Do Something With These Words...

[Bishop]

Love it, Panc. Great work!

"That is... interesting," Richard stared at the creatures, absolutely floored by what he was seeing. Before him stood dozens--perhaps hundreds--of them down in the valley, running about on their hooves, thundering the grassy hillside in chaos.

"I made them myself," Dr. Cholera said, "This way, people will think good things when they hear the name Cholera!"

"They're... Unicorns..." Richard said, giving the man an incredulous eye. He stared at him for only a second, before being forced to look back at them. They were unicorns, that was true. A whole race of them. But not as Richard had imagined. They had umbrellas attached to their horns, and wore black unitards over their bodies and limbs. "Why the... accessories?"

"Well, in order to make it more fun," Dr. Cholera smiled and pressed a button on his remote, and a wave of oily liquid poured from the heavens and doused the unicorns, all but their heads.

"What... why...?" Richard watched as the unicorns began slipping and sliding about, bumping into one another and all around being rambunctious.

"Get the camera," Dr. Cholera said, "This, my boy... is history. I'll call it... Ubiquitous Amounts Of Unctuous Unicorns Bearing Umbrellas and Unitards. Part II."

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Next words:

Foot
Clock
Assault
Mariachi
Cholera (Challenge for bonus points: Fulfill Dr. Cholera's dream... use this word in a positive way!)

[T.S.Bowman]

"Paging Dr. Cholera." The voice over the intercom grated on what seemed to be his last nerve. "Dr. Cholera, to the E.R. stat!"

Upon reaching the Emergency Room, he looked to the on duty nurse and said "What seems to be such an urgent problem that I had to stop in the middle of my lunch break?"

"Well, Dr. the man in room three is a part of a Mariachi band who, witnesses say, irritated a man while playing on a street corner."

"Yes, yes. Get to the point" the doctor said irritably. "What are his injuries?"

The nurse rolled her eyes in exasperation. "It would seem that he has someone's foot planted firmly in his behind, Doctor."

"That's a new one. Here I thought I had seen everything."

"Not yet, Doctor. There is also a second member of the band who was assaulted when he got clocked in the jaw while trying to intervene. It's not broken, so we figured you could triage the band leader before seeing his partner."

The good doctor nodded his approval. "Nicely done nurse. My apologies for being so rude a moment ago."

The nurse, having gotten used to the doctor's outbursts, smiled and said "No problem, doctor."

"Where are the other members of the band?"

"In the waiting room. We couldn't allow them back here."

"Oh to hell with it" Dr. Cholera replied. "Bring them on back. We may as well have some music while I try to remove the foot."

___________________________________________

Next set of words

Fish

Basket

Rose

Hair

Mud

*note* I typed out my little story in about 5 minutes, then told my girlfriend I needed 5 more words. LOL

[Bishop]

Why do I get the feeling Dr. Cholera will now be a recurring character in these?

[T.S.Bowman]

Why do I get the feeling Dr. Cholera will now be a recurring character in these?

He most likely will be when I decide to give it another shot. LOL

[Kepharel]

No real story... just an exercise in descriptive narrative so folks aren't going to get much out of it


----------------------------------

Berwyn stood in the middle of the narrow country lane, feeling the heat of a midsummer sun beat down on his head and the softening, now spongy, tarmac beneath his feet. He was tired and the air, radiating and shimmering above the floor was slowly sapping his reserves of energy. The tall hawthorn hedgerows either side gave his situation a claustrophobic feel. Foxgloves with their short, tubular, cerise flowers, like fat little fingers, seemed to lean outwards and towards him in a gesture of threat. The metal frame of his bike, that he could now only push, due to his exhaustion,was almost too hot to touch, and the once Ice cold bottle of lemonade in the basket on the handlebars had long since succumbed to the summer sun, and could no longer offer any respite.


Running his hands through his sweat matted hair he squinted into the distance, and saw ahead of him what might be a sanctuary from his torment in the shape of a large Horse Chestnut tree, branches stretching out across the road almost to the thatched roof of a house opposite. It was enough to give him the impetus to make the next step, and the next, until he found himself under the dappled shade of the tree. Letting the bike fall from his exhausted hands he almost collapsed into the cool green grass and stared thankfully up into the branches of the tree above him and beyond into the cobalt blue of the sky. As his senses returned, Berwyn heard the liquid tinkle of a stream, and saw that it run in front, and parallel to the hedge, a colony of Hart's Tongue ferns, and a solitary Dog Rose beyond.


