| Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter. |
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Tuesday, May 31, 2005Jane trying to explain
Sarah and Molly were eating crisps, staring into space. The noise of the crisps was annoying Harry, and he eventually put his pen down and said, "Please be quiet. I'm trying to write a speech for a deer."
As soon as he said that, he knew it didn't sound right. Sarah said to Molly, "Jane was trying to explain to a duck why he shouldn't peck at the rabbit, and she thought he understood what she was saying. And what's the very first thing he does? He pecks at the rabbit." They stood on a path near the sea, with ice creams in their hands and about thirty people around them. Sarah said, "And then someone tried to explain to her why the duck wouldn't understand words like 'anti-social'. She kept nodding away, and what's the very first thing she does? She tries to explain to the rabbit that it's stupid to just sit there while the duck pecks him." A man stood up in front of the crowd, looked down at a card in his hand and said, "Thanks for coming out this evening. When I was running through the forest, listening to the sound of the air passing through my antlers, I saw a beautiful doe in a clearing and came to a halt..." "I knew that didn't sound right," Harry said to himself. |
The Tree and the Horse Henry Seaward-Shannon A Walk in the Rain The East Cork Patents Office Mizzenwood Words are my favourite noises Archive Links:
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| very slight stories |
They Met a Bear They stopped in a small seaside town and they went for a walk. They met a bear. This is one version of the story. In another version, they met a sailor, and in this one they ended up being held at gunpoint on a speedboat and becoming unwilling participants in a diamond robbery while disguised as a cow, and sharing in the proceeds of that crime. So when they tell the story they just say, "We met a bear. He waved at us." The Story of the Fortune Teller and the Alarm Clock A fortune teller threw an alarm clock at me. This story is deliberately lacking in details to mock the predictions of the fortune teller. Although she was right when she said she'd throw an alarm clock at me. Counting One. Two. Three, the study. Four, a candle stick. Five. Six... Seven is missing, presumed dead. One has taken up the case, and two is helping him in his investigations. They both suspect six. Seven was last seen next to six in the garden. But seven isn't really dead. He's consumed half a bottle of whiskey and he's currently in the orchard, talking to a rabbit. "One of us is as boring as a gate post," he says, "and it's not..." He stops to count on his fingers. "No, actually it is me." Eight nine ten. Debbie and his dog Debbie was sick of people mistaking her for a man. "Is your dog my parole officer?" "No." She was sick of people asking her that too. 
More blogs about Storytelling. 
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