I am told, by reliable sources that Ernest Hemmingway once said his greatest work of all was this story: For sale: baby shoes, never used. It is a good story, with a plot clearly laid out, only waiting for the details the reader must provide.
It turns out that there is a veritable panoply of works which have been inspired by that one, all of them having only six words. On the radio today I heard about a contest for six-word love stories in honor of Valentines Day. That salmon spawned in my mind as I carried on about my duties, and I came up with these.
Infatuation! We’ll have you shot later.
He left for cigarettes. Without us.
Expert witness: more room in bed.
Blistering, shivering, withering. Poetry, laundry, gin.
Boy meets girl; detectives are retained.
Dyslexic meets girl; untied in marriage.
Delusional psychopath meets girl; gang awry.
My eyes adored you, mirror mine.
Will trade waterbed, sheets, for rifle.
Never before, never again, once more.
Hold my discontent, elusive as sky.
Six word story, ward six history.
Men are Chihuahuas, neutered too late.
Skinny dipping surreptitiously, they introduced themselves.
They survived the night, spooning warily.
Life’s too rough, don’t you think?
Honesty, humility and good peripheral vision.