Protagonist: Amanda, with amazing legs
Goal: to write the Great American Novel
Obstacle: the barista at Starbucks
Action: gets married
***THIS HAS NOT BEEN EDITED. THE TOPIC WAS RANDOMLY DRAWN FROM THE WRITER’S TOOLBOX AS A WRITING EXERCISE.***
Amanda was the ultimate pseudo-intellectual. She told anybody who would listen that one day she would write “The Great American Novel”. This particular life goal annoyed the daylights of one of the baristas at Starbucks. At first, you’d think this was because the barista was a jealous and nosy but that wasn’t the case at all. Amanda was at Starbucks from opening to closing. She would rarely shut up about her fictitious novel and would spout off her views to anyone in the vicinity. Amanda was always in the vicinity since she sat at the table nearest to the cash register. She liked to be in the thick of the action. “You never know if the dull repetitive life of strangers might be the inspiration I need to write my Best Seller!” The poor Barista had to endure Amanda’s self-indulgent ramblings during every shift. Oh, and to add insult to injury, Amanda’s voice very high pitched nasally voice.
The other side of Amanda’s disadvantage was her appearance. Her hair was dishwater blonde and looked like a Brillo pad that was perching upon a square shaped head. Her tiny eyes were miles apart. Her eyebrows had been mistaken for miniature brown fuzzy caterpillars more than once. Her nose was average but the nickel size hairy mole at the end ruined any chance it had of being nondescript. The poor thing always gave off the impression that she was sucking on a lemon because her lips were short and thin. Her giraffe-like neck transformed into linebacker worthy shoulders. She was rocking a total Santa Claus belly; it even shook like a bowl of jelly! She had wide hips and where a big bubble butt should have been… she had cheeks that were as flat and floppy as a deflated balloon. Ending things off on a positive note, Amanda had amazing legs. They were long and shapely. They made Tina Turner’s legs look dull and comparison. Unfortunately for Amanda, her goddess-like legs connected to hobbit feet. They were fat, hairy, nasty things. Thank the stars she usually kept them covered. Once, she made the mistake of wearing Birkenstock sandals and a child actually ran in fear.
After three years of writing and running her mouth, Amanda had finally written “The Great American Novel”. In reality, her book was a steaming pile of crap. An innumerable amount of publishers had rejected her dismal attempt at writing. One had even stabbed it with a red pen and returned it looking like bloody Swiss cheese. Amanda refused to give up. She decided that her only chance at success was to marry rich. It would give her the means to publish her literature on her own. She did what most awkward and ugly people do; Amanda joined an online dating site. She created a profile (full of lies of course) and posted a photo of her legs as her user image.
Besides to slinging coffee, the Barista was a mid-level hacker. She kept deleting Amanda’s Match.com profile. She felt it was her duty as a fellow human being to protect the men from the awfulness that was Amanda. One day, Barista called in sick and Amanda lured in a man who was her perfect match. He was a good-looking guy, except for his lumpy, hairy, short chicken legs. Because of this, he was immediately attracted to Amanda’s amazing legs.
He wasn’t rich but didn’t mind getting cash advances to help Amanda self-publishing her Great American Novel. Much to Amanda’s joy, as she handed her book out to random people on the street, they seemed excited. People even started coming up to her and asking for her free book! She hadn’t realized that the people who appreciated her novel were homeless. The 2000 page manuscript was great kindling for a trash barrel fire. (And a fair substitute for toilet paper!)