Madlib for contest

Kipp the delivery guy had an important errand to run. He needed to buy thirteen unique candles for the WdC three tiered cake. He parked his wheelchair in front of Mr. Zippo’s grocery store. The small bell above the door rang as he walked into the quaint building. Old man Zippo looked up from his Japanese Periodical and said, “Hey, Kipp, what do you need today?” The words whistled through a huge gap in his front teeth.

“I need 13 candles for WdC and they have to be unique.”

“Unique crackers?”

“No, Mr. Zippo. Candles.” He raised his voice. “Each one has to be unique.”

He adjusted his hearing aid and laughed. “Oh! I’ll be right back.”

Mr. Zippo shuffled to the back of the store. While waiting, Kipp admired the unusual items around the store. He saw a pair of belly button rings, a rack of all the same colored codpieces, and 1002 ducks in a small swimming pool. As Kipp shook his head in wonderment, he heard the footsteps of Mr. Zippo and noticed his fluorescent orange running shoes.

He carried a small bag, and as he rang it through the cash register, Kipp asked, “Do you have any idea what WdC stands for?”

“Um, can’t say that I do.”

“It’s just such a different name for a place.” Kipp thanked him for helping out with the strange request, but he had to run because he was late. Before pulling away from the curb, he checked inside the bag only to see five Candy Ear Wax candies, five Horehound candies, and three Jaw Breakers.

Kipp ran back to the store and explained the mishap to Mr. Zippo.

“Oh my. . . it's candles you need. . . so sorry for the mix-up! I’ve got to get my hearing aid fixed.”

As Mr. Zippo shuffled off once again. Kipp forced a smile and rolled his eyes.

Five minutes later, he appeared from the back of the store with a box in a cello bag.

“These are the most unique candles I have. You can keep the candies and no charge for these.”

“Thank you, Mr. Zippo. I’ve got to run.”

He arrived at WdC headquarters and rang the doorbell. It was loud and sounded like a Bison. Two kids, a girl and a boy, opened the huge, Bird poop beige door.

“Hi, can you give these candles to your parents. It’s for the cake.”

They stared at him.

“I’m Kipp the delivery guy. What are your names?”

“I’m Jack. This is Phoebe.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m curious, do you know what WdC stands for? ”

Silence.

“I’ve got a bag of candy if you can tell me.”

Phoebe blinked twice. “Wiring dat cat.”

Jack stared at the side of her head.

Kipp shook the bag. “What about you, Jack? What do you think it means?”

He answered in a millisecond.

“Wreally don’t care. Can I have the candy?”

Kipp handed it to him. They smiled and ran off as Mr. and Mrs. WdC came to the door. They opened the box and admired all thirteen candles that were packed in a neat row.

Two candles were shaped as numbers. The one and three had forks encrusted deep within the wax. Three candles were carved as beautiful flowers. One was a Corpseflower, another was a Hollyhock, and the last was a Lady Slipper. Five looked like regular candles, but all had an array of different colors and had the pattern of herringbone. One was a book, and the last two were shaped as a toenail dipped in blood and burnt stick.

Before Kipp stepped away to leave, he asked, “What does WdC stand for?”

They both answered in unison. “Writing.Com. It’s the place where writers go.”

Kipp smiled as the mystery was solved. “Oh, a family member of mine named Bill Wilcox is an author. Maybe you'll hear of them one day. Happy 13th to WdC!”




THE END