Birds Must Fly, Writers Must Write, So...
CrazyTrackLady
Posts: 1,337 Member
I challenge all you MFP writers to a ten-minute writing assignment. You have ten minutes to respond to the prompt below - no more, no less. When finished, post a new ten-minute prompt.
Pushing Buttons: Use this as the central theme in your writing.
Now, set your timer, adjust your watch, and....three....two....one...
GO.
Pushing Buttons: Use this as the central theme in your writing.
Now, set your timer, adjust your watch, and....three....two....one...
GO.
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Replies
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Working with children can be fun and exhausting. I'm so ready for school to be over. While I've had a great group of students AND parents (hard to get both in public school which is why I work in a Catholic school), I am almost finished with some of the "usual culprits" and their so-called "problems". Problems that, to them seem enormous, but to me, elicit barely more than a "buck up, kiddo, if you think this is tough, wait til you're my age and overwhelmed with responsibility. Now, shaddup and get back to work, ya whiner." Granted, I don't actually say the last half of that sentence, but I think it.
My 6th graders this year are wonderful. I think this was God's way of rewarding me for last year, which I will refer to only as "The year of pushed buttons". I swear all of the students and their parents from last year got together one night at the start of the year and said "Okay, guys and gals, let's organize a "button pushing network" to drive Mrs. B crazy. Whose in?"
It started with one mom, who felt it was her personal challenge to inundate me with endless emails, each more frenetic and hyperbolic than before. Buttons Pushed? You bet. Thankfully, she couldn't push my principal's buttons, as hers did not actually move much.
It quickly spread to a "push a thon" -- complaints to the principal: one student is forced to pick up bloody tissues -- NOT TRUE. One student claimed I pushed him to the ground and laughed at him in front of the rest of the class - AGAIN, NOT TRUE. One parent claimed I was giving her child bad grades "because I didn't like his behavior in my room." Another parent...well, you get the jist, right?
It wasn't a single button I had pushed...it was a whole freaking qwerty board of them.
Oh well, I am going to enjoy my last few weeks with these wonderful kids -- because I understand next year's batch is going to find a whole new set of buttons to push.0 -
sorry i didnt get a chance to do this i got home late from work and spend the night with my kiddo next time you throw something like this up ill make sure im able to
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Yeah, can't do this in a 10 min time span from when it's posted.
One more drop of sweat fell from Howard Mason's forehead, adding to the tiny pool collecting on the bottom of the van he was in. In front of him was a large cooler, larger than the usual found at box stores or online retailers. Cooler probably wasn't the right word, as they were locked by some kind of internal mechanism. There were large tubes connected to the left end of the cooler that went out and up to a collection of metal canisters, with symbols and chemical names that Howard didn't recognize, held in place with a metal gate. Another set of tubes went out from there to another cooler to his left, this one a little smaller in size length wise, but it had added depth and the lid opened in the center.
The cooler in front of him had something else nearby, a metal box with a number keypad using old-style keys, the kind of keys last seen when he was at the technical college for classes while in high school. Above the numbers were three lights, red which was off, green which was off, and yellow was on. The box was mounted on a small pedestal which was just the right height for someone to kneel or lean in front of it to operate this.
The rest of the van, at least the back, was sparse. The front of the van, as he turned his head to look at it, was about the same age as the back -- except for the monitor with the face on it looking at him. The small camera on top of the screen let Howard know his every move was watched. As he let the adrenaline wash through him, the face talked to him.
"Don't give me that look Howard. Just walk away."
Howard's face gave away his surprise that the face knew his name. He didn't know who the face belonged to. It had very chiseled features, short brown hair on top with no facial hair, and nothing else noticeable.
"Please Howard. Don't look surprised. Do as I say, and walk away, you have no chance of hitting the right buttons to get your son out of whichever container he's in."
Looking back at the keypad for a second, Howard moved towards the screen and monitor, preparing himself and his best voice possible. His near six-foot frame made it a little difficult to move around, but he was more concerned that his voice, which cracked at all the wrong times, would fail him at this wrong time.
"Let my son go."
The face turned right, chuckling at him, which made Howard realize he was wrong. There was something else noticeable about the guys face -- the tip of his nose was pushed up a bit. It wasn't much, but it made his nostrils look bigger.
"Howard Mason. 32, married for 8 years. You've had a desk job at the same place for the past 12 years, meaning you're overweight, probably in the obese range, and you don't do any exercise as evidenced by the heavy breathing you did when you came in the van. You have little debt except the house, and when you are home alone you visit porn sites with the privacy mode of your browser."
