Weekly Prompt Story: Monkey

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/12/09/weekly-challenge-346-monkey/

How to Increase Your Enjoyment of Popular Music

By Christopher Munroe

Every song improves when you replace the word “Money” with the word “Monkeys” in the lyric.

Monkeys don’t get everything, it’s true. But what they don’t get I can’t use, I want monkeys.

Or:

She works hard for the monkeys, so hard for them, honey, she works hard for the monkeys so you better treat her right.

I’ve just ruined countless songs for you, but you see my point.

Oh! Except for “Shock the Monkey” by Peter Gabriel. That one’s already about a monkey.

For that one, replace “Monkey” with “Munsi.” You’ll find the result shocking.

As, apparently, will I.

Happy Old Year

Times are tough all around. Not just here, everywhere.

So when 2012 came to an end, and we realized we couldn’t afford a New Year, nobody was surprised.

It wasn’t a big deal, at any rate.

We’re celebrating 1991 instead.

Yes, the futurist in me recoils, I’d looked forward to seeing what 2013 might have to offer, but after all, one has to make do.

I’m at a good party, surrounded by friends, is the fact that I’m ringing in the old year that big a deal?

Right here, right then, there is no other place I’d want to be…

Weekly Prompt Story: Morning Munsi

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/12/02/weekly-challenge-345-the-worst-thing-in-the-world/

Morning Munsi

By Christopher Munroe

In the morning, when I awaken, I’m not terribly bright. But I’m incredibly affectionate.

Which is, in a way, a shame.

Because I don’t dry all the way off after I shower, and my Movember ‘stache hasn’t, to date, been crowd pleasing. So I stagger from the bathroom, throw moist arms around my girlfriend, and nuzzle my bristly face into her neck.

I’m basically the worst thing in the world. Seriously, there’s nothing good about me in the morning.

Still, we make it work.

She loves me, after all.

Or, at least, she can’t afford the rent on her own…

NaNoWriMo Part Two

…and then, as one, we finished, stood, brushed ourselves off and thought about leaving the house.

It was over for another year, and though the schedule had been punishing, we’d somehow managed it.

Some of us had hit 50k, and glowed at the victory. Others hoped to do better next year, but either way we were done, and as one we looked around us, in awe at the freedom and possibilities now open to us and, in one voice from every corner of the globe, asked the same question:

What did I used to do for fun before this month?

Weekly Prompt Story: The Closest Thing to a Story About Marijuana I Have

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/11/25/weekly-challenge-344-marijuana/

The Closest Thing to a Story About Marijuana I Have

By Christopher Munroe

I don’t smoke pot.

I do, however, lock onto challenges with a fervor that’s probably unhealthy.

So, when asked by a girl I was doing a show with if I knew where to score pot in town, I spent the rest of the day calling friends, friends of friends, and their contacts in an attempt to help.

We finally found a guy, he made a delivery to the pub we went to after the show.

Nothing came of it, with the girl. I didn’t even smoke it with her.

That wasn’t what it was about.

I just had to win.

NaMoGroMo

I look, if I may say so, boss. Like a TV cop from the seventies.

Seriously, this thing provides its own swagger. Can a face even swagger?

How could a face swagger?

How could my face swagger?

No idea, but let’s face it, face, you fucking swagger.

It’s the perfect accompaniment to a face that already brings so much to the table, adding maturity and masculinity to my already considerable supply of charm.

And I love it.

I know I say this every year, but this time I mean it. When Movember comes to an end, I’m keeping the ‘Stache.

Weekly Prompt Story: Mine

http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com/2012/11/18/weekly-challenge-343-mine/

Mine

By Christopher Munroe

I’m sick and tired of telling you kids to stay out of my fields.

You trample corn, you dig up carrots, you treat the land like it’s your personal playground. And I’m sick of it.

Thus, I’ve buried explosives just under the ground. I know they’ll also destroy my crops, but the loss of a few crops to keep out intruders is, to me, a small price to pay, and I’ll pay it gladly.

So: Stay out. Starting today, trespassers will explode. Respect my property or die.

It’s not an unreasonable demand.

They’re not your fields after all.

They’re mine.