Microfiction
A Chip on His Shoulder
About that name
Aficionados from around the globe had gathered in New York. The conference was about to start…
“I am calling to order the first annual meeting of The International Potato Chip Historical League.”
A man abruptly rose from his seat and spoke.
“Sorry, mate. You can’t be serious. That mouthful can’t be our name.”
“It seems our brother from the UK objects to the name. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Let’s keep it simple. How about The Crisptorical Society.”
“I realize you call them crisps in the UK, but crisptorical isn’t a word.
“It is now.”
Thankfully, they didn’t like aluminum.
Based on the prompt: “For this week’s prompt, your challenge is to write a story that contains a non-existent word. But we can’t just go around making up fake words without any rules. That would be utter chaos. The first rule is, you must use www.thisworddoesnotexist.com.”
I created my own word [I refused to let AI chose for me. I’m in no hurry for robot overlords.] I don’t know why I made up the word crisptorical, but it immediately made me think of potato chips and sunburns. I decided to go with potato chips.
