Weekly Challenge #480 – Sing

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

Tinny obstruction


The Stoolie
by Jeffrey Fischer

Young Vinnie burst into the capo’s office. “The cops busted Joey,” he said, gasping for breath. The capo thought about this. “Joey’s solid. He won’t sing.”

Tony, the outfit’s lieutenant, said, “I dunno, boss. Joey’s looking at serious time, and he knows a lot about this organization. What if he cuts a deal?”

“Good point,” replied the capo. “I hate to lose Joey, but better not to take a chance. Vinnie, when he’s sprung from the joint on bail, outfit him with cement overshoes.”

Vinnie looked confused. “You got it, boss. But how are cement overshoes gonna keep Joey from singing? His voice ain’t in his feet.”

The capo wondered how much inbreeding had gone on in Vinnie’s family. “Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

Doing Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

When the police caught Big Johnny red-handed, he knew better than to sing. He kept quiet, was convicted, and sent to Sing Sing for five to ten. Big Johnny found himself sharing a cell with pro golfer Vijay Singh, who had run afoul of immigration laws. Vijay heard Big Johnny sing in the shower – Johnny was a natural tenor but an occupational accident made him more of a soprano – and suggested they form a quartet with Fingers LeGrande and an overweight female guard named Lulu. Their performance was a great success with the cons, who applauded what they thought was the last number and started to leave.

“Wait!” Big Johnny implored. “We still have one more number to go. Everyone knows it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. Take it away, Lulu.”


Rock ‘n’ Roll

Ringo was always my favourite Beatle – I mean, playing the drums is cool anyway, but the guy had balls too. Let’s face it, he couldn’t really sing, so when you hear his rough and ready tones on Sgt Pepper with the question, “What would you think if I sang out of tune?”, it’s an in-your-face challenge to which there’s really no answer.

It’s an inspirational moment – one that made me, and thousands like me think we could be as famous as The Beatles too.

Unfortunately, I really couldn’t sing in tune.

Or play the drums.

Or the guitar.

Ah well.


The musical artificer is famous for his mechanical birds. They are made with the preserved syrinxes and throat-parts of captured birds, animated by bellows and exquisite clock-work, to exalt their song above even their voice in life.

The most withdrawn room of his residence presents his greatest creations to his most discreet clients: simulacra of the finest human voices, the opera singers of living memory.

And when the latest star of the opera was found murdered in the street, her throat brutally torn out, those clients wondered only which of them might become the fortunate owner of her preserved voice.


Singing and dancing in the rain was not his thing. However, he was tempted to do it anyway just to ruin his damn shoes, a birthday gift from his girlfriend. Anticipating something as catastrophic as a pair of bright orange shoes, he had told her not to get him anything. She insisted and the result was… catastrophic. When the weather got worse, all he could think of was singing and dancing in the rain. When he returned home with ruined shoes and a well-rehearsed guilty look, she broke up with him. Hah! She knew him all too well, didn’t she?



What was that?

Handel’s beatific chorus rose from Claire’s chest, startling her boyfriend. They were still figuring out each others’ secrets, and there was much left to learn.

That’s my heart, singing for joy when you said you loved me.

Does that happen often?

It is my special superpower – whenever I feel an upwelling of emotion, my heart sings.

Strong emotions get different songs, like “Happy” by Pharell Williams, or a gut wrenching Tori Amos medley. But, if you try to adjust the “tuning knobs” when she thumps out “Brown Chicken, Brown Cow”, I will break all your fingers.



Professor Tenacio, marine biologist, studying the songs of Grey Humpback whales, couldn’t quite place his finger on a sense of familiarity.
He applied scientific method to the query. Basics. Evolution. The most direct descendants of dinosaurs to this day are birds from which other species, including mammals, are derived. Birds sing, as do mammalian whales.
He manipulated a whale song recording in a myriad of ways. It was that at several fold speed; the singing of humpbacks was identical to the songs of modern days birds. THAT was the haunting subliminal association he made, way back when this project began.


Grandmother used to keep canaries in a small gilded cage. I would tell her it was cruel to imprison them, but she’d hear nothing of it.

“Of course they’re happy”, she’d protest, “just listen to them sing”

Those birds certainly could sing, and though it broke my heart to hear them, grandmother was far too stubborn to give in to my pleas to free them.

“Listen to them sing”, she said.

So I listened.

And this was their song:

“Go into the kitchen,

and find the big sharp knife;

Plunge it deep into her chest,

and end her worthless life!”


We paid the manager then entered a portal into a new dimension. We were separated so I started to sing hoping she would hear. Monsters appeared all around me. I journeyed to a castle in the distance. Finally, I reunite with my sister who tells me we are in a world in which magic is based on musical ability. She became an elven princess when I nearly got eaten by orcs. Just my luck that when she sings it sounds like the curly haired Marx brother playing the harp but when I sing it sounds like Jack Benny playing violin.

“Can you pick me up from the BART train station tomorrow? I have an audition for a singing part.” said Dylan.

“Sure, just call me before you leave the city.” replied his father.

“You may have read the story the play is based on.”

“One of Stephen Kings?”

“No, it is a musical play based on Paul Cooley’s story Mimes. I’m singing Mimes Mimes Mimes for my audition. Does a musical based on Mimes seem odd to you?” asked Dylan

“No, I loved the musical audio drama version sponsored by Pondie’s Wieners brand all beef frankfurters and break a leg.”


