Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #188

Our own Anne Wayman of AboutFreelanceWriting choose today’s words. Show her what you’ve got.

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. Collywobbles – intestinal cramps or other intestinal disturbances;  a feeling of fear, apprehension
  2. Collie
  3. Wobbles
  4. Holly
  5. Slow
  6. Slower
  7. Turtle
  8. Rabbit 
  9. Cat
  10. Kat

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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127 Comments on “Writing Prompts – Creative Copy Challenge #188”

  1. Shane Arthur says:

    “Holly McButter, Billy! These here collywobbles got me wobblin’ like a slow, one-legged collie inside a spinnin’ turtle shell gettin’ attacked by a cat high on katnip. I might be thinkin’ fuzzy on accout of this here stomach sickness, but I believes I’s gonna throw up no slower than da fastest-screwin’ jack rabbit.”

    “Bobby, I done toldt you not to eat professor Wayman’s leftover pancakes. She once got da flu and she toldt me dat da best way to get rid of it is to give it to someone else. And here I done thought she invited us over for our good looks.”

  2. “Oh, mulliegrubs and pollywogs!!” Holly muttered, typing the same with staccato beats of her fingertips. She shoved the keyboard across the desk and glared at the grinning face on the monitor.

    “Guess that’s the white girl’s way of saying, ‘Oh no you DIDDINT!’” teased Mitch, shooting a DM across the Twitterverse.

    “Did you just call me a dog? You just called me a dog, you—you—As if I care what stunts you pull.” Granted, singing “HollyCollie Wobbles All Day” on YouTube, to the tune of Polly Wolly Doodle, while eating a live earthworm and balancing acat, unimaginatively named ‘Kat,’ on his head was a bit of a coup. She couldn’t blame the viewers for giving him thumbs and subscribing to his channel, perhaps out of pity. Still, it fell short of that vaunted “authenticity” that would have made it relevant to the CrimsonSapbox, or whatever he called his site. After all, the “earthworms” had been exposed as Gummi worms when Mitch’s daughter came up and absconded with the bag on camera. Mitch had lacked the skill – or, perhaps, the heart – to edit that bit out, and it’s probably what earned him 70% of the Tweets and Retweets, on sheer cuteness alone. Her sticky smile could melt hearts and win minds, or something.

    “Do I detect a hint of the collywobbles?

    Our turtle is catching your rabbit, slowly but surely…”

    “Your turtle’s too slow to beat a snail. If your turtle went any slower, someone would skin it and turn it into an old boot. Then they’d stick it on top of a wooden crate as a warning to other turtles. Oh, wait…”

    “Now that was just mean.” Mitch pouted.

    “Oh, fiddle-dee-dee. Here, have a free scary story for Halloween. Next time you hear ‘Boo!’ you can tell yourself it’s a ghostie.”

    Please visit http://thenextgoal.com – we think you’ll enjoy what you read, and hope you’ll enjoy it enough to comment, share, “Like,” “+1,” and “Tweet” about it. Every time YOU share, we earn points. See Social Proof Challenge, Plus Week 2 Results. We’d love to count you as part of our “extended team,” and trust you to help keep The Boot from kickin’ The Frog. Thanks!

  3. Okay, so this is a recurring theme with some of my poetry.  Sorry I see the word intestinal anything and this comes out:
     
    Gastric Distress
    Maybe it was that rogue Kit Kat
    or the hissing of that black cat
     
    the sneeze from that girl named Holly
    or the licking from that border collie
     
    The collywobbles indicate it’s time to go
    yet the waiting line is moving too slow
     
    Slower than a turtle and almost too late
    leg wobbles ease; a pouncing rabbit through a gate

    Stuck trying to oppress this culinary chess
    intestinal distress is embarrassing to confess

    • I have a feeling I’m going to be taking a lot of abuse, here, today. (Thanks, Anne.) For the record, I haven’t sneezed since last May, and I do know enough to cover my nose and mouth when I do! Harrrrumph! 😉
      I like the phrase “culinary chess.” 🙂 Nicely done, Justin.

    • Justin, isn’t it funny how acute becomes our recall when sickness befalls us?
      That is clever poetry!
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

      • Too often we try to find what we ate or who we had contact with that MADE US SICK!  It is like perfect recall of events in some cases, yet when asked what did I eat for dinner last Thursday, I could tell you I have no memory of that.

