November 20, 2011, 2:27 pm
Posted by: KingKool

Here’s an entry that has fallen through the cracks. Recently, we had a Nano-Rhino contest for a 100 word story with a few common elements in it. We awarded Dylan Mead the prize for this entry:

Life is difficult for a nano-rhino like me. You may have heard of the North American House Hippo. Their preferred diet of the crumbs of peanut butter on toast, and their threatening demeanor, endangers the very lifestyle of my kin. They leave traps to protect their meals; pomegrenades, lemon bombs. It’s citrus madness for any rhino who dares to seek a meal. We’ve assembled those of us with the largest horns into an attack force. I, Master Desert Rhino, have been placed at the head of this team. Though, our nanometric scale ensures our defeat. I fear for our families.

Runners up include this one from JD:

Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Kingdomia, there lived a very small rhino named Fred. Now Fred had a problem, which was this: he lived in the middle of a minefield. He sent out a global call for explosives experts to come and disarm the mines, but to no avail – they were all blown to tiny pieces. Fortunately, along came Baron Von Lemonbomb, from the neighbouring barony of Barony, and his magical lemon bombs. With one lemony KABOOM, the landmines were safely detonated and free lemonade rained down throughout the land. And they all lived happily ever after.

And this one from Jairus:

Long Island, New York, 1932. The door to my office burst open as the dame strolled in, filling the room with the explosive smell of lemons. Cocking my my eyebrow, I noticed an abnormally large rock on her finger, gleaming in the slits of light. She spoke, her smooth, velvet voice entering my ear. She said she was the President of the Nevada Bus drivers association, I laughed a little inside at a memory. Mumbling something about a duck, she suddenly screamed and charged at me with a knife like an abnormally small rino, sticking me in the gullet. Why Roscoe, why….

Thanks to everyone who entered (and there were hundreds of you, so many words…)

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