Tag: Silly

The Great Wall of Trump

For six seconds, the entire world was silent. Not a single person dared to breathe.

In Washington, D.C., the announcer stared at the results, aghast. It was true. “Trump,” he repeated. “Donald – Donald J. Trump is the forty-fifth President of the United States of America.”

Thousands of millions of people stared at their television screens, feeling numb. In Ohio, somebody started crying. Continue reading “The Great Wall of Trump”

Dude, Where’s My Batmobile?

On the midnight streets of Gotham City, at the corner of Badger Boulevard and Olsen Street, just outside of Gotham City Hall, were two men. One stood ramrod straight, glancing up and down the street as if he was looking for something. The other man, piled on the ground and bound at the wrists and ankles, was cackling, his too-wide mouth showing too many teeth.

“Oh!” the bound man laughed. “Oh, this is rich! Absolutely, utterly, filthy rich!” He kept cackling, slamming his head on the ground in his mirth. “So rich it makes Bruce Wayne look like a pauper! Batman, the Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight of Gotham, can’t remember where he parked!” Continue reading “Dude, Where’s My Batmobile?”

Reddit Writing Prompt #23: The Rise Of President Threkids

The year is 2024 and three children in a trench coat have taken office, but no one can tell that they are kids. –ThatFuzzySalmon

There’s something about this man, thought Secret Service Agent Jacob Miles, as he followed the newly-elected President of the United States through the halls of the White House. Something… different.

President Threkids was a tall man, with the boyish face of a twelve-year-old, with a thick handlebar mustache growing on his upper lip that had the strange tendency to slip to the side every so often. He walked with a strange gait, as if he had incredibly short legs. That might have explained why he always wore that trench coat: he was embarrassed about his strange deformity, and so he hid it from the world.

He had taken the country by storm, though nobody knew precisely where he had come from. His first public appearance was in a political debate between candidates for the office of the Mayor, which was hosted in a small movie theater because the usual venue was being fumigated. Threkids had walked into the theater, his confident waddle making it clear where he belonged, even if he looked a bit confused.

The man exuded charisma, and was talked into participating in the debate. Threkids was a humble man, repeatedly stating that he was only here to watch the reboot of “Texas Chainsaw Massacre”, and that he was most definitely an adult, yes.

Continue reading “Reddit Writing Prompt #23: The Rise Of President Threkids”

Reddit Writing Prompt #18: The Prank Wars

In the future, the nations of Earth have settled into a lengthy peace. The military forces of the world grow bored. A covert task force is set by one country up to pull an elaborate, harmless prank on their friendliest ally. Things escalate. Write a story about the ‘Prank Wars’. – charliewr

The airplane zoomed through the sky, the wind from the open door blasting against Captain Sterr as he watched the world far below. Miles below his feet, the continent of Asia was lit against the night by countless cities and countless lives. His heart pattered in his chest; he’d done parachute drops before, but never from this high.

“Approaching drop point!” the pilot announced. “ETA two minutes!”

“Copy!” Sterr responded, checking his gear one last time. Black combat gear, check. Parachute, check. Spray paint, check. Cyanide pill, check. This would be the biggest day – er, night – of his military career.

The timer reached zero, and Sterr launched himself out of the plane.

Five miles, straight down.

Sterr was very glad he wasn’t afraid of heights.

When he had dropped far enough, he yanked on the parachute cord, and the pitch black silk billowed out behind him, arresting his descent with a heart-wrenching jerk. He was also very glad he hadn’t eaten anything before this. Sterr drifted to the ground, far outside the reach of any stabbing searchlights. It would be a ten mile hike through the mountains, dodging patrols, until he reached his target.

Upon landing, he cut himself loose of his parachute, checked his gear one last time, and hurried off into the night, unseen.

His feet chewed up the ten miles in no time at all – or at least it felt that way – and Sterr’s ultimate destination was in view. The Great Wall of China. Maybe not visible from space, but still impressive. Sterr had been given a history of the wall during his debriefing, but he didn’t think it was very important.

Small packs of armed guards patrolled the top of the wall, peering down the sides with flashlights. Monument security had become paramount across the world, after an unidentified nation somehow managed to turn the Statue of Liberty’s torch upside-down without being noticed. The Prank Wars were dark days indeed.

Sterr waited for a gap in the patrols and raced forwards, hugging the wall. He would only have one shot at this. He shook the can of spray paint, and prepared to perform tactical vandalism.

He pushed the button, and moved the can in a horizontal line to draw the beginning of the ‘KILROY WAS HERE’ mark, but what came out of the can wasn’t bright orange paint, as he had expected.

Instead, it was the piercing sound of an airhorn.

Every guard on a ten-mile stretch of the wall heard the horn, and with electronic communications, all the guards out of earshot were made aware seconds after that. Sterr dropped the fake spray paint, holding his ears and howling at the unexpected noise.

Betrayed! Somebody – a spy – had swapped his mission equipment for a fake! An airhorn disguised as a spray paint canister! Bastards!

