He ignored his revulsion and sliced up the roast beast,
Procrastinating with the best of the worst,
He laughed, he joked, he quenched their thirst,
By commenting on all photos and quotes and desires,
He kept everyone happy, no anger, no fires.
"Though I'll tell ya one thing," he mumbled with grins,
"I'll stop when anyone mentions those damn 5 gold rings!
'Cause one thing I hate more than all,
Is those 12 bloody days and those birds that call!"
(Of course, totally UNTRUE! Brian likes to procrastinate with the worst...sorry, the best of us :-))
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 6 - ELF!
(Your story should center around "Buddy the Elf", spaghetti with maple syrup, six geese a laying, lingerie, and this all should be taking place during a zombie apocalypse. 500 words)
"Are you sure you don't want some...candy?" asked the food to the others around the table. "You know, elves have four main food groups: candy, candy cane..."
"Urgh!" Zog the zombie stood up and moved his arms about. This food talked too much. Zog ripped off another piece.
"Ouch! You should try spaghetti with maple syrup, now there's a good food."
"Urgh!" He pointed to Tark to take off the food's head but no matter how hard he tried, it wouldn't budge.
"Now my scarf is too small, thank you, thank you very much. You are a cotton-headed ninnymoggins!" shouted the food, smiling at Jarg the zombie girl, who was eating a finger. "Hi, what's your name? Mine's Buddy. I'm an elf. I guess you're a zombie, right?"
"Urgh!" The food was now hitting on Zog's girl!
"That's some nice lingerie you're wearing there. Did you get it from Macy's?"
That was it. Zog pulled on the right leg and it ripped off.
"Ouch! Son of a nutcracker!"
It went quiet for a while. Zog and his mates finally had some peace to eat their latest find. Until...
"I like to sing, though. 'On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me a partridge in a pear tree....ouch! On the second day of...ouch!..."
Noise or no noise, Zog was going to finish his meal. The food went on and on...and on....
"...my true love sent to me six Geese-a-Laying, five gold rings! Four...ouch!...calling birds, three French...ouch!"
"Urgh!"
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 7 - Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer!
(Rudolph, reindeer games, Abominable Snowman, Seven Swans a Swimming. 400 Words)
"You can shove them reindeer games up your?"
"Rudolph! You're?you're slushed!" screamed Hermey.
"Where the hell do ya think I got this nose from, eh? Playing wid the misfit toys? Talking of which, where's that jack-in-the-box? I'd like to give him one right on the smacker!" Rudolph put up his front hoofs as fists and staggering around the North Pole. He relieved himself on it.
"Rudolph! What will Santa say?" Hermey tried to pull Rudolph off the Comet and Blitzen full-size Christmas decoration without much success.
"Who cares?" Rudolph galloped away and ran into the 12 Days of Christmas parade practicing their moves and music. The seven swams a swimming scattered in his wake, but unfortunately the partridge lost his pear tree. A siren screeched overhead and Hermey found himself in the square alone with only drunk Rudolph. The place was silent. Then the ground began to shake.
"Rudolph? I don't think?"
"Arh, shut up!"
At first, all they could see was a fat man in a lumberjack shirt but then 'it' appeared.
"Hello, there. My name's Yukon Cornelius and this here is my pet, the Abominable Snowman."
Rudolph gulped.
"That's the last time I mix my whiskeys with eggnog."
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 8 - Bad Santa
(Tattoos, Eight maids a milking, handcuffs, coal. 400 words)
"Ah, those were the days, I had eight maids a milking, and boy were they milking!"
"Santa? Can I tell you what I want now?" The fat spotty boy was breaking his knee.
"Hang on a minute." He finished the rum and coke and pissed into the empty refill. A line of mothers with their children squarked in disapproval. "What? They don't give piss breaks here, alright? If ya gotta go, ya gotta go!" He put the cup down and wiped his hand on his Santa costume. "Now kid, what was that?"
"I'd like some tattoos."
"Tattoos? Kid, that's such a bad idea, you have them for life!"
"I don't care! I want some!"
