Sanford & Son Haiku

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

Lamont backs the truck

Into the side of the house.

This is the big one!

 

The name is Fred G

Sanford and I’ll tell you the

G stands for gusto.

 

Rollo is a pimp

Grady can see the future

Bubba plays Scrabble

 

Let me count the ways.

It’s fifteen, you big dummy.

Now get off the couch.

 

Lola Falana

The Most Talented Woman

On Television.

A Coffee Shop In New Hampshire

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

One time, I was in a coffee shop. I was there for a few hours, so, people, maybe I was getting too comfortable. A guy sits down next to me and asks, “You know what Hitler’s problem was?”

Scott Of The Antarctic

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

The penguin showed up at McMurdo Station, probably attracted to the rhythmic of Soul Night – our weekly dance party. He snuck in through the pet door we installed, perhaps unwisely, on our part. The penguin roamed around the building for several days. We tried to scoot him out with a push broom, but he was tenacious and clever. Eventually, he started leaving food for us, in the form of fish and candy bars. The penguin attended our Soul Parties and became adept at The Push & The Pull. His favorite song was “Summertime” by Billy Stewart. Great taste, the penguin. The penguin started helping out with the sonor experiments, which was odd because we didn’t think he had any ears. Ah well…

Involved

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

“What’s the best part of being a police officer?” asked the young boy.

“I get to arrest pudding,” answered the man in the blue coat.

“You’re not a real police officer, are you?” asked the boy, after a pause.

“No,” answered the man after a longer pause.

The young boy produced a chicken leg from his cloak. He waved around, and it’s skin shook.

“You shouldn’t do stuff like that!”

“I am immortal,” said the man quietly.

“Still, that’s gonna get you in trouble,” the young boy scolded.

Years later, the young boy would discover that the man in the blue coat was attacked by the same hawk that had previously attacked blues great Hound Dog Taylor.

Paul Hornung

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

“Do you remember your father?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“What do you remember most about him?”

“Paul Hornung.”

“What?”

“All he ever talked about was Paul Hornung. I have no idea what my father’s birthday was, but I know Paul Hornung scored five touchdowns against The Colts on December 12, 1965.”

Parole

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

“What was the worst part of prison?”

“Going to the bathroom. Those letters you sent were excruciating, too.”

“…”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“I’m going to call your parole officer and tell him you’ve following the neighbors around.”

“Ah shit.”

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney and it’s getting quite upset

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney. So remind me; don’t forget.

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney. It’s possibly annoyed.

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney. That’s something to avoid.

So get my holy water.

And my biggest bristle broom.

I’m going to knock that Crowley across the living room.

So don’t piss inside the toolshed.

Do not overload the truck.

Insist on counting backwards while walking thru the muck.

When…

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney, your choices tend to fade

like steam beneath the handlebars

like punctured cans of RAID

like Vietcong in tunnels

like veterans on parade

There’s A Crowley In The Chimney, and the children are afraid