To help you finish off your week right (or should that be write? ) it's time for a couple of prompts. Once again, we're featuring a couple of prompts that for one reason or another, didn't receive any prompt responses. I've included links to each topic as well so you can post your prompt responses (or links to them) in the forums. Have fun!!

Prompt 509 – Creative
Tag – The Tire
Your were called away for a business trip to the middle of nowhere. On the way home you blew a tire. When you go for your spare you remember you were going to get it fixed, but you forgot. You call the auto club and they send out a repair truck to help you. When it arrives you find yourself facing someone from your past. Who is it and what happens?

Prompt 511 - Creative
Tag - The Child
The neighborhood has gone strangely quiet since the new neighbors moved in down the street. Even the nosey lady across the street has stopped talking and seems to keep her blinds closed now. You have no idea why everyone is acting so odd ‘til you meet the neighbors child. What is so odd about this child?

We had two takers last time we did a second chance prompt post. Both are for Prompt #502

TLA1 (MW8) by JohnAR

“Where the hell is that road?” the cop shouted into the mobile phone.

“Half a mile on your right,” the voice on the phone on speaker informed him politely.

“We were there …,” Carla, sitting in the front next to the cop who drove their vehicle stated doubtingly. She looked up from her files that stated ‘IRS – confidential’ prominently, her face even paler than usually.

“Yep,” the fat guy in the back in a black jacket with the yellow letters ‘ATF’ confirmed; his nose moved as if he smelled a rat.

Only the forth passenger, in his stereotypical black suit, starched white shirt and impeccable red tie, didn’t comment on their frustration of not finding their way to ‘White Wolf Holdings Inc.’ easily. He removed a non-existent crumb from his trousers – most likely a relic of the ATF guy’s bag of candy – and continued to observe his surroundings.

Brotherhood by Carlos Hazday

The sun feels good beating on my shoulders while the wind keeps us cool as we cruise up US Highway 27 headed to Orlando. The radio’s off; the unmistakable sound of the Harley-Davidson exhaust my soundtrack.

Riding without a shirt or helmet might not be considered smart by some people but fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke. I’m an exhibitionist at heart plus I know I look good half-naked. And a brain bucket dulls my enjoyment of what the biker experience should be: freedom. As far as I’m concerned, when it comes to governmental intrusion, the old line about letting riders decide should be the law of the land.

I stayed in Wilton Manors two extra days as I’d promised the kid. His blood work proved negative for any STDs as I’d sworn it would be and he was elated with the results. So much so, he wanted a repeat performance of Friday night, offering to let me bareback him now he knew I was safe. I declined. Don’t want him to get any ideas.