“First man on the moon yo!” chortled Neil Armstrong, knowing full well that this statement would remain only his. Then with more seriousness, he said “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind!” Claps, like static hit his headphones, but he ignored.
Over half a century later, the clock struck midnight and Mallika Sherawat, a Bollywood bimbette, turned forty. Heartbroken that she would look rather shabby in her skimpy clothes, she left her party in search of magic to turn her young again. “Stop dripping all over the carpet” she told a drenched undertaker, who had braved the rain and come to her party. She couldn’t care less.
A goat blocked her way and she ran into it without looking. “Move aside Kennedy!” she told her pet goat, who having found a liking to her dress decided to munch happily on it. It was her answer to Paris and her pet pooch; only, she had refused to divulge it to the media. She had started hating all that attention anyways.
She got out her umbrella and stepped outside. “You are going to die tonight!” the ghost of Neil Armstrong crooned as it floated above her. “You are dead already!” she screamed at it and lightning flashed. She was suddenly standing with a broken umbrella, soaking, and a handsome John F Kennedy for company. “Always a fan” he said, bits of her dress sticking on to his drenched suit, as he locked her in a kiss…
[A 250 word exercise undertaken that starts with Neil Armstrong going on the moon
mission, and ends with Mallika Sherawat kissing John F Kennedy. Other characters in the
story should be a goat, an umbrella, and an undertaker. Oh, and if you like this, thank R.R. , who's
comment stirred me to get posting once again. Check out his rather awesome blog here.]