The VSS Seven
The VSS prompts this week were in order: parents; stick; London; pantomime; bliss; read; bow. Pretty open for story ideas then. These were my seven:
The children were separated from their parents, who stood outside in fear. Forced into the toy emporium with their contactless credit cards it was an epic free for all. Two children were packed off that night never to be seen again. Probably in a Lego grave right now.
'Dad, I'm scared.'
'I know, son. It's terrifying, but stick with me and we'll get out of here.'
'Promise?'
'Of course. I should never have brought you here. Deep breath, keep close to the wall and follow me.'
Eventually they made it out of the Trafford Centre alive.
Five days before Brexit and London was a mess. The press had stoked the fear factor up to 11 and half the shops were shut and boarded up; the shelves bare. I looked down on the crazy town comforted by the walls of tinned baked beans behind me. I'd live. With open windows.
'Thank fuck he's gone.'
'Aye, a dick.'
'Thinks he's the big I am. More like a big knob. Not in a good way. A big flaccid knob.'
'Gordon.'
'Of course. Who else?'
'No, I mean Gordon... he's behind you.'
'No he isn't.'
'Oh yes he is.'
'Shit, my life's a fuckin' pantomime.'
The week by the Borneo jungle was beautiful. The food impeccable. Wild boar with the rice from the fields outside; picking the shot out of the meat. The pineapples; otherworldly. Lights off at 8pm with the generator. Reading by torchlight. No WiFi. No signal. Bliss.
I read yesterday that there was an App that could your read your mind. I dismissed it as nonsense until last night I took a delivery of chicken pakoras, chicken jalfrezi and garlic naan BEFORE I'd rung my order through. Spooky shit!
Mildred and Milicent the magnificent moo cows, spooked by Beau the bow legged beagle, shivered and slithered, hither and thither, till sensationally skating the ice 'cross the river.
Now I've just got to decide which one to use as the base for a Seedling Challenge story. Decisions, decisions.
The children were separated from their parents, who stood outside in fear. Forced into the toy emporium with their contactless credit cards it was an epic free for all. Two children were packed off that night never to be seen again. Probably in a Lego grave right now.
'Dad, I'm scared.'
'I know, son. It's terrifying, but stick with me and we'll get out of here.'
'Promise?'
'Of course. I should never have brought you here. Deep breath, keep close to the wall and follow me.'
Eventually they made it out of the Trafford Centre alive.
Five days before Brexit and London was a mess. The press had stoked the fear factor up to 11 and half the shops were shut and boarded up; the shelves bare. I looked down on the crazy town comforted by the walls of tinned baked beans behind me. I'd live. With open windows.
'Thank fuck he's gone.'
'Aye, a dick.'
'Thinks he's the big I am. More like a big knob. Not in a good way. A big flaccid knob.'
'Gordon.'
'Of course. Who else?'
'No, I mean Gordon... he's behind you.'
'No he isn't.'
'Oh yes he is.'
'Shit, my life's a fuckin' pantomime.'
The week by the Borneo jungle was beautiful. The food impeccable. Wild boar with the rice from the fields outside; picking the shot out of the meat. The pineapples; otherworldly. Lights off at 8pm with the generator. Reading by torchlight. No WiFi. No signal. Bliss.
I read yesterday that there was an App that could your read your mind. I dismissed it as nonsense until last night I took a delivery of chicken pakoras, chicken jalfrezi and garlic naan BEFORE I'd rung my order through. Spooky shit!
Mildred and Milicent the magnificent moo cows, spooked by Beau the bow legged beagle, shivered and slithered, hither and thither, till sensationally skating the ice 'cross the river.
Now I've just got to decide which one to use as the base for a Seedling Challenge story. Decisions, decisions.
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