Howard worked really, really hard to keep his face straight.
"Let my son go."
"No." The face replied, his eyebrows going up slightly. "You let him go. You're so smart and gung-ho to get him out that you took out the driver of the van and the handler in the back area -- an amazing effort considering your lack of exercise and activity in your life. Must have used all the information from your movie and tv watching to get through all of that, hmm?"
The Face paused for a moment. A bird tweeted from a tree in a yard nearby, breaking the silence.
"You see Howard," the Face finally spoke up, "I can run this van remotely. I just need the people inside the van for the snatch and grab. So I will give you -- 6 minutes to find the right code to free your son."
Howard moved back to the keypad, grabbing both sides of it as he stared at the numbers.
More sweat fell down his head.
"Push the wrong buttons, and you will send Halon through the tubes instead of oxygen killing him. Push the right buttons, and the cases will open. The timer starts now."
-- ok, i probably took a little longer than 10 min to do that.0 -
Clarification: the ten minutes is from the start of YOUR writing, not the start of the previous person's writing. But thanks for participating! Hopefully more entries will emerge.
And I liked how you handled that!0 -
[foot tapping rapidly]
ok, where's the next one?0 -
[foot tapping rapidly]
ok, where's the next one?
End your writing with the words: "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."0 -
i was sitting at my desk minding my own business, working away, when my cat started crying. not an unusual occurance, but he was crying pretty loudly. i get up from my desk to go find him. hes crying, and crying, i'm calling his name, hes crying, i'm calling. finally find him on top of the 6ft tall wire book case in the middle of the living room. of course he got himself up there some how and now he cant get himself down. he hates being stuck so hes wailing at the top of his lungs.
now i have to paint a picture here. the wire book case holds all my kitchen appliances. i was not careful in how i put all my appliances away. so the heavy stuff is on top, the light stuff is on the bottom and the whole thing is not anchored to the wall. on the top ledge with clyde is my stand mixer.
i go get a stool. while i'm getting the stool, clyde somehow wiggles himself back and forth with enough force that the whole book case comes crashing down. it was amazing to watch. clyde of course hisses, screams and lands on his feet, scampering off under the bed.
the living room is in shambles. my stand mixer landed on my treadmill, bending one of the arms. my juicer will never be the same. the debri field was scattered across the living room making it impossible to traverse. i pick my way through the rubble, the plastic bowl from the cuisanart shattered. my big pyrex bowls in pieces.
i gathered the broken and bent pieces into a pile, righted the book case and surveyed the damage. wondering if my broken wedding gifts were worth the errant cat, i started cleaning up.
thats my story and i'm sticking to it.0 -
This one took a bit longer to figure out...
The fork picked at the lasagna, layers revealing themselves like an archaeological dig. The hand holding the fork was attached to an arm, leading up to Daniel Parson's lanky, 15 year old form. His eyes stared at the food, lost in thought.
"Danny!" his father's voice interrupted the excavation on his plate.
"Huh?" he replied, blinking rapidly and sitting up slightly.
"Your mother asked you a question. What happened in your day?"
Daniel put his fork down, and wiped his lips with the napkin that was in his lap as he turned to his mom. She was on his right, turning away from his infant sister. Her food seemed to be anywhere but her mouth. His mom waited, her blue eyes open, waiting to see if her son will add more conversation to her life than what she had with her daughter during the day.
"What happened in my day? Well..." Danny paused and opened his mouth to reply, thinking back to relay the day.
Images fly past in his head. Nodding hello to his friends. Getting shoulder-slammed into a set of lockers in the hall way. Getting a test paper back with a "C-" in big red letters. Smiling to the librarian as she checked out his book. Scarfing through his lunch food to the dismay of his friends. Propping his head up in the Lit class afterwards as his teacher read off some passage from some author who is listed on the syllabus which is good because he'd never remember the name otherwise.
And gym class. Getting divided up into teams to play dodge ball. (Weren't there rules against that?) Lasting about 8 minutes before getting hit in the face which sent him spinning around and to the floor. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes to find a pair of pink shoes in front of him.
"What are you doing?" the voice asked, the condescension in the tone unmistakable, despite the noise level in the gymnasium.
Daniel stood up quickly and found himself looking down, as he was just a few inches taller, at Linda Carlson. She had brown eyes, and brown hair that was tied back to a tight pony tail and she was just starting to grow in all the right places and he could just barely see through her white t-shirt which clung to her in just the right
"Are you still staring at me?" she asked again. Her friends, which came in to view behind her, sneered and scoffed at him.