From on top of the wall, flashlights pierced the darkness to illuminate him, and a guard yelled something in Mandarin. Presumably ‘don’t move or I’ll shoot’. Sterr immediately swallowed the cyanide pill, and was curious why nobody told him that cyanide tasted just like sugar. Sterr put his hands above his head, knowing he would be punished for his failure. When the guards arrived and pinned him to the ground, he caught sight of something etched on the bottom of the fake spray paint can.

It was a maple leaf.

Reddit Writing Prompt #16: Fish and Throats

You choke on a fish bone and die. You are transported to Heaven where you must live with the fish you were eating for the rest of eternity. – COMPTON4LIFE

The pearly gates of Heaven stood silently behind Saint Peter as he leaned over the podium to look at the man on his knees, clutching at his throat and making horrific choking noises. “Are you alright, mister…” He checked his list. “Peter Happman. Nice name.”

Peter Happman opened his mouth to try and speak, giving Saint Peter a good luck at what was caught in his throat, staring out at him and just as surprised as both Peters.

“A fish?” Saint Peter said, disbelieving. He checked the list for cause-of-death. Peter Happman, age twenty-nine, cause of death: choking on a bone in his salmon fillet.

Continue reading “Reddit Writing Prompt #16: Fish and Throats”

Reddit Writing Prompt #15: I Can’t Think Of A Title Right Now But It’ll Come To Me Later

You wake up to find you can communicate with electronics. –istillscarekids


I blearily lift my head to look around the room. “Whozzat?” I mumble, convinced I must still be half asleep.

“WHO IS HE TALKING TO?!” that artificial voice screams.

“Iiiii dooooon’t knoooooow,” says a voice from up above, for some reason reminding me of screaming riders at that big spinny thing with the swings at the fair.

It’s seven in the morning. I’m tired.

I look up to see who is talking, but all I can see is the ceiling fan, whirling and stirring the air in the room.

“DO YOU THINK HE WAS TALKING TO-” Acting on reflex, I reach over and silence my alarm clock, and the yelling cuts off.

Continue reading “Reddit Writing Prompt #15: I Can’t Think Of A Title Right Now But It’ll Come To Me Later”

Reddit Writing Prompt #4: I Don’t Even Know, Man

Only a time traveling Adolf Hitler dressed as Batman can unravel the dark and mysterious secret behind the numbers that appeared over everyone’s heads at Hogwarts. – FlahOwl

Madame Pomfrey peeled back the eyelid of the first year who had been carefully dropped on the bed. The pupil’s pupil rolled around, as if it was looking around the room, but the vacant expression on the boy’s face showed that he was more than likely just unconscious. “Alright,” she said tiredly. “What happened?”

“The stupid boy tried to make a potion using a Muggle nursery rhyme as the recipe, I suspect,” Professor Snape said, staring disdainfully down his hooked nose at the student. “Newt eyes, frog toes, bat wool, dog tongues, boiled and then simmered until bubbling.”

“Oh, dear,” Madame Pomfrey said.

“I don’t know if I should warn the muggleborn students not to try it, or let the fools find out for themselves,” Snape sneered. “If you don’t mind, I must return to my class, to make sure that none of the other students have attempted to poison themselves in the five minutes I’ve been gone.”

Madame Pomfrey nodded as the potions master left the infirmary. She took her wand (nine and three quarter inches, oak, unicorn hair) from the tiny pocket sewn into her apron for just that purpose, and with a flick of her wrist, said “Accio smelling salts.”

There was a clatter as the small bag of salts zipped across the room to land in Madame Pomfrey’s hand. Holding her breath, she opened the bag and waved it under the student’s nose, to no effect. Again, a bit closer to the nostrils, and again, nothing.

Poppy Pomfrey sighed and shoved the opening of the bag directly at the student’s nose. The effects were immediate.

Ich bin die nacht!” the student shouted, sitting up like a jack-in-the-box and flailing his arms like the Whomping Willow. His swinging arms swatted Pomfrey’s nurse’s cap off her head, but thankfully did not harm her. The student quickly came to his senses, looking around the hospital wing with the displaced confusion of a boy who, to his knowledge, had just a second previously taken a sip of a strange concoction which tasted like applesauce (for some reason).

“Feeling better?” Madame Pomfrey asked.

The student blinked at her, anchoring himself in reality. “I just dreamed that I was Adolf Hitler dressed up as Batman, and that I’d traveled through time to find out why there were numbers over people’s heads,” he said in one breath.

Only one of those concepts made anything resembling sense to Madame Pomfrey. “I think perhaps you’d better take a nap,” Pomfrey suggested.

“I think I better had,” the student agreed, and then passed out.

There’s one every year, Madame Pomfrey thought to herself.

I don’t even know, man. This one was weird.

And Now For Something Completely Different

Finally ending a very long stretch of no submissions, I offer a thing that is almost totally dissimilar to my previous postings. Something visual rather than literary. I made these images in a Photoshop class, and turned them in as my semester portfolio. It’s a very good class, with many clever, artistic students. Sadly, I am not one of them. Most (all) of these are, as you can see, exceptionally silly. Enjoy.