Pope invents game: Rock, Papal, Scissors (#Six Word Stories)

VATICAN-POPE-MASS-CANDLEMAS

2. Michael Bay’s coffin transforms into Decepticon

3. British queue achieves polite repressed sentience

4. T-Rex forms prehistoric band “Marc Bolan”

5. Dalek confirmed as worst callcentre accent

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7. Bono finds what he’s looking for

8. Territorial Army refuse to share barracks

9. First rule of acronym club: N.T.Z.A.R.G

10. Cannibal takes wife’s hand in marriage

 

Previous six-word stories…

Six Word Stories

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Filters…

sarahs-spider-web-potter

What little effort it would take to snip the silk strings and banish you from my home – a fleeting act of domesticity.

But what if I leave you be? Let the web reach out and encroach, let the dust reclaim…

Let the phone ring to silence…

…the friends fall away…

…the Career careen off the rails into sidings.

Liquidate and eek out – conventions unbinding.

Unkempt, bedraggled, utterly free.

Not dementia or defeat.

Something other.

Something…

The moment passes

A duster makes light work of a spider’s domain.

A fever dream is, once again, held at bay…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers 

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Pipe-Dream My Ass…

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Tragedy struck today at The Science Expo. This photo captured the terrifying moment when Dr. Karen Roe, inventor of an invisibility serum, sat down on Hal Froom, founder of Shrinkray.com. A publicist for the famously roguish womaniser stated ‘It’s the way he would’ve wanted to go.’

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Insect Overlords…

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George emerged from his cell with a skip in his step.

‘Proboscis Saturday!’

All the S’s.

Sssssssss.

So much better than ‘Compound Eye Wednesday‘ – No alliteration there.

Sure, he’d have to listen to Gary banging on about how he used to be a hedge-fund manager, but the work was easy and he could let his mind wander, such as it was.

The apocalypse had been a positive boon to the intellectually challenged – an affirming experience – the great leveller.

And as for those with a proclivity for submissive activities…well!

George scrubbed away with a big fat smile on his silly ole face.

Gary mumbled something impenetrable about investing in derivatives…

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers 

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Donde es Wally?

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Down broken back-roads and over hostile territory the journalist journeyed, till finally he arrived at a one-horse town and a nameless bar. There he encountered a sunken-eyed, bearded vagabond.

‘I knew someone would find me eventually,’ the vagabond growled.

‘I’ve come a long way to hear your story.’

‘Mine is a tale of hardship and woe. Have you any idea what it’s like to endure the indignity of being constantly pointed out in a crowd, no anonymity, the butt of every joke and sarcastic aside – forcing you at last into exile?’

‘Why didn’t you just take off the stripy top and stop wearing that bobble hat?’

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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The Great Question Of Our Age…

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The other moths treated Gary like a pariah.

‘Why don’t you fly towards the light ‘Gary’? Illumination not good enough?’

He often wondered whether they’d ascended to the Promised Land, or ended their days concussed and in flames.

When asked what he believed in Gary replied:

Martin’s favourite jumper

 

Written for: Twittering Tales

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Serendipidouche…(Friday Fictioneers)

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Percival was a steel magnate struggling to hide his family’s bankruptcy.

Because he was bankrupt he had failed to pay his gas bill.

As such the ornate lamps that lit his vast estate stood dormant.

Because it was dark a daring vision of loveliness lost her bearings and crashed her light aircraft in a nearby field.

Percival rushed to her aid and the two were instantly smitten.

News of their unusual and joyous union spread throughout the land, and lucrative public appearances abounded.

The vision of loveliness later lost interest…

But Perceval paid her little mind…

After all…

HE WAS RICH!!!

 

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

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