“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.
Life as a superhero has become difficult with the preponderance of cell-phones. Phone booths are getting so rare as to be nonexistent. One is forced to change into tights in a Port-o-Potty when one can find one. Unfortunately, clothes left in a portable toilet usually aren’t there when you return.
This story, by L. Christopher Bird, was originally submitted for the Mere 50 Words contest.
The kids crawled all over the playground.
“Who’s It?”
“Jimmy is!”
“The ground’s lava! If you touch it, you’re It!”
Tamara thought being It might be fun. So she went to one of the ladders, took a deep breath, and hopped down…
Lava burns. A lot. But she died painlessly.
He had the biggest, bushiest, amazingest beard.
People would approach him in restaurants or on the street and ask to take his picture. He was half celebrity, half tourist attraction.
The mayor accused him of using a fake beard, but testing determined that it was real.
The mayor was impeached.
Sigmund dove for cover, gunshots ringing in his ears.
“Hello,” said Carl’s ghost.
“Girly scream!” said Sigmund.
“You just killed me,” said Carl’s ghost.
“…Sorry?” squeaked Sigmund.
Carl’s ghost shrugged.
“Blam!” said Carl’s partner’s gun as it shot Sigmund.
“Girly scream!” said Carl’s partner.
“I’m really hungry,” said Carl’s ghost.
She sat on the couch and wished she was in Italy eating sushi with chopsticks. Or in Guam eating steak with a spork. She’d even settle for pizza in the Bahamas, or a spoon and some carrots…
But she was older now, and darn it, she was on a diet!
This story was written with input from @zaro27, @Caelum_Sky, @clayben, and @captainmakr on Twitter, who provided me with some interesting foods, countries, and eating utensils.
“That’s enough!” roared the Prince.
“But Your Majesty…”
“I said that’s enough!”
The page lowered his head and cautiously withdrew the cereal box. “But the doctor said–”
“Hang the doctor!” shouted the Prince. “Behead him! If I only want to eat six Cheerios, I’m only going to eat six Cheerios!”
“The sky is falling!” cried Chicken Little. “We must go tell the king!”
The king called for the tallest crane in the kingdom and sent three women up in it with sewing needles and strong thread. They mended the sky and sewed the rips up nice and tight.
The end.
“Oh man… You got owned! And he took your girlfriend, too! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to become a recluse for two years and teach myself advanced martial arts so I can rescue her and be a hero!”
“That’s dumb.”
“…True. I’ll just find a new girlfriend.”
“These are your time-keeping files? What kind of a Mickey Mouse operation is this?”
“Look, we’re doing the best we can, under the circumstances.”
The auditor from Corporate was clearly unimpressed. “You’re missing essential paperwork, your tax numbers are off, and worst of all, you’ve missed Minnie’s last three paycheques!”
The alternate title for this story could be “Disorganized in Disneyland”.