Dawn of the Dead Agency Presents the Summer Story Competition!
Summer is in full swing, one and all! In honor of this long-awaited time of year, and the slow but steady revival of our beloved community, Dawn of the Dead Agency is putting forth a Summer Story Competition! Much like the Holiday Writing Competition Wish Upon a Star sponsored in 2009, our entrants must adhere to a simple set of rules for their entry to be considered by our dishonorable judges, otherwise known as the zombies of the beloved Dawn of the Dead Agency. The rules are as follows!
1. The story must have a summertime theme. This is a broad spectrum, involving anything one might do on summer vacation or a nice summers day.
2. Entries MUST USE- I repeat MUST USE, all of the listed elements somewhere in their story, although no particular order is required.
The elements are as follows:
-A red kazzo
-a comically large margarita
-an underinflated beach ball
-a blue checkered picnic blanket
-a brilliant display of fireworks
-a very sunburned uncle
-sand between your toes
-a pirate in a hawaiian shirt
-a parrot that only sings medleys of Cher songs
-a fanny pack
-a mysteriously abandoned bikini top
-a sinister volleyball
-a bottle of Maui Babe suntan lotion
*Once again, you must use all of these items somewhere in your story, wherever and however you see fit.
3. Entries have a 2 post limit (about 4000 characters).
4. Prize will be a special custom item selected by Dawn of the Dead!
5. Have fun with it!
We hope to see a lot of entries from our sleuth community! The contest will run until Saturday, July 14th at which point our agency will begin judging entries!
Happy writing, all!
You cant guess Nic? Haha i know who it is.
I know who this is
Gopher to the Sleuth Gods
Well done everyone especially Vulkie considering that English is not her mother tongue. Shows spunk and determination on her part :-)
Casey was trying to convince herself to get up after relaxing in her hammock when her sister Amy marched up looking angry.
"You owe me a new ball!" she proclaimed holding up an under inflated beach ball.
"Why do I owe you a new beach ball because yours is under inflated?" Casey wanted to know.
"Because it's your cat's fault. She clawed my ball, and now it has a slow leak."
"All right, I'll replace your ball," Casey said, "but not now. Right now I have to head over the beach for the volleyball game with my friends. She pulled herself out of the hammock, grabbed the bag with her beach gear, and headed for her car.
Thirty minutes later Casey had arrived at the beach. She went into a changing room and put on her bathing suit. As she exited the changing booth she stepped on something and looked down to see what it was. It was a bikini top. Since Casey was the only one around, the bikini top appeared to have been mysteriously abandoned. She ignored it and continued walking down the beach, smiling as she felt the sand between her toes. Further down the beach Casey spotted a woman carrying three coconuts. The woman brought her coconuts over to large blue checkered picnic basket and put them inside. Casey found the woman's behavior odd, but she decided it didn't matter and continued walking to meet her friends.
As Casey got closer and could see her friends practicing. She also saw a volleyball with what appeared to be a face drawn on it sitting on a towel. She approached her friend Laura and asked about the ball with the face.
"That's my fault," Laura told her. "I watched 'Cast Away' last night, and I wanted to draw a face on my volleyball like the movie's Wilson. It was supposed to be a friendly, happy face, but I'm no artist, and it turned out rather..." she trailed off at a loss for words.
"Sinister?" suggested Casey.
Laura nodded. "Yes, that's it. Sinister. It's a very sinister volleyball."
Casey put the volleyball out of her mind so she could get ready for the match. She got out her Maui Babe suntan lotion. Her friends always laughed at the name, but Casey didn't care.
Casey spotted her uncle in the crowd. He looked terrible as he was very badly sunburned. He also looked bad because he was wearing a fanny pack.
She put all extra thoughts out of her head and concentrated on the game. It paid off. Her team won. To celebrate they all went to a new restaurant called "The Pirate's Nest."