"Look, kid, if ya don't mind having some girl's name tattooed on yer behind?" He mooned the queue. "?Then I guess that's okay. Oh good, less business. Might get a break."
Two policeman came over as the queue disappeared back into the mall.
"Excuse me, sir?Santa, but we're gonna hafta bring you in."
"Looks like I'm on the naughty list."
A pair of handcuffs clicked over his wrists and the policemen led him away from Santa's Grotto.
"Don't tell me, I'll be getting coal this year?"
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 9 - White Christmas!
(War, Nine ladies dancing, the song White Christmas. 250 words)
'Bataan'
"For a drop of water?" They held him up but he knew they were suffering too. The Phillipine jungle wasn't anything like the Bronx and this march was no parade.
"Come on, Davis, we've gotta make it, all of us." His buddies Steve and Hess settled him on their shoulders again as they watched some Japanese soldiers bashing in the brains of some Filipino soldiers, finishing them off with the cold steel of their bayonets.
"Oh guys, remember the Christmas do? So much drink, so little time to drink it."
"Hell, stop thinking about drink. Think about?about girls, Davis. Girls. How many danced with you that night?" Hess was always going on about girls.
"Oh yeah, that was good night. They put on 'White Christmas' and everyone danced. How many? Nine, nine ladies dancing with me, little ol' me."
"Ladies, that's kinda stretching it, eh, Davis? Eh?"
They laughed but Steve slipped in the mud made by a hundred thousand footprints. Davis fell to the ground and was covered from head to foot. A Japanese soldier ran over and poked him with his rifle.
"Oki nasai anata taidana Amerika no inu!"
"You can say that again," coughed Davis.
Steve and Hess picked him up again and they both received the butt of the soldier's gun.
"Okiru!"
"I guess he wants you to get up by yourself, Davis," sighed Hess.
"Well, tell him it ain't happening! This mud is so cool." He squirmed around like a happy little pig. "Oink, oink!"
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 10 - National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation!
(Christmas Lights, Shitter's full!, 10 Lords a leaping!, a fried cat, Christie Brinkley
and 'Mele Kalikimaka' (Hawaiian Christmas song) 500 words.)
The christmas lights Larry picked up at the market popped and fizzled, bursting into flame and turning the 2-foot excuse of a christmas tree into a burnt stick. It fell off its perch on the rickety bookshelf, the lights still flickering and sparking, and dropped onto his sleeping cat. The smell of fried cat filled the tiny flat. Tyler opened the door to the bathroom and a different fragrance took over.
"Sorry 'bout that. Must've been the turkey. Shitter was full when I'd finished."
"Urgh, Tyler, did you have to go into details? And close that door!"
We sat there in the stench. Larry wouldn't open a window because he didn't want to light the gas heater again, paranoid he'd die of fumes. If something didn't happen soon, they'd find three corpses sitting on flea-ridden armchairs. Tyler's phone went off with a christmasy tone. As he picked up the call, he sang the lyrics.
"...Ten lords a leaping, nine ladies dancing...hello?"
"Shitty tone," muttered Larry.
"Okay
, will do." Tyler put it down. "What's your problem, Larry?"
"Christmas tones now, is it? What'll it be next? Going from door to door, carol singing?" Larry turned on the TV.
We all looked at each other. Not such a bad idea.
"I've got a few, actually. 'Jingle Bells', 'Holy Night' and even 'Mele Kalikimaka', a Hawaiian Christmas song." He played a few bars. Our eyes moved to the TV as Christie Brinkley jumped into a pool.
"Why wasn't that in my Christmas stocking?"
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 11 - Home Alone
(Two robbers, the song "Rockin around the Christmas Tree", a stolen toothbrush, Eleven Pipers Piping. As many or as few words as you want?)
"Where did you get that scar, Marc? 'Home Alone 3'?" asked Harry, shivering in the cold.
"We weren't in that one, Harry. We were stars back then, remember? We asked for too much."
"Oh yeah." They squashed their faces on the window, watching the TV inside blasting out 'Rockin around the Christmas Tree'. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Where did you get the scar?"
