November 2013

The week’s winner should come as no surprise. An eggcellent entry hatched from a bright, and eggxtreme  mind. Congratulations to Cory O’Neile! Make sure to check out the next award. The BROKEN BAD. For those of you struggling to write humour, this is a great way to have a laugh at your own expense.        

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A stick snapped under my foot, and five ostrich heads jerked up from where they’d been pecking for food and stared at me with beady black eyes. I froze. I suppose you could call it a mid-life crisis. Well, not exactly mid-life, since I’m only 25, but definitely a crisis. I’d gotten out of college with a degree in business almost 3 years before, and I’ve been working nothing but dead-end jobs since then. Then I heard that basically anyone can apply to be on Reality TV shows. I found a way to apply through the internet, and signed up for all the big ones: Blind Date, Survivor, Fear Factor (I’ll eat a bug if it gets me a huge check), even The Bachelorette, although I find the idea of …

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Greg wanted a solid silver toast rack. Kate did not want a toast rack, any toast rack. The pearled octogenarian stood in front of them holding a 183 gram, solid silver, four-slice Edwardian toast rack. One wanted to purchase it, the other wanted to leave the shop and have an argument about how much they didn’t need to purchase it. That wasn’t the end, or even the beginning of the end, but it was something, and there was an end… ‘Where’s the coffee?’ asked Kate. Greg pointed to the cupboard above the sink. ‘In the bespoke Victorian hand painted ceramic coffee caddy.’ Kate was perfectly content with the foe chrome airtight canister from IKEA and didn’t appreciate the coffee’s new home. ‘Jesus Greg. You can’t just keep buying crap.’ ‘It’s …

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“So, what do you think?” Paige asked, chewing her nails as she watched her latest work being scrutinized.  Tara, the young pregnant woman who had hired her, stared speechless at the mural on the wall, opening her mouth and then closing it a few times, weighing her words carefully before speaking. “Well, um Paige it’s….I mean, it’s great.  You’re really so talented.  But…I don’t understand.  This is not what we discussed.  I just wanted a simple painting of Humpty Dumpty, but this…” The mural in question was a very disturbing depiction of a man lying prone next to a graffiti-covered brick wall on a sidewalk littered with empty whiskey bottles and other trash.  He had a gaping head wound, and his face was frozen forever in a look of abject …

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Maya was on her way to the wizard’s shack, deep in the woods. She was hoping the ancient mage would be able to save her mother from whichever sickness she was suffering. Maya didn’t look forward to meeting him, as there were so many rumors. But recalling how fragile and almost transparent her mother had looked, she clenched her jaws and continued. Finally, she arrived at a dirty old shack. Crouched before it was the strangest man Maya had ever met. He was old, with a long grey beard, dressed only in maple leaves, and digging in the soil with his bare fingers. Maya knew she had found the wizard. When she approached, the old man noticed her and rose. “Welcome, fresh sapling, welcome to my humble abode. My name is …

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From the moment I sprang free from my mother’s back room, I’ve always wanted to be something special. The sun was shining and the sky was blue that day, and I was nestled in a little bed of hay. Life on the farm, you know how it is. The day I was born, my mother was so overjoyed she sprang from where she lay and sprinted around the room. I tend to have that effect on people. Of course, I’m an egg. They say of eggs that we can’t do anything. That we don’t have any arms or legs. That we can’t move of our own efforts. You know what I say to that? Bollocks. Because eggs – especially me – are extremely versatile. Just the other day I managed …

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I have to explain everything to her. But should you? Better late than never, right? She will – I know she won’t forgive me. Make an excuse. Say you couldn’t make it. Too late now. She agreed to meet with me at 10:00, in front of her favourite restaurant, ‘CelebrATE’. The time is 9:56. I am here, sitting on this jagged wooden bench (which is digging into my bottom) in front of the restaurant. More importantly, I am early. I am trying to make a good impression. Is this going to work? What other option do I have? I spot her. She is getting off the bus. That same cream lace dress and red heels. She wore the exact same outfit when we first met. At a family barbeque. She …

