Ernest Hemmingway was apocryphally said to have written the following as a response to a challenge from an acquaintance. “For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn.” Whether it’s true or not, we’ve had the six-word story as a style and plaything of the english language ever since. Today’s post is the result of playing with this idea.
Wanted: Man who leaves seat down.
Snow. Shit. Better grab the shovel.
Flowers blossom, trees bloom. Allergy season.
Key turns. Engine revs. Vegas baby!
He should have looked both ways.
The Queen, my Lord, is dead. <— (not actually mine…)
Against reason, I’ve become my mother.
Murdered darlings. Good writing. Bad parenting.
Not technically a story, but a fun picture:
Hyperflorid loquacious verbosity is for chumps.