â€œCan you assist me with my mobile armoire?â€ Susie batted her flirty fringes, thick as a German forest. â€œIts mass per unit size is approximately ten to one.â€ The Â Debutante Daily had written that to attract a pecunious hominid, one must Â feign incapacitation at the gathering site of the great winged inanimate beasts, and seal the deal by sounding intelligent.
â€œExcuse me?â€ Â Peter stepped back.
â€œAlas! My mobile armoire is out of reach in its circuitous route.â€ Wrapping a tentacle around his brachium, she pouted with her scarlet-painted orifice . â€œInform me of your personal appellation! Then you may escort me to the street of multiple-wheeled conveyances-for-hire.â€ She batted her flirty fringes.
â€œWhat?â€ Peter barked. â€œSorryâ€¦my wifeâ€¦other side of the terminal...bye!â€ He bolted.
Susie once again extended her scarlet-painted orifice in an outward direction. Her visage then emitted 32,000 lumens. â€œSir, please assist me with my mobile armoire?â€
Liz Husebye HartmannÂ Â (150 words)
One thing that is clear about Rosâ€™ prose is its aversion to calling a thing by its name. Eyes are â€œglobes of glare.â€ When their owners are unhappy, these globes are â€œstuffed with sorrow.â€ Trousers are not trousers; they are â€œthe southern necessary.â€
Please describe a person or object without naming it specifically--
"globes of glare," NOT "eyes"
"square slice of baked wheat," NOT "bread"
"metal traveling contraption," NOT "car"
Here are some completelyÂ optional suggestions to (NOT) use ~
armadillo (hey... I hardly EVER mention them anymore)
And because you'll need more words to play with, you can go up to 150! GO!!