“What the hell is a Chloe Babble?” Frank croaks around a mouthful of
crumpet.
*brushes the crumbs off my
keyboard*
My specter of imminent failure is particularly sour today. Please
excuse Frank’s foul mouth. (I ran out of duct tape a couple of hours ago.)
Now to answer his less than polite question…
A Chloe Babble occurs when I’m being forced to sit through a
particularly nerve-wracking time waiting on something to happen. For example,
sitting in a waiting room at the auto shop. It’s a time when my OCD tendencies
and my panic disorder are at war over which mental illness will take me down
during this tiny window of seemingly endless time. (Yeah, definitely just a
Chloe thing. Don’t feel bad if you aren’t feeling me here. This is, after all,
all part of the babble.)
To bide my time (i.e. cling to my fraying sanity) I write. Of course, I
can’t write on anything useful, on any actual project. No, I can only pepper
out nonsense.
I try not to blog during these times. No one deserves to suffer through
this foolishness with me. But, today, my father’s plane was delayed, his flight
will be landing 2 ½ hours late in Dallas pushing the scheduled Chloe Babble
back into blog time.
I pity you.
Truly.
But here we go…
After heading to this random word generator (http://www.textfixer.com/tools/random-words.php),
I find myself with three unconnected words staring me in the face. This
afternoon’s trio is…
Flophouse.
Admiral.
Adornment.
Now giving myself a strict time limit of ten minutes, I must come up
with a sentence that ties all three words together reasonably, understandably and
enjoyably. (And, no, I can’t just say “These are three enjoyable words:
flophouse, admiral, and adornment.”)
Ok? Got the idea?
Good.
My time starts now…
“The admiral, having been plucked of all adornment by the high-class
whore he’d just spent his last dollar on, sneaked into the flophouse with
lipstick still on his dick and a twinge of regret in his aging eyes.”
-OR-
“The lost souls at the flophouse called him the Admiral although he’d
never laid eyes on a sea and the only adornment of rank that he had was an old
skipper’s hat he’d worn religiously since the summer of ’83.”
Time’s up!
Ooh! Two for the price of one! Don’t you feel lucky?
*utter silence from the suffering
world*
Ok, I think that’s enough torture for you today.
Thanks for keeping me and my crumbling sanity company for a bit. *smiles*
Until tomorrow…
Chloe
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