Jake Martinez

Words to use: Warthog, confessional booth, adult diapers.

It was a very busy morning for Jimmy Davis. Jimmy worked for a newspaper company delivering company related materials for vendors that order their paper. Getting up late due to an evening partly remembered, Jimmy managed to put on the worst possible attire you could possibly imagine. It’s safe to say that at first glance he appeared to have been mangled by a warthog on the way to the office. After parading through the hallways of his crowded building, he abruptly bumped into, Francis, his coworker and occasional friend, if you consider a man who takes you out in the middle of the night to demonstrate how to pick up girls in your local bars. Jimmy looked at his friend with the most confused look. Francis had smile on his face as if he knew something that no one was supposed to know but was eager to share it with the world. He had reminded Jimmy of their late night adventures through the city and wanted to get the four one one on the hottie Jimmy was flirting with. All of a sudden Jimmy felt like he was in a confessional booth spilling his inner secrets and thoughts, but was being broadcasted to the whole world since the receiving end was not a priest but Francis. Considering all the details Jimmy gave, a lot of the night was still a blur. He could only remember up to the eighth or ninth shot of the night. Francis was receptive, his smile was far reaching from ear to ear. Jimmy just thought nothing of it. After the brief yet detailed reenactment of the almost forgotten night, Jimmy decided to move back to his quiet sanctuary, his desk. Having read through his entire day’s schedule, he began to gather his materials and documents that needed to get delivered. Right as he was about to leave his desk, he got a “you’ve got mail” notice on his computer. Sitting back down to read it, the subject line read “the forgotten night, words could not describe.” Moments passed,and Jimmy was motionless as a statue as his eyes focused on the screen in front of him. The email had no text, just an image embedded in the body. It was Jimmy sprawled across the motel floor wearing an adult diaper with the girl completely mortified. The email was signed, “good times, – Francis.”

About a week ago, Gab and I decided to start a new game where we can put our creativity to use. It all started with me telling her that I felt like writing a short story and she suggested that we play a game where we use 3 words (a noun, a location and a random word) to create a short story. I thought it was a great idea. Let’s see what kind of stories we can come up with. You can view our dedicated blog for this by clicking here.

Disclaimer: This is in no way any attempt to showcase my writing abilities, but more focused on creating an outlet for my creativity and to express myself in telling stories.