Monday, March 16, 2015


Welcome! Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you! If you're reading this the moment it goes live, I'm a bit early, but you'll forgive me, right? Unlike those people who pinch you if you're not wearing green today - no forgiveness there! Those people are so irritating... Speaking of irritating, go check out the prompt and write us something amazing!

If you haven't read the full version of the rules, go here. Otherwise, here's the short version:

1. Start with the given first sentence.
2. Up to 500 words
3. Keep it clean (nothing rated R or above)
4. Optional Special Challenge
5. Stories submitted must be your own work, using characters and worlds that you have created. Sorry, no fanfiction.
6. Include: Twitter/email, word count, Special Challenge accepted
7. The challenge is open for 24 hours on Tuesday EST

Oh, and feel free to change pronounspunctuationtense, and anything in brackets to fit the story/pov/tone. I'm not going to be TOO picky... Our judge however...

Our Judge today is Alicia VanNoy Call, also known as @callthewriter or @dawgpainter. Read her winning tale from last week here! Check out her blog here

Alicia VanNoy Call makes her living as a visual artist, but her first love is the written word. And it was during a bad case of the chicken pox at eight-years old that she discovered the magic of the short story with Ray Bradbury's R is for Rocket. She admires anyone who can turn their hand at a compelling flash fiction. It takes a deft touch to weave something successful in such few words. Her favorite flash fiction of all time? Nicholas Was by Neil Gaiman.

Winner of the 2014 Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers Fellowship, she is currently querying her first novel and drafting her second. When she's not painting, you can find her writing at a coffee shop around the corner, watching a geek movie marathon with her four kids, or reading in the corner. She looks forward to reading your stories. Good luck!

 Your first sentence for FINISH THAT THOUGHT #2-37 is:

[She] was the most irritating person [I] had ever met.

 Your SPECIAL CHALLENGE from the judge is:

Mention one of each: plant, animal, mineral



  1. Florence was the most irritating person I had ever met. Was. That’s the key word there. That woman had been a tease for years. Like she relished torturing me, making me miserable, pointing out what I couldn’t have.

    Oh, the countless times she leaned over my shoulder, her knockers right next to my eyeballs. How was I supposed to not see them? How was that suppose to not be distracting? I used to wake up at night from dreams of finally being able to touch them. Touch them and much more.

    Casual Fridays were torture. She wore jeans. Painted on jeans. Oh, those legs, and those buns! And she walked around all day, those hips swaying, like a damn hypnotists watch. I kept telling myself, “Don’t look! Focus on your work!” But it was useless. I kept seeing her hips moving across my computer screen. I kept seeing those legs that went forever.

    She always walked up behind me, put her arms around my neck, whispered in my ear, “Let’s do lunch.” Hell, I’d have eaten cardboard dipped in chalk just to sit across a table from her, and pray she leaned forward.

    The worst days were when she wore the boots and the leggings. It was like those things weren’t there. They fit every curve of her, showed off every bit of her legs, hips, thighs, butt. I’d get home from work, and have to take a shower. A cold shower.

    Everything would have been OK if she’d have followed through. If she’d have finished what she started. Instead, she always walked away. She bumped my hip in the hallway at least once a week. Her hip swung right into mine. “Oopsie!” She always looked at me with this smile and said, “Control yourself, big fella.”

    Every Friday as we left work, she grabbed my hands, put her fingers between mine, gave me a peck on the cheek, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

    Florence tortured me for years. Anyone could see that. Always hinting. Always teasing. Always staying out of reach. Not anymore. I finally had enough of her torture. She won’t be irritating me anymore.

    Just talking about her and the things she did to me have me all spun up. Made me all hot and bothered again. Those knockers I could never touch. Those hips, those legs, that mouth, those buns. Once they were out of my reach. Not anymore. Now, every time I remember the torture she put me through, I go to my basement. She’s there. Naked. And I can finally do all the things she never let me do. All the things she made me want to do.

