Write the worst short story you possibly can

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The fairy tale of the little engine


Chapter One
Once upon a time there was a little engine living at a small railroad in a nice rural area. One day the little engine was given the task of transporting some cargo to the village up the hill. When the little engine came to the hill, he thought: "That's a mighty steep hill. I don't think I can get up there."
He was correct.

The end.


Chapter Two
The little engine was scolded by the station master for not delivering the cargo to the village. So off he had to go again.
When he came to the hill he stopped and looked discouraged at its slope. It was so steep! But he knew he had to try.
The little engine had heard of the power of positive thinking, so he thought to himself: "I think I can."
He tried to climb up the hill, but having stooped he lacked the necessary momentum. So the little engine had to go home again with the cargo.


Chapter Three
The little engine was told to go deliver that cargo or he didn't f****** need to come home again.
Once more he came to the steep hill, but this time he didn't stop. He pushed on while repeating the mantra: "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can."
The hill was very steep and the engine was very small. He pulled with all his might and trembled with exhaustion, but try as he may, he wasn't strong enough.
His engine gave out, and he started rolling backwards down the hill. He derailed and crashed into a tree, wrecking himself and the cargo.

The end


Chapter Four
The station master had sent the little engine to Doctor Mechanic, and the good doctor had fixed him. Straightened the dents and given him an engine transplant.
Now the little engine was stronger than ever.
Soon he was on his way towards the hill again with the freight cars trailing after him. With his new strong engine he pushed up the hill with ease. He felt very proud as he came to stop at the station.
But the freight cars were empty. He had forgotten to load the cargo before he left home!


Chapter Five
The station master had had enough and fired the little engine that couldn't.


Chapter Six
The little engine was sent to the scrapheap and he spent a long time sitting there, rusting away, abandoned and unwanted.


Chapter Seven
An aspie happened to pass by the scrapheap and saw the rusty old engine.
"Wow, that's a Railroad Series Tank Engine," he muttered to himself. "What a beauty they were back in the heyday."
The aspie went inside and told the scrapheap man that the locomotive should have been in a technical museum.
The scrapheap man just laughed. "That piece of junk? Tell ya what though... For 40 denyas you can take it off me hands."
The aspie couldn't let the engine sit there neglected so he bought the rusty old locomotive.
When he came home with the little engine his aspie wife felt sorry for the small locomotive. Together they fixed up the machine and made him shine.
They lived happily ever after

until


Chapter Eight
The aspie couple started a technical museum where the little engine was their prime exhibit. They bought many more wonderful machines and the museum had more visitors than it could fit. The locomotive and all the other machines were very happy to be there. Then the museum burned down, killing every single one of the great technical wonders.
What little remained was recycled.

If you ever hear a sad toot from your recycled metal, it's the last call of the little engine that could after all. Don't call an exorcist. Let him sing. He's earned it.
It is said that his toot brings good luck but considering his own bad luck, that's harder to believe than the spirit of the locomotive haunting the metal.
The End

Ode to garlic

Once again it's
Garlic on my mind!
Yes, this I must find,
Else I might go blind
From all the usual crap
That makes me feel inclined
To take a piece of garlic
Raw, pure, and unrefined.
So please don't be unkind
Since you prefer a bacon rind
Relax, let go, unwind!
So what if breath will stink?
Give me all you have to drink
And watch me while I sink
Through seas of ink and pink.
Ah, my mouth now burns like hell,
I think I am unwell.
I am in such agony,
You doubt my sanity
But seriously,
axletree and banditry,
frugality and profanity
are nothing more than
a classic cosmic singularity.
A fantasy of philanthropy!
Thus I speak and rave
As the garlic makes me brave
And helps keep health --- avoid the grave!
Clove after clove I chew
This much I always knew:
If instead I ate a kangaroo
And chased it with some cheese fondue,
You would misconstrue a metal screw.
Cheese fondue, extinguish my pain!
I have so many things to gain!
It's ever been right as rain!
But all the while I hear you sayin',
"You're insane and inhumane;
Better pray to St Germain!
And get you in a hospital train
To heal your superior thyroid vein."
And so I left Spokane...

The worst short story you possibly can

Thanks!

Misadventures of Snouty the cat:

Once upon a time, in a country far and far away from heaven and earth, there was a land called Stinktopia and there lived a cat by the name of Snouty and he was a sniffer by trade. He had always had the feeling growing up that he was a very special cat indeed, so special that nobody else could see his particular kind of specialness.

