Today's Word: Jowl

Hansel rested his fat jowl against the shotgun's cool butt. His arms burned from keeping it raised so long, but he didn't dare let the barrel drop.
"Not so all-powerful now, eh granny?" he asked.
"I can't eat anymore boy, I'm fit to burst," said the witch.
"Oh, you'll eat it. You'll eat the entire gingerbread house, chocolate shingles and all, else you'll be having lead peas for dessert."

Today’s Word: Tchotchke


Merritt was the perfect woman: bright, funny, slim, and attractive. Her girlfriends back at Harvard had alternated between calling her Fem-Superlative to her face and Faux-Barbie behind her back. Their jealously led to a number of botched pranks, the most hilarious coming about when they attempted to steal several pieces of her jewelry and sell them to a local pawnshop. Unfortunately for the girls, Merritt had chosen that day to clean out Spot’s tank. The precious jewels, of which they were so proud, turned out be nothing more than goldfish bowl tchotchke.

Note: At the advice of my favorite reader, I have decided to discontinue my serialized story, The Skirl. Will I still post daily short fiction exercises? Of course. Will you get to find out what happens to your favorite Skirlie, Stan? Not here. Was anyone reading this thing anyway? Ahh, I don't think so.