#MenageMonday Challenge – Week 38
Three prompts living under one challenge roof?
Welcome to #MenageMonday!
Week 38
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Rules Recap
- This is a Flash Fiction challenge. Your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 200 words.
- Incorporate each of the three prompts into your story.
- Post your story into the comments of this post.
- Include your word count (or be excluded from judging).
- Please include your Twitter handle or email.
- The contest opens at 7 A.M. and closes at 8 P.M. Eastern Time.
- Generally speaking, the winner will be revealed Tuesday evening, huzzah!
So what do you get for all your time and effort, you ask? Badges, of course. (What, you thought this was a funded operation?) #MenageMonday awards THREE (squeeee!) badges each week:
- There is the undisputed CHAMP. Rather self explanatory.
- There is the JUDGE’S PET, for best use of the Judge’s prompt.
- Last but not least, the JUDGE gets a badge, because Judges need love, too.
Our Judge for Week 38:
The most badass skateboarder and sweet talker any broad can meet–even at the age of ten…
Billy Purgatory
Billy prepared a special introduction that you should read… because it’s really damn funny hysterical informative:
I never judged a writing contest before and so I decided that I’d think about why that is. I think maybe the problem with being a writer also means that you have to read stuff. I don’t really dig reading. Reading to me is usually “words, words, more words, Garfield is gonna try and steal a damn lasagna again, reading, words, blah, blah…”
Words get repetitive, especially when you string too many of them together – like when there’s enough of them to make up one of those paragraph things. That’s too many words in a row. It’s like when you have wine bottle, wine bottle, wine bottle – when you line up too many wine bottles, you’re gonna get a hobo. When one hobo shows up, then you’re gonna have tons of hobos – ’cause hobos travel in packs. Hobos will Hansel & Gretel a trail of wine bottles like nobody’s business, and then you’re gonna have a hobo-collision.
How are you gonna arrange all those hobos so they all make sense? Which one are you gonna indent? Where does the comma go that should separate this hobo from that hobo.
That’s what words are to me, a bunch of hobos jelly and jammed and if you don’t watch out you’re gonna have a mess – like the first part of CHiPs (before the first commercial break where they try and sell you a bacon dehydrator and something called “life insurance”).
Some people like putting words in order though so they make sense, and that’s why you’re here.
I’m here because I like a good story. I might not read them, but I like listening to hobos tell them. That’s really all hobos are good for – besides cooking a mean hot dog on the end of a stick over a fire they started by rubbing two jugs of anti-freeze together.
So all you writer-people that do fancy stuff like tie sweaters around your waist while eating fancy Ritz cracker sandwiches and talk about what British people do in books, this is your chance to impress me. You won’t get extra-credit for writing about hobos, ’cause I already did that, but I haven’t said anything about hookers yet.
Find more Billy through his creator, Jesse James Freeman and The Time Zombie.
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Challenge Time!
Your mission, should you choose to accept it:
The Photo:
The Phrase: “not normal” (this can appear anywhere in the story)
The Judge’s Prompt: tell about the time you beat the Devil at his own game
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And we’re off. The clock is ticking. Good writing and good luck!
32 Responses to #MenageMonday Challenge – Week 38
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From the top of the bridge the wind screaming across the struts started to moan, jabbering like a ghost. Lucy tightened her hands on the railing. She would get this done. Five more steps, and she would be ready.
“You are not normal,” Jack had informed her just that morning.
“I don’t see what other choice I have,” she said. “I am the captain of my own ship.”
His face paled to the color of chalk. “A very idiotic captain, maybe. Just go to the police.”
“And tell them what?”
No, the police wouldn’t have a clue.
Below, cars whizzed through the murk fingering over the lanes. First a tiny white car, next a long pink limousine.
Pink.
It squealed to a stop beneath her, and a harried woman rolled out. Like the limo, she was dressed head to toe in bubble gum pink. Even her short head of curls gleamed mauve.
“Honey, come down from there right now!” the woman shouted.
“Go away, Mother!” Lucy screamed. She baby-stepped closer to the edge.
“We can talk about this!”
The choppy waves beckoned. She jumped, hoping the wind would carry her last words: “I will never be a Mary Kay saleslady!”
