# January 2018 - LM - Never Bend Over



## kilroy214 (Jan 4, 2018)

*LITERARY MANEUVERS*

*Never Bend Over*​

The winner will receive a badge pinned to their profile and given a   month’s access to FoWF where you’ll have access to hidden forums and use   of the chat room. 

This is a Fiction writing competition, and the prompt for this month in '*Never Bend Over*' Pick your own title, write about whatever you want, as long as it's related in some way to the prompt.


The Judges for this LM are: TBA
If you want to judge and I left you out, send me your scores by the   deadline. If you're listed here and don't wish to judge, let me know at   once (please).

All entries that wish to retain their first rights should post in the [URL="https://www.writingforums.com/threads/175148-January-2018-LM-Never-Bend-Over-Workshop?p=2129301#post2129301"]*LM Workshop Thread*[/URL]*.*

All Judges scores will be PMed to *kilroy214.* 

All anonymous entries will be PMed to *kilroy214*.


*Rules*













*All forum rules apply.* The LM competition is considered a creative area of the forum. If your story contains inappropriate language or content, do _not_ forget add a disclaimer or it could result in disciplinary actions taken. Click *here* for the full list of rules and guidelines of the forum. 
*No Poetry!*   Nothing against you poets out there, but this isn’t a place for your   poems. Head on over to the poetry challenges for good competition over   there. Some of us fiction people wouldn’t be able to understand your   work! Click *here* for the poetry challenges. Play the prose-poem game at your own risk. 
*No posts that are not entries into the competition are allowed.* If you have any questions, concerns, or wish to take part in discussion please head over to the *LM Coffee Shop. *We’ll be glad to take care of your needs over there. 
*Editing your entry after posting isn’t allowed.* You’ll be given a ten minute grace period, but after that your story may not be scored. 
*Only one entry per member.* 
*The word limit is 650 words not including the title.*   If you go over - Your story will not be counted. Microsoft Word is the   standard for checking this. If you are unsure of the word count and   don't have Word, please send your story to me and I'll check it for you. 












*There are a few ways to post your entry:*














If you aren't too concerned about your first rights, then you can simply post your entry here in this thread. 
You can opt to have your entry posted in *the Workshop *which   is a special thread just for LM entries. You would put your story  there  if you wish to protect your first rights, in case you wish to  have the  story published one day. Note: If you do post it in the  workshop thread,  you must post a link to it here in this thread  otherwise your story may  not be counted. 
You may post  your story anonymously.  To do so, send your story to the host of the  competition. If you wish to  have us post it in the workshop thread then  say so. Your name will be  revealed upon the release of the score. 













Everyone is welcome to participate. A judge's entry will receive a   review by their fellow judges, but it will not receive a score. Please   refrain from 'like'-ing or 'lol'-ing an entry until the scores are   posted.

Judges: In the tradition of LM competitions of yore, if you could send   the scores one week after deadline it will ensure a timely release of   scores and minimize the overall implementation of porkforking. Please   see the *Judging Guidelines* if you have questions. Following the suggested formatting will be much appreciated, too. 

*This competition will close on:*Monday, the 15th of January at 11:59 PM, GMT time.​
Scores would be appreciated by Tuesday, the 30th of January, at the latest. 

Click here for the current time.


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## Terry D (Jan 5, 2018)

The Glass Ballerina (language)
(650 words)


“No!” Boss Jack’s fist slammed down on the desktop, sending a shock wave through the room and making the heavy crystal ashtray sitting beside the old fashioned blotter bounce and pirouette like a glass ballerina. Boss Jack doesn’t smoke – nor does he allow anyone else to in his presence – he just likes the way the glimmering thing dances to punctuate his frequent desk pounding.

“I won’t see that bastard get elected and undo everything I’ve built!”

“But, Boss,” – it was Tripplehorn who spoke first; either the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, or the dumbest – “what can we do about it? It’s an election, we can’t change that.” That cinched it, it was the dumbest.

Boss Jack glared at him, the big veins in his neck bulging like fat-guys in thongs. There were six of us in that room, and five of us knew how close Tripplehorn was to being eaten alive.

“Jack,” Marty Quilling said (Marty was the only one of us who could get by with calling Boss Jack, ‘Jack’) “I think all Trip’s trying to say is, we gotta be careful now.” He shot a, ‘don’t-say-a-fucking-word-I’m-saving-your-life’ glance at Tripplehorn and then continued, “We backed Morton—“

“Cost me a damned fortune, too,” the boss said, leaning back in his chair and fidgeting with one of his rings. He seemed to have forgotten about Trip; a good omen for Tripplehorn’s future.

“It sure did,” Marty continued. “And he ran a damned fine campaign. He still might pull this thing out.”

