Tiny Tales

“No more Mister Nice Guy!” Casper the ghost yelled an inaudible battle cry at the bottom of his lungs, before sliding respectfully into Tom’s iPhone, ready to wreak a slight inconvenience.

He would make a name for himself as almost a problem, a near-infamous confusion spoken of for generations, a tale maybe told by parents to their children, and by them by chance to their children, and probably by their children to their children again, of course these things are hard to tell in advance and children’s attention spans aren’t what they used to be anymore but he supposes there’s nothing you can do about that, but Casper was pretty sure.

He opened the weather app and looked at the knobs he would turn if an iPhone had knobs. “Ha ha ha”, he laughed warmly like an off-duty villain at a neighborhood barbecue, before boldly spelling doom by cranking the temperature from 80 to 79.

An intentionally “bad” piece of flash fiction, similar to the now-defunct Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest.