My Writers Circle
The Coffee Shop => Writing Games & Challenges => Topic started by: robinrobison on January 12, 2013, 04:03:20 AM
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Having an uncanny knack for walking into the kitchen precisely as the teapot whistles is hardly a talent. It’s hardly a talent and Rufus knew it.
**Compose a poem, short story, what have you based on this sentence. The cumulative works shall be known as the Teapot Salute. Have fun :P **
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An uncanny knack for walking into the kitchen precisely as the teapot whistled, was hardly a talent, and Rufus knew it
and yet,
with youthful optimism
he added it to his
résumé.
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Having an uncanny knack for walking into the kitchen precisely as the teapot whistles is hardly a talent. It’s hardly a talent and Rufus knew it.
On reaching the hob
without opening his gob
he refused to admit
his talentless gift
was something he should be ashamed of.
As steam billowed round
the whistling sound
in the kitchen grew shrill
and continued until
Rufus turned the knob to bring the gas down.
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The Teapot Whistled
It happened again. Rufus
studied the silent kettle,
then
the
whistling
teapot.
Flucking mushrooms.
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Having an uncanny knack for walking into the kitchen precisely as the teapot whistles is hardly a talent. It’s hardly a talent and Rufus knew it. Yet that talent eluded him. Melted down to a massed mixture of metal, plastic and with a hint of herbal tea, the remains of his possible cuppa bubbled once more before dying into hardness.
Reaching down into the cupboards Rufus pulled out another. "Oh well, 7th time's a charm." But inside he wondered if perhaps nipping down to the cafe might be quicker.
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The philosopher
pointed
his Grayson Tighe,
limited edition,
fountain pen
at Rufus. "What
makes you think the kettle was silent
before you entered the kitchen?"
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Having an uncanny knack for walking into the kitchen precisely as the teapot whistles is hardly a talent. It’s hardly a talent and Rufus knew it.
One day, inordinatley knack-less, Rufus walked into the kitchen where no teapot whistled. He walked out and back in again. Silence. Disoriented, he stopped, looked towards the stove and discovered the teapot had been replaced by an shiny, new electric kettle. Rufus the Doofus stared at the atrocity on the shelf opposite, an abomination to trusted kitchen appliances in his mind. It didn't even have a whistle to sound, just a bloody button that shone while the kettle heated up and clicked off once it had reached the boil.
Rufus reached boiling point himself. Steam flew from his ears, his face turned redder than the fire extinguisher by the door.
First his ears sprang off. His nose melted and dribbled down his face. Rufus screamed -- a horrible sound pitched to match the old teapot's whistle as his lungs finally collapsed and a dying wheeze took its place.
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Teapots don't whistle, kettles do.
Has nobody bothered to think this thing through?
Unless you exist in a Disney cartoon
with a cute singing teacup and a tap dancing spoon?
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It was in a month of sundays
and somewhere on my Nelly,
that Rufus made a teapot whistle
in a cartoon on the telly
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As down by the hearth of the cold coal fire
lay the remains of the teapot, result of Dads ire
Lucky for me his aim was off,
or the remains in the fire would've been my top
no tea I'm afraid for me or you, a bottle of pop
will have to do you.
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The day the teapot whistled
the kettle shook its bum,
it saw that lovely curving spout
and whispered "Come, Boy. Come."
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five minutes every hour the kettle whistled
no gas or fire for getting our vittles
but a lectric hob was our main means
of boiling our wattah for coffee or tea.
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As Rufus walked into the kitchen
he heard a whistle blow,
Was it the kettle or the tea pot ?
he really didn't know.
They lived close by the tracks
and every hour a train passed by,
' bout that time Rufus put the kettle on,
nobody knew exactly why.
His mother took him to the specialists
to sort the problem out.
Then when they questioned Rufus,
he replied," you don't have to ****** shout ! "
The doctor said, "he's deaf in both ears
and the whistle' s in his head ".
But all of this is just a dream
'cause Rufus is fast asleep in bed.
edited. puntuation
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Brilliant Yel, I loves it. You have a great knack of ritin! :)
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Rufus now bristled
as the kettle wolf whistled
as it did every day
in an insolent way.
It’s sexist he mused,
I am being abused,
I’m just making tea,
don’t objectify me
with your sick sordid dream
to squirt me with steam.
Those outdated ways
are illegal these days -
pointing me out
with your prominent spout.
I call it assault.
Don’t say it’s my fault
I won’t be blamed
if your passion’s inflamed.
And if you don’t cease
I will call the police.
And he fumed in this mood
drinking tea in the nude.
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I always look forward to your work Dyl. You're really funny, and make me laugh (sometimes out loud!) Thanks for this, Bri.