Wicking

"This top," the label says, "is moisture-wicking. If you go for a run, it will absorb your sweat. It will absorb the sweat of the runners around you. It will absorb the duck pond, if you run past a duckpond, and will leave the ducks as desiccated, feathery husks. It will absorb the tears of the children who were feeding the ducks, and it will leave the bread that they were throwing a sandy residue. It will render all cakes, biscuits, and pastry products in a five-mile radius a crumbly disappointment. Chefs will lose their jobs. To be honest," the label says, "We regret developing this moisture-wicking top. Please don't buy it." 

Cosmo

Graham screamed like a kettle.
Allison put down the lemon.
The copy of Cosmo lay open on the ground.
She'd done it again.
Page 24 was "10 ways to please your man".
Page 42 was "10 ways to ensure a tender steak."
On the barbeque, the steak sizzled in whipped cream. 
And fishnets. 

Eleven word story

Graham began to suspect that he was in the wrong abbatoir. 

The Bullet

The bullet missed the policeman’s heart.
He had enjoyed their time together,
and wished they had parted on better terms.

Jeans

Steven Prentice killed the toothfairy. He hadn't meant to. He'd put a glass over her and slid a piece of card underneath, and meant to take her to the open window - to release her into the cold October night. 

But one of her legs had got caught. 
And she'd started writhing. 
And it seemed kinder to put her out of her misery. 

So Steven Prentice had lifted the glass and brought his hand down to the table, pressing his palm against the wood until no light shone through. 
He wiped the gunk on his jeans.
Then watched Question Time. 
It was disappointing.