25 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Go to a new restaurant you’ve been dying to try. Enjoy your meal. Go home and write a review as an undercover food critic.”
Last night I went to Revenge, the swanky new restaurant on 14th. I had to make reservations a day in advance. When I got there, the place was packed. Seems like everyone wants some Revenge.
The atmosphere had a flair for the dramatic. The walls were painted black. The wall in front of me had a giant red slash over a foot wide going from down left toward the upper right part of the wall. It had a faux dry brush effect to it, as if it had been painted by the brush of a giant. Behind me was a red ‘R’ rendered in a graffiti art style. The lights were dim. The music had an “eerie classical” vibe.
The man at the table next to me had ordered a Montezuma’s Revenge (a shot glass of tequila dropped into a Corona), and the woman with him had a classic martini. I ordered one of the restaurant’s specialty drinks, the Bloody Vengeance, a blood orange margarita with chile salt and a drizzle of habañero oil. It was a gorgeous pinkish red, sweet and citrusy with a hit of heat at the end. Yes please.
The bread course was well done as well – a sweet and savory black bread with chia seeds and black sesame seeds, fresh from the oven, served with a soft whipped butter that melted right into it. I stared at the walls as I sipped my drink and munched my bread. Bloody and black. I’m sensing a theme.
At long last, my main course came. When I called the restaurant, I gave them my name and the date and time I wanted to make a reservation, and then I was asked to give them another name. I gave them yours. (You know what you did.) My waiter came out with a covered dish and dramatically lifted the lid to reveal your head on a platter.
I must admit to being a bit disappointed in the main course. The presentation was excellent, of course. Your head was served over a carrot and parsnip purée and garnished with fresh herbs and a dusting of sumac. But the whole dish was thrown off by the fact that your head was not properly chilled. It’s almost like the proprietors of Revenge don’t understand the proper serving temperature of their eponymous dish.
23 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Make up a Peanuts character. Write a scene in which your character interacts with the other Peanuts characters.”
One minute, you were texting your best friend with plans for a game night. The next, you find yourself in a two-dimensional snow-covered landscape next to a doghouse and a Christmas tree that seems magically more filled with pine needles than it should. You are round of face, short of stature, bristly of hair, and you are wearing a witch’s hat, carrying a broom, and trailed by a black cat.
“… is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you…” Linus van Pelt trails off during his memorized rendition of Luke 2:8-14.
“Who’s this kid?” Lucy van Pelt rudely shouts.
“I think you showed up in the wrong holiday special,” Pigpen quietly suggests to you.
You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out, only “Wa-wah wa-wah wa-wah.”
The Peanuts characters stare at you in horror. “They look like a kid,” Charlie Brown says. “But they talk like an adult!”
“And they’re dressed like a witch in the Christmas special!” Lucy shouts.
“The way they talk must be witchcraft,” Sally Brown whispers.
“Charlie Brown,” Linus says in his most commanding voice. “What did you get in your bag at Halloween?”
“I got a rock,” Charlie Brown says, confused.
Linus begins passing rocks to everyone in the Peanuts gang. They hold onto them with their stubby fingers, surrounding you.
“Exodus 22:18,” Linus says. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”
21 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Losing your memory”
Huh. For the life of me, I cannot remember how you died. Was it choking on a churro? Tetanus? An industrial accident? Sharks? Sharknados? Just drawing a total blank here. Man, this is going to bug me for the rest of the day.
18 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Write down as many clichés and aphorisms as you can think of. Go back, and star the ones you actually say.”
Pushing up daisies
Sleep with the fishes
Bite the dust
Meet your maker
Kick the bucket
Rest in peace
Bought the farm
Taking a dirt nap
Gave up the ghost
Belly up
Pop your clogs
Six feet under
The way of all flesh
Went to the big farm in the sky
Which ones do I say? About you, all of them.
16 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Write a scene in which two people leave believing opposite things are true.”
You and your traveling companion enter a courtyard. At the end of the courtyard are two doors, guarded by two soldiers.
“One of us always tells the truth and the other one always lies,” says the soldier on the left.
“I’m the one who always tells the truth,” the one on the right says.
“Which of your doors leads to the Treasure of Scrizzle-de-Dizzle?” you ask.
