Writing Exercise #8

I had intended to suspend writing exercises during NaNoWriMo, but a friend suggested it might help others who are getting creativity-block. So, here we go:

I reckon this fella here just said something he instantly regretted. What happened? Was he in an argument with his wife? His boss? Give me a paragraph or two that tells me what happened to this poor schmuck. Let me know if you enjoy these. . .

Author: Stephen Hise

Stephen Hise is the Evil Mastermind and founder of Indies Unlimited. Hise is an independent author and an avid supporter of the indie author movement. Learn more about Stephen at his website or his Amazon author page.

8 thoughts on “Writing Exercise #8”

  1. How to fix this? he thought to himself quietly. The operation had soured almost from the start, now this. What a cluster…

    He snapped out of his pity party. No time to think about his career at this point, they needed to figure out how to get those men out of there. Pinned down on two sides, they were battling for their lives and the Pakistani's wouldn't let American jets through their airspace after last months drone strike. What to do? How to fix this?

    "Sir, we've got an evacuation plan," came the harsh, gravely voice of the Secretary of Defense. "We're gonna blow the bastards to paradise, that is with you permission."

    "Roger that, Mark. You have my leave, but I want the rest of those men home," he responded, the tension in his sinuses only increasing.

    "Thank you, Mr. President, we'll keep you apprised of the situation."

  2. This is insane! How could this possibly happen to me? I'm too old for this to happen in my life. Maybe when I was young and carefree, but now? I'm in my fifties, for God's sake!

    She just recently moved in with me, and things were going pretty good. She got up early this morning and when I joined her in the bathroom, she told me. I couldn't believe it. I am meeting her parents tonight for the first time. How am I supposed to walk into a crowded restaurant and meet my girlfriend's parents for the first time with this big-assed pimple on my nose?

  3. Oh God…Oh God…What have I done? Who invented that term anyway? Some jerk called Fred? Prutt? Damn! Now I would never going to get away with it. His head was throbbing trying to find a way to correct the situation. He could not find any. Desperate, he loosened up his tie, put as most innocent a face as he could, cleared his throat and knocked the door which had slammed shut a minute earlier.

    "Honey, I am sorry…I didn't mean to say that. I forgot it's the start of your period…"

  4. Oh my god, thought Fred, just my luck. I don't believe it. What evil karma had I attracted in my life? As if today hadn't gone badly enough. Kitty had done a runner this morning when I went to feed her, the milk had run out when I went to make my tea, my favourite tie had a wine stain on it, my car had a flat tyre, Mrs D at work forgot my 10am appointment, my favourite sandwich had sold out, my shoes sprung a leak and it started to rain… and now… and now… now I'm stuck in this lift with this horrible man who's just farted. And we've still got nine floors to go to the bottom. It smells so bad, like a gone-off, 20-day-old brussel sprout. If I squeeze my nose any harder it's going to drop off. What did I do to deserve this? And what the hell did he eat for dinner?

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