Thursday, April 28, 2011

Random Word Writing Challenge #8

Write as many paragraphs as you like using the words above.
Entries may be poetry, prose, fiction, essays or interviews.
(or any other form of creatively written expression.)
Just be funny, clever and theological...
and please give your piece a TITLE.


    by the Ink Slinger

    Robert Neville peered cautiously through a crack in the door. The room on the other side was pitch black - just the way the undead liked it.

    Neville could hear them breathing. They were resting, waiting for nightfall, when they could roam the city under cover of darkness.

    Neville looked at his watch. He had about half an hour before the sun's protecting rays disappeared completely. He knew he shouldn't be out this close to sundown. He should have been home by now, locked up safe from the hordes of zombies.

    Zombies. Neville inwardly shivered. But these creatures weren't just zombies, he thought. They were theologically-unsound zombies. Arminian zombies. Zombies who preyed on anyone and everyone who touted the doctrines of Grace. Compared to them, old fashioned brain-eating zombies were a mere inconvenience.

    Which brought him back to the present and why he was here, miles from where he should be, crouching at the door of an abandoned apartment. He was here to retrieve what the Zombies had taken, to restore what was rightfully his: Matthew Henry's commentary on the book of Romans.

    If I don't do this right the first time, Neville thought, it'll mean trouble. He bit his lip in pensive anxiety.

    Neville suffered from an acute case of thanatophobia - abnormal fear of death. This was because he knew that if he got caught, not only would he die, he would rise again as an Arminian. Horror of horrors!

    He tightened his grip around the squirt-gun in his right hand. (It was filled with TULIP-scented water.) In his other hand was a Romans 9 flashlight. (It had 9x the power of his regular flahslights and the zombies hated it.)

    Jumping to his feet, Neville shoved the door open and dashed in, switching his light on. He heard snarls and caught fleeting glimpses angry undead faces trying to shield themselves from the sudden brightness.

    Where is it? Where is it? Neville thought. Then he saw it, lying face down on a table in the far corner. He snatched it up and turned to rush back towards the door. Most of the zombies had fallen back in stunned surprise, but there was one who barred his way, a big brute with a John 3:16 tattoo on his chest.

    Neville gulped, and then hurled himself forward, unleashing a stream of TULIP water into the creatures eyes. There was a scream, and the monster fell to his knees. Neville dashed around him and sprinted out the door, making fast tracks for his vehicle. He tossed his recovered treasure into the passenger seat, turned the key, and was off.

  2. @Scribe: Bwahahahaha. That is genius. Zombies, Arminians, Matthew Henry? Beautiful.

  3. Thanks, Michael. Glad you enjoyed it!

    As soon as I saw the word "Zombie" included in the list of random word list, I knew I had to do a spoof of some sort off Richard Matheson's I Am Legend.

  4. The Case of Captain Clark

    Uncomfortably in the wardrobe, I peeked out into the large room, breathing heavily, where Captain Clark and one of his minions, were speaking.

    "Any trouble with the arrangements?" Captain Clark chuckled, rubbing his hands tofether gleefully.

    "No sir," the servant giggled. "Soon, all the little Calvinists at the ReformedVille Mall will be turned into wonderful Arminian zombies..."

    I suddenly felt pensive [that's a word I don't think I've ever used before, so I could be using it wrong]. Zombies? ReformedVille Mall? What were these madmen up to?

    Finally, the insane captain began speaking again. "The constant barrage of various invitational hymns, He Lives, and other assorted less-than-good-theologically hymns, along with the wonderful wonderfulness of John 3:16, 1 John 2:2, and others, will render them helpless," he cackled, giving himself a hug. "They will all be under MY control!"

    "The walking dead," hissed Clark's denizen. "I hope you don't have thanatophobia, sir."

    The leader looked at his underling, and smiled. "Not when the walking dead are Arminians completely under my control."

    A shiver went down my spine as the two laughed like the psychopaths they were. It was up to I, Sherlock Holmes IV, to stop them!

  5. @Joel: Hahaha! That was great!

    I love this line: ""The constant barrage of various invitational hymns, He Lives, and other assorted less-than-good-theologically hymns, along with the wonderful wonderfulness of John 3:16, 1 John 2:2, and others, will render them helpless."

    Love it!

    ~ the Ink Slinger

  6. Another Rob Bell Victim

    Why so pensive, Jim? Trouble at the homefront? Got a few zombies in the attic again?

    No, Rob. My psychiatrist tells me I have Thanatophobia!

    You mean you're afraid of conjunctions and adjectives?

    No, I am afraid of death!

