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Saturday, May 17, 2014

Genre Mash Up!

TIW, well, Miranda Hawley to be 'presize', tried a Genre Mash up for a week. 7 different genre with the same 3 elements in 150 words each genre. You could either do separate stories or a continuation, I chose the latter. I did every day and I think it's a great little story. Here is the result. (Actually, it's all comedy but using the 'theme' of the genre :-))
You can find it here, with other parts from DL Zwissler.

AND I still need YOUR VOTE over in the FINAL (100-96 at last count with 5 1/2 days to go!)

Whoops! A Weiner!

Over by the hotdog stand I had a clear view of the suspect in the arcade center playing on a beaten up old pinball machine which had seen better days. I'd followed him all the way from the harbour, his grey, shiny appearence and eyes which were set far apart gave him away as the one to watch. Although he was no Great White, this hammerhead shark matched the witness's description. This was the shark who had terrorised the neighbourhood one night before. It was time to make my move. Throwing the luke warm coffee and foul-tasting hotdog in the trash, I stepped over to the hammerhead. Unfortunately, what I hadn't foreseen was its ability to observe its surroundings with an almost 360 degree periphery. It spotted me as soon as I began to move and flip-flopped deeper into the arcade center, past the shooting games and racing car simulators.
Running into the arcade and through the dimly lit room, I was hit into a pusher game by some unseen force, sending coins cascading out onto the carpet.
"Stop! You!"
The hammerhead shark flipped around at the back searching for something. It had a plastic rifle from the nearest shooting game in its flipper and aimed it in my direction. What was it thinking? Suddenly, a beam of flashing blue light shot from its toy nuzzle. This was no ordinary arcade popgun. The beam missed my head by inches and melted the pinball machine the fiend was playing on only a moment ago. I ducked for cover and watched the shark sit itself comfortably into a spaceship simulator. A few moments later and the spaceship wrenched at its metal fastenings, the toy coming alive. It broke free, flying through the arcade center but instantly crashing into the hotdog stand outside.
(Gothic fiction)
A howling wind blew through the street as the hammerhead shark crawled out of the wreckage, stepping over mustard, ketchup and hotdog buns now scattered across the destroyed hotdog stand.
"You cannot stop the prophecy!" The hammerhead pulled the trigger on his plastic popgun and an intermittent blue flash spluttered forwards. Rolling for cover, I grabbed the backbox of the melted pinball machine and used it as a shield, only to hear an ominous sound come from behind me. Turning, I saw a strange arcade machine come to life, a magic wish machine, 'Zoltar Speaks'.
"I wish for the prophecy to come true!" shouted the hammerhead from the street. The machine whirred and plunked its gears. Lightning struck outside and thunder followed as rain fell relentlessly. A darkness filled the arcade center. I looked out but the hammerhead was nowhere to be seen.
"Your wish has come true!" spoke 'Zoltar'.
(Action Adventure)
The rain petered out as I ran into the street with the pinball machine's backbox as a shield. The place was empty save for the demolished hotdog stand and a dozen or so weiners.
"It has begun!"
The hammerhead shark was back, but now he wasn't alone. It stood there with an army of six foot red lobsters, snapping their claws and flailing their antennae. I saw they thirsted for my blood.
"The prophecy has begun! We will rule the world! But first...kill him!"
The lobsters moved forward on their tailfans and soon there was nowhere to hide. The first clipped my ear and drew blood. With my shield in hand, I began to block, punch and kick my way through a five course meal. After many hard fought moments, I came out victorious, though bloody and beaten. I lifted my eyes to see the plastic popgun at point-blank range.
" can't be! It''!"
The hammerhead shark stood there agast, gazing deep into my swollen eyes.
"You! You are the one! I saw you on that faithful morning at the salmon feeding pools! You moved with such grace, spread the bait with such skill and finesse, it was all I could do but fall for your sweetness, your warmth!" Yes, I remembered that day out at the fish farm. The hammerhead came closer, squishing some loose weiners from the destroyed hotdog stand beneath its tail and lifted me up from the ground with such strength, oh, such strength.
"When I first looked up from the pinball machine, I thought for a moment that...but" I looked into its dark mesmorising eyes, with nictitating membranes sweeping across them, and I saw the hammerhead for what it truly was, a magnificient creature, the likes I'd never met before, or ever will again.
(Ghost Story)
Our embrace was cut short by a sudden cracking noise in the street. What was that? I looked around but the sound only grew stronger and louder. I wanted to hold the hammerhead shark closer to me, for protection, reassurance as my chest tightened and sweat flowed down my back. The sound grew to immense proportions and came from all around us.
"What the...?" The hammerhead looked over to the destroyed hotdog stand, but I couldn't, I couldn't. My stomach churned as I closed my eyes and felt an ominous shake on the ground.
"Oh, no! No, not that!"
I forced myself to turn to whatever held the hammerhead's attention, and the horror was too much to bear. There, now standing with a foot on my backbox shield from the melted pinball machine was a ghost-like 10 foot weiner which towered above us. I gave out a whimper.
"The prophecy!"
The hammerhead shark shook with fear and tried to squeeze through the drain cover as the 10 foot weiner wobbled along, its fangs ready to bite.
"What the hell! It's only a ground-up mix of left-over meat enclosed in a synthetic cellulose casing!" I grabbed my shield made from the backbox of the melted pinball machine and rolled over to the remnants of the destroyed hotdog stand.
"The prophecy!"
As the 10 foot weiner began to take a bite from the dorsal fins of the hammerhead, I decided to let it have it.
"Take that, you oversized lump of waste meat!" It turned and took the full streams of ketchup and mustard in the clamhole. It screamed as only a 10 foot weiner could, and shrivelled away, leaving only it's casing behind.
"Phew!" I picked up a normal weiner lying beside me. "Fancy a weiner?"
"I thought you'd never ask!"

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