The VSS Six
Last week's words from Grand Master Unk were:
And I wrote for six of the seven (missing the rando one). The six VSSs are below.
It's time to close the door on my past. I poured my heart into this and you just kept handing it back. You're nothing to me now. Though you'll always be close. I know you like roses so maybe there's some poetic justice that I'll be using you as fertiliser.
Convict #00001 asked if he could wear a different coloured jumpsuit as the orange clashed with his skin. The board pointed out that after a couple of days his Good Genes spray tan would wear off.
Bob sat in his spare room he called The Office and deliberated his next moves. He hadn't been sure whether Carly had deliberately crashed into his car the other week. But now with overnight graffiti daubed across his front door it was clear: this was war.
'It's not nice to realise that you're just a missed heart beat away from death.'
'Don't you dare, Jimmy. You're not going to desert me in my hour of need. And be warned it will always be my hour of need.'
'Sorry. It's just been one of those days.'
'Well, get over it.
'I object to being objectified. You treat me like a blow up doll.'
'I hate to break it to you but you are a blow up doll. And you are the voice in my head.'
'Really, so why would I be moaning?'
'I'm after semi realism.'
'Fair enough. Well I'm after more than a semi.'
First there were the conversations; stocks, pensions, schools and Caribbean cruises. Then there were the cucamelons in the 'name that veg' salad and the ridiculous range of flavoured gins. I'd gone over to the dark side with my boogie nights replaced by bougie nights.
Now I've just got to pick the one to use for the seedling challenge.
- close
- convict
- deliberate
- desert
- object
- bougie
- rando
And I wrote for six of the seven (missing the rando one). The six VSSs are below.
It's time to close the door on my past. I poured my heart into this and you just kept handing it back. You're nothing to me now. Though you'll always be close. I know you like roses so maybe there's some poetic justice that I'll be using you as fertiliser.
Convict #00001 asked if he could wear a different coloured jumpsuit as the orange clashed with his skin. The board pointed out that after a couple of days his Good Genes spray tan would wear off.
Bob sat in his spare room he called The Office and deliberated his next moves. He hadn't been sure whether Carly had deliberately crashed into his car the other week. But now with overnight graffiti daubed across his front door it was clear: this was war.
'It's not nice to realise that you're just a missed heart beat away from death.'
'Don't you dare, Jimmy. You're not going to desert me in my hour of need. And be warned it will always be my hour of need.'
'Sorry. It's just been one of those days.'
'Well, get over it.
'I object to being objectified. You treat me like a blow up doll.'
'I hate to break it to you but you are a blow up doll. And you are the voice in my head.'
'Really, so why would I be moaning?'
'I'm after semi realism.'
'Fair enough. Well I'm after more than a semi.'
First there were the conversations; stocks, pensions, schools and Caribbean cruises. Then there were the cucamelons in the 'name that veg' salad and the ridiculous range of flavoured gins. I'd gone over to the dark side with my boogie nights replaced by bougie nights.
Now I've just got to pick the one to use for the seedling challenge.
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