This weekend the tireless editors at the Trifecta Writing Challenge are prompting us to write 33 words to make them chuckle, chortle, smile or something of that nature.
“This weekend we’re asking you to write 33 words that will make us laugh or smile. Even a chuckle will do. We look forward to the communal spirit lifting. Good luck!”
Through The Bleary Eyes of Wretched Weariness
Oh to make the mind to squeeze
Something funny to appease
Insatiable Trifectan Masters
Without incurring word disasters!
Never do they rest or sleep . . .
Haven’t they ever heard of sheep?
The entries! They just keep coming and coming and coming . . .
This weekend we are giving you three variations on a prompt. We need you to give us 33 words back, and 2 of those words must be either “cheap flights,” “sandwiched in” or “spectacularly clean.” This weekend, your piece must also be non-fiction (poetry or prose). And yes, we reserve the right to call your mothers and former lovers to ask for verification on your tales.
Disaster at the Farmer’s Market
Twas my kin
Quite sandwiched in
‘twixt turnips and potatoes
Still alive, he had survived
The horrible tornadoes
I said to Jim (I called him Jim)
“ Hope you remembered to get tomatoes.”
“Uh . . . “
This is a true story with the exception of the tornado (it was actually a light breeze from the air-conditioning vent), and we were at Safeway instead of the Farmer’s Market. But my son, Jim, did remember to get tomatoes . . . except they were potatoes.
Hello Dear Readers! It’s time once again for the Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week our prompt for the story is the third definition of crush:: to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>
El Guapo Guapola Takes the Plunge!
Full-Time Adventurer and Part-Time Blogger, El Guapo Guapola and his hired Sherpa, Jimmy, trudged through the snow at the base of Mount Everest, synchronizing their steps to the rhythm ofZZTop – Double Back as they began their historic ascent up the mountain.
For you see, El Guapo Guapola was about to attempt to become the very first human to bungee jump from the top of Mount Everest, and, if he was successful, he would not only have the world at his feet, he might possibly have the world as far up as his mid-thy.
“Jimmy, my man,” said El Guapo. “Hand me another clove cigarette so that I may dangle it languidly from my lips.”*
Jimmy reached into his backpack and fished out a clove cigarette. “Would you like your usual shot of Jameson to go with that?”
“But of course!” said our hero.
The only sound that could be heard was the crush of ice as Jimmy set up a full rocks glass of Jameson. EG downed the shot. Smooth* and thought about a Sunday afternoon long ago where the very same drink had been the catalyst for his historic naked dance on the bar of a pub he couldn’t remember the name of.
As they climbed higher, EG was starting to get chilled from the Arctic (or possibly Antarctic) winds and began to question his decision to wear his Lucky Rock Climbing Outfit. He was thankful he had remembered to include his ski clothes in Jimmy’s backpack.
When at last they reached the summit, Jimmy fastened the bungee cord to El Guapo Guapola’s ankle. But El Guapo just couldn’t take the cold any longer. He would have to change into his ski clothes before taking the plunge.
Quickly he tore off his rock climbing clothes. But just then his toes. Start. To Slip*.
. . . and the rest is history . . .
The Magnificent Hair of the man who wanted a pony! Happy Birthday to you!!!
Roweena Patina was late for tea. Her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff, invited her three days ago and yet, somehow, Roweena didn’t know how, she completely forgot!
Now Roweena found herself racing through the streets of Van Schmoodenfloffen, at such a furious pace that one of her wooden shoes flung itself off just as she was passing the Van Windenflooffen Bakery.
And even though Roweena felt her shoe fly off — she was in such a tizzy, she didn’t even bother stopping to retrieve it — despite the aroma of Van Boozlephaffen Pie tempting her . . . tempting her . . . tempting her!
For you see, Roweena, had managed to pile on fifty-three pounds during the annual Glockenflockenfluff Fish Festival to the mighty chagrin of her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff.
In fact, Tulip Aarff found Roweena Patina lacking discipline in every respect — both as a human being, in general, and as a daughter-in-law in particular. Now, Tulip Aarff could add “fat” to her myriad list of Roweena Patina complaints.
For Tulip Aarff made it her hobby to find fault in the tiniest imperfections of her daughter-in-law’s personage. And today, Tulip Aarff was about to hit the jackpot when it came to her favorite amusement.
When at last Roweena arrived at the double Dutch door of her mother-in-law’s cottage, she said a prayer for protection, then knocked.
“Enter this instant!” commanded Tulip Aarff. “For the cold herring is getting warm and the warm tea is getting cold!”
When Roweena stepped inside with her shoeless foot, her disheveled apron and her bonnet hopelessly askew, Tulip Aarff gasped the Great Mother-in-Law Gasp of the Ages.
“You’re late as usual!” Tulip Aarff barked.
With a hollow smile and a sugary, sweet voice, Roweena said, “I’m only late, my dearest mother-in-law, because I was baking you this “special” Hagleslagen Cuppencaken!
When Roweena finished her tea, she bid Tulip Aarff a cheerful adieu. A cheerful adieu that Tulip Aarff failed to acknowledge, however, what with her being dead and all.
Tulip Aarff just before biting the Hagleslagen Cuppencaken dust!
This weekend’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to write a story between 33 and 333 words utilizing three pictures that they have provided as prompts.
