“I honestly thought it was a typo,” explained Paul, as he smoothed the rumpled map over the rough planks of the bridge, pointing to the label he had—up until about five minutes ago—assumed to mean “Toll Bridge”.
“Sorry. I can’t read, either,” said the troll, and ate him.
Jeremy Petter is a writer, actor, and editor for LoadingReadyRun, an online sketch comedy troupe with four regular series on The Escapist.
Every night, Reginald tossed and turned in his bed, covering his ears with his pillow, but the slurping and sipping and smacking just wouldn’t stop.
He never said anything, though; the rent was too good to risk a conflict.
He eventually began to wonder about all the “Missing Pet” posters.
This story was based on a title suggested by @ugotpauld.
I want to eat my flatmate
I think he knows it, too
He watches me suspiciously
Whenever we buy food
It’s happening tomorrow
I’m going to boil his head
Wait: is this a man-shaped pan
Hidden beneath his bed?
I want to eat my flatmate
He may eat me instead
This story/poem is based on a title suggested by @big_poppa_G.
Mouse hid in the dark corner. The piece of bread laying on the floor looked like a complete meal to the starving mammal.
Fear set aside, ready to jump into the world feet first, he blindly took his chance.
Cat had its dinner, slurping the tail like a spaghetti noodle.
Sabrina Hicks has a passion for writing and animal rights. Besides writing she donates time at animal shelters and now owns three dogs, one cat, and a bird.
“Eat your rice pudding, young man!”
“I don’ wanna!”
“Eat it all up, or you won’t get any ninja turtles!”
“But Mooooooooooom…”
“I’ll tell the store to never let you have a Donatello ever!”
That did it. Little Billy ate rice pudding every day for the rest of his life.
“Finally!” complained Fluffy the cat in the softly exasperated voice of a young mother. “The kittens are down for nap time. All they ever do is eat, sleep, and whine!”
Mittens, her husband, mewed appreciatively. “What should we do with our free time?”
“Grab a snack and get some shuteye.”
There once was a dragon named Scott Davidson. The higher-ups liked him, a real go-getter. He was destined for the top.
One day, he was covering for Robert, the hiring manager. An applicant walked in and screamed, “HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL! IT’S AN UGLY DRAGON!”
Scott ate him.
The End.
Ebon Wumon originally submitted this story as an entry in the Mere 50 Words contest.
“Caw,” said the crow, turning its blind eye towards her. She always fell for it. What would today’s treat be? The big knife meant cooking day. That meant meat scraps or fish-guts or chicken skin. It hopped greedily to her outstretched hand.
She stroked it. It was finally fat enough.
Today’s story was originally submitted by Lenny as an entry in the Mere 50 Words contest.
“Want to go out tonight?” Kevin asked.
“I’d rather stay in,” said Jack. “It’s been a rough week. I went to break-up dinners with different girls on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday.”
“I can see how that would be emotionally draining…”
“Emotionally? Heck no. But I’ve gained, like, seven pounds!”
“Life is like pizza,” Giovanni once told me. “You can cover it with different toppings, but the core ingredients are the same. And no matter how you prepare it, some people enjoy eating it more than others.”
I thought he was so wise. Then I learned he was a cannibal.