“Might’s, not good enough, Marty.” Boss Jack pulled today’s, _Sentinel_ from his trash basket, threw it on his desk and tapped it with one thick finger. The headline read; *LATEST POLLS: MORTON DOWN BY 10 POINTS*. “And that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Boss Jack has been running this town for thirty years with a mix of business savvy, intimidation, and no small portion of political influence. Some say he’s mobbed-up, but I’ve never seen it. Sure, he’ll bend the rules so far you can almost hear ‘em crack, and Marty talks about Boss Jack’s ‘friends’ sometimes when he’s tanked, but I don’t think he’d actually resort to anything violent. I don’t think. But he sure does hate the ‘opposition candidate’. He won’t even say the guy’s name around the office; just calls him, “the other guy,” or, “that asshole from Springfield.” Apparently him and that-asshole-from-Springfield have history. Marty Quilling says it goes way back and has something to do with Boss Jack’s ex. I don’t know. Don’t want to. Knowing too much about that would be a good way to get on the boss’ bad side.

“What can we do?” Tripplehorn asked. It was like a fish asking for a hook.

The boss stood up, pulled back the curtains behind his desk revealing a grinning, fifteen foot wide face plastered to a billboard across the street. “Well you can get your ass out there and start diggin’ for dirt on him.”

“But, how—“

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT HOW!” the boss bellowed, fists clenched.  And Tripplehorn was gone.

It got quiet in the room as Boss Jack stood there looking out at the billboard. Nobody said anything for three or four minutes until the boss finally spoke. “You know, Marty, we may have to give our friends out in Skokie a call.”

“Seriously, Jack?”

“Seriously, Marty.” Boss Jack paused for a moment, and then added, “You got a problem with that?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Because you see, Marty, there’s lots of shit I can take. Lots of shit. But there’s one thing I can’t… that I _won’t_. I won’t end up answering to that asshole.” He pointed at the big red, white, and blue billboard with its grinning face and bright white, GET A DO-OVER WITH DOVER logo. “Never.”

He turned back, shaking with rage, and said, “_Never_, Ben Dover!” And the glass ballerina danced again.


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## godofwine (Jan 11, 2018)

Golden Gloves – By Godofwine (648Words, Strong Language)
https://www.writingforums.com/threa...ver-Workshop?p=2130653&viewfull=1#post2130653


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## rcallaci (Jan 13, 2018)

*In the Stillness of the Endless Sea (some swear words)*

In the Stillness of the Endless Sea (650 words)

I need to set the record straight about my devilish dalliances in the Louisiana bayou with that hunk of a man they call Jumping Jack Jimmy Jam Jones. It was getting the Big Guy in the Sky a little hot under His wings.  Normally He pays no mind to my sexual preferences and proclivities, but for some reason his insides exploded every time I played the fiddle and did a little diddle, diddle, with old Jimmy Ding Dang Jones. I needed to calm and douse the fire in his belly   without kowtowing to his machismo machinations and rash impulses; like when he flooded the damn place, destroying everything, except for the Noah clan and his menagerie. 

Let me first make this perfectly clear; I’ll be with whomever I desire and will never bend my knee or submit to his whimsy when it’s to my disadvantage. Jimmy sets my horns on fire, amongst other things. But when God gets jealous; shit happens.

Let me start from the beginning in order for you to familiarize yourselves with the current situation. Handled incorrectly, it can lead into a new apocalypse. I’m in no mood for another Armageddon, well not yet anyway. 

As you might have guessed; I’m that sizzling hot looking finger licking fiddle playing sin loving devil. I call myself Lucy, short for Lucifer. I know Lucifer’s a masculine sounding name, but God’s name is Angeline. I’m also known as the Fiddler around these parts; because I play one mean-assed fiddle. It’s what snared Jimmy Jam to my bosom.  

I’m going to make this creation mythos short and simple without the religious philosophical blather Mankind likes to pontificate about. Then we’ll get to the guts of the story.  

I’m the Moon, the Night, the Female aspect of the Non-Void. That, whom is called God, is the Sun, the Light, and the Male aspect of that same Non-Void. When we’re in balance we’re a great team. When we’re not, chaos and entropy ensues. Together we created the Cosmos, the multi-universes if you will. When we’re out of balance and in one of our nasty spats, a multitude of worlds tend to become toast. I’m the Yin to His Yang, the non force to His force. If this sounds similar to the basic tenets of Taoism, it is. It was I, not Lao Tzu, who wrote the Tao Te Ching.    

