15 Stories for 15 Days: Day six

The 15 for 15 contest is held about once every nine months or so. The way it works is that every day at 8:30 WDC time, a picture prompt is posted. You have 24 hours to post your story that the prompt inspires. Here is the interesting part: You only have 15 minutes to write your story. You can think about it all day but once you start writing, 15 minutes is what you get.

ID: 994771   (Rated: 18+) 15 for 15 Contest   Do you have 15 minutes? Come in and join this contest! by Legerdemain (222)

The contest is limited to 50 competitors. Each day, there are 5 winners. First place will get 1004 points, second place will get 1003 points etc. The person with the most total points at the end of the 15 day contest is the winner.

The prompt for this story is this picture:

My Entry

“What do you mean, I only get one wish?”

The brightly colored squirrel took a moment to polish off another shot of tequila before responding, “I think you may be confusing me with a genie or possibly a mermaid. And, by the way, it’s not really a wish; more of a preference I’d say.”

Buford slammed back his shot and gestured for another round to be brought over.

“This is bullshit, that’s what this is. I found you fair and square and then you go and try to back out of the deal.”

The round arrived and the squirrel, now suffering from “triple vision” grabbed at the center shot and missed. This wasn’t a fair contest. Buford had to weigh at least three hundred pounds while he was maybe pushing three or four. He tried again, this time going for the one on the left. Bingo! He threw it down the hatch and said, “What do you mean you “found” me? I’ve been sitting here in plain sight all night. And there never was any “deal”. You just walked over and started wishing for stuff.”

Buford slammed what had to be his tenth or maybe fifteenth shot. The squirrel had a point. They were really operating without a playbook here. Sure, one could assume that if you found a magical squirrel, there would be some wishes or something. Perhaps he should settle.

“What do you mean I get a preference?”

The squirrel took a moment to apply the some lime and salt to its paw in preparation for the next round. “For instance, would you prefer to go first or second in the next round of darts?”

That was a tough one. Buford ordered another round while he considered the choice.


“What’s with that guy over there playing darts with the parrot,” asked the patron.

“It’s really funny to watch. The guy is so drunk he thinks he’s playing with a squirrel,” replied the barkeep.