Correction: apparently the contest closes tomorrow. Here’s my 150 words entry to the third in-thread writing competition:
Mixing eye of nute and wart of toad, she felt the sudden urge to dig her nails into the sticky mass, as if it was his back. Leaving her for that whore, how dare he! Luckily her mother taught her just what to do with men like that, like her mother before her. A sort of... family business, you could say.
A little girl cried out: “Tommy, Tommy, where’d you go?” Annoying little brat. She set to grind some cat bones into the goo. Tommy had looked more like a Garfield any way.
How could he leave her? He knew no one could do it like her. That is to say, her way, made for one hell of a pâté!
She spread the paste out over a cracker for the sad looking caged raven.
“Don’t look at me like that, honey, you had it coming. Eat up, it’s your favourite.”