Posts Tagged ‘writing absurdly’

CI Homage 17Apr09

April 17, 2009

Otto shook his head as he took stock of all the calamities invading his life over the past few months.

It seemed to him that the world was conspiring to make him as miserable as possible.

“I need a bit of karmic relief,” grumbled Otto.

And with the impeccable timing only they can have, the Fates laughed impishly in his face.

In walked Constance.

As eloquently and succinctly as he could muster, Otto muttered a simple, “Shit.”

CI Homage 20Feb09

February 19, 2009

Otto obstinately drew a line in the sand.

Not surprisingly, Constance stepped across that line.  And, as usual, did so with her typical sneer of presumed superiority in her impending obfuscation.

“Justify yourself!”, she screamed.

Otto complied grudgingly, spreading himself evenly across what he could only presume would be the last page of this chapter of his life.

Constance’ triumphant glare was cut short when a crashing wave of reality washed away the line in the sand…making the whole argument pointless.

Double Puntendre

February 13, 2009

Yes, of late I have been paying Friday homage to Mrs. B. and her slumbering “Column Inch“.

No, I will NOT count this as an homage.  Mostly because I suspect that it won’t be received well.  But it’s mine.  And I had fun coming up with it.  And, therefore, wanted to share.

But, consider yourself forewarned.  If you do not like random grammarama or poor punnage, stop reading now.


“Hello, transom!”, Constance faux pas’d nervously as Nick dropped through the skylight.  She had not defenestrated in over a month and suspected herself expectant.

Nick pondered the mullioned possible reasons for the gravid demeanor of Constance.  Staring Constance in the eyes, the windows of the soul, he guessed his first inclination true.  “Gestate the obvious,” Nick hissed.

“It panes me,” whispered Constance, “to tell you your dormer mate (who was delightfully double hung) recently palladian with my heart and body…. and I now find myself fecund to none.”

Nick, had every right to show his jalousie, but could not picture himself without her.  He surprisingly said, “Awning to the fact you are my wife, I forgive you.”

CI Homage 23Jan09

January 22, 2009

Floating down a stream of consciousness, Alice lazed idly in thoughtful waters.

With a circumspect hand, she lackadaisically stirred up the sediment of abandoned ideas which had settled to the bottom.

She watched the concepts swirl, entwining incestuously for brief affairs of hypothesis, only to withdraw again in solicitous self reverie.

Alice’s musings became nightmare as Nick, with a gratuitous shout of “Cowabunga!”, absent-mindedly cannonballed into her thoughts.

“Witless twit,” muttered Alice, drifting back to reality.

She blotted herself with happy notions and glided off to face the coming brainstorm.

CI Homage

January 8, 2009
I didn’t write down my New Year’s resolutions. Didn’t really make a list, per se, like you’re supposed to do. More like a mental mish-mash of stuff I’d like to accomplish in the coming year. One of these is to stretch my creativity–or absurdity–in thinking and writing.
Thus, this homage. Defined as: something that shows respect or attests to the worth or influence of another.  At least I hope it will be taken as homage.
I miss Mrs. Benitez and her weekly “Column Inch”. It was witty and bent your brain just a bit to grasp. We all need some of that in our lives. A twist to make us go “Baroo?” and stop seeing the world in the same old way.
I’ve no clue if Mrs. B. will be back. I hope so.  But I wanted one of those creative absurd things I try to be something along the lines of her posts. I can only hope one day to attain her skill and adept cacophony of verbage. I’ll get into my own rhythm and personalize it as time goes. But here is a humble first offering of “An Homage to the Column Inch” – – –

“Toss me the plunger,” pleaded Alice, knee deep in pensive thought, “I need to rehyphenate the toilet.”

Dusty rose from the faux fox settee, adjusted his bandana rakishly over his good eye, and attempted to glare at Otto, who was busily counting his half-pfennig collection.

“Silly twit,” Dusty thought dismissively, “Anyone knows you need a Fletcher’s Shaft to fix that leaky flapper.”