More Short Stories!


10> You have a reserved parking space with your name on it — at traffic court.

9> You spend an inordinate amount of time scraping hair and bone out of your front grille.

8> You get more unwanted tickets than friends and family of the Detroit Tigers.

7> After less than 10 minutes in your car, Saddam and his sons change their minds and now “feel like walking to Jordan.”

6> Your family already has a roadside cross ready to mark the inevitable spot.

5> Earl Scheib just named his new 160-foot yacht after you.


Okay, here is a short story I had to write for my Language Arts class. Enjoy:

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

Slowly, I was pulled out of my shock by Lizzie.

“Lenny, let’s go!”

“Lenny, if we’re going to do this, we. Have. To. Do. It. Now.”

“I thought you wouldn’t chicken out! That’s why I chose you, Lenny, and not one of the other five girls I was considering!” It was Amy now. She was the one who picked the team for this… this…

Say it already! This mission.

Amy had heard about this arts school near Seattle that was able to give kids as young as eight full GED’s, among other sorts of diplomas. She thought it didn’t make sense, as it was supposed to be a school that emphasized the arts, so she sent Lizzie, our techie, to check it out. Right after the school year had ended, she came up with evidence of government funding. CIA funding.

After many discussions, Amy decided that she had to get in there, so she picked the four of us to help her. We spent all summer coming up with a plan to break into the Lu’age International Bank. A plan which was actually in effect right now. And if we didn’t move right now, our entire plan would be useless because Lizzie had been working for the past hour to shut down their cameras. If the cameras were active, we wouldn’t stand a chance at all — the security is insane, like jumping-off-a-cliff-without-a-harness insane. We each earned our own room in the psych ward of our choice if we continue.

But how could I not? If this worked, and we could get away from Burlington…

Pulling on my own black ski mask, I turned toward my partners-in-about-to-happen-crime.

“Let’s do this. I’m ready.”

Am I?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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Sincerely, Lemons


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