I’ve been writing from a random word everyday for several weeks. Today I switched it up to a random sentence. The randomness did not disappoint.
Tomatoes make good weapons when water balloons aren’t available.
And this is where I went with it:
Tomatoes make good weapons when water balloons aren’t available. They’re just heavy enough to slow a thing down and appropriately messy. I don’t know for a fact that tomato guts to the eye will be as effective as holy water but it can’t be far off.
My nerves settle into my belly releasing a wave of nausea. Perhaps the heaved chunks of a morning breakfast will work too.
Just outside the metal cafeteria doors I can hear a raging river of small voices murmuring in sync.
What is it they’re saying?
It sounds like a low squalling but a distinctive rhythm makes me pause. The murmur starts low, rising then declining again. A distinctive hum begins to form, one that has echoed through the cafeteria many times before.
“Breathe deep and count to three. When you wake up we’ll be done …”
Jessie’s eyes snapped open. For a man of 38 his back possessed a myriad of problems, waking up on the street never seemed to help matters.
Though it was snowing when the van plucked him from the corner this area was somewhat warm. There was light but surveying the sky Jessie couldn’t find the Sun. As his feet began sliding he noticed the street was covered in a yellow shellac.
In fact, every surface carried slick pastel colors.
Jessie had never heard of this side of town.
He wasn’t sure the “new life” promised was worth the uneasiness settling in his stomach.
“Fiona? Dave? I haven’t seen you two in weeks!” Dave covered Jessie’s mouth and pointed up.
“All done.” The sky jerked upwards as a monstrous hand deposited a new resident with a small thud.