Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.

'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
Click here to buy the paperback or download the ebook for free.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005


Walking down the street

   Dave walks down the street and thinks about his friend Jane, who was telling him about how her son got a goldfish and called it Skippy. He tried to teach the goldfish to roll over, but the goldfish wouldn't do anything at all, and Jane's son said to it, "I heard Skippy the bush kangaroo say that he wanted to come around here to punch you." Every time someone calls around, he says to the goldfish, "Oh no! Skippy's here to punch you." It's very embarrassing for Jane, but Dave thinks that all she needs to do is tell her son that Skippy the bush kangaroo is angry with him for suggesting that he'd punch a goldfish.
   Later that afternoon, Dave is hiding in a wardrobe with Denise and he's afraid of being caught in there, but she doesn't even know why they're hiding. She thinks it's very exciting. He tries to stay calm, and then he remembers the goldfish and he tells her about it. "...She just needs to tell him that the real Skippy, the kangaroo, is very angry with him. Then he'll stay quiet. And she's embarrassed by his attempts to play the violin too because all the neighbours hear. But all she needs to do there is close the bloody window."
   Dave wishes he could be somewhere else when he's in a room full of people and they're all looking at him. He sees a vase of flowers on the sideboard. He takes the flowers out of the vase, hands them to Louise and says, "I got these for you." She's delighted. He breathes a sigh of relief. Then he remembers Denise in the wardrobe. She's still there, trying to remain as still and as quiet as possible, with a big smile on her face in the darkness. He also remembers the goldfish. "...All she has to do is to say that the real Skippy is upset with him. And close the bloody window when he plays the violin. It's as simple as that."

The Tree and the Horse
Henry Seaward-Shannon
A Walk in the Rain
The East Cork Patents Office
Words are my favourite noises




May 2005   June 2005   July 2005   August 2005   September 2005   October 2005   November 2005   December 2005   January 2006   February 2006   March 2006   April 2006   May 2006   June 2006   July 2006   August 2006   September 2006   October 2006   November 2006   December 2006   January 2007   February 2007   March 2007   April 2007   May 2007   June 2007   July 2007   August 2007   September 2007   October 2007   November 2007   December 2007   January 2008   February 2008   March 2008   April 2008   May 2008   June 2008   July 2008   August 2008   September 2008   October 2008   November 2008   December 2008   January 2009   February 2009   March 2009   April 2009   May 2009   June 2009   July 2009   August 2009   September 2009   October 2009   November 2009   December 2009   January 2010   February 2010   March 2010   April 2010   May 2010   June 2010   July 2010   August 2010   September 2010   October 2010   May 2013  

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.

Very Slight Stories: like short stories, only shorter

More blogs about Storytelling.
Technorati Blog Finder

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?