Creative Prompt, 10.26.22
Creative Prompt, 10.26.22
The dinner party of your dreams.
Hi everyone —
In case you missed it, on Monday I shared a simple technique that might bring your writing to a new level of weirdness — I hope you’ll try it out:
And be sure to check out the responses to the last creative prompt — ‘The Drawer You Never Open.’
My neighbors take their halloween decorating very seriously and it’s gotten spooky as hell outside. The below prompt was directly inspired by a scene on a nearby stoop.
As always, the prompt is entirely open to your interpretation — you can follow it as closely or as loosely as you want, using your creative medium of choice.
Scroll down for the prompt…
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I suggest waiting until you’re ready to create — the less time to overthink it, the better…
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It’s just below here, time to head into Airplane Mode…
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Share your response by leaving a comment, or just let me know it sparked something in you by hitting the ‘heart’ button at the bottom of the email.
Images and other file types can be shared in the comments by link.
Questions? Comments? Feel free to drop me a line.
Until next time,
Jasper
“All dinners are dinners with the dead,” said the boy, “if you really think about it.”
“Boy,” said the father, “I’ve asked you to stop saying such things.”
“You’re dead,” said the boy, “I’m dead. Grover’s dead.”
“Grover ain’t dead,” said the father, “He’s out playing with the neighbor’s dog.”
“Mommy’s dead,” said the boy.
His father scraped mashed potatoes onto his plate.
“Mommy’s dead mommy’s dead!” sang the boy.
“Mommy ain’t dead!” shouted the father. “Mommy’s at her bible reading group, like I told you.”
“And you and me?” said the boy. “We’re dead too.”
The father stood up, his face red. “Boy!” he shouted. “You stop saying that!”
The father left the dinner table and walked out the front door. The boy ran over to the window and peeked out and watched his father fall ten thousand hundred million thousand miles, back to earth.
Like clockwork, the fat angel on a cloud reeled the father back in and dropped him off at the doorstep. The boy opened the door.
“Hi daddy!” he shouted.
The father walked straight past the boy, through the dining room, into the living room.
He picked up the telephone and dialed the mother’s number as the boy watched.
A deafening shrieking sound came through the phone and black spirits billowed out of it.
“Sheryl!” shouted the father. “Sheryl is that you?”
The phone shook as a deep, guttural growl began to emerge from the shrieks.
The father slammed the phone down. The boy ran to the freezer and came back with an ice pack. He held it up to his father’s face where the phone had been.
15 min
Fahim was murdered in his home by his executive assistant, who found a subreddit about how to disassemble a body with a buzz saw and remove the evidence with a shop vac. He nearly got away with it, except for the credit card receipts from Home Depot and cctv video of the assault in the elevator. Fahim was my best friend
Frank had an aggressive cancer that was responding to chemotherapy, until COVID wrecked his lungs and he was hospitalized and intubated and faded slowly into the mist. Frank was my Dads best friend
Yet here they both were, sitting with me at a small table at the giant dim sum restaurant on Elizabeth Street that closed 5 years ago. They are as they always were, bursts of energy, talking over one another and sharing crazy stories of what it was like to build, run, defend, and grow empires.
It feels like one of those mysterious dreams that I wake from sobbing and longing for the moment to continue, but this time the shrimp shu mai are actually super hot and I scald my mouth in disbelief.
“And then the fucker threatens to sue me for violating the reps and warranties, as if I hadn’t already disclosed what he was getting himself into!”
I’m stunned, but try to stay present. I know this can’t be real, but every moment with them is a blessing I never thought I’d have
“So tell me, guys, what are you most proud of, and what brings you the most shame? If you had to do it all over again, what would you do differently?”
“I’d order more of the bbq pork buns, that’s for damn sure”
“Absolutely. But the waiters here come around once in fucking Chinese New Year and it’s always the chicken feet and rice porridge”