It’s a venerable tradition: Hemingway, for instance, apparently claimed that his best short story was only six words long: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” Every now and again the genre is revived; and recently the write-your-own-six-word-stories ball has been set rolling once again, here. (‘Here’ is Pyr-o-mania, another blog where Adam Roberts blogs. How many blogs has he got overall? And why has he got so many? A prize for the first correct answer).
A bigger prize for the best 6-word story in the comments thread here. My six entries, reposted from the Pyr blog, are:
Your eyes are lovely. With wasabi.
‘The sky’s falling!’ ‘Don’t be stu—’
One of these words is poisoned.
A headless man? How last-century!
The one law of robotics. Kill!
The French for six is cease.
[Apologies to those looking for the ‘FREE’ project post; it seems I posted it in the wrong venue, and have been asked to take it down. AR]
RHUL Creative Writers Weblog 
She slips soundlessly from his head.
He imagines himself to be Obama.
The man from Porlock was drunk.
Rain STOP Frogs STOP Help STOP
[DR]
It’s your fault I’m so tired.
Nobody told me it was new.
Adam has far too many blogs.
Rub “all” out of eagle’s tone.
But that one’s a lousy joke.
No mas! she cried. Or wait–
And here’s another one:
Too much time on their hands.
“He imagines himself to be Obama.”
I’m pondering whether this would be better as “She imagines herself to be Obama.”
Obama imagines himself to be her.
What he found inside his pocket…
She is crucified at the crossroads.
Don’t touch that, it’s not yours.
I just broke Woody Guthrie’s guitar.
Bob Dylan is in big trouble.
Madonna’s dog is repeating on me
Let’s do it in my spaceship-tower!
Don’t open that! !taht nepo t’noD