'I hate lugging these shells around, particularly when they're new or they simply don't fit.' 'Stop moaning, it's boring, you can be such a slime.' 'What did you say?' 'I asked if you know the time?' 'Time to eat, I'll bet.' 'You're such a slug.' 'What?' 'I said, such a slog.'
Jameson was not taking 'no' for an answer. He would run the race, he assured them. The only problem was for the first time in his life, he was stumped. He couldn't run and needed to save face. A radical solution occurred to him. He shot himself in the foot.
Police, security forces, media outlets and the general public were put on alert and asked to assist in the search for Zing, reported missing sometime in the 1970s, presumed lost. Zing is described as energetic, fun-loving and lively. You are advised to alert authorities and please, approach Zing with caution.
'I am not little and I certainly don't twinkle, I'm a star. It's completely different. And as for that 'dwarf star' thing, what the hell is that about? Just because some Danish astronomer, one hundred and ten years ago, forgot his Thesaurus. Look it up, I'm just a common star.'
Balancing on a knife edge was not his idea of fun but for a charity fête, well, there was no harm. Until he realized the slightest tweak of the balance, the liquid in the tube drips, altering the weight that could tip him into the tank full of acid. Plop!
Jim's shadow was outraged. His master ordered and then had delivered, a cake they both liked but then refused to share. He vowed revenge and, his back turned, the shadow engineered to frame his master for fraud. Led away, arrested, he saw, the cake had been eaten by his shadow.
Write a story, someone suggested, about a book, well, not about the book, but about the book and the message inside it. 'The message?' 'Yes, a birthday card with a coded message about being free and behaving like a child.' 'The book's name?' 'Where the Sidewalk Ends, by Shel Silverstein.'