Funny Writing Prompts

Nancy slams the apartment’s door as she enters. A far cry from her usually peppy persona.

“I think Fran wants to break up.”

I look up from my spot on the couch.

“Did she say that?”

“Through…implications.”

I roll my eyes, returning to the commercial break.

Nancy pauses the TV, causing me to groan.

“I’m not your personal love guru.”

“I’ll give you five bucks if you just shush and listen.”

“Deal, but I draw the line at sex talk…of course any line can be erased-”

“Stop being so morally gray and let me talk.”

I sigh, letting her continue.

“She hasn't come by the diner in weeks, and she’s been looking at me funny.”

“How so?”

Nancy squints her eyes, attempting her best Fran impression.

“Oh no” I fake a gasp.

“What is it?” Nancy furrows her brows.

“Absolutely nothing, that's what, this is just like Dottie all over again.”

“You’re right…obviously…” She chuckles, before tilting her head. “what do you mean?”

“You were totally convinced Dottie Elson was straight as an arrow.”

“In my defense, she kept trying to recruit me for cheerleading-”

“And then you guys sucked face all through senior year, which I still haven't fully recovered from by the way.”

“You’re saying I'm reading too much into it?”

“Sometimes signals are like…terms of agreement. They don't really matter, and don't need to be read.”

“You don't read terms of agreements?”

“Nobody does.”

Later that day I'm sitting in a corner booth waiting for my pizza, and Fran announces her break, sliding into the bench across from me.

“I think Nancy’s seeing someone else.”

I nearly spit out my soda.

“She’s been acting sort of weird all week and she won’t make eye contact, like at all.”

“She's always weird.”

“I mean, it's not like we’ve made it exclusive, I just thought we were on the same page.”

“Similiar pages, different books.”

“Has she talked to you?”

“Yes, but she told me not to tell you.”

“So why are you telling me?”

“Well first of all, I never got my five bucks,”

Fran looks confused.

“Secondly, I am not trustworthy, and Nancy knows this.”

“Well what did she say? Does she still like me? She hasn't invited me to the diner in a week.”

“Fran…” I say, taking a long sip of my cherry coke before continuing.

“Yes…?” She motions anxiously for me to continue.

“Do you read terms and agreements?”

“Obviously there's important information in-”

“I thought as much.” I interrupt her.

“What are your talking about…”

“Fran, you and Nancy are fine.”

“Really? She said that?”

“Through…implications.”

Fran isn't following, so I add:

“What you guys need is a visit from the communication fairy.”

“Oh…right, you're pretty insightful.”

“Some might say I'm a love guru.”

“Anyway, sorry for getting you involved…though I suspect Nancy already did that?”

“Keen observation.”

“Is there anything I can do to thank you?”

“How much is my pizza?”

“ 10.99, plus tip”

“That should cover it, when you talk to Nancy remind her I don't do business with swindlers.”

“Watch it, that's my girlfriend you're talking about.”

Eggs. Flour. Milk. Honey. Eggs. Flour. Milk. Honey?? Shit. Shit. Why did I add the honey - That was meant to be for the end. I open the cutlery drawer to find a spoon. I need to get the honey out, it can still be saved. The drawer is stuck. It’s jammed by a tea towel. The honey is starting to sink into the milk and eggs, and the tip of the flour mountain in the bowl is beginning to cave. I’m yanking at the tea towel and it’s not coming out. I look to the kitchen bench, which has now become my tool bench. Dirty measuring cups are upturned and spilling remnants of milk and flour over the table. Two egg shells sit in a little puddle of egg whites and a dusting of flour is sprinkled all over the black bench top. The scales are balanced precariously on the edge of the sink and a little team of dirty spoons sit abandoned next the the mixing bowl. Wait - spoons! I pick up the nearest spoon dive in to rescue the honey. It drips off the spoon and I catch it with my other hand, reaching for the next spoon. It takes all 3 spoons and dirtying both hands but finally the mixing bowl is honey free. I dump the spoons into the sink and glance at the recipe. Step 6: Add the honey

It was considered unholy.

The reprimand we would receive for this would be earth shattering. We were going to suffer for this.

I don’t even know what we were thinking. You don’t think when you’re a kid.

We were all just way too hyper. The view of the city, the soft dusk signalling the first shadows of the night. And we all figured, well…why not?

No one would know anyway.

But now, sitting in front of my parents, heart thumping through my rib cage,

I regret my decision.

