Three-Legged Improv

Ihe

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Hey guys, how about a bit of literary stretches before going off to the big race? Some harmless improvisation challenges to pass the time sounds marvellous to me, while I grudgingly wait for the next 75, 100, and 300-worders to start.

I don't know if this has been already done here, but if it hasn't, the simple rules are as follow: You give: an item, a profession, and a setting or genre, and then the next person must write up a story (or fragment of one) in no more than 3 sentences using these elements, direct or indirectly.

If these three categories (item, profession, genre/setting) don't work or they run their course, we can pick new ones through a quick poll.

My 3 are: lighter, florist, space-opera.
Have a go at it. Write the 3 sentences and then give 3 elements for the next poster. We'll see if this works.
 
"You!", the teacher called the youngest entity from the aether, "Take some of the energy from within you, and perturb the structure of that gas cloud."
After five million years, the entity responded, and focused itself upon the diffuse material, injecting veins of energy into it, splitting and branching every few light years.
"Oh, I like that!" praised the teacher, "That's clumping nicely. See those shadows. They will become stars. If you watch for long enough, then around those stars will form sparks, flowers of light, streaking away from the stars. They will dream of other stars, make stories, live them out, and eventually wither to black, with the rest of us."

(edit: sorry, not 3 sentences; 3 paragraphs. oops. Still, I enjoyed it for 3 minutes' work!)
 
"Inspector, he's dead," said Constable Smith.
"I can see that for myself," Inspector Morse said. "But who did it?"
Smith held the blood splattered, ancient navigation device in his gloved hands. "Perhaps we should dust this for prints?"
 
Broom-broom the ogre held up his hands from behind the navigation panel of his hotrod spaceship "Firespeedblastercool"--named the spaceship himself. The interplanetary cop blinded him with his flashlight and asked for the ogre's papers, saying something about someone driving straight through a planetary core and extincting a whole civilization and whatnot.

Broom-broom then said something tasteless about how necessary drive-thru services are, and went to prison for completely unrelated reasons to this plot.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

anaconda, accountant, steampunk
 
"700 flasks of Dr. Hexter's Patented Anaconda Oil Cure-All?!" asked Tobias incredulously, peering over his spectacles at the tattered accounts.
"Oh don't worry, it doesn't actually work," laughed Martha. "But it keeps the Mary Sue's pistons running smooth as silk!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

soap, teacher, supernatural romance
 
When she appeared out of a puff of smoke I said, "So, back from the underworld again, for a little fun."
As she turned toward the bathroom I said, "And use soap this time, or you'll stink of brimstone."
Well, you know, with what we're about to do, someone has to teach the demoness proper etiquette.

comedy, shape shifter, incompetency.
 
Awful Joanna forgot to lock the cage, and Vadee was out as soon as she left for work, ready to exact revenge on the most sadistic pet owner in the world. Vadee the ferret turned into Mike the accountant, something that happened only during blood moon nights like this one, and phoned IRS. Joanna had been very naughty; he would poop in her wardrobe after that.


silencer, janitor, urban fantasy
 
As the musician blew his horn he knew something was wrong with the tune. The more he played the stranger he felt, the boundary of reality seemed to rip with that last chord. Unable to stop, he could only play on as the earth gave up its dead, and they began to dance to his tune.

Lead pipe, zoologist, murder mystery
 
"And what's that around the base?" asked the keeper, gesturing to a small patch of black fluff snagged on the pipe's rough-cut stub.

"Feathers, my dear, but note the colour: black, not blue, which - I think you'll agree - rules out our friend Miss Peacock," said DeLittle, in full flight now, the doctor's gestures increasingly animated. "All of which leads me to only one possible conclusion: it was Professor Penguin, in the aquarium, with the lead piping!"

---

anvil, magic-user, fantasy
 
In Asgard the Pixie druid summoned the mist to hide her leading the sliepnir away. Taking the eight legged beast to the local blacksmith. he scratched his head I'll need a bigger anvil.
--------------------

Dog, matches, comedy
 
As the Almighty Thread Starter, I'll invoke section 2F, clause 167-b of Forum Law, and give the next three in Droflet's stead to maintain the flow of things:

-poison, merchant, high fantasy

PS: Droflet also incurs a penalty of -3 points in my newly-made Penalty Chart. I'm keeping an eye on you Drof--just another Breakfast Club troublemaker going against the system. Tsk tsk tsk. If you want to contest my verdict, you will have to take it up above the local powers, all the way to @The Judge.
 
I took the stand to say my peice."The merchant of Campor, his prices are extortionate, his wares sub standard, the elves refuse to trade with him, he is evil beyond compare." There is more than one type of poison I whisper to my companion.
 
The stench of the merchants’ corpse had attracted a multitude of insects and scavenging beasts to the entrance of the cave. The paladin unsheathed his sword, withdrew a vial of dragons bane poison, and then duly applied it to the tip of the weapon. Edging slowly past the carrion that lay piled at the opening, with the light fading at every step, he heard the breath of his foe approaching.
 

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