To celebrate the second year of The Iron Writer Challenge, I thought I'd do as I did last year and create a story with an element from each weekly challenge of the year, in order. All quite pointless, really, but a lot of fun,
Here's a link to last year's..."Waiting for the Equinox"
And here is this year's :-)
Hope you like it...
Trouble at the Lodge
(500 words, 1 element from weekly challenges 59+61-109)
"Look, I'm an atheist, okay," said Dave, pushing through the revolving doors of the ski lodge.
"But you can't hit it with a wooden club, in fact, any weapon."
Dave looked at his companion. "Take that paper bag off your head when I'm speaking."
"No," said Bob.
"And irrigation boots? We're in the Alps!"
They walked to reception, where two staff members were playing rock/paper/scissors, another was eating breakfast with Thornwood tableware, and two others fought with light sabres in the back room. A Minion Dave plush ominously stood over a desk sign which said 'Caution: sharp edges'.
"Excuse me, but I'd like to report a broken thermostat."
"Why sir? What did it do?" asked the receptionist.
"It's broken." Dave gave his most evil stare.
"I'm sorry sir, but the horse has been taken to the halberdier's. We do, however, have a pink fairy armadillo..." He showed the creature from behind the desk.
"Is it gluten free?" asked Bob. Dave moved from 'evil stare' to 'WTF'.
"That would be the poodle, sir. You'd have to asked the bellboy." He pointed to an old genetically enhanced gnome drinking Dr. Pepper over by the lift. The gnome instantly took out his ninja weaponry, ready for battle.
"Looks nasty to me," muttered Dave, watching the kusarigama and fukiya.
"Don't worry, sir. Use a perfume atomiser and call his sons Saggitians. Works every time...sir?"
Dave was transfixed by the poster under the wall clock showing Neo from 'The Matrix' holding a Sooty puppet.
"How can that be?"
"Oh, that. It was our late manager's. We leave it there, out of respect."
"Yes, he suffered from Misophonia."
"He died from Misophonia?" asked Bob.
"He had breast cancer, sir." They stood in silence. "We also have his lucky goat's hoof," he said, "and his certificate of achievement from the Gloustershire Annual Cheese Rolling Competition, 2001." The ski lodge suddenly went dark due to the encroaching storm clouds. With a smile, the receptionist held out a Montblanc fountain pen and an entry form to the evening's Fried Bologna sandwich cookoff. "Would sirs like to attend?"
"I have too much facial hair," excused Bob.
"Not if I was the last person alive on Earth," said Dave. "Besides, I'm wearing my tap dance shoes and it's tame dinosaur bathing night."
"Bacon?" A grieving boy wearing argyle socks and Steampunk goggles came over. With one motion from the receptionist the boy was sucked up by a floor buffer.
"Anyway," said Dave, "I'd also like to report that the flagpole outside was knocked down by an enraged lame llama who was fed Haggis made from barn owls."
"Thank you, sir. I will need to change the lawn mower blade on the Star-Bellied-Sneetch machine and call for a terracotta soldier from China, then."
"One question?" asked Bob.
"Why isn't there mouse-flavoured cat food?"
"One more question?" asked Bob again.
"Can I buy a Moon rock here?"
"Where do think you are, sir? Venice?"