55 FICTION, ANYONE?

Steve Moss, editor of The World's Shortest Stories (Running Press, 1998) calls it 55 fiction - the "fanciful and murderous, speculative and absurd" breed of the short story - that is so short it contains just a paragraph, or strictly, a 55 word paragraph, max.

Even Scheherazade, at this day and age, is on the run and has time for only 55 words to extend life (of this blog?) for one more day, which is fine, considering man's inclination for anything instant, plus the fact that (this blog?) seems to be existing one day too many.

Submitting to the form, I'll cut the intro short so we can go and zoom!, play with flash fiction, let us be on a roll like stones and impress, for in this world of exceptions, who knows, us rolling stones may gather Steve Moss.

 
Not A Duck, Not A Lameduck  

The cops set their eyes on this obviously drunk coming off the bar.  They do not care about the others; this impending DUI guy fills the quota.  When he reaches his car, they pound in.  "You're drunk and didn't ask for a lift, what are you?", they ask.  He smiles.  "Nothing, sirs, just a decoy." 

Lovers' Quarrel, For Once

They had bad food, she was pissed, he was clammed up, she was pissed even more, he was glum but did not say a word, so she screamed,  "Why do you always shit on me with your silence, why can't you shit on yourself for once?!!!"  He spoke, for once, while she's feudin, "I did, for once."