nonamedufus

***first para to be read in a deep voice, with a hand to one ear like the guy doing v/o for a movie trailer*** In a world where global warming screws with our temperature-focused brains I stand tall - well, at least 5'10' - among my neighbours and friends and wear shorts at the crack of spring. No, that's not a euphemism for having forgotten my belt. It's an expression of optimism. You might say that in my house April showers lose long May trousers. (Yeah, I thought of that myself.) Cargo shorts, golf shorts, cut-offs - you name it, I can't wait to expose my scrawny little legs to all and sundry not to mention all the sunshine. It's as if someone brainwashed me, like in that movie Manchurian Candidate - the one with Frank Sinatra, not Denzil Washington - into wearing shorts from May to October. Thankfully I do not cluck like a chicken. And once I don shorts there's no going back. Let the temperature take an unseasonable dip, I'm still wearing my

He immediately felt remorse for his actions. Brian didn't know why he had been so cruel to his classmate. But it had come so easily. He'd just opened his mouth and the words came flowing out. And then his former friend had cried and now Brian sat in the Principal's office waiting for his mother who had been called at work about the incident. She immediately felt remorse for her actions. She didn't know why she'd been so cruel to her son at the breakfast table. She'd just opened her mouth and the words came flowing out. Brian had been dawdling, eating a little slowly and she had yelled at him to hurry up. And now the school was calling her about some fracas between Brian and some other little boy. What was that all about? The Principal immediately felt remorse for his actions. He didn't know why he'd been so cruel to Brian's mother. He'd just opened up his mouth and the words cam flowing out. He spoke without thinking, criticizing her for B

I had absolutely no idea on how to come up with a story utilizing this week's writing prompt. I decided to go for a walk and see if I could get those creative juices flowing. I headed downtown, parked the car and started walking. On Bank Street I was immediately surprised by the number of buskers and street performers and, while entertaining, found them to be a distraction. I couldn't concentrate amidst the cacophony resulting from the overlapping outputs of these buskers and street performers. I walked on. I rounded the corner from Bank to Sparks Street. Now Sparks Street used to be reserved for cars. Now, though, it was an outdoor pedestrian mall and was a natural home to many buskers and street performers. As I marched on I left a few dollars in a few open guitar cases. Some of these buskers and street performers were quite good and I wondered just what life had in store for some of them. I felt they wouldn't be buskers and street performers for long because the

Bob and Barry didn't know much about the construction business. But having inherited a significant amount of money when their grand pappy died decided to invest it in a construction firm. The first thing they thought they ought to do was come up with a slogan. You know to catch folks' eye when they searched the internet for a construction firm. So they started bouncing ideas off of each other: "Let's Get Hammered" "Awl Do a Great Job" "You Saw Us First" "Let Us Nail You" "We'll Ply Our Wood for You" "We're Just Plane Good" But none of their ideas really seemed to work. "I dunno" said Bob. "Maybe we need to be a little more personal. Let's see. How about..." "Our Men are Built" "Our Guys Don't Hoot at Women" "Woah, woah" said Barry. "Those won't work. They're sillier than the other ones we came up with. "

Gunther was quite pleased with himself. He'd made it to the final five of the Swedish version of MasterChef. This was the serious version of the show. There was no hint of the Muppet's Swedish Chef anywhere. Gunther knew if he wanted to make the final two, and after that win, he had to make a special repast that would impress the judges and, in future, result in his moving on. But he had to come up with this himself. Matilda, Bjarne, Enok and Lukas - his competitors - would be planning their individual meals too. But he had to go them one better. He had no beef with the other chefs. But he knew he couldn't be chicken about his efforts. He set to work. When the mystery ingredients were revealed he knew absolutely what to do in the hour allowed. He knew his Kroppkakor, Swedish Meatballs and Toast Skagen required a deft touch. But he knew he was up to the challenge. As the allotted time wound down Gunther knew he had created something special. But he wasn't sure