Liver Lover
Paul drew his laser gun and aimed it around the room. He was checking out each object carefully. Where was the Mutant Traitor, he wondered? It could be anywhere. He had to find it quickly or there would be a panic in the building. Everything looked normal. Several people were reading quietly at different tables or going about their business.
Time was running out. It was almost time for the bell to ring and soon the group of writers meeting in the library would be going home. In all the confusion the Mutant Traitor might escape outside and it could be months before it’s trail found again.
Where is it, Paul wondered for the hundredth time? I’ve got to spot it before someone else gets hurt. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and ran down his face. He used his sleeve to wipe the moisture away from his eyes. Paul would just have to wait and see if the Mutant Traitor fell for the trap.
Tommy and Lily were near the door conversing with DeAnn.
Just then Jane strolled across the room. She headed straight for the snack table and stopped near her friend Sid, who offered her a cookie from the platter.
Nikki and Bryan, took turns fillings cups at the punch bowl. Bo brought a stack of napkin and laid half near the cookies and hesitantly laid the other half near the plate of raw chicken livers. Yuck, he thought to himself. I wonder if I ought to throw those away. Disgusting!
Madison joined the group clustered around the table. He reached his hand out towards the chicken livers. Paul finger tightened on the trigger then relaxed it, as Madison pushed the bowl away.
A small stage was set up in the middle of the room and their teacher, Ms. Helen, lifted a microphone off a stand. “Who wants to go first reading your poetry,” she asked? When no one raised their hand, Ms. Helen continued, “You’ve all worked hard on your poems and you should be proud.
We have plenty of time for everyone to read. By the end of the year this will seem easy. If you’d like to we can invite your parents and a handful of friends to listen to what you have written. How about you, Elly, would you like to go first?” Elly shook her head, so Ms. Helen asked Jean next.
Jean noticed Cydia walking through the door and motioned her forward. Cydia dashed across the room, set her book-bag on the stand and took the microphone. She recited her poem, Shadow on the Wall, from memory and then handed the microphone back to Ms. Helen before crossing to the table for a drink.
“Thank you Cydia, who’s next?”
Norma raised her hand. “I have a humorous poem I wrote last night….
“Good, come on up, Norma.” Ms. Helen knew from experience some writers had to be encouraged more than others, so she motioned to Marge to see if she wanted to be next.
As Norma moved across the room towards the stage area, Paul glanced back to the table. He noticed that half the raw livers were gone. Quickly he swung the laser around and the book-bag in front of Cydia suddenly disintegrated.
Screams vibrated off the walls. Just then the students nearest the table noticed the long, slimy, tentacle, still clutching a liver, in the punch bowl. They ran to Ms. Helen, who gathered the students around her.
Paul climbed down from the balcony, grabbed the tentacle stuffed it into a silver bag strapped to his waist. Paul was greeted with cheers as he carried the silver bag outside to be disposed of. Peace settled over the school building as the news spread rapidly. At last the mutant traitor had been destroyed.
The End
This story was written during a writing class at the Shepard Center in Wichtia. We were allowed only 15 mintues to complete a story from begining to end. We could write on any topic or use any form we wanted, with the only other instrution given was to use everyones names present in the classroom somewhere in the storyline.
If ever faced with writers block this method of silly writing can be a way of breaking free. Give it a try, it can be fun. In this case it was my way of killing the inner voice (or the Mutant Traitor) that was telling me I'd never write anything worthwhile.