tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35301002011-07-14T17:44:13.233-07:00A collection of very short stories - each containing only 55 words. All submissions are welcome and encouraged. Every story posted is property of the named author.<br> <br> Thanks to <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0762403004/qid=1022250690/sr=8-1/ref=sr_8_1/104-4816040-7615145">Steve Moss</a> and the writers of the 55 for inspiring this blog.Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03799274281619572092noreply@blogger.comBlogger31100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3530100.post-770621132002-05-28T06:40:00.000-07:002002-05-28T06:40:05.060-07:00They talked loudly, giving justifications meant for her. <br />"Doesn't mean we feel that way," said one. <br />"You can joke about anything with friends," said another. <br />They talked until the feeling of her rebuke had washed away. <br />In the corner, she stared at her chosen friends with grim disbelief. <br /><i>She</i> could not justify their racists jokes. <br /> <br /><a href="http://sallamander.blogspot.com">salamander</a> <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3530100-77062113?l=i55.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03799274281619572092noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3530100.post-769227382002-05-24T06:41:00.000-07:002002-05-24T07:22:50.000-07:00The mutt we had only had for forty forevers <br />jumped up and grabbed grandma's lap, running <br />away with it under the house. Us kids <br />were heartbroken and lay on our <br />stomachs looking into the cool dark under <br />the house and offering up raw hamburger while <br />upstairs we could hear grandma yelling <br />goddamn that filthy mongrel <br /> <br />p.s.v. <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3530100-76922738?l=i55.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03799274281619572092noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3530100.post-768389692002-05-22T06:25:00.000-07:002002-05-24T07:29:55.000-07:00She walked confidently into the conference room and sat at the glass table. Steely Dan murmured in the background. <br /> <br />He tossed his curly hair and stroked his graying goatee. <br /> <br />“You need to improve…” <br /> <br />flip <br /> <br />“You let your personal life interfere…” <br /> <br />flip <br /> <br />“Six percent increase is more than fair…” <br /> <br />flip <br /> <br />That night she dreamt of scissors. <br /> <br /><a href="http://www.punchybutt.blogspot.com">Ann O'Maly</a> <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3530100-76838969?l=i55.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Annhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03799274281619572092noreply@blogger.com