It’s that time of week again – don’t they come round quickly?! Yes, it’s story challenge time. Can you tell a story in 66 words using the following words in it somewhere:
- UNDERDOG
- DECORATE
- LOLLIPOP
- HEXAGON
- MONEY
- PHOTOGRAPH
The previous challenge was to write a story in 73 words using the following seven words in it somewhere:
- EXCLUSIVE
- SWITCH
- RAVE
- LIP
- APOLOGY
- VERSE
- SWEATER
Here are your wonderful stories:
Rall:
She immediately apologised for using the word sweater realising this of course would result in another rave session on the corruption of the English language and a chapter and verse lecture on syntax and usage Flick the switch sweetie. Yes I’m giving you some lip. Take your exclusive life and lingo elsewhere.
Making Sense in a Song
The TV announced: “Coming up is our exclusive report about Martha Stewart preferring to shower before she goes to the gym.”*
I offered an apology for the whole human race to my cat, Ray.
Biting my lip, I switched it off.
Ray stretched then curled upon my sweater beside my guitar.
“Cats never rave over nonsense” became my song’s first verse. “That’s why we get along so well” would be its repeating refrain.
*This was an actual “news” report on TV yesterday.
True story, happened yesterday afternoon. Rolling up to the lobby, ready in my warm sweater, to switch into a transport van for a doctor’s appointment. I make no apology for trying to look my best, hair and makeup done including lipstick – need my lips colored, otherwise I’m too pale. The maintenance man was sitting in his exclusive perch, started to rave about my lips. No verse but statements. Others there, embarrassing!
In an exclusive apology, Franklin gave lip service to the offensive verse and tried a switch to convince the audience that he was not referring to the underneath of Miss Jones’s sweater. No one bought it.
She slipped into the exclusive lounge wearing his old sweater, the one that still held a trace of yesterday. A DJ played a muted rave track, but her mind hummed a different verse entirely. She rehearsed an apology on her lip, unsure if she’d ever speak it aloud. When he walked in, the room seemed to switch currents, and for a moment, neither of them moved.
“I’m so sorry for falling asleep in your comedy lecture.”
“Is that some sort of a ‘napology’?
“In your puniverse it might be.”
“Ha! And with one grave slip of your tongue, you switch from Kevin Inclusive to Alex Exclusive.”
“And, in my world, sugar is sweat, and salt is sweater.”
“That makes but little nonsense, you should at least try and make things funny.”
“Punny?!”
“Oh, go back to slip!”
Susan Batten:
The verse on her sweater was clear:
the rave that he wanted was here.
No apology proffered,
nor exclusive love offered,
and no switch to lip service – no fear!
She offered no apology when she turned up wearing the same ‘exclusive’ sweater as five other women at the beach party that autumn evening. They grinned when they saw each other.
A cheeky teenager gave her some lip about being too old for their rave and she should switch to the geriatric bingo on the prom.
She laughed, then burst into song at the first verse of Queen’s I Want to Break Free.
Murray Clarke:
Set in over two thousand acres of rolling countryside, the exclusive country club paid lip service to 18th. century architecture. The eccentric owner, Lord Lawrence Camelford Fitzpatrick, made no apologies for organising a rave extraordinaire in the Grand Ballroom, quoting his plans chapter and verse to anyone polite enough to listen. At the Opening Ceremony, wearing a threadbare crimson sweater, he was responsible for switching on the multi-coloured lights that adorned the walls.
While we were dancing at the rave last Saturday some punk tried to give you lip about the color of the sweater you had on. When you wanted to give him an apology a switch went off in my head refusing to understand the logic. I broke into a musical verse while telling him to bugger off which turned into a YouTube video exclusive earning someone we didn’t know over a million likes.
At the exclusive rave, lights pulsed like a living verse. A DJ flicked a switch, bass shaking my sweater and the crowd. Someone shouted an apology into my lip-brushed ear after spilling a drink. We laughed, strangers bonded by sweat and sound. By dawn, the club felt like a concert, hearts synced, memories stitched louder than silence. Neon promises lingered, feet aching, joy humming, night forgiving everything we carried inside, together again tomorrow.
He had this little verse, just for situations like this. He whispered it in the mirror with pouted lips and heavy lidded bedroom eyes. In an instant he switched his personality.
