The quality of the 101-word stories is amazing and I like the idea of having to guess who might’ve written what … hmm … maybe we’ll have a competition soon?
He was uncomfortable. Been sat there for hours, no direction anywhere and no good reason for being where he was. And only a small sausage for company. They’d met in an opium dennis and a game of tennis and tea and cakes on the lorna. Now – silence. The small sausage, snoring, suddenly turned and flipped, a deep sense of anxiety rising, he steamed with grease, chasing him, wielding it’s meat in his direction. Out of the cave and into the open, chased by a sausage for miles, until eventually he fell off a Cliff and died of Richard. And sausage wept.
Land of Hope and Glory
