Tag: Parody

PARODY: Another Day in Parodies By B.A. Sarvey

Word: PARODY
Word Count 500
Another Day in Parodies
By B.A. Sarvey
Leo limped around to the back of his car. He removed what he needed and shuffled to his spot. Years ago, no matter what town he was in, he set up next to the carousel. Gradually, he’d moved away from the crowds, away from the intense sun and hub-bub. Wishing he’d sprung for the cushioned seat last summer, he eased his weight onto the stool, after positioning his easel beneath the old sycamore. “Just another day in par-o-dies,” he thought, tacking up his rogue’s gallery of caricatures.
Seemed like his entire life had become a parody of what a young Leo, fresh from art school, had envisioned. At first, he figured success would come when he was more established—made a name for himself in ever-widening circles. But the widest circle he ever achieved was the carnival circuit. “Talent ain’t nothing if you don’t have PR,” he used to say. Wasn’t sure anymore if he ever had talent.
Winters, the red checkered-clad booth in Mario’s was home. Low lights emphasized the points he needed to exaggerate—big nose, prominent teeth, jug ears (and the other kind of big jugs.) Funny how, if you walked up to a stranger and told him his nose was huge, he’d probably pop you in the nose. But set a Sharpie to paper, draw an enormous schnoz and everybody would laugh, say how you got him perfect. The guy would beam, like you’d done him a favor, calling attention to his imperfection.
Settling himself, Leo reached for a thick black Sharpie, changed his mind, took up a piece of fine charcoal, instead. As he lightly sketched the trunk and branches above his head, Arthur Rackham came to mind. “Now there was an artist,” Leo mused. The sycamore reminded Leo of Rackham’s trees—all twisted and gnarled and alive. Not alive like regular trees are alive—alive like people. Rackham would make witchy fingers reach out at the ends of branches, faces emerge from hollows and swirls of bark. He could make you feel wind whipping and the fear of a child sheltered beneath the tree. And often in the midst of a delicate pen and ink drawing, a pointed pixie face would leer—it would be Rackham. His own little joke, like Hitchcock and his cameo appearance in each of his films. Leo had aspired to Rackham-like greatness. But his following at Mario’s was the closest he ever got to fame. No one would own a calendar illustrated with Leo’s caricatures a hundred years from now.
A warm breeze danced through the sycamore leaves, casting hand-print shadows across his page. Leo no longer heard the skateboard wheels slurring along, the shrill laughter of teenage girls in too-short shorts. Cotton candy sweetness and oily fried dough residue, carried on the wind, no longer caught in his throat. He was miles and years away. The crow sketched in the tree sported Leo’s wizened features. “Leo da Vinci,” he scrawled at the bottom. Someone behind him clapped.

PARODY: Ode to The Donald By Nan Ressue

Word: PARODY
Word Count 179
Ode to The Donald
By Nan Ressue

Trump, trumpet, crumpet,
Your chins are doubling upon it.
Your belly doth rage,
Overflowing its cage,
When on your big buns ye do sit.

Big Macs everyday are the best
Two for you and one for your guest
Fish sticks and fries
Are more fuel for lies,
And they all add more girth to your chest.

The hair do is one of a kind,
It all rises up from behind.
The bare spot is there
Though hidden with care,
The voters say boo with one mind

Only navy blue suits are for you,
Yard-length red ties are always there too.
A Florida tan,
Is just right for the man
Who probably plays golf in them too.

Stir the crowd with some clapping and shout,
Jab the air with your thumbs sticking out.
Make your fish lips again,
It drives us insane,
We all know what you are about.

Your days count one hundred and two,
Your wisdom and skills are too few.
So give up your power,
Go home to Trump Tower,
The Russians are waiting for you.

