|Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.||
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Light in the Window
Steve sat in his car and looked at the house at the other side of the street. Jim was next to him in the passenger's seat. Through the fog he saw a woman come out of the door and run to a car. A man followed her a few seconds later. He saw the red tail lights come on, and he started his engine. Just as he was about to drive away, Jim said, "Wait a minute. This is the pole vaulter we're supposed to be following, isn't it?"
"Are you sure it's him?"
"Well who else could it be?"
"What about the man on top of the lamp post."
Steve looked up at the man holding on to the top of the lamp post near the car. "Why do you think it might be him?"
"I don't know."
"It doesn't matter anyway. They've gone now."
"Well let's follow him then."
They looked up at the man on top of the lamp post and he looked down at them.
The Tree and the Horse
A Walk in the Rain
The East Cork Patents Office
Words are my favourite noises
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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.
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?"
She was sick of people asking her that too.
More blogs about Storytelling.