Creative Copy Challenge #101

Today we have Carol Tice choosing the words for our challenge. She’s another nominee for the 2010 Top 10 Blogs For Writers Contest. Show her some love.

BET YOU CAN’T do this writing prompt. Take the 10 random words below and, in the comments, crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story tying all of them together! And remember: after (if) you finish, highlight your words and click the bold button to make them stand out and help you determine if you forgot any words. (If you’ve missed previous writing prompts, we BET YOU CAN’T do those, either.)

  1. Unwieldy – too heavy, large, or awkwardly shaped to be easily handled
  2. Sidelong – Directed to one side; sideways: a sidelong glance.
  3. Graphic
  4. Tushie
  5. Wilderness
  6. Slanting
  7. Gravitate
  8. Snarky  – Rudely sarcastic or disrespectful; snide.
  9. Clueless
  10. Nanobot

NOTE: Don’t copy and paste from MS Word. Use a program like notepad that removes formatting or just type in the comment field itself. Also, finish your submission, THEN bold the words. Thanks. (And don’t forget to tweet this and share it with your friends.)

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Resources you should check out:
Thesis: Best Damn Theme on the Web
Collective Ink Well: Personalize Your Thesis Theme
Third Tribe Marketing: Marketing done the right way
Story Structure Demystified: Best damn writing book out there

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26 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #101”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    It was an unwieldy sickness, one of sidelong heaves and graphic vomits.

    Damn stomach flu nanobots.

    “Can’t sit on your tushie feeling sorry for your pathetic, prostrate self. The CCC is waiting. Post another bleepin’ challenge.”

    But how, in the midsts of a wilderness of pain and slanting reality, my body gravitating toward pain relief and sleep.

    “Oh, you poor, little man,” the snarky voice continued, clueless to my ceaseless agony.
     
     
    “““““““““““`
    I’m at home with the kids today, so I’ll comment when I can later.

  2. Cathy Miller says:

    @Shane-such dedication-feel better soon!

  3. Cathy Miller says:

    Grunting with effort, Dave lifted the unwieldy mass up on the metal table, as it whined in a loud protest. Dave shot a quick, sidelong glance at the door, fearing he left it open. He sighed in relief at the sight of the closed door, the lock firmly turned to the right.

    Dave shuddered with the graphic image of his thoroughly-chewed tushie if he was found here. He read that the Unabomber’s place was for sale in the wilderness. Maybe that would have been a better choice. The morgue certainly did not offer the most calming ambiance.

    Nervously slanting a look at the next table with the dead body, Dave prayed it wouldn’t decide to gravitate to life with a snarky remark about being loud enough to raise the dead.

    He had gone to great lengths to keep everyone else clueless about his latest project. He did not answer his phone, he dropped out of the blogosphere, and he only worked on his project in the wee hours of the morning – another definite creep factor for his current location.

    But, soon he would reveal all – his life’s blood, sweat and tears. He would present the HAL2011, every sweet, nanobot unit of intelligence. It would change the world. Imagine – a robot that turns words into money – genius!

  4. Shenee says:

    This is what happens when you constantly ignore things. Things get very literal.
     
    That is how Anna and Paul Giess found themselves trying to figure out how to remove an actual elephant from their living room. They were clueless as to how it happened. And they weren’t sure what to do with it. When they saw it, the elephant, Anna gave her husband a sidelong glance. And he felt it, right where his front pocket sits on his shirt.
    She was snarky about it. Paul, what the hell? She said. He didn’t say anything. He gravitated to the giant beast. Anna let out a loud noise, from her throat. The elephant was where his TV was supposed to be. He thought about the movie he intended to watch that day. The one with the nanobots. Something he was looking forward to.
    There were no zoos around, no wilderness from which this elephant might have came. They didn’t know what to do with it. They helplessly pushed at the beast. They tried every position available to move the thing. They sat back, side by side, slanting away from the beast and pushed. No good.
    Obviously, this elephant was unwieldy, to say the least.  And the scene itself, was pretty graphic. Disturbing too. And funny.
    Eventually, their child woke up. Understandably confused. Look at his tushie! The child said. Anna gave her a look and she scurried away.
    They called 911 and told their story. I’m sorry sir, the operator said, we aren’t equipped to deal with elephants in the room. You might need to call someone else.
     