Earth was our first creation. It’s very special to both of us. He created Day, I the Night, and all animals’ trees, birds, and bees. God created Man, a male and female in our image. They proved to be a great disappointment. I protect and nurture all earthly things, except for humanity. That’s God’s special project. I find humans to be pretentious, obnoxious, and arrogant, much like God, but without His good qualities. Most of my dealings with Man are to show God they don’t deserve his Love. I have a standing bet with him; to prove that they are not worthy of an immortal soul.   But once in a while there’s an exception. You guessed it, that exception is Jimmy Jam Big Bang Jones.

Jimmy’s a child of the earth. He’s in tune with nature. He has no affinity for heavenly things. All earthly things are beguiled by my fiddle playing except for God obsessed man. My music makes them dance with unbridled joy. One day as I was dancing amongst swamp friends, jimmy danced along beside us. The moonlit night embraced him. He became my companion, acolyte, and lover. 

God felt that Jimmy usurped my Love. 

I wrapped my darkness around God’s light and comforted his aching heart. God is like a puppy, a pat on the head and a kiss on the nose is all it takes for him to know that he’s my true love. Apocalypse averted, at least for now.  Next stop---Jimmy’s witchy woman; but that’s another story...


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## PiP (Jan 13, 2018)

*Never Bend Over Unless Absolutely Necessary  (mature content) Words 635*


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## bdcharles (Jan 15, 2018)

*Crybaby Bridge*


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## Roac (Jan 15, 2018)

*Oblivious* *to the obvious*
*(Language) (645 words)*


James was frustrated._ Never bend over. Really? What a stupid ass prompt!_

The blank computer screen offered no inspiration. The words just weren’t coming. Usually, this was so much easier - the writing forum would post the prompt, he’d think about it, formulate a story, write 650 words and post it. But this time, he had nothing. Zip. Nada. His brain was an empty wasteland. And it had been that way for ten torturous days, as the same three words taunted him. 

_Never bend over. Never bend over._

Sure, there were still a few hours until the deadline. But it was crunch time. He needed to come up with a story. He needed a muse…now. 

His fingers flew over the keyboard as he searched the internet. Maybe there was inspiration through the minds of millions. Twitter, Facebook and Wikipedia all came up empty. He switched to CNN. The news primarily focused on the international community adamantly refusing to bend to Trump’s will.  _Man, I hate politics. _ _Movin’ on._ He read about a drunken woman falling from a cruise ship after leaning over a railing and was now lost at sea. _Nope_. And in Chicago, an ironworker fell forward at the waist, lost his balance and ended up hanging from his safety harness five stories above the ground. _Stupid guy._

Nothing resonated with the prompt.

“FUUUUCK!” James slammed the laptop closed. His rolling chair flew backwards as he got up and paced the heavily matted carpet.

_Never bend over. Never bend…_ _Oh, screw it, I’m out of here._ _I need a_ _change of scenery._ _I_ _won’t_ _let this prompt_ _beat me. NEVER!_

Bending over, he grabbed his hoodie from the floor and stuffed his laptop into his backpack. As he walked from the apartment building, a brisk autumn gust whipped his hoodie open. Zipping it closed, he turned his head to further protect himself from wind-borne debris. Big, bold letters in the window of the neighboring drugstore caught his eye: *LEAVENWORTH* *SOAP – 50% OFF*. The sign gave him pause as he envisioned the sliver of soap on the floor of his shower. _Mental note, pick up soap on the way home._

Carrying on, he arrived at the local coffee shop. The smell of coffee overwhelmed his senses as he opened the door. _Ok, here I go!_ _I’m in the quintessential abode of writing._ _Let the creative juices flow._

With an Americano in hand, James settled into a quiet corner and waited for his laptop to hum to life. He noticed four other people seated with laptops scattered around the shop. They were all furiously typing away. _Probably writing awesome stories. _He hated them instantly.  

The document finally opened; the blank screen and flashing cursor mocked him. _Never bend over.__ Never bend over._

Half a coffee and no words later, his phone buzzed with an incoming text. _Thank God, a reprieve!_ His buddy Clint had messaged.

_You have to check out this link. It’s something we_ _should_ _do!_

Clint had a knack for finding stupid articles. James hesitantly clicked on the link and the headline appeared;* Crossing of English Channel in Floating Bathtub Failed:* *Neville (Nev)* *R. Benn* *from Dover, England* *Rescued.*

“What the… I would _never_ do something like that! Fucking Clint!” James mumbled as he scanned through the article and accompanying photos before placing the phone face down in disgust. He turned back to the empty screen. _Why is this so hard?  Where is this everyday inspiration people are always yammering about?_

With the deadline so near, he knew he was defeated. Letting his fingers work the keyboard, he began to write; *Never Bend Over…* *but this prompt* *sure* *made me.*

In the end, it wasn’t a story… but it was all he had. Gently closing the laptop, he sat back and enjoyed the last of his cooling Americano. There was always next month’s competition.


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## -xXx- (Jan 15, 2018)

here


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