    445 Words

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  3. “She was the most irritating person I had ever met. Oh yes, she had seemed lovely when I first met her. So “Oh, it’s so wonderful to meet someone like you.” and “You’re so unique.” But later I realized it was all a ploy.”
    “A ploy, for what?” he asked me, and I blushed, right up the roots of my stiff golden hair. I shrugged and turned around, so he wouldn’t see how upset I had become.
    I realized what it was about her that had attracted me in the first place. Not many people preferred minerals over animals, but she was one. She was in love with rocks and stones - for some reason the color yellow was a big fascination to her. She seemed strong and capable; not a wishy-washy female type at all.
    Later I realized that just because she was a strong woman, didn’t make her less irritating than the rest of them. Her voice was just above the pitch that resonated smoothly, her requests always just one more than I was willing to do, her breasts jutting out towards me so commandingly that I could never ever say ‘no.’
    “I don’t eat plants,” I told her, after we’d been together for a while. And she raised one eyebrow and laughed cruelly. “All you males are alike,” she said. “You’re not special at all, are you?” That laugh made my joints all floppy, my jaw sag, I wanted to lash at her, to hurt her badly. But that too was against my nature.
    If she’d just left me alone, that would have been fine, but she was a woman on a mission. “I’m going to help you,” she said, and although I told her I was fine as I was, she wouldn’t accept that either. “Not a plant eater, really… “ she huffed, “Not to mention that other issue…”
    “What is it now?”
    “Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “But you have, so what the heck is it?”
    She wouldn’t tell me that day, and then suddenly it wasn’t just me she was interested in. Besides her dog, a small yipping fellow, there was another hunky type that started to hang around with us. I didn’t really warm up to him, and certainly the competition was quite unwelcome.
    As time passed, I realized that even if she were to ‘save me’ so to speak, I would lose her. Either to the hunky guy or to the past she hankered for. And yet, she urged us both on and no matter what I said or did, she just kept pestering me till I got up and followed her, wherever she went. Really, I felt such a fool.
    “So how did it end?” he asked, my best buddy, my squeaky friend.
    “Ach, you know, as they all do, I’m not worth much, after all, with all this straw falling out of me all the time.”
    488 words
    by Audrey Gran Weinberg

  4. She was the most irritating person I had ever met. The girl had a flower pattern stitched on her backpack. She waited by the cigarette tower thingy, one foot planted, the other bent so only her toes touched the ground. I could see she had half a beer. The student-alumni mixer was starting to break up...the pizza was slow coming out of the kitchens and people were starting to pay cash at the bar for extra drinks because their tickets had run out. The girl had sat at my table earlier while I was eating a salad. The vice president of the school had spoken for five minutes from a little podium.

    "Don't talk to people you know. For the next hour I'm going to play hall monitor and if I see you talking to someone you know, I'm going to say 'Stop it. Talk to someone you don't know. Cut the shit'."

    The girl idled, twirling the ends of her hair with her fingers. I didn’t look up but I could feel her staring at me. She edged closer. I took a sip from my drink. She finished hers. I tried and failed twice to unlock my phone. She was just bending down to say hi when someone tapped on her shoulder.

    "I like the flower pattern on your backpack. Hi, I'm Ken," said the vice president. I tiptoed away.
    230 words
    by Nick Hoins

  5. Foy S. Iver
    WC: 496
    Special Challenge Accepted


    He was the most irritating person Viktoria had ever met. Tidy as a nesting mother with a mouth that exploded diarrheal worries, he caused more heartburn than a Hogspore sandwich lathered in Chili Sauce. Even his face, pasty except for red, flaring nostrils and those soggy blue eyes, was irritating. Still, she couldn’t just let the Granite Monsters fling him, tissues and all, into the volcano’s mouth.

    “Barkin’s Beard, how I put up with you?” The words squeezed through gritted teeth but she buckled her Berretta 950 around wide hips, tied her braid into a blue knot, and whistled at the Lemureaux preening itself on the floor of the hover craft.

