Creative Copy Challenge #106

Today we have  Justin Germino of the Wanderer Thoughts Poetry blog choosing the words for our writing prompt challenge. Show him how you rise to a challenge. 

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. Marsupial  – kangaroos, opossums, bandicoots, and wombats, found principally in Australia and the Americas.
  2. Delusion 
  3. Corresponding
  4. Yellow
  5. Purpose
  6. Grand
  7. Justly
  8. Xenophobic – unduly fearful of  that which is foreign, especially of strangers or foreign peoples
  9. Recanted
  10. Spoiled

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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107 Comments on “Creative Copy Challenge #106”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    “You ‘eva Xenophobic?”

    “What type, Sven?”

    “Any of ‘zem.”

    “Sure, my roomate was deathly afraid of yellow marsupials, grand pianos, and spoiled cabbage; strange, delusional fellow that.”

    “Is ‘zat so?”

    “Yeah, he purposfully avoided corresponding via email, too. Said it was a God-awful system that unjustly singled him out for spam punishment. Said it should be recanted and replaced with carrier pigeons.”

    “Zat’s Vucked Up!”

    “Zat it is, Sven. Zat it is!”

  2. Here was my own entry to my game:
    The rustling of grass and sound of twigs broke sharply. Ted’s corresponding reaction was grand and obtuse as the young man lurched behind a bush in some sort of pathetic marsupial xenophobic shock.  Yellow liquid streamed from the bottom of his pant leg with purpose and intent as he sobbed uncontrollably like a spoiled child.  He later recanted the urination bit as some sort of delusion, but those that were there remember justly.  As it turned out, a pack of jack rabbits were the only threat at the time and the entire camp spent the rest of the summer poking fun and laughing at poor Ted.

  3. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Justin Germino, shanearthur. shanearthur said: Creative Copy Challenge #106 – http://bit.ly/fLSPBS #amwriting @dragonblogger chose the words today. […]

  4. Possum, possum, marsupial.
    Why forests here, are you delusional?
    Your corresponding chums
    Live far below in the hot yellow sun.
    What purpose yours, just hanging there?
    Is it grand, or just a dare?
    Or justly do you come here so,
    To rile xenophobic but to have no foe?
    What immortal hand or eye
    Recanted to let you by?
    Spoiled by the riches of the forests’ chow.
    Possum, possum, marsupial.
    What deft hand has made you so?

  5. Yellow fever. God, was it possible to be this miserable, and live? Was the old toothless woman clucking over me, cooling my face with damp cloths, merely a delusion? The tiny marsupial eying me from the rafters, scolding me with its high-pitched screeches, had to be a hallucination.
    If I could have recanted my previous xenophobic notions about rural, South American hospitals, I would be in one, now – getting proper medical care from a real doctor. Instead, I had behaved as if this mosquito-borne illness were nothing more than a minor annoyance – something as trivial as a cold. I would not be swayed from my purpose; I was determined to go on this pricey “eco-adventure tour,” to play the part of intrepid explorer, and smiled at the guide. We had been corresponding for months, planning this trip – I would not be dissuaded now.
    “Allergies,” I lied. “Nothing more.” I remember making some foolish, dismissive gesture as we boarded the small riverboat.
    Grand. Just grand. I was stuck here in a small, dirty hut with a toothless old woman – justly suffering the consequences of being a spoiled brat. I fell back into a haze of fevered misery, convinced that I was about to die.
    The aroma of cooking spices woke me, at last. The fever had broken; my mouth began to water. The old woman brought food, and helped me to sit up. “Thank you,” I said, my voice raspy. I would not die, after all. I was humbled by this strange woman’s care.
    Just then, a ruggedly handsome man entered the hut; it was my tour guide. “I see you’ve met my mother,” he said, grinning.

    • Wonderful, so glad you joined the game Holly.  Reminds me of my own eco adventure tour a little bit in Cozumel, but no toothless old lady.

