Category: Two Sentence Stories

I feel sometimes I’m playing the role of my younger self.
He’s funnier, better-looking and way more interesting.

Oh dear you seem to be breaking up.
Time to patch the clay girl.

Franco and Big Mountain Man, alcoholic German puppets, and their dog Schnapps sit around and discuss yet another 1940s cabinet maker.
After that, there’s some sport or something.

Sorry about the hurting, yeah?
I was bored and you were there and what else do you want?

I love seeing the moon in the sky during the day.
It reminds me the world is not alone.

Hey French girl!
Never mind.

I had this big plan involving my “shit” and “getting it together”.
All the plans involving girls screwed that right up.

We stood hand in hand.
Jump, she whispered.

The game we played was called “advance and retreat” and she was a master.
Was it a date or not?

I’m not trying to sell you anything she said.
I listened, later kissed her, and in the end, bought.

Yes, I totally want to date you!
I look forwards to being your baggage.

When I said I had just been drifting without purpose or direction for like twelve years, it wasn’t a metaphor.
I fell out of my spaceship.

Is it possible that after death we awake, centuries later, recreated by our infinity-times grandchildren, brought back to life and fitted back into society, immortal and everlasting?
Is it possible that Heaven is just awakening in the future?

You can pretty much divide life into two parts.
Pre-getting fucked and post.