Ann’s shameful hunger remained unsatisfied. Her fingers curled into claws at the ache in her midsection; the bloodlust was growing. A knock on the window startled her from her reverie, but it was only an acorn tapping on its way down to the ground.
The chicken lottery was scheduled for next week, but Ann didn’t believe she was going to make it that long. She picked up her phone to call the Lord Chamberlain.
After half an hour on the phone, arguing back and forth, the Lord Chamberlain agreed to give Ann an extra entry for every conversion she achieved in the next week. Ann grumbled, because those extra entries did nothing to assuage her hunger now, but she knew this was the best she was going to get.
One of my favorite things to do is go to this random word generator and make something with what I get. Today it was: bloodlust chicken lottery lord conversion shameful. So just keep in mind, when I share something totally off the wall, it’s probably because of six random words.
The roadside stand was unmanned. When Cheryl stopped, she quickly gathered that it had been abandoned for quite some time. The disappointment ate into her stomach like an ulcer; she’d had her heart set on a nice batch of fresh boiled peanuts.
“I don’t know why I even turned the car off,” she muttered to herself as she walked about to the car, keys in hand. “I should have known this place was closed.”
Back in the car, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She let it out slowly, watching the colors dance behind her eyelids, making abstract patterns and arcane symbols with their motion. Feeling slightly better, she adjusted the air conditioner vents for maximum artificially chilled wind in her face.
She pulled back onto the highway, the only car as far as her eyes could see in either direction. The interstate killed the roadside business. Just as well; she always made herself sick on boiled peanuts.
She decided to eat a frozen waffle when she got home. Maybe even with ice cream.