The Longest 55 Words You'll Ever Read

There's quite a few things about The Herald Sun that pisses me off. There's every word Andrew Bolt has ever written for starters. Then there's the guy that does the movie reviews on Saturday - he gives away the entire plot of every film he writes about. Then there's my arch nemesis of the comic world Fred Bassett. Note to Alex Graham: putting an exclamation point at the end of a sentence doesn't make it funny.

But if there's one thing that shits me more than all of the above, it's the 55 word story. Every day in the Herald Sun they publish a story of no more than 55 words that some dickwad has sent in. Without fail, each and every one will give me the shits.

And why is this?

They're all exactly the FUCKING same.

Step 1 - Describe something in elaborate detail for several sentences.
Step 2 - In the last sentence, reveal that what you were describing is actually something else.

What a brilliantly original twist!

Fuck they give me the shits - and I shan't go on any longer without some sterling examples.

The fire was getting closer, the flames were reaching out grabbing at me, dancing around me, laughing at me. "Ha, ha, you can't run." I was stuck. There was no escape. Then it got me. I was engulfed in flames, burning away. I gave up hope. After all, I was only a piece of wood.
J. L. Sandy, Bairnsdale

A piece of wood? Hahahah, that's gold. Man, I totally thought he was describing something else then, didn't you? Phew, that was a close one, cos like I thought maybe a person was on fire, but it was just wood. Hahaha, wood, get it? Cos wood is a normal thing to burn. Hahahahaha.

Hidden behind the grassy knoll, I heard him say, "Take that and that, now move, or you will get more of the same". I heard more thumping and screaming and decided to take a look. I raised my head to see him swing again and again and send the golf ball from the rough onto the fairway.
Kevin Deavine, The Basin

Oh tell me about it Kevin, I don't know how many times I've been on the ninth hole when I've had to have some stern words with my golf ball. 'Take that and that, now move, or you will get more of the same'.
Get fucked. Now.

I am flying high in the sky, the night is very dark and I am nearly at my destination but I cannot see where to land until suddenly I wake up to the light shinning through my bedroom window. What a relief, I have arrived.
C. McDonald, Longforrest

Punctuation, meet C. McDonald. C.McDonald, this is punctuation - I believe the two of you should become more acquainted.
I guess I shouldn't be too harsh on the fella, it must be hard to type when there's light 'shinning' through your bedroom window.

And so morning after morning I've been wading through these things, looking for that diamond in the rough - that all elusive 55 word story that doesn't have a shitty twist at the end.

But finally, I've found one! And surely after all those other shitboxes, this must be a joy to read!

"Mrs McPhee," the doctor steps into the room, "unfortunately your husband has died". The woman beside me announces "I'm Mrs Ronald McPhee". "No," I stammer, "I am".
The realisation is immediate - those business trips had been a front for juggling two wives. We hug, understanding each other's relief.
He is finally gone.
Lucinda Bertram, Aspendale Gardens

I'm sorry Lucinda, I really am - but that is the stupidest fucking thing I have ever read.

Ever.

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