      • Glad you lived through it! 🙂
        Closest I’ve come to “roughing it” was camping at Lassen and camping with my son’s Boy Scout troop (rarely more than an hour’s easy drive from a major metropolitan area, and never out of life-flight radius).
        The words “yellow” and “xenophobic” and “delusion” pretty much prompted this story – the rest just got to work themselves in there, somehow.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Holly: Excellent submission…and one hell of an ending, too. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but this is your 1st submission right? In any event, welcome and sure hope you do more (we do these every Monday and Thursday), and everyone say hi to Holly. I’ll add your name to our CCC Community Links page now. YOU ARE THE 200TH MEMBER TO OUR FUN CLUB!

    • Cathy Miller says:

      @Holly-really, really well done-not a journey I want to take, however. 🙂

  6. “What the hell IS that?” James’ whisper was justly awestruck as he watched the funny-looking creature hop about. From his vantage point behind the bushes of the outback, he had a clear view.

    “It’s a marsupial, you xenophobic Canadian.” Peter Shallard didn’t bother whispering as he examined his nails. “You know. A kangaroo.”

    James shot Peter a dirty look. “Don’t act like I’m having a delusion, there. I’ve never seen one before. Give me a break.”

    “Yes, of course.” Peter rolled his eyes. “My apologies.” He didn’t mean it. “Are you done looking now? Can we stop hiding in the brush and go have a decent coffee somewhere? Have you fulfilled your grand purpose of pretending you’re Crocodile Dundee?”

    “Good lord you’re spoiled.” James tsked. “I thought you’d recanted on drinking coffee anyways.”

    “I need coffee around you,” Peter shot back. “I can barely make sense of you on a good day.” He rose from his crouch and dusted off his suit. “Do you like my shoes, by the way?” The leather was a beautiful yellow tobacco color, and Peter beamed down at them. “Paid a fortune for these.”

    Now it was James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Was that before or after you’d decided the corresponding response to becoming famous was spending money?”

    “Don’t be silly.” Peter sniffed haughtily. “Spending money is what I do best. And besides, I’ve been famous for years. You just didn’t know it yet.”

  7. My Purpose is to have Spoiled my readers into the Delusion that I can write Grand blogs
    even if I Recanted now, it would be of no use. As some are Xenophobic about blogging or
    some Marsupial, I believe Corresponding brings joy and social skills as the sun shines
    Yellow everyday. Use this blog Justly and be a winner!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Looking4Purpose: Welcome to the CCC. Just saw your tweet about the CCC and am glad to see you did it. Great short form style.
      What did you think of it? Hope you enjoyed it. We have these every Monday and Thursday.
      Everyone welcome Looking4Purpose to our fun. I’ll add your name and URL to our CCC Community Page next.

    • Really nice way to compact those words in a paragraph, that you made it about blogging was also interesting.

    • Cathy Miller says:

      @Looking4Purpose-short & sweet–very sweet indeed!

  8. margaret says:

    I think that sometimes it would be beneficial to be a marsupial.
    Having a permanent pocket would at least insure that I could always find a pen, my car keys, my cell phone and all of the other essentials that are to be found in a purse…..however, I sometimes manage to misplace my purse and cannot leave the house until it has been located.

    I am not under any delusion that this would solve all of my organizational problems, such as being able to find corresponding colors of socks, rather than one blue and one yellow when I am wearing red. I often pretend that I am wearing two different colors on purpose, and if anyone comments, I proudly say “yes, I love this pair so much I have another just like it at home!”

    In the grand scheme of life, however, I justly believe that being right-brained and creative is preferable for me than being completely organized and type A.  It has been suggested that I would benefit from an outside organizer coming in to assist me, but I confess, that would make me feel rather xenophobic.

    I stay true to myself and have never recanted my outspoken wishes to be who I am, do things my own way without intrusion, and eventually work things out by myself. At least I would be comfortable with and trust my consultant! Yes, I guess you could say that I want my cake and eat it too, and if you wish to label me “spoiled”, then so be it!