    • Jen says:

      Hey, just remember: “Everyone poops.” Also, culinary chess. Loved it.

      • Frank Ruiz says:

        Awesome poem, and sorry for your continuing gastronomical troubles, Justin.  Hope your tummy feels better for a long time to come!

    • margaret says:

      Love it, Justin…A couple of weeks ago I ate some “street tacos” at the farmers market and Moctezuma’s revenge set in about half an hour later. I was doing the “colly wobble” strut as fast as I could before disaster struck!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Justin G: This reminds me of a Fourth of July celebration in DC I went to many years back. I had to go #3, that’s 1 & 2, and the men’s line was super long at one of the monuments. I inched my way up, barely able to hold back the tide. One hundred guys left in front of me… 55 guys left … 30 guysto go …10…4… during this wait, many females had complained to the cops that their line was three times as long. And it was. Cops had a meeting … 2 guys left in front of me. The security walks up, puts his arm in front of me and says, “We’re closing the men’s room and letting females go.” I almost got arrested for profanity and breaching this cop’s personal space. I had to walk a half mile and sneak into a restaurant’s bathroom. Totally sucked. I’d never do a DC 4th again.

      • I’d have totally been okay with a co-ed bathroom, under those circumstances, Shane. When it gets to that point, we’re all just humans with needs. You just dovetail the lines and let in the most desperate.

  4. Holly checked the other team’s Facebook stats and laughed with glee. She knew that in this race, the rabbit was going to kick the stuffing out of the turtle. She sent a text to her friend, Kat:

    “Their fan count is so static, it wobbles. They are stuck on slow. It they go any slower, the page will freeze. LOL”

    Kat texted back:

    “Be nice. Didn’t one of them lose a cat?”

    Holly: “Yes, that is kind of sad. I know I was upset when Lassie died.”

    Kat: “LOL! Y’all named your collie, LASSIE?”

    Holly: “BRB. Something disturbing just came up.”

    ***

    Holly had a bad case of the collywobbles: it seemed the other team’s Halloween post had gone viral while she was perusing Facebook.

    “Uh-oh.”

  5. Holly knew her slow froglet friend had collywobbles. She tried feeding it another kit-kat.  But on top of the fermented turtle soup the thing had slurped . . .
    She shouldn’t have tried to re-enact the competition scene from Tap Dancing with the Devil; not after her blender got the wobbles. She knew she should have run it slower.  Processing collie bones broke it – and worse; her rabbit wouldn’t eat what was left over.
    Well. That Crimson crowd must not be allowed to win. But what nastiness could she make next? She looked at the cat. And shrugged.

    • “Oh, Anthony…” Holly read the words and shook her head. If Frog had the collywobbles, it was from all the jigglebellies he got from leaping so frenetically over crates and boots. Frog didn’t have a slow mode. All that crimson turned him slightly green, and he had to rest inside a hollowed-out turtle shell. He tried not to think about last Friday’s soup…although he had to admit it tasted quite yummy, laced with a little (or a lot of) cooking sherry from the U.C. Sherry Tanker.
       
      Today’s delicacy was a nice Jugged Hare – rabbit cooked in a savory white wine sauce. There was absolutely no truth to the vicious rumor about what happened to Anthony’s collie, and why he insisted on blaming Holly was anybody’s guess, but she had her suspicions. Maybe Cruella de Viljoens had abducted it to breed in the fur factory. Perhaps it felt sorry for Sylvia, and, ever the hopeful optimist, thought the love of a dog could make up for the loss of a cat. Or maybe it was out carrying Rob’s bowling bag. Holly was pretty sure the dog would eventually turn up, relatively unharmed, but possibly tagged with some silly new name, like “Kat.”
       
      Holly turned to her cookbook. Her NextGoal was to whip up a celebratory cake and pop the cork on that bottle of Dom Perignon – after her team won Round 3. When the batter bowl began to wobble under the rotating beaters, Holly had to turn the speed down slower, but she could not resist licking the creamy batter from the beaters before shoving the cake, with a little “Ta-da!” into the oven.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Anthony: Love this. I love this soap opera more than Dallas.

    • Heh. That’s a devilish feat to attempt. 😉
      Thanks for the plug, Holly. And Congratulations on helping your team win its third (!!) straight challenge. I feel like the Red team on Hell’s Kitchen.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       
      P.S. Well duh, I just realized I replied to Anthony’s comment. Must.Get.Coffee.

