Very Slight Stories | Like short stories, only shorter.

'Darcy and O'Mara' is a novel by Arthur Cronin.
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Tuesday, June 22, 2010


Basil won a stair-lift

   Basil won a stair-lift in a raffle organised by his local Amateur Dramatics Society to raise money for the costumes for their Christmas pantomime. Basil was delighted with his prize, even though it was a second-hand stair-lift, and he had no need for one. He put up the stair-lift in his garden. At first he was proud of his new garden ornament, but after a few weeks he started to think that it looked bare on its own, so he built a stairs to go with it. This didn't have the effect he was hoping for. The stairs with the stair-lift looked even more bare than the stair-lift on its own, so he built a house around them.
   His new house was better than the old one, so he knocked the old one and made a garden there instead. He put up the stair-lift in his new garden, but it still looked bare, so he built a stairs and a house to go with it. His new house was better than the old one, so he knocked the old one and made a garden there instead. He put up the stair-lift in his new garden...
   After eighteen demolitions and constructions he ended up with an extraordinary house. It was three storeys high at the back, seven at the front and eight at one side. There were thirty-five rooms, not counting all the secret ones. He was sorry he'd made the kitchen so big. It felt all wrong, and he wished he could go back a few houses, to when he had the perfect kitchen. But getting it back the way it was would have been very difficult. It seemed easier to change his life to suit his new kitchen, and one morning he had a brilliant idea: he'd get married and have kids.
   He got his keys and he went out the front door to get married and have kids, but just after he'd stepped outside he stopped to think about his plan. What if he got a wife and kids who didn't match his house? He'd have to change the house again, because changing the wife and kids could be difficult. So he hired actors to play his wife and kids, just to see if he could match them to his house. Chinese orphans, Russian wives and children raised by wolves were all tested on his house before he found the right blend. His wife was a French film star. He had a good selection of prodigies amongst the kids. There was a concert pianist and a mathematician, and his youngest daughter was both a concert pianist and a mathematician.
   After getting the family right he thought he'd finally be able to enjoy his house, but he was struggling to get some of the smaller details right, like what breed of dog they should have. When he won a caravan in a raffle organised by a rugby club, he decided to take a trip in it to clear his mind of the house, hoping that a fresh perspective would finally enable him to get everything right. He couldn't decide where to go in his caravan, but he realised that he didn't need to decide. He could go anywhere. At last he'd found something that felt just right, so he sold his house and family. He was content travelling around the country in his caravan, without any destination in mind.

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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