weekly

Weekly Flash Contest #5: Write a story inspired by one of these funny headlines Visit the Bestlifeonline.com webpage, and read their selection of the “25 Funniest Newspaper Headlines of All Time.” Write a story inspired by your chosen headline. Every week during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements we are running a Flash Contest, based on the first Daily Creativity prompt of the week. The prompt is posted on Monday, and entries are due by Friday. The week commencing April 27th (Daily Creativity prompt #26) was our fifth week–and our funniest! Everyone obviously needed to get some comedy into their lives, and we had a record number of entries. We enjoyed reading each and every one of them, but a few of them made all of us laugh out loud, so they are our winners this week: published below, they come in every shade of humour from light to dark, and they are all hilarious. We also have a few Honorable Mentions singled out for special recognition. Congratulations, everyone! Winners (work published on this page) Eliana Aschheim, 13, Santa Clara, CA Gabe Finger, 13, Nesconset, NY Hannah Nami Gajcowski, 10, Bellevue, WA Liam Hancock, 12, Danville, CA Alice Xie, 12, West Windsor, NJ Honorable Mentions “An Un-MOO-rited Act” by Lena Aloise, 10, Harvard, MA “Diary of a Goat Robbery – From the Goatś Perspective” by Cora Casebeer, 10, Salem, OR “The Scientist Who Blamed the Babies” by Samantha Lee, 10, Thomaston, CT Remember, we are running the Flash Contest every week during the COVID-19-related school closures and shelter-in-place arrangements. It is always based on the first Daily Creativity prompt of the week. The prompt is posted on Monday, entries are due by Friday, and the winners are chosen and announced the following week. Farmer Using Cannon to Protect Watermelons By Eliana Aschheim, 13 It was a typical summer morning and everything a summer morning should be: bright and sunny, with no cloud in sight for miles around. Josh Smith looked out his kitchen window to the farm and nodded. It was going to be another perfect day. “Good morning, Josh,” his younger brother Andy greeted him, coming into the kitchen. It seemed like only yesterday that Andy had been ten years old, and Josh twelve, running around in the woods and swimming in lakes. “Hey Andy,” Josh said, barely glancing at him. Now they were much older, decades older, in fact. Andy was forty-seven and Josh was approaching–well, he tried not to think about that. Fifty was an age too old to date anyone, said his late parents–may they rest in peace. And his little Andy had never found anyone that liked him back, poor guy. So they were just two old bachelors puttering around in a house meant for a big family. Andy being single was kind of his own fault, really. Anyone remotely interested in him was scared off by his impressive, almost obsessive collection of Civil War artifacts. Truth was, Josh thought it was a waste of time. Who even cared about preserving and documenting that stuff to that extreme level? Andy did, apparently. He had been collecting since he was only a boy. His room was overflowing with Civil War things. It had started with just a shoebox under the bed, but then it expanded to a whole drawer. Their parents had tried to stop the inevitable flow, but when Andy got the cannon there was just no going back. Civil War-related books spilled off shelves, and old parts of weapons lay filling countless boxes stacked up on the floor. The entire room was now devoted to the cause. But in spite of all the parts Andy owned, no weapon worked–except for maybe the cannon. He took it out for polishing every week, but no one knew if the old thing could still shoot. Whenever Andy brought the cannon out, Josh always felt anxious, worried that it would blow the house to smithereens. The house was centuries old, and deeply rooted in tradition. Sure, there had been a few changes over the years (namely adding and renovating the electricity and plumbing systems) but it was still the same old house, with the same walls and tables and chairs. Josh and Andy had grown up in this house, the last kids of their strand of Smith. But probably the very central component, the most integral part of the house, lay outside. It was the watermelon patch. That patch had been there when construction on the house first started, or so went the family legend. It had withstood frightening tornadoes and insect infestations, deadly droughts and even economic disasters. And because of those things, that watermelon patch was considered sacred. The watermelons it produced were said to be the finest, sweetest, juiciest ones for miles around. Josh helped himself to a cup of coffee and went over to the living room. He turned on the T.V. to watch the news. “Breaking news,” crackled the announcer, “Video gamer Rory Fasloughn, popular on the video game streaming network uPow, made a stand against watermelons. Hundreds of children have taken to eagerly following his wishes, rampaging across the county, leaving watermelons uprooted and cruelly destroyed in their wake. Here’s a clip.” Josh gaped at the screen. Children pillaging farms under the command of a video gamer? Really? On screen, a video of Rory Fasloughn was playing. “I mean, they have water and melon. A liquid and a solid. How can something be a liquid and a solid at the same time? Choose one, people. I hate it. Watermelons should be banished from the planet.” Disgusted, Josh turned off the T.V. Banish watermelons? What was this Fasloughn guy saying? And people were actually taking him seriously? Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “Andy?” Josh said. Andy was still in the kitchen, toasting some bread. “There’s this thing on the T.V. Some kids are trying to destroy our watermelons,” Josh told him, putting on his shoes. “Our watermelons?” Andy clarified, “Why would people want our watermelons?”