Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.
Alec K Redfearn was scandalized to discover that his archenemy, Baron Mordo, had put a curse on his bag of Luden’s cough drops.
“By the Flames of the Faltine! That damned Baron Mordo has befouled the cough drops I would use to help me stop chewing tobaccy! Revenge!”
Alec had encountered the fiendish Mordo, enswathed in black and purple robes that pulsated around him like a Portuguese Man O’War, at the CVS in Wayland Square. Redfearn was approaching the cashier with his plastic bag of cough drops.
“Redfearn! I curse your cough drops!” bellowed Baron Mordo, gesticulating wildly.
“By the Mystic Moons of Munnopor!” reflected Alec K Redfearn. “That must have been the exact moment!”
Conjuring The Winds of Watoomb, Redfearn flew to White Electric, his hair twisting like the windsock at an airport.
He descended near the pogo stick rack.
Instantly, a thought penetrated him like an Icy Tendril Of Ikthalon!
“By The Hoary Hosts Of Hoggoth! What if my old lady should swallow an accursed cough drop upon her return home from pistol range?”
Alec reconjured The Winds Of Watoomb, which would prove to be a real bitch when the paperwork arrived at the end of the month, and shot back home, his socks reverberating like the tires of a P51 Mustang.
He was horrified to discover his archenemy, MORDO!, arriving at his doorstep on his macabre Schwinn Stingray.
“By The Demons Of Denak! What the hell do you want, Mordo?”
“Ha! Forfeit your position as The Guardian Of Providence’s Crunk Chalice or I shall transform a player to be named later into wax paper!”
“Ah, your mother blows, Mordo!”
Waving his hands in manner not unlike the members of The Four Tops, Alec K Redfearn invoked the Seven Suns of Cinnibus, which melted the snow, scorched the asphalt and did several hundred thousand dollars of structural damage to the artisan scented candle place.
“Fuck it, Redfearn! You burnt my robe!” hissed Baron Mordo.
“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from, Baron!” sneered Alec K Redfearn.
“Ah, you ain’t got brain one!”
“Ah, you’re fulla shit, ya hump.”
Baron Mordo enshrouded himself in The Vapors Of Valtorr, vanishing from sight, presumably to return.
Alec K Redfearn produced a package of Timberwolf Long Cut Winter Green chewing tobacco from his cape before flying away.