Facing Death
13 Jan 2020Today’s prompt: “Describe the face of someone you love.”
Covered with buboes. But then, so is yours. It’s the mid-1300s, and everyone’s got the Black Death.
Today’s prompt: “Describe the face of someone you love.”
Covered with buboes. But then, so is yours. It’s the mid-1300s, and everyone’s got the Black Death.
Today’s prompt: “List the ways in which you fight life.” [I decided to make a small tweak to the prompt for the purposes of my story.]
Most people think Death’s game of choice is chess. Possibly they’re familiar with the painting by Täby Church; more likely they’ve seen some reference to Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal. So when Death came for you, and you challenged the embodiment of mortality to a game for your life, you were surprised when Death agreed to a boxing match.
For a dude who’s basically a skeleton in a robe, he packs quite a wallop. It wasn’t even a good match; you went down in the first round. And you never got up again.
Today’s prompt: “A recipe for beat(nik) soup”
Duh doo-doo-doo-doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo…(cue Tom Servo singing the background base line for beat poetry, like so).
You take yourself a 15-ounce can of cannellini beans, man, and sink the sharp round blades of the can opener into it, cutting it open like the knowledge of your mortality cuts open my soul. Pour those beans out into a pot like you poured out your heart in your poetry on stage. Then take two carrots that cried out when pulled from their mother earth, same as you’ll cry when you leave it, and slice them up into coins like you use to pay the ferryman across Styx. Add two sliced ribs of celery, yeah, man, ribs, like they slid a knife between to get to your heart. Add a quart of chicken stock, a chopped up onion, and one chopped up beatnik, yeah man, that’s you. I guess it was a really bad time to take up beat poetry. Let’s turn it up to a boil and send you off with some snaps. [The beret-bedecked audience members snap their fingers farewell to you.]
Today’s prompt: “Your best birthday”
Your best birthday was when you turned 9. Your parent got you a Gameboy, and you got to go to Chuck E. Cheese. You played tons of skee ball, ate pizza, and high fived the guy in the mouse costume.
Your worst birthday was when you were out with your friends at your favorite bar when a guy in a Chuck E. Cheese costume staggered through the door brandishing a chef’s knife, which he plunged into your stomach.
Today’s prompt: “Your worst experience on an airplane”
You got so airsick that you died of dehydration from all the puking. There were not enough airsick bags.
Today’s prompt: “Go to the Merriam-Webster Word of the Day Web site, www.merriam-webster.com/word-of-the-day, and write a story based on that word.” (The word for Jan. 3, 2020 was “foible.”)
Due to your flawed fencing form, you found the foible of your foe’s foil perforating your throat.
Today’s prompt: “Write two descriptions of yourself for an online dating service. First, be the kind of guy/girl who’d be taken home to meet the mother. Then try a hot, sexy version.”
I try to keep my life centered on the important things – family, friends, faith, and good barbecue. I enjoy coaching little league, baking apple crisp, and going on picnics.
Where did I put my wrench?
Gosh, what a good day for a hike.
What Would Cthulhu Do?
Golden Retrievers, manning the grill, making human sacrifices to the Great Old Ones.
I’m the person your mother warned you about.
Where did I put my riding crop?
What a great day to go skydiving. Or skinny dipping.
How do you pronounce ‘fhtagn,’ again?
Motorcycles, the smell of leather, making human sacrifices to the Great Old Ones.