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As a child, growing up in North East England in a small industrial town named Stockton-On-Tees I never thought of ghosts as strange or weird in any way shape or form (pardon the pun). My parents managed to knock out any predilection I had towards the spiritual and/or ghostly world well and truly–probably due to their own inbuilt terror of all matters nonphysical. If it couldn’t be seen, touched or observed by the majority of the population then quite simply it didn’t exist. It didn’t help that I unwittingly talked to the previous property owner, who to all intents and purposes was actually deceased. As a small child I had absolutely no thought or consideration that this woman was technically dead as a doornail, although I did think at the …

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My old mate Frankie was better known as “that guy”; apart from me, no one noticed him. He is the kind of person who would blend easily into a crowd. Therefore I was surprised when “that guy” told me he is “the guy” who is currently dating my sister. “Are you kidding me?” “Of course not,” he said. “I won’t joke about it.” “Then you are a pedophile.” “Come on… she might be twelve years younger than me, but she’s not an underage girl,” he said. “She’s eighteen.” “It doesn’t change the fact that she was still crawling when we were studying for O Level.” “But what do you think, she and I?” “Honestly? It’s like hearing your Golden Retriever telling you he wants to wear Bugs Bunny boxer,” I …

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On a cold and stormy night Mrs Emily Featherbone stood at the edge of her bedroom balcony overlooking the sea. Goosebumps licked her porcelain skin beneath a translucent pearl slip and the wind danced in her long red hair. She felt a sudden rush as the waves crashed beneath her, spraying a fine mist into the air, soaking her right through. “Emily, what are you doing out there? Are you trying to catch a cold?” asked Maria, a young Spanish maid. “Of course not, I’m thinking about Richard. It’s rough out there.” “Only one more night and he’ll be home. Hopefully with the treasure he’s been desparately seeking.” “There’s something about the raging thrust of the sea and the full roundness of the moon that takes over me like an …

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‘Of course! This is the most premium, genuine counterfeit Rolex you can get and I’ll give it to you for $100. At that price these watches have been leeching across to the city like a bad red wine stain on a white shirt.’ ‘I don’t really know,’ said the man with massive beads of sweat slipping down his face and creating the most alarming wet patches on his shirt. ‘Lookyou’re probably a single, slightly overweight man who’s just trying to find a half-way decent looking woman to cook your dinner every night. So your best bet is to wear the bling to attract the chicks. Take the watch, surely that’s a bargain!’ The man spluttered and his stomach rolls jiggled as his face turned to a look of outrage, ‘Forget …

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  Yu couldn’t help eyeing the shiny new robots in the midst of flying feathers. FE-56 and four of its colleagues have already plucked over seventy chickens each in the last twenty minutes. He tried not to stare because, like those artificial Dobermans, the newer farming/construction models didn’t like that. There was shouting and jeering from the outside, which continued to intensify. “They were not friendly when we arrived. What are they protesting for?” queried FE-56. Its voice was deep but soothing. “Something about the rights of chicken eggs,” Yu shrugged, then waved, “Pfft… freakin’ college students.” At least twenty men were gathered at the mouth of the docking bay. They were there initially to see the new robots arrive from Ilithiapolis Industries. After all, that doesn’t happen every day. …

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I looked at the clock and swore softly, late again. I got out of bed and dressed in the bright orange uniform and raced out the door. My first stop was a beautiful apartment in Recoleta to meet Henri. I rang the doorbell which was immediately followed by a loud barking. The door swung inwards and Carolina appeared graceful as ever. “You are late.” “Sorry.” Carolina passed the lead over to me and an excited Henri jumped to greet me. I batted him lightly on the nose and he dropped back to all fours. “I will see you at ten,” Carolina said closing the door. I stuck my tongue out at the closed door and then looked down. “Right Henri, let’s go!¡Vamos!” We were off. I continued my pick-ups around …

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