    (P.S.) did these in order today.

  9. Spoiled by the erstwhile sublime environment of the New Guinean rain forest from whence they were “harvested”, the half-dozen bandicoots huddled miserably in a filthy cage. Their captor, himself a ratty-looking specimen of a human, arranged for the illicit transport of the marsupials to the Mercer Laboratory in Charlottesville, Virginia, USA. His part in this unholy affair ended, the little man grabbed the proffered yellow envelope, presumably stuffed with cash, and scurried away.

    Dr. Tunesi used his boot to nudge the somnolent porter / pilot / guide. “Wake up! Let’s get this show on the road.”
    The portly pilot grunted, struggled to his feet and snatched the cage up into his arms. “Phew! These little critters stink!”
    Impatiently, Dr. Tunesi gestured the pilot toward the waiting turboprop. This was going to be a long flight home.

    ***

    Jane tromped out of the level 4 decontamination chamber, livid. “Do you mind telling me what was your purpose in bringing back only six? Three of them have already died and we haven’t even begun to replicate the Rickettsia genome in sufficient quantities to ensure transplantation in the rotavirus!”
    Dr. Tunesi smiled condescendingly before replying, “Dear Jane, I’ve already gotten what I need. Thanks so much for examining the patients. Take the rest of the day off.”

    ***
    The phone rang. Jane, whimpering weakly, rolled over toward the nightstand to pick up. “Hello?”
    “How are you feeling, Jane?” It was Dr. Tunesi.
    “Like crap.”
    “Perhaps you should take some medication. I need you here.”
    “No.”
    “Listen, I’ll send a car around. Just be ready.”
    “I can barely move, Thomas.”
    Impatiently, now: “Jane! This is not the time to be thinking of yourself! We are on the verge of a massive break-through!”
    “No.”
    Changing tactics, Dr. Tunesi tried to cajole Jane, but it was no use. She simply refused to budge.
    “Very well, then. I’ll have to get Victor. He will use the corresponding chains to speed up the cycles considerably.”
    That was the magic phrase. With a sudden burst of jealous energy, Jane sat up and whispered fiercely into the phone, “Damn you! Don’t you dare let that cretin anywhere near my research! He doesn’t have a clue which end of a strand is up! Send the car. I’ll get ready.”

    ***

    Jane was puzzled. When she arrived, she had expected Dr. Tunesi to be in the laboratory setting up for the latest trial. Yet the lab was dark. Turning on the lights, she was horrified to find that the place had been cleaned out. Not a single piece of equipment remained. The door to the decontamination chamber was, uncharacteristically, ajar. Coughing violently, Jane slowly spun around, trying to make sense of this incongruous scene.
    “Ah, there you are!” Dr. Tunesi walked in briskly. “Are you ready?”
    “Ready? Ready for what? Where is everything?”
    With a quick deft jab, Dr. Tunesi plunged a syringe into Jane’s neck. “Right here.”

    ***

    Victor knew his suspicions were confirmed as he observed Thomas and Jane shuffling oddly together down the darkened corridor toward the exit. Victor had camped out for six hours in his office, terrified of being discovered. But he had to find out if those two were hell-bent on executing some dramatic plot involving the disease-ridden bandicoots they had smuggled into the lab.
    Doing his own independent investigation, Victor theorized that Dr. Tunesi and Jane had found a way to synthesize pure toxins extracted from the bacterium Coxiella burnetti. With his usual dark humor, Victor had taken to referring to C. burnetti is “Carol Burnett”. But, only to himself. He wasn’t ready to go public with his suspicions. He needed proof. He needed some toxin.

    ***

    Jane came to and tried unsuccessfully to sit up. As she became more alert, she realized that she was strapped to a gurney. A pain in her chest made her look down. She stared stupidly at the catheter snaking from under her exposed left breast, trailing along the gurney to about where her waist was, before dropping out of sight toward the floor. The bright red fluid of oxygenated blood burbled its way through the tube. The sight of so much blood made Jane swoon with nausea.

