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  1. #1
    Franklin Meeks

    Writing contest begins now.

    Seeing as how I can't get a consensus on a format...here we go.

    Enter with no more than 300 words or roughly 1 double spaced page of text.

    Subject off the top of my head: The writing has to deal with being lost in the woods with your mother-in-law and she's done something stupid to ruin the chances of you getting out of the woods alive. These 3 phrases must be included somewhere in the writing: Bigfoot likes Beef Jerky, pop a cap in your ass, over my dead body. Anything goes. Feel free to have your character eat her or turn her skin into snow boots if needed.

    Anyone who posts a story has the right to cast three votes for their favorite, ranking each vote on a scale of 1-100. Highest tally of votes wins. All entries must be posted by Saturday at 5:00 on the same thread. Voting begins then and ends by 12:00am Sunday night on the same thread. Anyone that enters can not reply back to a poster who is not in the contest. I'll tally the votes and post them at the end of the thread Monday 12:01am. If it goes well, we'll have another one starting Monday with someone else selecting a topic and adding or changing the rules to their liking.


  2. #2
    Gregory Haley

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    Uh....this is a great idea. I'd like to know if **** can be my mother-in-law. I'd like some really, really white snow boots.

  3. #3
    Franklin Meeks

    Re: Writing contest begins now.


    Whatever becomes your muse, brother.


  4. #4

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    I'm in favour of gender equality. Anyone who relates better to a father-in-law having done something stupid should be free to do so. That way I can have Bigfoot stick a wad of Beef Jerky in Greg's big yap, pop a cap in his ass, and dance a jig over his dead body.


  5. #5
    Franklin Meeks

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    Mother-in-law can be Father-in-law. Just write something.

  6. #6
    Josh Lemay

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    I decided to do it for fun and because I had a little free time. Where do you want us to post them? Here, or a new thread?

  7. #7
    Franklin Meeks

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    Here's good.


  8. #8
    Josh Lemay

    Re: Writing contest begins now.

    Here you go, then! I'm not really that interested in the actual contest stuff, though. I just got a random idea from your guidelines and figured 300 words wasn't too much to write out. I'd prefer not to actually vote for anyone else's, but reading them would be fun.



    He stared at his mother-in-law. "What?"

    "You shouldn't eat that here." She pointed to the bag he held.

    It was all he had to eat. What did she want from him? "We've been lost for hours. You ate everything else when we first got lost because you said you couldn't handle the anxiety. I'm eating this and nothing can stop me."

    She shrugged as they trudged through the woods. "Bigfoot likes beef jerky, though. Haven't you seen those Jack Link commercials?"

    "Are you serious? Are you serious, mother?" After ten years of disputing it with her, and her refusing to acknowledge anything he said when he mentioned her real name, he'd settled into calling her "mother"; and he hated it. "Bigfoot will not show up in these woods. Over my dead body. It just won't happen."

    They walked in silence, mainly because any time she tried to speak he shot her a dirty glare. He didn't know where they walked. She didn't, either. Who cared where they walked? If they sat, she talked, and then he wanted to die.


    "What now?" He thought she had no reason to object to anything, at least not more than him.

    "Do you have those soda bottles?"

    He did. Taking the Jones soda from his coat pocket, he held them up. "Yes. Why? It's all we have to drink. We need to save them."

    "I heard it in a movie. A gangster movie, but good advice. The mafia man told someone else he'd pop a cap in his ass and it'd keep him warm on those lonely nights. It might be useful in case it gets dark and we can't start a fire."

    He rolled his eyes. "No." As much as she tempted him, he didn't want to waste their last drink.

  9. #9
    Franklin Meeks

    Frankie Meeks digs in.

    Here's mine, at exactly 300 words:

    “Did you just say Bigfoot? What are you thinking? We’re on some g*ddamned TV show, Pamela. It’s the f*cking woods, you cow,” Gary screamed. “But I’ll tell you this. If I saw a 600 pound man-bear right now, I’d let him eat you. Bones and all.” He smacked his hands together, fingers like teeth roaring out of a trap.
    “Go to hell, Stan.” Her one good arm lapped across the bark of the dead oak at her side, face staring back at the direction of their footsteps as they disappeared with the new snow. It was getting harder to see. Shadows hung out of the trees where darkness worked to devour them. “Tammy should’ve never married you. You’re a despicable little simpleton, spending her money like you do.”
    “Let this simpleton share something with you, you stupid b*tch. Bigfoot likes Beef Jerky. And from the look of your ass last night he’d make it a month off you with a bowl of grass and leaves.”
    She shook her old woman head again, wrinkles fraying around the eyes into a smile. “You’re a worthless druggy.”
    “Yeah? Laugh it up, Pamela. I swear to God, I’ll pop a cap in your ass.”
    And not think another second about it, she thought. “You’re not getting home tonight, Gary.”
    “Over my dead body.” He laughed up into the trees. “You’re the one that lost the f*cking GPS, you stupid…”
    She held up the navigation device in her stroke, crippled hand for him to see, teeth laced together, dialing back eleven years of anger.
    He never saw the gun in her other hand, until she shot him in the chest and knocked him into the snow.
    Blood bubbles cropped at the corners of his mouth.
    “Oh, I think you’ll change your mind on that one.”

  10. #10
    Guess Who

    Re: Frankie Meeks digs in.

    Sinister…something not right. First the car breaks down, then he suggests we take a shortcut through the woods. Now we’re lost. Nightfall looms. Icicles hang from the trees.
    “I’m sorry about this,” he mumbles. But his sly look of triumph suggests otherwise. What does the b*stard have planned? I’ve never liked my father-in-law. I castigate myself for accepting a lift from him in the first place. But I was whacked out after a long day at the office, and didn’t much fancy waiting for a bus. “Chris had to work late,” he told me. “And asked me to pick you up.”
    Now this.
    “We’re going to freeze to death,” I mutter through chattering teeth. “We have no food. No blankets. No way to start a fire.” For the first time ever, I regret giving up smoking.
    A wolf howled alarmingly close by. I trudge on. Have to keep going. Have to find a way out.
    “Gotcha!” His beefy hands suddenly grab me round the throat. I wasn’t really surprised. Had been halfway expecting it. “Nothing personal,” he gloated. “It’s all about your nice fat insurance policy.”
    “You b*stard,” I yell, and whip around so quickly it throws him off balance. He slips on the icy ground and crashes down against a tree. I hit him on the head with my heavy purse until the snow stains red with blood. If he’s not dead now, he will be by morning.
    I linger until my breathing returns to normal, and then I set off through the trees. I keep on walking until I hear the sound of traffic in the distance. Dishevelled and exhausted I stagger up onto the road. There’s a “Bigfoot likes Beef Jerky” billboard on the opposite side. It’s peppered with graffiti, everything from “pop a cap in your ass,” to “over my dead body.” A truck appears on the horizon. I stick out my thumb.

    ~ The End ~

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