      Just change the names around until it makes sense. You already saw this in email, so it makes no sense to “clean it up”.

  6. margaret says:

    When the Collie ate some holly, she got the collywobbles
    I told her to be cautious of what the heck she gobbles.
    And when the cat chewed kat, she acted like a brat..
    but when she gave some to the rabbit, he said “I don’t need that habit”!

    Speaking of the wobbles, an animal that hobbles
    is the slow and slower turtle, when you put him in a girdle!

  7. Frank Ruiz says:

    “Hey Kat, you know what really gives me the collywobbles?”

    “Let me guess, Skylar: that line of police right outside those park gates with full riot gear?”

    “You’re close: it’s the dogs they sometimes bring to chase us down.  Nothing like my old collie Holly.”

    “Y’know, you shouldn’t be so one-sided about these head-crackers surrounding us.  There’s still some positives, as long as you’re willing to look hard enough.”

    “Well, once the tear gas lets up, I’ll see if I can focus enough to identify some beauty here beyond the screams and falling bodies.”

    “Don’t worry, I’ll help.  It’s not that hard.  For instance, the arc that flash bomb makes once it’s released from that cop’s arm: it’s wonderful!  It lobs slowly upward at a turtle’s speed before hurling down to the ground, where it then hops around like a spastic rabbit.  Its dance then slows to a few wobbles, before BOOM!  Such a flash!  Smoke billowing everywhere!  A howl like cats in heat!  It’s like the Fourth of July, man!”

    “More like ‘Born on the Fourth of July!’  We’re sitting ducks here, and acting nonviolently at that!  We’re slower, weaker, and less trained.  Our only weapons are a sense of responsibility for our society and planet’s future, and the truth.  That, and the fact that the world is watching”

    “Don’t hold on too tightly to those ‘weapons.’  The funny thing about tear gas is that it makes it hard for cameras to get clear pictures and video.  The cops know this, and they take advantage.  Beauty’s all I have to hold onto here.  I’m afraid the rest is lost.”

    “Whoa!  Let me find out Miss Optimist is actually a pessimist!  Kat, even I’ve got some hope left that the world won’t let us get slaughtered.”

    “Skylar, did you see what they did to Scott Olsen?  A two-time Iraq-war vet for this country is sitting in a coma thanks to these cops.  If they can get away with that, what hope do we have?”

    [The rest of the story is ours to provide the ending to.  Information on Scott Olsen’s situation can be found here: http://www.occupywallst.org/article/tonight-vigils-across-america-scott-olsen-marine-v/.  Consider joining a vigil for Scott in your local city’s “Occupy” location: http://www.occupytogether.org/directory/.  Anne, thanks for today’s wonderful list of words, and for your piece (and membership) on http://occupywriters.com/ (http://www.aboutfreelancewriting.com/2011/10/occupywriters-com-why-i-joined/).]

  8. Jeanette R. says:

    “A little to the left.  Ok, perfect.”  Joel gripped the ladder and waited for the wobbles to stop.  He joined his wife in the front yard.

    “I can’t believe you’re putting up a sign to warn kids to slow down as they approach the house.  That takes away the joy of trying to scare the crap out of them.”

    Stephanie walked over to the stacked pumpkins and stabbed each one with cat eyes.  

    “Some of these kids aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed.  Our tile get’s slippery and with all of these decorations, they need to walk slower or they could seriously injure themselves.”

    “Ok, but the turtle on the sign is a bit much.” Stephanie shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the potted plants by the garage.

    “Speaking of things not belonging, I think we can get rid of the rabbit decorations from Easter.  How long have they been hanging out in these plants?” Joel peered inside the pot and stared at the molded, disfigured animals.

    “Poor guys.  They didn’t stand a chance with the whiteflies infestation.  Gives me the collywobbles just thinking about the feast they had.”

    “You’re insane.  Why is there holly on the ground?  I told you to just take out Halloween decorations.  Don’t rush Christmas on me.  I can’t even think about putting up lights again.”  

    “I didn’t. Kat’s Collie ran into the garage and destroyed our Christmas bin.  We’ll have to run to Target to get a new one.”

    Stephanie rolled her eyes and surveyed the damage.  “Freakin’ neighbors.”

    • Yeah, I agree the details around the couple are great.  The interaction is palpable.  Very fun, I also knew people who kept decorations around from the previous holiday for WAAAAAY too long as well.

