Tiny Timmy Tweets: Tub Travails
Tiny Timmy loved his bath toys. Except for the whirring one, the hairdryer that Mommy would sometimes toss into the tub. See Timmy splash!
Tiny Timmy hated taking baths. Especially when Mommy held his head underwater to teach him how to count. How much is a gazillion, Timmy?
"Dive, dive!" Tiny Timmy said in the tub, making like a submarine. "You need more ballast," his mom replied. "How about this cinderblock?"
Showing posts with label Tiny Timmy's Tweets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tiny Timmy's Tweets. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Gary Cuba Presents Tiny Timmy's Tweet's: The Beginning
And now, with no further ado, guest blogger Gary Cuba, a good friend of mine, a slush reader, and fellow writer. Heeeeere's Gary!
Dave has been a great e-friend of mine for quite a while, and he once invited me to do a guest blog. I'm not sure what that actually means, but recently, something popped up that may justify me figuring it out.
So what it is, is this: I ran across a tweeter story site recently (specifically, http://tweetthemeat.blogspot.com). And, given that I can no longer find the will or the way to actually write a blasted full-length story myself, I got lost in this strange concept. 140 characters to comprise a tale? Sheesh. I've tried six-sentencers, 100-word drabbles, 50-worder stories. But _140-character_ tweeters?!
Then I got hooked with the notion, once I tried it. It's more compelling than Sudoku. More fun than sex. (Well, given my advanced age and prostrate condition, it _seems_ that way, anyway.)
Me loves it.
And as I began to wend my way more into it, it occurred to me that I got stuck on a particular theme. Sort of a "subgenre" of the tweet horror genre, as it were.
I call it: "Tiny Timmy Tweets." Here are a few to prime the pump:
"Doggy! Cute doggy!" tiny Timmy said gleefully, toddling toward the lumbering, slavering cur. "Didja just eats some whip cream, didja?"
Tiny Timmy looked into the well, its bottom lost in the darkness. "Gosh, it's deep," he said. "It'd be awful to fall into it." I grinned.
Tiny Timmy watched his mom prepare the turkey. She looked down at him and said, "Now, what shall we stuff it with, little man?"
"Timmy, you bad boy," his mom said. "You come here at once!" Tiny Timmy slunk further under his bed. Okay, he shouldn't have eaten the cat.
Well, you get the idea. Any other Tiny Timmy pieces rumbling around in your reptilian brain center? I've got dozens. Don't worry: Tiny Timmy can never _really_ expire!
Dave has been a great e-friend of mine for quite a while, and he once invited me to do a guest blog. I'm not sure what that actually means, but recently, something popped up that may justify me figuring it out.
So what it is, is this: I ran across a tweeter story site recently (specifically, http://tweetthemeat.blogspot.com). And, given that I can no longer find the will or the way to actually write a blasted full-length story myself, I got lost in this strange concept. 140 characters to comprise a tale? Sheesh. I've tried six-sentencers, 100-word drabbles, 50-worder stories. But _140-character_ tweeters?!
Then I got hooked with the notion, once I tried it. It's more compelling than Sudoku. More fun than sex. (Well, given my advanced age and prostrate condition, it _seems_ that way, anyway.)
Me loves it.
And as I began to wend my way more into it, it occurred to me that I got stuck on a particular theme. Sort of a "subgenre" of the tweet horror genre, as it were.
I call it: "Tiny Timmy Tweets." Here are a few to prime the pump:
"Doggy! Cute doggy!" tiny Timmy said gleefully, toddling toward the lumbering, slavering cur. "Didja just eats some whip cream, didja?"
Tiny Timmy looked into the well, its bottom lost in the darkness. "Gosh, it's deep," he said. "It'd be awful to fall into it." I grinned.
Tiny Timmy watched his mom prepare the turkey. She looked down at him and said, "Now, what shall we stuff it with, little man?"
"Timmy, you bad boy," his mom said. "You come here at once!" Tiny Timmy slunk further under his bed. Okay, he shouldn't have eaten the cat.
Well, you get the idea. Any other Tiny Timmy pieces rumbling around in your reptilian brain center? I've got dozens. Don't worry: Tiny Timmy can never _really_ expire!
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