"In the navy."
"I didn't know you were in the navy."
"I was thrown out."
"Why?"
"A toothbrush. Someone stole the captain's toothbrush."
"You were thrown out because of a stolen toothbrush?"
Harry wrapped his coat around tighter as the snow continued to fall.
"No, I was thrown out because I knocked over eleven pipers piping when the captain came aboard."
"What?"
"I was running after the guy who stole the toothbrush."
The little boy who lived in the house walked into the room with a bowl of popcorn.
"That's justice for ya."
The boy spotted them, dropped the bowl, made a face like 'The Scream' and ran out of the room.
"Oh no, here we go again. Are you ready, Marv?"
"Eh?" Marv's nose was frozen onto the windowpane.
"Are you ready? Looks like 'Home Alone 5' is up."
"Oh no! Not again! Haven't the cinema audiences been hurt enough!"
Harry pulled on Marv and they flew back into the snowy garden.
"Apparently not. At least that's what it says in my contract. Besides, this one's going straight to video. Come on, we've gotta get that brat."
Twelve Days of Christmas Iron Writer Style Day 12 - The Nightmare before Christmas.
(A Danny Elfman Song, 12 drummers drumming, Tim Burton, a large moon. No word limit)
To a drumroll of twelve drummers drumming over the song 'Jack's Lament' from 'The Nightmare before Christmas', with a large moon backdrop of a sinister night in the background, Tim Burton walked on to mass applause.
"Oh no," cried a critic. "Not another dire horror vehicle for Johnny Depp?come back, Vincent Price, all is forgiven!"
93 - Pleasure before business
(Soylent Beige (drink), tap dance shoes, steampunk tiger, half a can of flat Dr. Pepper)
She threw her tap dancing shoes under the table and plumped herself down.
"Phew, that was some practise," she said, brushing her hair over her shoulder.
"Why do you bother with that? Look at this place, it's going down." The news was on over the bar, more demonstrations about taxes.
"You still have to do stuff. What are you drinking?"
I looked at my half can of flat Dr. Pepper. It didn't have its usual effect on me tonight, the black cherry 'almost medicine' taste hadn't hit its mark.
"Anything, really. Just not alcohol, my stomach can't handle it at the moment."
"Another one of those days, huh?"
"Yeah."
"I've got what you asked for." She pulled out something heavy wrapped up in an ornate scarf.
"It...it isn't is it? You finally made it?"
"Yes." Hidden beneath the scarf was a steampunk tiger sculpture. "You wanna see it?"
"Hell, yes!"
"Wait a minute, I need a drink." She whipped out a large container of light green coloured liquid.
"Urgh, what is that? Some fruit drink?"
"You wanna try it?"
"It's not another of your concoctions, is it? I remember the last one, I had to pay for the cleanup afterwards." She laughed and took a while to compose herself.
"No, no, no. This is Soylent Beige."
The newsreporter's voice rang threw the silence, droning on about police brutality and corrupt state officials.
"Don't you mean Soylent Green? And isn't that a fictional food tablet created from dead humans in that movie? It's not a drink."
She asked for two glasses from the bar and although it was against the rules, the barman allowed her to pour. They all let her do what she wished, she had the face for it.
"That's 'green', this is 'beige'. It's connected to the book rather than the movie."
"What's in it?" The froth in my glass didn't look appetising.
"What isn't in it? Vitimins A,C,D,E, K, B6, Calcium, Iron, protein, Zinc, Magnesium?the list is endless. It's good for you."
"Then I think I'll pass. Anything 'good for you' usually isn't nice."
"You've got to try it."
After giving a short stern look which melted away in front of her smile, I picked up the glass and downed a few gulps. She did the same. I wish I hadn't.
"Yuck. Well, it tastes like dishwater."
"How do you know what that tastes like? Have you drunk dishwater?"
She looked so disappointed.
"I would imagine dishwater tastes like this, if I ever had to try it. At best, it's bland, but then as I said before, anything that's 'good for you'?"
"Yes?"
"?isn't nice."
"I like it. It's rich and creamy?and so 'good for you'."
