[Please note that the formatting here differs from the finished product.]
Dear depraved wordsmith,
Let’s face it—you’re a bad person.
Despite your best efforts to remedy that fact—and I’m sure you really have tried everything—you just can’t seem to get rid of those niggling moral deficiencies. But despair not. I’m not here to tell you to change or be better. No, I’m here to tell you to embrace the fucked up individual that you are.
In this twisted tome, you’ll find writing prompts specifically designed to allow you to indulge in your most sinful fantasies. If you’ve ever wanted to spend an afternoon with a young Hitler, ponder the sexual proficiency of robots, pen R-rated sonnets in perfect iambic pentameter, or add everyone’s favourite Christian, Archbishop Kanye West, to “The Good Book,” here’s your chance.
So, break out that pen or that set of typing sticks you call fingers, and let’s get to it. Consider me your spiritual guide, the Virgil to your debauched Dante, as we traverse topics unfit for the kind-at-heart. Let’s laugh, love, and learn together, you little heathen, you!
Enjoy!
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How to Use This Book:
Solo
Open book. Read prompt. (Please tell me you can read.) Let creative juices flow. Write. Sound good? Feel free to use whichever style or form you like, unless otherwise specified.
Group
For a real challenge, grab some real friends (if you have any) and set a timer for fifteen minutes. Select a prompt at random and have everyone write on it separately (or together if you want a circlejerk exercise). When the time runs out, compare your responses and vote on which entry you think is the funniest. And don’t vote for yourself, dude. No one likes that shit.
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Rewrite a BDSM scene from Fifty Shades of Grey, but make it unbearably PG.[1]
[illustration]
[1] Go ask your lonely aunt for more info on this one if it doesn’t ring a bell. She’ll know all about it.
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As an agoraphobic, paranoid schizophrenic, bipolar, ADD, hyper-maniac OCD sufferer, it’s sometimes difficult to get out of bed. But when you do, my god, it’s fucking hilarious...
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The abortion didn’t work.
In fact, you now have a new problem to deal with...
...they somehow managed to add a fetus.
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Your train’s full of zombies. But, instead of sporting putrefying flesh, mangled teeth, and a marked disregard for privacy, these ones spend their time staring at their phones, humming popular songs, and vaping.
Write a zombie apocalypse story where you have to defend yourself against hoards of the Gen Z undead.
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Your character is a lot like a James Bond villain—minus the monocle, the money, and the exotic pussy.[3]
Their next dastardly plot: steal a fully-loaded corndog from their local 7-Eleven store.
[3] Cat. Exotic pussy cat.
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Your character is a translator but is unable to understand, or translate, anything. This has interesting implications at this year’s G20 Summit…
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