Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #449

This is a writing prompt. Bet you can’t do it! Take the 10 random words below and crush writer’s block by creating a cohesive, creative short story! And remember: after (if) you finish entering your submission into the comment field, 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.) NOTE: Our <b>bolding</b> plugin is gone, so you’ll have to put <b> before and </b> after each of your challenge words if you want them to stand out, but NOT REQUIRED THOUGH! Or, as cleverly done by a CCC-er you can CAPITALIZE the challenge words in your piece.

  1. Suitable
  2. Prevent
  3. Strain
  4. Surplus
  5. Mounted
  6. Records
  7. Change
  8. Caper
  9. Zombie
  10. Fasten

25 Comments on “Writing Prompt – Creative Copy Challenge #449”

  1. Katie increased the volume on her music to suitable level to drown out the therapist’s inquiries. A tune from White Zombie mounted in her ears as she watched in a deadpan stare the man squirm in his chair before her. The doctor’s attention fell to her parents who looked tired and strained from the amount of delinquency records stacked on the table between them. Any attempts to change her behavior and prevent further consequences would die at the hands of this final evaluation. Her parents signed the release form in front of them and pushed it to the man who would commit her to an institution. Katie’s last and final caper had left a surplus of damaged property in her wake. Attendants appeared and fastened metal clasps to Katie’s wrist to lead her away. She almost smiled.

  2. Anklebuster says:

    “Daddy?” Mike licked his fingers before grabbing his big boy spoon. “What’s a vegetarian?”

    Abner chuckled, “A starving zombie.”


    Abner looked at his son’s serious face. When did his little monkey change into this studious inquisitor? He stopped laughing and gave his son an answer suitable for a six year-old.

    “Oh. Suzie told us that we would all evolve and stop eating animals.” Mike dug into his Froot Loops. “Will we still be able to eat hotdogs?”

    Abner rolled his eyes theatrically. “That Suzie just wants everyone to look like a giraffe so she won’t stand out. Her big head must put a giant strain on that scrawny neck. I’ll tell you what, kiddo. You and me, we’re carnivals. We have fun eating meat!”

    Mike giggled, much to Abner’s relief. The conversation dissipated into a random babble of soccer practice, sour milk and pizza for dinner. Abner had no idea just how much Suzie had infected his son …

    Ten Years Later

    “Dad?” Mike sipped herbal tea, while his father gnawed on a t-bone. “What does carminative mean?”

    Abner nearly choked. “It’s a fart-inhibitor, son! Has Suzie been in your ear about carnivores, again? What a dork!”

    “Hey, hey! That is my girlfriend we’re talking about. She is too delicate to say things like you do. She was trying to get me to eat a caper a day for its carminative benefits.” Despite his stern tone, Mike smiled at his father.

    “A sprinkle a daaaaay….”, Abner’s off-key sing-song trailed away. He got up, tried to fasten his belt and gave up. As he mounted the stairs to hit the bathroom, he intoned, “Listen, Mike, you like meat, I like meat. Just eat what you want and fart when you have to. We’re animals. Women expect no less than gross behavior from us. Trying to prevent nature from acting is like spinning records backwards – the devil comes out.”

    Mike shrugged. “I dunno. I will try them. She picked up a dozen bottles from the GNC surplus bin.”

    “Suit yourself, kiddo. Hey, guess what? In high school, I failed chemistry, but passed gas! How is that even possible?”

    Mike burst out laughing. “You’re so stupid.”

  3. KathleenMK says:

    The strain of the week left Isabella feeling like a zombie. She struggled to summon up a modicum of strength as she worked to uncork a bottle of Malbec. I will not let the records show that this week got the best of me, she thought as she wiggled the cork out of the neck of the green bottle. The hollow pop was a small reward, a token of momentary success. She released a deeply held breath as she poured a generous helping of the liquefied Bordeaux grapes into the two bulbous goblets waiting to be filled.

    Moments later she cupped the glasses in one hand and wrapped her fingers around the neck of the bottle carrying the aromatic treasure gingerly as she walked toward the table. After setting the stemware and bottle down on the oak she turned to her computer. Within a few clicks she had Pandora pulled up; her stack of records lay huddled in a box, jealous of her computer. She clicked here and there. Moments later the station was changed and Chris Proctor’s acoustic rendition of Nights in White Satin began coming out of the speakers.

    “Where did you put the capers my love?” Jason asked from behind the refrigerator door.

    His question caught her attempting to partake in the libations, she halted her actions, “oh, we need to open the new jar. It is in the pantry,” she said before returning her lips to the rim.

    “Voon-da-bar,” he responded gleefully as he shut the door and made is way to the pantry.

    He loved getting time in the kitchen. Although he did not like seeing his love so tired, she was glad she was letting him create yummies tonight. He mounted the step stool to see the contents on the top shelf. Once locating the jar that held the unripened flower buds, he returned to the cooktop with the jar of capers. He added a spoonful of them to his lemon butter sauce.

    “Are you ready to relax my love?” he asked as he stirred.
    “Yah huh,” she mumbled as she allowed her tongue to dance around the mouthful of crimson liquid. He plated the salmon and asparagus.

