Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.





'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, May 03, 2005

 

The Owl

   Sarah skipped down the path into the trees, took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked all around her at the happy woodland scene - the birds singing in the trees, the rabbits and squirrels talking to each other. She took notes and made sketches of everything she saw. She got a shock when she heard an owl, and she jumped. She was glad no one was around to see that, although the squirrels were looking at her in a funny sort of way. She crossed out the word 'happy' before the word 'owls' and wrote 'tedious, over-rated, self-important' instead.
   When she went home she said to her sister, "There must be something you can do with owls."
   And her sister said, "If they can send a man into space, surely they can send an owl... to Limerick."
   Sarah saw the owls in a different light after this. She'd been to other cities, but she'd never been to Limerick. The next time she saw the owls in the woods she crossed out the words 'tedious, over-rated, self-important'. When she got home she looked up the word 'cosmopolitan' in the dictionary and she wrote that instead.










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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.







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