“Mine does. His leads to deadly peril!” the one on the right says.
“No, mine does. His door leads to certain death!” the soldier on the left says.
“We need some way to tell them apart,” your companion says.
“Good idea,” you say. “Do you two keep up on current events?”
“Yes,” the one on the left says. “Isn’t it horrifying, the way Putin is attacking Ukrainian civilians?”
“Nonsense!” the one on the right says. “We should be grateful that Putin is destroying the Nazis in the Ukrainian government.”
“The president of Ukraine is Jewish!” the one on the left says.
“Oookay,” your traveling companion says. “Do you have thoughts on Covid?”
“It was engineered in a Chinese lab!” the guard on the right says.
“The first time someone came by and asked about that, you said it was a hoax, even though it had killed hundreds of thousands of people,” the guard on the left says.
“No I didn’t!” the one on the right says.
“The next time, you said taking Hydroxychloroquine would cure it,” the guard on the left says.
“No I didn’t!” the guard on the right says.
“Okay, okay,” you say. “How about what happened on 1/6?”
“The insurrection?” the soldier on the left says.
“Those folks were all just tourists,” the soldier on the right says.
“You can’t be serious,” the one on the left says.
“Okay, I think we know everything we need to know,” you say, striding toward the door on the right.
“Buddy,” your traveling companion says, “you’re going the wrong way.”
“Not according to Fox News and all my new friends on Twitter,” you say.
“I’m going the other way,” your companion says, walking to the door on the left.
“Suit yourself,” you say.
You open the door and are immediately torn to pieces by were-bats.
14 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Go ahead. Judge a book by its cover. What does it look like?”
The cover of Adam Silvera’s “They Both Die At the End” is a very effectively rendered book cover. It’s a picture of what appear to be two young men, one with a backpack, although either could be a short-haired woman or nonbinary individual. They are depicted from behind and in silhouette. Skyscrapers are in the background, and a full moon appears behind one building, casting a shadow behind the couple in the foreground in the shape of the Grim Reaper. The cover is largely monochromatic, using gradations of a lovely purplish blue. Our couple is in dark silhouette against the rich blue of the cityscape, which rises up in a gradient to dark skyscrapers against a lighter blue night sky flecked with white stars. There are two whorls of darker blue in the sky, and a third, pointy patch of darker blue below and between them, forming what look like the eye sockets and open nose of a skull. The text on the cover is in a very nice sans-serif font.
It is, overall, a very elegant cover, effectively foreshadowing in multiple ways the doom of the main characters already foretold in the title. The one criticism I have is that since they render the book’s protagonists in silhouette, we can’t see your likeness at all. Or maybe this book isn’t supposed to be about you? Whatever. You die at the end, too.
11 Mar 2022
Today’s prompt: “Go through a day saying yes to every impulse and offer. If you are not physically restrained, write about the experience and where you end up.”
“You want whipped cream on that?” the barista asks.
“Absolutely!” you say.
Sipping your foamy drink, you stroll outside, where you are confronted with a baffling array of apocalyptic brochures.
“Would you like a copy of The Watchtower?” a young woman asks you.
“Hell yeah!” you exclaim.
You stroll along the sidewalk, reading your Watchtower and sipping your foamy drink, when you bump into a man in dark robes.
“Sorry!” you yelp, dropping the Watchtower into a puddle. The man brushes whipped cream off the front of his robe.
“Think nothing of it, my friend,” he says. “But perhaps I can interest you in something?”
“Sure,” you nod enthusiastically.
“I belong to a dark and eldritch organization working to resurrect the Great Old Ones and bring about their reign of terror on Earth. Would you be interested in joining us?”
“Damn right I would!” you grin.
The man takes you to the cult headquarters and fits you with a robe. Before you know it, you’re standing in a dark, candle-lit room in a circle of other robed figures who’ve been chanting in a language with a lot of weird glottal stops. And then a man who appears to be a priest steps forward.
“Friends,” he says, “A sacrifice is needed in order to bring the Great Old Ones to our plane. A human sacrifice. Before I send you out into the world to find a victim, I thought I would first ask if anyone would like to volunteer for that particular honor?”
“Ooo ooo pick me!” you shout.