Oh my God, I found it. (Although I have the original prompt as:
"The UPS guy joins the party. His name is Jarvis. He’s up to something."
Millie couldn't believe her friends hired a stripper for her bachelorette party. She was a 57-year old widow, after all, and a librarian to boot. Totally not her style. But the women gathered in her backyard garden looked at this admittedly well-built UPS deliveryman with the same bewildered look on their faces that she had. "I'm sorry" he said. "I rang the doorbell and knocked, but obviously you couldn't hear. I'm Jarvis, by the way."
Well, of course he was going to strip, what UPS delivery person ever felt the need to introduce himself by name? But he didn't start taking off his shirt, held no package, no clipboard. This was very, very strange.
Brenda, ever helpful (and hopeful) asked "What can we do for you, Jarvis?"
"I'm looking for Millicent Hopeweather."
The girls tittered at the strange name, knowing their host only as Millie, and her last name only as her late husband's, Goldsby. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on them that Jarvis was talking about their soon-to-be-married-again friend, at which point all gazes landed on her.
Millie made a quick, instinctual calculation of Jarvis' age, around 35, and suddenly knew exactly what he was about to say.
I feel as if I’ve just found my lost keys. These prompts lead to me to sign up for a subscription. Then life got exceedingly hard. This time I’m not squandering the opportunity to create. In fact, I have worked with the last typewriter repairman in Maryland.
Oooh this is fun! and distracting. I'm supposed to be renewing my passport, but instead I'm skimming these. I've stopped skimming at #23 to write my first-since-10th-grade paragraph of fiction: "The Mother of the bride is drunk. The bride is drunk, too, and her maid of honor is rethinking her habit of taking assignments literally, of executing them perfectly. It’s the self-serve tequila-tasting bar she lovingly and meticulously created that has led to this situation, and it's her care in making sure it was replenished and kept tidy that has kept her from getting drunk enough to join the two women now puking in the hydrangea. She wishes to be at least that drunk, drunk enough to maybe forget happened at the altar, the thing that has kept the bride from becoming a wife, the thing that started with the uncontrolled sobs of the best man, the man who also is (was?) the maid of honor's husband of five years."
This makes me so happy b/c I used to love these -- at the time I never really had time to do anything with them, but now to have them all in one place is great. Deleting my Twitter account only ever made me sad b/c I "lost" a lot of the writers I used to follow there.
I responded to a lot of them, and think they might be in a Twitter Cache somewhere, but damned if I can find it. The best was a response to: "A garden party. A frog. A cracked pitcher of lemonade. Agnes is drunk. The UPS guy joins the party. His name is Jarvis. He’s up to something." I wish I had to time reconstitute it.
Oh my God, I found it. (Although I have the original prompt as:
"The UPS guy joins the party. His name is Jarvis. He’s up to something."
Millie couldn't believe her friends hired a stripper for her bachelorette party. She was a 57-year old widow, after all, and a librarian to boot. Totally not her style. But the women gathered in her backyard garden looked at this admittedly well-built UPS deliveryman with the same bewildered look on their faces that she had. "I'm sorry" he said. "I rang the doorbell and knocked, but obviously you couldn't hear. I'm Jarvis, by the way."
Well, of course he was going to strip, what UPS delivery person ever felt the need to introduce himself by name? But he didn't start taking off his shirt, held no package, no clipboard. This was very, very strange.
Brenda, ever helpful (and hopeful) asked "What can we do for you, Jarvis?"
"I'm looking for Millicent Hopeweather."
The girls tittered at the strange name, knowing their host only as Millie, and her last name only as her late husband's, Goldsby. It took a few seconds for it to dawn on them that Jarvis was talking about their soon-to-be-married-again friend, at which point all gazes landed on her.
Millie made a quick, instinctual calculation of Jarvis' age, around 35, and suddenly knew exactly what he was about to say.
"I think you're my mother."
I feel as if I’ve just found my lost keys. These prompts lead to me to sign up for a subscription. Then life got exceedingly hard. This time I’m not squandering the opportunity to create. In fact, I have worked with the last typewriter repairman in Maryland.
Laughing! These are wonderful!
Oooh this is fun! and distracting. I'm supposed to be renewing my passport, but instead I'm skimming these. I've stopped skimming at #23 to write my first-since-10th-grade paragraph of fiction: "The Mother of the bride is drunk. The bride is drunk, too, and her maid of honor is rethinking her habit of taking assignments literally, of executing them perfectly. It’s the self-serve tequila-tasting bar she lovingly and meticulously created that has led to this situation, and it's her care in making sure it was replenished and kept tidy that has kept her from getting drunk enough to join the two women now puking in the hydrangea. She wishes to be at least that drunk, drunk enough to maybe forget happened at the altar, the thing that has kept the bride from becoming a wife, the thing that started with the uncontrolled sobs of the best man, the man who also is (was?) the maid of honor's husband of five years."
This makes me so happy b/c I used to love these -- at the time I never really had time to do anything with them, but now to have them all in one place is great. Deleting my Twitter account only ever made me sad b/c I "lost" a lot of the writers I used to follow there.
I responded to a lot of them, and think they might be in a Twitter Cache somewhere, but damned if I can find it. The best was a response to: "A garden party. A frog. A cracked pitcher of lemonade. Agnes is drunk. The UPS guy joins the party. His name is Jarvis. He’s up to something." I wish I had to time reconstitute it.
These are wild! Thank you.
These look FUN. I needed a shot in the arm! Thank you!