It’s Guest Blogger Day!

As part of the WordCount blogathon, Su-sieee! Mac at This and That. Here and There. Now, Sometimes then has agreed to be my guest blogger for the day. I’m delighted to have her. We both used a random prompt generator, and she got a doozy! I love what she did with it. ~TwoHands Tara

The Quest of a Guest Blogger

The Write On Project at the Jefferson County Schools in Tennessee posted a prompt generator online to help kids get essay ideas.  Tara and I clicked the random button seven times. This is what I got: ”You are a letter in the alphabet on your classroom wall chart. You are tired of being up on the classroom wall. Write about an adventure you could have if you were down for one hour.”

Hooo boy. Total blanket of blankness is the only thing that comes to my mind.

I do say this: I am impressed with the confidence the adults in that school district have about the creative minds of their kids to come up with that prompt.

If I was a letter in the alphabet and I had an hour to get off that wall, what would I do? Uh, uh, uh. . .

I don’t even know if I could’ve come up with anything when I was an elementary school kid. Maybe as a young adult, but I would have had help of friends who would have been just as loaded as I would’ve been.  Maybe 20 years ago when my brain was more flexible creatively at a moment’s notice, I would be writing up a storm. . . .Just call me Q. Let me tell you, it is lonely up here on the wall chart between two popular letters, P and R. I hardly see them. And, M, N, S, and T are doing their things constantly, too. It wouldn’t be so bad if I was standing next to X, Y, and Z or even J and K.

Doesn’t the letter Q sound like a Richard Lewis wannabe?

Okay, for Tara’s sake, I must get a grip and persist to the end. What kind of adventure would the letter Q have in an hour?

Q was sick of standing in the queue of letters. She thought she would quackle, if she stood there one more second. She put on her qiviut, drank the last of her qat tea, and bounded off the chart. She ran quickly out the door and towards the qanat. A quadriga almost ran her over. In fact, if Q hadn’t jumped when she did, she would have been quadrifid.

Q stumbled onto a quay where she heard a recording of Randy Quaid and Anthony Quinn singing Qué Sera, Sera in quadraphonic sound. Suddenly Q was swept up by quadrille dancers and quagswagged from one dancer to the next.

“Quaviver! Quaviver!” cried a dancer. All the dancers ran for their lives.

Q stepped through a door and found herself in a quad among a group of people quietly doing qigong.  She went through another door. Women and men were sitting around a table discussing quagma, quagmires, and quahogs. Q felt like such a quat; she wished she was home again standing between P and R, contemplating for the quadragintesimal time the quadratic formula.

“Here, kid, have a quince.”

Q looked up. A beautiful quetzal stood before her, the fruit at its feet.

“Eat it PDQ and I’ll fly you home.”

Q did. The quetzal did.  The End.

A bit too much, maybe? How about a video of quadrille dancers then?