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jeanette: Write a book! That is all.

      • Jeanette R. says:

        @Shane. I’m trying!  I’ve written 21 chapters and I have serious writer’s block.  Can you believe it?

        • Shane Arthur says:

          @Jeanette: You know… if you follow that rough outline you wrote prior to those 21 chapters, you won’t have any blocks! 😉 (end Larry Brooks channeling session)

          • Jeanette R. says:

            @Shane LOL! I have an outline and know where I want to take it, it’s just that since it’s based on a true story, I’m reluctant to be brutally honest. Sometimes I want to scrap it and start all over.  {Insert Deep Sigh}

          • Shane Arthur says:

            @Jeanette: If honesty, and reality, are brutal, so be it. If you scrap it, I’m sending Bobby and Billy over to your house for a protest.

          • Shane Arthur says:

            @Jeanette: I JUST read this about Fitzgerald…
            “As you can probably tell I’m partial to Fitzgerald. Unlike Hemingway or Melville, he had the guts to inject himself—his authentic vulnerable self, not a fabricated symbolic self—into everything he wrote. (Don’t get me wrong, Melville and Hemingway? Where would any of us be without them?) But Fitzgerald? He was as much Myrtle Wilson as he was Tom Buchanan or Nick Carraway or Daisy or Jay Gatz.

            “If not for Fitzgerald, I wonder if Eugene O’Neill would ever have had the courage to suck it up and write Long Day’s Journey Into Night or Moon for the Misbegotten or The Iceman Cometh? O’Neill already had the Nobel in his drawer and with debilitating Parkinson’s tremors; he could barely hold a pencil. He wouldn’t have been the first black Irishman to die with secrets. I think Fitzgerald laid the groundwork for the cathartic soul wrenching American writing—like O’Neill’s incredible trifecta—that followed his death. When I read Fitzgerald, I feel like a priest on the other side of a confessional.”

          • Jeanette R. says:

            @Shane. It is pure coincidence that my opening scene is in a confession booth???? I THINK NOT!

            Thanks for the quote. I needed that!

    • Ha-ha! I’ve seen “Slow, Turtle Crossing” signs, somewhere…
      Once again, an ordinary scene explodes with Jeanette-infused interpretation.
      I enjoyed this.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

  9. Hahahah!! I think I know these people…

  10. Frank Ruiz says:

    Jeanette!  You found an awesome theme (and timely one!) to tie all today’s words into!  I couldn’t even tell the words didn’t just organically come from your story!  Really well done!

    I think my story is stuck in the review column for Shane, but hopefully you all can see it after his review.

  11. Jen says:

    On Saturday, I’m running my second 15K. That’s 9 point something something miles. I’ve run farther than that before. On purpose. Thirteen point one miles. That is far. That is very very far. It’s farther than I drive to buy milk and bread.
     
    Before each race, I get a touch of the collywobbles in my tummy. My legs feel kind of rubbery and I think I might resemble a Weeble Wobble. Remember those: they teeter totter but they won’t fall down? Except, I think I might fall down. I feel nervous because I’m not some young whippersnapper named Holly or Kat with a razzle dazzle running jersey, bells on her feet, blasting along in a sparkly tutu.
     
    But I will wrestle my body into they lycra tights. I’ll groan as I lace up my shoes. And I’ll remember my plan. Once I start my music, I’ll begin to bob my head. I will thrum with the crowd, adrenaline flowing, breakfast lurching, limbs not limber but ready to move. I will tell myself to resist starting out like a collie who just spotted a rabbit. I will tell myself to start with a slow intention of crossing the finish line. I will be the turtle who finishes the race.
     
    Then, that afternoon, I will make like a cat, find a blissful ray of sunshine and be even slower, because then, I shall sleep.
     

    • Cool picture, I can see the person getting ready and preparing for the race.  I have never run a race before, don’t have the endurance unfortunately though I always tell myself I want to some day.

    • Beautiful description, and the first positively uplifting piece I’ve read, yet, here today!

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Jen: I’ll tell you what I like to tell all women… “You still got it, girl!” Good for you getting out there and proving you can.

