Six Sentence Stories
Welcome to Six Sentence Stories
Today we pay tribute to a rare form of literature, the six sentence snicker story. In this case, we're showcasing a curious collection of amusing if not absurd anecdotes by a wide array of wonky wordsmiths.
One might ask, why focus on six ...why not not consider 10 or even 20 sentences? Well the short answer is because tall tales should be brief but not boring, (hopefully some will tickle the funnybone).
Now, if that can't be done in six sentences, the tale is probably not worth telling!
Image Credit: www.clipartof.com - Illustration 85647
SEX & THE CITY - A Six-Sentence Story Worth Telling
Image Credit: Illustrator, maralina!
Samantha Tootingbeck, had to stop and think for a moment. After all, reflecting, ruminating, and reasoning the whys and wherefores of life and more importantly, giving her marvelous marbles a wonderful workout was really not her forte, so naturally it took a bit longer. In a flash of zippidy-doo-dah or whatever, the birthday suited server soon realized that slinging beer and pouring shot glasses of whisky all night long, plus passing out the usual currying favor compliments to barflies with bad attitudes and lounge lizards with loose lips did not offer much in the way of an exciting opportunity for employment advancement in Burnt Chimney Corner, North Carolina. Not long after that enigmatic effort to indulge in some splendid self-absorption, she gave her head a shake and came up with a stupendous idea. Covering her head with a sumptuous-looking piece of haberdashery would definitely set her apart from the competition. It was also a great diversionary device and, even better, a hot topic of conversation on a bad-hairy day!
Contributed by Plumsock Perriwinkle, a yappy yarnbombing enthusiat from the Merry Hell Knitting Circle in Gum Swamp, Maryland
From the "Handbook of Helpful Hints on How To Be a Snooty Scribe"
Master the art of dots and dashes -- it will keep your audience confused, bewildered and perplexed while you move on to your next sentence that doesn't make sense either ... but then neither does your forgettable story.
FETISH MY FOOT! - A few words of fanciful fiction
After years of watching folks fret about their flab, Seraglio realized there was a golden opportunity to get in on the ground floor of a girth and get yourself in shape business.
The only problem he had was how to find a way to entice the lords of lard and ladies of loose love-handles to seek his services. While "how to fit into a tight squeeze" might pique their carnal curiosity, Seraglio had serious reservations about their ability to touch their toes let alone pirouette or even pussyfoot around their palaces.
He realized however that convincing pot-bellied potentates and pudgy princesses to step on a treadmill for fifteen hours a day might be tempting the Fickle Finger of Fate to pay a visit, and he wasn't willing to accept the risk. That left only one real option to eliminate any unsightly cellulite -- belly-dancing and blood-sucking boghogs.
Contributed by Trish Totsy-Tippling, a.k.a. "Our Lady of Lite Libations", and born-again bartender at the Church of Chuckles located on a highway off-ramp approximately half-way between a destination hot tub in Red Sucker Lake, Manitoba and a peculiar place in the province of Nova Scotia called "Petoobook", (a marvellous Mi'kmaq word meaning "a long dish full of salt water".)
A COCKAMAMMIE CAREER-CHANGE - A Short Story About A Man Who Is Going Nowhere Fast
Lord Liverwurst, a penny wise and pound foolish pettycoat pensioner, had a funny feeling that having lost his love of leather of late that his hobby-horsical days in the hollyfuds were over. To make matters worse, he also realized he was spending far too much time in the company of knaves and forks, (men of mirth not to mention thinly-veiled substance and bad credit).
Frankly, the only solution he could see to this sob story about "Propinquity & Inquity", was to distract himself from his distressing state of mind. While flipping through the phone book for inspiration, he spotted just the thing he was looking for, a classified ad for the "Careers for Cads".
His thrill of the day was waiting for five hours to meet with a cross-eyed career counsellor with whom he played his favorite game, "Twenty Questions".
Delighted at the possibility of finding a new lease on his incompletely successful life to date, he wasn't at all sure what to make of the counsellor's advice: to run for election in a Rump Parliament, (a worthwhile place to use one's tongue to debate the merits of using a bowl as a guide to trim one's hair).
Contributed by Chaucer Oswald-Twistle, (a scallywag of sorts, a part-time CBC clock-watcher, and a downsized miller by trade), has few accomplishments to his name other than feeling "slightly squeamish" about showing off his earwig collection to prospective paramours as well as the Toenail and Tooth Fairy.
