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!
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.