The Writer's Den

UCLA's creative writing student group

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Five Guys

During the last meeting of Winter Quarter, we wrote to a list of random songs. Kyle & Dmitry happened to pick “Little Talks” — how they got to the following story in 10 min, we have no idea:

These guys are the founders of Five Guys restaurants which can be found all across the United States. They are from Iceland, but they can cook up a mean hamburger. They fly around in the zeppelin, spreading burger joy to the little boys and girls of the world.


Iceland is a third world country. It has been destroyed by the unending tide of American capitalism. Only these Five Guys have the gusto and gumption to strike a blow against the dragon of American oppression. Which is a literal dragon, because dragons are very real, and they have enslaved the people of Iceland with their fiery breath. Because as everyone knows, fire is super effective against ice. But the Five Guys had a secret weapon: The Floating Woman of Rainbow Beams. And the Rainbow Beams could defeat the dragon in one technicolor blast, spreading the myriad hues of the world to the monochrome black and whiteness of Iceland.


The Five Guys approached the dragon. The dragon was mean and scary and smoky. But the Floating Woman of Rainbow Beams fired the Rainbow Beams at the mean and scary and smoky dragon, and defeated the mean and scary and smoky dragon. So the Five Guys were victorious, and they saved Iceland from the oppression of McDonald’s and Burger Hut, the foul merger of Burger King and Pizza Hut. And thus on that day, it was proclaimed the Day of the Five Guys, or El Dio de los Guysos Cincos.

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“What Can You Pen?” Second Place Prose Prize

God’s Telephone Lines
By Emma Wisdom

Illustration by JoAnna Schindler.

We drove out to Montauk late in March, a pile of wool blankets in the backseat, Lola, the greyhound, in my lap. Steven held the wheel and my hand, one grip loose, one tight, and I was thankful he could do both, my own hands were shaking. Dawn had hit earlier as we fueled up at a Shell Station just before reaching the Island, and now, almost noon, I saw the Clam Bar, the dusty surf shack just on the outskirts of “The End.” Continue reading

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“What Can You Pen?” First Place Prose Prize

First-place winners will be published in Westwind’s quarterly journal.

By Peter Holby

The bell sounds and everybody except for Jimmy drops what they’re doing and heads towards the break room. Jimmy grabs his broom and starts moving between the work stations, making little grunts as he strains to get at the sawdust that’s drifted back behind the bright red flammable storage cabinet. Continue reading