Today's free write prompt comes to you thanks to the people at WritersDigest.com:
Today's Writing Prompt: Babies typically talk in babbles that adults can't understand. But one day, while at the park, you're sitting on a bench next to two babies. They start their babbling, when all of a sudden you realize you can understand them. Even more, they are plotting a nefarious plan.
First of all, this is the best prompt I've ever read in my life. hahaha. My response is not so exciting, but at least it's forcing me to write. Apologizes for the first attempt, but let's hope I make progress as I stick with this ;-) So without any further ado...
"Oh yeah, I completely agree with you. The U.S. economy really is in over its head," I notice a far-off and high-pitched voice speaking. I don't really pay too much attention, since I hate politics with a passion and continue reading my trashy fashion magazine.
I live for days like this, as the sun's piercing rays have finally found their way into the early stages of spring. Days like today just make me want to go outside and hope for some small chance of getting some warm glow into my winter-skin. Donning extra large Chanel black-sparkle rimmed sunglasses and a bit of solar bronzing lotion, I don't have to worry one bit about those nasty UVA or UVB rays. My lips form in a small round "O," as a stick of sugar-free spearmint gum makes its way into a hassle of a sticky bubble. Damnit, I hate when it pops and pieces stick to my lips. Hopefully no one saw that. I give a quick look over to make sure that passer-bys walking their dogs and looking for spring chickens continue about their business without gawking at me.
But, someone is gawking right now. And it's not anyone around the vicinity of my splinter-filled little wooden park bench. Nope, I'm the one that can't unglue my eyes from the two infants beside me. They are absolutely adorable! I love babies. Ohh, but not as much as I love this season's new fashions. I wonder if I can find that top in my size... and then stick my nose back into the magazine.
The obnoxious woman continues, ruining my serene spring moment. Honestly, I'd rather hear newborn birds squawking than the remnants of this overly-political argument.
"What we really need to do is get to the heart of the oil companies," I want to say something, but I'm not so sure it's such a wise idea and feign interest in my magazine. All the while, I'm staring blankly at the same photoshoot, unashamedly eaves dropping on this bizarre turn of events.
"Well, how do you suggest we go about doing that," an equally high-pitched male voice responds.
Alright, I'm curious. Were these people taking hits off nitrous-oxide filled balloons just a few moments ago? Craning my neck over to pretend that I'm looking for someone, I take a peek in the direction of the voices.
And then, my gum nearly falls out of my mouth, as the magazine quickly drops to the floor, every single page fluttering open in the light breeze. My hands did not act in this incident.
The voices I hear are coming from the two babies playing in the sand to my left. They don't look any older than one year old, so the ability to be speaking should not yet be in their arsenal of cuteness. Shaking my head, I think that I must be losing it. Too much sun perhaps.
"What we need to do is strike at the government somehow. If we get out of Iraq, the need for oil won't be so high-pressed. And have you been reading the reports lately? We can't possibly be in an oil-shortage if companies are turning the largest profits ever recorded," the girl nonchalantly replies.
What did I eat this morning?! My brain fumbles to remember, but can never accurately get there because of the distraction to my left.
"I say we infiltrate the Dept. of Homeland Security. We should also get some mass propaganda to reverse the war efforts and aim them directly at the CEOs of corporations like Exxon and Shell," the boy interjects his two cents.
"Hmm, brilliant! I could talk to Tommy from daycare, he knows some good hit-babies. If it came down to it, we could snipe off any person who gets in the way of this plan. And Ashley, you know our play date on Wednesdays? Well, her mom works for one of those companies. I can never keep it straight, but that's our in right there!" the girl excitedly rattles off.
Digging through my purse, I find the pen I've been looking for during the past two minutes. Hastily I scrawl some of these notes in my magazine.
I don't know who I can tell about this. Scratch that, it's in my best interest not to say a word, for fear of being accused as a mental case. But it'd be wise to keep an eye out for any further shady information. It's a good thing I know the mother; she's a woman who works in my sister's office.
"Hello Sandra," I yell, waving my hand in her direction, never once taking my eyes off the little ones.