I feel deep, organ crushing fear.

I already know what they are about to say.

“How could you do this?”

Here it comes.

“How could you pee on our city’s landmark?”

I mean, it wasn’t much of a landmark. But there’s a lot of history surrounding that telephone box, so naturally they weren’t exactly over the moon to hear that kids had urinated on it for a laugh.

My brother can’t resist the smile climbing to the front of his face, which is swiftly removed by the burning tone of my mother.

“You think this is some sort of perverted joke? You’re the one who joined him! At least one of you were honest enough to…”

I don’t hear the rest.

He snitched on us?

I look upon my brother with horror and disgust.

We swore to not tell Dad or Mum.

We swore upon our brotherhood.

And this mouthy swine dare stab my trust in the back?

Never again, I said in my head, my thoughts a raging whirlwind of anger.

Never again I will pee anywhere with my brother.

I’ll never share another happy moment with this stinky, lowly traitor.

I toil for hours.

My legs bruise from the physical strain. My breath continues to fall out of my lungs in laboured stress, desperately trying to oxygenate my body.

My hands grip tighter, feeling the clasp of my own skin wrap itself together with increased vigor, drawing from whatever resolve I have left.

I beg of you, my body. I beseech you, my legs. Do not fail me, my hands.

Every week, I take on the same monumental challenge.

And every week, I have failed.

I fail to take all of the shopping back to the house in one go.

But as I close the car boot, lock the doors and place the keys in my pocket,

this time. This time for sure.

I will take all the bags back, and prove myself a man amongst boys.

A wolf amongst sheep.

ONWARDS.

Ethel woke up and felt dangerous. Well, as dangerous as an 88 year old woman can feel. The legs didn’t quite work the way she wanted them to anymore, nor did the back. But she was insanely good at scrabble. And she was really good at trash talking Terry because Terry was truly awful at the game. She slowly got up out of bed and got ready for the day. Today was going to be an exciting day, she could just feel it in her old brittle bones. She finally made it out of the house an hour later to (slowly) walk over to the town’s only cafe that happened to be at the end of the block where she lived. It was just like any other Thursday morning, meeting with the old geezer crew of the small town in which they lived. But she could feel that this wouldn’t be like just any other Thursday, she just wasn’t sure why yet. She walked in and waved to Darren, the barista. “The usual, Ethel?” he said as he started prepping the drink he knew that Ethel would want. “You’re a saint,” Ethel said as she sat down at the table that Mark and Terry already occupied. Before she could speak a word to the table, Terry said, “Ethel, it is wonderful to see you. Did you wake up this morning feeling extra mischievous?” Ethel’s jaw dropped. “Don’t tell me that you are feeling the same?” Mark looked at Ethel with a twinkle in his eye. “The very same, Ethel. Once Bruce gets here, we need to have a very serious discussion about what we should do today. But I would love nothing more than to have a fun day today.” The door bell jingled and Bruce rolled in. At the same time, Darren brought over Ethel’s drip coffee with a splash of half and half. She smiled and thanked him. Bruce arrived at the table with a dangerous look in his eyes. Ethel thought that it was just destiny that they all woke up feeling the same way. “So are we causing some mayhem today or what?” said Bruce. “Let’s hear everyone’s best prank ideas. I’ll go first. We need walkie-talkies. We hide one in the ceiling and then throughout the day we meow into it so anyone who is in here at the time thinks that there’s a cat hidden somewhere.” Ethel looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “I’m not sure if you’re aware of this Bruce, but none of us have any chance in reaching a ceiling, especially not you with those worthless legs of yours,” she looked purposefully at his wheelchair. “We’d have to call in an assist for that one. My idea: we swap out all of the stock photos in picture frames in the general store with pictures of Ronald Reagan.” “Great idea, Ethel. Great idea. How about we buy a bunch of plastic cockroaches and scatter them around the block?” said Mark. They all nod in appreciation of the idea. Terry all of a sudden looked mutinous and they all leaned in to hear what her idea was. “Hear me out, we put a cucumber in random people’s mailboxes.” They all burst out laughing. Ethel didn’t remember the last time that she felt so giddy and bursting with anticipation. She felt like a young kid again, playing pranks on her siblings. It didn’t matter if anyone else found their prank funny, she was perfectly content.

