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Monday, September 12, 2011

Writing Prompt-and-Share #21

Prompt-and-Share TGIF folks! Today's prompt is inspired by an idea from +Adam B. His suggestion, verbatim, is this: Take any short story or piece of a story you are working on, and rewrite it as though the characters are actually aware that is a story and you are writing it.
I'm going to open this up a little more and allow a piece to be written specifically for this prompt, though Adam's idea offers more of a challenge for you veterans. I'm also going to suggest that you may go back through the prompt-and-shares and do this to someone elses work. (That seems like a pretty daring and fun way to play this prompt, big kudos to anyone who manages that one) Word count no more than 500 please.
Already giddy to see where this goes!

My Submission:

Disclaimer: Please read my submission to yesterday's Prompt-and-Share to really get this. I've included it at the bottom of this post after today's submission.

Sergeant Hamstring? Really? What kind of frikkin name is that? She hates me, my damn Creator hates me. At least I get to yell at these little worms, so it’s not all bad. They may think standing out in the rain is an unnecessary abuse, but let them spend 3 years in a Vietnamese jungle and then we’ll talk about elemental insanity!

““Who here thinks they have the capability to withstand the forces of nature?” I could answer this one easily enough – not a one of these pansy-assed twerps could survive what I’ve survived. Shitheads. Let me see just one of them flinch, just one!

“The question is Sergeant, do you have the capability to withstand the forces of a woman?” Oh shit, not that one. One panty-raid, ONE and I’ll never live it down. I cringed internal and silently cursed My Creater as I approached the pipsqueak causing the issues.

“Back in line slug!” It was fun to yell at her. Exciting even, but did She have to make me spit? Women don’t take kindly to spitting. Wait! No wait! Woman Creator! She set me up! She won’t let me get away with this!

I cried out as my feet were swept out from under me. I arched my back as the pipsqueak’s knee dug into it, pain seething through my spine as she forced mud up my nose, in my mouth and my eyes, my poor eyes. Was there any hope, any mercy from Her at all?

Gasp! She’s giving me an opening. I can take the pipsqueak down! I lunged at her feet and flipped her on her ass. I was just beginning to think that maybe, just maybe My Creator didn’t hate me after all, until I saw the shoes, and realized she hated more than I could have ever imagined.

I sighed, curling into a ball against the onslaught, thinking once again, thus is the life of the perverted overly-assertive character.

Yesterday's Submission

“Who here thinks they have the capability to withstand the forces of nature?” Sergeant Hamstring barked at the row of young men and women before him. He walked up and down the human line, searching each face for any sign of movement. A nervous twitch, a smile, a blink even, could single out a soldier for his bullying.

“I do Sir,” a young woman shouted from behind him. He turned on his heels and quickly approached her, shoving his face into hers. It was a stare down. He concentrated on the drop of rain pooling on the tip of her nose. He as livid, it was a rhetorical question after all.

“The question is Sergeant, do you have the capability to withstand the forces of a woman?” She dared him. He thought of laughing at the little pipsqueak, but he had to be careful with the gentler sex what with all of these lawsuits going around.

“Back in line slug!” he yelled, purposely spitting in her face with the final word.

She swept his feet out from under him, kicked him in the throat and spun him onto his stomach. She rubbed his face in the muddy ground forcing dirt to enter all available cavities. He regained his breath, though not without effort and grabbed both of the pipsqueak’s legs out from under her. He was about to show her what a real man was made of when he noticed the amount of shoes surrounding them. Upon further inspection, he realized they were all womens shoes, and the men were still standing at attention in line.As the first boot-to-head was about to make contact, he felt overwhelming regret regarding the panty-raid the night before.

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