The magic kettle

The magic kettle - image for article by Greg Alder

Cameron Meadows looked at the magic kettle in his hands and felt worried.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his industrial surroundings. He had always loved beautiful Oxford with its putrid, panicky parks. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel worried.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather, someone. It was the figure of Alice Connor. Alice was a creepy author with scrawny lips and ample thighs.

Cameron gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a cold-blooded, mean, cocoa drinker with handsome ears and chubby hands. His friends saw him as a round, rabblesnatching rover. Once, he had even brought a silent baby bird back from the brink of death.

But not even a cold-blooded person who had once brought a silent baby bird back from the brink of death, was prepared for what Alice had in store today.

The snow flurried like partying elephants, making Cameron distinctly discombobulated.

As Cameron stepped outside and Alice came closer, he could see the unusual glint in her eye.

“I am here because I want a phone number,” Alice bellowed, in a greedy tone. She slammed her fist against Cameron’s chest, with the force of 309 aardvarks. “I frigging love you, Cameron Meadows.”

Cameron looked back, even more discombobulated and still fingering the magic kettle. “Alice, I shrunk the kids,” he replied.

They looked at each other with irritable feelings, like two spotless snakes slinking at a very cowardly Halloween party, which had piano music playing in the background and two uncles skipping to the Bossa nova beat.

Cameron regarded Alice’s scrawny lips and ample thighs. He held out his hand. “Let’s not fight,” he whispered, gently.

“Hmph,” pondered Alice.

“Please?” begged Cameron with puppy dog eyes.

Alice looked tentative, her body blushing like a bloody, boiled book.

Then Alice came inside for a nice mug of cocoa.

THE END

Now, what did you think when you read this story? Have I lost my marbles? Where did these absurd phrases come from? The force of 309 aardvarks? A cold-blooded, mean, cocoa drinker with handsome ears and chubby hands?

This story was created using a random plot generator. Why am I posting it here? Because creativity is random. Because life is random.

Randomness is the foundation of creativity – and therefore innovation. Every fresh idea is a mashup of two existing, unrelated ideas. A practiced creative mind makes these random connections habitually. The rest of us need help. And that’s where random plot generators come in.

They juxtapose absurd visions. They insert inappropriate animals, weird adjectives and bizarre emotions.

They do exactly what all the best creative thinking tools do – they accelerate the creative process and lead us into spaces we mightn’t get to on our own.

If you want to have a go at creating your own random plot for a novel or short story, search ‘random plot generators’. If you want to have a go at creating unexpected original ideas for your business, search ‘creative thinking tools’ or hire a business creativity coach. The results either way will be surprising, fun and fertile – and they are things that we need more of in life and in business.

Photo by Elijah O’Donell via Unsplash

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