@nicolewolverton
200 words
The pink limo idled in the open parking lot, as good as screaming “That’s right. We’re not normal.” As attention getters went, it managed to work a magic of opposites. The car was so odd, people seemed to avoid looking at it.
I walked up and rapped on the window of the rear door. The tinted glass rolled down with a barely audible purr.
“Done already, hunter?” a smoky male voice asked.
“I told you I’m good.”
“Then Michael is dead?”
A manicured hand reached out and I placed a blood soaked feather in the palm. A slight tremor passed through the fine bones and along his arm as he inhaled the scent of freshly spilled angel blood.
“There’s no aroma quite like it,” he said softly. “I would have known if you lied.”
“And killed you,” remained unspoken but I heard it loud and clear.
“We will strip them all of their wings, you and I.”
“As long as it pays well,” I said.
He handed me a briefcase. “Beyond your wildest dreams.”
The car drove off and I watched through the eyes of my new vessel, the hunter sent to kill me.
“You don’t know my dreams, Lucifer.”
@caramichaels
200 ineligible words
Prom Night
“You are SO not normal…” Kat was shaking her head, staring at the bright pink limo I’d rented for our Prom Night. “What am I, a Barbie doll? God, Josh…”
Sighing, I opened the door for her, being very careful not to close it on her skirt. I almost succeeded too; I only caught the corner of her hem. I cringed at the slight ripping sound and hoped she hadn’t heard it. Apparently luck was with me this time.
“It was the only one they had left…” I said defensively, sitting beside her. She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and stared out the window. “Look, I’m sorry. I was trying to make this a really special night for us.”
“Yeah, and next you’ll tell about the time you beat the Devil at his own game. I’ve heard this all before.”
“Look, make fun all you want, but I really did…beat him, I mean. How else do you think I ended up with you?”
Kat cocked an eyebrow. “Well, that’s true enough I suppose. Of course, the fact that I’m being punished for being a bad little succubus could have something to do with it as well.”
199 words {with title}
@ Angelique_Rider
Have you ever really breathed in the fumes from a steel mill? Felt the bits of iron and sulfur and carbon settling deep into your lungs? I used to love doing that. Whenever I was down, I’d visit Pittsburgh or Gary or Birmingham and just walk around, letting my body fill with the smell of home. One great time, that Industrial Revolution.
I should have listened to my instincts after meeting with Henry Ford, though. The man made my skin crawl. But I needed more. And those LA sunsets, with light struggling to make it through the smog, made me weep more than once.
I knew the moment I’d seen it that I’d lost. I mean, turning the world into an unlivable pit of despair is something that has to be done with style, don’t you think? There are those who say I’m not normal, but that color is just wrong. It drove by and I could just feel the hatred for all life oozing from its tailpipe.
Beaten at my own game? No way – who do you think I am? Now, I am sorry, but I’m late for my Sierra Club meeting, and my Volt is fully charged.
199 words
I don’t even wanna know how that got in there twice, and all mixed up… Dang… Here’s what it should look like:
We drove through the neighborhood, looking for a legend. Wasn’t hard to find. The massive , pink limo ruled the whole damn street. You couldn’t miss it. “Dude,” Tommy belted out. “That’s so not normal.” Good to see him laughing. He didn’t laugh much. “Is it his?”
We parked and just stared at it. A friggin’ Pepto-Bismol pink limo. Painful.
“Yeah. It’s his. Won it at a poker game. Rich dude named Lucifer pulled up in a black limo outside the casino. Got out with four of the hottest chicks anyone had ever seen. Had big-ass dudes with him, for protection. Rich dude sat at the table this guy was the dealer at. Made a bet. One hand of Black Jack. If he got 21, the dealer would do whatever the rich guy said. If the dealer got 21, he got the limo.”
“Dealer stacked the deck. Rich guy got 20. Dealer got 21. Rich dude knew he’d been cheated. But, stuck to the deal. Next day, same limo’s in his driveway. But it’s Pepto-Bismol pink.”
Tommy cracked up. ‘“Teach him to fuck with the devil, won’t it!”
199 Words (not the 398 that was in the first attempt).
@LurchMunster
I hate touchpads on laptops…
This entry replaces the one I sent earlier. That one contains one embarrassing typo.
What happens when you fuck up a job for the devil?
You end up in the back of a pink stretch limo listening to show tunes and playing a game of chance with the big man himself. It’s a win or die scenario.
