Writing Explorations: Week 55, Troping Again

[The Mood is Write]

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Sorry for the late post, and I have a new update (as of 4/1, and no, it's not an April fool joke).

This week and for the next few coming, I will not be reading through every response and commenting on them. Recent weeks have been a flurry of mental activity that have made it difficult to read and pay proper attention.

Know that I still love every single post people put up, and it's a joy to read them. I will not be pausing the exercises themselves—I enjoy coming up with themes and ideas for them, and it forces me to stretch my brain in new directions.

I will pick back up on reading once I have more free time to do so!

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My Writing Explorations series of exercises are a chance for users to explore new concepts and practice the art of raising two fingers to Writer's Block while screaming obscenities to fickle muses: to rebel against the idea that a person requires a mythical force inside them to make new and amazing things.

No. Listen well, users: there is no being inside you waiting to be let out. You are the writer, and in this exercise, you are given a place to push not only against Writer's Block, but also against the forces of stagnation. Feel trapped in your genre? Explore a new one! Stuck with a singular archetype? Do something else! In this thread, you will not be critiqued, and I will read every entry and let you know what makes me happy about it (temporarily not doing this). Should you wish it, I will happily offer my thoughts on how it might be improved, but I will not comb looking for fixes: this isn't the place: this place is for safely trying new things and indulging a love of writing.

Shake the bars of your cell block and roar, writers!

[fieldbox=How do I take part?]Curious about how this works? Good! Look over the offered themes and prompts and the bonus rounds, then think about them. Then, take your thoughts and get writing. You can write to one or more (or none) of the prompts, the theme in the thread title, the bonuses: hell, you can even cast aside all of what I offer if you get a different idea.

The whole point is "get writing!"[/fieldbox]

Themes:

1. Not Evil, Just Misunderstood
2. Nonverbal Miscommunication
3. Not-So-Omniscient Council of Bickering

Bonus Rounds:

• Write in a random genre.
• "Ahem, yes, well, thank you both for answering. That was, however, not a hypothetical question."
• "I make social anxiety look good."
• "So, I think I've solved your AC vent problem. You've got secret agents crawling around up there."
• "Welcome back, Cap—Whoa! Are you pregnant?"

 

[VeilofRain]

"They've been rebelling for days! Spouting: don't kill our children. Don't burn the crops!" The raspy voices climbed up into the ears of two figures.
They were encased in a rather sturdy tube, cool to the touch with a breeze like a yeti's breath causing their toes to start to freeze. In the front a Frank Walker, a muscular figure adorned in a specialized stealth suit crawled on their elbows in a rather unceremonious view of their special gear. Behind him another figure did the same, her emerald gaze burning into him when he looked back. Trish Danzel was the more lithe of the two, and the one that should have been crawling in the lead.

Frank couldn't see her lips behind her mask, but she brought two fingers to her eyes and gestured towards him. So, she liked his ass huh? Frank grinned behind his mask and squeezed the muscles, giving her a show. Trish's eyes were more white than anything when she recognized what he was doing. Anger and humility flushed her cheeks and she brought her fist sharp into his thigh. The charlie horse earned a pained sound, like a whispered grunt as Frank stifled himself from alerting those below them. His eyes squeezed shut and he gently laid his head on the cool surface as he bit his cheek to keep from whining.

"Those buffoons. They think their opinions matter. This is complete domination we're talking about!" Those down below kept on their spouting.
"Buffoons? Would you readily turn on your people? You have no tact. If we had done it my way-"
"Your way! Feh! If we had done it your way we'd all be dead!"

