Just Add Prompt

Whoever said words can’t hurt you has never been pegged with a dictionary.

Sara was drawn to the child’s tears. She knew that kind of crying, having done a lifetime of it herself.

“Something the matter, dear?”

“…go ‘way.”

Sara knelt. “I promise I won’t tell you that you’re overreacting if you promise not to tell me I can’t understand.”

The kid looked up. “…kay.” Tears smeared her face. “They said I’m fat an’ I gotta eat nuthin’ but chocolate 'cause I’m that colour anyway an’ I tried to tell on 'em but… m’ teacher said it was just words.”

“Hm. Anyone who says words can’t hurt you has never been smacked by a dictionary.”

A shy, wan smile lit her face. “Not 'lowed to hit 'em.”

“More’s the pity,” agreed Sara. “You have to hit them where it hurts them the most. In their egos.”

“What’s an ego?”

“It’s that part of your brain that keeps telling you that you are the sole reason the universe exists.”

This time, a giggle. Anyone telling this darling little girl that she was ugly aught to be strung up by their nether hairs.

“I’m guessing these are the mean girls of the school? Already proficient at makeup and fashion at -what- eight?”

“Nine.”

“Oof.” Sara shook her head. “Let me tell you a little something about mean girls…”

*

Sara was just about to sign out from her volunteer duties when she spotted Shanice again. Holding an ice-pack over one eye.

“You didn’t start a fight, did you?”

Shanice grinned. “Nope. They did.”

Which meant the mean girls hit first. Which meant that Shanice had won. Sara grinned and gave her a high five. “Good job. Pro tip, try not to look so smug. Act like a kitten is very sick. Makes you look like the wronged party.”

Shanice nodded and did her best to snivel.

[Muse food remaining: 5. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]

RAF WWII slang: Exdigitate - get your finger out.

(#00113)

There are days when it was fun and exciting to be married to a genius. This was not shaping up to be one of them.

“Come along, darling, you need breakfast.”

Todd opened an eye. There was bacon and eggs and -sweet heaven, thank you- coffee gently steaming on his bedside table. “Mrghl…”

“Exdigitate, dear.”

“Mnnnh…”

Sara dragged him upright and gently

“If at first you don’t succeed, label it version 1.0.”

“Fuck this fucking thing to fucking fuck!”

“Problems?”

“Why did we release this stupid piece of shit?”

Andrews peered over Laslie’s shoulder. “Oh. That. Budget overruns. Time under-runs. Figgis-fiddis. You name it, that one had it. I think we all ended up calling that one Project Icarus at the end.”

“Doomed to crash and burn?”

Anywhere in the story: “There is no font size big enough to describe the ‘oh shit’ that is about to occur.”

The body corporate had done it. They’d finally leashed the beast of their own making. They controlled the internet. And there wasn’t even time to celebrate.

“Now, we need to start talking about the three 'sisses’. Censorship, sponsorship, and shill. Every single page, every site, every last goddamn corner of the

Parent: [Character name]? How much uranium is in the house…?

Child: [after much dancing about about whether it’s uranium at all, and if so, how much] Okay, a lot…

“Jachyx…” came the warning call of Parental Prime. “How much uranium is in the house?”

Jachyx hid her work and emerged from her private space. “Who says I have any uranium?”

“Security detected fissionable material, grubling.”

Gah. She hated it

You’ll have to forgive my uncle, sir. He has a very unique sense of humor which involves not being funny.

Since she wasn’t riding horses, today’s costume was that of a paige. She was too tall and not chesty enough for the typical wench and the material still hadn’t come through for her chatelaine outfit, it was either a paige or a time traveller and people tended to be hostile to the latter.

Sara

    Old software engineering joke: “Write your code as if it’ll be read three months later by a homicidal psychotic who knows where you live.”

    Spoiler: You know where you live, and will have to read your code three months later, when you’ve forgotten what much of it does.

“Who the hell was the fucktard who wrote this goddamn ugly shitty mess of shitty shit fuck!”

The entire cubicle labyrinth prairie dogged their heads above

In days to come, he would reflect upon the premature nature of that thought. He would ponder it, as a sinner pondered the inexplicable actions of an irritated deity. He would wonder if perhaps, by allowing himself to think it, he had angered the God of Perversity, and Murphy, who is His Prophet. It was the only offense he could think of that might have explained what happened next.

(#000106)

He should never have asked, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Imperial China. They actually had royal dragon caretakers on the payroll. Logic says that this was due to them either having actual dragons (read: dinosaurs), or the Emperor had done off the deep end again. If they really did have dinosaurs they were almost certainly plant eaters … but that doesn’t allow us to imagine T-Rex cavalry fighting alongside stupidly large infantry armies, and that should be it’s own goal.

(#00105)

[AN: Given the nature of actual Chinese

At some point, someone (Sara? Somebody in your own setting?) defines Patience.

Patience, noun: the state of having too many witnesses.

(#00104)

“We reviewed the evidence and personal testimonies,” said the brown-robed Archivaas. “And we thought we might work with you to.. re-evaluate history’s view of Ernest Hackmeyer.”

“That plagiaristic bastard can go rot in fire,” Shayde said cheerily as she poured tea. “Is he goin’ from bafflin’ genius tae scum-suckin&

“Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.”

“That’s a scary quote from you, hon,” said Todd.

Sara, waist-deep in the workings of Cerebro, said, “Granted, it is problematic. Fortunately, my murderous tendencies remain confined in the socially acceptable forum of fiction. But it is rather apropos.”

Todd quickly put two and two together. “You mean this aint a

Asteroids: Nature’s way of asking “So, how’s that space program coming along?”

“What I don’t get is that we’ve had the technology for years but we’re all just sitting around and watching these rocks fly by.”

“Getting into space is expensive. And when you think about it, Earth’s the best defense against asteroids there is.”

“Shyeah. Tell that to the dinosaurs.”

“

When the end of the world came, it was in a form no-one had anticipated.

(#000101)

“And you’re sure this will initiate the -um- whatchamacallit.”

“Personal temporal stability field. Yes. One push of a button and I can live forever and never age.” Greedy fingers gently caressed the alligator switch. “My telomeres will be stable. I’ll continue to move forward in time, but time will have no effect on me. I won’

Write a story based on any part of this song. I recommend the cover by Michelle Dockrey and Tony Fabris (aka Vixy & Tony).

(Holy shit it’s #00100!)

Red alert was blaring, the Klingons were coming in hard and fast. Michael worked as hard as he could to get the coupling back together and effectively save the day. Which he did.

“And now my keyboard doesn’t work,” she complained.

“Hmn?” One blink, and he