Phrase Writers Group

At every Phrase Writers meeting we are given (optional) homework, a subject or phrase to inspire a story or poem.

This week's subject -- The quiz team

Friends donated their (first) names

THE QUIZ TEAM

“And the winner is...”

The morning after the delirious night before and the “Quiz Teens” were still toasting their success, albeit with actual toast, marmalade and tea.

“We did it” celebrated Polly, for the umpteenth time. “Through to the final”.

Cathryn brewed a fresh pot, as she felt the occasion deserved it.

Nicola looked at her best friends, well two of them. Brian would be along later.

“The youngest team in the contest, and we won through against all those wizened wisdom wizards. This will put our market on the map”.

“Everyone in the county knows about it” agreed Polly. “All those Saturday mornings, selling produce from our farms and kitchens. Some great homemade crafts too. Then off to the local pub for a light-hearted quiz with other stall holders”.

“Lovely way to make friends” said Cathryn. “The local brewery keeps a keg in reserve from their popular stall, and we all enjoy a glass or three.

“And then last year Brian suggested a competition between markets around the county. We didn’t win, but had a lot of fun. And met many market makers, swapping ideas”.

“The brewery needed more than a keg” said Nicola. “A few barrels, all told. Helped lubricate the little grey cells, some very inventive answers!”

“The journey is the reward” said Polly. “Where’s Brian? He said he’d be here half an hour ago”.

Ding dong.

“Avon calling” chorused the girls, as the door bell sounded, and Brian Avon stood outside.

Cathryn put down her cup and let Brian in.

“You’re just in time for a fresh brew. Nicola might have left you some toast”.

“What did the committee say?” asked Nicola. “Bet they were impressed”.

“Let the poor man sit down” said Polly. “He looks worn out”.

Brian collapsed into his favourite armchair, and quaffed from the cup Cathryn carried over. “Well I went to our town’s quiz committee to find out the arrangements for the final next month. They were ecstatic with your win. Talked about going to the next level”.

“What does that mean?” said Cathryn. “We practise answering quiz questions every week, read the papers. But it’s meant for fun. We’re not professional quizzers”.

“It seems that all the other teams in the final are hiring professional quiz contestants, to help them win. Last year’s prize of a trip to markets in Germany, France and Spain, with the resultant extra business, has sharpened their competitive juices.

“And so the committee plan to do the same with us”.

“How many?” said Nicola. ‘There’s four of us, we work well together. Maybe one or two more. Might help, but ...” Nicola trailed off. Didn’t seem right.

Brian swallowed. “The committee are bringing in six. Replacing all of us”.

“What?”

“They can’t do that”.

“It’s not fair”.

The three girls spoke at once, outraged. Brian let them vent, then run out of steam.

“No it’s not right” he said. “You did all the hard work after all. But the decision has been made. Contracts have been signed, transport organised, press releases sent out. Look, I’m upset too. But I have an idea. Get on with your quiz practice today, and I’ll be round tonight. Hopefully with good news. But between us, Mum’s the word”.

After Brian left with his crafty classified cunning plan, Cathryn and Nicola were still muttering dark deeds.

Polly clapped her hands. “Focus ladies. We’ve got today’s radio quiz to solve. What will be, ’n’ all that. Brian’s good at puzzling problems. Let’s do our bit”.

They cleared away the breakfast things, washed up, and Cathryn made another brew.

Polly got their lucky notepads and pens, while Nicola switched on the radio.

“And in 10 minutes or so, this week’s light-hearted quiz” announced the show’s presenter. “Get out your pads and ...”

“We’ve done it” interrupted Polly, Nicola and Cathryn.

The radio show was filled with eclectic music; no-one quite knew what was coming next, including the presenter. Rock, classical, folk, blues, jazz, new music from around the world, plus clean comedy. No swearing or innuendo. And a new quiz every week.

Cathryn poured three mugs of steaming tea, and they got comfortable with their paper and biros at the ready.

“This week’s quiz is FEAR NOT” said the radio guy.

Three sets of raised eyebrows looked at each other.

“A Phobia is a fear of something. For example, claustrophobia is the fear of confined spaces.

“Identify the eight following phobias. Note that one is made up!”

“Swinophobia”.

