Friday, January 20, 2012

A Few Short Short Stories

Someone recently suggested I put some of my fiction on my blog.  So, here is a very small selection of my microstories.  They are all ones people have commented on.  (The last one is a little silly, but it's been well-liked).  Enjoy.


Created Equal
The dentist's office was very crowded.
Because everyone has teeth.

Pressing Charges
        Occasionally, actually quite often, I'll have the almost irresistible desire to reach out and touch a stranger. Put my hand on the back of a neck, a knee, the crook of an elbow, a hip. I want to reach out at a man passing me on the street and just kiss him, in one simple gesture.
        The urge to do this is often practically overwhelming. Because it's possible, I must do it, I feel. Only with great self control do I manage to keep myself in the little invisible bubble of solitude that seems to surround every modern American.
        I told my lover, one night, of these urges of mine.
        "Don't ever do it," he said gravely.
        "I know," I laughed. "I wouldn't. I don't."
        "You can't just g around touching strangers like that."
        "I know." I thought he was referring to the social taboo. "But sometimes I want to just shake things up a little. Do what isn't done. Shock a little. Break them out of their stupor."
        "Well, don't." He was serious. "That's battery."
        "What? That's battery? As in ‘assault and battery’?
        "Yes.”
       “Touching the back of someone's neck is battery?"
       "What did you think battery was? It’s touching someone. You can't just go around touching people if they don't want you to. Grabbing someone and kissing them could definitely be battery, if they wanted to pursue it."
        I couldn't believe it. I thought I was a normal person, and here I was, without my knowing it, contemplating battery. As in assault and battery. Battery, my God! I had no idea it was so easy to behave criminally.
        "Just touching someone?" I still couldn't accept it.
        "There are laws against it," he said. "You're not allowed to just do whatever you want."
         It explained a lot, when I thought about it. Maybe it was why no one ever just grabbed and kissed me. They were frightened of the legal ramifications.

Solutions
The crows in the backyard bothered him. He'd tried all the traditional methods--from scarecrows to sonic pulses--and nothing worked. One day, while sitting on the back porch, he got so angry he took off his shoe and threw it at the nearest crow. To his surprise, his aim was true and the shoe struck the crow.

He walked over and bent over it, its wings giving a few flutters before it lay still, its eyes wide open and lifeless. He began to cry and realized that he'd been wrong. The crows had not been bothering him. It was he who had been bothering the crows.

And that was the end of his crow problem.


Consistency
People quarreled. Buildings were knocked down. Fires started. Cities were built and destroyed. Armies arose and were slaughtered. Great art was produced and lost. Babies cried and old men died. Empires rose and fell.

And yet, when it rained, everything got wet.

It Had Not Occurred to Us
Years went by. And then one day, someone finally broke out the bong.

Murder and Mayhem
        Carla had heard the horror stories. That, at some point, her head might be chopped off, suddenly, and with little warning. Apparently, it only happened when it rained. Rumors told of the ancient days, when the entire community had disappeared, almost at once, and only a few survivors lived to tell the tale. She had even heard of a time, long, long ago, when a hideous poison came into each of their homes and dissolved them into nothing, to be washed away by a flood.
       Carla was a leg hair and she feared for her life.

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