Tonight I Watch...and Theme Challenge!

Hey guys! Sorry,  I know I should have announced the Theme Challenge winner earlier. But in my defense, I was kind of hoping someone else would enter. Imaginers, where's the spirit? I only got three entries!

The random name picker chose the winner as...drumroll please...


Here's her story:

This is as story about ice cream pie. An assortment of snowmen tucked behind the sagging shed which slouched in someone's backyard. If a windstorm had combed through their midst, they would've hardly blinked an eye. These were stoic spheres of crystalized water. 

This is also a story about pie. The before mentioned snowmen lasted days without nourishment, but they desperately yearned for pie. Juicy, gooey, and sweet.

And warm. Pie is warm.

Which was the problem. According to witnesses, pie(straight-from-the-oven-pie) and snowmen don't mesh. Who'd have thought, right?

Now, one particular snowman named Flynn resolved to end the injustice done to snowmen's restrictive diet. 

So Flynn brainstormed all the cold and chilly substances his brain could think of. 

"Ice cubes?" he'd ask himself. "No."

"Frozen vegetables?" And then, after a pause, "certainly not."

"Yogurt?" And after a slightly longer pause, "no".

"Ice cream?" 

And thus, was the birth of ice cream pie.

This story is super creative! I love the part where Flynn is brainstorming, the cheerfully sarcastic "According to witnesses, pie(straight-from-the-oven-pie) and snowmen don't mesh. Who'd have thought, right?", and the poetic first paragraphs. Meredith, you've got talent! 

And now, of course, for the next theme challenge. Same rules, and the deadline is the end of February. Your phrase is:

Eloquent Bliss

Have fun! 

And now about tonight I watch...we're watching Sherlock: The Abominable Bride tonight! EEEE!!!
I will be watching 2 1/2 hours of Sherlock with delicious treats. I know, I know I have the best life.

Well, cheerio Imaginers! Gotta fly!


  1. Yay!

    Aww, thanks for liking my story! I wasn't too happy with it to be honest, but oh well. :)

    "Eloquent Bliss" sounds very promising; I'll try to write a post to recommend the challenge sometime soon.

    (And enjoy Sherlock!)

  2. I'm kind of having fun with this. I'll give "Eloquent Bliss" a try.

    Aida worked in a five-story apartment building in the heart of the dingiest, most disreputable spot in New York, for an obscure little magazine called "Wanita". She had been working there for five years; for two years she had been tactfully badgering her boss, Mr. Floyd, to give her a raise. Finally, he offered her a deal.
    "If you can come up with a name for the new perfume we've got – something that sounds Eloquent – I'll give you a raise," he promised before closing his office door.
    Aida thought about it all day . . . and all night . . . she kept a bottle of the perfume on her desk and sniffed it periodically for inspiration. Mr. Floyd's description, "Eloquent", bounced around inside her head. It must be something eloquent.
    On the fourth day, she hurried to Mr. Floyd's office.
    "I've got it!" she told him. "How about . . . Eloquent Bliss?"

    1. Nice! I love the adjectives-you can really picture the offices of "Wanita".

  3. This looks fun :) Here's my entry! Do you like it?

    “I wouldn’t mind dying in a place like this.” Ray sank into the enormous plush armchair, an eloquent picture of total bliss. He balanced a bowl of candy on one knee as he shoved his baseball cap to the back of his head.
    I had to laugh. “That’s all you can say?”
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Well, for one thing, Ray, we happen to be here for a job interview.”
    “Oh, yeah, that’s right. The surroundings gave me a momentary brain lapse.”
    “So will you please straighten up and look a bit more professional.” I swiped the bowl of candy off his knee and slapped it back on the immaculate marble coffee table, jerking his baseball cap off at the same time.
    “Knock it off, Lilly, can’t you?” He grabbed another piece of candy. “Besides, it’s not a job interview, not really, anyway. We’re just going to work for dear old Uncle Albert.”
    “Dear old Uncle Albert, as you call him, is a perfectionist and believes that it’s a sin to wear anything less than a three-piece suit to work. And you know it.” I tugged at the collar of my shirt. The summer heat was stifling, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
    “Yes, well, we’re just going to be taking care of the place and the dogs while he’s gone anyway, so I don’t see why it matters.” Ray got up and strolled over and plucked a white porcelain cat off of a bookshelf. “I bet this ol’ cat here cost two thousand dollars, Lilly.”
    He spun around, tossing it from hand to hand like a baseball. “This is going to be the best summer of our lives. Just you wait.”
    “Ray, stop tossing the cat.” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. “Uncle Albert will be coming any moment – oh!”
    The china cat fell from Ray’s hand and sped towards the floor. A million shards flew into the air, landing in a tinkling shower around his feet.
    The big double door at the end flew open and a trim little man strode into the room. He glared daggers in our direction, his hands on his hips. “WHAT just happened?”
    I gulped, and looked wildly over at Ray. He stood among the wreckage, stunned.
    Somehow, I had the feeling that this might not be our best summer, after all.

    1. I love it, Rosie! It sounds like it would be even better if it was in a full book. You can really see the characters in your mind when you read it.

    2. Aw, thanks!! It could be a book, couldn't it? I think I would make it so that they thought they would hate strict old Uncle Albert, but then they actually get to be really good friends with him :D

  4. By the way, I'm still planning to post an entry soon, I just haven't yet:) Did you see the post I wrote recommending the challenge?

    1. Yes, I did! I can't wait to read your next story.

  5. K, here goes(I'm not really sure how closely it sticks to the theme, but the words "eloquent bliss" triggered this story, so I'm going to use it :D):

    It was a dusty old thing. Not much seen; much less touched. Mum said the white was graying and the black had chipped. And apparently they had danced fingertips across it in the old days. But those times have passed.

    Sometimes I'd grope up the disintegrating stairs and pass under the squat, empty doorframe, and slip into its stiff, vacant, wooden bench. It would creak. Then I'd find a key(always minor), and release the muscle memory.

    You know, even pianos can be eloquent. And even blind music-enthusiasts can experience bliss.

    1. I love it, Meredith! Like Rosie's story, it seems like it would make a good full book.


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