It’s not normal but that’s how it is.
You gotta beat the devil at his own game– a drinking contest.
Did I mention that Old Scratch is immune to the effects of alcohol?
“Gonna hate to lose you, JT,” he says.
“Likewise, boss.”
He laughs and opens up the wet bar.
“Pick our poison, JT.”
I take a good long look and that’s when I see it.
It was dusty but it’s there. I dig it out and hand it over.
His grin vanishes and his hands start shaking.
“Zima?!?”
He rips the cap off the bottle and sniffs. He looks at the Zima and back at me.
His shoulders droop. “Can’t do it.”
I snatch the bottle, drain it, and fight to keep it down.
“You win,” he growls. “Get the fuck out of my limo.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
Walk of fame, baby. I’m alive.
200 words
@JTsuruoka
JT toooo funny.. You’re dating yourself with the Zima though *wink* and now I am too ROFL
Heh…. they still make that shit, don’t they? Or did they get smart and bury the idea in the same pit they buried parachute pants?
No, I’m pretty sure they still make it, but I’m keeping an eye out to be sure. Loved this entry. Even the devil can’t stomach to the stuff. Ha!
As I sat in the lobby, I knew trouble was afoot as that limousine wheeled up. A Mary Kay convention. Seriously? And why that color? I mean, black? White? Sure. But hot pink? As if it wouldn’t draw enough attention already?
Out poured a handful of women. Each one strolled past me, their noses in the air as if I were less significant than a speck of dirt. These were the big shots—the ones that all the other saleswomen aspired to be. Hard-working? Possibly. Conceited? Definitely.
I was meeting my top client in the lobby—all pre-arranged by me, of course. Just my luck.
“Hey, Miss Granger. Did you switch sides?”
Estelle Hammels was worth a fortune. And she was obsessed with beautifying herself.
“No, I had no idea. It’s definitely not normal, but, you know, let’s just sit here and listen for a bit.”
We perched outside as the speakers blared on about meeting quotas and ruthless sales tactics. Afterwards Estelle remarked, “I’m glad you’re with Avon! Those people are awful!”
“Me too,” I replied, sighing in relief. I’d played a Devil’s game and won. The situation could have backfired horribly, but now I’d have a thousand-dollar sale.
200 words
@rastrohman
Kool-Aid bit her multicolored fingernails. She’d thought it’d be cute to tell bitches to “taste the rainbow” when she clawed them for sniffing around her Johns, but this one was different.
She’d give this guy up to any ol’ skank. Anything to get him the hell away from her.
Tapping neon-green platforms, she looked at Barry. “Any of the girls could do this, daddy. Why me?”
He looked at her. “He asked for you, sweetheart. I give the customer what they want. Especially for this much green.”
“He’s not normal, baby.”
“We welcome all freaks.” The limo stopped. The John was already waiting. “Out.”
She struggled out of the Pepto pink limo. The John held his hand out. Her stomach heaved harder than a tricked out Impala with no shocks.
He smiled. “Barry can’t give what he doesn’t own.”
Kool-Aid trembled. “He owns me.”
“You own you. Do you want to go? I’ll take you away.”
She looked at his shiny, black car. Thought hard. “No.”
“Then, stay. Consent and will—that’s the name of the game, lovely. You won.” He walked back to his car.
She felt the urge to thank God, a thing she hadn’t done in years.
@J_M_Blackman
200
I love all of these stories, but this one really resonated with me. Great job, Ms. Blackman!
Thank you, Mr. Mahon. I’m mighty honored.
In the Pink
“Sheena – where the hell did you get this pink monstrosity?” asked Laura as she stepped into the limo. “This is not normal.”
Sheena examined the champagne in her glass, looking relaxed in her Dolce & Gabbana white suit. “But this is Vegas, my dear. All bets are off.”
“Or on, depending on who your ex is.” Laura grabbed her own glass of bubbly.
Sheena sipped thoughtfully. “The little bastard knew what he was getting into when he married me. I warned him – he didn’t listen.”
She told him from the get go – “you cheat and I walk, with everything.” John tried to have his cake and eat it too. But he had gone beyond just a fling. A little investigating revealed another wife in a different state and a mistress in the next county. All of those business trips were simply a ruse.