The voices below began to overlap as they spouted nonsense at one another. Frank was grateful when the pain had finally subsided enough for him to open his eyes. He looked back at Trish, who was still giving him that furrow browed fury. He couldn't snap at her, not if he didn't want them to get caught.
He pointed at her, then touched his lips and pointed at his own bottom. His attempt to tell her to kiss his ass earned a quirked brow from Trish. Frank rolled his eyes and repeated the gesture, unaware of just how his arm was moving from point at her, to his lips. Trish allowed him a nod and thumbs up. Frank stared, confused with her acceptance of the insult before he finally gave up and tried to move, she gripped onto his waist. Frank panicked, thinking he was going to be attacked again when he felt something moving over him. Trish was crawling over him. Yanking at him, dragging herself over him. Frank flailed, and she glared at him. He was trying to push her back, but they were becoming tangled. He tugged on his mask, and blew kisses at her, throwing his head to gesture towards his ass. Trish's hands plastered to his face, thinking he was trying to earn some kind of kiss. Their struggles were only wedging them in tight. Before they realized it, a the terrible gust that chilled them was only below.

With a sigh Trish let her head lull. They were stuck. She pointed at the two of them, then at her wrist as if checking a watch. They were going to be there awhile. Frank looked at his own wrist, no watch, and shook his head. He couldn't tell her the time. This was going to be a long trip.

They didn't know how much time had passed, but the yelling from below seemed endless. They were ready to just blow through the vent when a loud clacking alerted them to a presence. They both looked up to the face of a dark creature. It's four eyes locked upon them, blinking rapidly as two long fingers hung onto the vent from either side. The round face had a small opening near what they presumed was it's neck. It looked like a fish out of water, then it vanished below and they heard it's deep voice.

"So, I think I've solved your AC vent problem. You've got secret agents crawling around up there."

Frank and Trish looked to one another. They were caught. The bickering had silenced. They had no choice. They gripped a cord on each other's suits and tugged them. Both of them expanded so quickly the vent ripped opened, splintering metal and causing have the tubs to tumble, terrifying the council meeting below as the two bounced off the ground, drawing tiny pistols and pointing it at the collection of strange dark creatures.

"Alright you worguloams. We aren't going to let you slaughter innocent children and burn the crops!" Trish snapped, doing her best to keep her aim on the weird slim creatures. They threw their arms, tentacles, things up and looked at one another with their four eyes.

"You were welcomed, why would you do this!?" Frank asked as he began to spin in the wrong direction. He grunted and let out a heavy breath, trying to keep his aim from toppling away.

"Uh-" Began one of the bickering councilman, "there is a terrible disease sweeping through out people which could affect yours. It is stemming from the reaction of the crops in this atmosphere and affecting children the most. There is no cure, only pain. We are trying to cure it. Sooo, yeah"

The worguloams just stared at the two agents. At first, it seemed impossible to believe, but a quick glance around the room spelled everything out with childlike simplicity. They were telling the truth. Frank and Trish looked to one another, unsure whether they were relieved, or disappointed. This wasn't going to please the higher ups.
They sighed and closed their eyes, "Aw crap."

 

[MST3K 4ever]

(Continuation of Week 54 character and situation)

I've been floating in the soda can for a good long while. I can tell this because when I escaped it was just after lunch and now dusk is settling over the swampland near the institute. I have no clue how far I've gone at this point, the only thing I know for sure is that I'm tired of bobbing up and down like a fishing lure. I've had to turn the can every so often to keep the opening of the can from taking in water. I would hate to go through all this trouble of escaping only to drown in a soda can.

There are certain things in life I thought I would have to accept. Like being alone in life, not because I make social anxiety look good. I just have a very high standard of people I choose to associate with. I also figured I would have to accept being trapped in a small town teaching high school science, not just because I decided not to play the political games of University politics, but also among my colleagues I firmly believe I am the smartest person in the school system. Lastly, I would accept the fact that I would also be somewhat of an outcast to my family as well because I still had my freedom. I'm wasn't tied down to anyone or any other responsibilities other than just me. Everyone else had a spouse/partner and kinds, but I didn't that wasn't for me. I could live on my terms I was Master, Queen, High Priestess, and Madame President of my world. If I knew then what I know now...I can't believe how arrogant and narcissistic I was. Okay fine I admit it I was a bitch, and now this is how God, The Universe, Karma, or life or whatever is in charge is teaching me a lesson in humility. By having me shrunken down to about four inches tall with no real discernable possibility of getting back to normal size.

