Monday, December 31, 2007

Writing Exercise Results

The task was to write a scene involving an unlikely black ops division.

Jack was a Salvation Army Major, black ops section. Salvos will deny they have one, but they do. The section even has a motto, "Cram the fear of God into 'em." That's just what Jack was doing at the moment.

"You better pray, you stupid bastard."

"I...I don't know the words."

Sweat was pouring off the guy, so was the blood. So much so that it
was hard to tell what he was losing faster.

Karen, outside contractor, put a couple charged wires through his
belt loops. They weren't touching him so he felt nothing, yet. Then
she just stood there with a bucket of water until the little light
went on in his head and he knew what he was in for.

"Oh, God, no, I'll do anything..."


"Our is..."

"Who are in heaven."

"...who art in heaven..."

He looked around the dingy room. Looked like the thing hadn't been
cleaned in years. It was so dirty and faded that it was hard to tell
which walls were painted and which had wallpaper. They had holes in
them straight through the pre-war plaster down to the wooden slats
the plaster used to hang on. Hadn't been electricity here in years,
which explained why ops had to bring in storm lights.

"Keep praying, you bastard, if you don't want a bucket of water
tossed over your crotch. And when you're done - one way or the other
- you and I are going to talk about the exorbitant rents you've been
charging widows for this dump."

--D Jason Cooper





Warm water running.


Biohazard plastic bag with easy seal,


Gag a maggot, Odor guards.


Replacement self-closing waste disposal system for males.


Hygienic tape in case of emergency.

Air freshener.


Gas mask.


Waterproof underlay.


Waterproof overlay.


Waterproof spray guards?



Latex gloves ready.


Latex gloves on.

Uh, this one ripped.

Latex gloves ready, again.


Baby not screaming.

Check, not screaming.

Anti-crawl guard.


Then go, go, go, go, go!

--Dave F.

3. (SFWA/BO--Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers Association, Black Ops)

"Another writer, code named Dave F, is about to qualify for membership. Agent Thai Stick reports his short story has been accepted by Evil Monkey Magazine."

"Crap! Our membership database computer is still full. Tell Agent Stick he must stop the publication at all costs."

"Mr. Monkey, I have reason to believe that Dave F's story is a Mesopotamian tale that he had translated into English and claimed it as his own."

"Mr. Stick, I personally know Mr. F and I'm in his writer's workshop. I helped refine the story."

"You don't believe his last name is really 'F' do you?"

"It's his pseudonym. His real name is Dave Q.

"You can't publish this story; it is a national security matter."

"I don't believe you. This story will be published."

"This is Thai Stick. Evil Monkey Magazine is playing hard ball. Shall I use the Nuke Option?"

"All means are approved, but when you go back in time to disappear Evil Monkey Magazine, try to avoid side effects like--"

"I know, like when I turned the 'Los Angeles Herald-Examiner' into 'Evil Editor Blog.'"

--Bill Highsmith

"The shipment is here."

"Did they bring everything we ordered?"

"Sir, yes sir--four crates of semi-automatic rifles, ten of bullets for them, half a ton of plastic explosive, three cases of grenades, and a couple of Gatling guns."

"Excellent. Are the teams ready?"

"Sir, yes sir. Everyone's in camo and Kevlar armor. We have the targeting radar up and running, and the snipers are locked and loaded."

"What about the tracer bullets?"

"We won't need those till it gets dark, will we?"

"No, you're right. Did everyone bring a packed lunch?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"All right, synchronize your watches, everybody. Then the teams move out, five minutes apart, and infiltrate your preselected targets. This is going to be the most successful PBS pledge drive ever."


The doorbell interrupted Ben’s Sunday afternoon nap. He got up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, hello Amanda.”

“Hi, Mr. Anderson.”

“That time of year again, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson.”

“Put me down for one of the Thin Mints.”

“Just one?”

Ben patted his belly. “Yeah, you know. Trying to watch my—" Something stung his neck. He grabbed at it, but then everything went pink and wobbly. Rainbows burst from his mailbox. The oak trees in his yard sprouted faces and debated quantum mechanics. The neighbor’s cat bumped into him as it brushed by, walking on its hind legs, smoking a pipe and reading Chaucer. “Pardon me, ole chap,” it said. Then it hopped on Ben’s Harley.

Dizziness washed over him. He felt himself floating. He was on his back staring at the ceiling. Half a dozen little girl faces, all pink and green and purple and yellow, arranged in a perfect slowly spinning circle, gazed down at him. And they chanted.

“Thin Mints…mmmmmm…Carmel deLites…mmmmmm…Peanut Butter Patties…mmmmmm…and new this year…Cinna-spins…mmmmmm…cinna-monnnn-y…buy them…buy them…again and again…buy them…buy them…in multiples of ten…mmmmmm….

The doorbell interrupted Ben’s Sunday afternoon nap. He got up slowly, rubbing his eyes. He was drenched in sweat. What the hell had he been dreaming about? He could never remember his dreams. “Oh, hello Amanda.”

“Hi, Mr. Anderson.”

“That time of year again, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Anderson.”

“I’ll take ten of each. No wait!”

Amanda raised an eyebrow.

“Make it twenty.”



writtenwyrdd said...

These are all funny, but my fav is Dave F's on changing the diaper. I couldn't figure out what was going on until the very end.

Anonymous said...

I liked blogless's story. Maybe it is because I recently wrote a girl scout story myself--bzzzzt bzzzzt--oh, the colors. I liked blogless's because . . . It was the best EVER. I liked the baby ops one, too--bzzzzt bzzzzt. Ow. I'll be leaving now. (I liked b_t's. I can't seem to remember the others.)

--Bill H.

Dave F. said...

I wanted to write something light and fun for the end of the year. What's more of a black ops than changing a diaper for some people?

Biil, you got an odd sense of humor there. SFWA and Evil Monkey Mag...

The rest are all well done. Strangely warped and twisted stuff.

lizr said...

They all gave me a good laugh, but especially numbers 4 and 5. Loved the Girl Scout cookie one, heheh.