Gone with the Jupiter Wind
Vendle Grub maneuvered his craft around the Space Needle fast enough to be undetected by human eyes; but not so fast that he didn’t get a useable snippet of molecules from which to recreate a replica of it back on Jupiter.
You see, Vendle Grub was an Earth Aficionado. There was nothing Vendle Grub liked better than collecting earth souvenirs for Jupiter’s Little Earth which is what Vendle called his backyard.
Of course, most of the landmarks Vendle collected would eventually blow away, living as he did in the eye of a 400-year hurricane of epic proportions, but Vendle persisted anyway, partly because he was determined, and partly because it was a good reason to get off the planet and away from the constant gurgling of his nagging wife, Davenportia — who couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name.
On their last trip to earth, Davenportia thought Vendle had taken entirely too many boring pictures.
One time, Vendle Grub brought back molecules from the Amazon jungle, and proceeded to recreate a replica of it in the backyard. He down played it by telling Davenportia it was nothing more than a really big ant farm.
Jungle schmugle . . . it’s an ant farm!
Davenportia was okay with having the Amazon Jungle in her back yard at first. In fact, she loved the Piranha (either mixed with yogurt or just straight out of the pond). But neither one of them could ever figure out how to twist the tops off the bottle-nosed dolphins, and the yard work was ridiculous — so they were both relieved when it finally blew away.
When Vendle returned home with the Space Needle, Davenportia was overjoyed! Finally what’s his name, brought home something useful! Davenportia poked some holes in some leather (a Jupiter token of love) using the her new Space Needle! When Vendle saw what Davenportia had made for him, he was deeply touched and took out his White Out (Jupiter’s version of the ballpoint pen) and scrawled lovingly:
hi! I’m________and i’m completely inlove with you.V
But before he could hand it back, it blew away.
* * *
And now for this weekend’s challenge which was very, very difficult because it required . . . gulp . . . . math. Well sort of. Here’s the challenge:
Andy Rooney created something called “The 50-50-90 rule: anytime you have a 50-50 chance of getting something right, there’s a 90% probability you’ll get it wrong.”
The Trifecta Challenge is to come up with our own probability equation. In 33 words, of course.
E=MC Squandered
If you spend $100,000 on a lavish wedding, and there’s a 50% chance of rain –whether it rains or not–there’s a 100% chance you’ll soon wish you had that $100,000 back.
“What’s the matter?” “Oh I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to figure out if this is $100,000 worth of fun.
Hello Dear Readers! Today we have a Halloweenie Trifecta Writing Challenge. Our challenge is to write a 33-word response to the story of Felicia Felix-Mentor.
In 1937, a naked woman was found limping through the streets of Haiti. Upon interrogation, she was unable to give any details as to her identity. The woman was eventually identified in hospital as Felicia Felix-Mentor. The only issue is that Felicia Felix-Mentor had been dead for nearly twenty years. Felicia was, therefore, a zombie.
My Dinner Party in Honor of Felicia Felix-Mentor
Felicia Felix-Mentor stared straight ahead fingering her Beef Stroganoff.
“More tea Felicia dear?” I asked.
“I’m dead.” Felicia repeated for the hundredth time.
I sighed and resigned myself to a very long evening.
Nobody could ever get a rise out of Felicia Felix-Mentor, that is until the day she rose from the dead!
This weekend’s 33 word Trifecta Writing Challenge is to come up a very short take on how sometimes it’s best to be careful what you wish for!
We are asked to write about three wishes that come as a high price to the wisher:
Herman’s Plan to Get More Girls
Herman woke up on a raft at sea with seaweed sticking to his head indicating something had gone horribly wrong with his wish for a deck, an ocean view and a new toupee.
“Well at least on a clear day I can see forever, I suppose.”
This weekend’s Trifecta Challenge is to write 33 words of our own to build upon the phrase “On the count of three” . . .
On the Count of Three . . .
Swan Lake drifted through the air unheard over the clamorous bewilderment of convulsive upheaval causing Madam Pimpipski to rethink her dreams of hippopotami water ballet.
“I swear, Maurie, if she tells me to point my toes one more time it’s gonna get ugly!”
The original challenge was to write 33 words in which the word “lost” appears in the title but not in the story. Today’s challenge is to add 33 more words to the original story.
The Day Frieda Flerf Got Lost in a Bag of Skittles
While eating Skittles, Frieda Flerf suddenly found herself inside the bag, pinned between a red one and a yellow one. As she began gnawing her way to freedom, she heard mama calling, “Frieda!”
When Mama Flerf heard Frieda Flerf’s screams coming from the Skittles bag, she carefully lifted Frieda out, chastised her firmly, then made her clean Barbie’s entire Dream House for eating between meals again.
Oh how Frieda hated her Hoarder Barbie Dream House
The Rule of Three is a writing principle that asserts that, in writing, groups of three have the most impact. This week’s Trifecta challenge is to write 33 words using the Rule of Three somewhere among them. It is up to you to interpret the rule, just make sure to use exactly 33 words.
This week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge is to take a beautiful piece of writing and “move it along” with our own 33 words. Well, OK, but it isn’t going to stay as pretty I’m afraid!
The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction. She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.
Suddenly three burly men thundered in.”We’ve come for the last strains of sunlight — F. Scott Fitzgerald is having a literary emergency!” And they began prying sunlight’s fingers from all available points of refraction.
“Oh good! Here come the guys with the sunlight! We can go swimming now!”
