Tales from the Mind of Kristian posted a creative writing assignment he had in his class, and it looked fun and interesting, so I am stealing it.
The tasks are:
- Write down two random names and give them jobs
- Write down two different locations
- Write down some objects
- Write down three emotions
- Write down an accident
- Write a story or poem using these prompts going from one location to the other
Okay, its 7:20 am
Character 1: John Baker – dung farmer
Character 2: Edward Cooper – unemployed singer
Location 1: Disneyland
Location 2: Death Valley
Object 1: cane
Object 2: leash
Object 3: can opener
Object 4: harmonica
Object 5: soda can
Emotion 1: anticipation
Emotion 2: terrified
Emotion 3: indignation
The Accident: someone throws up
Time now– 7:24…let’s see where this takes me. Finished at 8:41 am.
**note, there is swearing in this one
“Hey Coop,” Adam said, stepping into his Pluto costume. “Who you got today?”
“Bert.” Edward held up the white slacks, red and yellow striped jacket, and cane.
“Oh God! Sorry man.”
Edward chuckled. “Just once I would like to be a Stormtrooper or Captain Hook. Hell, I’d even settle for Pinocchio over Bert, but hey, at least it’s a job.”
“Got that right. See you on Main Street.” Adam put on Pluto’s and began walking through parts of the park no visitor gets to see.
Edward finished getting ready for the day, practiced is main song and a few lines, then headed out on Main Street to greet the crowds who were anticipating meeting Mickey and the rest of the Gang rather than Bert, but as Adam said, it was a job and he was glad to have it.
The morning started off well. Him and Mary went for strolls down Main Street, had photo ops with a few princesses, and they had a lovely lunch together. His bosses had a strange sense of humor though, because after all the good times in the morning, he was assigned to Fantasyland in the afternoon. Over lunch he mentioned that it wasn’t fair to send him to Fantasyland for the one-man band show because none of the kids even knew who he was anymore. Mary laughed and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. At least that made it all worthwhile.
His first show went well, and he was just doing a photo op with a family under the Dumbo ride when it happened. From high above it came and declared Edward as its target with perfect accuracy.
“What the Hell! Oh God! Fuck! Shit! …”
Edward forgot where he was as the child’s vomit knocked his hat off and began dribbling down the back of his neck and over his brow. Parents covered children’s ears and stormed off as Edward continued his profanity laced rant.
“Edward Cooper,” the park manager said. “That behavior was not –”
“Yeah, I know. I’m fired, aren’t I?”
“Collect your things. Security will escort you out.”
Edward sat in his apartment nursing away his bad with a drink and a good game of Call of Duty. He was in the middle of a round and telling his friends about being puked on by a little kid when there was a knock at his front door.
“BRB,” he screamed as he ran to the door, flinging it open only to see an empty hallway. He saw the notice as he was closing the door. “Fuck!”
He took down the taped 3-Day Notice and returned to his game to see that he had died. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. Karma has a way about picking on people and it was not done with Edward yet. His can of ravioli attacked him after the tab popped off and the can opener broke while trying to open it. A quick two-hour trip to the local clinic and four stitches later, he opted for McDonalds drive thru. Opening his Big Mac box revealed undercooked burgers on a blood-soaked bun. So much for dinner. While taking his trash down to the trash room, Mrs. Levinson’s vicious chihuahua escaped its leash and attacked his ankle. Back to the clinic for more stitches. It almost nearly midnight when he returned to his apartment, only to find the door wide open and the place ransacked.
His burglary was low on the police priority so they didn’t arrive till almost six in the morning. The officer was indignant when Edward asked what took them so long as he got up off the hallway outside of his apartment. The police looked around, asked a few questions, then left with a ‘good luck’.
“Dude,” Edward said, looking at his reflection in the broken mirror on his living room floor. “Don’t ever think if a day could get worse again.”
He sat in his car thinking about his options. “East. Let’s head East.”
He headed out on I-10 to I-15 and all points East. He sang along as music blared. Today was a great day to start a new life, he told himself sitting in a traffic jam. Traffic was smoother and the day looked bright again after he stopped for gas and a bite to eat in Barstow.
“Now what?” he asked coming to a police detour in Baker. They were diverting all traffic North on 127. “Okay, I go North then. Don’t want to make Karma pissed at me again.”
Just outside of Death Valley his car sputtered to a halt. No gas. Edward shielded his eyes as he stepped out into the afternoon sun and heat.
“No choice,” he told himself as he reached in the car for his last can of soda. “Gotta walk.”
A few cars passed by but none stopped.
“You gotta be joking me!” he yelled, reading a sign that said 15 miles to Death Valley.
“Did that sign talk to you?” a man standing behind an old barb wire fence.
Edward laughed. “Nah, sorry. Car broke down and I thought I was closer to town than I am.”
The man laughed. “Happens all the time. Come on over and I’ll give you a lift.”
“Thanks.” Edward carefully climbed over the fence into the man’s field. “Name’s Edward, but most people call me Coop.”
“John. Most people call me John.”
They both laughed. As they walked through the field, the two talked about this and that, life working at Disneyland, and everything that had happened.
“That sounds like a nightmare,” John said.
Edward found it easy to talk to John. Something about walking through the field make Edward happy and less terrified about what his future would be. John shared things of his life and they had a lot in common with each other.
“So, what kind of farming can you do out here in Death Valley?”
Edward stopped walking. “Um…sorry. I didn’t mean any—”
John started laughing so hard his eyes teared. “Nah, man! I’m a dung farmer. You know, the shit rich people like putting on their organic gardens. I get paid for shit!”
Edward started laughing like he hadn’t in months. Then he looked at the ground.
John laughed even harder. “No…this here’s my own field for food.”
As they finished walking back to John’s house, he pulled out his harmonica and started playing. Edward thought to himself how lucky John was to be living out here in the open with few responsibilities. At least he assumed being a dung farmer wouldn’t have a lot of responsibilities. They finally came to John’s farmhouse. Edward’s jaw dropped when he saw John’s gaming setup inside. John laughed. After several hours of playing, night had settled in and John offered a room for the night. One night turned into two, and two turned into four, and four turned into eight. A year later John and Edward are still playing computer games after feeding the animals and selling their dung to the rich people back in Anaheim. Edward was never happier.