HOMAGE WEEK #1: Try too hard to be Ernest Hemingway

The night had come. Brett squinted. It was dark. This was the last day of his life. There was water below him. He was in a boat. In an instant, he felt the night around him. Cold. There was a scar on his back, running from his left shoulder blade down to his right hip. He had got this scar from wrestling. He had wrestled bears. Bears were mean.

‘I’m hungry,’ he muttered, but there was no one there to hear him. He felt the burden of the concept of masculinity weighing down on him. Also, he felt a pressing need to void his bowels. Then, he heard the dull report of a distant gunshot. A previously unmentioned army had begun its advance.

If in doubt, initiate sex

‘Phew,’ said Professor Benkin. ‘It looks like the readings from the Bohm reactor are back at normal levels. That was a close one.’

‘It certainly was,’ purred Alex, stroking his arm. ‘But what should we do to pass the time before the lockdown ends?’

‘I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ Professor Benkin grinned.

Twenty minutes later, the vault door juddered into motion and rose to reveal a group of hazard-suited figures.

‘You took your time,’ said the Professor, putting his socks back on. The foremost figure pulled off her hazard helmet, releasing a cascade of luscious, chestnut-brown hair.

‘We thought you might appreciate some... time alone,’ she said, with a smirk. ‘But you two are going to need all your energy for the journey back.’

‘Why?’ asked Alex.

‘Oh,’ she said, running her fingertips lightly over her Geiger counter, ‘you’ll find out.’

Three hours later, the exhausted scientists arrived back at their lab, only to find a very special visitor waiting for them.

‘Professor Benkin. Dr. Molloy,’ said the President. ‘The Government of the United States wishes to show their gratitude for your heroic efforts.’ He smiled seductively. ‘In any way we can...’

Build tension

Helen reached out for the sandwich, every muscle in her arm tensing with the effort of it. Even now, committed as she was to the plan, she wasn’t sure she could do it. The distance from the sofa to the table might simply be too great. Even if she managed to stretch her already aching arm far enough to touch the sandwich, could she get it off the table and securely into her grip? It was too late to back down now.

She took a deep breath and lunged forward. For a moment, her hand grasped at empty air and she felt the vertiginous pull of the hard wooden floor a full foot, maybe two, below. Then, just as panic was beginning to set in, she felt the soft, crumby sensation of bread under her fingers. This was it! Now she just had to hang on long enough to get it to her waiting mouth and the cheesy, buttery, wholemeal taste of victory would be hers.

Try to cater for all tastes

Peter (or Melanie) loved his (or her) job as a [climate researcher / troubled teen vampire / astronaut / professional wrestler]. Every day he/she went to [the lab / the alley behind the blood bank / Mars / the gym] and did his/her best to [document the effects of global warming / not kill people / set up a viable permafrost retrieval system so that future colonists could have drinking water / slam Deathface Dragon with a clawhold suplex]. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.

The day our story takes place started like any other, but it was a day that would change Peter or Melanie’s life forever. He/she was just [compiling rainfall data / thinking about the transitory nature of human life / calibrating the drilling equipment / doing abdominal crunches] when a stranger walked into the [lab / alley / crater / ring] and, more quickly than he/she had ever believed possible, Peter/Melanie [fell in love / fell in love / fell in love / spin-flipped from the turnbuckle and clotheslined the stranger].

Censor your characters

‘I’ve been a docker for twenty stinking years and now you’re telling me I’m out of a job because of these flipping cut-backs?’ Eddie clenched his fists. ‘Well, you can go forget yourself! I’m blinking angry about this!’

‘For fudge’s sake, Eddie, calm down,’ said his supervisor, spreading his hands in a soothing gesture. ‘It’s not my decision. It’s those blinking numbskulls in management who’ve come up with this frolicking plan.’

‘Yeah?’ muttered Eddie. ‘Well, they’re out of their damp minds. I ought to go up there and smash their flaking heads in.’

‘I talked to them already, Ed. They say they can’t change the situation.’

‘Can’t?’ said Eddie. ‘They can’t? That’s what they always say. It’s can’t this and can’t that and can’t the other. If you ask me, they’re a bunch of–’

‘Eddie,’ his supervisor interrupted. ‘I need you to flapping cool it right flouncing now.’

Drink & draft

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Abuse Alliteration

Charismatic charity chairman Charlie Chung chastised chain-smoking charwoman Charlotte Chambers.

‘Charlotte,’ chattered Charlie. ‘Chaste, childless Charlotte. Charmlessly choking choirs, chomping chorizo chunks, chanting chancel charivaris.’ Charlie chronicled Charlotte’s chronic cheek. ‘Change, Charlotte, change!’

‘Ch!’ chuckled chubby Charlotte. ‘Change? Charlatan Charlie Chung champions change? Charming!’

‘Charlotte,’ Charlie chided. Charlotte chewed chillingly.

‘Choose Christ,’ challenged chagrined Charlotte, channelling Chaplin’s chutzpah.

Fixate on clothing

The door was answered by a woman wearing a square-necked smock dress with a ruched hem. It was light brown with cream details and a subtle floral pattern; the stitching, although perhaps not as durable as it could be, was of a good standard and the general impression was of a high-quality garment, albeit one with a limited lifespan. Her shoes were blunt-toed black leather low-heel pumps, stylish yet comfortable and projecting an air of casual professionalism. Her cardigan was a loose-knit off-white woollen number, available from all good retailers.

‘Is this 57 The Birches?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said. ‘That’s next door.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ I said. I walked up the drive and then down the garden path of the house next door. I rang the bell. After a few seconds, the door was answered by a man in an argyle sweater with grey and blue patterning, the collar of his shirt protruding from the neck...