neighbor."
"Yes, the neighbor!"
"Well, he has the right to mow his lawn..."
"At 2am in the morning?"
Doris grabbed her duster and busied herself with the mantelpiece.
"You were a bit loud with that music the other night, dear. Not everyone is an Elvis fan."
"A bit loud?"
"He even left a note on your car..."
"Don't talk to me about that note!" Bob paced up and down on his tiger skin rug.
"...though I think 'country' is spelled with an 'ou'..."
"But he started it! He cut my hedge!"
"You put nails on his drive, dear."
"And he set fire to my postbox!"
"You can't prove that."
The sound of the Flymo resonated throughout the house.
"I've had enough of this, where's Elvis?"
"Please, dear, no."
Bob took out his three-disc deluxe edition box set of 'Elvis: The '68 Comeback Special' and loaded a DVD, turning up the volume on the television as it came to life. He sat there in utter disbelief.
"What the?!"
On the screen wasn't the fantastic hip-swaying undisputed King of Rock 'n' Roll, bashing out 'Trouble/Guitar Man', but coverage of an old US golf Open focusing on a strangely dressed man.
"What the heck is this?"
Doris paused in her dusting and looked over at the screen.
"Looks like Payne Stewart, dear. I always loved his argyle socks."
"But...how...?" He took out the DVD and looked at it. "This is a sticker! Someone messed with my DVDs! Did you...?"
"No, dear, I wouldn't dream of touching...oh."
"What?"
"The neighbor."
"What!"
"Remember when he did that drilling last Sunday?"
"How can I forget! He went on until midnight!"
"Well, he came over the other day to check if he'd done any damage. I thought that was nice of him..."
"You let him in?"
"Sorry."
"This means war!"
With the sound of the neighbor's Flymo outside still breaking the beautiful silence of the night, Bob ran over to his gun rack and grabbed his loaded pump action Winchester.
"I'm gonna blow that damn thing to kingdom come!"
"You're not going all Islamic on me now, are you, dear? You must admit, he gets 10 out of 10 for ingenuity, copying labels like that."
"Ingenuity? Ingenuity!" Bob grit his teeth and paused in sudden reflection. "What happened?" he demanded. "Everything was fine until I went to that Las Vegas Elvis Fest. Then all hell broke loose! Did you do anything while...?"
"No dear, just a small Tupperware party with the girls from the bridge club."
"And then what...?" The Flymo hit a tough bit of grass and screamed in the darkness. Bob flew out of the French windows, screaming blue murder.
Weekend Quickie 79 (81) - Egos
(A Marvel Superhero, a Sandstorm, Oreo Cookies, the feeling of being a stud. 150 words)
A blast of sand covered Pepper Potts as she sunbathed on the beach with the creme de la creme of society.
"Tony!"
Ironman had landed. Actually, he'd sunk a few centimetres into the soft sand.
"Nice place. Catching some rays?"
Pepper peeked at him over the top of her sunglasses. Tony looked around, admiring the eye candy.
"Ooo, all those luscious eyes on me, makes me feel like some kind of stud. I like that."
He'd always been a pig. Pepper put her book down and glared into the eyes of his helmet.
"Wow, with that look you could contend with Torch."
"Well, 'stud', did you get me those Oreo cookies I asked for?"
"Oh, erm, sorry, I forgot. Between battling with Doctor Doom and outfoxing Hypnotia, I completely forgot about them."
"So?"
"I'll go get some now." He flew off towards the shops, creating a sandstorm on the beach.
Weekend Quickie (Sunday Edition) 80 (82) - Catnipped Puss
(The song "I like them Big and Chunky", a donkey, one of the Iron Writers, a cat. 150 Words)
"I like them big, I like the chunky," sang Puss, sliding over to Donkey.
"You been taking that catnip again, Puss?" Donkey did his best to move away but there wasn't much space left on the
sofa as Tony Jaeger had already taken up most of it after passing out on his latest batch of mushrooms. His snoring reverberated through Donkey's ears.
"I like them big, I like them plumpy," continued Puss.
"I don't like the sound of them dumplings!" Donkey escaped from the clutch of his comrade's Nepeta cataria-induced state and cantered out of the room. He turned and watched from behind the door.
"Ah-ha, I see another sexy, succulent beast who has as yet to enjoy my feverous lust and infatuation," purred Puss, moving over to the sleeping Tony.
"More like flatuation! Leave the man, alone, Puss! He ain't done nothin' to you!" screamed Donkey.
98 - Poison
(Botticelli game, long hair, Tiger lily, Steampunk goggles)
"Did you paint a picture of Venus rising?" asked Valerie, smiling from ear to ear. A few tokes and she was high. Once you got used to the stench of his mother's cat, Beef's kitchen was warm and inviting.
"You always start with the archetypal question, don't you?" Beef sat there at the table, his long hair hiding his actions.
"Wrong answer. You're meant to say?"
"I know what I'm meant to say. No, I am not Sandro Botticelli." He was tinkering with something but Valerie couldn't see what.
"Are you?? This is boring, you need more people to play this game. Besides, I prefer Vermicelli."
"Food, you're always hungry, too. Do you know how predicatable you are?"
"I'll give you predictable!" Valerie smacked him one across the top of his head.
"Predicatable."
"I am not!" She ignored him until she was sucking roach. "What are you doing?" she asked as she destroyed the cardboard filter in the ashtray. Beef stopped what he was doing and lifted his head to reveal aomng other things, a wonderful bunch of spotty orange flowers. "Ooo, they're nice. Are they for me?"
"No, they are not." He busied himself with chopping up some of the flowers on a board.
"What are you doing? You're destroying those!"
"They're dead already." He continued to chop more.
"What are they? Aren't they some kind of lilly?"
"Tiger lily."
Beef's mother came in and Beef h?d something under his arm and covered the flowers with his hair.
"Have you fed Alonzo, yet?" She was referring to the cat.