The Tale of Madam Goodwitch and Gizzly-Gee.

Madam Goodwitch loved two things - knitting and making magic. The only problem was that she was a little bit short-sighted, and had a bad memory. One day, she realised how lonely she had been feeling of late, so decided to do something about it. She would knit herself a little toy kitten. She sat in her big chair by the fire, picked up her knitting needles, and started knitting.

She reasoned she would start with the tail, as it was the longest and easiest part. As she knitted, from a fine black fluffy yarn, she started to sing.

"Oh Gizzly-Goo, Gizzly-Gee, make a little friend for me.
Oh Gizzly-Gee, Gizzly-Goo, make me a friend and I will love you."

The thing is, she had forgot that the last week she had broken her knitting needles when she sat on them, and the only thing she had left that was anything like a knitting needle were the two magic wands her father, who was a powerful magician had left her in his will.

She knitted and knitted, and soon enough, she had finished. In her sewing box were two beautiful green glass buttons, so she stitched them onto her toy kitten as eyes, and set her work down on the table to admire it.

As she stood back, she smiled at her work. "Gizzly-Gee." Remembering her song, she stroked the little toy kitten's head. "I shall call you Gizzly-Gee."

"Mreow?" The toy called Gizzly-Gee chirped back.

Madam Goodwitch was stunned. She reached out to touch Gizzly-Gee's fur. Gizzly-Gee, in return nudged her hand with its little head, purring. After a few moments, realisation set in. Madam Goodwitch picked up her little toy kitten and cuddled it with joy. "Oh my soul! My little kitten-toy is real! I love you little Gizzly-Gee!"

From that day on, Madam Goodwitch was never alone, her little Gizzly-Gee always sitting by her feet, playing with her yarn as she knitted, and sitting purring on her lap as she sat in her big chair of an evening.

Koshkin.

Koshkin was very tired.

"I'm so tired," she said as she climbed up to her favourite spot on the back of the sofa, next to the wall, "I could sleep for a bajillion years."

So she curled up into a little furry ball and did just that.

Aeons passed, civilisations came and went, stars and galaxies were born and died, and still she slept.

Finally she awoke to complete darkness.

Now, cats can see quite well in the dark, but this was a darkness so complete, so total, that even her green eyes could not penetrate it.

"Oh," said Koshkin. "This isn't very good."

She cleared her throat.

"Let there be light." 

"Please?"

A story in six words?

Stupidity cured? Overpopulation crisis now looms!