The idea is, every week Raven (Views From Raven's Nest) gives you between 8 and 10 words/phrases and you have to create a small but coherent paragraph using every one of them and the same with the mini challenge. You can do either, both or a megawordzzle using all the words, or even all three, it's up to you, you can post them on your blog or email them to Raven. If you join in go to Raven's and put your name on the Mr. Linky so other participants can come visit you.
Complete with my doodles.
This Week's Ten Word Challenge is: sugar bowl, cotton, wizard, fund-raising, Ben Hur, salmonella, lukewarm, telescope, bank, walk-a-thon
Picking up a cotton bud out of the sugar bowl on side of the sink Amanda soaked it in some lukewarm water before correcting the smudge of mascara. Brendan was getting ready to go to his job at the bank but stopped to peer through the telescope into their neighbour’s property.
“I’m sure that’s Charlton Heston, the star of Ben Hur, living there” he told Amanda. “Do you think he could be persuaded to lend his name to help promote the walk-a-thon? How are you getting on with organising the catering for the event?” he asked her.
“It’s all organised. Charton Heston died last year, that’s just a lookalike.” she replied.
Brendan was a wizard when it came to fund-raising but she’d taken over organising the catering after the last event, when huge numbers of people contracted salmonella because he’d decided to do the barbeque himself and hadn’t cooked the chicken properly.
Mini Challenge: challenge, sparkling cider, melancholy, snail mail, master carpenter
“I challenge you to a sparkling cider drinking competition” shouted the newcomer to the melancholy master carpenter sitting in the corner of the country pub.
“Bog off, I’m already drunk. Ask the snail mail, sorry I mean the mail snail, the postman, he’s always up for a challenge!” said the carpenter.
Ben Hur’ on the TV when the adverts came on and a report about the Walk-a-thon that was being planned in the town. As a master carpenter with his own lucrative business, he liked to put something back into the community and this was as good a way to do that as any other, so he telephoned asking for details and was told the information would be sent by snail mail. He was always willing to do anything to help fund-raising events; unfortunately it usually involved him volunteering his staff for any challenges.
“You can enter as a team” he told the men “you could all dress up as wizards!”
The men didn’t look too keen.
“Don’t look so melancholy, I’ll pay for bit of a party for you after the event, with plenty of food and drink” Joe offered.
This was enough to spur the men into action, they organised costumes and collected sponsors from friends, relatives and local businesses, who were all extremely generous in their pledges. They went out training in the evening and at weekends until the big day arrived.
The party Joe had promised turned out to be a lukewarm affair. Curled up sandwiches and sparkling cider, hardly a reward for all their hard work, they were annoyed to say the least and especially when they were all taken ill the following day with something akin to salmonella.
A month later they’d collected all the sponsor money which totalled £30,000, and they entrusted it to Mrs Cotton, Joe’s secretary to bank. They were shocked when, a couple of weeks later, Mrs Cotton didn’t turn up for work and they found out the walk-a-thon money had disappeared. They didn’t need a telescope to see what had happened - Mrs Cotton had done a runner with the proceeds of the walk-a-thon! How low could one stoop?
Joe was mortified, he couldn’t believe it he told them, he’d trusted her implicitly! There was no way he could replace the missing money it was just too much but as a gesture of goodwill he offered to make a donation of £200.
In the suite at the hotel Mrs. Cotton answered the door to room service. She had fled abroad with the money and had met up with her lover. He wouldn’t be able to stay with her permanently but she was happy to enjoy a life in the sun, whilst he carried on working and visited her every few months.
“Shall I be mother? “How many lumps” she asked Joe, as she poised the tongs over the sugar bowl.