I'm enjoying the prompt inspirations you're providing us with as you catch up on comments :) It's nice to catch up on your life and how it's going. I am now wondering if either you or Tammy managed to paint yourselves into a corner while repainting the restroom floors though....
For today, let's return to one of your continuation prompts, since that's what they're intended for, after all :)
A gathering of goons "I had the floors of the common areas waxed yesterday," said Mr Clean. He produced a toothpick from a pocket and tapped it lightly against his front teeth. "The rooms are beautiful, pristine. I think they're some of my best work yet. And now there will be a gathering of goons this afternoon who intend to smudge the floor, put greasy fingerprints on the walls, and generally befoul the air." He shuddered, and though Spiderman was sure it was a put-on, it looked realistic. "Please, head them off before they get there. Let them gather outside." There was nothing gentle about that 'please'; it was the request of a murderous dictator whose guards had swords at your throat. Spiderman, who was wondering how you knew when frostbite was setting in, considered pointing out that no-one was going to gather outside in this weather when there was the option of being indoors but decided that an argument would only increase the chances of this really being frostbite. "Gathering of goons to be gathered elsewhere," he said. "Got it. When will they start arriving?" Mr Clean shrugged. "How should I know?" he asked. "Just wait outside the front door for them."
Spiderman found a tree to huddle in where the leaves shielded him from the wind slightly and he felt like he was freezing to death a little more slowly. He perched, watching people avoid the building -- for all it was a beautiful, spotless construction word had gotten around about the difficulties people had living there. He was surprised that any goons would try and gather here at all, unless they were being paid to by someone who wanted to upset Mr Clean. Finally, a group of three men shuffled towards the doors, and Spiderman realised that the goons must be gathering. Each was old enough to be his grandfather, and he realised, to his mild horror, that his task was to break up a gathering of geriatric goons. On the one hand, this was going to be easy. On the other hand, he was being asked to terrorise pensioners. He made his mind up, and stretched for the rope tied to a branch, ready to swing out and drop a weighted net on them. His chilled muscles refused to respond though, and he fell face-first out of the tree.
2 comments:
I'm enjoying the prompt inspirations you're providing us with as you catch up on comments :) It's nice to catch up on your life and how it's going. I am now wondering if either you or Tammy managed to paint yourselves into a corner while repainting the restroom floors though....
For today, let's return to one of your continuation prompts, since that's what they're intended for, after all :)
A gathering of goons
"I had the floors of the common areas waxed yesterday," said Mr Clean. He produced a toothpick from a pocket and tapped it lightly against his front teeth. "The rooms are beautiful, pristine. I think they're some of my best work yet. And now there will be a gathering of goons this afternoon who intend to smudge the floor, put greasy fingerprints on the walls, and generally befoul the air." He shuddered, and though Spiderman was sure it was a put-on, it looked realistic. "Please, head them off before they get there. Let them gather outside." There was nothing gentle about that 'please'; it was the request of a murderous dictator whose guards had swords at your throat.
Spiderman, who was wondering how you knew when frostbite was setting in, considered pointing out that no-one was going to gather outside in this weather when there was the option of being indoors but decided that an argument would only increase the chances of this really being frostbite.
"Gathering of goons to be gathered elsewhere," he said. "Got it. When will they start arriving?"
Mr Clean shrugged. "How should I know?" he asked. "Just wait outside the front door for them."
Spiderman found a tree to huddle in where the leaves shielded him from the wind slightly and he felt like he was freezing to death a little more slowly. He perched, watching people avoid the building -- for all it was a beautiful, spotless construction word had gotten around about the difficulties people had living there. He was surprised that any goons would try and gather here at all, unless they were being paid to by someone who wanted to upset Mr Clean.
Finally, a group of three men shuffled towards the doors, and Spiderman realised that the goons must be gathering. Each was old enough to be his grandfather, and he realised, to his mild horror, that his task was to break up a gathering of geriatric goons. On the one hand, this was going to be easy. On the other hand, he was being asked to terrorise pensioners.
He made his mind up, and stretched for the rope tied to a branch, ready to swing out and drop a weighted net on them. His chilled muscles refused to respond though, and he fell face-first out of the tree.
Grouping
All
Together
Hurrying to the
Excitement
Raving, ravaging
In through the town
Never pausing in destruction
Galloping gleefully forward.
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