Teeny Tiny Tales #19
"February makes a bridge and March breaks it." -- George Hebert. 2.6.25 through 3.4.25
This is where I present my daily microfiction stories, mostly based on the past week’s prompts from The Fiction Dealer. By posting my humble tales - the good, bad, silly, and indifferent - I hope to inspire others to allow their creativity to come out and play.
Teeny Tiny Tales #1 - Teeny Tiny Tales #2 - Teeny Tiny Tales #3 - Teeny Tiny Tales #4 - Teeny Tiny Tales #5 -Teeny Tiny Tales #6 - Teeny Tiny Tales #7 - Teeny Tiny Tales #8 - Teeny Tiny Tales #9 - Teeny Tiny Tales #10 - Teeny Tiny Tales #11 - Teeny Tiny Tales #12 - Teeny Tiny Tales #13 - Teeny Tiny Tales #14 - Teeny Tiny Tales #15 - Teeny Tiny Tales #16 - Teeny Tiny Tales #17 - Teeny Tiny Tales #18
February 26, 2025
Microdosing - Unlimited mg of a Weasel
Personal prompt
Farmer Jones was walking the edge of his pasture one winter's day, when he saw a snow white weasel running along the top of the stonewall. He'd just raised his ever-present shotgun to aim when a green hand suddenly pushed the barrel towards the ground before he could fire.
Mother Nature ordered, “Do not kill the little weasel, he's done you no harm.”
Farmer Jones scowled. “Aye, but he might,” he growled. “I’d like to see no more of his kind on my farm!”
“Is that so?” Mother Nature frowned. “Fine, then I'll take him and his brethren off with me and then we'll see how you do without them.” With that, she whistled a shrill note, and was answered by the pattering of many tiny white feet. She knelt on the ground, allowing the weasels to cuddle up into her pockets. Standing, she faced the foolish man. “If ever you want them to return, you have but to apologize.”
Farmer Jones sneered, “Why the hell would I want that vermin back??? I say, good riddance!”
He missed her sly grin, as the Good Mother simply nodded her head before fading away.
“Want them back, what silly rot,” Jones continued to grumble. “Mother Nature is a lunatic!”
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The next day, Farmer Jones set out to feed his hens, only to discover that rats had eaten all the grain. They'd even chewed their way into the henhouse and gobbled up all the eggs. The poor hens were fearfully hiding, high up on their roosts. Farmer Jones brought his faithful hound, Jock, down to the barn, and Jock chased the rats out of the henhouse, but the chickens were so terrified that they stopped laying eggs.
The rat began to dash about the goat pen, too, frightening the poor beasts. There would be no milk from them that day.
Farmer Jones went out to the garden to collect some fruit and vegetables to feed his starving livestock, but saw that field mice had eaten up everything that grew on the ground and red squirrels had chewed up everything that grew on the trees and voles had girdled all the berry canes, leaving the plants to die without bearing fruit.
The farmer became so frustrated that he set out rat poison. One young, inexperienced rat sampled it, dying a horribly painful death as his brethren watched. When the other rodents saw what the poison did, they wanted nothing to do with it. Poor Jock decided to eat the dead rat. When Farmer Jones found him writhing on the floor of the henhouse, his heart overflowed with shame and remorse and broke as he cradled his poor, dying dog in his arms. He dropped to his knees and cried, "Mother Nature, I was wrong! I'm ready to apologize to the weasels. Please, I need their help!"
Mother Nature appeared beside him, looking down at the man with pity. Before saying anything, she reached down to touch Jock's nose. Jock stopped whimpering and stood up, licking her hand and then Farmer Jones's face. Farmer Jones looked up at the Green Mother. “Oh, thank you! Now where are those wily rapscallions, I have something to say to them.” One by one, the fuzzy white heads peered out from the Mother's pockets. "Please, little beasties, please accept my apology. You may live on this land in peace,” said Farmer Jones. Each little mouth was pulled back in a grin, exposing rows of tiny needle-sharp teeth.
"I think they forgive you," said Mother Nature, as the weasels all leapt to the ground, scattering in all directions, as they merrily chased the invading rats and mice and squirrels back to the fields and forests they'd come from. Jock looked on, barking happily and wagging his tail.
From that day, Farmer Jones lived in harmony with the wild animals living around his home. The weasels kept the rodent population in check, so there was enough food for all. Farmer Jones never used poison again and he and Jock lived to a happy old age. And the weasels prospered, living in freedom, as all wild creatures should.
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This prompt and story were inspired by a conversation with the author of in the comments section of a story by , “Brother Turtle and the Pemmican.” Nick sealed the deal when he mentioned that the word “weasel" is among his top five favorites. 😁
February 27, 2025
Microdosing - 60 mg of Rot
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"
Your words of love fester, decompose, and crumble away.
And poor joy’s corroded, disintegrated, putrid cankers hold sway.
My sweetness is spoiled, my soul's corroded, truth's corrupted, decayed.
I feel decomposed hatred, my heart's festered and gray.
So you must wander the bogs where the slimy worms play,
For your rotting lies of nightlight dissolve to tainted bilge by day.
February 28, 2025
Microdosing - 100 mg of Imminence
There once was a mighty emperor, who loved riches more than his people. They led desperate, hungry lives, while his coffers overflowed.
A Wise Woman came to plead for his mercy, but the emperor sneered, “I don’t care about them, as long as I have gold.”
“Very well, your Imminence,” the woman began.
“Old wretch, you mean ‘your Eminence!’”
The Wise Woman grinned, as the emperor transformed into a magpie. “I was referring to your imminent change.”
So the greedy former ruler forever after gathered shiny bits of trash for his nest, while his former subjects lived happily ever after.
March 1, 2025
Microdosing - 50 mg of a Mashie Niblick
A poem especially for .
Mashie niblick is a word
That can be obscene or absurd,
Or dangerous or just plain funny.
It's all so strange when life gets punny.
Somewhere twixt mashie and niblick
Lived this hickory number six stick.
But older names are so much fun,
Urging our brains to play and run.
March 2, 2025
Microdosing - 50 mg of a Wish
Prompt from Miguel S.’s book, “Micro Dosing Fiction"
"I hate you, I wish you were dead," cried Jess, burrowing into bed. She slept, dreaming that Mommy died and was gone forever and Daddy cried and cried and... then she awoke and saw Mommy.
"Mommy, I'm happy you're not dead!"
"Me, too, love," her mother smiled, holding Jess close.
March 3, 2025
Microdosing - 70 mg of a Pile
It was overwhelming: Piles of dirty dishes, piles of crumpled clothing, overflowing piles of trash. And now, piles of snow trapped him indoors. Resentment and sorrow piled up in his brain. Something had to break.
When he saw the teenaged boy shoveling a path to his front door, the piled up pain cracked. When the kid popped in to see how else he might help, it broke into merry bits.
March 4, 2025
Microdosing - 60 mg of a Bubble
I always had trouble with speech, so people thought I was stupid. They gave me nicknames like Space Cadet or Bubbles, but I didn’t mind; I figured it was better stategy if they underestimated me. When I got promoted, my former colleagues were astonished. I proudly grinned at the plaque on my door, reading “Bubbles Malone, CEO.” Talkin’ ain’t everything!
I am flattered! And I love that image with all the clubs.
The first one about the weasels is just lovely, and a very important lesson, which everyone should be taught from an early age.
I love your fables!