FIRST CREATIVE WRITING ASSIGNMNT OF 2026 WINTER SEMESTER WINDSOR UNIVERSITY
STEPHEN WEIR says “I am using a strict lipogrammatic constraint taking out the letter “E,” deliberately removing the most frequently used vowel in English.
A STORY ABOUT STEVE WEIR HOLDING HIS BREATH WHEN HE IS IN AN ELEVATOR AND RESCUING CATS FROM SUNKEN LADASBalcony drinks. Upstairs unit guy falls during our cocktail hour ( or went down with aid?)
“Air-holding kings can last 5–10 min” are scrawls in my blog’s talk-back box. “As it was, is, and shall stay, world without limit. Amnhb.”
Bad call moving into our cloud-scraping Toronto condo. I sought always to daily spy on the giant CN Stick in sight from our balcony! cocktails in hand. Day winds down as CN lights lit up skyward, and Whoosha Russian spy drops past us on his rapid way to ground — 40 floors straight down. A Russian Air Crash. a man had said in our lift gossip rings he was a Russian spy who slid past our railing last night. He mouths “Góspodi, pomogí!” A thud on frost lawn rang out. Lord did not lift a wing to aid him! Holy Gab and his wings couldn’t fly on that Windy Night
Flying Russian, Lying it Down Facts
As told by building staff, a man drop from floor 40 while fixing colour lights to his rail during a gusty night. His two cats? Missing.
Gusty? I was timing air-holding limits from, our lung busting high floor to Ground on the lift a day later, Our lift has a strong aroma Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb? Or YSL Libra? No. Not our two gals from Floor 39. This rank aroma had origins in two Volga boat lads who marched into the lift, chins jutting out, looks like the pair joined at hips.
Bumps and guns within two flimsy suit coats shift wildly in and out.
Haul! for lift singing from, stinky sailors.
“Yo, haul high! Pull, pull! Oh how Volga rolls!” Oh and how that girl groans: “I toil and strain, still onward go!”
I savour a solid spy yarn coming.
Parking floor doors slid right. No lung motion from moi. I stood puffy, shrubish, by the lift mouth.
Sailors got into a Lada, coughing thick black gas clouds, and chug chug off toward Lac Ontario. I trail. I spot sailor #1 and #2 wailing, pointing at rising air rings in Lac Ontario’sdark water. “Lada on bottom! Pussys stuck! You bring both to air!” Blu is the colour of my mug, lungs full and tight. I jump. Down. Down. Cold black H20. I find Lada. Black cats try scratching out the glass. Trump would grin. I grab pussys, haul em up.
Our KGB sailors cry and drop limp with joy. Our world is watching. TV host says I was down six mins — A solo world mark! Guiniss mails us a tacky diploma for my top air-hold stunt in world history! Ugh — If I do it again? just mail me a Guiniss.
By St3phen W3ir
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