I’m late for the lesson.
Old Crouch the Grouch smiles pleasantly. I sit down.
Why isn’t he screaming at me for being late? What’s all this coloured Plasticine for on the desks? Why’s that music playing? Why’s he wearing a suit? Why’s everyone working?
Then I notice her. Ofsted inspector.
Arthur Brown had a long career in teaching. He saw a lot of changes and never did really get used to them. He draws comfort from the fact that no-one else seemed to either.
They wanted stories too grotesque, outlandish, and offensive to be published on FiftyWordStories.com or any mainstream web or print publication.
I selected three stories from my bottom drawer, stories filled with violence, sex, sacrilege, and scatology.
They were all accepted.
I’ll have to change my name and leave town!
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching at a university, software development, web application development, and voter database compilation and distribution. He is now spending his time with his grandchildren and writing memoirs and short stories. This is a true story of his experiences submitting to a contest.
My surgeon departs the room.
With a reassuring smile, the anesthesiologist tells me to count down from 100.
98, 97, 96…
Before leaving, he farts loudly. He turns to me with a menacing look.
I close my eyes, pretending not to have heard. My future in his hands, I sleep.
Kevin McManus wrote this story.
“I’m worried about our youngest daughter,” a concerned parent said.
“I’ve been monitoring Carrie’s online activity. In recent weeks, she’s posted dozens of photos on social media sites, and I’ve noticed she doesn’t appear in a single one of them. I think she’s suffering from low selfie esteem!”
John H. Dromey has had short fiction published in Black Denim Lit #7, Plan B Magazine, Plasma Frequency Magazine, and elsewhere.
Do I look to you as though I’ve recently suffered spontaneous human combustion, you silly man? I say of you, Lawrence, what I have always said: that you are a silly man.
Wait. Perhaps that charred looking fellow in the bandages is the one to whom you should be speaking.
Philip Zunzuncito Sequoia is a writer whose work has graced such fine publications as Freedbook and Patternotion.
Harold Hipps didn’t know the IHOP he decided to rob that Tuesday morning was hosting the annual Catawaba Falls law enforcement breakfast.
He also didn’t initially think much of the two men in suits paying their bill at the register.
That is, until he pulled out his painted pellet gun.
Nathan currently lives in South Carolina and is working on a book.
Once it was the worst.
Now the teachers all get merit pay increases, the superintendent wins national awards, the average SAT is 2303, and all graduates go to Harvard.
Actually, the only graduate. They kicked the other students out in first grade. That’s how they keep the averages so high.
Harry Demarest has retired after careers encompassing scientific research, teaching at a university, software development, web application development, and voter database compilation and distribution. He is now spending his time with his grandchildren and writing memoirs and short stories.
“I love to see a man cooking. It’s something sexy to see the pot being mixed and the vegetables added. The aroma is out of this world. Mind you, only a man could spice up a dish like that.”
“You’re some kind of sicko. I’d much rather see beef cooking.”
Connell went off cooking programs a long time ago, but unfortunately not food. Read more of his fractured words at paragraphplanet, home.wtd-magazine.com, and postcardshorts.com.
You like my shoes? My silver dress, too? Thanks, they’re new.
Don’t dance, no I don’t, just here with some friends. Go dance with her. You did before. Not your type? So not my problem.
Puhleez, don’t “soul mate” me. We just met.
Wanna meet the nine-mil in my bag?
Joey doesn’t dance. He doesn’t wear dresses either.
The birthday boy got a parrot because he loved pirates. He also received hardtack and salted meat. He ate them every day. “Yarr!” he shouted, chewing the unchewable and waving his cutlass.
No fruit all summer.
At school he show-and-telled his bleeding gums. The other boys, duly impressed, asked how.
TL Krawec loves pirates, too.