Creative Prompt, 11.23.22
Creative Prompt, 11.23.22
A cornucopia of discomfort.
Feel free to skip all this blather and scroll straight to the prompt down below, and be sure to check out the responses to the last prompt, An Alternate Ending to your Childhood.
Hi — hope everyone’s wrapping things up for the week and getting into Thanksgiving mode. The holidays, of course, are a time to take off from work, and to spend time doing things you love. That in mind, my creative habit typically goes in one of two ways:
Good Outcome: I’m enjoying what I’m writing about —> writing doesn’t feel like work —> happily spend time writing through the holidays —> head back into ‘real life’ with a strengthened creative habit.
Bad Outcome: I’m not enjoying what I’m writing about —> writing feels like work —> holidays are a time to take off from writing —> head back into ‘real life’ with a diminished creative habit.
The key to this equation is to keep writing fun, and the most surefire way for me to do that is to keep it irreverent and low stakes — that’s exactly what these prompts are supposed to be for. My PFTV writing sprints serve as creative exercise to better prepare me for the other, more taxing (and often less fun) writing that I do in my life.
I hope these prompts are serving a similar purpose for you. Please do let me know.
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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(Painting by Jan Mecklenburg)
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Until next time,
Jasper
An unwelcome guest in his own home, is how he felt, when he came home from work each day. His wife no longer acknowledged his arrival. She still did the cooking but she’d already eaten by the time he walked in the door, as had his daughter who’d locked herself in the bedroom for the night. The dog still said hello but he swore he sensed a distance.
He racked his brain to try to understand what he’d done wrong. Perhaps it was the affair he’d had with the usher at the church. She was fifteen years older than him but there was something very sexy about the way she brought him and his family to their seats. His wife had found out about it along with the rest of the church. The usher told another usher who told another and soon enough it may as well have been in Sunday sermon.
She kicked him out of the house but gradually he earned his way back in.
Maybe it was the fact that he’d criticized her cooking in front of all of their friends and family on Thanksgiving. You didn’t tell me you found the driest turkey in the Mojave! he’d joked as the guests took their first bites of the food. She wept into her pillow that night.
He’d canceled her credit cards that very same day in preparation for Black Friday. His wife and daughter came home that afternoon with looks of shame on their faces. You humiliated me, his daughter said, all my friends were there, it was the sale of the year. I’m a big joke now.
He’d shrugged his shoulders. His daughter would need to learn that you can’t buy your way into popularity.
And so he went about his business, assuming his wife and daughter would find their own ways out of the funks they were in. This expectation is what made it so all the more surprising when he came home to an empty home one evening after work. A note on the fridge said Left with Joey, Sarah is with my mother. Don’t come looking. For either of us.
Joey the mechanic, he wondered? He didn’t know any other Joeys in their life. But Joey didn’t have any money, and he lived in one of those dumpy houses by the train tracks.
He drove down to the rail to look for her. From a distance he saw their silhouettes on a park bench. He approached them from behind and called out for his wife. She didn’t budge but Joey stood up. He was holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a tire iron in the other. One more step, he said, and I’ll knock your teeth out.
With what? he said. The tire iron or the flowers?
The tire iron, Joey said.
He certainly didn’t want that, so he shrugged, got back in his car, and drove home. He found a frozen dinner in the freezer and ate in front of the TV.
Janice knew her symptoms weren't normal and she needed to book an appointment with Dr. Krebs, but when!? Between dropping the girls off at gymnastics, picking up her husband’s family at the airport, and waiting in line at Safeway to purchase the final ingredients she had forgotten yesterday (cool whip, almond extract for the coffee cake, and a big bottle of Aspirin for the splitting headache she’d had the last two weeks), there was little time to focus on her health. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered under her breath, “Does anyone know how to use the self-checkout??” Sweaty and barely able to keep the irrational anger she was feeling tamped down, she managed to scan her items, pay, and fly out of the store before her head began to pound. Coming on like the beat of a distant drum, it wasn’t very painful, just intense and overwhelming. Janice fumbled her keys and launched into the minivan. “Keep it together, just keep it together…. you have everything you need for the perfect Thanksgiving, keep it together Janice!” Breathing deeply and letting the icy vehicle numb her slightly, her heart rate slowed and she felt safe enough to drive. Sitting up straighter, she looked into the rear-view mirror and screamed aloud at the glimpse of a shadowy figure. She whirled around and saw no one. Spooked and wondering if she was losing it, she got out and opened the back of the van with her keys like wolverine claws to take down any potential assailant. Empty. “I am going insane,” Janice thought as she climbed back into the driver’s seat and reversed out of the parking lot. She was able to pick up the girls without incident and made it home in time to be asked “What’s for dinner” by her husband and be blessedly ignored by the collection of in-laws in her family room. She bit back annoyance and replied that there was bread and lunch meat for sandwiches, but he was already heading back to the dim-witted police drama playing at top volume on the giant flat screen TV. Janice felt the pounding and the heat start up again. “I’m going to head upstairs and lay down for a bit,” she announced to no one apparently, and trudged up the stairs. She made it to the bed just as the pounding and pressure seemed to intensify. A sharp burning pain began to form in the center of her forehead and she felt like she was possibly having a stroke. Fumbling for her phone in a panic she hesitated as soon as she found it. “Will I ruin Thanksgiving if I call 911?” At that thought, the pain and pressure moved down from her head to her throat. She gagged and strained as something huge demanded to come out. She ran for the bathroom and painfully heaved out a huge mass. Eyes streaming and face burning she looked down to see a human figure lying under her. Janice scuttled back in horror and stared at the full-sized human she had just seemingly vomited. “What the faaa…” was all she could muster before the figure sat up smiling. “Whew, I thought I was never gonna come outta there! Did you seriously consider NOT calling 911 because you thought you’d ‘ruin Thanksgiving’ for those a-holes?!” Janice was speechless from the shock and realization that the figure in front of her was a younger version of her aunt, gone now over 30 years, but somehow here, incredulous on her bathroom floor. “They probably still think the pilgrims and the indigenous tribes were besties, and Christopher Columbus was an intrepid explorer and all that bull. On the other side we know his karma and let me tell you, he's been a cane toad, a cockroach, and other nasties and he still hasn’t learned his lesson! Janice? Janice hon? I can see you are confused but I’ve only got a little while to be here so let’s get you a glass of water and some chapstick and see why the heck you called me here.” All Janice could think to say in the moment was, “But, I didn’t call you,” even though she had about a million indignant questions. “Well yeah, of course you didn’t call me hon, corpses don’t have cell phones. Your soul called me. Well it called for help anyway, and I, your loving aunt Augusta, answered the call.”
