|Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.||
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Hilary and George
Billy's mother makes napkins into all sorts of shapes, like little dogs that really bark. She sometimes accidentally uses their dog as a napkin, and then she says, "I'm terribly sorry." And he says, "That's quite alright." They sometimes use Uncle George as a dog.
George is still a bachelor, but he dreams of spending the rest of his life with someone who'll tell him there's something on his nose when there's something on his nose, and scare away the wolves by hitting pots and pans. He's hoping that Hilary will be that woman. He hangs on every word she says as they walk around the garden. "At least you can say at least you've got hair, and where are all the centipedes going and do they know it's Christmas, and if they do, where are all the centipedes going?"
"That's a very, very interesting question," George said. He often said that about her questions. They followed the centipedes to answer it, and they spent a very enjoyable evening walking around the garden, through the trees and over fences, hiding behind bushes. When the stars came out she said she had a wonderful time. He didn't know what to say to that, or what to do next. As a last resort, he decided to consult the wolves, but they just pointed out that the centipedes were trashing the shed and drawing graffiti on the walls. They sometimes use Billy's metal band as centipedes.
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.
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