"No. Sorry Linda." Daniel managed to get out.
Rolling her eyes, Linda turned to her friends letting out a "whatever", and walked to his left. They didn't participate in the activities in gym class when they didn't want to, but still managed to pass the class.
Daniel turned to his left, trying to get back into the game despite only about 5 seconds having passed.
"LOOK OUT!"
Through the air came a fireball, the ball coming just within 2 feet of him. Daniel looked at the ball, and to his right where Linda's head was.
His right arm came up in a pico-second, the hand open -- catching the ball dead. His fingers gripped the edges as tightly as his hand could as the impact noise echoed through the gym. Linda yelped and jumped, turning left to find Daniel's hand closer to her face than she would ever want.
The gym was silent.
Linda followed the hand, up the arm (which looked quite tone and muscular at the moment which is kind of odd considering ) to see who held the item that nearly hit her.
Her eyes met his, turned to the hand still holding the ball, and then back to his eyes. Her lips turned up just for a bit, and she mouthed out a 'thanks' before turning away to her friends walking off the floor again.
Daniel swallowed.
The noise in the gym came rushing back, as well as another ball hitting the left side of his face knocking him over again.
Daniel closed his mouth, and tilted his head to the right and then straightened it out again.
"Sorry mom. Nothing exciting happened."
"Oh, " was her only reply, disappointed.
"Yeah" Daniel said, picking up his fork, finishing the arranging of a noodle in the lasagna. The edge of the noodle matched, at least it did somewhere in the back of his head, the smile he saw that over took the rest of his day.
"Well, I'm a little surprised that nothing exciting happened." his mom said again, trying to get another bite in to her daughter's mouth.
Daniel stabbed the lasagna with a little more force, taking a piece of the noodle smile into his mouth. After chewing it in to pieces and swallowing, he turned to his mom.
"That's my story, and I'm sticking to it."
--ten min is just not enough0 -
describe how a man would would race through a target-type store on black Friday to get the one item his kid wants.
He's tired, has had weak coffee, but would do anything for his kid.
It's not a toy or popular electronic device/video game system.0 -
The doors open, and he dashes through. "It's ON, SHOPPERS!" he huffs under his breath, yanking a shopping cart from the tangled mess the 17-year old, hungover teen with the angry grudge left for him the night before.
"Ten minutes, and I'm OUT of here". He darts his eyes to the left, then the right, scanning to red and white traffic signs hanging above his head -- Juniors, Misses, Woman's. "Aint goin there", he chortles "Old lady's got enough clothing." He pushes the cart forward, the left front wheel wobbling and grinding just enough to pull him to the left towards the clothing, despite his protestations. "SHEEEEEE IT!" he mutters, "I don't have TIME for this today!" Abandoning the cart, he trudges to the right, heading towards the back corner of the store. He scans each sign above his head: Office Supplies, Home Furnishings, Electronics, Sporting Goods. None give him the answer he's looking for -- what exactly do I buy for my ungrateful, snotty teen?" Deep in thought, he plods on - beyond the groceries (And, incidentally, ignoring everything SHE had written down on the list she stuffed into the breast pocket of his CarHart overalls, so there will be NO milk to go with the fish sticks tonight)
Suddenly, the idea hits him -- with perfect clarity. He stops dead in his tracks, and spies the one sign - a beacon, calling his name-- that holds his attention deficit addled mind in perfect silence: PHARMACY. "Yes! That's it, the PERFECT gift-- why didn't I think of this before?" He searches for the right aisle tags- toothpaste and mouthwash, foot care, eye care, first aid...then he spots the box lying neatly on its shelf. A smile begins to creep along the corners of his mouth. Eyes begin to dance, pupils dilating with growing excitement.
YES!, Yes he practically shouts as he reaches for the yellow and blue box. Others stare at him in befuddled amusement. One even taps him gently on the arm and says, "You okay, mister?" He looks at the guy, and lets out a low chortle. "Yeah, I'm here shopping for my kid. Ungrateful *kitten*." "Shopping for your son? Seriously? But, that's a box of Preparation H. How is this a gift for him?"
"Well, he's been a pain the *kitten* for sometime now. I thought I'd help cure him of that."
I "may" or "may not" have hit the prompt. Sorry, but sometimes my muse goes off on a tangent of her own. 0 -
Hehehehehe....
ok, that's good.
Didn't see that coming.0 -
Hehehehehe....
ok, that's good.
Didn't see that coming.
