Thursday, 7 October 2010

Sixty-Word Thursday

Yes.  It is sixty-word story Thursday.  Hurrah.  And here is today's piece of pleasantness.
Hope you enjoy.

At seventeen minutes past six yesterday evening, in the saloon bar of The Three Ferrets, Canning Town, Mr Leonard P. Ironmonger spontaneously combusted.

Leaving nothing behind but the stumps of his smouldering feet, a lengthy criminal record and a vast collection of specialist pornographic material, wife, Gladys Ironmonger, was left to mourn the tragic waste of a smart pair of shoes.


  1. Wondeful. I used to work in Canning Town so nothing would suprise me ...

  2. Cheers, mate. Used to go to Canning Town/Custom House as a kid to see me dad's relatives. Left a lasting impression . . .

  3. Terrific stuff Ian, I enjoyed that a lot.


  4. Cheers, Alan. Bit of fun, eh. Don't know why, but a lot of my short stories tend to be quite deep and a little lacking in humour. Nature of the beast, perhaps. So it's nice to have something a bit more light-hearted on the site - even if it is a self-combusting ne're-do-well.

  5. Whole new meaning to "burn out case." Great way to start Thursday morning. Thanks, mate.

  6. Cheers AJ. Glad you liked it, mate. Got about another dozen or so of these short ones, so one a week does me till after Christmas, at least. I've found them really useful as sort of outlines for proper short stories. Two or three I've extended into shorts that've ended up getting published, so it was a useful exercise.