    When she came to a second time, the catheter was gone. Dr. Tunesi stared down at her, almost kindly.
    “Where am I?” Jane stammered. “What have you done?”
    “Come now, Jane. You’re a smart girl. Figure it out.” Dr. Tunesi turned away slightly to grab a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

    Jane’s eyes were dancing about in fear. Her mental gears were only half engaged but she suddenly gasped, “Ohhh!”
    Laughing delightedly, Dr. Tunesi turned back toward her, nodding knowingly. “It would have taken months to extract the Ricksettia through PCR. The phosphodiester bonds kept breaking down from the heat of your accelerated process. The only way to get enough DNA was the slow way – through a much larger and hardier host.”

    “Now,” Dr. Tunesi, continued, “I have enough material to jump-start the rotaviral replication phase. In two weeks, I’ll be able to extract the toxin and auction it off to the highest bidder!”

    Jane, recognizing the finality of this situation, nevertheless flared up in indignation. “Whatever happened to ‘we’, Thomas? Without my contribution, your grand scheme would still just be the delusion of a xenophobic American bigot!”
    Dr. Tunesi snarled, “You little strumpet! I taught you everything you know! We could have done great things together! But I need nothing from you anymore. With the money I get from this little project, I can buy my own island and set up a new  laboratory! I’ll be free to do my research, unfettered by the political flacks from ASHG.”

    “So? This is about revenge, Thomas? Are you still bitter because they made you recant your so-called discovery? That research was flawed and you know it!”

    “Real science is never tidy, Jane. You know that. My findings were justly confirmed by Billings, Drummond and Foster! They were coerced into backing down because the world isn’t ready for human cloning!”

    ***

    Victor shut off the tape recorder and, as quickly and as quietly as possible, eased his way out of the mad doctor’s examining room, which was adjacent to the little operating theater where Jane was being held captive. He knew he couldn’t save her. His only hope was to get these delirious ramblings into the hands of the authorities.

    Coughing violently, he slipped out into the night air, jumped into his van and sped off toward Martha Jefferson Hospital.

    • Incredibly detailed and flushed out, really felt the backstabbing company and glad it was caught on tape.  Easily could be a movie plot.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Mitchell: Outstanding tale, Mitchell. Welcome to the CCC. Man, I loved that story. I think you should create a series out of this one, continuing it on Thursday’s challenge. (We have them every Monday and Thursday, by the way.).
      I’m adding your name and URL to our CCC Community Links page now. Thanks for stopping by. What did you think of it?

      • @HisHotnessShane,
         
        Thanks for the warm welcome and kind words. Justin tweeted about this challenge and I love doing anything to keep from working – lol. I added your RSS feed to my reader so that I can keep up.
        I used to hang out on FanStory.com until I got too busy. CCC is a great concept, running twice a week. I think it’s a keeper. But you don’t me to you that! 106 challenges, whoo!
         
        Congratulations on getting on the Hotties list.
         
        @Justin, I’m glad you liked the story. You picked some good words. I got a sense of what you must feel when the random poetry words suggest the theme.
         
        Cheers,
         
        Mitch
         
         

        • Shane Arthur says:

          @Mitchell: Just busted a gut laughing! Needed that. thanks.

        • That is why I was so drawn to playing this game, it was so similar in concept to my poetry game and gave me a chance to promote something else as well as partake in something else.  Speaking of Twitter poem, I am opening up the twitter poetry game today.  Everyone send @dragonblogger 1 word to use in today’s poem!

      • Cathy Miller says:

        @Holly, @Looking4Purpose, @Mitchell-Welcome to CCC!

        At CCC, the community welcomes you as we fold you into a marsupial-like embrace.

        There is no delusion or disbelief in the talent that lies in all of us. The corresponding submissions support our confidence in what we do.