So Sheena quietly moved to Las Vegas, complaining of boredom. He humored her; he had too. Six weeks later, she filed.
“Do you think he learned his lesson?” Laura applied gloss to her perfect pout.
“They all do – one way or another.” Sheena flashed a brilliant smile and raised her glass. “On to the next!”
(198 words)
@sampsonwriter
I’d been in trouble before, but nothing like this. There was no way I was getting out of this alive. Time was running out and I didn’t have a plan. I drove to the meeting spot. My foot did not want to press the pedal, the closer I came to my destination.
He was there already. He stood in the center of the parking lot staring at me. His smile illuminated in the halogen lights. It was not normal to see him. He should remain an invisible deity. I still did not know how I was going to get out of this. I owed him more than I could collect.
“Nice pink limo,” he taunted. “I trust you have it all with you.”
“If it hadn’t been for your trickery, I wouldn’t need to have anything with me.”
“How easily your kind blames. Where is my payment?”
I swallowed hard. “It’s in the car.”
He reached out to take the keys. I hold the ring tight in my finger.
“When you take these keys you are agreeing that we are even.”
“Yeah, of course, now give them to me.” He stopped, realizing what he agreed to a second too late.
@ChuckWesJ
200 Words
“So, I signed up for a free trial on this poker site.”
“Nobody wins on those things.”
“During the trial I won a lifetime membership.”
“Lifetime?”
“Actually, twenty-five years. But, I can work with that.”
“Have you won any cash?”
“Within two weeks, $215. Then the well dried up. Only won play money and tourney points for months. The cash games seemed stacked against me.”
“I told you it was rigged.”
“But, it’s free! I play for hours and I’m definitely getting better.”
“But, if you’re not winning cash, it’s a waste of time.”
“That’s the thing. Saturday I won a grand.”
“No shit!”
“Really, and Sunday I play for a $10K seat at the WSOP in Vegas. I figure, I’ll use the grand to rent one of those long pink stretch thingies and be chauffeured to the casino.”
”A pink limo?”
“Not like I’m gay or anything. I just think it’s not normal for an internet gambler, and I wanna keep the devil off his game. Besides, the hookers will love it.”
“Like you’re really gonna win ten mill and a World Series bracelet.”
“Well, if I do, whatever happens won’t be the only thing to stay in Vegas.”
@Computilizer
200 Words
“You’re kidding me right?” the funeral assistant asked after I handed him the keys to a hot pink stretched limousine.
“I know it’s not normal,” I laughed as I pointed to a hot pink hearse in the garage, “but we have a matching coach for the funeral procession.”
Dan “Lucifer” Greenwich had a reputation for cutting corners, being understaffed, overworking his employees, and being an outright asshole. He liked to play manipulative mind games with families so they would overspend and often pissed them off with his uncaring and cold demeanor. In a town this small, folks didn’t have much of a choice when it came to shopping for someone to bury their loved ones. Every time Lucifer managed to anger the families he suddenly disappeared out of town on one of his hunting or fishing trips, leaving me and the staff to fix his mess.
Lucifer returned from his last hunting trip in a body bag, apparently the result of a misfortunate accident. As the casket lowered into the ground I whispered, “I guess I beat the devil at his own game.” I smiled and added, “May hell welcome you home with open flames, you son of bitch.”
199 words
@SharkbaitWrites
Mifuyu knew her grasp on reality was tenuous at times, the jagged scar bisecting her face ran much deeper than the physical. Even so, the twenty-two year old knew it was not normal to be picked up by a woman in jogging spandex with hair as pink as her limo.
“I understand we have you to thank for eliminating the devil at the docks,” the woman interlocked manicured fingers.
The woman appraised Mifuyu just like the doctors! To her, Mifuyu was just something to be studied!
“Who are you?” Mifuyu spat.
“It’s better if you don’t know that; but I suppose you can use my code name. Aphrodite,” Aphrodite leaned back. “Care to shed some light on how you did it?”
Mifuyu’s eyes roved over the doors. Where were the handles? She had to get out.
“I don’t remember,” Mifuyu grit her teeth. “I never remember…”
“They were calling him The Puppeteer, a real sick piece of work. Until you trussed him up in his own strings and made him cut out his own bowels. He had us very concerned. Should we be concerned about you?”
Mifuyu’s eyes widened, “You! You’re one of them!”
