Silly Saturday - by Mark Hudson - "The Texan"

This piece needs a little introduction.  At a recent Prompt Group meeting, we played with a prompt from Ursula K. LeGuin called "No Punctuation."  The objective was to write a piece with absolutely no punctuation, from start to finish, as an exercise in understanding the role of grammar in our writing.  Her recommendation, if you can't think of something to write for the prompt, is to pick something with action such as the beginning of a battle or the first day of a large sale.

Mark Hudson, one of our regulars, read this poetic piece of alliteration and we roared by the end of it.  As you read it, try reading it out loud:  it'll make a real difference.  He added a few periods and commas, but we'll let him get away with it - you'll understand when you read it.  Awesome job, Mark!

I hope you enjoy! -A. Catherine Noon

"The Texan"
by Mark Hudson

The landlord told me that I had to get out the Texans were taking over the country and turning America into a giant Texas Tex the Texan was textin’ while I was reading a textbook, telling me to turn in the keys to his totalitarian tyrannical trickery I located the landlady and lavished a loud rant AND rave revolving around rent, reporting resentment about relocation referring to repulsive ricocheting ranch hands robbing me of my remaining rights. I tore up the lease and responded that my lawyer would love to list my loft locally, leaving limited love for the lone star local, letting a lobotomy loom literally left of the line between the legally loony and lost in limbo. Tex took a taxi to town to tolerate a timetable to tell me to take off to Timbuktu, and take my towels, tubs of books, toiletries, tapes and cds, turntable and toys, and try and take the turnpike to temporarily turn off and don’t trick or treat on the way to Tor’s techno-thriller table-top tournament. Slowly I turned, inch by inch, step by step, inch by inch, step by step, and told Tex to take his ZZ Top looking self back home.

Up In The Air

While the C-5 was turning over its engines, a female crewman gave the G.I.'s on board the usual information regarding seat belts, emergency exits, etc.

Finally, she said, "Now sit back and enjoy your trip while your captain, Judith Campbell, and crew take you safely to Afghanistan."

An old Master Sergeant sitting in the eighth row thought to himself, "Did I hear her right? Is the captain a woman?"

When the attendant came by he said, "Did I understand you right? Is the captain a woman?"

"Yes," said the attendant, "in fact, this entire crew is female."

"My God," he said, "I wish I had two double scotch and sodas. I don't know what to think with only women up there in the cockpit."

"That's another thing, Sergeant," said the crew member, "we no longer call it the Cockpit. It's The Box Office."