Nothing?

I started to write a story once about how everything died. All at once every single living thing just died synchronously and the story was not an account of how they died, or how some alien race reacted to their death, or how the world was no better or no worse than it was when man was around - it would be much better off, but probably plant life died as well.
It was about the beauty of everything frozen in time, a plane crashing into the ground so susceptible to gravity; a family dinner; a traffic jam. All things that aren't really all that great, but they're kind of beautiful when you consider that all these things can happen at once. It's a 3-d snapshot where it's kind of beautiful but when you look behind the picture, overall it's pretty crappy.
I never actually finished it, as so much of the things I started. I didn't know where to go, I guess. Where was the conflict? Where were the characters? What would happen next? Nothing I guess...nothing would happen next and that was the meaning I was trying to convey, but that hardly makes for a good read.
So I just stopped. Just as the world in my story instantly died, so did the story.
Maybe I'll type it up if I ever get the inclination.

How to Fire Your Wife

I haven't been writing as much as I'd like to; but, inspiration struck me at about 2 in the morning the other day when I thought: "what if a man lights his wife on fire...but then it's ok that she's on fire?" so I stayed up until 3:30 in the morning, despite the fact that I had work at 7, and wrote that story:

So my wife Peggy and I were arguing one day. Now, we don't normally fight – we're actually pretty happily married – but apparently I had forgotten to take out the trash from the bathroom garbage can, even though it was half-full still, but she doesn't want her dirty used tampons to sit around in case we have guests – even though we never have guests.

So we were fighting about it and she was like, “Reginald, you worthless, good-for-nothing shit! You never do anything right, ever! Even when you think you've done something correctly, you actually haven't!”

“Well, I'm sorry, Peggy, that I'm not some perfect little model husband who went to husband school and graduated Magna Cum Laude. You should have checked my credentials before you took that ring from me.”

“If that's your idea of humor, Reginald, I think that, in retrospect, I most likely should have.”

Unfinished No. 2

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm two things: prone to procrastination and easily distracted.
So while I sat down to type up a lot of notes for my NaNoWriMo (it's still November, right?) I of course put that off to look at all the .doc files I've filled with words and I came across one I titled
"The awesomocity of wordy-dads and sentences-schmentences."
Brilliant, right?
It was supposed to be about a man, Norman Lucas, who could utter single words and create whatever word he uttered (for example, if he held a glass and said "wine" he'd have a full glass of wine, if he said"explode" something would explode).
Things would happen as a result, mayhem would ensue, and etc. but we never got that far. We pretty much met Norman and introduced our plot device.