I heard an anecdote this weekend about Hemingway, how he once produced a six-word story on a dare. It went like this: “Baby shoes for sale: never worn.” Here’s another entry in the tragic flash-fiction sweepstakes, except that it’s true:

Airport security worker, removing a bag from the x-ray machine: “Excuse me, sir, there seems to be a bottle of 1995 Cristal in your suitcase.”

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