Betty the Yeti's spaghetti's not ready. You bet she'd be petty, set on a settee pondering tearing the room to confetti. Her host, ever sweaty, produced amaretti. "Get me spaghetti!" barked Betty the Yeti. Yet he got free of that unsteady settee, diving into the water off a jetty.
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Replying to @MicroFlashFic
I really like this. Is there a name for this style of poetry?
2 replies 0 retweets 1 like
Replying to @SilentPhotoplay
I call it microfiction, though other people have other names.
4:02 PM - 1 Aug 2018
0 replies
0 retweets
1 like
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