        Follow the yellow brick road to your own dream, where words have purpose and their meaning is displayed in grand style. We are justly proud of all who join us, where the xenophobic know no place and all doubt is recanted.

        So, welcome to CCC, where you will truly be spoiled by a community that shares your dreams.
         

    • I want to read the novel!

    • Cathy Miller says:

      @Mitchell-finally got some time to come back and read through the submissions-Wow-so descriptive and Justin’s right, could easily see this as a movie-now, that’s good writing!

  10. Shane Arthur says:

    programming note:
    This is so bleepin’ funny. The CCC made it on a list.
    http://marleeward.com/15-male-blogger-%E2%80%9Chotties%E2%80%9D-you-should-know-about-in-2011/
    From now on, you guys can refer to me in the comments as @HisHotnessShane: if you’d like. 😉
    Thanks Marlee!
     

  11. Shane Hudson says:

    Need to work on my style, not impressed with it!:
     

    “HELP, HELP, HELP!” Shouted the spoiled little pathetic girl with the little yellow pathetic pigtails.
     
    “Why should I help you? You’re nothing but a spoilt brat.” I answered from the corner of the street, trying my best to look terrifying in my top hat and leather trench coat.
     
    “I just saw a kangaroo eating a man!” she screamed, to which she got a very loud answer “Are you delusional? A kangaroo around here? Ugh!” I was thinking that I should have recanted my belief that small girls with rich fathers and those disgusting pigtails are spoilt but no, I was correct. In fact, she was a delusional spoiled girl terrified of anything marsupial and probably xenophobic as well!
     
    Rather than just walking away, I justly rang the emergency services. The purpose of this was not to take her to the police or hospital but instead of the pysciatrist. Corresponding to the actual use of the phoneline I probably should not have done what I did, but too late now isn’t it!

  12. Justin, thanks for the words! And Shane, I love the CCC. It gets my brain pumping!
     
    I dreamed of a yellow marsupial named “Lola” last night.

    During my wee-hour delusion, Lola grabbed me by my pigtails and stuffed me into her “pouch.” She proceeded to hop me on a grand tour of Queensland, Australia.

    At first I rather enjoyed the excursion, bouncing along the dusty roads of the Outback.

    But when she refused to stop for a potty break, I did something unthinkable — I spoiled myself and began thinking xenophobic thoughts about a country over-populated with such freaky gigantic rabbits!  I recanted my long-held wish to visit Australia by shouting.

    “I demand to leave the Land of Down Under!”

    Nothing happened and I tumbled into an abyss of despair …

    The corresponding self-loathing and poop stench forced me to find a new purpose: wake up from my dream!

    Justly so, I began slapping my own face harder and harder until …

    Poof!

    I awoke on the floor of my bedroom resting on a crumpled something or other that I pulled out from under me. It turned out to be a National Geographic magazine. And on the cover? A kangaroo gnashing her teeth …
     
     

  13. aleekwrites says:

    Just time for one before I go to bed! I like to do mine as quick as possible to surprise myself! : )

    Acton Dont watched, fearful, rooted to the spot. The powerful, gleaming yellow metal seemed to take up the entire sky. He hoped and prayed it was a delusion.

    He wasn’t in the mood for another alien invasion. Not today. A ‘fwop’ sounded and a sweeping, curving doorway along the spaceship opened up. A formbidable choir of what sounded like angels crescendoed climactically in an entirely unnecessary grand performance.

    It was unnnecessary because the alien was already out of the spaceship. And had hopped up to Acton’s feet. And sniffed them. It squeaked.

    “Are you… a… wallaby, alien?”

    Acton, despite himself, found himself adopting the ‘cootchie coo’ tone one uses towards spoiled domesticated cute pets. Like this little marsupial. It had smooth, sleek yellow fur, corresponding almost exactly to the metallic colour of the ship it had come from. It was cute.

