It’s that time of the week again – story challenge time.
Can you tell a story in 26 words using the following words in it somewhere:
- ORGANIC
- CATERPILLAR
- SUDOKU
Last week’s challenge was to write a story in 50 words using the following five words in it somewhere:
- POEM
- CRITIQUE
- MURDER
- CUPCAKE
- DICE
Here are your wonderful stories:
Kate in Cornwall:
Lady Ursula Plaid-Cardigan seethed as she read Penelope Pratt’s critique of her poem, ‘Ode to a Cupcake’.
‘More painful than childbirth and equally as messy’, the art critic opined.
“Vilify my verse and you dice with death,” snarled Ursula, grabbing her phone.
Police are describing Pratt’s vicious murder as ‘professional’.
Pete:
Choo Choo Mama: Roll the dice my little cupcake and I’ll recite a poem for you. If it comes up snake eyes you can give the poem a critique. But if it comes up with boxcars, I guess I’ll just have to murder you. That’s how my literary train rolls.
Not Everyone Understands Good Poetry
Edwin’s critique of Marla’s poem left her so mad! Remembering that some people cannot appreciate subtlety, rather than murdering a friend, she opted for a double-chocolate cupcake to comfort her. After all, poetry can be like the roll of the dice: sometimes people get it and other times they don’t.
“OK, listen, cupcake. My agent showed me the newspaper. I think you’d better get back to your typewriter and do something about that critique, or change your job. I never said I was Dylan Thomas but to murder my poem like that and expect me to take it? No dice.”
To critique a murder in a poem lacked good taste; but the ‘Cupcake Murder’ as it became known, was infamous for the Russian Roulette style killing. One of the six cupcakes was poisoned – it was an unlucky roll of the dice that led to the poisoner being the one poisoned.
Nicola Daly:
‘I’m going to murder that bloody woman. “Critique” she calls it. Says my limerick isn’t a “proper” poem. Can’t be included in her precious anthology. Just wait, I’ll dice her bloody anthology into little cubes. See how she likes that. Pass me a cupcake, love. That’s right, the chocolate one.
Hot and Cross
It was the roll of the sugar cube dice that forced the authorities to arrest Julia’s child, Julie, for the murder of Shapely Sweet Cheeks a.k.a. Cupcake. Of course, she wouldn’t have smothered Shapely with fondant, had she not unfavourably critiqued Julie’s poem titled Mastering the Art of Bun Baking!
I was writing a poem that I expected would be critiqued by the editor later. Boy, I’d like to murder her sometimes t thought as I munched on a cupcake. I’m rolling the dice that what I’ll get in the mail is another rejection letter. But that’s just my luck!
I threw the dice and when they came up seven, it was a sign to publish my love poem on my blog.
I ate a cupcake as I waited for the likes and comments to arrive, But the first was a harsh critique equating my poem to committing literary murder.
The teacher’s critique opinion of my poem was heartless and cruel.
I always knew he had no sense of humour.
“Murder by Cupcake” was a tongue in cheek look at gluttony, greed and vengeance in order to secure the family inheritance. The weapon of choice proved ‘no dice’ for success.
“I could murder a curry,” he said. He looked over to his granddaughter, nodded with placid deference, rolled the dice, sighed deeply and stated: “A cupcake it is.”
He started to dictate a poem to Susan while chewing and added: “Don’t critique it too harshly. I’m not at my best.”
Rall:
it’s the roll of the dice if the critique is favourable or not
They steal my poems anyway so they must be OK
I found one of them in a book called The Cupcake Murder
a story about a psycho who killed his mother because she didn’t put
icing on it
Murray Clarke:
William sat down on a wooden stool, and reaching for his trusted quill and parchment, began to write a new poem. He paused to think. “What rhymes with ‘Mystique’? ” That was the question. Finally, Shakespeare scribbled: ‘Critique’. He was so pleased with himself he cried: “I could murder a cupcake!”
Oh, the Horror of it all
It was my turn to stand at the podium to read my poem and have it be critiqued. I was quite nervous…
“Cupcake was
her name
& murder was
her game…
with sugar and
spice and a
pair of
fuzzy dice…”
They looked at me and said, “Nope you suck. Next !”
