Write as many paragraphs as you like using the words above.
(Forget the photo, it's just to showcase the words.)
Entries may be poetry, prose, fiction, essays or interviews.
(or any other form of creatively written expression.)
Just be funny, clever and theological...
monkey number island prisoner
ReplyDeleteJim was the only man on the Island of Patmos who was not a prisoner. Even so, he could not count the number of times the prison wardens called him a monkey and made him work anyway. At this point, however, he was so used to it that he barely flinched at the word "monkey" and even yawned.
Dat story touched me heart.
Delete
ReplyDeleteMr. C. at Monkey Island
"Monkey Island, day 24," I.M.A. Calminian mumbles. "I'm prisoner number 5. Open Theists have us captured. Today I am going to escape."
Eee, five - like the five points of Calvinism!
"What's for dinner, man!" Ignatius yells outside the bars of the door.
"I don't know!" laughs the guard. "But I'm sure it'll be good!"
Man, these guys are sick customers...
Bonk! To Ig's surprise, his guard was knocked out cold - and a masked man was responsible, dressed in military fatigues and a tactical vest, a black "C" on his same but lighter colored helmet.
"It's Mr. C.!" Ig gasps. "The Calvinist superhero!"
"I've come to get you out, Ignatius," Mr. C. announces, pulling a lockpick out of one of his vest's pouches. "Hold on."
Mr. C. is obviously highly skilled - the work is finished quickly and noiselessly, just the ticket for getting off of Theological Monkey Business Island.
"Nice work," Ignatius tells his newfound friend as the door swings open. "Where to?"
"Into your cell - you're right up against the back of the island, my boat's there. I've got it all planned out. The other prisoners are already freed. Let's go."
An explosive is quickly set at the back of the cell, the door first securely closed and then barricaded, causing the bars at the back to blow off, allowing escape. It was time to move.
Rattattattattat! "They've got BTMGs!" Ig whispers as they scale the rocks. "We've been spotted!"
"Mr. F. will handle them momentarily!" Mr. C. laughs. Sure enough, the firing stops shortly thereafter. "BTMGs stand no chance against Good Theology MGs," he continues, their descent to the bottom of the rocks almost done.
"I've never been so happy to see a Calvinist," Ignatius chuckles, looking around, wary of enemy fire. "And, uh, does the F in Mister F.s name stand for Five?"
"Yes it does!" Mr. C. replies as the two make their way into a large, watery cave where Mr. C.'s boat is anchored. "He's out there in the water, we'll meet up with him soon."
In about a minute, the two are at the high-tech, cozy boat, and they quickly climb aboard. The petal is slammed to the metal, and two take off to the sound of CCM.
"Ya know, maybe you Calvinists -" BLAMBLAMBLAM! "- aren't so bad after all," Mr. Calminian admits. "So, uh, thanks to you and Mister F. I appreciate it."
"Why thank you! Now, hold on tight - we're about to experience some total gravity!"
That hurt! But, eh, it's worth - WHOOOSSHHH!!! SPLASH!!! - it.
...Wow.
DeleteWhat? You're imaginary, you've seen much weirder things than this.
DeleteI know, but...total gravity? Really?
DeleteIt was a tribute to this.
Deletehttp://calvinisticcartoons.blogspot.com/2011/10/calvinistic-judo.html
...Double wow.
DeleteOnly the best in technical services, officer. Welcome to Calvinistic Cartoons.
DeleteThe Green Bean Casserole Caper:
ReplyDeleteThe name is Bill Carey, baptist PI. After 40 years of surveillance work (who substituted wine instead of grape juice) and racketeering investigations (who rigged the casting for the Christmas play), I was getting ready to retire for good, But then the call came.
Someone was stealing the world's supply of French-fried onions right before the Campbell's International Green Bean Casserole cook-off in Wakawakawaka, Hawaii, and I was the man for the job. Also, as providence would have it, my grandmother, Ida Mae Carey of Possum Creek, GA, was one of the finalists.