Dear Future People (sorry if you go by something else now),

I am hiding this time capsule so you can enjoy the coolest things of our time. I know by the time you open this you’ll have your own cool stuff that is better than ours, but at least give it a chance.

The first item is a Game Boy SP. it’s the blue one that flips open with a screen and buttons. I left Donkey Kong in it so you have a game to try. Avoid the bees, trust me. I couldn’t find a charger, but I’m sure the battery will last at least a 100,000 years. It’s never died on me yet.

The second item is Moon Shoes. This is great because I haven’t gotten to go to the moon yet. Have you? If you have, try the shoes on and let me know how they compare to the real experience. I live behind the middle school at the house with the bright yellow door.

I’ve also placed a fewer smaller items in here for you too. There’s a yo-yo, slinky, magnet blocks, and a furry diary with matching glitter pen. I’ll let you figure these out on your own.

I hope you get more enjoyment out of this stuff than I did. I’m sure you’ll be safe, but maybe be discreet. This stuff is all borrowed treasures. Anyways enjoy your time with things from the past, and if a big ugly guy named Eddie asks anything, run.

Good Luck, Tommy

Lo See thee the childe See thou the arc of his arms? The flailing of his feet? See thou how the cans are strewn before him? How he strikes them down in every instant?

Hark, friend, and witness! His screams, they echo throughout the land As his cries bring tears, To red-shirted serfs

See, now the devastation as it is wrought. He lays waste to aisles, Besieges shopping carts, And embattles the ignorant passerby

Know now, that Target shall never be the same That his war-dance will echo in this place And all the tales of its people

And lo! Hwæt! He is drawn away! His mother Suffering in his path Must pay her tithe, And leave this place forevermore!

She drags him, Teeth gritted, To the self-checkout gates And pulls him, With somber manner, Through the doors Surely, he is banished! Never to return!

But this place shall not be free of him yet, weary traveler! For though isles of pickles and chips may be free, And employees, Clad in so many hues of red, May think themselves free of his assault, The rampage has merely begun!

Now watch Kin As he wages war by elevator gates. As shoppers run To dodge his wake. And his mother battles To drag him forward.

Her steed is in the parking garage, She cries, Strung ‘tween childe and cart, And they must first ride this iron stair to reach it!

“No,” Replies the childe, Stamping on the ground, “Bonbons Bombons I want bonbons!”

But see He cannot fight forever! And she is old! And wise! And clever!

She drags through those steely gates And on, to lower floors, they go To find their metal steed of old And make for Eastside Their fine home

“Then it begins.”

The letter ended there. Everyone else around the table looked shocked, but I remembered Grandma hinting at it a few months before her death. “When I die,” she’d said, “I want a giant Kahoot game with 200 questions about my life, and whoever wins gets my will.” I’d laughed, thinking it was a joke. But here we were, close and extended family alike, preparing to play the biggest Kahoot game of our lives.

I thought how weird it would be if my distant cousin from Florida won (not to mention Grandma was practically rolling in it before she popped her clogs). I sort of wished Grandma hadn’t had such a wicked sense of humour. Then again, my 18th birthday was tomorrow, so there wouldn’t be an excuse for my parents to stick it in the trust fund if I won.

We were ushered into a hall and I took a seat towards the back, waiting in anticipation. The guy who’d read the will took out a USB and plugged it in to a laptop. On the projector, a Chrome window with Kahoot already open fizzled to life. The code was already there, too — and naturally it was 696969. I typed it in and put my name as the Grim Reaper (because that’s what she would’ve expected of me).

Once all sixty of us were in the game, the guy (who’s name was Jonah) pressed Start and the games began. “Round One - Faves,” Jonah read out, and I could tell he was regretting this already. But a last wish was a last command, so we had no choice.

I felt confident about this round. I knew Grandma better than everyone, including her own kids. Our long chats had given me the answers to all these questions (“What was my fave colour when I died?” or “What was my fave Taco Bell branch?”) so I cruised through the round easier than everyone else. One round done and I was leading. I spotted some of my uncles and aunts giving me dirty looks, but I ignored them and thought of the ways I could rub it in their faces if I won.

Round Two was general knowledge. Grandma always loved trivia, and we would spend hours playing Trivial Pursuit together. I noticed rather quickly that the ‘general knowledge’ was a compilation of her favourite Trivial Pursuit questions. Two rounds done and I was still ahead. My nerves buzzed out and I began to feel calmly optimistic.

