Write A Really Short Story In 100 Words Or Less
A few people have said in the 50-word story thread that they would like more space, but it doesn't seem to have occurred to anyone to start another thread for that purpose. So, in my superhero identity of Captain Obvious, here I come to the rescue.
Since I'm starting the thread, I guess I need to do it properly with a piece. I don't really write myself, since I think I'm much better at ideas than execution, so I'm curious what you all will think.
I thought of the opening lines quite a while ago and filed them away, and then recently they came back along with some context. This is much darker than I think I would normally go, but when something gets into your head, you have to run with it, right?
I've always liked the art of saying a lot with a little, letting the reader fill in blanks that the writer doesn't need to fill in himself. This piece became basically a telling of the calm between two storms, with the object being to give the storms more power through implication than they'd have if seen directly. Please let me know if I've succeeded at all, or how I could do better.
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Some things people shouldn't know. I know what skin tearing sounds like. I know what brain smells like.
Now I'm supposed to talk about it, and also socialize as much as possible. But when you do talk about it, people stop inviting you to parties. Eventually, they stop picking up when you call.
So how do I break down my walls when people on the outside are trying to keep them up? Answer: Remove the people first.
Luckily, though walls are hard, people are soft. I know; I've seen them squish.
A Skunk Cabbage by Any Other Name Still Stinks
Uh-oh.
Yours fooly’s previous really short story (in the 50 Words or Fewer thread) stemmed from what was believed to be Hank’s surname, not Sylvia’s maiden name. But keeping that original premise, the two halves have been combined.
Sylvia’s husband, Hank Payinbut, came from a long line of Payinbuts. His father Solly was a gambler notorious for welshing on his bets. His grandfather Horace was a horse’s Payinbut. Little is known about Great-Grandpa Calvin, other than the fact that he wasn’t in any way great.
Sylvia hated Hank but stayed with him for the sake of the little Payninbuts. She hid her disgust for Hank with code names like “Stalin” or “Il Duce.” Behind Hank’s back, she referred to him as “Attila,” but to his face she called him “Hun.”
Treasure in the Hardware Store
Dr. Roketscienski needed an extension cord for his time machine when he saw a collection of 100 science fiction movies on sale for ten dollars.
He punched the numbers into his calculator: "That's ten cents each!"
He said things like, "How is this possible?" and "It's amazing!" After checking from left to right, he even whispered, "There IS a God!"
Why He's the Father of Our Country
On his day off from school, Jared and a healthy amount of unhealthful snacks were perched in front of the tube. He was all set for a pleasant viewing experience, but suddenly snapped the “off” button on the remote.
“What’s the matter?” his mother asked. “You usually love TV!”
“Aw, every couple a seconds there’s another commercial for mattress sales. What does Presidents’ Day have to do with mattresses?”
“It’s simple,“ his mother replied. “All up and down the East Coast, everywhere you look there’s a sign saying ‘George Washington Slept Here.’ ”
The Case of the Missing Hubby
Sylvia Payninbut wanted to know why her husband missed her lecture.
"I got busy."
"The Rokescienskis were there."
"Martha and...what's his name?"
"Bob."
"They don't know squat about literature."
"Hank, were you squeezing someone you shouldn't have been?"
"Me? Of course not!"
"What about Martha Roketscienski? She's quite attractive."
"Sure. She's cute, but she's married to that time-travelling, universe-collapsing nut."
"When Bob's not thinking, he's a fine-looking man."
"Are you suggesting that the four of us have a..."
"I'm saying, if you ever miss one of my public lectures again, I'll tear whatever bimbo you're wasting time on to pieces."
Martha, a Source of Mystery
While Bob Roketscienski and Tom Gudgi drank their espressos at the Sacred Bean, Tom asked, "You look depressed. You should be happy. Didn't you get that time gizmo working the other day?"
"I think Martha's having an affair."
"Oh...Yeah...I know. I saw her leave the Lucky Bastard last Saturday with Sylvia Payninbut's househubby. What's that guy's name anyway?.
"It's Dip****."
:wink5:
:biggrin5:
"You know, they say he's a 'poet'."
:lol:
:lol:
"I mean, really, does that monkey-brained moron have any masculine features about him whatsoever?"
"None that I can't think of, except when he's with someone else's wife."
Befriending Physarum polycephalum
After Sylvia Payninbutt let him know in confidence that her no-good, two-timing husband was doing his wife, Dr. Roketscienski made excuses to avoid Martha.
He aimed his research at disproving the claim that brainless slime mold behaved intelligently. He thought this would be easy, but after putting it through food mazes then chopping it up only to watch it come back together like a couple making up, he despaired.
He did find out that slime molds, by nature, were good listeners. He told it everything he didn't know about Martha's unfaithfulness and confessed slime molds were smarter than he was.
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eas2zOSKIaQ
http://www.scientificamerican.com/ar...s-slime-molds/
After Georgette's Poetry Reading
Georgette sat beside Martha Roketscienski at the Lucky Bastard. Hank Payninbut began reading his poetry.
"Hank's wife has affairs," Georgette whispered.
"That doesn't surprise me."
"Am I as pretty as Sylvia?"
"Sure."
"I don't have money like she does."
"That's why he married her. Look, Georgette. I know you like Hank, but I think he's gay."
"Oh. I know--for a fact--he's not gay."
"Oh."
"How's Bobby?"
"He's researching slime mold."
"Eeeeuuuuuu."
"He acts like he's getting out of my way so I can leave him."
"Awww. I wish Sylvia were so sweet. Hank would get half. We could get married."