The only clue to the culprit was the calling card the villain left behind at each of his heists - a cleverly folded origami figure of a fish with legs made from a xeroxed page of Darwin's Origin of Species. When I heard this, I knew we were dealing with a mastermind of crime and poor academic scholarship. It was the calling card of Atheist Man! He really wasn't known for crime per se but for ad hominem attacks, blog trolling, and being an all around pestilent sort of guy.
I took the first plane out to Wakawakawaka and arrived by taxi to the luxury resort that was hosting the contest. Grandma Ida Mae was in fine mettle and eager for the contest to begin. She chided me for my worries and set off with her fellow chefs on an afternoon boat tour of Wakawakawaka island. But alas, when it was time for the boat to return, it was nowhere to be found.
Without a second thought, I hired an outrigger canoe and asked Vinny, the owner, to take the same route as the boat tour. We were one hour into the journey when we spotted the vessel, drifting in the current. We pulled alongside and climbed aboard. Nine of the ten contestants were on board, bound and gagged. After releasing them from their bonds, I pulled out my cell phone and gave the police their location. But where was my grandmother?
The French contestant, Guy de Lombardi, said to me in broken English, "The ship. It was fine but another ship come alongside us and great number of armed men, these cochons, come aboard and threaten us. Votre grandmama, so brave, so bold. She tell them that she give them her secret recipe for the green bean casserole if they let us go. So they tie us up like poulet and they take her as prisoner."
"Do you know the direction they went?" I asked frantically.
Guy pointed out to sea and then collapsed from exhaustion and exposure.
(continued in next comment because I am long winded)
Part 2:
ReplyDeleteWe heard the sound of a police boat heading straight for us, so I knew the contestants would be in good hands. Vinny and I leaped back into the canoe and paddled for the horizon.
My cell phone went off. It was a text and the number was my grandma's cell phone. The text read "Help! Gnome man! Gnome Man!" I quickly texted, "Where? What does this mean?" and then called her. After one ring I heard her pick up the phone and say, "Hello". There was a yell in the background, the sound of the phone falling to the ground, and then silence.
My anger rose. No one messes with my grandma. We paddled furiously, desperately looking for any sign and then lo and behold we spied an island. There were tall carved statues on the shore, almost like Easter Island. As we drew closer, we saw what they were - giant garden gnomes. This must be the place!
Vinny and I grounded the canoe and jumped out. I called the police to give our location and we ran into the jungle. Creeping along under cover of the Virginia creeper, we spied a cave. There were voices. It was Grandma and the voice of that lesser-known less-than-super-villain, Atheist Man, who sounded rather irritated. We peeked around the rocks and saw a small kitchen set up. Grandma was sitting calmly on a chair drinking what looked like sweet tea and speaking to a man who was wearing a ski mask, red checked apron embroidered with a sock monkey, and holding a 9x13 casserole dish in his hands.
"You're telling me your famous green bean casserole is the one off the can. The one that everyone makes for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. That's it? The one that only requires opening cans?"
"You got it, sweet'ums." answered Grandma cheerily. "Now that I've shown you have to make it, just put it in the oven for 25 minutes. Then add the French-fried onions for the topping for another 10 and you're set."
He set the casserole dish on the stove top and bent down to turn on the oven light to check the thermometer reading. At that moment, Grandma lifted the casserole pan and brought it down on Atheist Man's knit-covered pate. He collapsed at her feet as we rushed into the room.
"What took you so long, dear", asked Grandma Ida Mae completely nonplussed by the villain moaning on the floor.
"It took us a while to find you. I didn't know what you meant by "Gnome Man" until we saw the statues." I answered gasping for breath.
"Land's sake! I though it would be obvious," replied Grandma in surprise.
"Why? I didn't know what it meant?"
"Don't you know? ... Gnome Man is an island."
(sorry)