Neither did I. I had a moment where I unhinged my brain and let my muse loose. See the trouble she causes?0 -
Yeah, I can understand that.0
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I shall try now...
and yes, I have the timer set next to me.
"Yes, yes. Honey. Honey! Stop. Ok, look I know I have to get -- no, I do realize that this is my first Black Friday. You pointed that out to me last night."
"<sigh> honey -- i haven't had enough coffee, no, strong enough coffee to get all that. No I don't want to get a cart, I want to get in and out... quit laughing."
"Really, quit laughing, I know what I'm -- oh, they're opening up i gotta go. Why? Cause I need to focus, that's -- 'scuse me -- I -- sorry."
"Yes, it's a good thing I can -- whoop! what? No, it was some divider item used for herding shoppers. What's with all the runners, is there only one of a certain shoe on the shelf? Yes it is handy to have this earpiece on attached to the phone."
"Hut. <grunt>. Huh? No, i'm dodging clothing racks. Yeah I'm cutting through kids clothing -- aaaggh! No, almost got run over by a cart and the brontosaur guiding it. WHAT? I am being nice!"
"Hi. What? No, I"m standing in line in the electronics area. Just saying hi to the person behind me -- Why? No, I don't want anything here -- I just want to see the looks on others when they hear me say that. Bye!"
"Not here - not here - not here. ...... huh? That conversation? No, that was two women in the sporting goods department. Yeah, they were debating the size of weights to get. No -- aum... no, they didn't really need to work out. Well -- they just didn't. I didn't look at them for that long -- not longer than any other guy who's married and has a beautiful wife like I do."
"Oh, now you want to hang up? Hold on -- hut. oof. excuse me. pardon me. <gasp> huh. what? Nothing had to back track and look down an aisle. What? No I didn't see anyone I knew -- just had to rewind and look at something again. Like on the tivo -- you know?"
"Ok, now I really have to go. Yes I'm at the register. Yes. Yes. I told you I could get through in record time. Yes, I got it. Yes. I did. I'm pretty sure it will work. Yes, I know. Well, she's also been forgetful of a few things, rude to both of us, and just plain ornery. I think this heart rate monitor will tell us if our teenage daughter does have a heart beat or not."
Sorry, I went over by 2 minutes.0 -
Ok, New one.
Take an inanimate object, from anywhere (previous story or not) and make it move.
I've been sitting on this sequence for years...
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"But he didn't run away!"
The mom stood firm in front of the open window, looking out to the coming night sky. The last gradient of the sun was being overpowered by the coming night, which didn't help the face that her son hasn't been seen in hours. Behind her, the police officer was struggling to figure out what notes to write out. Next to him was the husband, his square glasses getting pushed up by a finger on his right hand as his left held pictures of their son.
"Ma'am, he's probably out playing with some friends..."
"The only friend he really has that he plays with is is stuffed tiger. And that's upstairs." she replied, matter-of-factly, watching the color palette disappear from the sky.
The officer shook his head, and looked over at the picture, talking with the father in about the photos.
"Yes, he is a good looking boy. How did he make that face at the table, and what is that food he's picking up with his fork? Really? And those snowmen, how does your son make them that big? What does that box say? 'Trans-mog -- what?"
The mother sighed again, wiping a tear away, struggling to stay upright as her right leg twitched a little bit. A single star appeared in the sky, prompting a smile.
"I want my son back, dammit."
The officer and husband looked at her, the officer with a look of understanding, the husband swallowing as the gravity of the situation began to settle in the pits of his stomach and began to grow larger.
"His stuffed tiger is in most of these shots -- you're saying he doesn't go anywhere without it?" the officer asked, smiling at the last picture of her son with a salad strainer over his head holding on to a toy ray gun in one hand pulling his stuffed tiger along in the other.
A roar came from upstairs that shook the house. The mother turned to them slowly, then crossed the room and bounded the 12 stairs in 3 steps. The husband and officer struggled to keep up, and managed to get up the stairs as she approached the door. There was the sound of sniffing and growling behind the door she was in front of.
As she put her hand on the door handle, glass shattered from inside the room and the sound of a window blind being broken into a million pieces. The mother looked at the husband with eyes that showed wonder and apprehension at the same time. The police officer put his hand on his gun, and was about to ask her to wait but she turned the handle and walked in any way.
The only light that came into the room was either from through the now broken window from the single star in the sky, or the hallway light behind them. The remains from the blinds hung from the top of the window and flapped outward. The father and officer went over to the window, watching the floor for glass
The mother stood by the doorway, taking in a breath, looking at the bed she made this morning after her son left for school.
