Friday, May 15, 2009

Now Boarding--Flight #100 words or less

It's been rainy here this week, which reminds me of living in Ireland, which, in turn, makes me daydream about the perfect vacation. Now I want you to daydream about the perfect vacation, too. Where would you go right now, if you could go anywhere? What would you do? Challenge: Write a story, 100 words or less, set in your dream vacation location. DO NOT tell us where it is. Make us guess. Give us good hints.
  • For example, rather than telling us that your 737 is headed toward Orlando to see the Magic Kingdom, drop Snow White in there--or Space Mountain, or anything else that might make us think you're talking about Disney World.
  • Or, rather than telling us you are heading to Montego Bay, you might want to talk about the crazy taxi driver who met you at the airport named Sebastian Cornelius Dread, Mon.
Additional Rules:
  1. Your story must include an animal native to the area you're writing about.
  2. Your story must include toast. Yes, toast. (Adding--I'm talking toasted bread, man--not A toast, but TOAST!!) ----------->
Prize: A signed copy of The Dust of 100 Dogs and a pirate toast stamp. Yes, a pirate toast stamp. I have one and it's awesome. Believe me. You want one. Deadline: Monday, May 18th, 11:59PM EST. Winners will be chosen by three Jamaican lizards, a shorter-than-average clown and a three-fingered man. Please leave your entry in the comments area, along with an email address. If you don't want to leave your email address, drop me a line at asking (at) as-king (dot) com, and give it to me there, please. Thanks! Good Luck! (And thanks, Thao, for reminding me to know, you LIVE in my present dream vacation location!)


Steph Bowe said...

You have no idea how badly I want that pirate toast stamp. (Badly. Really, really badly.) I based this on real experience, and a place where I go every year:

There’s sand beneath my toes and the ocean lapping at my feet. It’s just on twilight, and the fairy lights and gaudy fluorescent lights outside nightclubs across the way are just starting to flicker on. But I’m not looking that way; I’m looking out to sea. I’m waiting for the water to conspicuously quiver, and for it’s silvery form to glide past. Then I see it, the dolphin; and though I’ve seen one many times, they never cease to amaze me. Then it passes, and a crisp wind sighs through the trees, and I remember to breathe.

97 words! That was hard.
(I'm in Australia, so this might be hard to guess. If you want to know, I'll tell you where it is.)

I hope the Jamaican lizards like it.


Steph Bowe said...

Sorry! Forgot my email address:

Joanne Levy said...

Scorpions scurried across the sand which was so hot, it threatened to burst into flames. My throat was parched, my stomach grumbled. I was in desperate need of drink and sustenance. I finally arrived at the strip mall and nipped inside the little restaurant.
My stomach gave out a mighty roar.
I was quickly greeted by a chorus of, “You came!”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said, my words little more than a dry croak. “Get me enchiladas!”
A glass was pressed into my hand. I lifted it high, as my companions did with their own.
“To us!” we bellowed.

A.S. King said...

Hey Steph-- I *love* your entry...and your dolphin, but dude--where's the toast?

No worries. You can rewrite, or just slap up another entry! (See? I want you to win that toast stamp, too! Only one left!!)

Thanks so much for playing!


Memory said...

"I want crawfish, Momma." Sandy bounces up and down in her seat. "Crawfish on toast."

"I don't know if they do that, baby. How 'bout etouffe? It’s real tasty.”

Sandy twists around and fixes me with a Look. Okay. Etouffe ain’t gonna cut it.

I wonder if she’d eat a poboy? There’s gotta be someone in the French Quarter who does a crawfish poboy. Them things is sorta toasty, right?

“Okay,” I say. “We’ll try.” I tug the bell, and we hop off the streetcar at the next stop. Toast Search ’09 has begun.

xicanti AT

pepsivanilla said...

As soon as I arrived, I set off on a search for knee-length leather boots. The smell of glorious carbs, however, lured me into a street-side café, and I set off with a piece of toast for my journey. Distracted by the fresh aroma and buttery taste of my sustenance, I wandered off track. Suddenly, a beautiful Parnassus Apollo butterfly landed on my toast. As I was admiring its red and black spots, the beast began devouring my precious snack! I sighed and ran back toward the promise of new boots, and managed to evade the demonic toast snatching creature.


penny roth said...

