If they can do it...

A wise writer once said to me
"There's no such thing as writer's block.
Only writer's embarrassment."

Words to live and write by.

Name:

The truth is out there... some of it is even in my blogs.

Monday, July 09, 2012

Return of the Exploding Penguins

And we're off!

I rather liked what I came up with today. 10 minutes, 370 words.
The opening line was today's Toasted Cheese prompt.

Exploding Penguins came out of an old NaNo prompt I used way back when. I like tossing in exploding penguins when I can't think of something. This is all about writing being fun.

Sequels Aren't What They Used to Be

Coincidence? I think not. When she told me she’d been to see Exploding Penguins that night, I was sure she had followed me there. She didn’t see that kind of movie. Not a chick flick. No romance. Just pure action. My kind of movie.

So... why is she following me?

She told me she had two kids, and they begged her to see Exploding Penguins so that she could discuss it with them.

She told me she hated penguins, and wanted nothing more than to see them blown into bits. The whale calf was a bonus. And why couldn’t they have thrown in a baby polar bear in the carnage?

I told her that global warming and ozone depletion were taking care of the polar bears, and anyway, they were at the Arctic. Polar bears and penguins don’t mix, I told her.

She thought they would mix pretty well if they were blown up together.

I told her we’d mix pretty well if we were blown up together, but that I didn’t really want to try the experiment. And then I left.

Because I don’t like her very much. Her laugh is very shrill and fake sounding. I like real laughter. She hides all her wrinkles under Sally Hansen coverup #53. Or something like that. Anyway, I like real skin. Real curves. Her body is so artificial, I can’t imagine her mind being real.

And her watching Exploding Penguins, accidentally the same night I was out with my buds, well, that just proved it to me. With baby pink nails that are two inches long, you just do not watch Exploding Penguins.

Next thing I know, she’ll be breaking the nails on the video game and whining about how much the manicure cost.

No thanks.

I’ll pass.

And then she passes me on the right, and asks if I want to go see the world premiere of Exploding Penguins II. She has VIP tickets, and a guarantee we will meet Sean Cranapple and Robin Billybud. And the baby polar bear, who was not harmed in the making of the film. And then she grins at me and says “Global warming be damned.”

Damn.

I guess it is a date.

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