195 words
@DavidALudwig
The Devil’s Daughter
BBB stared at me with her sapphire eyes. A lilac Siamese, she was a cat-lover’s dream—opal flashed in her coat. Purple hid in her ears. Silver tapped on her toe-pads.
A talkative cat, she never did anything without asking permission.
Nevertheless, my husband was threatening to kill her.
When I went to sleep, she cried outside the bedroom door. After gaining entrance, she jumped on my feet under the quilt. Finding herself in the hall again, she took matters into her own mitts, palming the doorknob—and doing a perfect imitation of a burglar.
“This cat is not normal!” my husband exploded.
“She’s normal for a Siamese!” I apologized.
“She goes–or I kill her!” he promised. “We will never sleep again with her in the house!”
A tiny ad appeared in the St. Louis Post Dispatch: “Perfect Siamese for a one-cat household.”
We bred five altogether. BBB was the teenager who kept throwing her younger siblings around, too.
The man who answered the ad was ecstatic. His teenage daughter needed a one-of-a-kind birthday present. BBB rode to heaven in her father’s pink stretch limo. Troublesome daughters disappeared together. The perfect cat purred them to sleep.
(200 words)
Writing Is Hell
As whores went, Sheila was not normal by a long shot. For $20 you could use, abuse, invade and degrade her to your heart’s content. Then she’d tell you to keep your money.
She was the one that put me in contact with Him. Call him Satan, Ole Scratch, His Nibs, Lord of Darkness…you know of the guy. Misery loves company and Sheila figured she could score some points with The Boss by recruiting me. He offered, I signed. He got my immortal soul and I got twenty years of unparalleled success as THE preeminent author of my era. Anything I wrote would be golden.
I was ready for Him on the fateful day he popped into my stretch limo to call in my marker.
I told him the dreck I’d been writing had to be responsible for plenty of moral decay and sinful thoughts and deeds. I reminded him there must be a a bazillion talented authors who’d blown their brains out or went postal over my success. In short, I was way more use to him here than in Hell. Reluctantly, the Infernal One agreed and now you know the secret of my unbroken string of best-selling books.
200 Words @klingorengi
Silent Partners
By Lisa McCourt Hollar
“You know, it is not normal to ride around town in a pink limo.”
“That’s kind of funny, all things considered. Besides, I wanted to make sure we were noticed”
The devil chuckled. “Seriously Mark, you think if I didn’t want to be noticed, we wouldn’t be?”
“I know you have your ways, but so do I. I took…precautions.”
“Such as?”
“I washed the car in holy water. Your manipulations won’t work. Trust me, everyone is staring.” To prove his point, Mark rolled the car window down and waved at a group of children standing on the corner.
“Wow,” one of the kids shouted, “did you see who that was inside?”
“Smart, but it changes nothing. You promised me your soul in exchange for success.”
“No, I promised you A soul. I’m not ready to turn mine over yet…or ever for that matter.”
“Sounds like you have a proposition?”
“Have you ever heard of Organ Donations?”
“Organ donors have slowed a lot of my agreements.”
“Sounds like a loop hole. Lucky for you I have an idea to take Facebook and organ donating to a new level…and help you acquire a few extra souls in the process.”
“I’m listening.”
Word Count: 199
@jezri1
Noraleen had two objectives: to repaint the limo ASAP, and ditch the damn fairy. Who asked him along anyway? And aren’t fairies all girls? This is not normal.
“So – antacid is your favorite color, yes?”
Noraleen glared across the limo at the creature she now considered her personal demon. He balanced over the bar, sampling each bottle, growing cockier with each sip.
“You picked the color, you bat-winged twit. All I asked for was a way to get my sister to prom.” My sister, who never gets anything nice because it’s all used up before it gets to her.
“Yes, we’ll get to her. Eventually.”
The limo sped along the highway. With any luck, He-Tinkerbell hadn’t screwed up her first wish. Hopefully Sara was already trying on the prom dress Noraleen had wished for her.
“Decided on a third wish yet? Three to a customer, y’know.”
The limo turned down a gravel driveway. My driveway. Noraleen peeked at the driver. He looks human. If not, I have a license. You don’t need a CDL for limos, right?
“Hellooooo….?”
~*~
Everyone loved the silver “twisted fairy” torc Sara wore with her dress.