    But at the sudden sound of Acton’s voice, it started, and bounced backwards,
    bumbling over itself, squeaking with fear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please forgive me! I have recanted for what I did before! I visit Earth with a different purpose this time! I swear!”

    It quivered, inconsolably, staring up at Acton with disporportionately huge eyes.

    “Oh, Father, God, I can recant again at your feet! Tell me how! Anything!”

    Well this was a nice turn of events, Acton thought to himself. He could keep this pet. And be immeasurably attractive to ladies by making it do cute tricks in the park. He drew himself up. Ignoring the self-perception that he was trying to look tougher, more imposing, and taller, to a wallaby-like fluffy creature who was xenophobic enough to be frightened out of its wits by now of a man from Earth, he used his most authoritative voice.

    “AND JUSTLY SO!” He shouted, ignoring the fact he felt doubly foolish. 

    “Your purpose is irrelevant! You must do more!”

    The creature nodded so rapidly Acton thought its head might fall off.

    “Now, follow me. We are going to get you a collar.”

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @aleekwrites: Super, super write. Loved the ending especially.

    • Oh my Gawd! this was funny! I could see Acton, with his pompous self, being the actual delusional one.
       
      I love this phrase:
      “A formbidable choir of what sounded like angels crescendoed climactically in an entirely unnecessary grand performance.”
       
      Ain’t it the truth, though? That celestial entrance is designed to entrance us.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

    • Cathy Miller says:

      @aleekwrites-great ending! great story

  14. Cathy Miller says:

    Death & the Detective Series
    ==================
    Brett Connors wasn’t sure if he was glad the holidays were over. On the one hand, the precinct had been as quiet as Randy Watkin’s workplace. Randy was the city’s coroner. On the other hand, Brett was glad his fellow detective, Pat McNeill, was back from vacation. Now, maybe they could get back to the little things, like finding a serial killer.

    Pat walked in with his hands shoved into his windbreaker’s pouch, looking like some kind of baby-carrying marsupial.

    “I thought it never rained in southern California.”

    “We bring in rain as a delusion tactic for tourists.”

    “Yeah, well I find it pretty damn delusional.”

    “That’s because you’re from the east coast.”

    “And you are such a gnarly dude, Connors.”

    Brett chuckled at the detective’s scowl. After 25 years of homicide, Brett was relieved he could still find the humor in life.

    “Grab some coffee and let’s take a look at the coroner’s reports on our psycho,” Brett instructed while pulling together the corresponding files. This case had been going on so long he was surprised the pages had not turned yellow.

    “I’m not sure what purpose it’ll serve. I swear we have gone over them until our eyes bled.”

    “He’s still out there, even though we have DNA, so we are obviously missing something.”

    “We have the DNA of a dead guy. So, unless he came back from the grave, how can he be our psycho killer?”

    Good question, Brett thought. They thought they finally had a break in the case when the coroner made the grand announcement that the last victim had DNA under her fingernails. After months of investigation, the elation they justly felt, deflated like a New Year’s balloon in March.

    Brett’s hatred of this sick M-F took on xenophobic proportions. The killer left one victim without a tongue and the other with no eyes. And that was just, pardon the pun, the visual of his sick torture. Then he made it personal by dumping the last victim on Dr. Maggie Sweeney’s balcony.

    Brett had long ago recanted his feigned disinterest in the precinct’s sexy psychiatrist and profiler. In fact, the long-legged, green-eyed seductress had spoiled him for his typical type.

    “Hello, Brett, anyone home?”

    Brett blinked in surprise at the sound of his fellow detective. Obviously, he had been trying to get Brett’s attention for some time.

    “Just thinking about the case.”

    “Yeah, right, and I get all moon-eyed over the M-F killer, too.”

