Highway to Hell
"Please fasten your seatbelts like so and read the safety information brochure in your seat back pocket."
I scowled as the airplane staff went over the safety information.
I pulled the brochure out of the seat back pocket and something else tumbled out of it too.
It was a disgusting old copy of On a Pale Horse.
I threw it behind me and ignored the screams of a young woman behind me as the book lodged itself in her eyeball.
Then I took a huge bite out of the safety packet and decided that I was done with safety.
I kicked open the window and hurled myself out of it, I grew wings and floated through Hell which wasn't really surprising.
Sure it would have been fun to shove people off of the stairs to Heaven and watched their faces as they fell to the bottom and had to climb back up again, but that required too much effort on my part.
I took the highway, which was actually a plane take-off runway.
Married in Vegas
It was when Romeo killed my cousin that I realized I had perhaps married the wrong person.
I won't lie, I got with Romeo because he was a hunk.
Also I was ever so slightly drunk.
Hey that rhymed!
Anyway, he was so cute when we first met at the party. Sure we had both just lost huge bets and were wasted as hell but still.
He said he loved me and then we got married, because what else would anyone do.
Then I woke up in a random hotel which I learned later was actually the Venetian. I don't even know how I got there.
Suddenly, my stupid, square cousin barged in and dragged me away. Romeo was still passed out on the couch but he woke up, pulled a pistol out of his pocket and shot the hell out of my sweet old cuz.
That really sucks, I thought that I had found a stalemate-- I mean soulmate.
Then Romeo told me about his lost bet and how he wanted me to help him pay off loan sharks while I stared at the gruesome image of Ty, my cousin, laying on the floor with blood spilling out of ten wounds.
I was so angry that I pulled out my AK 47 and shot Romeo dead too.
I sent out an ad.
LAWYER RESQUESTED!
HELP NEEDED!
MUST WIN COURT CASE AGAINST THE MONTAGUE FAMILY!
LOTS OF MONEY OFFERED!
My Ordinary Life
"Do you feel me? Take a look inside my brain
The people always different, but it always feels the same
That's the real me, pop the champagne
The haters wanna hurt me, and I'm laughin' at the pain"
I listen to the words, I don't hear the meaning. I listen to the song, I hear only the melody. I realize that I was living my life wrong.
"No matter what I make, they never see mistakes
Makin' so much bread, I don't care that they're just being fake
They tell me they're below me, I act like I'm above
The people blend together, but I would be lost without their love"
Hear me! The words screamed, the lyrics reaching out with their tendrils of rhythm.
"Can you heal me? Have I gained too much?
When you become untouchable, you're unable to touch
Is there a real me? Pop the champagne
It hurts me just to think, and I don't do pain"
-My Ordinary Life
The weirdo lady.
"I would really rather if you didn't--"
The weirdo lady interrupts me and starts talking again.
I stopped paying attention to what she was saying an hour ago.
I wonder if it's my fault for being too much of a pussy to force her to leave or if she's just an unusually stubborn cosplayer.
I sit on the end of the gurney bed, it's part of my costume as a lobotomy survivor zombie type thing.
"Ma'am," I begin again, "This is a sci-fi convention. Not a medieval festival."
The woman gives me a harsh glare and continues to blither.
I desperately hope that someone will come into my room so that I can finally get rid of this creep.
THE RISING OF THE UN-UN-UN-DEAD.
Sometimes, Robbie perched on trees just so that he could poop on people's heads.
It wasn't his fault. He felt lacking whenever he didn't.
Robbie felt violated when instead of a person, he pooped on a zombie.
Zombies didn't care. It just went on biting people and being moronic.
Robbie always wondered how the living folks who were spry, fast, and intelligent could be conquered so fast by these shambling heaps of rotten imbeciles.
Robbie flapped his wings, taking off and looked over the apocalyptic landscape but he couldn't spot a single human anywhere in the vicinity.
Robbie squawked, annoyed.
This is not even funny, DO NOT READ! This is not just clickbait. I promise! I promise! I promise! (INSERT WINKING EMOJI HERE) (INSERT DEVIL
Ah comedy,
The everlasting question that adults think about daily but nobody actually say for fear of sounding too much like the Joker, "Why. So. SERIOUS??!!"
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA.
I swear, that man is comedy gold.
What was I saying?
Whatever.
Basically what I'm saying is that there is absolutely no way a common peasant like me will win this challenge with literally, like 266 entries in it, so I'm just going to write some random bull and hope there's someone who likes wasting their time enough to actually read this. Honestly, I'm not completely sure what this prompt is supposed to be or what I'm actually supposed to write because sometimes I say random stuff that pops into my head and people think it's funny. That's okay with me, I guess.
Why so serious?
Why so serious?
Why you sounding so much like the Joker?
Hey, do I have to fill all 333 words?
I know I don't but it would just be so funny if I did.
Oh yes it would.
And if you pick me, I will personally come and carve a smile into the sides of your mouth so that you can look like the Joker.
That would be so fun, wouldn't it?
