Mechanic (an acrostic poem)

Image: By Sicnag – 1964 Oldsmobile 442 2 door Hardtop, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=45448417

Machine magician, doctor of octane studies, wrench whisperer

Every one of those titles match well with her engine grease pedicure

Changing the blown out head gasket of an Oldsmobile 442

Her wizardry breathed life back into that smoke belching dragon

And by the end it bent to her will, purring with all eight cylinders

Now ready to consume as much blacktop and gasoline as could be reached by the tip of the pedal

It was the masterful application of her sorcery and to celebrate its completion she pushed her mount to the max

Causing twin black streaks as evidence of her passing as she rode the beast into the distance

Fire (an acrostic poem)

Image: camptrip.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/campfire_m.jpg

Flames soared up into the night sky, infusing the area with smoke

It lit up the other campers’ eyes and smiles as they witnessed

Reaching for her guitar, Mary began a new song of praise

Everyone was soon singing along as they shared all shared a spiritual spark

Throw (an acrostic poem)

Image: i.ebayimg.com/images/g/frkAAOSwWG5ej9cM/s-l640.jpg

Tossing insults like darts and getting bullseyes

He smiled at the silent marks drinking their cheap whiskey from the bottle

Reaching for a cigarette, he lit it and blew smoke at them

Only there still wasn’t a peep.  He closed his eyes and took another drag

Which is why he didn’t see the bottle fly into his nose

Bacon (an acrostic poem)

Begging for porky goodness

As he smelled the applewood smoke drifting in the air

Cliffy could practically taste it now

Of course, waiting for it to be done was the hardest part

Not to mention he had to hope his humans fed him some

 

Image: food.fnr.sndimg.com/content/dam/images/food/fullset/2017/1/9/3/FN_istock_how-to-cook-bacon-pan_s4x3.jpg.rend.hgtvcom.1280.960.suffix/1484010054005.jpeg

Zombified (a 100 word story)

The call for brains escaped Bob’s mouth.  He remembered the good old days before the blight had swept the realm.  Brains were everywhere, plentiful if a bit pickled in the alcohol and first and second hand cigarette smoke.  Over time the smoke for the most part cleared, but then the new blight began to spread.  More and more zombies were created, leaving him starved for the brains he craved.  Still Bob soldiered on, looking for that most precious commodity.  Those damn screens have destroyed so many brains, leaving Bob to lecture at those zombies instead of teaching.  Brains.  Brains!  BRAINS!