Would you do what I did if you knew what I know?
You’d like to think you would. Heck, I’d like to think you would, too. But I know you. I know a lot of things. I doubt you would have followed through.
Sick puppies make messes that scar psyches.
Would you do what I did if you knew what I know?
You’d like to think you would. Heck, I’d like to think you would, too. But I know you. I know a lot of things. I doubt you would have followed through.
Sick puppies make messes that scar psyches.
Scrib scrub, scrib scrub…
Inch by inch, the tiled floor returned to its original lustre.
The scrubber had mixed feelings about the procedure. On the one hand, it was a tedious chore. But on the other hand, it was a pain in the butt.
Actually, his feelings were pretty consistent.
“Flip you for it,” he challenged.
“You’re on,” she assented.
“Heads,” he said.
“I’ll go tails.”
He did a twisting somersault-and-a-half, landing on his head.
She scoffed and triple-flipped backwards, coming to rest on her strong, poofy tail.
“You win,” he said. “Nice tail! Grow it yourself?”
“Nope. Plastic surgery.”
“My life is so mundane,” she complained.
“You’re right,” he agreed. “Maybe you need to spice things up a bit.”
“Yeah! I’m just missing that little ‘je ne sais caliente’!”
“A little ‘I don’t know hot’?”
“Yeah! Like a European boyfriend!”
“That almost makes sense,” he said. “But not quite.”
Critics and laymen shared exclamations of delight as they wandered in awe through the halls of Fallo’s gallery.
“The texture!” they said. “The movement! The tone! The pizzazz!”
Everyone wanted to know Fallo’s secret.
He told them, “My tools are my heart and my toothbrush,” and flashed a paint-stained smile.
Ten minutes later, Jon was still staring into the open refrigerator.
“I thought you weren’t hungry,” Stephanie said.
“I’m not,” Jon replied, closing the door. “Ever wonder if it gets lonely?”
“The fridge?” she asked.
Jon nodded.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
The fridge tried not to cry.
Ryan Hall is a computer programming graduate student at the University at Buffalo in NY, hoping to go into game design. He started writing microfiction to deal with stress from programming projects.
It was like a real-world logic puzzle.
Bobby Blowfish should sit with Angela Angelfish, but he and Tommy Tuna don’t get along.
The Seahorse family should be near the dessert table, but keep them away from the punch bowl!
And no one wanted another “who let the orcas in” fiasco.
This story is based on a title suggested by @klancashire.
Snavrin the garter snake shivered in the grass and dreamed of being warm-blooded. Life was cold!
That afternoon, a little boy and a little girl caught him. He was terrified!
The girl slipped a set of green pajamas over his neck. Now he was warm!
But he looked pretty silly.
This story is based on a title suggested by @StealingZen.
“Do come in!” offered Gerald Bradge. “I have some tea on.”
Gerald was a softhearted older gentleman who had unfortunately grown a dark, heavy set of down-turned eyebrows, which had significantly damaged his reputation.
He had his pride, but I’d brought my clippers and chloroform this time.
He needed me.
This story is based on a title suggested by @hippodragon9.
Water is my favourite drink
I sure find it delicious
If some old bad guy stole it all
I’d find it quite malicious
What would we do?
Where would we go?
We’d get so dehydrated
That’s why I built this reservoir
And sat down here
And waited
My lifestyle’s underrated