Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.

'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, April 11, 2006


This Gregarious Weasel

   Jimmy and his friend Chadwick called in to see Anna one morning. She was looking after her sister's pet weasel for the day, and she was playing with the weasel in the garden when Jimmy and Chadwick arrived. She asked them to look after it while she went inside to answer the phone.
   There was a tennis racket and a ball on the lawn. Chadwick picked them up, and he was going to hit the ball away for the weasel to fetch it, but the weasel went for the racket instead of the ball, and it hit him on the head during the follow through. The weasel lay on his back, with his paws in the air.
   "You've killed him," Jimmy said.
   When Anna came back out, Chadwick picked up the weasel and said, "As you can see, the weasel is currently engaged in non-utterance, for reasons accrued over a long period of time, through a variety of sources, chief amongst them being, doing and saying 'I'm chief amongst them'."
   They went to a birthday party at a neighbour's house. They took a photo of the weasel wearing a party hat, with Chadwich holding him up all the time. He spoke in the voice of the weasel when he told them about the best places for fishing. "I've been fishing allll around the country (Chadwick moved the weasel's paw all around when he said 'allll'). People sometimes think I'm a little monkey, but the last monkey I saw fishing, he just didn't know what he was doing. It was so funny."
   "This gregarious weasel," Chadwick said in his own voice, "so full of life and love. Especially life." He was still moving the weasel's paws around as he spoke, but no one seemed to notice.
   Back at Anna's place he said to the weasel, "Will you do your little dance there? Go on, do your little dance there. Do the dance you were doing earlier. Go on... No, he won't do it now. He's too tired after all the dancing he was doing earlier. No, he will!" Chadwick moved the weasel about in a dance. "He'll be very tired after that."
   Chadwick thought the owner would surely notice that there was something different about the weasel, so he decided to throw him over the hedge and say he ran away. "He'd be better off in the wild anyway," he said to Jimmy. "Even when he's dead. Especially when he's dead."
   When Anna went inside, Chadwick went over to the hedge. He swung the weasel back and forth a few times in preparation for his throw, but on the final backswing, the weasel regained consciousness and jumped out of his arms.
   The weasel ran around in circles for a while, and then he stopped and glared at Chadwick.
   "So he wasn't dead?" Jimmy said.
   Anna's sister arrived shortly after that. The weasel continued to glare at Chadwick, even as he was being led away in his owner's arms.

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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