Upon entering a man dressed in a Hawaiian shirt with a beard, eye patch, and pirate hat greeted them. He also had a parrot on his shoulder. "I'm Pirate Pete," he said. "I'll show you to your table."
"You're a pirate?" asked Casey.
"Of course!" he replied. "Don't you see my beard, eye patch, and pirate hat?"
"Yes, but I also see your Hawaiian shirt."
"There's no rule that pirates can't wear Hawaiian shirts, and I like them!" Pete replied defensively.
"If you're a pirate, why are you working at this restaurant?" Laura wanted to know.
Pete shrugged. "Being a pirate isn't as good a way to make a living as it used to be. This is for extra money."
Laura looked surprised at his explanation but nodded. Then Casey had a question. "Is your parrot singing a medley of Cher songs?"
Pete sighed. "Yes, he is. The previous owner was a huge Cher fan, and the parrot picked up the songs. I tried to break him of it, but it didn't work. It's not all bad though. Sometimes I accompany him." Pete pulled out a red kazoo and started playing.
Casey and her friends got to their table and looked at the drink menu. Casey asked, "How big do you think a 'comically large margarita' is?". The others shrugged.
"Order one and find out," suggested Laura.
Casey considered but shook her head. "No, I have to drive home tonight. I'll get a regular size drink." Later, as they left the restaurant they saw a brilliant display of fireworks. Casey thought it had been a very good day.
Okay, I *literally* laughed out loud at "sometimes I accompany him". Great story!
Keep them comin' people!
The following is just for fun and not an entry :)
Now down at the beach, I've never had luck,
Most times it's just me and the ocean,
The closest I'd get to a 'Maui babe' came
On the front of bottle of lotion.
But I once had to stop, for a 'small 'kini top,
that I found all alone in the sand,
And since I had a history for solving a mystery,
This kind of played into my hands.
So I sat 'neath a tree, drank coconuts - three,
and waited with patience and guile,
and a girl finally came from the sea looking shamed,
but that only lasted a while.
Now her name I confess, that I've drawn blank.
It might have been susan or rita?
We went to a party - a masque - and we drank,
from a comically large margherita.
A brilliant display of fireworks filled
the sky, and we chatted 'bout life.
And she told me a story, nor risque or gory,
Just how love often cuts like a knife.
So we settled down under a blue checkered blanket
I pinched from a picnic nearby,
And we went through the throes, you know how it goes,
And she talked and she laughed and she cried.
And once she had finished, we stopped and we smoked,
(Her fanny pack held cheap cigars),
Yes the sand 'tween our toes grew cold as we 'sposed,
at the meaning held there in the stars.
She said life was unfair, you're never prepared,
It's like teaching a parrot to sing,
You want Pavarotti, you'd settle for Elvis,
But you end up with Cher or with Sting.
Now morals are things often false more than true,
But I think on her words to this day,
She said "a red kazoo can leave you quite blue
if blown in an improper way."
Now that in itself doesn't make that much sense,
But it got me to thinking 'bout things,
How life's like a hammock, not tight at the ends,
You can drag on the ground, and not swing.
Yes, life can be awkward and not seem quite right,
And you wonder just where is the charm,
But like a sinister volleyball thrown with some spite
it's intentions, not actions, that harm.
So like an old pirate dressed in a Hawaiin shirt
You determine your own sense of self,
And you don't need cosmetics, like peglegs and hooks,
you can store them away on the shelf.
An uncle of mine who'd caught too much sun,
Once spoke about this very fact,
He said "life's like a beach ball that doesn't quite bounce,
Most times it just needs to be patched."
And that is my story, believe it or not,
Oh, I know it's disjointed and lame,
But it feels quite cathartic to mess round with rhyme.
PS I've even published it under my name.
HOW CAN THAT NOT BE AN ENTRY, haha! That was absolutely brilliant!
HAHAHA! That was incredible, SS! :D Brilliant.
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