WHY NOT INDEEDA spoon clinked on glass. The guests babbled louder, if anything, and Ransom escalated. Glass shattered; heads turned.
'Gentlemen,' he said, tweaking his bow tie as spilt wine pooled at his feet. 'Gentlemen. Allow me to divert your attention for a moment. You see—' he cocked an eyebrow '—I have a proposal to make.'
A hooded soldier at the back of the room stopped punching women for a moment to shout: 'Get to the point, nerd!'
Ransom adjusted his top hat and cleared his throat. 'Yes. Right. Well: as you're all quite aware, of course, I am something of a writer.' He pronounced the word in the way other people might pronounce "royalty" or "helicopter stuntman". 'Just what do I write about, I hear you ask? Why, gentlemen—today the answer to that question is in your hands! Ideas, bold or trifling, lend me yours and I'll write about them all!'
A fire in the shape of a man leapt forward. 'WRITE ABOUT US!' it boomed, its breath searing Ransom's brow. 'ABOUT US!'
'Write about him!' said an enormous floating tab key. 'Give him a cool sword!'
Ransom had enough time for a feeling of awful, yawning regret to well up in his gut before a coyote pounced him yelping to the floor. 'Day of the Triffids,' the animal snarled. 'Gulliver's Travels. Futurama. Game of Throooones . . .' Drool spattered Ransom's face. Wrenching himself free he started shoving his way through the crowd. They pressed in, monstrous limbs snatching at his suit. He felt his top hat slapped off his head.
The intercom blared feedback; their dictator, as always, had been listening. 'BRUCE WILLIS,' the pitch-shifted voice intoned, 'AT A MID-PRICED RESTAURANT.'
'No,' Ransom breathed, backing up against a wall. A toothless face leered out of the plaster. He staggered away with a shout but a skeleton in a trenchcoat knocked him back. 'Football with guns!' the wrinkled face yammered. 'They're slaves! Guns!'
'A man who lies!'
A grey cat latched onto his face. 'Frontier Psychiatrist! Frontier Psychiatrist!' it hissed.
'Tackling with guns!'
'He wants to tell the truth because of promotions but he lies!'
'Gulliver's Traaaaavels . . .'
Ransom began to cry, scrabbling on the floor for his hat. Faces swarmed in, Cheshire-cat grins splitting their twisted lips. 'Please,' he whimpered, tears streaming down his cheeks. 'Please. I'm sorry—'
'YES,' the intercom chuckled. 'WHY DON'T YOU WRITE ABOUT IT.'
so like an idiot i let the original thread expire so here's a recap for posterity (don't y'all worry i noted down your ideas before the thread expired):
HERE'S THE DEAL. i'd like you guys to throw some story premises at me - any subject or genre - and i'll bash them into <1000 word stories and post the finished product. be as silly or as serious as you like. try to keep them short: one sentence per idea if you can manage it.
disclaimer: i can't make any promises about quality, naturally. i'll be working these into my daily writing routine so i'm not going to be doing much polishing. i'll do my best to entertain but ultimately the only goal is to write.
they're all going to be a bunch of fun to write, thanks guys!