I was challenged to write a story recently in 101 words or less, so here it is.
The local legend
Snell did not think twice. It stood outside the shop unsecured. A quick glance and into the alley with the small sized rug. He did not see it coming as he limped off. No sirens or lights, just two bizzies, hands on hips in front of their squad car, blocking escape. Shit, fuck, piss-flaps, bastard, cunt. Nothing could adequately express his crushing disappointment. Then came the glorious inspirational idea that secured his fame for generations to come. With one deft move he opened the rug out and knelt upon it. Crying out the immortal phase "Fly yer bastard, fly!"
Aladdin in Manhattan??
A scally in Bootle