PARODY: Awakening By Sharon Collins

Week 11 Word: PARODY
Word Count 491
Awakening
By Sharon Collins

Ariadne opened her eyes to the cool caress of the tide tugging at her towel. Eerily, she was all alone. There wasn’t even a seagull sharing Shipwreck Beach…Coming completely and coldly conscious, she realized that it was actually the echoing silence which had awoken her. “Oh my God, I missed the boat!” she cried, to the limestone cliffs soaring above her as panic began to stake its claim. Needing solitude and time to think, she had booked this day-trip, then ensconced herself far away from the rowdy crowds coating the beach in sunscreen. Lulled to sleep by the warm, white sand, the iridescent aqua beauty, and the sleepless nights since his proposal, she had been dreaming of that day, two years ago, when he rescued her from the Minotaur and first asked her out…

Back at Admitting, Ari remembered finding her voice and asking, “How long did it take to memorize this labyrinth of tunnels?”

Smiling, he had pointed to the floor. “ I just follow the red thread…Brilliant don’t
‘cha think? The lines were my idea; I got it from Our myth.”

“Our myth?” she had mumbled, still dizzy from the scan.

“Don’t you remember? Ariadne gave Theseus a spool of red, silk thread. He unwound it as he searched the labyrinth. After he killed the minotaur, he simply followed it back out. Nuclear Medicine is at the end of this red line.” For the first time, Ari noticed the rainbow of painted lines spreading out from the entrance.

“Brilliant,” she agreed. “Has anyone ever guessed your inspiration?”

“Nope, nobody reads Bullfinches or Edith Hamilton anymore,” he sighed. “Well, where would you like to go?” he asked holding the door.

“I’m not sure what you mean. Go where?”

“On our first date, of course. How could Theseus not ask Ariadne out?”

Twenty–two successful rounds of chemo later, she found herself in the Greek Isles. This trip was Theo’s idea, planned and executed to celebrate her clean-bill of health. Complete remission; release from the Minotaur’s embrace. No sacrifice, She. Two indigo evenings ago over strong coffee and baklava, Theo had proposed. When she hesitated, two seconds too long, he ordered two ouzos. Raising his, he vowed, “We’re destined. Our myth demands it.” Knocking back the liquid-fire, he stood. Reaching into his pocket, he placed the blue velvet box on the table. Bending close, he left her with licorice on her lips and a whispered ‘I’ll wait…”

She hadn’t opened the box yet; it was tucked deep inside her backpack, marooned with her on this deserted island. She knew its contents would be beautiful, perfectly paired to her, just like the man who designed it. Theo was her soulmate; no doubt on that score. In fact, there were not doubts on any score. She should say yes. She’d be insane not to say yes. But surviving cancer makes you hesitant; its shadow hovers behind every happiness, a mocking parody of hope.

PARODY: Going Home Sally Madison

Week 11 Word: PARODY
Word Count 348

Going Home
Sally Madison

Lindsey had applied at several schools, but she wanted Los Angles. Otis School of Art and design was perfect. The challenge of the classes, the movie industry, the television industry and fantastic weather, she could not have asked for more.

But now, having graduated from Otis, her priority has changed. Her senior design project was a composite of historical theatrical fashion and she learned to appreciate design, not of the future, but of the past. Her application to the New York Fashion Institute had paid off. They liked her work and asked if she would please come to New York for an interview. Four years ago her mother had a fit when she said that she wanted to leave the Midwest and go to Los Angles. Her mother had said, “Well, at least, it isn’t as bad as New York City.” So how was she going to approach this new development when she reached home.

In LA the music included various genres, but in the Midwest there was only country and a little folk to choose from. The new country music was too much like rock-a-billie for her taste. Give me that old-time stuff that my mother knew as a young woman, thought Lindsey. Driving down the highway in her red Chevy Citation; hair blowing from the wind coming through the open widows, she blasted the country music. The announcer introduced the next song. Lindsey thought ‘no matter what he plays, I will know it.’ “Now a flash from the past”, the announcer continues. The tune starts up. “On top of … Lindsey, living in the moment, belts out, “..Spaghetti….” She jerked her head to look at the radio, like it had made a mistake. “Whoa, that’s not right.” Having heard about the meatball so often in her childhood, she forgot that it was a parody of “On top of Old Smokey”. Laughing at her own mistake, she continues on, louder than the radio, “..it rolled out the door…”

Forgetting about her dilemma for the time being, she immersed herself in the warm comfortable feeling of going home.