After two more rounds (“Would I Rather” and “Guess the Flag”) I came to the realisation that this whole thing was rigged. All of these questions I’d discussed at some point or another. Grandma was relying on my decent memory for me to win. I sent her a silent thanks and continued the game, biting the inside of my cheek to hide a smirk.

Halfway through and I was pretty sure everyone in the room hated my guts. My family has one thing in common and that’s a fierce competitiveness. Plus the adults didn’t like the idea of handing a colossal sum of money to a teenager (albeit an extremely responsible one, thank you very much).

The rounds got harder as the game progressed. My brain was straining to remember all these facts, but I pulled through. I missed some questions here and there, but my position in first stayed rooted firmly in place. The whole hall was more silent than a real exam, and I could see beads of sweat glistening on some of their foreheads.

At one point my sister Stephanie turned around and hissed, “What’s the answer? I’ll get you Starbucks for a week!” I felt like this was too good of an opportunity to pass up, and there was the extra perk of annoying the hell out of certain people. I yelled, “IT’S THE BLUE ONE!” and watched as everyone instinctively pressed blue. Turned out the answer (my real answer) was yellow.

The last question came, in a round of its own — The Decider. Jonah had abandoned his grumpiness and now seemed rather excited. My nerves returned in full force. “Who is my favourite relative?”. The options were Keith (my dad), Leilani (my cousin), Jarred (my uncle) and myself. I had a bit of a narcissist moment, I’ll admit, and pressed my own button without thinking. Then I realised the answer was probably Jarred.

The longest 20 seconds of my life.

The podium came up.

In first place…

“Grim…Reaper?”

Molly watched Sancho walk in. Hell, this mo’ fo was striding in past 10 PM without a care in the world. You could put some Bee Gees Stayin’ Alive to that stride, and it would be on point! This infuriated Molly to no end; she’s had to look after the young ones all day while Sancho skipped on his fatherly duties.

To do what? Pondered Molly. She needed to find out; she could not bear being lied to.

Molly noticed how happy he was coming home from who knows where wagging his behind. She thought he must have met someone, as he would only act that way when they first met. She could almost sniff out the odor, smell, and scent of another - but she wanted to catch him in the act.

Sancho finally greeted Molly as he pawed his way through the gate, making a ruckus but apologizing and telling her how long a day he had had at the office. Barking the usual excuse, according to Molly, “I had to stay late again, sweety. It was work, honey,” he’d say. “Just work.”

Molly couldn’t sleep and ended up lying in front of the fireplace. Sancho went to see his young ones before joining Molly with some snacks. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She wanted to catch him in the act, but this was too much; in the heat of the moment, Molly lost it and lashed out at Sancho. Reminding him of his fatherly duties. Reminding him that he is needed more at home than in the office before getting up and jumping on the couch.

Sancho paced behind Molly and followed her to the couch - with nothing in mind, just Sancho being happy-go-lucky Sancho. He had already forgotten about the lashing he had just gotten mere seconds ago.

Just then, as they glared at the fireplace, Samantha had walked down and had seen both Sancho and Molly lying in the couch. They looked lost as they stared at the fireplace.

Samantha: “Hi, guys! Did you miss me? Come here, Sancho, you too, Molly. Good boy, good girl! Oh, come here for some kisses and belly rubs, you two! I missed you guys!”

“What happened that night?” The policeman asked.

Ginger bit her lip, looking at her mother. “Well… my boyfriend, Jake, he uhm… he… he shot me.”

Her mother, Mrs. Kline, gaped at her daughter. “He shot you?!”

The policeman’s eyebrows were raised but he maintained his calm demeanor. “And where exactly did he shoot you, Miss Kline?”

Ginger raised a shaking finger and pointed it at her heart.

Her mother narrowed her eyes. “Jake… shot you. In the heart?”

Ginger let out a sob. “Yes! And I fell over and he kept pummeling me with these painful bullets… and I couldn’t take it anymore!” She buried her face in her hands.

“Well, Miss Kline. It seems we might need to bring Jake in.” The policeman beckoned with his hand to the policeman standing at the door who looked absolutely petrified. But he obeyed his superior and opened the door, letting two other policemen lead in a scraggly teenager in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.

“Mr. Cane… Miss Kline seems to think you shot her in the heart. Is this statement true?” The sitting policeman asked him, an amused glint in his eye.