    “Do we have enough wine?”

    She swallowed. “Well, I just began sampling this Malbec and a glass is waiting for you….”

    “Okay, that will be a good start,” he said as he set the dinner plates on table in front of her.

    He stepped back, placing his strong hands on her bare shoulders. He could not help himself. He began caressing her smooth skin; it quickly evolved into a short message.

    “Wow, you’ve taken up growing marble in your back…” he said as his hands ventured across her skin.

    “Yes, yes it seems I have,” she said before taking a deep breath, holding it and slowing releasing it.

    “Well then … although the week has been trying, it is merely a diversion in the goal of relaxation. After a glass or two of wine, a tasty dinner and a hot bath, in which I will bring you desert, well this week will not be able to prevent a suitable surplus of endorphins to flow within your body, not once I get done with you,” he said bending down kissing her on the neck.

    Good bumps raised on her skin.

    It would be an hour before he unfastened the barrette that kept her hair up as the warm water began relaxing her muscles.

  4. Joanne says:

    Most of his gold RECORDS were MOUNTED in the hallway of his penthouse overlooking Central Park. The SURPLUS were in a box. Every Sunday at 9am he would CHANGE the display. Five records would go into the box and he would FASTEN five from the box onto the wall. At 9:30 he and Charlotte would sit in their same seats on the enclosed balcony and eat the same Sunday breakfast they always had—bagels from Zabar’s with cream cheese, sieved hard boil eggs, diced onions, and capers. He would always take one CAPER from the small bowl to see if it were SUITABLE. To PREVENT having the wrong ratio of sugar to coffee there was a red dot in his coffee cup, and Charlotte had learned to fill the cup exactly to that dot. After two months of doing the same things in the same “perfect” way, the STRAIN was getting to her. She was beginning to feel like a ZOMBIE.

  5. Chet says:

    Fasten your seat belts folks,” said Bucky Kemmel, the CEO of Zombie Records, to the clutch of reporters gathered around him. Crowded into the small studio space where Tony Lagoria launched the company’s fortunes with “Starlight in the Windows” fifty years before, Bucky opened the shipping carton sitting on a stool in front of him and lifted out the top album like it was the communion host. “This is the last LP that will ever be manufactured,” he said, holding aloft a copy of Backwhacker’s heavy metal opus ‘Suitable Thievery.’ “The compact disc, music piracy – the ‘Internet’ whatever the hell that is – it’s all put a strain on our finances for years. I’ve made the difficult decision that enough is enough. The age of vinyl is over.”

    The news that ZR Inc., the last producer of LPs, was closing – the faders dialed down for the last time, the mics auctioned off, the lights turned out in studios that had heard music history – sent shock waves through the entire music industry. But nowhere more so than the cramped, lime-green stucco, one-bedroom apartment on better side of the Alvarez district where Cannie Moreberry, Zombie’s Administrative Assistant to the CFO, lived. Kemmel had kept his decision a secret to the last, even from his best friend and Zombie CFO Roger Merre, Cannie’s boss. The news could not have come at a worse time.

    Cannie knew the truth, the truth that Kemmel either didn’t or more likely wouldn’t see. Zombie Records, formerly known as ‘Regina Recordings’ under Kemmel Senior, had been burning thorough its substantial cash reserves for decades, the surplus moolah bequeathed to Bucky along with the business bankrolling a lifestyle whose end was inevitable. Bucky and ‘Rog’ were more interested in hanging out with the bands than in running a business. They’d hired Cannie right out of business school on the theory that at least someone in the office ought to know some accounting.

    He’d seen right away that there was no way to prevent the catastrophe. No legal way, that is. But skirting well past the edges of generally accepted accounting practices, Cannie had cobbled together an elaborate scheme of investments, loans and real estate swaps that had kept the happy cash flowing and that incidentally would neatly unwind at the end into a wind fall for him. And he was this close — THIS close — to wrapping up the financial hat trick of the decade when Kemmel called the news conference.

    Cannie was not one given to panic, though, even in the face of financial ruin and possible jail time. He saw immediately that there was still a way out. It was going to take a ballsy caper to pull himself out. But he’d have to work fast, before anyone else got around to remembering all the gold and platinum discs mounted on the walls of the front office. And before the bank sent somebody to change the locks.

    • KathleenMK says:

      Welcome to the Fold Chet ~~ After reading this… you fit right in!

      Nicely written story that kept me reading all the way to … just before the locks were changed.


      Write On,


    • Anklebuster says:

      Whoa, Chet! That’s a novel opening for sure! A financial thriller novel, that is. 🙂

      I love the premise and would buy this book to see all of the shenanigans.

      Also, welcome (back? Seems like I recall this style, but your name is not in the Community Links.)



      • Chet says:

        Thanks Mitch – I need to sort out adding my name. I only did one other prompt so far but they are great exercise.

        • Anklebuster says:

          Cool. Kathleen or I can add you 🙂

          I love these prompts, in and of themselves. As a bonus, they sometimes lead to fuller stories.
          You might recognize some published authors in the list! (Are you published, too? Your writing reads like it.)



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