Six Word Stories #4

2. Henry emerged from teleporter half hoover

3. Jesus’ fingerprints found on bunny’s corpse

4. Hell fails Ofsted inspection. Heads roll

5. Santa incarcerated after elf sweatshop raid

7. Brian May enters Nazareth riding badger

8. Miniturised man bites sleeping bed-bug

9. Jewish bank denies holocaust-denyer’s loan

10. Dustin Hoffman obsesses over Rainman sequel

12. Average white band received lacklustre review

13. Velociraptor sues over ‘chicken-splicing’ debacle

14. Terrible first date inside troll’s stomach

15. Dyslexic divorcees win custody of diks

 

See previous: Six Word Stories #3

One-Up-Man-Ship…(Friday Fictioneers)

‘You’re nobody in life unless you own a vessel sumptuous enough to accommodate a fully laden helicopter from which a bevy of scantily-clad uber-babes / Adonis’s (delete as appropriate) endlessly spill…

…Or at least, that’s the word on the street; a word spread by yours truly.

Boat building is all about leveraging insecurities.

You’re worthless without stuff!

My current arm’s race involves a pot-bellied platinum magnate, a wig-wearing premiership footballer and an Internet starlet who takes copious photos of her bottom.

As for me – I don’t own a boat.

But you should see the size of my house!

 

(100 words)

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

Twittering Tales: Prey of Bird…

“We can confirm that the suspect was neutralized in a drone strike. The drone sent compromising photos to his wife and she emasculated him.”   (140 characters)

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

Fall back on breeding…

Rita’s dinner-parties were the stuff of legend – a heady mix of rich conversation and frugal ingenuity. With crepe-paper chandeliers and coat-hanger candelabra she carried off an air of flamboyant spectacle.

Rita herself was grace-personified – a slight, elegant frame of dignity and decorum that desperate poverty had failed to mollify. She sported plastic earrings as though they were diamonds and wore rags as though they were modelling her.

At any given gathering attention inevitably turned to the oil painting that dominated the far wall of her pokey basement flat.

‘Ah yes, my ancestor – the countess,’ she began, as though the words were not well-rehearsed, ‘regaling the revolutionaries who’d arrived to cart her away to the gulag. If the stories are to be believed she made them wait while the portrait was painted and disarmed them with etiquette.’

Guests never failed to take the bait. ‘So, you descend from aristocracy?’

‘Yes,’ Rita always replied wistfully, ‘but alas nothing now remains of that decadent time…well…’

With subtle self-intimation her body language concluded the tale…

…Perhaps one thing.

 

(175 words)

Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Six Word Stories #3

2. Radioactive flan. Freak accident. FLAN MAN!

3. Selfie-stick laments enabling preaning douche…

4. Cockney bible offends ‘Crusty Buns’ (nuns)

5. Millipede copyrights trainers and becomes gazillionaire

7. Deaf Lepers form terrible tribute band

8. Edward trouser-press hands? No…Edward…

9. R Kelly’s final words: I believe (OR: Turns out R Kelly can’t fly)

10. Time-travelling pickpocket steals own wallet

12. With third helping Jagger finally satisfied

13. Wonderful news Bertie. Satan’s popping over!

14. Red-headed step child. The Prophecy!

15. Suicidal McDonald turns bun on himself…

 

Previous entries include:

6 Word Stories #1

6 Word Stories #2

Twittering Tales: Babushka

‘I don’t understand it,’ said the Russian doll, ‘These shopping bags are getting bigger and home is getting further away!’   (123 characters)

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

Keep the Lexicans out…(100ww)

Ron Lexican was the greediest man to ever walk the earth. There was nothing he wouldn’t shamelessly usurp – other people’s land, other people’s wives…

It got so bad that his neighbours banded together to build a big, beautiful wall with which to contain him.

When Ron learned of their treachery his cheeks burned incandescent orange with rage. He attempted to scale the spiky barrier but his tiny hands were not up to the task…

…So he tweeted out insults, but alas the wall was fitted with a device that blocked internet traffic. Ron was never heard from again #SAD…

(100 words)

Written for: Friday Fictioneers (100 word fiction)

Extrapolation (FFfAW)

…This is the guy I was telling you about. He’s here every Thursday, regular as clockwork.

…A decade maybe? Always with the second guitar in a case that he never opens.

…No, he sets it up next to the speaker and stands away from it.

…Mostly call and response songs. He calls and no one responds. You only get one side of the…

…I think her name is (or was) Maggie.

…Because for all his many tunes he always comes back to that name – ‘Maggie Mae’, ‘Maggie’s farm’, ‘Little Maggie.’

…I see her as an Irish tearaway – unmanageable fiery red hair, a checked dress, pale legs, plimsols…

…A voice that can find the harmony in any melody. We’ll make a tormented poet of you yet!

…What? And leave her guitar behind? No, I think the clues point towards something more…

…What’s wrong with a little morbid curiosity?

…By just looking at his face. Whoever and wherever she is, he finds her in the music…

 

(166 words)

Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

Six Word Stories #2

2. Fine! I’ll raise our ginger child…

3. Went to Rome. Bunch of plebs!

4. Giant asteroid. No point in dieting.

5. I came. I sore. I ashamed.

7. Sales slump attributed to cannibal holocaust

8. White supremacist baker killed. Brown bread.

9. Hospital full. Everyone Kung fu fighting.

10. Ventriloquist dummy blames owner for murder

12. Eve you minx. Fancy an apple?

13. Parallel universe. King trampled under suffragette

14. Harry, lets marry. Sorry Faye. Gay

15. Hell beast, loves cooking, GSOH seeks…

 

Chivalry in decline…

‘We’ve been over this a dozen times Gregory. I grow tired of repeating myself.’

‘Yes, and I apologise for the inconvenience, but surely there’s a more mutually beneficial way of sealing our union than a duel to the death with an opponent famed throughout the land for being able to pull a man’s arms out at the sockets. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that you’re not ‘fair’ enough fair-maiden…’

‘Now Gregory, you know how I despise double-negatives!’

‘Yes…but under the circumstances of my imminent, garish dismemberment one might expect to be granted a little leeway?’

‘To win my hand you must prove your worth.’

‘But why must I be the greatest warrior? Why can’t I bake you the greatest cake? or sow you the greatest quilt?’

‘The crowd grows restless my love.’

‘OK…well, in that case…let me just go…check…that…my sword has been sufficiently sharpened.’

‘…And you’re not going to leap onto the fastest horse you can find and gallop away like the last lot?’

‘Upon my honour fairish maiden…’

 

(172 words)

Written for: Sunday Photo Fiction