Clever No Soliciting Sign Funny Novels & Stories

was the catchphrase from the advertisements—and the old line had never been more inviting. The fantasy dissipated as his gaze passed over the emergency escape window near the kid from the stop. Next to the window was a small box where a BREAK IN CASE OF EMERGENCY hammer should have be tied. Yet was not. Tears in the seating, scuffs on the handlebars. Alert wires sagged in long, thin smiles. Graffiti scratched into the glass on Steve’s right. Peeling warning stickers covered the walls, a faded cardboard advertisement for Wrigley’s Extra Sugar-Free Gum.

was on Dylan's. And "Eat to avenge Larissa!" was written on Rio's. On top of that, they printed their slogans on their shirts. The front of their shirts read, "Foodies United!", with "Go, go, go!" on the back. Caspian even tailor-made a six-foot spoon, and the words "Just One Scoop" were imprinted on it. They invited people to tag along, including their friends and employees from the Sawyer Group who weren't working today.

Rachel asked through her teeth, and I knew she was furious. Before I could say anything, one of Sarah’s friends began sticking signs on the ice cream truck that read in big bold letters: Free Ice Cream. Is she serious?!

Betsy announces in a loud, clear voice. Mrs. Clark stops what she's doing and motions for me. Betsy vanishes into the commotion, so I go along with the lady to see what she needs. Mrs. Clark hands me a banner to stretch along the front of the tent; it says 'Homemade Fruit Jams,' and there are ties to secure it in place. I take the banner and stand before the booth, looking up at the edge of the tent. I reach for the top corner, just missing it.

Sophia says. "In any case, he hates them, right? On a completely unrelated note, where can I find a lovely clown poster?" I ask innocently. Sophia raised an eyebrow. "You're up to something, aren't you?" I wink. "Just a little surprise for our dear Vincent. Now, where can I get that clown poster?" Sophia points in the direction of a novelty store. "There's a shop over there that sells all sorts of quirky stuff. You might find what you're looking for."

“I wanted to ask you something.” I furrowed my brow and set down the cloth I was using to wipe up the counter. “What is it?” Suddenly, Justin turned the sign around with an even wider grin. On the sign were big letters, written carefully and neatly, that read: “Nina, will you go to the dance with me?” I couldn’t help but blush a bit. It was honestly cute seeing how much effort Justin had put into the sign, and the sweet look on his face made me smile.

“Too staged. But it doesn’t. It feels real.” “Because it is.” Julian nodded behind her, then gestured toward the entry. “We should show them now.” I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the envelope. Inside was the hand-drawn version of the new sign. Not printed. Not typed. A sketch done in ink on cream paper, traced and retraced until the lines felt like they belonged. Noelle Juliana. Not in gold. Not in shadowed font. Just letters that felt lived in, upright and certain.

Our flag—Camp No Name—fluttered in the warm breeze, the jagged skull logo that Sadie drew looking weirdly perfect. I spotted Brody and Sadie just outside their tent, and made my way toward them as people started gathering near a massive tarp-covered slip-and-slide. A seven-foot-long table stood at the end of it, lined with red Solo cups. A mountain of a man stood beside it, calling everyone over with a booming, syrupy southern drawl. Tall, tan, bearded, and built like a damn log cabin—he looked like he bench-pressed pine trees before breakfast. “Alright now,” he called, clapping his hands. “Real simple: you slide down, chug the beer, flip your cup, then slide back. First team to finish wins.

“It’s called an Ice Bar and the entire thing is made of ice! The tables, the cups, and the actual bar is ice!” “So you’re saying that I should have put on another scarf?” I tease. He glanced over at me, “you can have my jacket if you’re cold.” I stop him before he takes it off, “I’m fine. Just be prepared to warm me up later.” He kisses the top of my head, “we can turn back right now.” “Oh no,” I laugh. “Not when we’ve just made it.” The sign for the Ice Bar hangs from a long pole jutting out from building, a picture of an ice cube and a bottle of vodka was painted on it.

"Please. This is embarrassing." He sighs, shaking his head. "I don't think it'll matter," he points at a sign on a nearby wall. "Need Extra Cash? Consider becoming a Rental Luna! Great wages and benefits!" Underneath the sign, a smiling blonde she-wolf sits at the table covered in bright pink envelopes which she hands to interested applicants as she discusses the "joys and freedoms of being a Rental Luna."