The bed was just as she left it, except for one thing..
Using the last bit of Kleenex that wasn't used from tears, she wiped her eyes again and stood up straighter. The officer brought his head in from outside, as the father talked out loud.
"I don't know what that was." the officer said incredulously.
"The glass was shattered from in here to out there." the father said, just above a whisper.
The mother looked at the officer, and then past him waiting for the husband to look at her.
"Ma'am? You said earlier your son didn't go anywhere without his stuff tiger."
"That's right, " she said. Closing her eyes for a second, she sighed out a few words. The officer couldn't make out all the words, but only caught the last part : "...more mercy than I would".
As the husband stood up, realization in his eyes, his wife continued.
"I put his stuffed tiger on his bed this morning when I made his bed after he left for school."
"Where is it now?" the officer asked as he looked at the bed, the window, and both parents not wanting to accept the answer coming.
The mother looked at the husband, and raised her eyebrows at him, and then at the officer.
"Hunting."
I didn't use a timer for this one.
And I went back to clean it up a little bit here and there.0 -
Oooh, very Ray Bradbury of you. This reminds me of his story "The Veldt" -- ever read it?
I'll need a moment to get to this one, but I'm prewriting in my head as we speak!0 -
Oooh, very Ray Bradbury of you. This reminds me of his story "The Veldt" -- ever read it?
I'll need a moment to get to this one, but I'm prewriting in my head as we speak!
Haven't read it, but I seem to remember a radio show having adapted it.
Ok, I was right. Found it. It was an X-Minus 1 story from '55.
Now my question is if you recognized who the boy was that was missing?0 -
Five friends in a kitchen. Five air popcorn makers going full blast. Five black garbage bags half full of popcorn waiting for more. The sixth member of the group and the only woman walks around checking progress. She looks up at one of the guys and smiles an evil smile. She knew this was an awesome idea.
earlier that day the woman was waiting outside her apartment complex for a ride to work. Her brother was late as usual. After calling him for the fifth time, she decided the bus would be her best option. She called into work to let them know she'd be late, again. It’s a good thing she's the only one who can do her job. She’d make up the late start by staying late.
On the bus, ear buds in, she starts to think about how her brother just keeps screwing with her. She paid for half his car with the understanding that he would take her where she needed to go, when she needed to go. She had to get him back. She had to figure out a way to really get his attention.
They were always close siblings. She was two years older, and he always looked up to her. Since they were in high school they always loved to play practical jokes on each other. It’s started simply enough, a pie in the face, some silly string, then one time on a family camping trip she found herself set adrift in the lake. Well things when downhill from there.
Now they were 22 and 20. She had to think of something spectacular. And it had to include that god damn car! It was his baby. An older model Acura, blue, 5spd. He drove it like a race car driver. Yes it had to be about the car.
Once at work she was talking to her two coworkers. Popcorn, one of them said. Enough popcorn to fill the car. It will take him hours to get it out; it will be stuck in the air vents for years. Yes! Popcorn!
She conspires with her coworkers all through their break. Then she gets on the phone to a few more friends. They meet at her apartment that night. It takes forever to fill the bags. The power in the kitchen trips twice. They end up making popcorn in the living room and bathroom to save the circuit. But they make their goal, 8 big bags of popcorn.
She grabs her spare keys, they load the popcorn into 4 cars and head over to her brothers place. It’s after midnight, so very quietly they open the car, turn it on, open the sun roof and close the doors back up. Then the fun begins. As they're filling the car, they notice a rumbling sound. Thinking nothing of it, they continue.
On their last bag, with the car almost filled, her brother comes crashing out of the house yelling "what are you doing!" she laughs at him and says, "Just a little pay back".
"No you don’t understand, I’ve been meaning to call you, I’m not ignoring you, this car has issues, issues I just don’t know how to explain"
"What are you talking about’ but just then it becomes clear.
The growling sound gets louder, only it’s not so much growling, but more like gears grinding. Steam starts to pour from the engine compartment. The grinding gets louder, almost like a scream. All of a sudden the doors and back hatch blow open and the popcorn comes flying out.
Everyone hits the deck. Popcorn is pouring down on them like rain; the ground is covered in it. The lights on the car are flashing, the grinding sound is screaming, the popcorn is flying.
She rises up enough to see her brother, "what the hell is going on!"
"I have no idea; I think the car is alive."
"No *kitten*! How did this happen."
"Well I did get it from a Haitian priest."0 -
It's been too quiet....0
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Been busy, will play catch up once school is over for the summer.0