PARODY: The Big Break: A Parody by G. Ackman

Word: PARODY
Word Count 475
The Big Break: A Parody
by G. Ackman

“What makes you think you’re the right person for this job?” the man in the perfectly tailored suit asked Edwin Rey, who swallowed against the nausea in his stomach and wiped his sweating hands as discretely as he could on his pants.

“I am the biggest fan of his work, my writing has been published in several magazines and short story collections. I – I know I haven’t done a screenplay yet, but I have written a theatre script which was performed off-Broadway last year.”

“You do realize that this is not a Stephen King work – it is meant to be a parody of his works. You are comfortable with that, are you not?

“Yes, I know I can deliver what you want – and deliver it on schedule.”

The man behind the desk hesitated, shuffled papers, made a few notes. It was probably only about three or four minutes, but to Edwin, it was an eternity. He fought against his stomach again and won – barely.

“Okay, Mr. Rey – you have your chance. But – and I will reiterate this – But – only one chance. If you do not have a completed screenplay to our specifications within ten days, you are out.”

As Edwin Rey left the office, the man in the tailored suit smiled a sinister smile. The side door opened and his assistant walked in. “Do we have him?” “Yes, indeed. Ten days.”

Ten days later, a slightly less nervous Edwin Rey arrived at the office of Castle Rock Films, bound screenplay in his hands and a lightness to his step. He just knew this was going to be his big break. He climbed the stairs easily and confidently, opened the door to the office and gave his name to the receptionist, who smiled at him sweetly and asked him to wait a moment.

“He will see you now” she said silkily as she opened the door to the inner office. The chair was turned to face away from the door. As the receptionist shut the door behind Edwin, the chair slowly turned. It wasn’t the man in the tailored suit. It wasn’t a man at all. The – the – thing (alien went through Edwin’s mind as he struggled to reconcile what he saw with what his mind could process) stood up and approached. One long gray tentacle extended toward Edwin as all the carefully written words fell to the ground in a blizzard of white paper, forgotten now as Edwin knew, in that instant, that his life was over. He could not even manage a scream.

The next day, a nervous young woman approached the office, anxious for her interview. She loved Stephen King books and was excited that this film company needed a screenwriter for an upcoming movie. This would be her big break, she just knew it – an experience that would change her life.

PARODY: The Bogus Parody Spoof (A Tragic Love Story, Only Different) By Ray Shearer

Week 11 Word: PARODY

Word Count

The Bogus Parody Spoof

(A Tragic Love Story, Only Different)

By Ray Shearer

 

Like the song says ‘The night life ain’t no good life, but it’s my life.’ and my life was about to turn upside down.   My clientele comprised the usual P.I. snooping, cheating spouses, or digging up dirt on a witness for some shyster. But tonight the hair on my neck told me different as i opened up the office window to clear the air from a lucky left smoldering in the ashtray. Off in the distance I heard a radio playing a sax riff from Harlem Nocturne.

The door handle twisted. In strolled a tall glass of water. I could see by the cut of her jib that this was no bimbo. This dame was top shelf from her quaffed perm to her long shapely gams.

She smiled “I’M LOOKING FOR REX DIAMOND.”

“YOU FOUND HIM, HOW MAY I BE OF SERVICE?

“MY HUSBAND” she said “HE’S MISSING”

“NAME?” I asked.

“MINE OR HIS?”

“LET’S START WITH YOURS”

“DESDEMOINA FIBTIPTON”, she whispered.

“AND YOUR HUSBAND?”

She mumbled “JOHN”

Stunned I asked “JOHN BHEARS FIBTIPTON THE GIZILLIONARE, WHO GIVES AWAY MILLIONS TO STRANGERS?”

She batted her baby blues, bowed her head and and sighed ” YES AND THERE’S A PHOTOGRAPH— I’M BEING—–BLACKMAILED.

The particulars of this case piqued my curiosity, note to self. raise hourly rate.

Suddenly the door flew open. The bulls burst thru.

