Props

[Veluux]

This is a VERY simple game. All you have to do is come up with a scenario or quick series of linked events (real or unreal, silly or serious) using the three props the person above you has listed.

A handgun.
A miniskirt.
An Orange.

[Veluux]

(Okay, i'll get the ball rolling here.)

When my handgun ran out of ammo I defended myself from zombies using only a sling made out of a miniskirt with oranges as ammunition.

Bowling ball
Rubix cube
Ford Mustang

[Beguile's Mistress]

I like this!

Minerva wore a red leather mini-skirt that matched the holster strapped to the inside of her thigh.  The handgun felt cold and heavy in her grasp.  The slightly oily skin of the orange left a faint odor on her fingers after she dropped it into Derrick's lap.  The man was startled and when he grabbed for the piece of fruit Minerva pressed the end of the barrel up behind one ear.

"Give back what you took from me, Derrick, or I swear you'll not live to see the dawn."

An umbrella
A set of steel-tipped darts
A flyswatter

Aw...  No fair!  I'll come back and give it another try sometime.

[sexhaver]

The cheerleader's body was found in the trunk of an abandoned bright yellow Ford Mustang. Her head had been replaced by a bowling ball using industrial strength adhesive, with the finger holes positioned in the front to look like eyes and a mouth, tilted oddly like the Man in the Moon. The coroner found a Rubix cube sewn inside her belly, fully completed except for the center tile of each side which was the colour of the side opposite it. This was the sixth such victim found, the pattern left on the Rubix cube in each one having a different number of reversed tiles in the arrangement of numbers on a gaming die. The killer had been counting down to something, and with this final discovery, no more numbers were left.

***

The moustachioed man in the floral-patterned tuxedo and tophat waved his arm in a grandiose manner, drawing attention to the items laid on the counter before him. On the left there were a crossed pair of umbrellas, one with red and white stripes, the other with blue and white stripes. Next to them, parallel flyswatters, one red, one blue, with reverse facing like pistols. On the far right, red and blue fish, one of each, exactly equal in length from tail to nose. "Choose-eh your weePON, mademoiselle!", he challenged boldly in his outrageous accent, as he doffed his hat with the other hand. Beneath his bushy eyebrows his slitted eyes stared menacingly, flitting side to side as he scanned each of Jenna's eyes repeatedly. The girl let her gaze drift over the assortment of absurd dueling items. She let out a pensive breath, a soft hmm, and then with a flick of the wrist released a steel-tipped dart from the sleeve of her leather jacket, striking the ringmaster between the eyes and killing him before he even knew what happened. She stepped forward and crouched slowly over the body with a neutral expression, observing the stillness of his face. With a slight twitch of her brow, Jenna deftly plucked the dart from the man's forehead and slipped it into the loop inside her jacket to rejoin the rest of her set, from which she drew a new, freshly poisoned dart to hide up her sleeve. With the midway secured, only the roller coaster and the log ride stood in her way. Only those two obstacles, and.... Him.

[sexhaver]

Oh right, I need to add one for the rest of you.

A bottlecap
A modern art piece
A red bra

[Satin]

Damn it! I should have had a drink before entering the art gallery. Now my thirsty is scorching the walls of my throat and there are signs everywhere saying, 'This Gallery strictly forbids the consumption of food and beverages!!' With two exclamation marks which seem to be pointing straight at me.
I can't tolerate my parched mouth any longer and I steal myself away from the throng of people viewing the artworks. In a quiet backwater of the gallery I stand in front of a modern art piece, reach into my bag and take out a fizzy drink bottle. With an enthusiastic flourish I unscrew the bottlecap and "Kaswooosh!!!" The shaken up liquid is ejaculated out in a fountain of flooding stickiness all over the modern art work. I look at the mess all over the piece!! I wonder how much it's worth and how many years will it take me to pay off the damage I have caused. Perhaps...perhaps I could just wipe it all off and abscond before my disaster is discovered by gallery staff. I check my handbag....no tissues!! I always have tissues!!! The pockets of my jeans are empty! I look around for something I could wipe the congealing lemonade off the art piece!!! Nothing!!
I know! I work my fingers under my shirt and try to surreptitiously unhook the red bra I am wearing. I undo my shirt, almost taking it off and hope no one comes strolling around the corner. I whip of my bra and regain the composure of slipping my shirt back on. Using my red bra I wipe up all the mess I have made with the fizzy drink. Stuffing the moist bra back into my handbag, I startled by one of the gallery staff who just then walks around the corner. He stops for a cordial chat and I hope my guilt are not written all over my face. As he is about to leave he says, "Do you like this work? It's called 'Hidden Shame bemoans the Guilty!'"