CRUMPETS AREN'T WORTH COOKING! - Betty Crocker Eat Your Heart Out
However, with nothing to lose except the cost of a course entitled, "Moolah 101: How to Milk Cows For All They're Worth Without Crying Over Spilled Milk", Sally Gumball sucked it up and decided to make use of her curious culinary talent.
Who else could scald the Devil in his feathers? Who else would have the stomach to serve salted eel for supper to a household filled with screaming meemies? And, who else would place a piece of pickled ham and dried tongue between two slices of bread with a dash of pith and vinegar thrown in for good measure, said to be the favorite food of the Earl of Sandwich?
After 15 years of working in the "Giddyup & Go Grub Pub" and "Puck's Pantry", the only thing she knew she loved better than cooking everyone's goose was consuming a case of scandal-proof "Scotch Mist" with "Old Scratch" after every shift.
Contributed by Oughterby Papigochic, a part-time airline baggage-handler from Frying Pan, California who in his spare time just adores leaping onto tables with sword in hand and pulling battleaxes, coats-of-arms, and miscellaneous muskets off the wall in one fell swoop, just to impress anyone who will watch him in the faint hope that they might help him realize his lifelong ambition, to land a walk-on part in a Hollywood horror film.
THE TEETOTALERS' TRYST - A Wicked Woo Story
Simon Slink-Wink, (a shy senior faculty member from the faculty of Skin-Deep Spirituality at Sunnyside Up University), and Susy Slumberbed, (a sultry somnambulent sixty-something slyph), are not your average spaced-out sort of folks one encounters in beautiful downtown dweebsville.
The word on the street was they they used to meet in out-of-the-way, off-the-beaten track places like the Scuttlebutt Skateboard Park, the Slubberdegullion Spa, or the Slapbang Shortcake Shop, so as not to draw unwarranted attention to themselves.
The unexpected appearance of goose-bumps, beads of perspiration pouring off her brow, and smudgy lipstick gloss probably was a dead-giveaway. On the other hand, maybe it was the decrepitation device in the enigmatic elevator that failed to disperse the vagrant vulgar winds emanating from this calicoe couple. And last but not least, perhaps it was that squawking "Pretty Polly" parrot they insisted on carrying around in a cage with them, who spilled the beans on this high-falutin, high-five, high-fibre lovers, who knows.
One thing is for sure, Susy and Simon, would have to take precautions in the future in order to maintain the privacy of their unrequited love affair with teapots and tinklepantries.
Contributed by George the Red and Hortence Hoola-Hoop, a couple of connubial codgers from the Wink'n, Blink'n & Nod Retirement Resort for sixty-something schmoozers and snoozers in Monkey's Eyebrow, Arizona.
Image Credit: www.melindastanley.com
THE HAPPIEST FAIRYTALE EVER - About a fanciful frog and a persistent princess
Once upon a time a fanciful frog asked a gorgeous girl, "Will you marry me?"
The gorgeous girl with good sense took one look at her potential paramour and said, "No!"
The gorgeous girl with good sense lived happily ever after.
In fact, she went shopping, dancing, camping, drank whole bottles of wine, always had a clean house, never had to cook, did what the hell she wanted, never argued, didn't get fat, travelled lots, had many lovers, didn't save money, and had all the hot water to herself.
And if that wasn't enough, she also went to the theatre, never watched sports, never had to wear friggin lacy lingerie that didn't fit; if truth be told, she had high self esteem, never cried or yelled and, would you believe, felt and looked fabulous all the time!
Incidentally, her name wasn't Goldilocks or Goody Two-Shoes!
Contributed by Ruby Ripplebottom, Founding Member of the Flashing Astonishers Society and Secretary of the Mystic Alliance of Gorgeous Regalians.
CACTUS HAVE FEELINGS TOO! - A piece of prickly prose
After my doctor told me that watching grass grow and waiting for the cows to home home wasn't good for my health, I went out and bought a prickly plant companion.
I must confess, in a moment of unadulterated weakness, I raised my voice with the sassy succulent in question. Unfortunately, a week later it expired.