"Well, 'good for you'." I pushed it away and she took my glass, pouring the rest of its contents back into her container. She then slid the statue over to me.
"1000 dollars."
"What? We agreed on 500!"
"That was before you insulted my favourite drink."
Next time, business before pleasure.
Weekend Quickie 75 - Bend over
(A nude waiter, $75.00, chipmunk, the feeling of amusement. 150 Words)
"How much?" Tracy spat out her last gulp of Coca-Cola.
"75 dollars, madam." The nude waiter, wearing nothing but a cheesey smile and a large white napkin on his arm, stood over us.
"But we only had one drink each!"
"Yes, madam, but this is an exclusive christmas party, invitation only."
"Invitation only? The whole district's in here!"
The place was full of women, including the Sisters of Mercy from the nearby nunnery, giggling at the other waiters walking past.
"They all got invites, madam."
"But 75 dollars?"
The nude waiter came in closer to our faces.
"Didn't you get a 'feeling of amusement' when the Mayor and his bodyguards did a striptease to a rendition of Alvin and the Chipmunks 'Christmas don't be late'?" He stood up again, grinning.
"Not as much as when you bent down and picked up that fork!" laughed Daphne, and the whole table erupted.
94 - Fett & Nord
(Han Solo refrigerator, a jury summons, a tame dinosaur, the story must begin OR end with: "Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?")
"Will you take me away and will you make me your wife?"
"What?" spat Boba.
"That's what she said, man, believe it or leave it." Calo took a swig from his Alderaan beer.
"Hell, it's not even grammatically correct."
"Like you'd know, eh, Mr. Self-educated Man."
"So, what did you tell her?" asked Boba.
"What d'ya think? Don't mix business with pleasure, that's what I say." Calo downed the last of his drink and looked over to Han, encased in Carbonite. "Love your fridge."
"Yeah, Vader loaned me Han for a while. Haven't told him I cut the slab u
p for the freezer door, yet."
"I'm sure he'll be OK with that." Calo filled up his glass from the jug on the table.
"Yeah. He can put him back together if he wants to."
Calo shook his head.
"Err, no, I don't think there's any way to do that. He's in two pieces now."
Boba chocked on his drink, coughing.
"Ooops. Got any superglue?"
"Ha! Well, I think it's fitting we're emptying Han's last case of beer."
"Yeah, all 'three' of us together, eh?"
They clinked glasses and gulped more down. Loh-loh, Boba's tame dinosaur therapod from Tiss'shal came running into the room.
"What you want, boy? Eh? Eh? What'cha want? Stomach rub, eh? Come here, boy, come here."
Boba gripped his pet's head and the beast purred with pleasure.
"You wanna play ball, yeah? Yeah?"
Loh-loh suddenly stepped back and after some effort vomited up a small flying robotic dispatcher.
"Did it drink some of this beer? Han might have liked it but I prefer Gamorrean."
"Good boy, good boy." Boba opened Han's lower regions and threw Loh-loh a severed arm, which it caught in its teeth. With a screech of happiness, it ran out of the room.
"Mes?message for Calo Nord," spluttered the robot.
"For me? Cool?" Calo reached over and took the disc from the dispatcher's opened receptacle. He didn't look happy.
"What's the problem?" asked Boba as Calo read the message.
"Jury summons."
Boba's communicator bleeped and he flipped it open.
"The Court of Justice wants me to sit in?" Calo stopped when he saw his colleague's face turn white. "What is it?"
"Oh shit!" He threw it over to Calo. "Take it for me, will ya?"
"Sure." He pressed receive and a small hologram of Darth Vader appeared.
"Who am I addressing? Is that Calo Nord?" shouted an angry black 4 inch holographic figure.
"Err, no?"
"Yes, it is!" Vader turned around to see Boba in the the other chair. "You! Give me back Han Solo!"
"But you said I could?"
"I said nothing! Give me back?wha?what have you done?" Vader pointed to Boba's refridgerator door.
Boba grabbed his communicator from Calo and whistled. Lol-lol came running in, panting.