50 Word Stories.

Brevity is the soul of wit, so said the asthmatic public speaker.

London 2012

Looking at Heather now, it's hard to believe that this girl was not born to hurl cats. Having first flung at the tender age of 14, she's now been recruited to the Olympic Animal Flinging team, featherweight class. This year, she's going for gold, her parents must be so proud.


...Or are you just happy to see me?

"Hi dear." said Benedict as he slithered through the doorway.

"Hi honey!" beamed his wife. "How was your day?"

Benedict 'erred' and 'ummed' before settling on a shrug.

"Did you take out that life insurance policy?" he ventured.

He saw her nod, and continued: "Great. Thanks."

Then he shot her.


Usual, please.

Derek entered the salon in his usual manner, which is to say he walked through the door. He asked for 'the usual' and sat down in his usual chair. His appointment finished. He left, and the hairdresser felt guilty. 3 years later, and she still hadn't told Derek he was bald.


You keep using that word.

"Mmm, yeah. Like that, don't ya? You know you do, you filthy little tart. What are you? That's right, a feeble little slip of a girl. Oh, god, fry my omelette!"

Sue paused. Her husband looked uncomfortable, but she was sure she'd mastered this 'dirty talk' thing...