I’m a little slow on the response to this challenge from Chrysalis Dreams. In summation, produce a paragraph using the following words.
spaghetti, larkspur, Prilosec, roaring lion, adamant, green green grass of home, paradox, filibuster, face cream, trout fishing
I cheated a tad and produced a small scene, but it’s mostly dialog so it reads quickly.
Lisa stares at the television above the restaurant’s bar. Even on mute she can tell the C-SPANned senator has worked himself up into quite the filibuster. His crinkled red face and large hand gestures indicate an adamant patriotic call to action if ever there was one.
“Hey, do you need anything from the store?” Bill says as he scans the menu.
She doesn’t respond. She’s too busy wondering why chain restaurants bother to have TVs. They’re mounted too high up to see properly. Even if they weren’t permanently left on mute they would be difficult to hear over the various restaurant noises.
“Hey. You. Store. Anything?” Bill tries again.
And why C-SPAN? Is the bartender a poly sci major? Surely they can’t think that the clientele of a family-friendly chain restaurant is just so caught up on C-SPAN that they might not eat out unless it’s featured above their heads as they chow down on greasy fries.
“Did I tell you my father called?” Bill says to the side of Lisa’s head. “He was kidnapped by aliens while trout fishing.”
Lisa doesn’t register the words but she can tell there’s a tone in Bill’s voice. Her busy thoughts reluctantly drag themselves away from the ongoing restaurant TV paradox. She looks at him.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I’m going to stop by the store on the way home tonight, do you need anything?” Bill says with exaggerated enunciation.
She smiles sardonically.
“Well, I need—oh no, never mind,” she says.
“I need face cream, but I’ll just get it myself.”
“I can get if for you.”
“You’ll get the wrong kind,” she says gently.
He rolls his eyes.
“You get the wrong fabric softener once…” he sighs.
“I said unscented and you got Spring Valley. I can’t use Spring Valley because it makes me itch,” she says. “Why do they have to put scents in everything? I don’t even know what a spring valley is supposed to smell like!”
“Like cooing birds, new larkspur, and the green green grass of home, I imagine,” Bill says philosophically.
“Hmph,” Lisa replies.
The waitress appears and asks them for their order.
“Cob salad,” Lisa answers.
“The chicken parmigiana sandwich,” Bill says.
“That comes with a side of spaghetti or fettuccine,” the waitress says.
Lisa gives him a look.
“I skipped breakfast,” he says, “and my stomach is a roaring lion. From the green green spring valley.”
Lisa smiles while rolling her eyes.
“I hope the lion remembered his Prilosec,” she sighs.