SMS (Short Menagerie of Stories)

My attempt at being ‘Earnest’ Hemingway

Here’s a story in six words.

He said barber. She said saloon.

Obituary: Hunger died of appetite loss.

Tired! Of doing nothing? Yes.

Random reruns. Another sleepless night.

Cynical. Words win the staring duel

Insecurity peeped through his superiority complex.

"How odd, she's a 40-year-old man!"

Slums. Metro mushrooms. Need weeding.


Ok….this is where despicable crazy frog (CF) gatecrashed my poetic overture…

CF: Almost like paper towels. Multi purpose.)

ME: That nite, we consummated a poem.

CF: Coffee. Pee. Permutation. Areas of disagreement.

ME: He didn't stop when he could!

CF: Truism. Nobody stops when they should.

ME: Comprehend me!... If only he would?

CF: Michealangelo was no shallow fart. False.

ME: Upside down, he scratched his face.

CF: "Run Forrest run," my mind said.

ME: He looked. I punctuated his sentence.

CF: While bastard children of decadence smirked

ME: Psycho babble, pseudo drivel became him.

CF: Smartie. Cutie. Pity she is shortsighted.

ME: Baldie: "If only I had hair!"

ME: Hit where it hurts the most.

CF: Where it hurts there is hair

ME: That's worse than a bomb scare!

ME: Syllogisms aren't your cup of tea.

CF: Chicks rule. They also make rules.

CF: Thin crust. Hunger. Deep thrust. Salvation.

ME: Tap a brain? He is insane!