    • Do the ladies race with tutus? I gotta see that!
      Best wishes on the run.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

      • Jen says:

        Yes, Mitch. They really do. And not just during races that fall during Halloween weekend. All. The. Time. Not this lady. I have personal bests to set. 😉

    • Jeanette R. says:

      @Jen. This story took me back…I used to run marathons/half marathons for six years before I took a break this year.  There’s nothing like feeling that role of emotions before/during the race and then complete euphoria when you’re done. I highly recommend it to everyone.

      • Jen says:

        There really is nothing like it. It was the impetus for my first book, running. And it will be what helps me clear my head to write this novel! Trying to decide if I need to up my game and run a full marathon.

        • Jeanette R. says:

          @Jen. I won’t lie to you…it’s a lot harder than a 1/2 marathon.  I’ve done 3 in all types of weather conditions and it’s not for me.  I prefer the 1/2’s.  But there are some who excel with the distance.

    • Dee says:

      I admire you for this – I have seen runners in a marathon in Dallas and the younger me wanted to be out there with ear buds plugged in, running with the crowd. The real me knows my feet would not cooperate but I love to walk!  The best inspiration comes when I walk at the track, listen to music and just let all the stress go – you gave us such a great picture here.  (The snarky me snorted at the tutu line!) You GO girl!

  12. Dee says:

    gonna try this this weekend – Poets Society meeting tonight and these words are killer lol

  13. Rebecca says:

    Barney, the big brown and white collie watched Henry, the rabbit, as he scampered about in the neighbor’s yard. Barney noticed Salem, the black cat of the neighborhood perched high in a tree, watching the rabbit. Wobbles, the squirrel, spotted Salem and ran away as fast as he could.
     
    “Woof!” Barney tried to get Salem’s attention. “Meow!” Salem replied. The rabbit’s ears perked up; he moved slower across the yard.
     
    “Chirp, cheep, chirp, cheep” sang Holly and Kat, the two sparrows who always sat on the wires looking down into the yard where the rabbit was. Salem began to climb down the tree; nice and slow, nice and slow. He leapt onto the big turtle statue that was in the center of the backyard, his tail flicked back and forth.
     
    “Woof! Woof!” Barney began to bark, to warn the rabbit.
     
    “Thpst Hiss!” Salem’s warning to Barney to mind his own business. Henry spotted Salem.
     
    “Collywobbles!” shouted Henry. He ran towards the fence, towards Barney, dove underneath it and transformed into 10-year-old Maggie McKinley, Barney’s owner.
     
    “Maggie, Maggie! Where are you?” shouted Grammy McKinley.
     
    “I’m here Grammy,” shouted Maggie.
     
    “Child, where were you? asked Grammy with a stern look on her face.
     
    “I was playing in the backyard,” said Maggie. Her hands were behind her back, fingers crossed.
     
    Grammy bent down and looked Maggie in the eyes. “Maggie, I do believe you’re lying to me.
    Something tells me you were practicing shape shifting again,” said Grammy.
     
    Maggie giggled. She knew there was no use in lying to the oldest, living witch in the world.

  14. Rebecca says:

    @ Mitch … Thank you! I may continue with this story … I’ll add it to my list.

  15. siggiofmaine says:

    The collywobbles
    were unnerving as
    I thought about what
    it was I was about to do.
    .
    “Never !”  I said,”Never !”
    I swore up and down,
    that I’d never give in to peer
    pressure.
    It was a matter of class and
    upbringing.
    Lower class indeed.
    .
    I thought about how I would explain
    myself.
    It was so unlike me to give in
    like this.
    My energy became slower
    and slower.
    Drained by the collywobbles.
    I moved like a turtle
    unconcerned about the race.
    My dead husband would say,
    “my grandmother was slow,
    but she was old.”
    .
    Now he said that lovingly
    and in jest.
    For his grandmother
    was not slow,
    she moved like a rabbit,
    with speed and grace.
    But I digress, as usual,
    to postpone my trip.
    .
    I fed the cat,
    took the collie
    out for her constitutional
    before I left home for
    the big city.
    .
    The collywobbles made
    me feel paralyzed in fear.
    Most people get the wobbles
    going in,
    not wobble out
    of these disreputable places.
    .
    I took a deep breath,
    and took a cab.
    When we arrived,
    I got out..
    and did not wobble.
    I’d thought and thought,
    and decided,
    It will be.
    my daughter’s name
    wrapped in Christmas holly,
    a festive tattoo
    by Kat VonD.!
    .
    Sigh.
    There’s no tattooist
    a  better artist ,
    nor a better
    tattooist
    to be found in
    the world.
    .
    I guess it is better
    to follow the
    rule
    “Never say never”
    for it will happen
    for sure
    .
    .

