Theme: A smile is the greatest gift one can give. Give your least favourite character a smile.
Limits: Futurama, The Simpsons, Art or Fiction, max 500 words
Start: April 17th
Even the people we like least deserve a little happiness. Lets see a drawing or story about your least favourite character having some simple, innocent fun. Let them smile.
Entries may be posted to this thread or may be posted to competitions@simpworks.com. Please note the start date, though I don't mind people getting a little head start as it means more will take part.
There's a maximum limit on the stories, a little more than a drabble but less than a short. Of course if you go over that you will still be accepted, but I'll frown at you over my pipe.
[Competition] [Theme-a-day] The Smiling
Re: [Competition] [Theme-a-day] The Smiling
Okay...!
- Now this won't hurt me in the least.
if you panic you freeze, if you freeze you crash.
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fellranger
- Senior Technical Supervisor
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Re: [Competition] [Theme-a-day] The Smiling
I can only apologise for this... 
- Attachments
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- NO SHAME.rtf
- No Shame
- (4.75 KiB) Downloaded 1057 times
There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning....
And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting - on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave....
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
And that, I think, was the handle - that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting - on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave....
So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark - that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.
Hunter S. Thompson Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas
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c_nordlander
- Insane Underling
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Re: [Competition] [Theme-a-day] The Smiling
Futurama fic; spoilers for the ending of The Beast with a Billion Backs. Word count: 347.
Character... should be obvious from the pronouns.
The Invention of Time
By Christina Nordlander Dawson
Yivo has not had any awareness of time until now.
How peculiar. Shkler many billion years without sapient company have not been long agony; they have been a blink of empty time. This short space of being connected to other beings, of seeing them run and kiss and argue, has caused the single plate-glass of time to shatter into a thousand multi-coloured prisms, each with further prisms embedded in its facets.
Perhaps it is as well that it is only Colleen, now. An eternity with them all could have fractured Yivo's mind.
Shklee does everything for Colleen. At least shklee tried to, until Colleen snapped and claimed that shklee was spoiling her so that she wouldn't leave. They had an argument about that. Shkler first argument. It lasted eleven minutes and fourteen point three seconds.
Right now, shklee is relaxing shkler mind, listening to Colleen talking. She often talks about her life on Earth, anecdotes from her time in the police force. Humans seem so simple and childlike, it is easy to forget how complex their lives are. Yivo is learning all the time.
“So we went to check out Xoxar's curry restaurant, and you know, the food inspector wasn't kidding. I was about to arrest the owner when we found the human body, but Sergeant O'Leary said he was licensed for it and that we were there about the cockroaches...”
She tosses her honey-blond hair in the way she has adopted to stop it tangling around the tentacle in the back of her neck.
Later, Yivo will send her letters to her parents and boyfriends. She's not in love with them any more, she affirms sometimes, chin set, as if Yivo could possibly be jealous. Then she will sleep. She doesn't have to, here, but she prefers to. She curls up in a downy bed with iron bedsteads that Yivo evokes from vague memories of summers spent at her grandmother's country house, and dreams her brightly-coloured dreams.
And Yivo, who does not sleep, will smile.
THE END
Character... should be obvious from the pronouns.
The Invention of Time
By Christina Nordlander Dawson
Yivo has not had any awareness of time until now.
How peculiar. Shkler many billion years without sapient company have not been long agony; they have been a blink of empty time. This short space of being connected to other beings, of seeing them run and kiss and argue, has caused the single plate-glass of time to shatter into a thousand multi-coloured prisms, each with further prisms embedded in its facets.
Perhaps it is as well that it is only Colleen, now. An eternity with them all could have fractured Yivo's mind.
Shklee does everything for Colleen. At least shklee tried to, until Colleen snapped and claimed that shklee was spoiling her so that she wouldn't leave. They had an argument about that. Shkler first argument. It lasted eleven minutes and fourteen point three seconds.
Right now, shklee is relaxing shkler mind, listening to Colleen talking. She often talks about her life on Earth, anecdotes from her time in the police force. Humans seem so simple and childlike, it is easy to forget how complex their lives are. Yivo is learning all the time.
“So we went to check out Xoxar's curry restaurant, and you know, the food inspector wasn't kidding. I was about to arrest the owner when we found the human body, but Sergeant O'Leary said he was licensed for it and that we were there about the cockroaches...”
She tosses her honey-blond hair in the way she has adopted to stop it tangling around the tentacle in the back of her neck.
Later, Yivo will send her letters to her parents and boyfriends. She's not in love with them any more, she affirms sometimes, chin set, as if Yivo could possibly be jealous. Then she will sleep. She doesn't have to, here, but she prefers to. She curls up in a downy bed with iron bedsteads that Yivo evokes from vague memories of summers spent at her grandmother's country house, and dreams her brightly-coloured dreams.
And Yivo, who does not sleep, will smile.
THE END
Pretty little baby
Pretty little monster
Went to the good school
Left with honours
Brand new tycoon
Sitting with a harpoon
-- Mother Mother, "Business Man"
Now offering writing commissions! Fanfiction or original, PM me for more information.
Pretty little monster
Went to the good school
Left with honours
Brand new tycoon
Sitting with a harpoon
-- Mother Mother, "Business Man"
Now offering writing commissions! Fanfiction or original, PM me for more information.