I'm a devoted fan of Jonothan Slaght who wrote Owls of the Eastern Ice.
After I heard him talk about his book, I started following him on Twitter and it's been a lot of fun.
Just recently he tweeted:
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
And honestly, a better first line prompt I haven't seen in quite some time.
How about all y'all take a stab at the next two or three lines.
20 words max.
Post in the comment column of this blog post. Comments are closed now.
Results posted Wed 8/18/21 7am EDT
I've got some books to offer as prizes!
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| Three books means three winners, right? |
32 comments:
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
The ice over this lake is about to crack and this bear is trying to sell me life insurance. My estranged--soon to be X--would like that.
Chuck my salmon jerky far as I can throw it? He’ll think there’s more where that came from. Being me.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.”
“That’s not a bear. That’s Uncle Boris taking a leak.”
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
And once ursa major sets, and the sun rises, and its warmth softens the ice juuust enough, I'll drive forward.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
It's 1709 miles to Chicago, the truck is out of gas, I'm holding: a twinkie, a bullet, and a rifle.
I picked a helluva time to become a vegan.
Did I mention I'm wearing sunglasses?"
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away
Hoping he can't smell me.
Hoping he can't smell the body in the trunk.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away. I could drive off – he’s big, but not eat-an-F250 big – but I’d promised Helena that no matter what happened, I wouldn’t leave her on the ice.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
Got himself a bear perm and a bad attitude chewing on that cable. Now my truck won’t start.
Stupid Tesla.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
Furface must have smelled my fresh owl pellet – knows I’m nearby. Darn bones.
Hey, what do all these buttons do?
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
More important, someone on Twitter is wrong about something so I must correct them while I wait for help!
I watch its movements. It hasn’t smelled blood yet. The human was an easy kill, but I know my limits.
She said that she has a headache, again.
Big, hairy Stephen sprawls across the one-laner, his romantic gesture threatening my on-time-delivery bonus. And my brake foot tires.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
The truth? The truck's a cell. The bear's a warden. The ice? Missing. Oops.
Hope Boss believes in global warming.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
It stands drinking a Coca-Cola.
Don’t have another? Ha! At least Smokey and Yogi will stay and chat!
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away. I knew I should have checked the gas tank before the bank heist.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
I turn to Lenny. All that’s left is an arm. I pull his door shut and smile to myself.
I was enjoying the book until I got to the scene with the starving abandoned cat in the forest.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away. He's licking his muzzle to clean the crumbs of Alfredo from his fur. I always knew my husband was a crumb.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
On the downside, lunch is getting cold in the passenger seat and so is the body in my cab.
Me? I’m sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away. Really hoping he doesn’t have an account with ACME, because if a giant can opener gets delivered, I’m toast.
Me? I’m sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away. I think about speeding things along. But, I can’t afford to leave any evidence behind.
Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
I doubt he will.
It's a really nice truck. He never shoulda left the keys in it.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away."
Still, of all the honeymoons, this one could be the easiest to...forget. So long as bears eat bones too.
"Me? I'm sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
The wind is gently rocking me to sleep....
Oh...wait...that's not the wind."
Me? I’m sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
I don't get it. We had our fun. Why do Grindr matches in Yukon villages get so clingy?
Me. I’m sitting in a truck eight miles from the Arctic Ocean waiting for a bear to go away.
Fifty miles more and the zombie plague and I disappear together. I am getting hungry. Bear brain. Human brain. Whichever.
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