I will call nine islands “home” for the next three weeks. One night on the Travel Channel I watched the friendliest, funniest people roasting a pig on the beach, overlooking the bluest Atlantic, and I knew I had to come (despite the fact that I don’t eat swine!). Portuguese influences here are undeniable, from the architecture, to the food, to the locals’ accents and attitudes. I couldn’t sleep on the four hour flight, so today I slept on the beach, in soft, volcanic sand. The late afternoon sun is hot and I feel like a piece of burnt toast.

99 words, including an animal and cooked bread. where in the world in penny roth????

penny roth said...

so busy sunning i forgot my email address!
penny roth

p.s. already have a copy of the book but should the academy chose to bestow this honor upon me, the toast thing is way cool

Steph Bowe said...

I CAN'T BELIEVE I FORGOT THE TOAST. This will put me over the limit, but just pretend it doesn't. Tacked onto the end of my entry:

I ran down the beach, flailing my arms and crying, "THAT DOLPHIN STOLE MY TOAST!"

Thao said...

So glad you got another contest Amy! I'm supposed to be studying now but you make me dream of vacation haha.

Monika:) said...

The gentle breeze caressed my skin as I rocked gently in my hammock under the shade of a large palm tree. My newest jewel of escapism, a novel about a teenage girl pirate rested on my belly. Banana birds trilled me a lullaby and a sigh of complete contentment escaped my lips as my gaze fell upon the toned muscles of the attentive towel boy. I languidly sipped my iced rum punch as the fragrant scent of burnt toast wafted…Burnt Toast?!?! Snapped back to the reality of life and hungry children, my next sigh was one of resignation. Oh well, I thought, at least the book is real.

Note: I respectfully disqualify myself from the contest as 1) I tied for first place in the last one and 2) this is deliberately 108 words as I absolutely HAD to include the last sentence. Good luck everyone!

Anonymous said...

In the midst of gravel, before the train tracks and the trees that align them, lies a little diner. Upon my approach I get flashbacks of our first date. The sky blue enough that even the appearance of a deer would not be a surprise in the morning hours. Your face so concentrated on putting jam on the small slice of white toast when you looked up I had to look away. I get to the door years later to see the dust layered windows mirroring the same old paved road that leads to the town I have been missing.

Note: Thanks for having another contest!


A.S.Johnson said...

Pirate Toast and a Signed Book? IRRESISTIBLE!

"The rain scent is still heavy in the air, mixing with the chalky sent of wet clay. I wait as the sun reaches that magical point when the light blazes over the rocky top of the mountain I’m sitting on and pours into the valley below. It happens, and I look across the collection of cities. I take a bite out of a piece of toast with some grape jelly on it and watch a Gila monster amble onto a rock, ready to enjoy the coming heat. I smile and I start my hike down before the temperature hits ninety.



HWPetty said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
thelittlefluffycat said...

The toast was for him. He liked his bread dry and crunchy. I liked mine flat and round, potatoey and buttery. Every culture has its quirks. His liked things to crunch when he bit them.

He checked the clock. “Almost time.” Crumbs dribbled out of his pink mouth and into snowy fur.

“I know, I know…” I jumped down to the cork floor, pulled a pointed red hat down over my ears, and climbed onto my breakfast companion’s back. We padded out the back door into the snow. “Time et aurora borealis, yadda yadda. . .”

HWPetty said...

The green of the forest practically glowed through the little window above my desk, luring my eyes from the soft blue of my laptop screen. I indulged, gazing out at the sunlight-speckled fern fronds, the muscular tree branches almost black with wet and dripping with colonies of moss, a soft perch for flickering, musical birds.

Only four more days left in the non-chaotic solitude of my remote cabin. Four blissful days of toast for dinner.

Four days without them.

My phone was in hand before I could finish the thought.

“Mommy!!” squealed into my ear.

“Only four more days, love bug.”


Heather Dearly said...

My cot is in the stockroom which smells like paste and pulp. I have a reading lamp that sits on a small table if I choose to read myself to sleep. My all included stay consists of free café fare-toast or jam if I wish, free high speed internet, mall shower access, and one reserved cushy chair in the general fiction section. My kids are on vacation with their grandparents. Husband is gone fishing. Dog is boarded at the vets with extra daily walks. And my parting gift is a $5000 gift certificate and lifetime renewal of my membership card.

100 words!

Cari said...