    “Coggs, you ready?” Her samurai arm sang as she pulled away the protective sheath. Coggs chirped, bright eyes wide, before scampering to her left shoulder. His tail wrapped like a black choker around her neck. She flicked the Self-Determination switch and the hoover craft whirred into awareness.

    “Came crawling back did you?” A male voice vibrated from speakers in the walls of the cabin.

    “I don’t have time for this, Geoff.” Pinching off a Brierbush leaf, she inhaled its minty essence before tucking it into her breast pocket.

    “Drop us off at the north face, Geoff, and then keep close.” She braced herself in the doorway, leaning on her right arm above the prosthetic, off kilter. “This might be a harry extraction.”

    “As you wish it.” The hoover craft wheeled right, descending.

    Viktoria squinted until her prize came into focus. His mouth was as wide as the volcano’s and even at that distance she could see he was a blubbering mess. Irritation snaked up from her belly.

    “You better be worth this, McGinnis.”

    The crags and gulches loomed faster, closer.

    Cogg’s tail tightened around her throat like a noose.

    She crouched and her knees creaked.

    "Not as young a Scavenger as I used to be but that doesn’t mean I want to kick it here, McGinnis.”

    Black pores of rock glared at her.


    Her heart bore down on itself.

    Adrenal glands opened.

    She jumped.

    Coggs clutched her mess of indigo hair as she landed first on her feet then on her backside, banging into solid mountain.

    “Holy miracle cream!” She cursed, fumbling to her feet. “You’re already NOT worth this!”

    They were coming up the path, so close now, McGinnis tossed over stony shoulder. His hair, orange like fake cheese, screamed almost as loudly as he was. If the Granite Monsters had ears, the one wrangling him would have some serious acoustic trauma.

    Coggs jumped to a neighboring ledge, baring diamond-crunching teeth. Viktoria planted her feet in the gray soot, samurai sword fixed on the first creature’s ebony chest.

    “Hey, Sand-Breath!”

    The procession paused, McGinnis flailing.

    A smirk teased the corner of her mouth. She’d handled Rock-Walkers before and as irritating as he was, McGinnis didn’t deserve to die for his rock collecting fetish.

    “Put my kid brother down.”

  6. The Slayer of the Undead

    Simon was the most irritating person Jesus had ever met.
    “Simon,” Jesus said again, louder. The group of Undead poured into the sanctuary, leaping on and tearing to pieces the men those closest to the broken doors. Meanwhile, Simon was heading for one of the side exits, ignoring the screams of dying men. Just like old times.

    “That—that Simon? Impossible,” Pastor Tim sputtered, ringing his hands.

    “Once a coward,” Jesus sighed. His hand closed around the hilt resting between his shoulder blades as he began striding across the stage. The boy who had brought him water moments before backed away now, but he didn’t look nearly as frightened as his father, the Pastor.

    Jesus slid the sword out of its scabbard. The blade was only a foot long and ended in a ragged broken edge. That didn’t matter though. The power of the Wardens coursed through his body, the power to Heal.

    He stepped past the podium, and the podium exploded into splinters. Those splinters whirled around Jesus, then his sword, bonding to the steel and extending the blade out it was longer than most men were.

    Several people gasped, those too dumb to realize they should run. These were the people who ‘worshipped’ him? Gods, no wonder they were so unprepared. Jesus was of a mind to leave them, let them slow down this advance vanguard.

    And then he felt the boy beside him.

    “Hayden, is it?” Jesus asked, stalking down the steps.

    “Yes sir, I want to help.” Hayden’s voice was shaky, but strong.

    Jesus smiled. Of course the boy wanted to help. He felt old blood beating in the veins of the lad, old familiar blood. Judas, maybe? That would be a relief, to know his brother had survived his sacrifice.

    “Help by getting those out of here,” Jesus said, nodding to his left. It seemed more of the elderly had gathered there, and were staring dumbfounded first at Jesus, no doubt a spectacle in his leather armor, and then at the Undead who were feasting on their ‘brothers and sisters.’

    “Yes sir,” the boy said and dashed off, already yelling at people to follow him. Good. As for the rest… it was time they learned the true meaning behind ‘Lion of Judah.’

