Original Bad Prose or Stories!

[WomenMoveMe]

“You are NOT sticking that thing in me!!”. She was almost hysterical now. “It is so…BIG. Why does it have to be so…BIG”? He was usually a calm man. He couldn’t remember getting worked up about much of anything, but he was all worked up now. Why did she have to be so difficult? Why could she not see this would be good for her, for the both of them? “Now listen woman, this is a part of life, and you will take it and be happy about it! It will make you feel good. I promise.” He tried to hide his disappointment. For weeks they had been having the same argument. Why didn’t she just shut up and let him stick it in her? She was almost in tears now. “It’s so long, it looks like it will hurt.” He tried to regain a bit of his usual composure. “It will only hurt the first time. You’ll see”. She pushed him away. “Nope, not gonna happen”. That was it. He was tired of playing games. He was putting it in and she would just have to get used to it. He moved closer. He was going to have to move fast if he was going to get it in there. And with one quick motion, he thrust the insulin needle into her hip.

[Cin]

Arlo couldn’t imagine how hy had lived before Poppy. It was as though hys life began when Poppy smiled. Hy remembered how she had smiled at hym the day hys buddy had introduced hym. Hy remembered how ecstatic hy was just knowing her name. Before Poppy, hy had simply wandered aimlessly through hys life, going through the motions of living. Now, Arlo could attest to being completely present. Hy couldn’t wait for the next minute to begin while still being able to live totally, completely in the moment. A trick that was as difficult as it was impossible. Hys body ached, hys soul ached, hys heart ached, hys entire being ached and it wasn’t the flu. No, it was love. The love Arlo had found in this deep meaningful connection with the woman of hys dreams. A woman who was, coincidently, not only beautiful beyond measure, but was also as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Everything Arlo had ever wanted was embodied there in Poppy. Hy looked up and glanced toward hys soul mate as she sat calmly, regally across the room. She was everything hy would ever need and everything hy could ever want, she was all the things hy had dreamed of in a partner. She was all things to hym. It never ceased to amaze hym how she could be exactly who hy wanted her to be, how everything hy ever dreamed was exactly who she was. Now if only hy could only find a way to get to know her. Then they could begin planning the wedding.

[Truly Scrumptious]

She knew that tomcat wasn’t right in the head the day he showed up on her doorstep all mangy and hissing and carrying a dirty rag in his mouth like it was some kind of precious doll baby, but she invited him in and poured him a bowl of cream because in some way he reminded her of her momma who also wasn’t right in the head and was now serving time (and serving herself up too, to hear her tell it) for going all postal like after that “incident” down at the refinery, but she knew it wasn’t the cat’s fault and after all we all have our crosses to bear, her cross in particular being made out of clay and pipe cleaners momma had fashioned in prison arts & crafts class and which weighed about 10 pounds but which she wore around her neck dutifully even though she was developing quite a stoop.

[*Anya*]

Susan reflected deeply on her life, stretching back as far as infancy, though everyone told her that she could not possibly remember back that far but she knew that she could and that everyone else was wrong about that and she laughed-a sound somewhere between a phlegm-filled, 30-year smoker and that of the organ-grinder that had mysteriously appeared on her street last week, complete with a monkey in a jaunty red-satin hat, wearing jodhpurs with bright orange suspenders, that matched her coat and she reflected on her life and thought that was good, very good, the best it ever had been; excellent as a matter of fact.

She thoughtfully stared out of the dual-paned windows that she had installed last winter to keep out the cold and to lower her heating bill, watching the white crystals of frost cling to the edges of the panes and the little rivulets of water that almost appeared the same as the diamond-sparkling jewels of the tears she had shed the other day, as she buttoned up her orange, mohair coat, that looked something like Fluffy, her long-deceased cat that she had loved so much and had been crying over and she wondered if she had gotten the coat because it did remind her of all of those nights that Fluffy cuddled her in her down-filled bed, complete with down-filled duvet, down pillows and down feather bed, when she was missing her long-lost lover that used to cuddle her in bed before she was replaced by Fluffy but she reasoned, there was nothing she could do about either of them and she could always sleep with her coat, if she got really lonely.

She picked up her prized Bic pen and began to chew on the well-chewed end, as she usually did when thinking hard about something-which was her custom but also because thinking was difficult for her but she did her very best and with a deeply furrowed brow, she began to pen her missive. She kept her coat on because it comforted her and helped her to think better.

[SoNotHer]

Thank you all!

[Hollylane]

She wasn’t really very angry, though her scrunched face and pursed lips resembling something akin to a dried prune, or possibly a saladito in their constant dryness from lack of moisture, may have said otherwise to the passing stranger with the whites of their eyes showing in amazement at the fact that with this strained look that she had not yet imploded on the spot or simply had a bowel movement on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse.

[*Anya*]

**Bumping*** because surely, we must still have some very, very, bad, it is SO good, writing waiting to come out, don't we?

That sentence was pretty bad...

I just gave you a little push.

[Cin]

Originally Posted by SoNotHer

Thank you all!

That was hilarious. I couldn't help cracking up and then I felt mean. Just like those guys. The woman anchor did not find it amusing at all.

[Hollylane]

She licked the sour sweet taste of lime from her slack lips and frowned in consternation that she had not remembered to drink the tequila and only performed the first part and last part of the process of lick it, slam it, suck it. Perhaps this type of forgetfulness was also the reason her lover’s face had looked so confused when she forgot to remove her jeans and ended up wide eyed and floundering with her tongue stuck in the zipper.

With this as food for her few and fleeting thoughts, she lightly fingered the ripped up part of her tongue that ached from the bitter experience of metal teeth and that now stung from the lime and salt combo, minus the pain killing properties of the tequila that still sat on the bar in silent mourning for the part of her brain that seemed to be missing, and for the sad loss of the last remaining brain cell that used to sing out daily in a forlorn voice "I can see for miles and miles".