  15. sefcug says:

    Sorry I have not posted in quite a while. I think I might be winding down on my commitments for a while, but I still have the problem of being blocked out of CCC at work.
    I printed #106 out last night at home, but did not get time until just now to work on it, so here goes, in order:
    *****
    Bill came in to tell me that he thought that he was a marsupial. What a strange delusion! It is no use trying to convince him otherwise, even though he possesses none of the corresponding characteristics of marsupials, such as a kangaroo or opposum, though I did try.
    He came to us wanting us to publish his life story. As we do not practice yellow journalism, my main purpose in this meeting was to explain to him that in the grand scheme of things, no scientific evidence has been provided, nor likely to be found, to allow us to justly publish such a story.
    Bill immediately became irate, accusing me and the entire media of being xenophobic.
    Once I suggested that we could actually publish his story in one of our affiliated, non-journalistic publications (actually a sci-fi periodical, where it is known that not everything is factual), he recanted his accusations, and even thanked me for listening and finding a way for him to express himself when no one else would.
    Moral:
    Though the original idea may be spoiled, with enough imagination and empathy, a way can be found for anyone to express themselves in a manner consistent with their beliefs.
    *****

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Steve: So glad to see you back, my friend. Love your style, and the CCC Pattern King is back.
      I took care of the edit for you. I just finished the audio book How To Win Friends & Influence People. Great content. Your moral reminded me of it.

      • sefcug says:

        @Shane: Thanks for taking care of the edit.

        I think the influence for this was from my recent reading of The Bride Collector, by Ted Dekker (http://www.teddekker.com/2010/04/06/the-bride-collector/).

        I will be late in my submissions, due to being blocked, but I will try to keep printing them at home when I can and working on them later.

        I like to just print them out and not even look at them, until I am ready to start writing, then do it all in one fell swoop. Hopefully, I will proof a little better before submission.

        I do enjoy doing these. Keep it up!

        Well, gotta go.

        • Shane Arthur says:

          @Steve: Never heard of that book. I’ll check it. Thanks. And thanks for doing these as you are. That’s dedication right there.

  16. sefcug says:

    Well I guess that is what I get for not proofing before submission.
    The first paragraph should read:
    Bill came in to telling me that he thought that he was a marsupial. What a strange delusion! It is no use trying to convince him otherwise, even though he possesses none of the corresponding characteristics of marsupials, such as a kangaroo or opposum, though I did try.

  17. Tiffany Hudson says:

    We walked into her living room. I mean I knew she was rich, I just didn’t exspect it to be so posh. Large backed deep red sofas, huge T.V built into the wall. Which where all white along with the carpit that was just so soft I was tempted to rip of my little white trainer socks with their green and yellow stripes and sink my feet into it. Then I remebered to be respectful so I didn’t. I knew she was spoiled but I didn’t exspect this. She’s nice just spoilt.
    “It’s so marsupial!” Squealed Kelly from next to me. Both myself and Yazmin looked at her.
    “It’s like a family of kangeroo’s?” I asked trying not to laugh, I wanted to know if she said that on purpose, I bet not.
    “Opps, wrong word” She giggled. Both me and Yaz joined in.
    “You’re delusional” Yaz giggled
    “Ohh is that a grand piano?” Kelly screamed. Yaz nodded, Kelly loved anything with the word ‘grand’ in it.
    “Okay Steph your the smart one. What does recanted mean?” She asked.
    “It means to sing or to sing again in latin… I think.” I answered slowly picturing my latin dictonary in my head.
    “What about next year us three go to Egypt?” Kelly asked in her high pitched voice.
    “No way, not me, I’m xenophobic.” Yaz said shivering. How kelly forgot that I don’t know, she forever teasing Yaz about it.
    “Umm is justly a word Steph?” Yaz asked walking over to her laptop which was on the small glass table in the middle of the room. The room smelt of lemons, I like lemons. I nodded at her question before I fell to the pray of the lemony smell.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Tiffany: Welcome to the CCC. Super 1st submission. It was such a fun, easy-going read. What did you think of the challenge? Sure hope you try more. We do them every Monday and Thursday.
      Everyone welcome Tiffany to the party. I’ll add your name to the CCC Community Links page next.

