Original Bad Prose or Stories!

[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.

[Kätzchen]

After years of being the healthy individual she had always been, Maggie suddenly found herself staring at the endless bottles of prescription medication on her kitchen table.

Maggie had just been released from the hospital the night before, after having an attack of the shits. In Maggie's mind, Maggie kept cursing the doctor who kept putting her on medication after medication, to get to the bottom of the continual problem of having to visit the toilet more than she ever did in her life, before the Wheel of Medication turned her life upside down.

Remembering her latest fiasco of having accidentally shit her panties at the doctors office and how the stool lab came back with an less than normal outcome, Maggie complained to her doctor that he was going to find himself in a shit load of trouble if he couldn't get her on the right medication to prevent having to take a shit every hour on the hour.

Unfortunately, much to Maggie's chagrin, the doctor said, "Oh, Maggie, you're just full of Shit!"

Staring at the doctor, Maggie replied: "You're too late, I'm not full of shit!"


................. ............. .............

(This story is based upon an real life experience. The names of both parties are kept anonymous for the sake of anonymity)

( )

[Kätzchen]

I couldn't find the Bad Haiku thread, so I thought I'd post my bad haiku ditty here, today. It's about my dumb 'smart' phone and the litany of typos I see, after its too late to correct my typos.

Ode to my Dumb "Smart" Phone

Every time my fingers type (7)
Correct words to say (5)
I see typos way too late (7)

[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".

[SoNotHer]

Inventing and selling the clap on/clap off cock wasn’t all the knee-jerk-slapping, panty-twisting good time people thought it was. Since the failure of his “Dirty Dick Tricks” sex magic set, Ott wanted to make sure he thought long and hard in the excogitation phase of his new, convenient love missile. And he knew that the marketing deployment of this phallic phenomenon had to be equal to the promise of this easy, pleasy cock rocket’s red glare. No, this time, QVC and “As seen on TV” ads wouldn’t due. In fact, nothing less than a helicopter drop of flying pamphelted plastic penises would.

[Truly Scrumptious]

If she’d been paying more attention, she might have noticed the ginger tabby before she backed up over him flattening him into what looked like burnt toast covered in marmalade (and when it turned out that his name had indeed been Marmalade, she’d remark on the irony, smiling at the word irony because it made her think of ironing which of course made her think of flat, unwrinkled things and Marmalade was indeed flat though not unwrinkled) but instead she’d been thinking about what a great day it had been, which was a huge relief because she was wearing her new boots that she loved but that she was almost convinced were bad luck on account of something bad happening each of the three previous times she’d worn them and while she didn’t want to give them up, she knew that sometimes one just had to let go and believe in fate which thankfully she knew was now smiling upon her right up until she got distracted by the old lady running out of the house screaming “Marmalade, oh Marmalade”, and she took her foot off the brake, backed up inadvertently, and heard a giant splat.

[Cin]

The first sentence of the book written about the female serial killer who came to be known as The KupKake Killer:

Snot ran down and blended with the dirt already encrusted on her fat face as she tried to sneak out of the classroom without being seen as the other kids, the charming, sweet and sweet smelling, well and cleanly dressed, towheaded blue eyed darlings, screamed and yelled their good-byes and happy holidays to teacher on their way out the door as Christmas vacation was starting today, but she knew nobody especially, well especially anybody, wanted a happy holiday hug from her smelly fat self, so she took her cupcake from the party and headed for the door when the most annoying, most beautiful, most well liked, most popular, meanest, cruelest, most hurtful girl in the school dropped her cupcake right in front of her, her personal tormentor’s gooey goody was right there in her path; she picked up her foot and brought it down on the cupcake smashing it to sticky smithereens, immediately she felt a hard slap across her face and the tight angry words from teacher “I saw what you did”, reverberated in her ears, “now you give Emily your cupcake right now” the words you certainly don’t need it you horrid fat cow left unsaid, but all the more louder for that, and meekly she handed her cupcake to the crying Emily whose mouth turned up into a sneer that stabbed home the truth of it all, the sneer brought clarity and explained sensibly, I hope you get this, I hope you remember this lesson, you can’t beat me, you can’t win against me, I am beautiful and popular, the world smiles when I smile and no one will ever choose your side you ugly dirty fat loser.

[*Anya*]

Originally Posted by SoNotHer

Inventing and selling the clap on/clap off cock wasn’t all the knee-jerk-slapping, panty-twisting good time people thought it was. Since the failure of his “Dirty Dick Tricks” sex magic set, Ott wanted to make sure he thought long and hard in the excogitation phase of his new, convenient love missile. And he knew that the marketing deployment of this phallic phenomenon had to be equal to the promise of this easy, pleasy cock rocket’s red glare. No, this time, QVC and “As seen on TV” ads wouldn’t due. In fact, nothing less than a helicopter drop of flying pamphelted plastic penises would.

Hey! I want a clap on/clap off cock!

Oh, never mind, I would probably get carpal tunnel syndrome from repetitive clapping!

Great idea, btw

Another gem, SNH!