“You can’t be here,” Janice mumbled, “My in-laws, Josh, Thanksgiving…” she trailed off. Janice popped up and raced downstairs to see if she was actually in some fever dream or a coma. The cop drama had changed over to a legal drama and everyone was scarfing sandwiches in the blue glow of the TV. “Josh…can you come here for a sec?” Janice squeaked out. He ignored her or couldn’t hear over the TV, so she started to enter and froze when she saw aunt Augusta, walking in with one of Josh’s private DVD’s in her hand, heading towards the entertainment center. “What are you doing!!?” she screeched, and everyone’s head snapped in her direction. “Watching Law and Order Janice, what is your problem?” Josh barked back. Augusta was still trying to get the DVD into the player as Janice frantically motioned for her to come in to the kitchen. Augusta sighed and reluctantly obeyed. “Where did you even find that and what in the world are you doing??” Janice hissed. “I thought it might be a good conversation starter for Josh and his family since they hate same sex marriage so much, but all appear to enjoy this genre of shall we say, entertainment.” Janice looked down and saw that Augusta was holding Josh’s copy of “Summer Camp Babes on Babes: 3” and quickly snatched it away. “They all have similar titles in their collections, so I thought it might be a fun bonding thing,” Augusta said innocently. “You knew it would be no such thing and it would have humiliated Josh for heaven’s sake; it’s Thanksgiving!” Janice snapped. “Plus they might have already seen you and are going to have so many questions I just don’t even have time for. I have to start the pies and get everything ready for breakfast, and do just about 8 million other things!” “I’m here to help, and they can’t see me anyway. I’m here for you, Janice.” “Well trying to show my husband’s porn to his family and bursting out of my brain is not helping, but thank god they can’t see you. Well, can you at least help me make the pies?” Janice was actually starting to regain her mental balance and settle into the rhythm of cooking when she smelled something odd…. “Augusta! Put that out, oh my god!” “Sorry hon, I thought this might help you relax. I found it in Josh’s brother’s bag, along with the rattiest damn pair of briefs I have ever seen.” “Augusta, you cannot smoke pot in my kitchen!” Janice said, incandescent with rage. “I’m not gonna smoke it, it’s for you - your shoulders are in your earlobes hon, you need to chill.”
“Are you done helping me yet Augusta, because I can’t take much more. I still have to assemble the egg casserole and make his mother-in-law’s great-aunt’s coffee cake! It’s not Thanksgiving without Enid’s coffee cake!!!” “Who is Enid and why do you like her coffee cake so much?” Augusta laughed. “I hate that coffee cake but Josh’s family has had it at Thanksgiving for 87 years; it’s tradition.” Janice said gravely. Augusta nodded and proceeded to assist in the kitchen until well after 1 in the morning. Janice woke to her alarm at 7 and prayed that yesterday was a wild nightmare. Unfortunately, she came down to the kitchen to find Augusta putting the coffee cake in the oven then presenting her with a cup of tea. “Now this is helping Augusta, thank you.” “No problem hon,” Augusta said with a wink. Janice and Augusta chatted while the coffee was brewing and breakfast was heating up. “Oh my god it’s 8:42!!!" She suddenly shrieked. “What happens at 8:42?!" August gasped sarcastically. “I was supposed to have gotten the turkey in the roasting pan by 8:25 and have the rosemary braid around it by 8:35! Hurry up and get the coffee cake and casserole on the table, with the coffee please Augusta, so that I can maybe salvage this whole day!” Augusta did as she asked and the whole family emerged wordlessly and dug into the breakfast. “Janice, the coffee cake tastes different, did you follow the recipe?” Josh’s mom asked coldly. Janice came into the dining room to assure everyone she followed the recipe like she did every year, and returned to the kitchen, fuming. “They’ve eaten the entire coffee cake, but say it tasted funny; Augusta, what did you do?!” “Oh yeah hon, I added that powder stuff your mother-in-law was going to give you as an early Christmas present. It says it’s full of powerfully fast colon cleansers to help you lose 10-20 unwanted pounds. She also had some other weight-loss pills for you but I thought the powder would be easier to add. I poured the whole shebang into the batter since she seems to be so passionate about clean colons and weight-loss for her loved ones. I hope you know you look just as lovely as ever hon, you’re…” Augusta couldn’t even finish her compliment before the first long, loud eruption echoed around the dining room. “I have a feeling you don’t need to worry about that rosemary braid Janice, maybe just how much toilet paper you have on hand.” Chairs scraped violently across the perfectly polished floor as Janice, at first furious, began to laugh; harder than she had in decades. As her in-laws and husband began to stampede towards the only two bathrooms in the house, she saw Augusta fade like an evaporating mist. “That’s more like it hon.” Janice was still laughing when her daughters wandered downstairs and blearily asked “Why is Nana crying and moaning in the laundry sink and WHAT is so funny mom!?”