Week 66 Story: Submissions (Quentin Thayn)

3 Words: Apostrophe, Induce, Wrong (May 18, 2012 prompt)

Submissions

by Quentin Thayn

Tired and weary the KOA sat at his computer, ready to check on his beloved website: Three Suggestions One Thesis. The day had most certainly had been awful and the KOA was ready to blow off some steam in his favorite pastime of laughing at others’ horrid use of punctuation.

Maroon pen in hand the KOA grabbed the stack of freshly printed submissions and flopped down on his fluffy couch. “Let’s see, the first submission is from Don Clapper. This should be good,” the KOA said to himself.

3 Suggestions: Safe, Balance, Restricted

The house cat, Chetacka, climbed the telephone pole— “Are you kidding me?” the KOA said. “Stay cool, it’s just the first sentence. It will get better.”  The KOA continued reading: The house cat, Chetacka, climbed the telephone pole. The nimble Feline balanced on the power line ready to pounce on a sparrow. Unfortunately it was grounded and one-hundred-million volts caused it to explode.  The End.

The KOA could feel a headache coming on after he wrote “accepted” across the page. In some corner of the KOA’s heart he knew the moral thing would be to get the ice cream out of the freezer and drown his work induced sorrows. Perhaps the next submission would be a less calorie laden way to unwind.

“Oh good. It’s Taffy O’sassypants. She always delivers.”

3 Suggestions: Sociology, Consummate, Knotted

Shelly knew she was in trouble when the spirit warrior hadn’t followed the false trail like the others. Since then she had fled the safety of the Vale to find mockery in the brambles that tore at her hands and face.

A clear spring bubbled out of a rock set in a still grotto littered by fragrant flowers. Shelly’s heart skipped as she heard the soft clip of hooves. Only then did she realize that her blouse had been torn. “Please don’t go there,” the KOA murmured.  The spirit warrior rode into the clearing, his silky long hair billowing in the breeze. The warrior’s well muscled arms, his bulging pectorals—

“Eew.” The KOA set the manuscript down. After all, he ran a family friendly webpage.

The next submission was from Desert Shaker:

3 Suggestions: Sociology, Consummate, Knotted

The gleam in Sam’s eye told Mindy all she needed to know. Sam loved her. Sam truly loved her. Yes, Sam had just dumped Jenny, but he said that he didn’t love Jenny. Dear sweet Sam. How liberated Mindy felt when Sam took off—

The KOA wadded up the manuscript. The missile of grammatical non-family friendliness flew over the KOA’s shoulder and into the waste bin.

Next on the list was Dinton Pain. The KOA almost burnt this paper in a preemptive strike, but he was short on things to post. “What’s the damage this time?” the KOA said as he got out his Politically Incorrect White Out. He set the White Out next to the Potential-Lawsuit-Line-Veto Pen.

Three Suggestions: Sociology, Consummate, Knotted  

“Great Cheetos in a blender,” the KOA blurted. This one should’ve been burned after all. But he had to at least give it a try.

The fireman burst into the room. He looked around; there was no fire. “Where’s the fire?” he said to the guy on the throw rug. The guy on the throw rug twisted his old timey mustache and said, “I’ve got you’re fire right here.”

Without letting a single expletive slip, the KOA gently set down the submission, walked into the bathroom, and washed his eyes with soap. Dry heaves propelled nothing from his cramping stomach. So, with purpose in his step, the KOA walked to the kitchen. He ate three bowls of ice cream and returned to the bathroom to puke properly.

Wiping the froth from his mouth, the KOA sat himself down for the last submission: Weather Change.

3 Suggestions: Safe Balance Restricted

Chill winds caressed the trees into giving up the last leaves in the same way he gripped my soul with icy intentions. I gave the last clinging hopes away for what? A smile? The kind of false grin that doesn’t even lift the corners of the eyes? Yet worn I am, like a pencil that has been sharpened by the clumsy and uncaring hands of a three year old. Ground between blades over and over until nothing is left. I am a stub of a pencil, or the leaf that molds on the soggy lawn just waiting for someone to cut me in a gas-powered whirlwind of sharpened steal. Then I see how cute he is in those tight jeans. His chiseled chin and his washboard abs…”

The KOA set the papers down. “I give up.” The laptop might have some amusements to lift his weary mind. Logging into his email the KOA perused his many messages.

One was marked The Eye See Sea. It read:  Hey man, thought you could use a break so I reviewed the submissions. I have to say that I’ve never seen anything like tonight’s theses. Cus man, they were AWESOME!!!! J I already posted them all. Ciao!

The KOA shut the laptop, repeatedly slamming his forehead down on the plastic shell.