Also here's a fun website I came across. I usually get my random words from the dictionary but found this site instead and it gives you the number of random words you want!
I chose four words and thought they were just hysterical. Hence the below writing exercise. Give it a try, if nothing else, it gives you a good laugh at very random words. I had so much fun doing this exercise that I didn't want to stop. It ended up longer than usual. And I was so curious to see where it would go. Now it's your turn!
My words: Hosepipe, remote control, fault, Satan
Hosepipe in hand, I crept along the house, peeking in the windows swiftly, not being seen. Or so I thought.
Sneaking around to the back of the house, I opened the screen door. Straight out of a movie, no lie, the hinges creaked. And not just when I opened it, it creaked before, during and after. Ssshhhing them did not help.
My sweaty hand had a loose grip on the pipe. My weapon of choice. Or more accurately, the only thing I could find.
The TV was on in the living room. I was in the kitchen on squeaky clean linoleum of all things. I couldn’t be quiet if the TV volume was all the way up and the person watching had earbuds in blasting their favorite tunes.
The element of surprise was so far gone I didn’t know what to do.
So I slipped off my shoes and tiptoed towards the lighted archway of the living room.
The remote control rested on the coffee table. Large sneakered feet were planted on the floor in front of the couch. The fat, bald man with a dark bushy mustache had his head back, mouth wide open. Sleeping! On my couch! What the…
It was my fault the robber was in the house in the first place. I lost my key and ran to the store thinking the house would be okay for a few minutes. Okay, ran to the mall and maybe I saw some friends there but I didn’t stay long-er than an hour or two maybe three. But that’s no excuse for someone to break in – well, open the door and walk in and sleep on my couch. What kind of a burglar does that? Not a very good one.
Did I mention I also lost my phone? No? Why else would I be risking my life instead of calling 9-1-1.
A hand came from the dark behind me and covered my mouth. The other hand and arm dragged me back into the kitchen. I might have peed then.
The person turned me around and I saw it was my friend Jesus. Not Jesus Christ but Jesus Medina. My eyes bugged so far out of my head I could barely focus. He let go of my mouth slowly.
“Satan’s shit, Jesus! What the…”
He put a finger to his mouth and produced my phone from his pocket.
I grabbed it and pushed him through the kitchen door outside. It creaked like it was going to break right off. It sounded as if the whole neighborhood would wake. Everyone except the stranger on the couch.I stared at Jesus like I wanted to murder him and hit 9-1-1 instead.