I would like to warmly welcome you back to another Party! Help yourself to some Drabbles and don’t be self-conscious if you read some of the backlog. Binging Drabbles is good for one’s health! SCIENCE!
Now to the drabble!
The Foul Things
Carlos hated pickles. Dill, sweet- he couldn’t stand the foul things.
So, to be trapped in a convenience store with pickle juice dripping off the shelf onto his head, while being shot at, was the ultimate insult.
“Come on, Carlos! We don’t have all day! Give us the food and we’ll just go our separate ways!”
Carlos hated that voice as much as he hated pickles.
“Bite me, Lyle!” Carlos yelled. He refused to tell the man that there was no food left, just disgusting pickles. The principle of post-apocalyptic scavenging had to be upheld. “Go raid somewhere else!”
Disclaimer: You’re a disclaimer!
Aaaaaaannnnnnnd IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-eeeeee-IIIIIIIIIII-eeeee-IIIIIIIIIIII will always love Draaaaaaaaabbbbbbblllle! Will always love Draaaaaaabbbbbblllle! Will always love-. No, wait, put the shtogun down! NO! PLEA-!
Thank you, thank you. Yes, that was my musical/dramatic interpretation of Quentin Tarantino’s The Drabbleguard.
Happy Friday, Mother F$*&ers!
Soooo, how’s it going? Ready for some free micro-fiction? Well, then let’s get to it!
The microphone was kicked from the stage as the pop star moved forward, her face passive, serene.
The crowd screamed, their eyes wide with horror and disbelief as their idol turned on them, came at them.
Another shot rang out and another. The blood spray covered the first two rows of spectators as security guards collapsed, and the screams intensified, doubled, tripled. More shots. Again and again. More blood.
The pop star jumped off the stage and rolled, taking aim at the crowd once again. She emptied the magazine, so glad to finally give in to the madness. So glad.
Disclaimer: Gargle. Always gargle.
YO! It’s Friday Night! There be a Drabble in this Party!
Not only is there a drabble, but there’s a link to the newly released Mega 3: When Giants Collide! Let’s see that beautiful bean footage!
Now, on to the drabble!
“The interesting thing is how the creature reacts to various stimuli,” Dr. Roberts said. “Observe.”
The doctor threw a lit bag of feces into the cage.
“Dude!” the creature shouted. “What the hell, man? Is that poo? Why the hell are you throwing flaming poo at me?”
“It has become irritated,” Dr. Roberts observed. “It uses it’s primitive language to express that irritation.”
“Irritation? Dude, I’m pissed! That’s gross!” the creature exclaimed.
“Now, let’s see how it reacts when we expose it to raw uranium,” Dr. Roberts said.
“What? DUDE! NO URANIUM!”
“Pitiful,” one of the observers said. “So pitiful.”
Disclaimer: NO URANIUM!
Another Friday is upon us! LET THERE BE DRABBLE!
Sooooooo, how’s your week been? Mmm-hmm… Right… Really? With Kevin? You don’t say… Oh, now that’s just lazy.
Anyhoo, my week has been good. I’ve been writing the hell out of Reign of Four: III. That medieval space fiction is some fun stuff! Y’all are gonna dig it when it comes out next year!
Know what else you’re gonna dig? A drabble!
Let’s get to it!
Not In A Row
“I just sign?” Victor asked.
“On the dotted line, baby,” Mr. Hob grinned. “Then you get to live a million days.”
“No tricks, right?” Victor frowned.
Mr. Hob snapped his fingers. “Nope.”
Victor hesitated then pierced his fingertip and signed.
“There,” Victor smiled. “Done!”
He stood there for a second then grabbed his chest and collapsed.
“What…?” Victor gasped.
“Right,” Mr. Hob smiled. “I never said the days would be in a row. Hopefully you wake up before they bury you.”
Mr. Hob walked off, a skip in his step, a whistle on his lips, another soul in his pocket.
Disclaimer: Don’t go down to the crossroads and try to flag a ride.
Welcome back! Come in, come in. Make yourselves comfortable while I inflict upon you another Halloween themed Drabble!
But, before I do, I want to weigh in on the Permuted Press hijinks going on: don’t believe the rumors and BS being spread. Just don’t. I’ll have a full blog post addressing this issue on Monday, so stay tuned.
Now, on to tonight’s drabble!
Then Please Stay
“The pumpkins screamed, man!” Horace shouted as he backed away from the front porch. “The damn things screamed when I tried to pick them up!”
“Dude, that’s the sound effects from across the street,” Bart frowned.
“You kids! Get away from my pumpkins!” the old woman screeched as she pushed open the screen door. “Go!”
“Help us!” three of the carved pumpkins screamed. “Help us!”
“Unless you want to join them,” the old woman sneered at the teenagers. “Then please stay.”
“Dude!” Bart said as he grabbed Horace’s arm. “We’re gone!”
“Told ya!” Horace cried as they turned and ran.
Disclaimer: Quit while you’re ahead, kids. Sometimes being too old to trick or treat is a good thing.