Jake widened his eyes. “Shot her?” He let out a raspy laugh. “No, officer. I never have a gun on me, much less know how to use one. All I did was break up with her.”

Everyone looked at Ginger, who emerged from her turtle shell. “What,” she whispered, her wide glassy eyes blinking slowly, “that’s what it felt like.”

“And as you can see, quarterly projections should match our three month projections based on the current weight of the Canadian dollar…”, his voice droned on further, soon to be setting a record for the world’s longest sentence and therefore worthy of stopping this meeting and placing a call to the good people at Guinness.

Eventually it would become a sort of unintelligible and uninteresting ambient rumble like that of a clothes dryer just a few days past its extended warranty. Just beyond that point, all would be lost as this quarterly company review would be lost into the recesses of time along with all whom participated. After that it would hibernate for a short while only to return to extract additional minutes from our lives to offer to an endless void of never ending spreadsheets and awkward ice breaker questions.

My mind, or more importantly my focus, was once again captained by the ever present Admiral Henry Driftwood. He was beginning the process of casting us away from the safe harbor of this current moment. With the old bearded Admiral at the helm and the winds at its sails, the old ship would soon find itself on the shores of a much more interesting topic.

Hank was an experienced sailor but that didn’t mean he was a particularly good sailor. The gentle waves often made him sleepy and would amplify the lure of his cozy captain’s hammock.

He also didn’t like fish as while delicious, they were terrible conversationalists. Over the past thirty-five years at sea he had fried up quite a few that were either terrible listeners or obnoxious narcissists. All he wanted was a scaly friend that could put up a decent challenge at a game of chess and that could also breathe oxygen without dying.

“Aye! Guess what!” He yelled upwards to the cloudy sky above. It’s how he usually communicates directly to me. It was better than the rare occasions where he would show up as an imaginary friend and intrude on something nice like a date or a dentist visit.

“I think we should go east and visit that island that had all those movies you liked when you were a wee lad. Why, we could even look up some online documentaries about the last days of the movie rental industry while we’re there!”

When he does this whole talking to the sky thing, that’s how he’s able to bring me down onto the ship. He had a lot of ideas of things to do other than what I needed to be doing and most of the time, they were awesome enough to explore.

This appeared to be one of them.

“There ya are!” He was quite happy to see me and promptly pointed over to a rope. He wanted me to begin rigging the lines to catch a breeze.

We sailed for about an hour, away from the ominous grey clouds of the meeting and towards an island lined with bright blue-leaved trees with lemony yellow trunks. Time moved differently on the sea, where minutes could be as long as hours or as short as seconds. It was unpredictable and difficult to track.

“Now quick, help me wind up this extra rope on the deck,” he barked as he prepared us to sail into the island’s tiny port.

I was a bit transfixed with the scenery, this particular island was full of fun stuff to do.

“Hey now,” he got louder to break my concentration. “Help me wind.”

Help “me wind”. That sounded a lot like “rewind”, as in that red lettering that would be stamped on VHS tape boxes at the video store. “Be kind, please rewind” it would say. They usually charged a fee if one decided not to be as kind as they liked.

I wonder if anyone at the meeting has ever forgotten to rewind a movie back then? If they did, there’s probably an interesting story that would follow it. I’d have to ask, like right now. It couldn’t wait.

I leapt off the stern of the ship and landed on the back of an aquadoodle, a large orange dolphin with of a dog-like demeanor. It let out a salty squawk as it went into turbo mode and took me back into the grey clouds of the present moment. Once we got within range of the gateway back to the meeting, the aquadoodle launched into the air and flung me away.

Things quickly came back into focus as I regained my bearings in the meeting room. Gary was still talking about annual budgets and the air still smelled like someone in the adjacent room was microwaving a cinnamon roll.

“Hey, does anyone remember movie rental stores? Remember having to rewind the tapes or they’d charge extra? Did that ever happen to any of you? I mean, isn’t it crazy that we had to do that?” A series of rapid questions, all quite important to me for some reason, made their great escape from my talking hole and into the meeting.

Everyone stopped and turned to me, not as entertained as I had anticipated.

If I tell you a secret, promise not to tell Only whispered in your ear, hear me well Some others have listened, but did they hear Words were spoken, full of mischief and fear This invisible word, that we choose to hide Soon will mistakenly be retold, did not abide So the next time its asked ‘can you keep a word’ Just turn your head, smile and say ‘I never heard’