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Flash fiction is an umbrella term used to describe any fictional work of extreme brevity, including the Six-Word Story, 140-character stories, also known as twitterature, the dribble (50 words), the drabble (100 words), and sudden fiction (750 words)

“Darling, I am home!”

“You are early today.”

“Yup. The boss had other places to rush off to, so us minions could get away sooner.”

“Sneak away, you mean. Haha…. Freshen up, while I lay the table.”

“What’s that horrible smell?”

“What horrible smell? I made all your facorite things today. Can’t you smell the rasam?”

“No, no. I mean, yes I can smell the rasam. But there is another smell in this room, as if … Hey, you haven’t burnt the lunch, have you?”

“Of course, not! Rice, rasam and your favorite vegetable, okra stir-fried in coconut oil. All perfectly done.”

“Ahhh… divine! But, are you sure you haven’t burnt the okra. Haha… like you used to, you know.”

“Says someone who can’t cook to save his life!”

“Oh darling, I was just teasing you about that…”

“Well, don’t then. First learn to cook something yourself. ”

“Why should I? You are the woman, you should cook for me, the man!”


“What? Stop staring. Whatever little hair I have will catch fire.”

“I am not doing the cooking because I am a woman, or because I am your wife. I love cooking, that’s all… and I am doing it for myself too.”

“Oh come on, honey. Don’t come all the feminist over me now. I was pulling your leg. Gotcha there…”


“What? What did I say wrong now? Mmmm….. this rasam is out of this world!”

“I am not coming all the feminist over you, as you said.”

“You did too, just then”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did”



“You know nothing, John Snow. I AM a feminist!”


“And you better be one too or else I am filing for divorce.”

“Hey! Can’t a guy joke around here? Anyway, let me clear the dishes and….”

“What? Noooooo!”

“Can’t a guy do some work in his own house without his wife blocking him from entering the kitchen?”

“Get lost now. Go and watch television or read the paper or something.”

“No! No. No. NO! I demand to be allowed to work. It is my house too.”

“Get out of the kitchen!”

“I won’t… Let me at least put the waste in the dustbin. Move aside woman!”


“This is mysterious. What HAS come over you? Stop shoving me!”

“Get out of my kitchen!”

“I’ll never understand women, I tell you. My kitchen, is it now?”

“No, I meant ‘get out of the kitchen'”

“Ugh! What’s that smell? Did you burn something in the dustbin? Omg, you did, I can see by your face. Is that why you are trying to push me out of the kitchen? Hahahaha.”

“I was trying a new dish and… then I started reading, and oh, never mind!”

“But this is good news!”

“It is?”

“Excellent news, in fact. As an amateur, I can burn a few dishes too when I start cooking, and not expect to have my ears boxed, right teacher?”

“You know nothing, John Snow!”

“In that case, I’ll wear a helmet.”

©Shail Mohan 2017