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The Girl Least Likely To

Email Sent in by Brian:

Hey. No offense but your profile reads like it was written by someone so high strung. Maybe take a few. Don't know. You have some goodness to say but I am unconvinced you want actual girlfriend. Can you tell I am Kristy. What would you bring me on a date. Never let the other guy win you say but I am not sure if.

What do you cook. I like just about everything made. My mom makes bagels. Bagels are good. Comfort elementary schoolfood. But poppy seeds are little turds. Sorry for language but I am honest and you said you like honest.

No one needs long profile essays. Just tell us who are you. Maybe the girlfriends.




(Premise is a writer's bestie. Why? Click here to find out on this week's Jared's Inkwell. -JMG)

Story Sent in by David:

Sheryl worked in my office and we always had some harmless flirting action going on. She had a boyfriend and I knew my boundaries. But she was fun and we had some good laughs.

One day I while I chatted with her she let slip that she and her boyfriend had broken up. I played it cool but she made the first move, asking me if I was up to see a movie that weekend and do dinner afterward.

We went to see The Internship, which was one of the worst films I'd ever seen. She laughed her ass off at it, so at least one of us had a good time.

Afterward we went to dinner at this pub. She wouldn't shut up about the movie and kept throwing quotes out from it. She kept ribbing me for not liking it but it was all good. It seemed like we were having a really good time and it was good to see her smile and laugh. She even kept touching my arm and her flirting was way more intense than usual.

Not long after our food arrived her phone beeped and she checked it. She gasped and put a hand to her mouth. Then she showed me the text.

It was from a guy named Ross Fusco and he had written, "Are you around? Let's talk."

She said, "It's from my boyfriend. I have to call him."

"Your boyfriend?"

"My ex-boyfriend. Hopefully soon to be my boyfriend again. Do you mind if I go? I have to go. Right now. Bye." She picked up and left after barely touching her food. I thought her behavior was nasty but I stayed behind and finished my dinner.

When I saw her at work the next week, she asked me if I wanted to go out again.

"What about your ex-ex-boyfriend?" I asked.

"We got back together over the weekend then broke up again. We'll see what happens. Anyway, let me know if you want to go on another date."

"I will."

The very next day she swung by my desk to tell me in an irritatingly sing-songy way that she and Ross were back together. "I'm so happy," she said, "It's so nice having a boyfriend and being in a relationship. Maybe you'll find someone nice, someday. Like I did."

"As long as she's not you, I'll be satisfied."

Sheryl stopped coming by my desk after that.


Everybody Comes to Rick's

(Behind every great story is a great premise. Click here to find out more on this week's Jared's Inkwell. -JMG)

Story Sent in by Chaia:

My first date with Colin was at a coffee shop and it went well. Our second date was at a local art gallery, and after perusing around there for a while, we took a walk in a city park close by.

As we strolled, he scratched his crotch and said, "Okay. This is going to sound a little weird. But I need you to trust me on this."

"Okay. What is it?"

"Pull my rick."

"Your rick? What's a rick?"

"You know," he pointed down to his crotch, "My rick."

I laughed out loud. Big time. "You mean your dick? And no, I don't think I'll do that."

He became irritated and said, "I'm not joking. I have a situation and I need my rick pulled. Now are you gonna do it or not?"

"No! I'm not pulling any ricks or dicks, today."

"Then why are we even out?" he asked.

"Good question. Want to call it quits?"

"I guess. If you're not gonna help me out with my rick."

I guffawed again. He said, "Whatever," and was at least gentlemanly enough to walk me back to my car before leaving my life for good.


Booty and the Beast

(Story = character = premise. But how? Click here to find out on this week's Jared's Inkwell. -JMG)

Story Sent in by Louis:

As my first date with Jessie wound down, I reflected on an enjoyable evening. Jessie herself seemed to really appreciate my company. So much so that she asked if we could stay out a bit longer. It was midnight and I was pretty tired.

"What would you like to do?" I asked her. The only things I could think of as options were sitting in my car or a bar, the latter of which would likely be less creepy for a young woman on a first date.

She said, "Anything. I just can't go home yet."

"Why not?"

"Because of the beast."

She said it as if that explained everything. It didn't. "Beast?" I asked.

She said, "When I was little we buried my dead pets in the yard. They've since all combined into one creature that I call the beast."

I laughed but Jessie didn't. She said, "It comes out every few nights and now it's way past due. It just kind of runs around the yard and yips and howls but really late at night I hear it scratching at my bedroom door. I don't want to go home yet."

I said, "I don't think dead pets come back to life."

She replied, "Neither did I until I looked out my bedroom window one night and actually saw it climb out of the ground. I don't know if it's angry at me or wants to eat me or what, but I don't intend to find out anytime soon. I don't want to risk waking up with bite marks all over my ass."

"I know what that's like," I lied, but she didn't seem to register it.

I asked her if she wanted to sit in my car (in case "dead pets back to life and scared to go home" was code for "let's get it on") but she preferred the bar option. While there I practically fell asleep in my drink. She spent most of her time on her iPhone. We finally left and went to our respective homes.

I woke up to some blurry photos that she texted me of what I guessed was her yard post-zombie pet apocalypse. I texted her back, "Is your ass bite-less?"

No reply.



(Why do you love the stories you love? Their premises are strong. But how do you create a strong premise? Click here to find out on this week's Jared's Inkwell. -JMG)

Story Sent in by Sheila:

There was a small independent bookstore that I loved to visit and James offered to take me there as part of our first date. As we browsed, we chatted about various books and authors we liked. Then he asked me who wrote The Help. I said the name of an author that I immediately realized was incorrect.

Before I could correct myself, James clapped his hands right in my face, made a buzzer sound, and yelled, "Wrong!"

It so startled me that I shouted and jumped back. The bookstore clerk even looked up and said, "Shh!"

James turned to her and said, "But she got it wrong! Why are you pissed at me?"

The clerk didn't reply, and James advanced on her. "Hello? I asked you a question! You answer!"

The clerk said, "How about I call the cops if you don't get the hell out?"

James shouted, "I'd like to see you try!"

The clerk picked up a phone and dialed.

"Put down the phone!" James yelled.

The clerk said into the phone, "Hi, I'd like to report a disturbance at Poseidon Books..."

James knocked over a display and ran out. I have no idea if the cops ever caught up with him or not. I apologized to the clerk who told me I had nothing to be sorry about and then I went right home.