Okay, I’ve decided right now that all of my bloggy peeps need to join in the Indie Ink Writing Challenge.I can see now why my RandyGirl has been encouraging all of us to join for a while since, not only is the challenge of writing from a random prompt fun, but this has got to be the nicest official-type writing group that I have ever joined. Everyone has been so incredibly welcoming and encouraging that I started to feel all gushy and smushy in my chest. I’ve had experiences with other official-type writing groups and I have quite a rant prepared for when I talk about them, but I’ll save that. Right now I’d just like to say thank you so much to all of the II writers, and welcome to the ones brave enough to stick around for more.~ Also, as always, much love to the peeps who have been wonderfully crazy enough to stick around for months and continue to give me such amazing support.
Group grope hug!
I LOVE PYGMY GOATS!! SQUEEEE!!!
Last week, when I posted the product of my first II prompt, my challengee, Mandy from My Plaid Pants, had not done hers yet, so I figured I’d wait to link over to her blog since I planned on writing another post before Friday and would mention it then. Well you know what they say about the best laid plans, and I did not end up doing another post last week. This really has me pissed at myself because Mandy did such a brilliant job with the prompt I gave her, too. *growl* She even took the trouble to research from which book I had chose the quote that was the prompt! *growls again* It’s late, but here is Mandy’s amazing post from last week, The Optimist.
I am not making the same mistake this week, so even though she hasn’t done her prompt yet, check in on octoberesque at The Grace of Pirates who was the lucky(?) recipient of a prompt from moi this week. I won’t spoil the surprise of telling you what was my prompt since some II peeps like to save the reveal of the prompt until the end. I, however, like to tell ya’all what my prompt was from the start since I try to give everyone as much preparation as possible to gird their loins if they are going to read my creative writing. My prompt this week came from another feline female, Katri from The Cat with Glasses. She challenged me with “A day with no bad news”, and it certainly was a challenge for me. I think I made it more difficult for myself than it needed to be, but nevertheless an idea finally erupted in my mind, so I put the idea and the prompt in my skull, shook it around a bit and here follows the product of that mixology.
The King yawned as he walked into the dining hall. A dreadful storm had raged through the night and despite the thick stone walls of the castle, the noise of it still managed to seep into his bed chamber and keep him awake for much of the night. He rubbed some sleep from his eyes, then smiled anxiously as his manservant, Duboncote, presented a covered plate in front of him. His expression dropped into confusion as Duboncote lifted the lid from the plate and revealed two small onions.
“Oh no, but this is terrible! My dear Duboncote, I am losing my faculties!” the King exclaimed. “Do you know that I somehow thought that I ate eggs for breakfast, and not onions?”
“Worry not, your Majesty, your faculties remain completely in tact since you do indeed usually eat eggs for breakfast,” Duboncote assured the King.
The King dabbed his forehead with the napkin that the servant had tucked in his collar. “Well, now that is a relief,” he said. “I did think that it would be strange to eat onions for breakfast since I do not fancy onions and only a lunatic would request a food that they do not like when they could easily request a food which they do.”
“That is true, your Majesty, however you are no such lunatic since you frequently request food that you do like to eat rather than that which you do not,” Duboncote replied.
“Incidentally, Duboncote,” the King studied the twin bulbs on his plate, “why do I have onions for breakfast rather than eggs?”
His servant gave an excited jump. “I was just about to tell you the news. The storm last night destroyed the coop where we kept the chickens, and chickens–being the clever creatures that they are–took it upon themselves to exit the area of the ruined coop and run away to to the countryside to draw any wolves from the castle!”
“I say!” The King’s jaw dropped in shock. “And here I had not even noticed any wolves near the castles!”
“Precisely, your Majesty! All goes according to plan!”
“And what a brilliant plan it is!” the King beamed. But then he became confused again.
“Duboncote, would I still be the master of my faculties if I wondered why there was no bread for breakfast either?” he asked.
“You would absolutely be the master of your faculties, your Majesty!” Duboncote gave a bow. “For you see, we had the fortune to play host to a large colony of mice who took shelter in the grain silo from the storm last night. Those considerate creatures consumed all of the grain so that they are quite healthy now and will provide better sport to your pet cats than if they were hungry and weak.”
“This is splendid!” the King thumped the table in joy. “Those cats were getting fat and lazy for lack of good sport!”
“Indeed!” Duboncote continued. “Oh yes, and I must also tell you about the patch of grass which is located under your favourite tree in the courtyard.”
“Do you mean the tree under which I have taken tea since I was a boy?” the King asked.
“Yes, the very same, your Majesty! That poor patch of grass grew in the shadow of the tree for such a long time, but now it is the happy recipient of more sunlight as the tree was torn from the ground during the storm!”
“What luck for that deprived grass!” the King exclaimed. “Imagine how it will enjoy the extra sunshine!”
“It certainly shall, your Majesty, and what is more, the tree had the foresight to fall across river next to the castle thus creating a perfectly lovely dam!” Duboncote told the King.
“What luck for us then!” the King laughed.
“Oh but wait, there’s more, your Majesty!” Duboncote gasped happily. “I am pleased to tell you that the kitchen chamber is now twice as productive as before the storm.”
The King’s eyes widened. “Truly? But how is such an amazing feat accomplished?”
“The new dam has redirected the river so that it flows into the kitchen, and now that very same room can be used as a bath house!” the King’s servant exclaimed.
“How ingenius!” the King shouted with a flourish.
“Oh! And as to the matter of genius, please permit me to tell you about your dear brother, your Majesty,” Duboncote begged as he dropped to his knees.
“Why yes, of course, my good Duboncote!” The King lent a hand to pull his servent to his feet. ” A splendid man he is, too, my brother, and how I enjoy our daily game of chess.” The King then drummed his fingers on his chin, already pondering his strategy for that afternoon.
“He is most certainly a splendid man,” Duboncote agreed as he brushed off his pants, “and as such he has had the grace and the prudence to forfeit all future chess games to you, thus declaring you the victor for all time!”
“What kindness!” the King gasped.
“I agree, your Majesty!” Duboncote said bowing low. “It humbles me to reflect on how your brother granted you such a boon by dropping dead of a failed heart during a particularly loud crack of thunder last night!”
“He does know how I enjoy winning!” The king laughed and flopped back in his chair in mirth.
Duboncote laughed as well, and then continued. “Alas I have kept his Majesty from his breakfast for too long.” He adjusted the napkin in the King’s collar. “Please forgive me, but I could not wait to share all of these tidings with you before someone else had the pleasure.”
“Not at all, dear Duboncote,” the King placed a reassuring hand on his faithful manservent’s shoulder and then picked up one of the onions. “It shall aid in my digestion to sup after such a morning report as thus!”
Duboncote smiled and bowed low as he exited the dining hall.
‘How lovely,’ the king thought as he chewed the onion, the acidic smell rising to his eyes and causing tears to stream down to his beard, ‘to have a day with no bad news.’
PS-I know I don’t say “fuck” nearly enough in my entries where I do creative writing, but I’m sure I’ll make up for it in my random-slice-of-Kat’s-life posts.