My roommate just reminded me of the legend that Ernest Hemingway was once part of a bet that he couldn’t write a six word story. He came up with “For Sale. Baby shoes. Never worn.” His (roommate’s – not Hemingway’s) college buddy actually wrote an entire New Yorker article in only six words, which was a plum delight to read.

At any rate, this naturally prompted the inevitable gamesmanship and we spent a few minutes trying to one-up each other with six word stories. Here are some of the good ones that emerged:

“Is this pork? Ah, fuck it.”

“She was SIXTEEN? Wow, my bad.”

“Just follow the white rabbit, damnit!!”

“The dot dot dots ruined you.”

Anyway, back to work, loyal readers. (You see what I did there? And again, just then too, right? I see where this is going… Oh no: now I can’t escape! Wait, do contractions count as two??)