I see a loophole in this prompt. What is it, you ask?
Couldn’t I use foresight to foretell what would kill me? Logically, the reason my life span would be deducted by one day is because of some sort of deteriorating disease. Then, I would have to dive deeper into the future and inform myself how to prevent it.
I may now use foresight freely. Problem solved!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Fill In the Blank.”
…and they all drink beer. Duh, it’s a bar.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”
I bit a dog named Bob. Yeah, I bit it, not the dog. Allow me to explain the story behind this oddity.
It all began on a typical hot summer day. Sweat trickled down my neck as ink stuck on my essay paper. I paused, reviewing the words I wrote. Ironic, I told myself, only 50 words popped up in my regularly overpopulated mind after an hour passed.
Bored and frustrated, I gazed upon the classroom’s window, taking in a beautiful scenery of the clear blue skies and a lone blue jay perched upon an old branch.
Ten minutes later and I finally snapped out of the hypnotizing view of the blue jay. Craning my neck towards the clock, my eyes registered 11 : 43 A.M. I switched on my panic button and rushed to fill in the missing sentences.
The school bell rings just in time as I finish placing a period. Off to lunch.
Plates and utensils smashed against each other, creating squeaking noises which irritated my ear. Wait, is this becoming a bore? I’ll skip to the dog biting.
As I made my way home, I could see the alarmed expressions stitched in their faces. I was curious, my inquisitive side kicking in. Oops, sorry, skipping.
I stood agape, watching my house burn down. “My dog”, I exclaimed. I sprinted into the house, the smoke burning my eyes. “Bob!” I yelled. I heard a bark. I saw the outlines of him. I urged him to come to me but he wouldn’t. Poor little creature was scared. So I bit him and carried him with my mouth just as a cat mother would do to her kitten, all the way to safety.
And that’s where my story ends.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “On the Edge.”
How do I keep an even keel? Hmm, an even keel… yup, that’s surely headed for my idioms list. Now where was I? Yeah, the post.
Restraining the anger that boils in me can be quite a hassle for the patience bar in me stretches only to this small ———– ( measure that with your thumb and pointer, small isn’t it? ) The hassle I undergo is simplified by activities I am passionate about. For instance:
RedefiningRandom 