Remember when I invited you to send me your own 50-word murder mysteries, better known as Dribbles? Well, I am pleased and honoured to share your contributions today. Check these out and if you weren’t convinced already, you’ll see that a story doesn’t have to be long to be pretty terrific:
The blogger looked at her monitor and muttered, “That snob of an author criticizing my review. I’ll show her.”
She emails blogger friends around the world that it is time to EAT – Eliminate an Author Tonight!
Reviews, messages, reports, texts and emails flood the internet that the author is dead.
‘We found clues to the murder’ said Sgt Daley ‘but we’re still looking. I need a smoke. Could you please…?’
Raikes proffered him a cigarette and matchbook,
“There was a matchbook match . This sort of cigarette was there. Oh, the strangler was a left-hander, like you. Care to talk?”
The Suburban rolled off the dark street and coasted to a stop in front of her garage.
“I’ll take the keys now,” she said.
“Do you think they’ll find him?”
“You worry too much,” she whispered. “Now be a good boy and swallow this. It’ll put you right to sleep.”
“Pull over. This is where it happened.”
The car door clicked behind her. She edged closer to the cliff. A warm updraft whipped her skirt.
“He never would have killed himself, so how did it happen?”
“Just like this,” he sneered, the sole of his boot firmly in her back.
And as an Extra Plus…. Some 100-Word Stories – Drabbles…
From Prashant Trikannad
Poirot and Holmes in the Graveyard
Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes stood in the graveyard, spades in their hands and a dead body at their feet.
“Where do you think we should start?” Holmes looked around.
“With the little grey cells, always the little grey cells, mon ami,” Poirot smiled.
“Yes, yes, the grey cells, I know,” Holmes said impatiently. “But where do we start?”
“Digging the grave.”
“The grave?” For a moment Poirot looked blank. “Of course, the grave!”
“We’d better bury the body fast before they get here.”
“Before who gets here?” Poirot looked up.
“Watson and Hastings—they’re on to us!”
Poirot and Holmes in the Oval Office
Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes sat facing President Obama in the Oval Office.
“At last, I have two of the world’s greatest detectives in the FBI,” the President grinned.
“What do you mean two? There’s only one of us,” said Poirot, his moustache bristling.
“Now look here, Poirot, there’s no reason to get personal,” Holmes said curtly.
“You don’t agree I’m the greatest detective, Holmes?” Poirot said.
“I certainly do not!” Holmes fumed.
“In that case we’ll let the President of the United States decide.”
President Obama looked from one to the other and said, “I think you’re both nuts!”
Poirot and Holmes in a Supermarket
Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes meet at a supermarket in London, each carrying a bag of groceries.
“Poirot,” Holmes tips his hat.
“Holmes,” Poirot touches his moustache and bows.
“How is Gertrude?” Holmes asks.
“Fine, thank you. And your Philomena?”
“She’s good, thank you, Poirot.”
What’re you making today, Holmes?
“Eggplant parmesan. And you?”
“Butter chicken. The wife loves it.”
“You know what I miss, Poirot?
“Yeah, me too,” Poirot sighs.
“Do you think we ought to tell our wives?”
“You think they’ll quit their jobs with Scotland Yard?”
“I guess not,” Holmes sighs.
Aren’t these great?! My sincere thanks to all of you who contributed. These are some fine, fine stories.
Now, please, visit these bloggers. G’wan, show ‘em some love. Tell ‘em Margot sent you.
Happy Weekend, All!!
*NOTE: The title of this post is a line from Neil Young’s Razor Love.