Friday July 1st, 2011

The exercise:

Happy Canada Day! On a completely unrelated note (or is it?), give me four lines of prose about: the infestation.

For tomorrow's market we're bringing a few things for the first time this year: potatoes, beets, carrots, cabbage, and... cherries! Should be a good day.

Mine:

"It's pretty clear what the problem is here," Inspector Adams said with a sympathetic frown. "Just look at those potato plants over there, and the rows of carrots and onions down here."

"Oh no," Alexander moaned, "we were sure we'd gotten rid of them last year."

"No siree... you've definitely got yourself a farmer infestation."

5 Comments:

Greg said...

Happy Canada Day to you to! Is the day when you all drink "Canada Dry" and wave hockey sticks at each other? (On that note, why is that mixer called Canada Dry?)
Sounds like a great range of products for the market; I could use some potatoes as I intend to make gnocchi tonight. The cherries sound good too though!
And a farmer infestation... I bet they're very destructive when clearing the land for more crops!

The infestation
"What's going on here?" Dr. Septopus started coughing as clouds of thick, oily smoke belched from the Green Lightbulb's bedroom. Sylvestra, looking far too smug, paused the smoke machine for a moment.
"The Green Lightbulb has a greenfly infestation!" she said triumphantly.

Andrew said...

Hiding in a dark alley, glancing frantically in both directions, stood a person. They looked frightened by something.

All of a sudden, ten flashes went off at once, and the guy flinched. His manager later told him, "Sounds like you've got an infestation of fans."


Ummm... Not very proud of this, but it's just practice. And thanks for your welcome here. I really like reading through all the old posts.

Denin said...

A foreboding, a chilled cloak, settles upon my shoulders as I look out on the gorgeous sunrise. I wonder what challenges the sun encounters on its journey around the Earth each day. And what challenges it brings to those who look to it for light.

Silently I leave the kitchen window and walk to the refrigerator. Its silver outer shell seems almost like an exoskeleton, protecting the precious food inside. Fruits, grains, meats. I pull out a green pepper and reach for a knife. Its blade gleams in the youthful morning rays. I cut the pepper and eat it while heading downstairs to shower and dress for the day. I forget about the cloak.

When I come back, the kitchen has been painted black by an enormous shadow and the sun's rays have been defeated. The cloak envelops me and is accompanied by a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I am taken over by fear. I am gripped by the need to identify my terror. Panicked, I lunge to the window, seizing the knife. The sky has been overtaken by a writhing, convulsing wall on the horizon. My ears are consumed by an intense noise, a hum threatening to snap my eardrums like a brick thrown through a taught sheet of plastic wrap. The insects have arrived.

Denin said...

Whoops, sorry, didn't see the four line prose part. Got a little wrapped up in my writing!

Marc said...

Greg - glad to see things are returning to 'normal' with those three :)

Andrew - exactly, nothing but practice here. And who knows what might come of it?

Glad you've been enjoying yourself here so far :)

Denin - fantastic descriptions! Very nicely done.

And no worries about going over four lines - I'm never bothered by it. Besides, who I am to say 'stop' when somebody gets on a writing roll :)

Oh, and welcome to the blog - looking forward to reading more from you here.