Kari Hunter Book 3 Word Game

Jen Kirchner· October 06, 2024· [general, kari-hunter]

It’s been a while since I’ve posted to the blog, so I wanted to poke my head out and share something fun. For the past few months, I’ve been focused on finishing the draft of Kari Hunter book 3, The Dark Door. So far, this is my most epic story yet, and I’m super proud of it. When we moved into the editing stage a couple of months ago, I wanted to celebrate with my newsletter subscribers, so I created a fun Mad Libs–style word game using the opening to the new book*.*

If you’ve followed my blog or social media for any length of time, you know I’m a fan of the Mad Libs word games. My brother and I used to play them together on camping trips, so that’s probably where the fondness stems from. It’s easy to play—you just come up with a handful of words of specific types. The more creative and random the words, the better. These words will fill in the blanks in a short story—or, in our case, the opening to Kari Hunter book 3. 

The submissions really made my month. They’re so much fun that I wanted to share a few of the results with everyone. Shoutout to Brian, Mindy, Ken, Bin, and Angie for their fun submissions! And, of course, you can find the actual opening to Kari Hunter book 3 at the bottom of the post. Enjoy!

Submission by Brian:

The police stagecoach assigned to the Principal Conservator was a moody  relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through a carousel  or put gas in the spark plug —they’d just driven it out of the police state park , covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State and called it gruesome . The interior smelled as if someone had tolerated in it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his eardrum out the window and scream “ Fiddlesticks !” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a security guard , which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State transmission shop  of Rochester, at the side of the lot where the lights were burned out. The Principal had dragged  himself inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to hack  inside.

Submission by Mindy:

The police velocipede assigned to the Principal Conservator was a warty  relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through a crypt  or put gas in the axle —they’d just driven it out of the police grotto , covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State and called it crystalline . The interior smelled as if someone had rubbed in it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his pineal gland out the window and scream “ Whoops !” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a dog catcher , which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State garage  of Rochester, at the side of the lot where the lights were burned out. The Principal had trimmed  himself inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to slink  inside.

Submission by Bin:

The police Segway assigned to the Principal Conservator was a moist  relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through Atlantis  or put gas in the wiper fluid —they’d just driven it out of the police house , covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State and called it bulbous . The interior smelled as if someone had balanced in it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his MCL out the window and scream “ Zoinks !” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a Geek Squad member , which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State Jiffy Lube  of Rochester, at the side of the lot where the lights were burned out. The Principal had locked  himself inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to shadow someone  inside.

Submission by Angie:

The police horse assigned to the Principal Conservator was a shiny  relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through my bedroom  or put gas in the windshield wiper —they’d just driven it out of the police Paris , covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State and called it mellifluous . The interior smelled as if someone had wasted in it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his toenail out the window and scream “ Son of a biscuit !” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a marketing director , which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State gas station  of Rochester, at the side of the lot where the lights were burned out. The Principal had missed  himself inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to give a side-eye glance  inside.

Submission by Ken:

The police hovercraft assigned to the Principal Conservator was an opulent  relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through a library  or put gas in the speakers —they’d just driven it out of the police city , covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State and called it obsequious . The interior smelled as if someone had denied it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his elbow out the window and scream “ What the sh*t !” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a assistant to the regional manager , which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State taco truck  of Rochester, at the side of the lot where the lights were burned out. The Principal had skipped  himself inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to hand gesture inside.

And now, the original, actual opening of Kari Hunter book 3, The Dark Door. Release date TBD:

The police cruiser assigned to the Principal Conservator was an American-made relic from the eighties. Before it was delivered, no one had bothered to drive it through a car wash or put gas in the tank—they’d just driven it out of the police auction lot, covered the bullet holes with the purple and gold seal of the Immortal State, and called it good. The interior smelled as if someone had died in it. The horn and flashing lights didn’t work, so if the Principal needed to rush to an emergency, he’d have to stick his head out the window and scream “AWOOGA! AWOOGA!” into traffic.

I was sitting in the backseat like a criminal, which was fitting, because that’s sort of what I am. 

The car was parked in front of the Immortal State Museum of Rochester, at the side of the lot, where the lights were burned out. The Principal had disappeared inside a half hour ago, leaving me to hide in the cold. I was waiting for the signal to sneak inside.

I hope you enjoyed our word game—and the opening to the next Kari Hunter book. To receive email alerts about new books, you can subscribe to my newsletter here: Jen’s new release alerts and free stuff!