The three line novel

 “I did very well for the store for six years, and it’s just time to move on for me,” Mr. Domanico said. He said he wanted to focus on his other businesses, including selling gun-related items.”

I clipped this little slugger of a quote from the article in the NYT about the closing of a Trump store in Philadelphia.
It made me think of you, Félix Fénéon!
Fénéon is most famous as the Uncle Sam looking geek painted by his friend, Seurat. But among a small, hardcore fan group, he is known as the author of the three line novel – forging fictitious fait divers for the newspaper Le Matin, in which three sometimes disjunct sentences throws into relief a whole long narrative – a baggy novel bagged, so to speak, in the narrowest of forms.

Mr. Domanico, who seems like a hybrid figure, part underground cartoon villain, part bitplayer from one of Updike’s Rabbit novels, was, of course, always going to focus on selling gun-related items. He was born (from the union of an umbrella and a sewing machine on a ironing board) to move from selling Maga hats to Smith and Wesson mitten-ware.
Out of the news item, out of the Weegee photo, out of the insatiable quest for jigsaw puzzle fact which makes up the newspaper’s imaginary, we have unleashed so many Mr. Domanicos. Millions of them. What to do with them is our Nobodaddy question of the day.