S I X    S I X - W O R D    S T O R I E S
or, the importance of being Ernest

Reading an article in Wired, I was reminded of the old Hemingway story, about how he once wrote a six-word short story, and declared it to be his best work. The story goes like this:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

It's delicious. So direct, so vague. You and I will never top it, and that's why he's Chevy Chase and we're not, but isn't it fun to try? Here are six of my attempts. I hope you enjoy them. I tried to go the multiple-meanings route with most of them, and I honestly can't decide if this resulted in compelling story fragments or just silly exercises. I'll leave it to you.

Tales of dead, widely read. Plagiarized.

No foresight: Not boredom, but debt.

Temptress tied his hands. An epiphany.

A vagina: One wanted, none grasped.

Breathlessly buried bear bones. Never recovered.

One child disappointed. Too late now.