    Oh, then just read my book, Love Wins, that will take care of any fear of death you might have.

    Sorry Rob, it was reading your book that gave me Thanatophobia. And a fear of conjunctions and adjectives too. Darn those proof readers!

  7. @Scribe & Michael: Thanks! Glad y'all enjoyed it.
    Spherical: Love it!

  8. Showdown

    “This looks like trouble…” The Louisiana man said with a pensive tip of his hat.

    “What?” His young friend asked.

    “Zombies. Big ‘uns by the looks.” He said casually.

    “What? Where did they come from?”

    “They came from the nearby Methodist seminary. They’re Arminians finally showing what they really are.” He pointed to a nearby, overturned car where the words: “John 3:16” and "2 Peter 3:9" were spray-painted.

    The little gas station they were ducked in wouldn’t hide them for long, it was only a matter of time before they smelled the Calvinism within. There was one thing that Arminian zombies were known for, that was smelling Reformed theology from a mile away.

    “Looks like they found us.” The Louisiana man said, pulling out his shotgun and frying pan.

    “How do you know?”

    The man shushed him, “Hear that?”

    Lightly, he could hear “I Have Decided to Follow Jesus” being hummed. The zombies were nearby.

    “Now remember son, you don’t have to kill an Arminian zombie to make them afraid of you, just threaten them with death.”


    “Thanatophobia. The thing about Arminian Zombies is they are concerned if they’ve lost their salvation or not, so they’re afraid of death.”

    “But aren’t zombies un-dead?”

    “That’s why they’re confused. Now quiet, boy! Here they come.”

    For minutes, that felt like hours, silence reigned, the only sound they could hear was their own breathing, the stiff inhaling and exhaling, until they saw it - a zombie struggling towards them, his visage was hard to recognize, but the young man, being the church history enthusiast he was, recognized him as James Arminius!

    “I’ll be hog-tied. That looks like James Arminus!”

    “How right you are!” A voice from behind them said.

    They turned around to face none other than John Wesley himself—kinda. The zombie wearing a horrible wig and a face that was almost the spitting-image of John Wesley snarled at them, “I know what you are…you smell of the Doctrines of Grace!”

    “You don’t wanna know what you smell like, buddy!” The Louisiana man raised his pan and wacked the Wesley on the head, sending it flying off into the distance, the leftover jambalaya flying all over.

    “What?” The young man exclaimed seeing the body of the Wesley stand there and flail it’s arms at them.

    “Oops, done forgot that!” The Louisiana man raised his twelve-guage and fired away at the living corpse.

    When the smoke cleared they stood , listening to the oncoming footsteps of James Arminius…un-dead.

    “Let’s get going, boy, we got some zombie-slayin’ to do!”

    Kinda long, but there it is.

  9. @Michael: Hahaha! That was great! The word "zombie" is lots of fun to play around with, isn't it? :)

    the Ink Slinger

  10. Episode 7, The Laboratory of Dr. BInnock-Poyd

    I crept slowly and silently down the dank corridor. The passage wound deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth beneath the Open-Theist Church of Weather Prophecy and Time Travel. Reaching a bend, I peered around the stone wall.

    At last I found the the secret laboratory of the dreaded Dr. Binnock-Poyd!

    Creeping forward, I saw the doctor himself, seated at his desk in a pensive mood, muttering to himself.

    "My entire life's work comes down to this single moment. Will it work? Maybe it will, maybe it won't. I don't know. Anything could happen. Rats! That's what comes of being an open theist. But enough of this talk."

    He pressed a button on his desk.

    "Bring in the subject to test the mind ray.", he commanded in a sinister voice.

    I watched as a door opened in the opposing stone wall. His henchmen, looking as appealing as a pair of zombies, brought in a struggling figure. It was a man, but the face was shrouded by a hood.

    The man was forced into a chair with his arms tied behind his back. Then the hood was pulled off.

    I barely restrained an audible gasp. It was R.C. Sproul.

    "So Dr. Sproul, we meet again." laughed Binnock-Poyd, "What do have to say for your sovereign God, now? Bwhahahaha!"

    R. C. looked him straight in the eye and replied, "He's as sovereign now as He was when your buffoons grabbed me. I don't know what you have in mind, but you can kill me before I deny the sovereignty of God. And because He's sovereign, I don't suffer from thanatophobia."

    I nearly cheered, but I needed to rescue Dr. Sproul not create more trouble.

    "You fool! I won't kill you, but I will use you. You will be the guinea pig for my new device. It will alter your Calvinist brain waves, changing their patterns until you cease to believe in the sovereignty of God!"