In a flash he removed his shoes and socks, grabbed the lemonade bottle from the bike, and emptied it. First, dipping the, now empty, bottle into the stream, he held it until the cool water had filled to the brim. Next, he buried his feet in the delicious coolness of the stream, pushing and squishing his toes under the mud and sand bed. Putting the bottle to his lips, he took a draft of the sweetest tasting water into his parched mouth, and another and another, until he was finally sated. As he watched some nearby fish upstream of him, he had only to stretch out his hand to pick a single Dog rose; twirling the flower by the stem..... and I could go on and on etc etc.

cage

glove

dandelion

meringue

knot

[Paulbee]

Dr Collar glanced over at the cage where the combat budgie, Septimus Bloodspilla, was ripping a glove apart. The breeding experiment had failed, mused the doctor as he sipped the dandelion tea. Septimus was not supposed to try and help himself to a finger. Collar helped himself to another meringue. He was about to decide how to kill the bird, when he saw it tie a knot in one of the glove fingers. Collar sniffed, intelligent, short-tempered and psychotic? Traits common to most politicians of his acquaintance. Perhaps there was a market for his budgies after all.

Serendipity

Muscular

Nasal

Marine

Duplicity

[Kepharel]

Serendipity Evans adjusted his Non-Conformist Presbyterian Dog’s Collar in a way that seemed to suggest to his congregation that there may be an Achilles heel in his faith. Within the corrugated confines of the Tabernacle in which they were all seated they had just heard him say that striped shrouds should be encouraged as they were a genuine attempt to ‘give god a giggle’. He knew that the alliteration, though meant in jest, had gone too far this time, and he was on borrowed time.

Edith Evans (no relation) felt she should stand up on behalf of the whole congregation. In the most solemn voice she could manage she began.

“Pastor, this has gone too far.”

The congregation nodded, and Serendipity Evans began to wilt. Fear etched his face; even his cultured, muscular handlebar moustache began to sag disconcertedly. In the small window of silent opportunity Edith produced her nasal spray from within her handbag, knowing her next words should be clear and concise if they were ever to rid themselves of this Pastor’s attempts at levity.

“Why ever would you think god has a sense of humour? The very thought is ridiculous. Good gracious, God gave, graciously, Gavin Goodriches gonads a golden opportunity…..”

Serendipity Evans smirk heralded a force ten gale of laughter that echoed around the Tabernacle. He knew Gavin, a marine who had gone ‘native’ while on duty in Uzbekistan and fathered many little expatriates due to the duplicity of The Merthyr Mawr Family Planning clinic. Their botched ‘snip’, subsequently covered up, was the real reason behind the fruitful proliferation of little Goodriches.

hero
melanoma
whisky
solitude
wristband

[T.S.Bowman]

He had had a hero, once. When the diagnosis (melanoma oh my God how could it be cancer) came he had looked to the man who's name was synonymous with the words fighter, champion, survivor. He had bought the wristband. He had bought it all.

But now, he sits in solitude. Wife, gone. She couldn't handle the strain. Children, avoiding him because they don't want to watch him "suffer." Don't they know that he is suffering all the more because they won't visit him?

Now, he sits. His only solace a bottle of cheap whiskey. He holds on to that bottle for dear life. He knows he doesn't have much time left. He is going to call his daughter tomorrow. He wants to see his grandchildren. He'll go so far as to beg her if he has to.

But tonight, he sits. Alone.

__________________________________________

Thai

monkey

efficiency

Mario

scalding

[T.S.Bowman]

Really? Was the last bit I wrote so depressing that no one can find it within themselves to write something?? LOL

[thepancreas11]

Dr. Cholera looked up from his Thai food and smiled at Claire with a piece of spinach caught between his teeth. "Dear, you do look marvelous."

Claire's scalding hot gaze would have burned through a less oblivious man. As it was, Dr. Cholera's gaping smiled did not dim in the slightest. "I'm here because you're paying me, Mario."

"Please, call me Dr. Cholera," he said, raising his eyebrows. "We're in a fancy place, Claire. Best Thai food in the Tri-State area. It makes me feel more important, and please, no more mention of the payment. I want this to seem like a torrid affair."

"Can't be that good," Claire muttered, under her breath. "Where's the food?" she said louder. "I'd expect a little better efficiency out of the finest Thai restaurant in the Tri-State area."

Mario Cholera shrugged, licking his lips. "The best things take some time, my dear. Sweet romances, for example."

"Can it be a sweet romance if I'm on the clock?"

Dr. Cholera leaned in close, his hot breath making her retreat but not fast enough to avoid him grabbing her wrist. "It can be if you let it, my little love monkey."

NEXT WORDS:
usurp

rambunctious

halved

gargle

tuxedo