I Thought This Would Be Hard

For the final novel class of the term, my teacher, who I shall call Monday Esme (I have two teachers I'll call Esme, one for Monday and the other on Friday), instructed us to write a sex scene. Many of us were nervous, and a little shy. I'll have to say that my friend, who I'll call Janet, might have been scared since she writes for children.

But Monday Esme made it easy, and boy did she. The sex scene had to be awkward she tells us, and I thought... I can work with this. So, over the course of a Sunday afternoon, I wrote my scene, which I then read to my mother who couldn't help but laugh. Everyone else who heard it laughed as well, so I thought again... this could work.

Garritt and Stella were giggling, much like young lovers did on their first time. They were rolling around under the sheets, quickly undressing. 'Hurry up with those,' Stella told him. She was ready to slip the condom on him.

'I'm going, I'm going. Why don't you slow down a bit,' Garritt answered.

'I'm never slow, now hurry up. House is on soon!'

'Yeah, yeah.' A few seconds later his underwear were thrown across the room, hitting the cupboard door. 'There, they're off.'

'Oh my God!'

'What the hell is wrong now?'

'Oh my God, Becky!' Stella shouted, getting off of the bed. She wrapped herself up in the sheets.

'What the hell is wrong with you?' Garritt asked, looking needy.

'You're pierced down there?'

'Wha? Oh yeah, I am. Had it for years.'

'How can you be pierced down there?'

'It was a group decision,' he answered, 'now come back to bed. You said you'd do it with me.'

'Not with your little friend like that. What if it... gets hooked on me.'

'It won't. Hasn't happened before.'

'Don't tell me that,' Stella shouted whilst pacing the floor. 'This isn't going to happen mate.'

'Come on!' he whined.

'No! Honestly, why couldn't it be a little tatt saying All Aboard Sailors.'

'Can't get a tatt,' Garritt told her. 'Mum said it was a ring or nothing.'

'You're mum wanted you to get it down there?'

'Nah, she said anywhere was fine by her.'

My Enchanted Flying Elephant

This here is a piece of writing I did for my editing class. Our teacher, who I'll call Esme told us the pieces we'd have written would go into an anthology, but I recently learnt that Esme told us a little phib. To be honest, I didn't mind since I could just blog my work, and I couldn't help but praise Esme on her ability to lie so convincingly. The greatest liars in the world are generally the most honest ones.

Anyway, the prose I had written was meant to incorporate the them "Immunise Your Soul". To be honest, I didn't have much of an idea of what to write, so I just did what I always do when I'm stuck on something, a mindless rant. I hope you readers (if you truely do exist) enjoy this.

Immunise your soul, what the hell? I mean; what am I supposed to do with this, huh, save the damn world? Of course the world needs saving, what with Krispy Kreme and Tom Cruise running around. That man's like a plague, I tell you.

Anyway, that's what I thought when I was given this theme. When I read these three little words, the first thing that popped into my head was 'meh'. I guess I could work with this. We had an 'average' word length and the option of writing prose or a poetry as well.

Big whoop, big whoopity whoop, I thought. This might be a walk in the park for all I knew, or else. When I think of that, I imagine walking through a room overflowing with Paris Hilton wannabes, suitably dubbed Parisites.

However, it just might be an afternoon with the Parisites, simply because I've got no fucking idea as to what 'immunise your soul' bloody means. I thought about it long and hard, on the train, during dinner, when I was delivering newspapers for a ridiculously small fee.

I thought I was screwed, just like Britney Spears every day of the damn week. But then I remembered the one thing that could help me. It was ever so clear and out there, yet I'd overlooked it completely. Guess the brainwashing by Wikipedia is to blame for that, convenient bastards.

I am of course talking about... (wait for it) the dictionary. Oh what a joy it is... to school boys who have no lives to speak of, my friend Ingles, and Malcolm X. Why he copied it out when he was doing time and told his spiritual leader all about it, I'll never know. To be honest, I saw it as more of a lifesaver, except dark blue and in the shape of an oblong.

So, I looked up what the damn theme means, and in short form it means, protect your damn soul you doped-up hippie wanker. I thought: How am I going to do this one? Ever so thought provoking... I thought, and then I thought some more, then I ran away, and then I thought some more.

Then, after having my drink spiked by a back-stabbing family member who knows I don't consume alcohol, I decided I couldn't work with this at all. I mean, something could be done with this theme, by someone else. If I took it I could have turned the human soul into an ostrich egg and shoved it up the arse of a tortoise for protection. A giant tortoise to be exact.

There could be so many ways in which to use this theme, yet I knew of none of them. Madness, that's what I thought about it, and then I thought about ice-cream. Surely there was something out there for my good self, but in the end, there wasn't.

After my long, arduous journey to think up an idea for this theme, I humbly got up on my enchanted flying elephant... which was also a robot if you're wondering, and flew away to escape the plague of destruction Krispy Kreme has in store for us. And then it hit me, why not write about the trouble I had with using this theme.

The writing teachers are always encouraging us to not use cliches, share our little diarrhoer inducing berries, and most importantly, be creative. So that's what I did, and here is what I came up with; a page and a half of mindless dribble that will most likely wind up in a cat's litter box somewhere.

I certainly hope you enjoyed the BS I pulled out of my arse. I know Svnof did... well, not all of it.