No one more so than Noraleen.
196 words
Double DOH!! Lost my prompt!!
My sister took one look at the pepto-pink limo and blanched. “You wouldn’t dare. That’s not normal!”
I smoothed the voluminous layers of my gown. “You’re wrong, sunshine! And this isn’t the half of it!!
“But you agreed to a nice quiet little country wedding.”
“Yeah, and he agreed to keep his hands off my editorial staff.”
“So that’s what this is all about? You’re going to ruin your wedding and make a mockery out of marriage because he fired Nancy?”
“Don’t be ridiculous! I’m doing this because he fired her without consulting me first!”
“When he sees what you’ve done, he’s going to be humiliated.”
“That’s how all great relationships start. A show of power right from the get-go keeps everybody on their tip toes.”
A little tear wells up in the corner of one eye as she says, “I thought you guys loved each other.”
“We do,” I assure her breezily. “Madly. Passionately. Wildly. Now, get in the damn pink-mobile and while we make our way through town, I’ll tell you all about the time I cancelled his credit card while he was on a business trip overseas. God, it was a hoot!!”
@bullishink / 195 words
I am going to tell you a story Mohamed, It’s about my wife, the little slut was a beautiful person she was a slave, a beautiful, adoring, submissive slave. She thrived on fear, call it daddy issues, maybe she was just not normal, broken but that little bitch could never come unless she found herself at the end of a whip, or a hand. Her little mouth would quiver and through tears she would come.
On 9/11 I received a call she was on flight 93, and she was trembling, in 15 years of marriage she never once uttered the safe phrase, and on that day over the phone under the control of your men she uttered I LOVE YOU the only time in her life, She was scarred she was trembling and she came right there on the phone. And then she begged me to find you and fuck you and make you hurt like no one had hurt before. It took 11 years and my journey ends in this ridiculous pink limousine you have been driving around Las Vegas, but we both know the truth, you are the devil and this time the devil will get his due.
200 words @antonioangelo21
Two unlikely figures sat unnoticed outside the ER: a dark smoldering man and a woman with alabaster wings.
“Fifteen minutes, Christian Gray, pink car, in drag, begging to be cured of his … fascination.” The angel’s eyes twinkled.
The Devil howled with glee. No soul was more surely his than Gray. “Terms?”
“I win, you release him to His ‘mercies’, otherwise you take the next unborn.”
The Devil licked his lips, considering. Gray was in the bag. He eyed Lolita speculatively. “Deal.”
A pink limo screeched to a halt, depositing a disheveled someone in a frilly dress and stilettos with hairy legs and a 5 o’clock shadow.
“What’s all this?” The EMT grabbed the person.
“It’s not … normal – for me,” Panic in his voice.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you know who I am!”
“Should I, Miss?
“It’s Mr… Christian Gray. I swear to God. Help me and I’ll never hit a woman again, I was just assaulted….”
“Alright, MISTER Gray.” The EMT led him away, sputtering and crazed.
Lolita turned to the Devil, the smile on her lips worthy of a demon. “I win, release him.”
“You cheated! What did you do?”
“Nothing you wouldn’t have done in my place.”
200 words
@rowanwolf66
“What did you do to my car?”
The shout came from outside. I followed the ranting curses through the garage and into the driveway, where Nicodemus was sputtering and kicking tires.
“I improved it. Clearly,” said I, yawning.
“I had a sweet little black Alfa Romeo. This atrocity shouldn’t even exist in nature.”
“Don’t say that, you’ll hurt her feelings.”
He kicked the bumper, “What in Hell’s bells am I supposed to do with a stretch limo in fuchsia?”
I studied it. “Really, it’s more hot pink.”
“You’re not normal.”
“Sez you. It’s got tinted windows. And a tape deck.”
He squinted inside, “What is this, 1986?”
“I just thought your look needed an update.”
He slumped against the car, “No one will take me seriously in this thing.”
“So that is when you strike.”
He wrenched open the door, “Mara the Temptress. Stick to your own damn religion. I’ve got souls to collect.”
The tires squealed as he made his hot pink way down the street. The smell of burning rubber hung in the air. I took several long breaths and licked my lips.
Nothing like beating the devil at his own game to make you hungry for breakfast.