    • Dee says:

      I have wanted wings for years – just little ones on my shoulder blade..too chicken and too cheap lol…maybe there is still hope!

      • siggiofmaine says:

        I took this idea from my mother’s nagging about the quality of people that got tattoos and told me to NEVER associate with those people.  Well I married a Navy man, with a typical Navy Mom tattoo.
        You would have thought he was a mass murder.  She never knew of my son and his wife’s tattoos.
        There’s always hope.  My son and his wife have several tattoos each…they save to get them from the best person they can afford.  It is worth smaller and better than big and a big blob later when the tattoo fades.  I form scars, so am not a candidate…but live a block from a very excellent artist here in Maine.
        Maybe some day…wish you luck.  Siggi in Downeast Maine.

        • Dee says:

          Siggi! I grew up believing the same as your mother! It was how my mother was raised so …But then I met a young man who was a pastor and had tats all over. He explained the symbolism of the ones that were not obvious to my kids’ youth group one night. He was a walking sermon.  It changed my mind. All I could think was how committed he was 🙂

    • Siggi, nice build-up. I was wondering, “What could be so awful…?” LOL
       
      I agree. I have one of the fraternity brands – and I wasn’t even impaired. Crazy, but not impaired.
       
      Cheers,
       
      Mitch
       

      • siggiofmaine says:

        I took this idea from my mother’s nagging about the quality of people that got tattoos and told me to NEVER associate with those people.  Well I married a Navy man, with a typical Navy Mom tattoo.
        You would have thought he was a mass murder.  She never knew of my son and his wife’s tattoos.
        There’s always hope.  My son and his wife have several tattoos each…they save to get them from the best person they can afford.  It is worth smaller and better than big and a big blob later when the tattoo fades.  I form scars, so am not a candidate…but live a block from a very excellent artist here in Maine.
        Maybe some day…wish you luck.  Siggi in Downeast Maine.

      • siggiofmaine says:

        Mitch…
        If you’d had my mother nagging about the evilness of tattoos your entire life, this would have easy for you to figure out !  Like a broken record.
        She was very outspoken all of her life…lots of fodder for writing !
        Thanks for taking the time to leave a comment.
        Peace, Siggi in Downeast Maine

    • Shane Arthur says:

      @Siggi: I love how you string words together to make them so much more.

  16. Dee says:

    What To Do With a Sick Collie

    If he has the collywobbles
    and he wobbles after rabbits
    chasing silly pretty baubles
    you should never feed him holly
    tea from kat is a bad habit

    if he slowly coughs up furballs
    like a silly willy kitty cat
    and tries to wear a turtle
    for a winter doggie hat
    then the cure will just be slower
    you can bet the hat on that

    riffing off Vivien Shipley

  17. Rebecca says:

    @ Shane … Thanks … I was inspired by Halloween, my pets, wildlife and nature.

  18. Kelly says:

    MORAL: ‘TIS BETTER TO STICK YOUR FOOT OUT THAN YOUR NECK

    Holly, our collie, came home today
    It borders on silly to mention
    the case of the collywobbles that sent her away
    was caused by a major indention
    she made in the back of our turtle, Turturro
    when left home alone for a night
    She stalked ‘im slow, but he walks a lot slower
    Thank goodness they’ll both be all right
    The rabbit just watched, but the cat tried to stop it
    she wobbles some now that she’s lame
    that’s our Lady Katherine, nearly a martyr
    for keeping her foot in the game

  19. sh13151223 says:

    It was slow like a turtle or even more slower, the wobbling started from the legs, then like the cat chasing a rabbit, sending collywobbles inside it grew intensely, no escape now. The turn is slowly nearing, Holly and Kat and me, profuse sweating, their turns are over, lucky fellows. The door opened, there are nine or eight of them ready to intersect me like hungry collies with intellectual and literal knives. I am done, dreams of a job are flying away leaving me all alone.

  20. Pam says:

    Holly‘s menagerie of animals included a rabbit called Wobbles, a Cat called, unimaginatively, Kat, a turtle, which her mother said gave her the collywobbles when it looked at her, and a Collie who, despite having supposedly been bred to chase sheep around a field, ran slower than slow when Holly took him out for a walk.


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