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 LADASLipogram (No “5th ” vocaid in all Anglish No Rhyming, No Floor 32. And most important Cats Can’t Swim,)
Balcony drinks. Upstairs unit guy falls during our cocktail hour ( Or drifts down fast without wings or a parashot)
“Air-holding kings can last 5–10 min” says scrawls in my blog’s talk-back box. “As it was, it is, and shall stay, world without limit. " “Bubblin’, bubblin’, O Lord.” I’m studying to hold my breath when I am at the bottom of the condolpool in sight of our Russian land pad.
Bad call moving into our cloud-scraping Toronto condo. I sought always to daily spy on the giant CN Stick in sightfrom our balcony! Cocktails in hand. Day winds down as CN Stick lights glows up skyward, and Whoosh a Russian spy drops past us on his rapid way to ground — 40 floors straight down. A Russian Air Crash. all said in our lift gossip rings he was a Russian spy who wildly 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 Down His Final Factoids.
As told by building staff, A man falls from floor 40.” while fixing colour lights to his rail during a gusty night. His two cats Putin and Stalin, have now listed as missing.
Gusty? I was timing my air-holding limits from, our lung busting high floor to Ground floor on our fast lift It was a day past Saturday"
Our lift has a strong aroma of Viktor & Rolf, Floral Bang,andYSL Libra? No. Not off our two gals from Floor 39. This rank aroma had origins in two Volga boat guys who march into our lift, chins jutting out. Hips jutting out, looking as if joined at hips.
Bumps and guns within two flimsy dusty suit coats shift wildly in and out, up and down.
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Haul! for lift singing flys out from ours stinky sailors.
“Yo, haul high! Pull, pull! Oh how Volga rolls!” Oh and how girls did groan: “I still hold onto my air and cheeks turn pink from strain, still onward go!”
I savour a solid spy yarn coming. But I won’t push out my air till I know how the story stopsl
Parking floor doors slid right. No lung motion from moi. I stood puffy, shrubish, by lift’s 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’s dark bay. “Lada on bottom! Pussys stuck! You bring both to air!” Black is the colour of my mug, lungs full and tight. I jump. Down. Down. Cold black H20. I find a Lada. Black cats try scratching out glass windows. I grab pussys, haul em up. Trump woulda idiot grin.
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Our KGB sailors cry and drop limp with joy. Our world is watching. TV host says I was down no air - six mins long.— 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 UPS a Guiniss.
By St3phen W3ir
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