#Litmash Session 1
The first #Litmash session (part of the #TwitterFiction Festival) was hilariously brilliant.
People suggested brilliant mash-ups such as: RT @ghostfinder: Post-apocalyptic cosy quilt mystery to RT @gnei11: Cormac McCarthy/Mills & Boon, RT @Hellzapalooza Screenplay: Dumb & Dahmer. Two morons go on a road trip so one of them can eat the girl he loves… And @pornokitsch suggested China Miéville vs Jane Austen, sports journalism meets Beowulf and Christopher Priest does LOLcats. All of which were awesome and I may use them tomorrow.
I was supposed to choose just one, but I did three instead, because they were too fun to resist. These were the story prompts:
RT @egomia22: Some Poe with a dash of Dr Seuss #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @HarryReginald: How about a little hard boiled detective crime fiction comingling with my little pony fan fiction #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @WombatSam: Mister Men by William Gibson. #litmash #twitterfiction
Here they are, my stories first and then my favourites by other people, which were seriously kick-ass. (My husband says I can retire and become a “curator of genius”)
My Hardboiled Pony:
@laurenbeukes: My Hardboiled Pony: “Ain’t no rainbows here,” Dash said. “Not since Pinkie Pie went hooves up in an alley.” #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @amymcculloch: That night Pinkie Pie left Vegas. She’d taken him out with her gun, left nothing but glitter. Her signature. #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @WombatSam: Hardboiled Little Pony: Shot a slug inta Applejack, sawed off her conk an’ shoved it inta Fluttershy’s bed. Intimidation is magic. #Litmash
RT @JeanneMarais: Stubbing her cigarette butt out under a pink velvet hoof, she marveled at her abilities, despite not having thumbs #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @just___nick: @laurenbeukes Pinkie Pie stepped out of the shadows, her mane tousled, her lipstick smeared. “I had no choice,” she explained. #litmash
RT @distantcities: She came in like Hurricane Annie, her hips waving hello, all teeth and hair down her neck. “Wanna drink?” I asked. “Neigh,”she said #litmash
William Gibson’s Mr Men
@laurenbeukes: William Gibson’s Mr Men: Mr Trend wanted all the fashions r belong to him. #litmash #Twitterfiction
@laurenbeukes: Ms Cayce was allergic to all sorts of things, to Coca Cola and Levis and branded cock rings. #litmash
RT @gleamingterrier: Mr Nervous found the casing of a nuclear missile in Madagascar, and drummed his fingers as it went up for auction at Sotheby’s. #litmash
RT @distantcities: The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. “I’ll fix it. Let me at the knob,” said Mr Fidget #litmash
RT @WombatSam: William Gibson does Mr Men: “My tickles are already there,” said Mr Silly. “They’re just not evenly distributed.” #Litmash #twitterfiction
Poe vs Seuss
@laurenbeukes: No need to feel leery/ The Raven quoth/I know it is dreary/Don’t get in a froth/You have chores that are chorey/But no more, nevermorey!
RT @kentsbike: I would not, could not stop his heart. He lies beneath the floorboards, Bart. #litmash #twitterfiction
RT @amymcculloch: I do not love that buried clock. I do not love its tick tock, tick tock. #litmash #twitterfiction (seuss x poe)
RT @WombatSam: Poe vs. Seuss: I shall not quoth you on a train, I shall not quoth you in the rain. 1/2 #LitMash #TwitterFiction
RT @WombatSam: I shall not quoth you, you’re a bore, I shall quoth you nevermore. 2/2 #LitMash #TwitterFiction
RT @mum61e: Once upon a morning dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, why green eggs and ham for breakfast again?
RT @mum61e: That the Grinch would steal Christmas was grimly predestinate.
And lastly, @just___nick knocked it out of the park with his amazing ongoing tweet serial (technically against the rules, but rules are made for bending, especially where story is concerned):
The cat in the hat has some straightening to do. He wheels in the handy clean machine, along with thing 1 and thing 2.
The clock ticks away; their mother will be home soon. The cat in the hat smiles at the challenge.
“Thing 1, Thing 2, sweep up these floors. There will be no trace of us, of this I’m sure.” Tick tock, tick tock.
The cat in the hat taps his foot with the clock. “I’m feeling the rhythm, I just cannot stop.”
But the vibrations are just too much to ignore. He realizes it’s coming from under the floor.
“Thing 1, Thing 2, their mother’s on her way. We must go, we just cannot stay.”
They cleaned and they shined and soon they were done. The cat in the hat smiled, he’d had lots of fun.
“Come hither to me, thing 1, thing 2. Dear matriarch, she’s late. Whatever shall we do?”
Thing 1 and Thing 2, the mutes shook their heads. The cat in the cat smiled. “Maybe she’s dead.”
He listened real hard, placed a hand around his ear. The tick tock beating was not a clock but a heart.
He pushed back the rug, bent down to the floor. A board with a nail sat askew so he pulled.
What a surprise, what a horror he found. “O come now, it cannot be. Their mother has been bound.”
Her hands and feet tied up, her face a strange blue, the cat in the hat was scared, but knew just what to do.
He pulled out a hammer and replaced the board, four shiny nails he did strike with great force.
He unrolled the rug, looked at thing 1 and thing 2. “Tell the kids all is well, tell them it’s true.”
“They will never again have cleaning to do.”