“COOL YOUR HEELS DIAMOND, THIS SKIRT POPPED UP ON MY RADAR. SHE’S IN DEEP AND WHY AM I NOT SURPRISED YOU’RE MAKIN COZY WITH HER.

WELL SHE’S OUTTA YOUR LEAGUE DIAMOND. THIS BROAD AIN’T NO FLUSEE. IF SHE’S GOT HER MEAT HOOKS IN YA IT’S CURTAINS FOR THE BOTH A YA.

I put it on the line, “I’VE BEEN HERE ALL NIGHT AND THE LITTLE LADY IS A CLIENT.

  1. FIBTIPTON IS MISSING.”

The copper flashed  a photo,”NOT ANYMORE HE AIN’T. HE’S TOES UP IN THE COOLER AND YOUR TOMATTA’S LOOKIN GOOD FOR IT.”

She shot me a desperate look ” WHY REX AND I HAVE BEEN TOGETHER ALL NIGHT, TELL HIM REX”

I was thinking out loud ” OUTTA ALL THE P. I. OFFICES IN ALL THE TOWNS IN ALL THE WORLD, SHE HAD TO WALK INTO MINE”. I dummied up.

The bull pointed to the photo “HE’S WEARING YOUR DRESS.”

She sobbed “IT’S MY FAVORITE. A COCO CHANALE ORIGINAL. HE HAD NO RIGHT.”

I had to ask “YOU KILLED HIM BECAUSE HE WAS WEARING YOUR DRESS?”

NO She screamed “I KILLED HIM BECAUSE HE LOOKED BETTER IN IT THAN I DID!”

The copper grinned “IT’S CURTAINS FOR YOU SISTER.” He slapped on the bracelets.

” REX DO SOMETHING’ She sobbed “GRAY’S NOT MY COLOR, HORIZONTAL STRIPES MAKE ME LOOK FAT.

REX CAN YOU HONESTLY SEE ME IN DRAB COTTON?”

Off in the distance that radio was now playing midnight serenade. I consulted my old friend Jonnie Red, poured two fingers worth and raised my glass.

“HERE’S LOOKIN AT YOU KID.”

PARODY: Not a Parody By Claire Robertson

Word: PARODY

Word Count: 340

Not a Parody

By, Claire Robertson

They came out of space above a large island.  “That’s Neverland,” said Frozen Flame said.  “And over there is where we live.  The Forever Children, I mean.  We are trying to negotiate a peace treaty with the Lost Boys.  They live on Neverland.”  She took them to a small cave.  She had already explained that this was where all newcomers/visitors had to go first.  “What did you see in the cave, by the way?” Frozen Flame asked.  “It’s usually similar.  People you love dying, people you hate, it’s like they’re all parodies of each other. I mean, really.  Why can’t people have more interesting fears?  Not to be heartless, but it gets annoying to hear about the same things over and over again.”  “Oh.” Minaya said.  “I saw Magnus dying.”  “I saw Jade, the girl who was my mistress.” Saphria said.  Frozen Flame exhaled heavily.  “When did you see, Magnus?” she asked, sounding bored.  “I saw flashes of different things.” Magnus said evasively.  “You’re evading the question, Magnus.  What exactly did you see?  Whatever it was, it can’t be any worse then some of the things I’ve seen.”  “Really?” Magnus asked angrily.  “Well, then can it be any worse then being born with the devil’s mark?  When your ‘father’ flinches at the sight of you, and your mother hangs herself in the barn because of what she made.  When I was 10, my father tried to drown me in the creek!  He knew that my real father was a demon.  I lashed out at him, burned him where he stood.  I went to the Silent Brothers for sanctuary, eventually.  I met a girl in the Silent City.  She was human, but somehow gained magic and immortality.  We became closer then twins, which is what we called ourselves.  Twins.”  His voice became wondering when he was talking about the girl, but then his expression closed.  “But that’s the past.  I’m over it.”  “Oh,” said Frozen Flame softly.  “Well, on a happier note, here’s your first ground-level view of where I live!”