“Oh man, I am in so much trouble,” he gasped.
He thought he’d slept in past his wedding ceremony. It was the worst feeling of his life.
“Don’t worry,” said his fiancée when he called her. “You didn’t ruin the wedding. I found a replacement groom. You’re off the hook.”
She’d planned to make the most dramatic appearance of all time, bigger than Blücher at the Battle of Waterloo, bigger than Santa on Christmas Eve, bigger than Uncle Joe at her 18th birthday.
But she was a full day late.
When teleporting onto a moving ship, that’s a significant problem.
On the thirteenth day of Christmas, her true love gave her thirteen feral children.
He intended to adopt them into a loving, nurturing home, but having been raised from infancy by lions, they were just too far gone.
She ended up with five drummers, two ladies, and a turtle dove.
LaRoche leaned over the edge and gazed down on the street below.
There wasn’t even a single car.
That wasn’t unusual, because it was 1723. Louis XV had just attained his majority, and it wouldn’t be long before the Treaty of St. Petersburg was signed.
Then he jumped.
Then he landed.
Today’s fifty-word story was partially inspired by reading Les Miserables, which is a very description-heavy, context-heavy book. Lord of the Rings is another. I love them both.
I never understood checkers.
When you leap over another piece, it’s captured? What, do they all have gigantic nets or something?
And why flat discs? Why not something more representative, like in chess?
When the UFOs began to descend, I realized the truth: they had been preparing us for war.
Soon to be a student of culinary arts and therefore thrilled that he can call himself an “art student” and act pretentious on a technicality, Bruce Rytel’s hobbies include writing, gaming, and going by a pseudonym.
There once was a terrifying beast with shaggy hair and pointed teeth.
A pure-hearted village child possessed a magical cup. It always flowed with water, no matter how much you drank from it.
The child gave the cup to the beast, which devoured it.
Now the beast can’t stop peeing.
This story was based on a title provided by @DewMan001.
“Do your chores, young man!” said Mom.
“Do your chores, young lady!” said Mom.
“Do your chores, middle-aged man!” said Mom.
“Do your chores, little baby!” said Mom.
“What about your chores, Mom?” asked Everyone.
“My chore is delegating,” said Mom.
The family called for elections. Mom stuffed the ballot.
He defended himself the only way he knew how: intimidation was his only real weapon.
“Boogidy boo!” he cried, arching his shoulders and spreading his arms to make himself look bigger.
The kitten mewled. It was blind, so it couldn’t see his Intimidation Pose anyways.
But the grizzly bear could.
“You’re my favourite, but she is my most favourite!”
“Now Jeffy, what have I told you about picking favourites?”
“Always be ready to change my mind, and it’s ok to make more than one person think they’re my favourite as long as they don’t both find out?”
“That’s my boy!”
She was surprised by how well her product was selling. She had expected to get support from the feminist crowd, perhaps some attention in the local media, but instead she saw significant, straightforward financial success.
What the creator of Deter-Gent man-repelling laundry soap hadn’t anticipated were all the male purchasers.