      • Cathy Miller says:

        @Tiffany – Welcome to CCC!

        Tucked inside our marsupial pocket of welcome is an appreciation of what you bring to CCC. We have no delusion, but rather, a sincere belief that each corresponding submission delivers a little bit of what makes each writer unique.

        The CCC community shines with a yellow sun-kissed glow whose only purpose is a warm embrace. We know you will feel quite grand as you justly receive your praise. Leave behind the xenophobic critics who will never understand what makes a community like CCC. Here at CCC, the negative is recanted and we are spoiled by the joy that we share.

        Welcome!
         
         
         
         

  18. Kelly says:

    WOMBAT-B-GONE

    Funny, there’s nothing in the Yellow Pages under Marsupial Removal. At 72 years old, she’d been brought up a sheltered, spoiled brat in a very homogenous neighborhood, and yes, she had recanted her xenophobic stance long ago during the Civil Rights movement… but this was different. The wombat in Lucy’s backyard looked like a huge rat to her, and even though the kids next door explained what it was and oohed and ahhed and hoped she’d keep it, she (justly) wanted it gone. Who knows what a foreign rat-beast will do in a strange place? Who knows whether she (or her excited neighbors) were safe with its wizened little face so near?

    She tried shooing it away, which it ignored. Seems the creature liked her grand flowerbeds and overflowing apple trees.

    She tried calling the animal shelter and the fire department, but they laughed.

    The zoo did not return her calls.

    She called a couple of vets, who suggested to her that maybe it was only a cat, and that it would leave by the end of the day, whatever it was, because it would miss home. That did not happen either; the thing was neither a delusion (on her part) nor homesick (on its part), and now Lucy was getting mad.

    If her purpose was to get rid of the beast, she’d have to get creative.

    So Lucy called the news station.

    Amazing what a little reporter (and her corresponding truck, camera and camera operator, and general hubbub in a usually quiet neighborhood) can do for a little old lady with a marsupial removal issue!

  19. J1mmy had been riding around in his Baby Bjorn all day, and refused to get out. My back hurt. “Will you please get out and walk? You’re like a spoiled marsupial! Now hop out!”

    J1mmy played with a yellow ducky. Since I told him it was his baby brotherbot, he had not let it out of his sight. I thought it was a harmless delusion, but now I was not so sure.

    “What’s the grand purpose?” he asked. “We move with corresponding efficiency when I’m in here, since your pods are much longer than mine. Besides, brotherduck doesn’t want to leave.”

    That duck again. I could have recanted, and justly, but I knew it wouldn’t help. “What’s the problem, scared of strangers?”

    J1mmy looked around quickly. “Well, it’s not that I’m xenophobic, it’s just that I’m comfortable. Now hurry up or we’ll be late for sch00l!”

  20. Laurie says:

    Can you imagine being an alien arriving on this planet and encountering marsupial creatures as you first ventured out, it seems without a doubt that xenophobia might be a first experience found. Or maybe not maybe that’s our delusion and they might justly think the animals were grand and had a corresponding purpose. Perhaps, saying they would be xenophobic should be recanted as I don’t know how those yellow beings might interpret things. Maybe they would see us as some spoiled being who has ruined the planet, not much delusion in that granted!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Laurie: My brother and I were 10 years old, playing outside our house in Maryland around noon. Over the trees in broad daylight comes what looks like the spaceship in the end of the X-Files movie. It moved about 25 miles per hour and hummed loudly. It went right over our condominium complex, turned and stopped. I remember asking my brother, “Can jets do that?” He yelled, “Heck no, go get the camera.” Before we could do anything else, this thing zoomed away. We were 10, street smart, and it was the middle of the day. We’d seen space movies and knew of the concept of UFOs. This had to be one. We lived right next to an Army Reserve base and not 1 minute later, we saw eight helicopters flying after this thing in the same direction. I’ll never forget this.


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