Category: Prose

Once upon a time there was a big bad wolf who liked to eat and a lad who liked to cry “Wolf! Wolf!” even when big bad wasn’t hungry. The wolf got barbequed and the lad – whom, it turned out, wasn’t eaten – went off to make his fortune somewhere where people listened to him when he cried wolf.

After many, many years our dear lad heard about a town with a weird statue and realized that this was his home town and after hearing the truly tall tales the tourists were told figured that statue must be a statue of him.

He went on a march back home to see the statue and ran into many of the lassies who still hadn’t washed those spots where they insisted, despite his faulty memory, that he kissed them long, long ago. These lassies, who now ran the town, set the lad up in a prosperous business of freely kissing any lassie – tourist or local – for only $10 per decent peck on the cheek.

After that who wouldn’t want to live happily ever after?

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Denise offers “march” as the prompt for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Once upon a time the leaders of the town where the lad used to live decided to conduct a series of investigations to find out precisely what happened to the lad in all its gory details. However, no one actually saw the lad get eaten by the big bad wolf in spite of the tall tales offered to tourists.

One investigation centered on the lassies who said they were kissed by the lad and had vowed never ever to wash that spot again. These lassies were highly popular with the tourists.

The town leaders commissioned the most renowned scientist they could afford to construct from those unwashed spots where the lad kissed these gorgeous lassies his full DNA sequence that they planned to display in their newly opened museum. In spite of there being hundreds of distinct Y-chromosomes on those unwashed spots our brilliant scientist was able to swing a home run by miraculously producing with the help of a random number generator the commissioned DNA sequence that allowed him to live happily ever after.

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Denise offers “swing” as the prompt word for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Once upon a time there was an ever-growing clan of pigeons who found the statue of the lad and the big bad wolf as attractive as the photographers who featured photos of it everywhere. It was a beautiful bronze color, that is, it was until the pigeons did what they normally do when they float over your head and take aim.

Over the years people thought the spots turned the statue into a magical masterpiece that the town council – to save funds – cheerfully agreed to leave uncleaned. Eventually all that the tourists who came looking for the statue could find was a huge whitish gray, compost wannabe pile that the pigeons kept contributing to.

Thankfully most tourists thought the artistic touch added by the pigeons was even more impressive than the original statue which was no longer visible. By doing nothing the town found itself living happily ever after.

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Denise offers “float” as the prompt word for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Once upon a time, after the lad-wolf incident, Save The Wolf Foundation got a few votes too many in a low turnout election (except for all the dead people who miraculously voted) for seats on the town council. As the new majority they immediately demanded that a statue be set up to honor the big bad wolf who was brutally, but deliciously, barbequed.

This plan didn’t fly well with the majority of the (living) town folk – like maybe 100% of them – who now regretted not voting because they figured no one in his right mind would vote for Save The Wolf (as indeed no one in his right mind did). Threatened to be ousted in the next election – which would be watched like a hawk – Save The Wolf compromised enough to permit the town council to commission a statue of the lad with the big bad wolf chewing his leg.

After the statue was erected the town became a notorious tourist attraction drawing visitors from far and wide who wanted to see the statue that no one in his right mind would have erected. Anyone who could find a way to profit from this unexpected popularity by delaying the tourists’ stay with some lucrative lad-wolf amusement lived happily ever after.

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Denise offers “fly” as the prompt word for this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

Once upon a time there was a big bad wolf who liked to eat. Big bad ate this and big bad ate that. Once big bad ate a lad who cried “Wolf! Wolf!” even when big bad was minding its own business.

Eventually, like always, big bad got hungry again and wondered what might be on the menu besides the garbage he’s been eating on the ground.

It’s surprising, but true, that ordinary town folk do smarten up given enough time and motivation and this time when big bad returned they decided to give it a taste of its own medicine by trapping it and – gulp – eating it in spite of protests organized by Save The Wolf Foundation.

When the town folk did as they planned to do and big bad got his just deserts, they all lived happily ever after except for the protestors who would have been unhappy no matter what happened, but that’s another tale I probably won’t bother to tell, although I just might.

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Denise offers “ground” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.

In case anyone is wondering, as I was, there is no actual Save The Wolf Foundation. I searched for one and AI told me to stop wasting my time: The search results do not contain specific information about an organization named “Save The Wolf Foundation”.

Once upon a time there was a lad who noticed how highly the town folk honored those who warned the town of the big bad wolf. Wanting some of that honor for himself, he cried, “Wolf! Wolf!”, even though there was no wolf to be seen.

He did get the desired attention and admiration and so the next day and the next and the next, he did it again and again and again. After the tenth day of this even gullible folk could read the mark on the lad’s forehead saying, Don’t believe anything this kid has to say.

One day the real big bad wolf reappeared and the lad cried, “Wolf! Wolf!” None of the town folk came to chase the wolf away, figuring it was imaginary, and everyone, except for the lad who became the main course of the wolf’s dinner, lived happily ever after – that is, until the wolf got hungry again, but that’s another tale.

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Denise offers the prompt word “mark” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories.