It's nicer with mustard smiled Samuel, licking the circumference of his nose until it shone. Huffling in the heat he moved closer to that appetising chair leg, smeared with yellow paste to deter his tongue. Mmmmmm. Mustard. A hound's tasty treat.
It's a pineapple. Under a ciabatta loaf. And that's a round of brie. Stop photographing it, tabloid-face. I'm not a surrealist anyway. That's an elephant thing. It's just a shopping list. Give it to the keeper. I don't like ants. That's all.
And next time, bring me crayons. I have vaguely Fauvist leanings.
The Shed Correspondent Today’s enticing news from the shed – a small but perfectly formed slug (Alice Slither) has applied for planning permission to enable her to create a crayon farm on the lower left-hand edge of Kirk U. Bit’s allotment. Kirk has objected on the grounds that crayons are for life not for farming. The crayons in question waxed lyrical on the subject of cucumbers.
We post wordy and visual prompts. You get monstrously inspired and share the fruits of your labours in the comments. Or just sneak quietly away, write a Mostly Life inspired bestseller and get massively rich on the proceeds. We won’t judge you.
About Mostly Life.
Mostly Life is an interactive global repository for all things mirthful and gigglesome and generally fairly creative. Its numerous mods are responsible for posting any vaguely comical material they see fit, be it self-penned fiction, satirical commentary, links to ace websites, comical clips, lists of prompts, doodlings, philosophical ponderings or just isolated random fragments of mirth that don’t have a home in a full-length piece of writing but powerfully need to be seen and taken and generally faffed about with by the general writing public. The profoundly special thing about the blogfulness of Mostly Life is that it affords regular opportunities for you to contribute to the artistic content of the project as well: you can participate in Round Robin stories, you can write micro-fiction based on regular prompts (the best of which might become posts in their own right), you can send in suggestions, you can be inspired by what other people are writing and by and large you can just be a hugely significant element of this wondrous community resource globule of marvellousness type thing what we’ve got going here. Happy commenting.
6 comments:
Salvation through fretwork
It's nicer with mustard
smiled Samuel, licking the circumference of his nose until it shone. Huffling in the heat he moved closer to that appetising chair leg, smeared with yellow paste to deter his tongue.
Mmmmmm. Mustard. A hound's tasty treat.
How to be an outcast
1. take a leg
2. ensure it is pre-broken
3. enclose.
An aardvark with a pencil
It's a pineapple. Under a ciabatta loaf. And that's a round of brie. Stop photographing it, tabloid-face. I'm not a surrealist anyway. That's an elephant thing. It's just a shopping list. Give it to the keeper. I don't like ants. That's all.
And next time, bring me crayons. I have vaguely Fauvist leanings.
The Shed Correspondent
Today’s enticing news from the shed – a small but perfectly formed slug (Alice Slither) has applied for planning permission to enable her to create a crayon farm on the lower left-hand edge of Kirk U. Bit’s allotment. Kirk has objected on the grounds that crayons are for life not for farming. The crayons in question waxed lyrical on the subject of cucumbers.
You can be an outcast by birth: it depends on your shun sign.
If you do not have this advantage, simply post on this blog to ensure that no-one will take any notice of you.
Or bludgeon a puppy.
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