I've had about enough of the SS Dr. Pepper. I'm ready to venture out on my own a bit. Besides it would be nice to try and see if I have any chance of knowing where I am or anything like that. I stick my head out of the soda can and the humidity is so thick I can almost see the moisture in the air. Not to mention it isn't doing my black hair any favors either I can already feel my hair slowly curling because of it. However, I do see a place where there's land. If nothing else I can finally walk on solid ground for as long as I want. At the institute, they allowed me to walk as part of their training programs for me. Otherwise, I was carried around in someone's hands or with a set of tweezers. I shift my weight and turn the can to the shore line. Once the can stops moving I say, "Okay end of the line Valerie." I guess I should start getting used to the sound of my own voice for a while too. Chances are likely I won't be hooking up with a travelling companion anytime soon, and if I do see another person chances are likely they'll look at me like I'm a freak.

Stepping out of the can I almost immediately sink in the mud, but I manage to get a few steps away from the can and get myself on solid ground. I look around and ask, "Now where to from here oh great Dr. Kramer?" I start to head towards a collection of lights and realize that I am near some kind of roadside diner. I'll admit if I was normal size I wouldn't be caught dead in an area like this, but since I am not normal size beggars can't be choosers. I manage to get inside of the kitchen area and spot the employees check in area which has a small fridge. Even at this size I still have to eat although it won't take much to feed me. I am able to get to the fridge and with every fiber of strength I push and I get the door open. I have to pick something fast I can't risk staying out in the open like this. A crumb or two of cheese will do just fine. I devour two crumbs and realize that I'm almost full. I say, "Bright side I will probably lose a lot of weight. I'll be able to fit into the Barbie winter collection with no problem."

I close the door and crawl under a nearby door. I stand up and take about a dozen steps away from the building then suddenly realize I am being watched by a cat. He is eyeing me up and down like it's Saturday night and he doesn't have a date to the dance, and I'm the only girl in town. I say, "Ummmm...look Garfield all I want is to get out of wherever here is. You go your way I'll go mine. Deal?" The cat growls and I say, "Sorry if Garfield offended you, but right now I'm still working on my social skills." The cat hisses and I say, "You wouldn't want to eat me anyway I'm a lot of bone and gristle anyway. Not a lot of meat on me." I watch the back end of the cat raise up and wiggle. This usually means that a cat is about to strike at whatever it is looking at. I can't run there is no way I will be able to outrun it. I swallow hard and say, "Just try to make it quick." With that the cat leaps out, and with it's right back paw pushes me away and it lands snarling on top of a rat that was even closer to me than the cat was. I should be running, but for some reason I can't take my eyes off of the battle in front of me. Finally the rat is dead, but the cat isn't getting up too fast. I slowly approach the badly wounded feline. Judging from it's wounds I can tell it won't be suffering too much longer. I gently stroke the top of it's head, and his eyes roll towards me. I say, "Thank you." The cat lets out a very short and low purr as it's eyes close.

I walk away from the cat with a profound sense of gratitude. Maybe life and all that isn't trying to get even with me, but maybe it's trying to teach me things I wouldn't learn otherwise. I see a minivan nearby with a door open. It has Virginia tags on it and I hear someone say, "Okay everyone in the car it's a few hundred miles to home. Besides I can't wait to get the pictures from Disney World uploaded." Well now I know I'm in Florida somewhere, and Virginia sounds as good as anyplace right now. One of the doors is open, and I jump in and crawl under the front passenger seat. I say, "It's not a soda can, but at least I won't have to worry about drowning." I hear the car start and up away I go.