I know you probably don't find that funny, why would you?
Sometimes I wonder if I don't understand humor or if everyone around me doesn't.
I'm gonna go with the latter just because I am an arrogant little narcissist.
Anyway, I think imma go now because I can't be bothered to write the rest of the words and I'm too lazy to go back and delete my previous statement about how I would write all 333 words.
THANK YOU FOR LISTENING!!!!!
why so serious?
Shifting Leaves
"C'mon, little guy," I whisper to the pigeon as it waddles closer to my outstretched arm. The other pigeons quickly tore through the little trail of bread crumbs which I made, this one's the only one brave enough to get close enough to eat the large chunk of bread that I pulled from my sandwich. He bobs his head a bit, deciding whether to take it or not.
"I won't hurt you." I say softly, looking up at the beautiful reds and oranges of fall as the golden sun slants through the painted trees.
The pigeon's iridescent plumage catches the light, gleaming and reminding me of the glorious summer that melted into this buttery autumn. I take a deep breath in, savoring the delicious smell of earthy petrichor that accompanies the leaf-strewn ground.
People stroll by, walking dogs or with small children running around their legs. The park has some sort of innate calm to it, like a drug that makes everything feel warm, nice, pleasant, perfect, and insanely happy. Here I can even drone out the noises of gunfire, traffic, and screams that permeate regular New Yorker life. I feel so peaceful, from the deepest corners of my soul.
Tentatively, the pigeon reaches it's beak out and nimbly plucks the crumb from my fingers, it flies away and eats it, leaving behind only a single purple feather and a few shifting leaves.
Vignette Life
Hey dude. I felt kind of bad that this prompt had zero entries so I guess I'm going to enter.
I'm also procrastinating right now so, yeah.
What is a Vignette anyway? Sorry, I'm really dumb. Let me search it up. Hold on.
Got it!
A'ight, I don't have a story so I think I'm just going to have to wing this one.
Ready?
No?
I don't care I'm going for it anyway.
"The long corridor seemed to stretch forever, the squeaky linoleum floors zapped bright yellow images into my retinas. I stood with my back pressed to my locker, feeling the grates dig sharply into my back as seventy-three high-school students barreled my way, jostling and jockeying for a position in the turbulent crowd. As for me. I just tried not to get trampled and killed. I watch as a paper airplane made of a scribbled-on worksheet soars over the crowd and friends shove each other. What idiots."
Harry Potter
Harry Potter plopped down on the chair, exhausted. He adjusted his glasses but a thump coming from the stairs sent him tumbling off his chair and onto the ground.
Hearing many things crack in many places, Harry got up and rubbed his head. He stood on his tiptoes and peered out of the grate on the door to the cupboard under the stairs and growled softly as he saw his disgusting cousin, Dudley, lick ice cream of of his fingers and then rub them all over his popping, stained shirt and waltz out the door.
A few seconds later, Aunt Petunia followed him. Uncle Vernon lingered, he turned around and unlocked the cupboard. Harry quickly ducked under his gargantuan arm and stretched, breathing in the fresh air and hoping for a moment that Uncle Vernon would feed him before tamping down his hope.
Uncle Vernon turned, making the whole house shudder under his weight.
"Stupid boy!" He shouted thickly at Harry, "If you leave the cupboard before we come back I won't feed you for two days."
Harry had already been locked in the cupboard for the whole day and he was in no mood to put up with Uncle Vernon's stupid shows of dominance.
Harry arched an eyebrow caustically, "Maybe you should try that on Dudley. He sure needs it."
Vernon's face turned purple and his eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if Harry was serious. Eventually he just shoved Harry back into the cupboard, locked the door, and left.
Harry didn't care, he had a way out, he waited until the sounds of the car had long faded and got down to business. Now that Vernon was finally gone, Harry could do whatever he wanted. He simply pushed the door open and calmly removed the wax from in between the doorjamb and stepped out.
Harry was licking a chocolate ice-cream cone and watching TV when he heard the sounds of someone walking through the door. Harry rolled his eyes and flicked off the TV. He honestly didn't care if Vernon found him at this point, Harry had stolen a knife from the kitchen a few months ago and had been spending his free time under the cupboard practicing defending himself.
As it turns out, Harry didn't need the knife. Five burglars had entered the house and were frankly, quite shocked when they found an eleven year-old boy leaning against a doorframe, calmly licking an ice-cream cone, and casually flipping a cleaver in one hand. Watching them.
The main burglar leveled his gun at Harry's face, "Scram kid. And don't call the police."
Harry rolled his eyes, "I'm not here to rat you out." He said excruciatingly slowly, "I want to join you."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm joining your cause and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise."
"Don't you have a family to live with or something."
"Just abusers."
That night as Harry sat by the fire in an abandoned apartment with all of his new pals he excused himself to go do one thing.
Mr, Mrs, and young Dudley Dursley were all found dead by pillow suffocation the next morning. The crime was left unsolved.
*Harry Potter and the Crime Syndicate.*