The White Shoe Irregular:
It was fun while it lasted.

Still More Very Short Stories

The White Shoe Staff

[Redactor's Note: Today is day three of "Very Short Story Week." Hence, we proudly bring you four more of the best stories we received. If you are not familiar with this contest, or if you missed the winners, please go here.]

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Note to Self

Remember to apologize to wife for my inconsiderate remark this morning.

I did not mean to imply she was fat.

Merely meant to indicate that a weight loss program "might be a good idea."

She didn't need to fly off the handle like that, though. Got a little too personal, in my opinion.

I should've known better. She never could take criticism.

Oh well, looks like I'm in the doghouse now.

Could be worse. I could be buried under it!

Like she is.

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Aaron woke to find two men standing over him. One held a tube that led into Aaron's stomach; a substance resembling oatmeal oozed out of the tube, into a bucket.

"What are you doing?" Aaron asked.

"Nightly change-out," the man said. "Recharging your power unit and removing the food you've eaten."

"Wha…why?" Aaron asked.

"So you don't find out you're not human," the man said.


The man placed a cool hand on Aaron's forehead and eased him back onto his pillow. "Just go back to sleep. Everything will be fine in the morning."

So he did. And it was.

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Professor Fenway

Professor Fenway wandered out only between two and four A.M. But being under custody in a Brooklyn precinct station was the ultimate irony for his new criminal behavior.

In the cage with drunks, with no food or water, he had only his cigarettes to console him. He believed the officers were humored by his talking about his swift hearing and trial, which had an obvious outcome.

But the officers talked about families and girlfriends, and who would get real fresh coffee and donuts. A man violating the recent code, dating a woman his own age, was of passing concern.

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Glory Days

He said his name was David Koresh, but that was only to scare the little girls at the park. After he left, we wrote a few letters, had coffee at Christmas, and then I heard he was studying Buddhism at a place just outside Memphis. Sometimes, when I'm restless for rain, I remember riding all the way across the golf course on the back of his bicycle, thinking the moon couldn't possibly be that yellow.

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Read the fourth installment of Very Short Story Week here.