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Writing Group / Re: Writing Prompts!
« on: December 20, 2010, 07:44:10 AM »
Another first poster, and already impressed by other stuff here. Here's my attempt at the dialogue writing prompt:
~~~~
“OK, I'm awake and I'm here. Happy?”
“Delighted. Come on, it's over here.”
“...Huh.”
“Amazing, right?”
“Aunt Aileen isn't going to like this. You know how neurotic she is about keeping the front yard clean.”
“Eri, you're missing the big picture here! This is actual evidence of a spontaneous human combustion!”
“It's a black silhouette and a pile of ash. It doesn't even look all that convincing.”
“Doesn't have to look convincing. They can analyze the ash and find human DNA in it, I saw it on TV.”
“Whatever. Look, is that it? Because I would really like to go back to bed now.”
“Eri, come on! I need your help!”
“If you want me to put... this... thing in little baggies so you can try to convince someone to analyze it, or something, I'm letting you know right now that I am not touching it."
"Well, no, that'd contaminate the evidence, but that's not what I'm getting at. I want you to help me find him."
"Who?"
"The guy!"
"Let me try this again. Who do you want me to help you find?"
"The guy who spontaneously combusted!"
"...Kenneth?"
“Yeah?”
“Look down.”
“OK?”
“You see that pile of ash?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess what? You found him!"
“You know what I mean. We need to figure out who he was, where he came from, why he showed up at my house and burst into a ball of flame—and, well, I have to admit... I'm starting to wonder about the shoes.”
“The shoes.”
“Well, according to other eyewitnesses of SHC—”
“It has an acronym?”
“—there's usually a pair of shoes left behind. With some feet still in them.”
“That's disgusting.”
“Yeah, I know. But why didn't this guy leave the shoes behind? Makes me kind of wonder if there was something weird about this case, or maybe... do you think someone could be playing a prank on me? Again? Like, with the UFOs last month?”
“Nice to see something resembling healthy skepticism from you, but it disturbs me more than a little that the only thing that bothers you about this is the shoes.”
“What do you mean? What else is wrong?”
“Well, just for starters, there's the fact that spontaneous human combustion isn't real.”
“What, you don't believe in it? But it happens all the time! I've seen the scientific documentaries, and you're looking at evidence right—”
“Ken, seriously, that conspiracy-theory garbage you watch does not count as science just because it's on the Discovery Channel.”
“...Still. If it didn't happen, where would the stories come from?”
“Oh, please. Look, listen to some real science for once. Spontaneous Combustion does happen. To hay. And it's not even spontaneous. There's a kind of mildew that can grow inside hay bales. It undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to heat up, and because hay is so flammable it just catches fire when the mildew is hot enough.”
“So why couldn't a person have some of that mildew?”
“Um, mildew doesn't grow on people. Not when they're alive, anyway.”
“Wait. Wait. I get what you're saying.”
“Great! Finally we make some progress. Your psychologist will be thrilled.”
“You're saying he was a zombie?”
“What? No! No, that is not what I'm—”
“But that makes total sense! That's why the guy didn't say anything when I tried to talk to him. I guess it's a good thing the mildew got him before he had a chance to go after my brains then.”
“It's like... instead of jumping to conclusions, you skip over the conclusions and onto a different train of thought entirely.”
“But if there's one zombie, there's probably others. This could be the zombie apocalypse. Even worse, this could be the spontaneously combusting zombie apocalypse.”
“No. Just... no.”
“We've got to find out what happened to this guy. But how am I going to find a zombie?”
“Marco Polo. Play a game of Marco Polo. That is clearly the next step in your highway robbery of logic.”
“No, that wouldn't work. Zombies can't talk very well. Death relaxes your vocal chords too much.”
“...the worst part is that I'm not even sure whether or not you're serious anymore.”
“Well, where would you look for a dead guy?”
“The obituaries, I guess.”
“Of course! You're brilliant! OK, so now we just need some newspapers.”
“Correction, now you just need some newspapers. It is eight in the morning on a Saturday; I am going back to bed whether you like it or not.”
“But if you leave now we'll loose the trail!”
“Trail?”
“Come Watson, the game's afoot!”
“Watson?”
“...I'll find a way to get you out of doing dishes after the family reunion next week.”
“You're supposed to help me with that anyway.”
“I'll come over and mow the lawn for you.”
“Hm.”
“If you help me out, I won't let my brother's tarantula loose in your room.”
“What? You... fine, whatever, I'll come. But this had better not take too long.”
“Oh, relax, it'll be fun... Hey, Eri.”
“What?”
“I just realized something.”
“Yeah?”
“That guy who spontaneously combusted, he must have been a really Fun Guy, right?”
“...”
