|Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.||
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Hazel's Story About a Card Game
A red sky to end the day. A man looked down. A donkey and a dog stared in wonder into the sunset, their faces illuminated by the golden light... (A girl puts up her hand).
"How can a donkey and a dog show wonder on their faces?"
That's not really the point of the story. They were...
"I once saw a donkey wearing a hat with flowers in it, and he looked exactly the same as when he ate the hat."
Why was he wearing a hat with flowers in it?
"There was a monkey there, and I don't know why the monkey was there, but they asked him if he'd like some lemonade. He just looked back at them for a while, then he got out his cigarette lighter and he was about to set the trailer on fire. One of them said, 'No no, lemonade. Lemonade.' The monkey slowly nodded his head. While they were looking at the monkey, the donkey got Maeve's hat. He was wearing it. Maeve got Emma to distract the donkey while she tried to take the hat. Emma didn't really know how to distract a donkey. She started talking to him, and she said something about a dog shaved by Mozart, like in a contest for shaving dogs, and Mozart only entered because Beethoven entered it too. Then the shed caught fire. Everyone else was looking at that, but the donkey kept looking at Emma. She waved at him. And then he ate the hat."
My story would probably be an anti-climax after that.
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.