Huddled in the muddy trenches, they dodged raindrops and warded off bullets with prayers.
“Man, this is really serious!” one soldier shouted to the other.
“Yeah, he usually writes lighthearted stories! This subject matter doesn’t really lend itself to jokes!”
“He’ll probably do some kind of meta-level cop-out with it!”
It was torturous sensory overload.
All the colours of the rainbow (along with a few nonconformist hues) strobed across a brightly illuminated screen. Dissonant, detuned tones blared and shrieked on powerful speakers.
He’d been told he was disabled, ineffective, useless. But the deaf, blind secret agent knew: ignorance is bliss.
He sprang awake, stifling a scream.
“It was just a dream!” he panted. “I’m not standing in front of the classroom in my underwear!”
“Keith, wake up!” shouted the teacher.
His eyes flew open and he blushed as the class laughed.
That was how Keith discovered his embarrassment-induced, false-awakening narcolepsy.
She looked left, then right, then strode purposefully out into the street.
Horns blared as drivers swerved to avoid her.
Oblivious to the mayhem around her, she reached the sidewalk, where she knelt and asked, “No, really, Ms. Chicken. What are you doing on the other side of the road?”
The girl cries in the subway station. I leave my friends to themselves and go over to her. We have a couple of drinks while she talks her sorrow away. The next morning I leave her, knowing she’ll be alright.
That’s what I should have done.
Please forgive me.
Jonas has written this story a couple of times before in different formats for different purposes in different languages.
“Man, the new episode of that cartoon yesterday was phenomenal. There were a lynx and a puma, and they were riding around inside a jaguar…”
“What kind of Jaguar? An XFR? An XKR? An XJ?”
“…No, it was a robotic jaguar.”
“Like a Transformer?”
“I don’t think you’re understanding me.”
Can someone please please please please draw me a sketch of a lynx and a puma riding inside a robotic jaguar? PLEEEEEEAASE!?
This story was based on @gaymerinla‘s response to my request for two mammals and a vehicle.
George and Geoffrey Giraffe, those rascally brothers, were bored one day, so they decided to “borrow” a helicopter.
“We’ll have a whale of a time!” they told each other. “Let’s tie a net to the chopper and dredge up an orca!”
But they’d forgotten that their necks were so long.
This story was based on a call for two mammals and a vehicle. @BlameWizards provided giraffe, whale, and helicopter.
“Ten… Nine… Eight… Seven…”
“Ha! Poor seven. Gone before its time.”
“What?”
“You said nine ate seven!”
“…That’s really juvenile.”
“Oh, lighten up! Why is everyone always so serious around here? It’s not like we’re performing heart surgery or anything.”
“No. We’re just launching manned space flights.”
“Those are real?”
Cats smile because
But mostly, it’s the justifiable superiority complex.
This “story” is based on a title suggested by @Haberley. And for the record, I love cats.
Chester “Chatterbox” Paolo struggled against his bonds. “Let me go! I swear I didn’t say nothin’ to nobody!”
“Tell it to the fishes, rat!” said his assailant, pushing him off the bridge.
Chatterbox plunged. As the icy water filled his lungs, he began to regret his choice of gangster nickname.
Matthew Holman is a student of English Literature who finds it easier to write fifty-word stories than to finish his dissertation.