“I quite agree Peter. It looks ghastly. When I created the sun and the moon and the stars and…. What’s the name of that planet Peter?”
“Earth sir. It was one of your speedier creations.”
“That’s right, Earth. Well, when I created that place and its people I didn’t think they would end up littering space with their satellites and space stations. It’s all too much. Something needs to be done.”
“What did sir have in mind? Destroy the planet maybe? Start again with a race that is not so technically minded?”
“I am inclined to obliterate the place and start again. The trouble is I’d have to go to the other Gods if I wanted to start all over again. Such hard work getting these ideas through committee. No, we need a simpler solution.”
“What about getting rid of the clutter instead sir. I could pop out tonight and cut the strings tethering them to Earth. They would then simply drift away.”
“Excellent idea Peter! I don’t know what I’d do without you. Sounds like fun. I might even join you. Can you lend me a pair of scissors?”
An unusual writing challenge at Chris Fielden’s site. To write a 100 word story with as many adverbs in it as you can manage. Every 100 stories he gets he is publishing as an anthology and any money raised is going to First Story.
Terribly Tasty Torso
Claire wishfully looked at Dave’s beautifully sculpted body, laid out lifelessly on her mum’s bed. Unabashedly, she gracefully ran her stylishly manicured fingers through the hairs on his manly chest. “Such a waste,” she muttered mournfully.
“Can’t be helped,” said her mother briskly, in a ruthlessly matter of fact voice. “Regretfully our needs heavily outweigh his. Are you ready?”
Claire nodded remorsefully. Staring at Dave’s brutally battered body, she hungrily parted her lips exposing two extremely sharp fangs. Her mother briskly stepped alongside her. Quickly and effortlessly the women savagely tore at the terribly tasty torso in front of them.
“Good work Jones. We know this Goldilocks character is responsible for the Dumpty murder and the massacre of the Bear family and I’d bet my pension she knows what happened to the Gingerbread Man. All we need now is to find out who her boss is. Anybody with her?”
“Yes sir. The owner of the black car parked out front went up to her room five minutes ago. The car’s registered to a Miss Muffet.“
“Miss Muffet! It can’t be. What the hell is the head of MI6 doing here?”