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Prompt: Do as the Romans do: speak Italian. Have your characters, who are arguing about something (whatever you like) use some or all of the following words and phrases:
Dove? (Where?)
Buona notte (Good night)
Ha un gelato? (Have you any ice-cream?)
una crema de barba (shaving cream)
E compreso il servizio? (Is service included?)
E sulla strada sbagliata (You're on the wrong road)
"That's it. That is so just it." Susan flung down her serviette and sprang to her feet. "It's just one too many times, Vincenzo. Hell, it's ten too many times. I won't have you doing that in my house!"
Vince didn't seem to perturbed. "E compreso il servizio?"
Susan advanced on him, seizing a wooden spoon from the sideboard and brandishing it in the direction of the offender. "Sure, sure, you give me those big eyes, and you mock me with your beautiful language! Do you really think I'm going to just let you get away with that?" The spoon quivered at the end of her pointing arm, inches away from the remnants of Susan's dinner plate.
Vince nudged a knot of pad thai noodles with his foot. "Ha un gelato? Una crema del barba? Dove?" came the complacent reply.
"I'll show you gelato," murmured Susan, positively murderously. Dropping the wooden spoon, she seized Vince around the middle and transported him back to his damned parrot home in the next room, then threw the blackout blanket over the cage.
Returning to her ruined supper, she leaned against the dining room table and surveyed her glass of wine. A downy white feather floated on the red sea. Susan's eyes narrowed suddenly at the sound of Vince's muffled voice.
"E compreso il servizio? Buona notte!"
Dove? (Where?)
Buona notte (Good night)
Ha un gelato? (Have you any ice-cream?)
una crema de barba (shaving cream)
E compreso il servizio? (Is service included?)
E sulla strada sbagliata (You're on the wrong road)
"That's it. That is so just it." Susan flung down her serviette and sprang to her feet. "It's just one too many times, Vincenzo. Hell, it's ten too many times. I won't have you doing that in my house!"
Vince didn't seem to perturbed. "E compreso il servizio?"
Susan advanced on him, seizing a wooden spoon from the sideboard and brandishing it in the direction of the offender. "Sure, sure, you give me those big eyes, and you mock me with your beautiful language! Do you really think I'm going to just let you get away with that?" The spoon quivered at the end of her pointing arm, inches away from the remnants of Susan's dinner plate.
Vince nudged a knot of pad thai noodles with his foot. "Ha un gelato? Una crema del barba? Dove?" came the complacent reply.
"I'll show you gelato," murmured Susan, positively murderously. Dropping the wooden spoon, she seized Vince around the middle and transported him back to his damned parrot home in the next room, then threw the blackout blanket over the cage.
Returning to her ruined supper, she leaned against the dining room table and surveyed her glass of wine. A downy white feather floated on the red sea. Susan's eyes narrowed suddenly at the sound of Vince's muffled voice.
"E compreso il servizio? Buona notte!"
Prompt: Quick list the three biggest things you are procrastinating on. How does each one feel to you? Make a simile. (For example, I am procrastinating on writing my will. Simile: It feels to me like a giant boulder covered in velcro.)
I am procrastinating on writing to my mother, as I do every week (procrastinate about it, that is). Even thinking about it makes me feel like a dirty sock that was supposed to be washed last week.
I am procrastinating about sitting down to write. It feels to me like I'm fighting my way out of a jungle of dryer lint.
I am procrastinating from practicing for my voice lesson. It is like a hand has seized my lungs, and a warty toad has taken up residence just behind my soft palette.
I am procrastinating on writing to my mother, as I do every week (procrastinate about it, that is). Even thinking about it makes me feel like a dirty sock that was supposed to be washed last week.
I am procrastinating about sitting down to write. It feels to me like I'm fighting my way out of a jungle of dryer lint.
I am procrastinating from practicing for my voice lesson. It is like a hand has seized my lungs, and a warty toad has taken up residence just behind my soft palette.
.