“Fear of pigs” said Nicola.

“Wiccaphobia”.

“Candles?” suggested Cathryn. “They have wicks”.

“Insectophobia”.

“Insects” said Nicola, who was on a roll.

“Equinophobia”.

“Horses” said Polly, wanting to get one right.

“BovineBelloPhobia”.

“Make a note, and we’ll come back to that” suggested Nicola.

“Dentophobia”.

“Fear of Dentists” guessed Cathryn, gingerly stroking her cheek following a lengthy visit earlier that week.

“Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia”.

Silence.

“Fear of hippos?” mused Polly. “It’s a very long word though”.

Nicola had a typical light bulb moment. “Fear of long words” she said.

“Phobophobia“.

“Fear of phobias” said Cathryn. “I read about that recently”.

“And your first bonus, to double your points. Which phobia did I make up?”.

“Easy” declared Nicola, “That Bovine whatsit”.

“Plus a second bonus, to further double your points. Which make believe phobia is the fear of Pantomime giants?”

“Make another note” said Nicola.

An instrumental was played, allowing the girls to reflect and confirm their answers. Normally they enjoyed listening to the varied music and comedy.

They compiled a consolidated list of answers.

“Don’t think Wiccaphobia is about candles. Our library’s reading group has been discussing Harry Potter. Maybe Witchcraft?” said Polly.

“Sounds good” said Nicola. “So we have “Pigs, witchcraft, insects, horses. BovineBellophobia. Well the presenter has a thing about Cowbells, so we can guess that one. Dentists, long words, fear of phobias. He made up the fear of Cowbells. And fear of pantomime giants?”

Polly loved pantomimes and dragged her unwilling friends along every year. She had a rare light bulb moment.

“Fee fi phobia!”

Groans echoed round the room. The music finished and the answers were read out. Another clean sweep, and smiles all round. Cathryn celebrating with a fresh brew, while Nicola and Polly went home to their various duties. They promised to meet back that evening, and keep schtum about you know what.

* * * * *

Various telephone exchanges followed and Polly and Nicola arrived at Cathryn’s for an early supper, to hear Brian’s ideas.

Brian settled with a large piece of Cathryn’s award winning quiche.

“I’ve been talking to the quiz organisers. They are frustrated, to say the least, that every team in the final is full of people who enter quizzes for their living. Not one stall holder from the markets.

"You know the Greenwood farm? They supply the sausages at our market. Well they’re looking at expanding their farm shop with fruit and vegetables, cheese and artisan beer. I know Jennifer the farmer. So the organisers are offering us a wild card entry, representing the Greenwood farm shop”.

Whoops and cheers greeted the news.

Brian smiled. “The final has been brought forward to next week. Remember, what’s the most important thing?”

All four chorused “Enjoy ourselves!”

* * * * *

The night of the final arrived. Competing for the coveted visits to overseas markets. Germany, Spain, France and including Italy it was rumoured.

The professional teams were stuffed with esoteric quiz answers and sticking to tonic water and lemon slices. Greenwood’s Farm Shop squad squeezed in Cathryn’s quiche, Polly’s pies, Nicola’s nuggets and Brian’s beer, the latter brewed by Jennifer.

The quiz started, and our heroes held their own. The questions were challenging but not obscure. They were mid table in the points tally. The frowns on their competitors’ kissers and less than surreptitious use of mobile phones were matched by laughs, finding a backup quiche, apple pie with a built-in layer of vanilla custard, and yet another mini keg in Brian’s backpack.

The last round came all too quick. Four teams were in the winning vicinity, with our heroes on the outskirts.

The quiz maestro declared “As this is a competition for stallholders in our county, this round will be about markets”.

Collective groans from almost every team, except the Farm Shop’s, who had nagging doubts about the wisdom of all that beer, and maybe three pies too many.

They knew the answers, but the burps were starting to rattle the windows.

The answer sheets were handed in, points were added up.

“And the winner is...”

The winning team had another trophy to add to their burgeoning collection. Second and third placed had smaller cups, but welcome all the same.

The quiz organiser thanked everyone present, including the committee for all their work, and volunteers without whom etc. Then a final prize was announced.

“Most sporting team goes to ... Greenwood’s Farm Shop. You’ll need your passports”.