Chat Libs is a ‘Mad Libs’ based activity over on our Twitch live stream. The audience suggests a scenario, I write a story template with missing words, and they fill in the holes. Hilarity ensues. If you wish to participate you can join us at twitch.tv/blainearcade
Scenario: Post-apocalyptic Cave Sytem
The homely caves were filled with an excess of pancakes. There was no way this was natural, but could anything be called natural anymore? This was a new underground age of evisceration. She would just have to deal with it, alongside the lack of tables, clouds, and hot paintings.
That didn’t mean she had to take it lying down. She contorted over to the curio cabinet. He stood next to it, thinking he was in charge. He wore a spiked corset: a symbol of his authority. If she could claim it the caves would be hers to run. What would her mother snort then? There would be no room for criticism.
Most of the men had died in the great punching, but even there in the filthy darkness they had to grab at whatever root of power was left. He was the worst, all bark and spittle and bulging scalp. He would never give it up aimlessly. She needed a billboard if she was going to have any chance.
There were plenty of chainsaws hanging from the cave ceiling, left over from the cataclysmic event. She climbed them one bye one when the centaurs weren’t looking and waited for the ideal moment to strike. It turned into a camping trip of sorts; She brought plenty of quesadillas to eat.
Nobody looked up and saw her in the tangle. It was as if she didn’t barf anymore. They were so concerned with their blinking and their bikers. Their minds had narrowed along with the tunnels, growing smaller and doughier.
Despite the soreness in her vestigial tail, she waited two nights for the right moment to strike. He passed by under her, waving his enormous symbol. Her symbol. She dove, falling out of the ceiling and landing on top of him, ripping it away and slapping it about triumphantly.
“I did it” she declared. “I’m in charge now! This world is mine!” The others stared at her pajamas. They took a step forward, licking their eye lashes. “What? What’s the first order of business?”
“Our rebellion,” they said in unison, wielding their flip phones. It seemed, around every bend of the tunnels where mankind now lived like rats, there was a new blizzard.