200 words – @ruanna3
“Looks like Lightning has stalled. El Demonio is coming for the kill!” the PA announcer bellowed.
Sweat formed on Johnny Lightning’s forehead as he stared at the approaching truck. The crowd rose to watch El Demonio end Johnny Lightning’s great run.
It wasn’t the first time Lightning and El Demonio squared off as the final combatants in the annual county fair demolition derby. Five years running, Lightning had lost to the truck with the iconic devil horns mounted on the hood. It was always some trick that El Demonio pulled that sealed his victory.
With those losses, no one sponsored Lightning this year. The only car he could afford was an old pink limousine. Nobody expected him to last, but he held on. The crowd even warmed to him until he stalled.
As the truck approached, Lightning waited. Too late and he would be crushed. Too soon and El Demonio would recover. With the truck mere yards away, Lightning floored the gas, propelling the massive limo forward. El Demonio tried to turn, but his truck slammed into the wall.
Silence fell over the crowd. They knew this was not normal. Johnny Lightning had beaten El Demonio at his own game.
200 words
@hlpauff
Title: Fallen
Aidan ghosted over the tops of the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Apathy almost caused him to miss the bright pink limo lumbering down the street far below him.
He turned around as he made his approach but the limo was gone. “That’s not normal” he murmured as he pressed a button on his arm cuff.
As he flew between buildings with his urgency building, he finally caught sight of the offending vehicle. The limo clearly had seen better days, the sides were dented and part of it looked scorched, but it still worked.
He jumped ahead the limo and braced for the impact, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him at all but the force would push him back a foot or two. Instead of the sound crunching metal, he only heard the faint rustle of his wings in the wind.
Standing in front of him was a little girl with blond hair wearing a bright pink dress.
“Change,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Change.”
The little girl disappeared. The limo was still gone, too. He looked around incredulous, an unease filling his body. Aidan took to the rooftops again, his thoughts troubled.
@MLGammella
196 Words of a possible new WIP
“Have you ever tried beating the Devil at his own game?” Jack asked as he glanced over at Cassie.
“Is Sebastian Leech the Devil in this scenario?”
Jack didn’t smile as he chauffeured the Pepto-Bismol pink stretch limo to Sebastian Leech’s swanky party. Cassie would be attending as a big-wig investor for one of his “community center” projects. The idea of being in the same room as the suspected pedophile made her skin crawl more than the heavy makeup she wore as a disguise.
“He is, you know.”
“The Devil? I know. And no, I’ve never tried. But we’ll get him this time.” She laid a hand on his arm as he turned the hideous car into the long winding driveway of the Leech estate. “I promise, Jack.”
“Just be careful, Cassie. He’s not normal.” He shook his head and grimaced. “Or rather, he’s completely normal, except for his taste in sexual partners. And he’s smooth. Watch your back.”
Cassie nodded as the car slid to a stop and got out. Jack clenched his jaw.
“Better the devil you know…” Then she winked and was gone.
@SiobhanMuir
186 #WIP500 words
#MenageMonday is now closed. Thank you all for entering and good luck!!
THE LAMB
“Hi. Are you Sarah?”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. When Tiffany said she’d have someone pick her up, she never expected Justin Bieber. He smiled and put on his black driver’s cap and escorted her out to the limo.
“Sarah!” Tiffany hugged Sarah when she climbed into the leather-lined interior of the ultra-plush limo. She was wearing a tiara, a skimpy little dress, and what looked like the biggest diamond necklace ever.
“Is that…”
“Yes,” Tiffany screamed and smiled. “Look!” She pointed to the front where Ryan Gosling and Channing Tatum were having an intense argument over abs.
“Um,” Sarah said, “This is…not normal. Am I dreaming?”
“No, silly. You’re not dreaming. All my dreams came true! All I had to do is make one little deal.” Tiffany closed the door and the interior went dark, lit only by running lights and the orange glow of a cigarette in the back. The cigarette’s elderly owner grinned at Sarah. A shiver rolled down Sarah’s spine and turned her guts to ice.
“Who’s he?”
“He’s the devil,” Tiffany waved at him.
“You sold your soul to party with hot guys? Are you crazy?”
“Oh,” Tiffany smiled. “I didn’t sell MY soul.”
200 words
@zombiemechanics
Disqualified because I missed the deadline.
Late, but totally worth the wait, J.