Microstories

Help find the cure

Microstories

A collection of very, very short stories

by Rick Walton

It was October and once again trees wondered why crowds and cars came to watch them grow old and die.

Two frogs sat up on a tree stump dreaming that they were eagles, until two eagles saw the frogs, swooped from the sky, and made the frogs' dreams come true.

Pigs and fish, when looked at in total darkness, look almost exactly alike.

Reynolds Archer, who for forty-one years had stomped peaches for Mississippi Wine Coolers, was not prepared for his new assignment-- pineapples.

Robert was awakened early that morning by the all too familiar sound of his oak tree stomping on his rose bushes.

Six days after Maggie left for Pittsburgh a letter came for her roommate, which, upon being opened, was found to contain the normal bodily organs one might expect to find in a roommate.

The May moon could hold itself no longer and fell, crashing through the private boarding-house of Mrs. Murphy.

The conversation drifted smoothly and pleasantly along from elephant impressionism to liver-flavored toothpaste, from liver- flavored toothpaste to mime morphology, from mime morphology to cornflakes, from cornflakes to effective methods of smothering fish; then took a random jump, and landed on Mrs. Mumphrey's lap, from which it was brusquely brushed onto the floor.

When four hundred decapitated bodies were found marching on the Boston Commons, the Headless Horseman knew that he would once again be on the trail of the Mad Guillotine of Chaillot.

When Albert Einstein awoke and found he was a cabbage, he knew he had made an error somewhere in his calculations.

The traffic on the freeway was backed up for six miles as a result of a flock of alligators who were slowly migrating north.

Just before dawn the pizzas invaded the earth. Within thirty minutes or less all human life had smothered in tomato sauce and mozzarellaed to death.

Everywhere I went there were eights, large river eights, small glass eights, eights of many colors, even when I closed my eyes all I could see were eights. I screamed to the sky, "Eights, let me be!" But they just laughed.

Wednesday was a good day for Jeff. His boss gave him a new towel. His stockbroker gave him a new pair of socks.

No Christmas bulbs could compare with the ones that periodically fell from Stacy's nose.