Back to School Challenge: Results Here!

Five of you chose to dump the blogger's usual narcissism for a bit and aim for a higher place by entering this challenge. Ok it was the silly season but frankly Ms R expected better. You were all having storming sex with someone you just met? Ms R does not think so. Meanwhile the rules were that you had to write something which included the following elements: a neighbour, an argument, an obsession,a delivery and one of - a fishtank, a statue, a dead fox or counterfeit money.

As expected, the quality of entries was very high. Ms R is very smug about the calibre of her readers and she has good reason to be.


Moi, gave a not so languid, comic Southern accent to a seamless story of marital infidelity. You always know when a story works for you when you can picture the characters and here, Ms R easily could which showed Moi knew what she was doing.

“Dalton!” shrieks the woman as she wobbles towards us, her heels trying to negotiate the gravel of the drive, “You shit ball!” She is holding something close to her chest, about a foot long and wrapped in white cloth, like a swaddled baby.


Conan Drumm's contribution was a classic short story which illustrated how much direct marketing and estate agents can really piss people off. His ending is a stunner (you have to go there to read it) and the whole really quite effortless.

We thought nothing of it and put it in the bin. However, it had a different effect on PJ who never gets post and who lives fifty years in the past when marketing and direct mail have yet to be invented. I realised PJ could read when the postman told us he had charged out after him with a slash hook, shouting and roaring. The postman gathered that PJ's house and land were not for sale. Ever.


Anonymous Boxer kept telling Ms R she was a not a writer. Which makes her contribution all the braver. Ms R was very impressed with the fact that Lady Boxer seems to have her own very distinct voice and quite an experimental one as well. She also loved the spare writing, a nod to great American literature and a fast way into Ms R's good books.

The last day I saw her she brought me fish.
While moving things into the attic, she discovered the old aquarium.
She asked why it wasn’t in use. I told her it (once) belonged to someone who no longer lived.
I told her it was filled with beautiful fish. I told her it had been a source of great happiness (for us all.) I told her I missed it (all.) She insisted on bringing it down. Cleaning it up. Plugging it in. She arrived with colorful, exotic (fancy) fish and literally clapped her hands after releasing them,



Ms Cake stood in her garden and wondered when, and how, it had become a resting place for dead animals rather than live plants. This story also felt seamless with all the elements clicking together and strong description.

I suppose I should have tried to look on the bright side, at least it was not stopping us from parking the cars - hurrah for the considerate foxy. But my stoic side was not encouraged when my neighbour took her parcel, looked down her nose and said 'I see you have a corpse in your front garden!'

I return home immediately to assess the full extent of the renard problem and realise very swiftly that this is not something that I can just carry by spade and bury in the small but rapidly growing cemetery in my back garden. So I telephone the council and explain the nature of my predicament.


Not surprisingly, Luka took the poetic option in a very modern mail order tail entitled The Postman Always Knocks at No.5. Here's a sample.


“I think this is yours,” I say with a smile
Handing over the brown cardboard box
“He brought it to me, though it says 'No. 3',
When nobody answered his knocks.”

The Bardette's deft skill at weaving together the required elements was rather masterly. Ms R has never ever thought of describing a dildo as a 'figurine' and for that alone, big brownie points are due.


...They really aren’t mine, you nosy old cow!
These are items I’m hoping to sell
It’s just a figurine, it’s nothing obscene,
And fabric to package it well.”

...Next time I’m asked if I’ll sign for your post
As it’s too big for your letter box,
I will tell him no way, just take it away
Go pick up your own cocks and frocks.”

Finally, anyone who can craft the jaunty phrase, 'cocks and frocks' deserves to win. Talented Luka it's yours. Please send your postal address so you can receive your prize. Second prize (well in name) goes to Anonymous Boxer for crafting her own writing style and producing a good story as well.

Ms R wishes to thank everyone for making the effort. It's been an absolute joy reading your entries and worth trying to understand Blogger's formatting to write about it. As for the rest of you please go to the links to read the full entries. It's worth it.

There is every reason to think that future challenges will be successful and Ms R hopes that more people will enter.


Big Thanks and Hugs to All.