“You get it? Because mildew is a fungus?”
“...this is going to be a long day.”
~~~~
“OK, I'm awake and I'm here. Happy?”
“Delighted. Come on, it's over here.”
“...Huh.”
“Amazing, right?”
“Aunt Aileen isn't going to like this. You know how neurotic she is about keeping the front yard clean.”
“Eri, you're missing the big picture here! This is actual evidence of a spontaneous human combustion!”
“It's a black silhouette and a pile of ash. It doesn't even look all that convincing.”
“Doesn't have to look convincing. They can analyze the ash and find human DNA in it, I saw it on TV.”
“Whatever. Look, is that it? Because I would really like to go back to bed now.”
“Eri, come on! I need your help!”
“If you want me to put... this... thing in little baggies so you can try to convince someone to analyze it, or something, I'm letting you know right now that I am not touching it."
"Well, no, that'd contaminate the evidence, but that's not what I'm getting at. I want you to help me find him."
"Who?"
"The guy!"
"Let me try this again. Who do you want me to help you find?"
"The guy who spontaneously combusted!"
"...Kenneth?"
“Yeah?”
“Look down.”
“OK?”
“You see that pile of ash?”
“Yeah.”
“Guess what? You found him!"
“You know what I mean. We need to figure out who he was, where he came from, why he showed up at my house and burst into a ball of flame—and, well, I have to admit... I'm starting to wonder about the shoes.”
“The shoes.”
“Well, according to other eyewitnesses of SHC—”
“It has an acronym?”
“—there's usually a pair of shoes left behind. With some feet still in them.”
“That's disgusting.”
“Yeah, I know. But why didn't this guy leave the shoes behind? Makes me kind of wonder if there was something weird about this case, or maybe... do you think someone could be playing a prank on me? Again? Like, with the UFOs last month?”
“Nice to see something resembling healthy skepticism from you, but it disturbs me more than a little that the only thing that bothers you about this is the shoes.”
“What do you mean? What else is wrong?”
“Well, just for starters, there's the fact that spontaneous human combustion isn't real.”
“What, you don't believe in it? But it happens all the time! I've seen the scientific documentaries, and you're looking at evidence right—”
“Ken, seriously, that conspiracy-theory garbage you watch does not count as science just because it's on the Discovery Channel.”
“...Still. If it didn't happen, where would the stories come from?”
“Oh, please. Look, listen to some real science for once. Spontaneous Combustion does happen. To hay. And it's not even spontaneous. There's a kind of mildew that can grow inside hay bales. It undergoes a chemical reaction that causes it to heat up, and because hay is so flammable it just catches fire when the mildew is hot enough.”
“So why couldn't a person have some of that mildew?”
“Um, mildew doesn't grow on people. Not when they're alive, anyway.”
“Wait. Wait. I get what you're saying.”
“Great! Finally we make some progress. Your psychologist will be thrilled.”
“You're saying he was a zombie?”
“What? No! No, that is not what I'm—”
“But that makes total sense! That's why the guy didn't say anything when I tried to talk to him. I guess it's a good thing the mildew got him before he had a chance to go after my brains then.”
“It's like... instead of jumping to conclusions, you skip over the conclusions and onto a different train of thought entirely.”
“But if there's one zombie, there's probably others. This could be the zombie apocalypse. Even worse, this could be the spontaneously combusting zombie apocalypse.”
“No. Just... no.”
“We've got to find out what happened to this guy. But how am I going to find a zombie?”
“Marco Polo. Play a game of Marco Polo. That is clearly the next step in your highway robbery of logic.”
“No, that wouldn't work. Zombies can't talk very well. Death relaxes your vocal chords too much.”
“...the worst part is that I'm not even sure whether or not you're serious anymore.”
“Well, where would you look for a dead guy?”
“The obituaries, I guess.”
“Of course! You're brilliant! OK, so now we just need some newspapers.”
“Correction, now you just need some newspapers. It is eight in the morning on a Saturday; I am going back to bed whether you like it or not.”
“But if you leave now we'll loose the trail!”
“Trail?”
“Come Watson, the game's afoot!”
“Watson?”
“...I'll find a way to get you out of doing dishes after the family reunion next week.”
“You're supposed to help me with that anyway.”
“I'll come over and mow the lawn for you.”
“Hm.”
“If you help me out, I won't let my brother's tarantula loose in your room.”
“What? You... fine, whatever, I'll come. But this had better not take too long.”
“Oh, relax, it'll be fun... Hey, Eri.”
“What?”
“I just realized something.”
“Yeah?”
“That guy who spontaneously combusted, he must have been a really Fun Guy, right?”
“...”
“You get it? Because mildew is a fungus?”
“...this is going to be a long day.”