  5. margaret says:

    I am not a clueless nanobot
    or rich, entitled teenage snot.
    In graphic detail I could design
    a diet plan to make my tushie fine.

    But holiday parties make me gravitate
    to buffet tables…..the rest is fate!
    I give a sidelong glance to see who’s looking
    then scoop on my plate all that’s been cooking!

    My plate is unwieldly, slanting, at the least,
    filled with bakery goods that were made with yeast!
    I am voracious…like a wildnerness beast!!
    (But how am I to ignore such a feast ??)

    Sigh, once the holidays are over and done
    I will make wise decisions my number one.
    I don’t need a lecture, or comments snarky,
    cuz you could talk till you’re blue and your voice is barky!

    Food at the holidays makes them worthwhile
    I’ll deal with it later and repent with a smile!

    HAPPY HOLIDAYS, EVERYONE……

    Enjoy your holiday goodies with no guilt! 🙂

  6. Carol Tice says:

    I love the poetry! And all the posts. This was really fun. Thanks for the opportunity Shane!

  7. [The Franchise, continued from #100]

    “There’s no need to be snarky,” Tym said.

    “Yes, there is,” I shot back. The situation was unwieldy. All we had so far was two destroyed buildings, two attempts on my life, and one morbidly fat, useless bureaucrat. “You are clueless. The Franchise could be hiding up your fat tushie right now and you’d still be lost in the wilderness.”

    Tym frowned, an act which wrinkled his face all the way around to his back. He also turned slightly pale, and a bit more translucent. “I’m doing everything I can.”

    A sidelong glance cemented a theory. I began to gravitate closer to Tym. My instincts said push harder. “I’ve seen nanobots with more brains than you. We have a band of trigger-happy morons wreaking graphic violence on the population, pulling the wool over your eyes like a Christmas sweater, and you sit there like a slug in a necktie and tell me you’re doing everything you can?”

    Tym went paler still, and was now nearly transparent. The morning light slanting in through the shades made little rainbows and odd sparkles and shadows as it passed through him. He started to ooze upright, snarling. “Now see here, Mr…”

    “I see quite well, thank you,” I said, and shot him in the head. I’ll spare you the details of what a mess that made, but I didn’t want to shoot him in the torso again.

    Tym’s headless body slumped back into his comformachair. I jammed my hand into his midsection and retrieved the tiny object glinting in the sunlight. It was a hotel key. To my room.

    Did I mention that I hate this town?

    On the suborbital hop back to Philly, the boring details came together. Tym was a silent partner in a front company trying unsuccessfully to buy the Temple land. Probably to sell it to the hotel next door for expansion. No one expected me to show up and spoil the soup. The Franchise was not involved, but made a good scapegoat, both for the carnage and for getting rid of me. By the time I touched down, Tym’s associates had been arrested, tried, convicted, and switched off – I do admire the efficiency of the SwiftJustice(tm) copbots!

    When I got home, I went back into retirement. But first I snuck my blaster back in the museum. You can see it if you’re ever in Philly, it’s in the SuperCyberSpyborg Heros and Villians exhibit, Weapons Wing, in the display case marked “Freelancer”.

    And if you’re in my neighborhood, drop by – we’ll have words.

  8. Cathy Miller says:

    @Steven-this is absolute brilliance-I love it!

  9. Thanks for the words Carol!
     
    You need to understand that I tend to gravitate my tushie toward the wilderness. It’s a quiet place to sit, a sidelong place away from the clueless and snarky nanobots, the ones that spend way too much time slanting their unwieldy if not graphic depictions of how my life should be.
     
