Four out of my five Fridays are relatively chill work-wise, as I wind down the weekly assignments, tie up loose ends on the revision front, and drift through any sort of obligatory meeting that I have nothing to contribute to and wonder why I was even on the invite. The other kind of Friday involves account managers blowing up three projects at the last minute with the expectation that the creative team will drop whatever we’re doing and deliver eight hours’ worth of edits in about 40 minutes. These all-around sputtering issues are something I consider every day as I approach my seventh year of working at an advertising/PR agency, with an eye on which can be fixed and which are actual no-joke symptoms of an inherently busted business model.
As I scramble to figure out what my client’s major malfunction is, I try to devise ways to leverage therapy-speak to justify barging into a conference room and flailing my limbs with great force into the faces of glorified corporate bureaucrats respectable executives who are undeniable business geniuses. Instead, I have channeled this semi-homicidal rage into a weekly six-word story segment.
The perversity of responses never failed to delight, which forces me to consider what kind of readership and audience I attract. Many of you are deranged and disturbed, and I love you for it.
In the new year, we will continue to explore the contours of our internal depravities and how we can distill these impulses into acceptably pithy internet kibble. Thank you to everyone who participated in this madness, and this round-up is to celebrate the imagination and humor of some of my favorite writers on this platform.
See you on the first Friday of 2024.
My Six-Word Stories
“Never again!” Sigh. “OK, once more.”
Bourbon? Scotch? I’ll take both, please.
Jenna was fired. The cannon worked.
I died. Or so I thought.
Alarm rang. She woke up. Snoozed.
Cannibal chef ruins dinner. No wine.
My penis is burning. Call fireman.
Millions gathered protesting death. God laughs.
I needed him, he needed heroin.
Colonel Mustard, in parlor, with candlestick.
Never take a bathroom for granted.
Waldo was Carmen Sandiego all along.
He smiled hello. She sighed goodbye.
My mother cried, my father drank.
Fucking a beehive was a mistake.
Santa laughed as the orphanage burned.
Last human alive heard a knock.
I started coughing. The bodybag twitched.
Time since June has been vaporized.
“You were in the control group.”
“...are we still the good guys?”
Cave paintings of mushroom clouds appeared.
“2pm,” Noah lied to the unicorns.
A robot gets charged with battery.
“Beat Procrastination!” added to “Watch Later.”
“Boxers or briefs?” she asked. “Depends.”
“I hate kids.”—Slightly older kid
“How is North Korea?” “Can’t complain.”
“Mr. President, the shareholders are waiting.”
“There’s only one parachute... I’m sorry.”
Don’t worry, I can text while…
My Favorite Comments of 2023
- “Poop amount sufficient,” he intoned sagely.
- “Funny how impossible eventually becomes mundane.”
- Taylor’s her name, Mojitos’ her game...
- The royal taster’s career was over.
- Heart stopped. Lights. Me, a ghost?
- They were breeding rabbits. And contempt.
- I wasn’t. Then suddenly, I was.
- He does this every Friday morning.
- They regretted getting everything they wanted.
- Sadness; his chair now empty forever
- Imprisoned by Lies—Freed by Truth
- It’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Apparently.
- No matter what? No matter what.
- Taco Bell late dinner. Sorry toilet.
- He was terrified. Cut which wire?
- Salesman lied. Trunk’s small. Two bodies.
- Triple espresso. Life on the roof.
- Can I be the last one?
- She died knowing her killer.
- Disconnected rotary phone. Won’t stop ringing.
- “I could’ve declassified, but now can’t.”
- Death came with wine and advice.
- His piano crashed from the balcony…
- Their flight was a life event.
- I’m too sexy for my shirt.
- The smell. The stain. The shame.
- The fridge (and marriage) were broken.
- She shouldn’t have trusted that lifecoach.
- Time is a barreling freight train.
- He found his testicles dyed blue.
- Tropical fuck storm, turn it up.
- HOAs should die painfully and suddenly.
Schrödinger? Wrong. The cats told me.
- Replacement theorist accidentally sparks white genocide.
- He woke. The bear was there.
- From rhubarb to peach to pumpkin.
- It was his last drive. Maybe.
- Pumpkin spice lattes increased divorce rates.
- Keeping it real went really wrong.
Telling us: this all happened before.
- Here comes Mariah in endless loop.
Oh wow. I made it into your best comments of 2023!
Totally honoured!
Have a great 2024!
These are a blast -- legit the highlight of Notes for me this past year.
And everyone's responses are fantastic. There are seeds of short stories and novels all throughout this post.
Well done, Sam!