SPLAT. | Microfiction

This week’s silly social stories.

Continue reading “SPLAT. | Microfiction”

Lucky | Microfiction

“What do you want for your birthday, Mum?”

“Oh, nothing! Don’t waste your money on me, pet.”

“I’m a millionaire, Mum. Let me spoil you!”

“I have everything I could ever need.”

“But what about something you want?” Continue reading “Lucky | Microfiction”

Eff… Eff… Effervescent! | Microfiction

All the silly stories from my social media this week.

Fashion, Darling | Microfiction

“I cannot tell you how sick I am of this whole leopard print trend.”

Lenny laughed. “But you’re wearing it, darling!”

“I know, I know. I wish I wasn’t.” Lolly sighed. “Aren’t you tired of seeing it everywhere? Everyone’s wearing it these days. It’s so overdone, and not even done well. Leopard has become the trademark for trashy.” Continue reading “Fashion, Darling | Microfiction”

Fork It, Fork It All | Microfiction

Wee stories from my social media this week.


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The Ultimate Anti-Aging Secret | Microfiction

“You’re never 60!”

“I am.”

Her colleagues stare at her with pure jealousy. She doesn’t look a day over 45.

“What’s your secret?”

“Ah… that would be telling,” she says smugly. Continue reading “The Ultimate Anti-Aging Secret | Microfiction”

Teeny Little Creatures on a Grain of Sand | Microfiction

A roundup of the miniature stories I wrote on Twitter and Instagram this week.

Phalluses of Modern Art | Microfiction

A roundup of the very short, tiny silly stories I wrote on Twitter and Instagram this week.


Continue reading “Phalluses of Modern Art | Microfiction”

Singing for Satan | Microfiction

The pentagram was laid out on the floor, the candles were lit, and the sacrificial frog was ribbiting his last in his cage.

All that was left to do was sing.

She took a deep breath and began to croon, eyes closed in concentration.

The devil appeared in a cloud of red smoke. Continue reading “Singing for Satan | Microfiction”

Nice Pair | Microfiction

“Nice pair,” said the checkout boy.

The customer gasped. “How dare you? That’s completely inappropriate. I came here to shop; I don’t expect to be drooled over by an employee who is at least half my age. Disgusting. I want to speak to your manager immediately. What a rude young man.”

The checkout boy pointed to the produce in her basket. “I meant your fruit. The pear? Looks good. They’ve just come into season, right?”

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