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*Very/Very Short Stories please

following on from pissing threads on general

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She desperately needed to piss. That burning feeling, nearing the back door, almost there, slightly letting go, dampening cotton panties, glad that she’s wearing tights… chucking handbag contents on the patio, lipstick, purse, pens, where the fuck are they… Jesus fucking Christ … keys! Inside, safe, release, warmth, wetness.
 
I'm hoping that anyone who's ever been a schoolgirl will get that one - you think you can make it home, you do a four-mile bus journey, you're holding it in and doing just fine, then as soon as you get anywhere near the back door it starts to burn, you think you can't hold it, you get in the door, breathe a sigh of relief, and then piss your pants on the way up the stairs. :o

ohhhh, shit, that's going to be just me, isn't it
 
OMG Lollybelle you are too funny with the peeing (and VERY good with the writing)!

I'd love to have a go at this but I have to go pack for my trip to London at silly o'clock in the morning (before I go out socialising tonight).

Reading this thread reminds me of a little book I bought called 'Writers Block'. It's actually a block shape... couple of hundred pages with things to get you writing. Single words, photos, story ideas, facts about famous writers. Pretty entertaining, although I haven't ever got round to doing any of the writing exercises. Maybe I'll write something on the plane at 5.00am tomorrow.

MoKa
 
I love you.

This did win a best short story contest a few years ago. My bitter-twisted attempt, without the ocean hope and really not worth a mention (so sorry):

I hate you.
 
'Would you like me to sign this personally to ya honey?' the movie star beamed over the piece of paper. She smacked him in the face and crumpled the paternity suit letter from her lawyer into his hands.
 
quiet day at work, Lollybelle?

Wider than a mile

Crossing in style, someday… she pictured herself as Audrey Hepburn, sat elegantly in her chair, and smiled coquettishly as she leaned over to ask the stranger for a cigarette… later, Chelsea Bridge, black cab, the moonlight catching her hair, he adored her silently – no names, this night, the rainbow’s end.
 
Nope - seeing if I can challenge myself by taking lines from songs out of context... that one's from Tori Amos, the one above's obvious. Clearly, I'm getting paid too much for doing way too little in the office.
 
in the morning, she held him close and kissed him hard and he could taste himself on her.

in the evening, he found a note, the usual series of cliches and half-truths. the 'it's not you, it's me's.

he just wished he'd remember to put it in her pocket before she left.
 
I am a pez

"I am a Pez," said the old man caustically. "Why won't any of you fuckers believe me?"
Not a sweety, but a fish.
 
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