Gobsmacked by the event, I went into a funk and consumed far too many magic mushrooms for my own good. Suffice to say that even the amusing apparition of a hundred fairies dancing on the head of a pin did nothing to relieve my sense of ennui nor did it fulfill my wellness potential.
The truth finally sunk in; I realized that I'm less nurturing than the damn desert.
Contributed by Wild Bill Hiccup, a mild-mannered member of the Resolute Optimists Club and President of the Polite Federation of Gents Consequential
SIMPERING, SMOLDERING AND SPUTTERING WERE NOT HER STYLE
"Another crack about my weight!
With you, everything is vanity!" she sang in a sweet buzz-saw voice, "But you've lost your marbles.
It's just the pot calling the kettle black!"
She was truly on a rampage, her mind a hive of industry, as if a hundred bulls had been let loose in the china shop.
Image Credit: Image 295 - imageshack.us
Author Credit: Alexandra Lohman, http://www.writersrelief.com/blog/post/Funny-Metaphor-And-Simile-Contest3b-So-Bad2c-Theyre-Good!.aspx
SHORT STORY CONTEST - Write a six-sentence story based on the illustration below.
Image Credit: www.john-howe.com - image 037
NERDS ARE NICE
Recalling his days as a little nipper, Lothario realized that he was different from all the other young shavers in his neighborhood. The first inkling came when he was fourteen years of age when he attended a summer camp for scamps and scallywags in Booger Holler in Arkansas, or maybe it was Bugtussle, Kentucky. Anyway to make a long shaggy dog story short, he preferred to shave his legs and underarms plus trim the hairy orifices of his ears, rather than remove the stubble from his face like the other boys did.
All of which prepared him to be a gormandizing gadabout later in life who simply adored wearing fan belts, figworts, or flank steaks on special occasions such as weddings, funerals, and roasts.
The only dilemma he faced now was what he should wear to the Associated Deities of the Butter Trade Ball ... painting his amazing abdomen a bright blue with orange poka dots and wearing a cow's tail looked like the best option at this point.
Contributed by Hamish McBucksnort, a former caber-tossing, kilt-wearing gentleman farmer from Grizzly Bear's Head & The Lean Man, Saskatchewan (somewhere smack dab in the middle of nowhere anyone's heard of lately).
PATHETIC PIECE OF PROSE PRIZE - There is always one in every crowd who doesn't read the instructions.
Image Credit: Vimrod cartoon by Ralph Lazar and Lisa Swerling - lastlemon.com/4727a
LINK LIST FOR LITTLE LITERATURE-LOVERS
- WHAT CAN YOU SAY IN SIX SENTENCES?
Here's a rather fine website that just goes to prove that keeping stories short and sweet pays off!
- SIX ONE-SENTENCE STORIES
Another versatile writer demonstrates the ingenuity of writing six one-sentence stories.
- SIX-SENTENCES FOR A YOUNGER GENERATION
Who says six sentence stories are just for grown-ups?
- WHAT ABOUT A SIX-SENTENCE PARAGRAPH?
Here's an example of aspiring authors who keep things brief and to the point.
GNOMEBODY LIKES ME ...
Colleagues described him as a loyal little lawnmowing lad whom one could count on to buzz-cut the grass during all kinds of weather be it rain, hail, and sleet not to mention six feet of snow.
Employers described him as a paranoid potty sort of person destined to blossom in someone else's pumpkin patch.
Friends described him as one whose courage was best reflected in his ability to 1) eat tasteless garden worms on a moment's notice, 2) to cry into a pity pot when he could not travel south with his owner during mid-term break, and 3) to survive happily on a rotten hick planet affectionately known as "Bob" (conveniently located on the third level of the parallel universe).
Foes described him as a myopic mud-loving munchkin whose only claim to fame was biting the heads of dandelions and swatting flies with vim and vigor using a table tennis bat.
Of course, all that didn't really matter to him because when he died and went to the Garden of Galoots, the God of Good Stuff promised to let him be reincarnated as an inhospitable weed which thrives on well-manicured greens and drives golfers crazy.
Contributed by Nempnett Thrubwell, a snooty snob from Moose Factory, Ontario (a wonderful place to visit particularly if one enjoys cold comforts be they cold feet, cold shoulders, or cold sweat not to mention cold turkey on special occasions such as Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Canada Day.)
Image Credit: http://images.epilogue.net/users/nbaertsch/GardenGnomeSm.jpg