I guess babies aren't so cute after all, are they?
Today's Writing Prompt: Babies typically talk in babbles that adults can't understand. But one day, while at the park, you're sitting on a bench next to two babies. They start their babbling, when all of a sudden you realize you can understand them. Even more, they are plotting a nefarious plan.
First of all, this is the best prompt I've ever read in my life. hahaha. My response is not so exciting, but at least it's forcing me to write. Apologizes for the first attempt, but let's hope I make progress as I stick with this ;-) So without any further ado...
"Oh yeah, I completely agree with you. The U.S. economy really is in over its head," I notice a far-off and high-pitched voice speaking. I don't really pay too much attention, since I hate politics with a passion and continue reading my trashy fashion magazine.
I live for days like this, as the sun's piercing rays have finally found their way into the early stages of spring. Days like today just make me want to go outside and hope for some small chance of getting some warm glow into my winter-skin. Donning extra large Chanel black-sparkle rimmed sunglasses and a bit of solar bronzing lotion, I don't have to worry one bit about those nasty UVA or UVB rays. My lips form in a small round "O," as a stick of sugar-free spearmint gum makes its way into a hassle of a sticky bubble. Damnit, I hate when it pops and pieces stick to my lips. Hopefully no one saw that. I give a quick look over to make sure that passer-bys walking their dogs and looking for spring chickens continue about their business without gawking at me.
But, someone is gawking right now. And it's not anyone around the vicinity of my splinter-filled little wooden park bench. Nope, I'm the one that can't unglue my eyes from the two infants beside me. They are absolutely adorable! I love babies. Ohh, but not as much as I love this season's new fashions. I wonder if I can find that top in my size... and then stick my nose back into the magazine.
The obnoxious woman continues, ruining my serene spring moment. Honestly, I'd rather hear newborn birds squawking than the remnants of this overly-political argument.
"What we really need to do is get to the heart of the oil companies," I want to say something, but I'm not so sure it's such a wise idea and feign interest in my magazine. All the while, I'm staring blankly at the same photoshoot, unashamedly eaves dropping on this bizarre turn of events.
"Well, how do you suggest we go about doing that," an equally high-pitched male voice responds.
Alright, I'm curious. Were these people taking hits off nitrous-oxide filled balloons just a few moments ago? Craning my neck over to pretend that I'm looking for someone, I take a peek in the direction of the voices.
And then, my gum nearly falls out of my mouth, as the magazine quickly drops to the floor, every single page fluttering open in the light breeze. My hands did not act in this incident.
The voices I hear are coming from the two babies playing in the sand to my left. They don't look any older than one year old, so the ability to be speaking should not yet be in their arsenal of cuteness. Shaking my head, I think that I must be losing it. Too much sun perhaps.
"What we need to do is strike at the government somehow. If we get out of Iraq, the need for oil won't be so high-pressed. And have you been reading the reports lately? We can't possibly be in an oil-shortage if companies are turning the largest profits ever recorded," the girl nonchalantly replies.
What did I eat this morning?! My brain fumbles to remember, but can never accurately get there because of the distraction to my left.
"I say we infiltrate the Dept. of Homeland Security. We should also get some mass propaganda to reverse the war efforts and aim them directly at the CEOs of corporations like Exxon and Shell," the boy interjects his two cents.
"Hmm, brilliant! I could talk to Tommy from daycare, he knows some good hit-babies. If it came down to it, we could snipe off any person who gets in the way of this plan. And Ashley, you know our play date on Wednesdays? Well, her mom works for one of those companies. I can never keep it straight, but that's our in right there!" the girl excitedly rattles off.
Digging through my purse, I find the pen I've been looking for during the past two minutes. Hastily I scrawl some of these notes in my magazine.
I don't know who I can tell about this. Scratch that, it's in my best interest not to say a word, for fear of being accused as a mental case. But it'd be wise to keep an eye out for any further shady information. It's a good thing I know the mother; she's a woman who works in my sister's office.
"Hello Sandra," I yell, waving my hand in her direction, never once taking my eyes off the little ones.
I guess babies aren't so cute after all, are they?
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