    Dr. Sproul struggled as the toadies strapped a helmet-like contraption to his head. Laughing like a howler monkey, Dr. Binnock-Poyd walked over to the mind ray control panel. As he reached to flip the switch, I sprang into action.

    Leaping into the room, I brandished my weapons as the maniacal heretic glanced up.

    "Nooo! It's Idelette the Heretic Slayer! Stop her you dolts, while I take care of Dr. Sproul."

    As his enforcers stepped forward, I let fly with a hardback ESV Study Bible. It connected with Dr. Binnock-Poyd's head with a satisfying thunk, stunning him momentarily with the truth. In the fray, Dr. Sproul had cut his bonds with a John Calvin Commemorative Swiss army knife that he had hidden up his sleeve. He proceeded to tackle one of the goons, while I felled the other with Grudem's Systematic Theology.

    Helping R.C. to his feet, we turned to deal with the chief heretic when we saw him disappearing through a trap door in the floor.

    "We will meet again, you Calvinists. If you think you can stop me, think again. Bwahahaha."

    To be continued...

    Sorry it's so long but I got a little carried away. :-)

  11. The Case of the Patient Who Misdiagnosed His Own Disorder
    A Story from "The Strange Cases of Dr. Wolfgang "Wolf" Spritzer, Psychiatrist at Large"

    As soon as the receptionist told him that the new patient, Mr. P.V.C. Pipes, had asked to use the rear entrance to the building, Dr. Spritzer suspected that this might be another strange case. His suspicion was confirmed when the client came in wearing a surgical mask and a flak-jacket, his eyes suspiciously darting around the room.

    "Sit down, sit down," said Dr. Spritzer. "Tell me what your problem is and I will give it a name." The doctor liked to start his sessions with a little "shrink-humor" to make his patients feel at ease. It didn't work this time, as his client just glared at him.

    The glare softened into a pensive gaze as he spoke. "I've diagnosed the problem myself, and I know it's name," he began. "A powerful, irrational fear of death has recently come over me, and that condition is called, 'thanatophobia.'" The Psychiatrist muttered something under his breath, about where his patient got his medical degree. "What was that, Doctor?" asked Mr. Pipes. "Oh, nothing, nothing; go on with your story."

    "Well," began Mr. P.V.C. Pipes, "just for kicks, I went to this crazy evangelistic meeting. The speaker's topic was 'sin, righteousness, and the judgment to come.' Soon I was literaly shaking in my boots. I was imagining these vivid scenes of the earth opening up to swallow me. I thought I heard a voice saying, 'Depart from me ye cursed,' and another saying, 'Prepare to meet thy God.'"

    "Several of us left the meeting early; we were all walking like zombies. Ever since that night, I haven't been able to get my mind off the subject of dying and I am taking every precaution to avoid it. But that is the trouble, Doctor. None of this really applies to my actual life. I have no reason to dread the day that I shuffle off this mortal coil. I am a good person, I go to church, I am fairly sure that my good deeds outnumber my bad ones..."

    At this point, Doctor Spritzer interupted, "Mr. P.V.C. Pipes, you do not have thanatophobia, the irrational fear of death. His client looked puzzled. "You have very good reason to fear your ultimate departure." The psychiatrist was writing something on a piece of paper.

    "Is that a prescription you are writing?" asked Mr. Pipes.

    "No," replied the doctor, "it is a referral. I am sending you to someone who specializes in cases like yours. His name is Dr. John MacArthur. A large group is meeting with him this Sunday."

    As his client departed, "Wolf" Spritzer, Psychiatrist at large, had no doubt that he would follow through with the recommended referral. He was even more desperate now than when he had first walked in. And in this case, that was a good thing.

  12. This is my first try at a Random Word Writing Challenge. It is kind of hard to keep it short. I am more at home with captions. : )

    Great stories, Scribe, Michael.

    Persis, that was fantastic.

    Joel, Arminian zombies are my worst nightmare.

    Spherical, very funny. Another psychiatrist aye?

  13. @Persis: That. Was. Positively. Brilliant.

    the Ink Slinger

  14. Eddie gives us such awesome words to work with, it's hard not to get carried away. :)

    Great story, by the way!

    the Ink Slinger

  15. I love the random word writing challenges. :-D

  16. I changed the wording in the post so that you never have to feel guilty about writing a paragraph, short story or novel ever again!

  17. I gotta say, in our culture, "zombie" sure does conjure up a lot of very interesting stories. This post is sure proof of that.

  18. Bombie the ZombieApril 29, 2011 at 6:15 PM

    It really really do.

  19. Bombie the Zombie? That's a new one...


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