He crawls out of bed, sneaks a peak at the clock radio sitting on the nightstand by his side. Running his fingers through his stringy roots, he recalls the choice he made the night before. Instead of a lovefest with his woman, he opted to binge watch his addiction, Narcos.
(a six-word story)
Most land turned toxic on Saturday.
Six-word story version:
Cartwright realized he will never sail.
Expanded version — 12-word story:
Land bound, Cartwright accepted his destiny — never to sail the high seas.
The cart that couldn’t.
On the boardwalk with no sail,
Only treads for wear.
Vera loves wearing sandals, enjoying the variety of style from simple flip-flops to high-heeled, open-toe gladiators. One day, as she walks through a spring art exhibit, a big elephant statue fell from its perch onto her big toe. The surprise, the pain, the astonishment. Since then, she’s never been the same.
Every day, she seems to slump more, as if shrinking in stature, until one morning, she barely makes it out of bed. Her whole body is dragging on the floor. Then, out of nowhere a little creature crawls out of her big toe and collapses. Known to its family as Tetra 12, the ant-sized being is ancient and, sadly, its existence is soon ending.
Dee’s abdomen churned all day and seemed to bloat by night. She rested in discomfort. Hours later it was no better. A membranous sac of creepy crawly critters burst out of her belly. Goodbye. No more all-you-can-eat feasts for Dee, observed little Tommy, who had been feeding his favorite mouse.
Trussed up with seconds to go.
The clock strikes five. All the worker bees in Suite 320 suddenly come to life, shutting down their computers, tossing their empty coffee cups. Others lock up their drawers as if afraid somebody might steal their company-issued office supplies.
“Have a nice weekend, Linda.”
Farewells among colleagues are exchanged; they give and accept their goodbyes like eager squirrels storing away their nuts for winter.
Less than five minutes later, the whole office is cleared. Sounds of rolling wheels break the silence as the little man behind a gray trash barrel comes in. As Head Custodian, he rips up all the computers, along with the desks and pitches them into the bottomless barrel. He has determined this last batch of worker bees does not work hard enough. They will not have a place to work when they return on Monday morning. He wheels away to the next floor to decide on the fate of the group in Suite 420.
Don’t stray; stick to my dick.
Dave tickles his toes for pleasure.
Without fail every Wednesday, Drake dons his leather loincloth in the privacy of his home and listens to the vocalizations of his ululating hero, Tarzan. He thumps his chest and runs wild, making believe he is a warrior. He is his true self—uninhibited and unmedicated. Free from the cloudy reality for a day.