My husband never let me drive, so it was he that narrowly missed the stray chicken as our rental car pulled into the parking space.
“Yes! Another one,” I exclaimed, pulling the carefully packed toast out of my purse.
“You probably shouldn’t feed them. That’s why they hang around,” Lee said. I chose to ignore him and readied the toast for its impending consumption by a flock of feral chickens.
I loved the beauty of the island – the ocean, the rocky trails. But, it was the bizarre fact that the island was overrun by chickens that had captured my heart.


Erica said...

That's amazing! A toast stamp!

So, my flight was delayed and I sat around for 2 hours, therefore getting into Brisbane Airport hours late. I caught a cab, and the driver just kept talking about tasmanian devils, and I'm thinking huh? Anyways.. I arrived at my hotel 20 minutes later. I check in, and head straight to bed as I was rather tired. This hotel was very nice, and offered a continental breakfast. So in the morning I get up all excited, and I get down there. It consists of TOAST! There's 6 kinds of bread, with 16 choices of toppings. So I made a feast of toast, and headed out to see the city! The first thing I had to do was snorkle on the reef! It was amazing! Next I went to the Olgas. It was an amazing vacation, and I did so much more!

Erica said...

oops. Sorry forgot my email on the bottom. :)

Shanni said...

Here we go...It will be obvious, but I want to go here!

Hey! Mukker! It is a beautiful morning on the moor. The fog has lifted and the glassy water is glistening through the speckles of sun in the clouds. The nightly fairies have left the stocks of grass dewy and the shrill yet beautiful sounds of the bagpipes are being played in the distance. Along the brown rocky path comes the red squirrel. His name is Adie. This kind creature, a native of this country, is a sweet and kind creature. We share a meal of Haggis and toast, although he prefers the Haggis and I prefer the toast.


Anonymous said...

Pon’s hibiscus jam would be good on toast. We spread it on banana pancakes. After breakfast, I tromp past the chicken coop where a Burmese python was caught during the dry season. Look up. Always scan the treetops. Snakes might be waiting to drop from branches above, swallow me whole. But only hornbills bend the tree limbs. They leer over the teak walls of my outdoor shower. Squawk! Look! Naked tourist. Inside, I lie beneath mosquito net, wait for sleep. Beneath last night’s Southern Cross, I walked the beach hunting for sea turtle tracks, eggs to rescue, treasure to rehide.

Exactly 100 words from Lori

Shawn said...

I’m so excited I burn my toast twice this morning. I’m finally in the country of my dreams: green hills, grazing sheep, leaping salmon, sweet music…it all forms poetry I long to give voice to. If only my voice was worthy.

The line moves. It’s my turn now. I lie on my back; the guide shows me where the handholds are. I pull myself up to kiss the stone. I stand up and see my wife smiling at me.

“Did it work?”

I take a deep breath and open my mouth, curious to see how I answer.

Lisa Mantchev said...

"Croissant, madame?"

I frowned. "No, I ordered toast."

The waiter looked down his nose at me. "Brioche?"

"No." Head throbbing--I should have known better than to guzzle a bottle a champagne at my age!--I managed to swallow three aspirin with only a half-mouthful of spit. "Dry toast. No butter."


When I nodded, he slammed his tray down on my café table and stomped off to deliver my offensive demands to the chef, and I looked at Rémy.

The rat only gave a quintessential gallic shrug, adjusting his own tiny sunglasses as he consumed his ratatouille.

Lisa Mantchev said...


lisa at lisamantchev dot com ! :)

Lenore Appelhans said...

“I can’t believe the blue footed boobies just stand around posing for photographs,” Daniel says to me as we board the boat heading to the next island.

“It’s amazing that the animals here have no fear of man, even though pirates and sailors ate up almost the entire population of turtles,” I reply.

“Well, I’d never eat these turtles,” Daniel grins. “There are no toasters here, and I only eat turtle on toast, you know.”

Great contest as usual :)

lenoreva at hotmail dot com

Lenore Appelhans said...

Oh...and NOW I see I missed the deadline. Oh well! I had fun writing it anyway...

Monika:) said...

<---Ubergeek had to google pic of the blue footed boobie because- well, it is a BLUE FOOTED BOOBIE! The best animal name, too funny. If anyone else has a burning desire to see a boobie of the blue footed variety (sorry gentlemen)...