    Fun! Giulietta

  10. Carol Tice says:

    I’m really not a good quick improviser — more of an hours-of-slogging type writer — so I am impressed with what everyone did with the words!

  11. Kelly says:

    CLOSE

    It’s an unwieldy gun they use to get the thing started. They showed it to me the day before I was admitted, when I was getting my bloodwork done.

    I guess they want to make you comfortable, bring the tools up close to make scary words like “experimental heart surgery” seem less daunting, but for me, it only made my ample tushie long to run away, as far as such an ample tushie would take me from my new best friends, the cardiologists.

    If my tushie weren’t quite so ample, maybe no experimenting with heart surgery, eh? Too late for that forlorn thought.

    The next day they put me into a semi-sleep… more like a daze with nightmares. They want to be able to ask me snarky questions, like “Istanbul or Constantiople?”—anything they can to make sure I’m still here, and they’re still funny.

    They’re not, but I don’t think to say that. I try to say “Istanbul *IS* Constantinople,” but it comes out “bleeeeahh,” and they laugh a bit and watch their screen again. Somebody wishes out loud for a cup of coffee, which they know they won’t get ‘til they fix me up, so let’s go already.

    A nanobot shot from the nasty gun into my vein takes a hesitating, sidelong glance back at the way it came in—coated, no doubt, with yesterday’s bacon and bacon breakfast—and plunges into the wilderness. Someone watches the graphic progress on the screen and drives the little bugger; someone else tells the driver how to drive, slanting the bot ever closer to the muscle I love to abuse; a third person types on a computer and occasionally suggests improvements. What the other eight people are in the room for I don’t know. They’re probably wishing for coffee too. Ooh, cream in my coffee, please!

    No coffee, I remember, sort of. I’m off on a dream of back-seat cardio-drivers, clueless hangers-on, and slime-covered artery rovers, when the part of my brain that’s not totally turned off notices a flurry of activity.

    Silent activity.

    The kind nobody, least of all a hallucinating heart patient, wants to see in surgery.

    All eight of the hangers-on suddenly gravitate toward the screen, watching the driver and listening to the driver-director, Mr. Head Cardio Mucky-Muck.

    Was it an especially close call? I’m not sure. I guess my muck must have been pretty thick. Mr. H. C. Mucky-Muck earned his fees, I figure.

    The bot made it through the blockages, somehow. All three of them. I may have heard it breathe a small robotic sigh of relief as it drilled through the last of my beloved extra-salt (but lightly sugared!) peanuts which surely cling to the walls of my heart… but maybe that was the peanuts slinking away, disappointed that today, at least, they’ll have to stop harassing me.

    It’s in there still, you know. A gun shoots it in, but there’s no way to get the exhausted little guy back out, so we’re a team now. Or does he flush out later? I think they told me in the recovery room, how that works, and I know they asked me if I understood, but all I remember is trying to tell them, now that I was more awake, that Istanbul *is* Constantinople.

    “Bleeeeahh,” I said.

    The doctor nodded and pushed a button.

    “Room 317 would like some ice chips, please,” said the doctor.

    Close enough.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Kelly: Amazing. I sure hope this is fiction?

      • Kelly says:

        Shane–Total fiction. My ex had heart issues so I have a little understanding of procedures (probably a rusty understanding, by now…), but honestly I think what I described is pretty much science fiction. I think (?) it’s still a little ways into the future.

  12. Laurie says:

    June was tired of his snarky comments and sidelong glances. He was so graphic as he tried to demean her and make her think that she couldn’t manage this wilderness trip on her own. Saying she probably would soak her shoes when she squatted her big tushie to pee while out in the forest because she wouldn’t pay attention to how she was standing on the slanting ground. He always acted like she gravitated to be clueless to so many things just because she didn’t understand how he created those nanobots and wouldn’t help him work that unwieldy equipment he used to design them.


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