My colleagues over at Canada Writes came up with a super fun twitter challenge yesterday to see just how short a short story can be. Hemingway threw down the gauntlet back in the 20s with this: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” While that’s pretty tough to beat, check out the #canadawrites hashtag for some worthy entries.

As a CBC employee, I may not be eligible for the iPod prize, but I had fun coming up with some short-shorts nonetheless:

– He said his name was Jason, but she entered him as “Douchey Blonde” in her phone so she’d remember not to answer if he called.

– Sitting on the counter in her pjs, she sifted through the grapes, gently picking out the moldy ones to stir into his smoothie.

– “It’s not you, it’s me,” she said, knowing full well it was actually her busty new secretary.

monsieur maurice

Allie and StefA while back, WireTap featured a young vigilante rap artist by the name of Rap Master Maurice. I since have become addicted to his rap service, in which he’ll call someone up at your request and rap at them about how they’ve done you wrong. For instance, my roommate Stef, seen here on the right, can be pretty loud when she comes into our apartment late at night, so she received this earful. [Being the versatile rapper that he is, Maurice also offers friendly raps (for an extra fee), like this one he sent to my friend Allie, seen here on the left]. In any case, I highly recommend his services if you’ve got a bone to pick with someone. It can be quite satisfying.

On a completely unrelated, non-secret-identity-revealed kind of note, a certain Derek Erdman recently interviewed me for his website about the foods I dislike. Answer: Hearts of Palm, aka. “Swamp Cabbage”.