His day job was sniffing the other animals to see if they stank enough, if not the poor animals would be sent to the gallows, because you see in Stinktopia there was no greater crime than not stinking enough…
Snouty was a properly decent cat by nature according to himself, he did enjoy his job as a sniffer; he had a natural talent for it. But he was terrible conflicted by the fact that other animal’s right to live were depending on his nose. The weight on his conscious was terrible, so in the evenings he drowned his sorrows with a can of Whiskas spiked with vodka.

Poor Snouty’s mind was very occupied by conflicting thoughts, on one hand he loved all his fellow animals, the stinky ones as well as the less smelly ones (although, truth be told his best friend was a skunk by the name of Mr Reeksalot). He dreamed a lot about a world were all animals were alike, were one was judged on the merit of one’s character instead of one’s ability to stink.

One day when Snouty was walking the long way to work he stumbled upon a bottle that lay on the red brick road; naturally he took it up to examine it closer. It was very old bottle, a filthy bottle, but still the bottle fascinated him. Even though he could not imagine why at first, it was just an old worn bottle, seemingly empty. Still, he could not let go of it. Then he realized what it was that had confused him so, there was no smell coming from it, none what so ever. Shocked and horrified he dropped the bottle from his paws and as it rolled away on the red brick road, the cork came loose and slowly a brown mysterious looking mist emerged from the dirty old bottle.

The brown mist was twirling around in the air until it started to take solid form, the form of a fox as it turned out. Snouty was still in shock, he did not know what to do, his instinct told him to run home with his tail between his legs and forget all about this ever happening. Instead he started mjauing in fear, what could he otherwise do, he was but a mere cat . “Do not worry my dear Snouty, I am here as your friend, I wish you no harm,” said the Djin with a soothing voice. “I am Dijonmuztardo the Great Djin and I am here to grant you three wishes”.

Snouty that was at this very moment sitting with his tail neatly folded around him, and washing himself with the vigor of an cat half his years, hoping that the Djin would lose interest in him a go away, was now sadly disappointed. “ahhhh”, he said in a poor sad voice, thinking “why does this kind of stuff happened to me, my o my, as if my life is not hard enough as it is…”

“I know your type very well Mr Willy Djin, don’t take me for a fool of a cat. I know very well that your wishes come with disadvantages bigger than the gain. Let me tell you Mr Willy Djin, I wish for nothing at all”.
“But what if I were to promise you that there is no downside to our wishes” said Dijonmuztardo the great Djin. “Imagine all the glories and wonders you could have, all the good you could do. Are you still not interest my dear Snouty?

Now how could poor Snouty withstand such promises of glories? Snouty started to think about how maybe this was what he had been destined for, this would confirm his he had always known, and that he was a very special cat indeed. So Snouty thought about it for a while and decided against his initial fear and decided to give it a go.

“I wish for an unlimited supply of food”
And the Djin said, abracadabra sim sala bim and a can appered between Snoutys paws, a very special can that never runs out of food.

“I wish for never having to live through puking up another hairball in my life”
And the Djin said, abracadabra sim sala bim, and there were no more hairballs for Snouty

“I wish to live in a world were smells does not determine your worth”
And the Djin said, abracadabra sim sala bim, and here is where it went badly for poor Snouty, as he was transferred in to the stinkless bottle. Since the Djin did not have unlimited power, and being a Djin he had a meanspirited sence of humor.

So that was the end for poor special Snouty the cat, stuck for an eternity in a stinkless bottle, now children learn from this, NEVER EVER trust a djin that comes from a stinkless bottle, everyone knows that the only trustworthy ones come from the stinky ones…

This is it, the worst short story ever.

That was it.

Once, there was a space pilot. She flew all the way across the universe until she reached

The End.

I stepped on a bug. Now said bug is a dead bug.

Dis is a troo storie, it happened yesterday, witch made me thing off theess fread.
So I’d just waked up and I was laing on mine bedd ½ asleep wenn I herd sumfin, sound like sumun wus ringing are dorbel. Denn I waked up sum moar and diddent no if I had dremt it.
WHO WAS DOOR????

No Beginning, no Middle, just The End.

Once upon a time there was a small full stop. Then it grew up to be a big full stop.

Once upon a time, a man wanted to read a story, but forgot the book at home, so the story was never read. The End.