You will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem beginning with the sentence below. You will add comments to this post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your story. You may join in at any time prior to the deadline. You will display your story as a post on your own blog. You will be done by Monday 12:00 Noon CST.
This week's sentence is She was suddenly gripped by...
Since Randal sez, and I do everything Randal tells me to do (he is my campaign manager and that's why I pay him the big bucks), here goes nothing:
She was suddenly gripped by an insane urge to giggle. The staff meeting was ridiculous, and the boss was so full of his own self-importance that she could not even look at him. He was short, and he had a bad habit of putting his hand in his lapel just like pictures of Napoleon. She could not look at him. He had been droning on about all the awards and accolades he'd won that year, how important he was, and how terrible the attitude was in the office so he'd won those awards on his own accord, without team support, blah blah blah. The agent sitting next to her passed a note that said "He's speaking Urdu," and that's when it hit her. She bit her tongue. She put her hand over her nose, she squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing helped. She just had to get up and run to the ladies room, and that would mean he'd scream at her for at least a half an hour about her rudeness. But if she laughed in front of the entire staff, that would have been worse. She timed it, and ran out the door. She knew she'd have to quit this job, sooner rather than later. She heard his whiny voice, "And where do you think you're going, Ms. Know-it-all?" "Bathroom, sir," came her choked reply. "Emergency."
The entire staff cracked up at that. It was code for "I can't take your droning any longer, you self-absorbed twit." She was really going to get it, oh, well.
14 comments:
You should pay me more big bucks for making me see naked man ass. That said, you did in fact listen to me when I said you should sexify your blog.
Well, off to find naked woman ass.
Oh, since we're on the subject of scary things, like ever listening to me about anything, has Napoleon stopped his bullshit campaign? Do you want us to call people who know people?
LOL... I suspect this may not all be fiction.
Sounds like a fun exercise.
Also, kudos for your "seasonal decoration art" here.....damn, you are festive!
Randal, Napoleon did stop his campaign because I called someone who knows people. Mr. Lawyer sent a letter. That's all she wrote.
Fran, it is all fiction. I never once sat in the main office for a staff meeting. Really. And wasn't that a nice pumpkin?
Ha! Love it! The best writing comes from our own experiences, no?
You know the best stories come when you write what you know... ;^)
dcup, absolutely. However, I plead innocent until proven guilty.
Spartacus, I know that I write, does that count?
I have never participated in any of these writing exercises since I am opposed to sexercise, I mean exercise of any kind. But I did spend quite a bit of time starting at the (unfortunately) painted backside of this glistening--sorry, I had to move the comments thingy as it was impeeding my view--manflesh. I'd do that. I mean I'd do that meme by any other name is still a meme. You're on.
Utah, I wonder if that's a permanent tatoo on that backside!
Oh I hope not. I keep coming back to gaze at it. Next time I'll bring a little soap and water and see if it washes off.
Utah, I tried soap and water. It's still there.
I used to look like that pumpkin guy when I was younger.
Now I just look like a pumpkin.
LOL and here I thought you were serious over here, hehehe...my butt was NEVER that round and sweet! Crap....
I can't wash it off either and I tried Ajax and oven cleaner, I tried so hard...
yay!
Also, that wax job looks painful.
Hmmmm... nice ass. He's no Ian McShane, though. Hiya, Diva Jood.
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