    Wood and steel sword held at his side, Jesus sprinted down the center aisle. Several rotting heads looked up, giblets and gore dangling from swollen jaws, but they were too slow. He leapt into the air, bringing his now-massive blade up and over his head, then down, right into the center of the mass of bodies.

    The sword exploded outwards in bright fibers, but immediately it remade itself, out of bones and flesh, and Jesus struck again. The blade arced high and came down with enough force to crack stone. Body parts, both human and Undead, flew outward and coated what was left of the congregation.

    Two thousand years was a long time, but it was a new day. A dark day.

    499 words

    P.S. This may be fanfiction? I don't know, but I saw that bit after I wrote this whole thing out, and it drained me, lol. If it doesn't meet the qualifications I understand, but it was still a blast writing it! (It's part of something else, just from another POV.)

  7. @jaimeburchardt
    Word Count: 405


    Addison was the most irritating person I had ever met.

    It also didn’t help that she was my roommate for a while.

    She was always a bonafide menace; a terror to my personal space. The apartment we shared was big enough but nope, wherever I was, she was there too. “Whatcha reading?” “Whatcha cooking?” “Why did you give me my own Netflix profile? Why can’t we share yours?”

    All up in my space!

    But the last straw was the night she brought home the needle.

    Alyssa started working out at the time, getting in shape. Not that that’s bad, but any feelings of admiration and pride were dashed every night when she’d come home and take off her sweaty clothes, right in front of me. Followed by the physical motion of throwing them on the floor. Never mind I the fact that I had just mopped that area, again! All of that was annoying, but then one night she walked--no, scratch that--she hobbled in.

    “I think I’ve got a blister on my toe! You have to check!”

    She didn’t give me any time to reply. She saw me sitting on the couch watching tv and bam!...within seconds her shoe & sock was off and she laid down the law that was her huge foot. The aforementioned blister, though? Even bigger, and it was right smack on her big toe.

    “Yeah, that’s a white angry blister, all right” I said.

    “You have to pop it!” she yelled as she whipped out a sewing needle from behind her back.

    “Wait---how did you get that so fast?”

    “Pain! Foot! Pop now!”

    Did I mention her lack of patience? I’ll give you another example. She didn’t wait for my response. She was so flustered by the pain that instead of handing me the needle, like a person, she threw it at me, like a crazy. And it landed right on my eyebrow. Follow that with me running around the living room screaming “Get it out!” while she chased me on a hopping foot. Apologies were exchanged, a ride to the hospital were given out, and sanity was gut-punched.

    So yes, she was my roommate. I moved out the following week. And then...I missed her. I don’t know why to this day. I came back, told her that, and we’ve been married for six years.

    Don’t ask me what happened in between that week and now. I can’t remember.

  8. Jenny’s Enemy

    He was the most irritating person Jenny had ever met.

    He knows nothing about honor, discretion or justice. But what he does know he is willing to use.

    He knows who she is. He knows what she does, when she does wrong. He knows how she thinks, when she thinks wrong.

    He knows every mistake she has ever made, and he enjoys telling her, reminding her, and making her doubt herself.

    He is not above blackmail. He is willing to practice manipulation. He wants nothing more than to control her.

    Jenny wants to be free of him, but has no idea what to do.

    She cannot go to the police. She has no description of him nor crime to report.

    She cannot run away, because he will be wherever she goes, before she arrives.

    She needs a change, an alternative to him.

    She needs a hero, a gladiator to defeat him.

    She needs a savior, someone capable of braking the chains between her world and his.

    Then Jenny met someone who changed everything.

    She learned exactly who he was and wasn’t willing to play his games anymore.

    She learned ancient words of wisdom to block his every action.

    She had a powerful friend, a strong hero to enable her to change. She had a gladiator who was capable of beating him down if he stepped out of line. She had a savior who crossed effortlessly between their worlds, but restricted his own travel.

    She became one of the most irritating people he ever knew, when she met Jesus.

    258 words