She put on her pink sweater over the purple tank-top with built-in boobs and off she went downtown, to rave the night away in the exclusive dance club. She would lose herself in the beat of the pounding techno music. No apology!
Exclusive
In today’s news we have exclusive details of the switchof twin girls that was committed during a rave in the 1980s. The only way to tell them apart was the shape of their top lips.
Everything came to light when their kidnapper gave an apology in blank verse. He had wrapped the youngest baby in a sweater to steal it away. He now felt remorse and had to sort things out.
Catching Customers’ Attention
Opening her own thrift store was on Emma’s mind. Her ad in the newspaper read, ‘Exclusive clothing meant original style. Spend less and switch to Timeless Threads on Lip Drive today!’ Did that verse well enough? She pondered, as she hung up a sweater. I could do more of a rant and rave perhaps, but not too much. I don’t want to come across as negative and then to have to apologize afterward.
The One with the Manic Politician
Reporters were raving about the apology, but only one had got the exclusive right to talk to the president about the nightly verse he had sent out:
“My lips were sealed, but now they speak
economy is far from peak
my promises just empty words!”
Then, instead of the politician another post came:
“Switch on the telly, I fly with birds
I bought a sweater for wingsuit!
…
It doesn’t work,
Oh shoot!”
The Password
The exclusive club required a password – one verse from a random song. I fumbled it, earning a gruff “switch lines” from the bouncer. My friend shot me a look, then smoothed things over with a quick apology. The rave was pulsing with energy. Someone complimented my sweater; I tried responding but even outside the music drowned my words. She leaned in closer to read my lips, and to my delight, she kissed me!
Looking at the shop owner questioningly, she poked a finger through the hole n the Angora sweater. “The window sign says this is a high end, gently worn, exclusive clothing store.”
The clerk made no apology but started to rave. The switch from her demure professional tone to a rising voice spewing the store policy verse by verse, was humorous to bystanders. Especially when one side of the clerk’s top lip began twitching.
Too Good to be true?
“You’ll rave about this exclusive offer!” claimed the advertisement. The offer was enticing so I switched service providers.
What a crock! Nothing but problems – more dropped calls than dropped stitches when knitting my last sweater. I called to complain but what did their so-called “service” representative say? He (it?) gave me nothing but lip. Not a hint of an apology.
Revenge was sweet. I posted a scathing review – a verse in iambic pentameter.
On visiting my Facebook page, I read the disguised verse message indicating the exclusive venue of the forthcoming Rave event.
Quickly donning my sweater and jeans, I was confronted by my mother. I brazenly gave her some lip, followed by a hurried apology. I closed my bedroom door and flicked off the light switch.
I waited until the family were asleep, then climbed out of my bedroom window and headed for the Rave.
Squirreljan:
Himself was ridiculously enthusiastic. “All guests switch sweaters and listen to poems.”
Idiot. On arrival, we were asked to hand over our tops before being given a verse of The Lady of Shallot to read out, whilst topless on the stage. The compere explained it was an “Exclusive Sweater Poetry Rave” and we should feel honoured.
Himself now has a split lip but still won’t give me an apology. Apparently, it was fun.
Silver Gala
The exclusive VIP gala was in full swing, but turned cold when the lights flickered. Agent Silver adjusted his silk sweater, feeling the hidden switch beneath his collar. He whispered in a coded verse, but immediately his lips pursed, he’d been rumbled. Suddenly the ballroom became a strobe-lit rave of gunfire. ‘My apologies,’ Silver mouthed to a woman, as he dived through a nearby window.
Thankfully landing safely, already planning his next daring escape.
Lou by the Sea:
The Rave
An exclusive gentlemen’s club had a one night switch for a rave. No apology was made for the lip gloss and sweaty sweater that now replaced Hugh’s business suit. The music, smoke, heat and essence of hot bodies in a crowd filled his senses. His life had taken a welcome turn. His wife read him chapter and verse on his poor choices but he delighted in knowing the venue for his next indulgence.
to the sole intent
exclusive elusive
the sly paint a dab of paint
yeah switch and rave
the energy you save
rave sass lip synch and service
much more or less
apology
for the lack of adhere
and cohesive
stings
***
Image credit: Pinterest
Esther Chilton 
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