The Great Cakesby
In cupcake world there is no murder. Crime is unknown, critiques don’t exist. Nobody is mean, everyone is sweet. The young and fresh ones learn the poem once told by the Great Cakesby: “When they dice up your granny, crumbles are born, so always stay canny and do not mourn”.
Her cupcake critique was marvellous. According to the TV chef Paul Hollywood it was a delightful poem of cherry and bitter lemon. She was rewarded with a ‘Hollywood handshake’.
Unfortunately the other contestants did not approve. She was dicing with death and she was drowned in murderous creme pat sauce.
What a disaster!
Jo remembered murderously critiquing to find the right words. She rolled the dice while munching a cupcake and considered not giving him the poem. They were only 13.
Umbrella
Under the Umbrella with YOU
Skies are always Blue.
My first kiss under the Dome
You promised you’d always be True.
The captain was a hard ass.
My murder-scene critique was met with,
“Big mistake, you, naive cupcake! Seems I lost the roll of the dice, Newbie.”
“Captain…You investigating or writing a poem?”
He grinned and slapped my back.
“Look at the ceiling, again. That’s not knife castoff. It’s ketchup!”
When he appeared before a panel of judges for a critique of his poem, the gangster-looking guy reached into his breast pocket for a cupcake. The gesture was taken as a threat. No one wanted to roll the dice that a bad word wouldn’t mean murder.
I rolled the dice and took a chance on winning a cupcake prize for my little poem. However, the judges were harsh and murdered my verse with a snort, a laugh, and a big fat no critique.
My eye spies the prize
The cupcake will be mine?
I didn’t win
Slam-dunk
At the poetry slam, Aureliana’s poem, ‘The Cupcake Murder’ shocked everyone.
‘No – far too dicey,’ critiqued the compare.
‘But it was heartfelt,’ shouted Aureliana.
Laughter erupted when she threw a cupcake right in his face.
The cupcake survived, but the gathering turned chaotic. Who knew fancies could be so deadly?
Following Clues
I pulled out the poem from between the crevices where the murder took place that would give me a clue to the treasure. Hmm, not very good, but enough with my ill-timing critique.
“Walk 10 paces down,
go all around the cupcake store,
beneath the steps; dice.”
Here I go!
The poet baked a cupcake for his muse, sweet as his latest poem.
Her critique sliced deeper than knives.
Anger rolled through him like loaded dice—chance gone rogue.
When dawn came, the frosting was red, the verse complete.
They called it passion.
The police called it murder.
This Poem
Roll the dice and critique this poem
It’s time again for the witches ball
A cackle goes out for one and all
The full moon will drive you crazy
The witches skirts flimsy and lacy
Will you answer the Halloween call
Listen up cupcake, murder is committed for a price.
Not a murder-mystery
Not a real poem
Not for rhythm, not for rhyme
No plot-twists here to throw ‘em
Just a little cupcake
Not naughty, maybe nice
Literary gamble
Played with loaded dice
Hardly an original.
Don’t think it’s unique
Please feel free to read it
But thank-you. No critique.
My attempt at a poem,
The bake of her cupcake,
Unfortunately made my jaws ache.
But expressing my critique,
Made my outlook very bleak.
So with death I did dice,
As she hurled the block of ice.
With my murder in her mind,
A safe refuge I needed to find.
Fit of Rage
The harsh critique of a murder mystery poem led to a heated argument. In a fit of rage, the poet grabbed a cupcake and threw it at the critic. The cupcake missed, hitting a shelf of dice instead. The noisy tumbling dice brought an abrupt end to the poetic showdown.
Dr. Cupcake tossed the ornate dice across the table. The result would guide his decision whether to destroy or keep the notes linked to his latest poem. Someone in the writing critique group was more than determined that he was guilty of the murder he had written about. Snake Eyes!
a poem
this tome
has a home
killin murder done in
slim slope
chocolate cupcake i hope
your critique is in line
***
Esther Chilton 
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