The exercise:
Four lines of prose about: the band.
It's snowing at the moment. Which would be fine, but I need to go out and grab some more firewood at some point if I want this fire to last until morning.
And I'd rather not go out there right now.
Mine:
"Hi Mom, what's going on?"
"Honey, you need to come home to talk some sense into your old man."
"Mom, he's eighty-five now - isn't that old enough for him to make his own decisions?"
16 comments:
Does this mean that it's time for you to spend a day chopping firewood and stacking it by the house? Or has that all already been done, and you just had to pop out to the store? Clearly not a fun job late at night and in the chill of winter!
Heh, I wonder what music he plays in your piece. I'm hoping for Hair Metal!
The band
Charles Asciugimento, Head of Building Security, eyed the three-piece Mariachi band from his vantage point on balcony. They seemed innocuous enough, being jolly with their instruments and chatting to shoppers who walked past and threw them coins. But then, he'd recently been reading about acoustic warfare, and brown noise.
He turned to his assistant and said "Turn the pressure hoses on them," as he walked away.
The Band
The percussion band got together in the street for one huge jam session, well, it was a guise for a protest march, really.
“Just play the samba as you march and if any reporters try to interview you, don’t say anything political,” said the band leader.
The politician arrived on the podium and started spouting off on her rampage against diverse immigration but her words were drowned in the foray of drum beats.
I was like the little drummer boy, a step ahead of the rest, a reporter swooping down on me to ask the inevitable question of why we were here and I answered, succinctly, hoping to hit on the point,
“We’re just here playing music from different cultures to demonstrate the importance of cultural diversity.”
Blair woke to, a bitch of a headache, which felt like it was going to turn into, a monster of a headache. His mouth felt like, Mexican ass, or was that, Tequila ass? It had been a long time since he had last done it but now, too late, he remembered why he had sworn never to wear, The Band, on his head, but nerves and fear had driven him to desperation. The Band made him do funky shit which he would never normally do, and now he just knew that Father Marc was going to kick him out of the choir.
@Greg - love it! Hose them puppies down. @Writebite - I think every political speech should have a band playing so you can't hear what they are saying. You may be onto something. @Marc - you go gramps.
@Iron Bess - I LOVE it!! haha LOL Seriously, killing myself laughing here.
I haven't a drop of inspiration today, I used up my mojo writing a chapter for a Protag collab. I mention it here, because I owe a chunk of the credit to Greg for the inspiration I got from his chess boxing haiku from the other day. Thanks Greg!!:
http://www.protagonize.com/story/the-casting-call/170240
Being ever the literalist I'm afraid this is what happened.
I heard them up among the whispering pines singing songs about Kingdom come and the trials of wearing a long black veil.They helped me to realise the shape I'm in and deal with the weight of the world that I was bearing. I still remember that beat up old chevy and the roadtrip where they spent the day travelling across the great divide and then the night they drove old 'Dixie' down. Some lazy summer afternoons when I'm out at the old fishing hole I can still hear the echoes of the their music up on Cripple Creek.
@sister christian - ah ha! now I know who you are... on Protagonize *giggles*
@Greg if the old man was my hubby it's be Boston Prog Core (a mix of progressive and hard rock) but he's not an old man yet.
The Band
She wasn't quite sure how to spell their name; Descent, Dissent. She went with the latter, Descent didn't fit with the music they played. She grinned as she handed the bundle of fabric to the Bassist. They made out as the Drummer and Guitarist hung up the sign on the studio wall.
ditto on the current weather. it's pretty to look at, not pretty to be in.
mine
"No, you don't get it: I'm with the band."
"Sir, I'm not sure you know how many times I've heard that in my life."
"Dude, I'm, like, the drummer, y'know?"
"Oooooh, that's why I don't recognize you."
"The wedding ring symbolizes unity because it is an unbroken circle without beginning or end. Today Abigail and Edward will exchange rings as they vow to join their lives together and love one another unconditionally. May I have the rings?"
Edward turns to Hugh his best man, and holds out his hand.
"Oh, yeah, sorry mate." Hugh says as he quickly rifles through the pockets of his suit and comes up empty.
Edward pales almost instantly and angrily blirts out "Bloody Hell! Hugh you daft git! Don't tell me you forgot the band!"
Great work all. It's late, on a train with a blackberry, 10mins to midnight - need to get my Saturday writing done. This is awkward, but wonder if anyone gets what I'm doing here.
Delta Uniform Delta Echo, the mission is a go.
Roger that, Bravo Uniform Delta Delta Yankee, commencing firing of rubber band.
Delta Uniform Delta Echo, that was awesome!!!!
Sierra Hotel India Tango, I think he caught us.
My apologies to anyone who is actually into math. I just pulled this out randomly in an attempt to be clever which not entirely sure it worked all that well.
And, David, I get it! And love it. My e-mail address was similarly established. : )
"Or," chimed in Nelson in his well-enunciated, although somewhat high pitched voice, "We could call the band 'Idempotent Semigroup'."
The outburst of laughter he let out sounded as if a rather large quantity of coyotes and pigs had formed a choral group.
The other five boys took the next minute, in which Nelson was completely oblivious to anything but his own hilarity, to pass around the same disbelieving look and shake of the head.
No one spoke even one word because, while the formation of their much desired band now faced perhaps an inevitable series of embarrassing and irreversible events, they had to try and, unfortunately, Nelson's father was funding them.
@H.N.: Heh, a band is indeed a semigroup with idempotent operation! I thought you might like this song, based on your prose today!
Greg - well, I had done enough to fill up our box in the backyard, but the supply is running low. So it's time to chop some more.
Hmm, that's a good option. Gangsta Rap would also work.
Better to be safe than sorry, right Charles?
Writebite - I'm with Iron Bess, I think you're on to something here!
Iron Bess - poor Blair!
Sister Christian - ah hah, thank you for making the connection for me! I fear that if I'd been left to my own devices I'd never have figured it out :P
GZ - lovely descriptions and atmosphere.
Elor - haha, nicely done. Love that she wasn't sure how to spell their name.
Jack - ouch, poor drummer.
Krystin - hah, nice twist on the prompt :)
David - haha, very subtle but I gotcha. On the second read, maybe, but I gotcha :)
H.N. - great description of the laugh :D
marc and bess, ha, another true story
Greg- Thanks, that was fun! Most of it was pretty far over my head but I enjoyed it all the same. Almost as much as the Periodic Table of Elements song. : )
David - that was Foxtrot Uniform November November Yankee.
Grond - you songster you! lol
@All that was a semi true story. I think I finally know how to spell the band name, now that they are defunct... I did at least marry the bassist, but the banner (it was uber and not just because I made it) is forever lost. *pout*
And I loved all the entries. particularly the ones that used band not as a music group. :}
:} Cathryn
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