Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.

'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, April 04, 2006


Off to the Races with Salman Rushdie

   My friend Jimmy got a tip on a horse who couldn't lose because he had a toy soldier stuck in one of his hooves during all of his previous races. He even won some of them, and he was much quicker without the toy soldier. So we needed to get to the race track, and Salman Rushdie said he'd help get us there. He said he was Salman Rushdie too.
   We ended up in a dimly lit building with red walls, and red upholstery on all of the furniture. A woman was talking to us in a Transylvanian accent. It sounded much more like a Meath accent, but she had fake fangs in her mouth and she moved her hands about like Dracula to make the accent sound more Transylvanian. She had to move her hands about a lot to compensate for the Meath accent.
   She told us about the time she was stuck on Hill 16 with the Dublin fans the time Meath beat Dublin in the football. Salman Rushdie asked her what part of Transylvania she comes from. I don't think he's really Salman Rushdie.
   He said to her, "Well now, the races. We need to get to the race track, in all probability, with great expediency... What's that other word?"
   "Blood?" she said.
   "Yeah. We need to get to the race track to back a horse in the three-twenty."
   "I know someone from Navan who could help ye out."
   We all know someone from Navan, but how many of them can help you out when you're nowhere near Navan?
   She took us to an old house with a dog in a pram. He was alseep. The pram just had three wheels. We could see that the dog had four paws because they were all sticking up in the air as he slept.
   Her friend from Navan was there too, but he looked lost.
   "Ah, thanks," Salman Rushdie said to her.
   "You owe me fifty quid for that."
   Salman Rushdie emptied out his pockets to show they were empty, so we had to pay for that.
   "You're not really Salman Rushdie, are you," I said.

The Tree and the Horse
Henry Seaward-Shannon
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.

Very Slight Stories: like short stories, only shorter

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