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
“That’s twenty pounds, thank ye sir,” burbled the bumpy-faced imp of a man behind the counter.
“Twenty pounds?” protested the customer. “For some hole-ridden leather that hardly deserves to be called a boot?”
The shop assistant slammed and locked the door.
“Twenty pounds,” the imp cackled, “in currency or flesh.”
This story was based on a title suggested by @HBird_James.
“Catrina,” said Professor Brownhair, “you’ve been marking students’ papers with blue ink. What is the meaning of this!?”
“Red is so… angry,” said Catrina.
Professor Brownhair proffered a photograph of a winged child holding a pickaxe. “They mine the red ink,” he intoned. “Save the cherubs’ jobs, Catrina. Save them!“
He lived inside his phone, drifting from app to app and nesting in the dim recesses of the End Call button.
He’d been there since the rotary days. The passing years had drastically reduced his living space.
He had no idea how he’d fit his mattress into a Bluetooth headset.
The day Tom was born, his father wore a high hat.
As a two-year-old, Tom loved taking a ride on his mother’s knee.
When he was four, he watched his brother catch rabbits in a snare.
At six, a pony gave him a nasty kick.
Naturally, Tom became a cowboy.
I know, I know, explaining jokes isn’t funny, but… form your own conclusions.
Fred was a frustrated fool.
“I’ve been trying and trying for hours,” he sighed helplessly, “but I just can’t push this nail through this two-by-four. Do you think I’m doing it wrong?”
He looked over to his companion, MC Hammer, who prepared himself for the fulfillment of his life’s purpose.
This story is based on a title suggested by @danzama.
We bumped one another in the mall.
“Well excuse me,” she pouted.
But I didn’t. Her tone, her look, and her behaviour were a sad excuse for civility, so I excused myself from the situation.
Satisfied, I proceeded to the next entry in my Word-Practice Dictionary: excycloduction would be harder.
It had been a fantastic idea, in theory.
For months they had lived together in harmony, sharing a common home and a common purpose.
Then the new litterbox arrived. From that day forward, it was every cat for himself.
Except when they were puppeteering Obama. They still did that together.