Something fun for 100: a randomly generated content challenge

It’s the doll thermometer’s 100th post! Hooray!

To celebrate, a 30 minute writing challenge:

Seven Randomly Generated Nouns: Chief, Jacket, Reason, Sidewalk, Son, Temperature, Textbook

Five Randomly Generated Adjectives: Zany, Modern, Nice, Measly, Tangible

Three Randomly Generated Verbs: Upgrade, Expand, Renew

One Randomly Generated Adverb: Miserably

No New Theories

‘One reason,’ the chief spoke sternly from atop his dais. His son knelt just below. Before him lay an open textbook, pages rippling in a nice breeze that blew through the chamber, built open to the elements. The temperature was mild and the skies clear; outside, a perfect day passed. Inside, the day was anything but. ‘Give me one measly reason not to cast you out and leave you to the mercy of the Sidewalk.’

The chief’s son coughed miserably into the crook of his elbow, splattering his jacket with blood and phlegm. The last few days in his father’s custody had not been pleasant. ‘I cannot give any more reason than I have. Our knowledge and understanding of the universe ever expands with time. We are learning things now that could not have been known when the Great Minds lived. I swear to you, I have tangible proof that the earth …’

‘You spit on the greatest minds that ever existed!’ the Chief roared, startling his son into distraught silence. ‘You spit on Aristotle and Ptolemy, and everything they studied!’

‘Not at all, entirely the opposite! Please, Father, if you would only listen to me …’

‘You would have us upgrade the perfect Geocentric model of the universe? Improve upon what cannot be improved?’

‘But it is incorrect!’ his son near wailed, stretched to breaking point by days of mistreatment and public ridicule. ‘The sun does not revolve around us, nor the planets nor the stars! Only the moon is ours!’

Gasps and cries of blasphemy ensued, echoing around the chamber from the rising ring of spectator seats. The Chief was livid, but through his rage his son saw deep, deep shame, and despaired.

‘Defile our ears and the great work of Aristotle no more with your modern, zany theories,’ the Chief commanded, gesturing reverently at the open textbook pages fluttering, innocent and incorrect, by his son’s bowed head.

‘I have had enough. Renew your faith in the sacred truths of the Great Minds, or face the Sidewalk.’

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