With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me

He sang the body electric, turned the head and heart of a Dublin lad. In greater devotion to his mentor he created a beautiful monster. Some say Henry Irving was the inspiration for the Vampire, but I give you the following that more correctly points to Whitman both had long white hair, a heavy moustache, great height and strength, and a leonine bearing. Further, Dracula is the only character who speaks with a sense of rhythm, parallelism, and balance that is characteristic of Whitman. Stoker’s siren song of death singing through the ages. The armies of those I love engirth me.



By Christopher Munroe

Writing out a story

Singing what I’m doing

The prompt this week is sing and

So sing I’m going to do

Writing prompts in song now

This song won’t be long now

Can’t we get along now

I can, how ‘bout you?

I’m moving through the middle

Middle of the song

Yes this is the middle

Middle of the song

Moving toward the finish

Hope you like what I’ve written

But trust me; if you didn’t

I don’t even care

Taking this prompt meta

A little private joke-ey

What can you expect from me

When you make you prompt “Sing?”


Bufford sat at the table, the collection chamber in front of him, his hands folded in his lap.
“What’s in the box, Mr. Picklehacker,” the agent said, leaning one hand on the table and brushing back her long blonde hair with the other. She licked her luscious lips. “We weighed it. It’s heavy–heavier than it should be.”
Bufford shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
She slammed her hand down on the table. “We have ways to make you sing.”
“I could sing, Sweet Heart,” he said in his best Humphrey Bogart. “But that doesn’t mean you’d recognize the song.”


Before every major sports event, someone performs the national anthem.
Some do it well. And some don’t.
Oh, sure, some singers try to ham it up, and they look stupid doing it.
Or they forget the lyrics, and refuse to use the words on the scoreboard as a prompter.
The strangest I’ve ever seen was a man on a theremin and a woman using wine glasses.
It sounded really cool, until the woman spilled a wine glass on to the theremin and electrocuted them both.
Always use surge protectors, wear rubber boots, and ponder learning how to play the violin.

The next weekly challenge topic is A Hopeless Situation

Hi there. This is Laurence Simon of the 100 Word Stories Podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

The topic of the next 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge is A Hopeless Situation.

Want to give it a try?

Write an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE.

Include the following in your email:

– The text of your 100 word story on the topic.
– Your site’s URL, if you have a site and aren’t ashamed to share it.
– A topic for an upcoming Weekly Challenge.
– And a recording of your story. (Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience.)

If you hate the sound of your voice or can’t record your story for some reason or another, that’s your problem. Deal with it.

Everything’s due by Sunday morning when I put the episode together. However, if you’re running late, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post.

Good luck, and as always… keep it brief.

7/19 Guest
7/26 Spike
8/2 Kid
8/9 When
8/16 Saw
8/23 Your favorite quote
8/30 Mug
9/6 Building
9/13 Adventure
9/20 Scoop
9/27 Mirror
10/4 Good Buddy
10/11 Us
10/18 Stick
10/25 “I remember when…”
11/1 Crush
11/8 Order
11/15 Deck
11/22 Wind
11/29 Pin
12/6 Pick a card… any card!
12/13 Box
12/20 Drop
12/27 New Year’s Resolutions
The Line


Every fourth of July, loud firework celebrations happen across the country.

And every owner of a sensitive dog knows that life’s gonna be hell for their poor little pooch.

But one year, all the sensitive dogs came up with a plan. And while the country slept, they got to work.

The next evening, fireworks celebrations started as planned, except that every fireworks fuse had been sabotaged.

Instead of going off like they should, they went off instantly, killing and maiming hundreds of thousands before word got out.

Fireworks were banned forever.

The dogs loved it. They wagged their tails happily.

The King Of The Beach

The King Of The Beach lives in a massive sandcastle.

He stands on the parapet, looking out over his beach.

When he spots a child making a sandcastle, he orders his men to invade the usurper’s territory and smite their castle.

Sometimes, a child tries to put up a fight, so The King lays siege to their castle

“Mom, can you get me an ice cream?” shouts the child.

Their mother looks at the King’s men, and she urges the kid to surrender. “We’ll go to Disneyland next month, okay?”

The victorious King laughs, and returns to his parapet, watching.


It’s our anniversary. Can’t think of any personal gifts to get.

So, we bought ourselves a huge Smart TV. And we replaced our old Blue Ray player with a Smart Player.

I can control them with my smartphone.

We will probably get a smart sound bar to give us surround sound for the baseball games and movies we watch.

I’m not sure what more we can add to this system, but with all the apps and features running on these devices, they suck down more electricity than a Vegas casino.

Our electric bills bankrupted us.

Not very smart, I guess.

The Counselors

After the bomb went off, they rescued as many as they could from the rubble.

The doctors and surgeons did the best they could. But it wasn’t enough.

That’s when the counselors took over.

Repeat after me:
I am not a victim.
I am not a casualty.
I am not a statistic.
I will live on.

Remember these sixteen words.
And only these words.
They will get you through this.

And then the counselors went through the survivors.

The next day, they’d picked out the ones who were fading, and they harvested their organs.

You will live on.
In them.


My friend just had a baby.
Another friend had one recently.

Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like, to be a father.

Then, I look at my father… well, think of my father, because I haven’t actually seen him in two years, and I don’t call my parents much.

I’m not even sure what he looks like now. In fact, he could be standing right here next to me, holding out his hand and expecting a tip for hauling my luggage to my hotel suite while I tap out this story.

If so, I don’t tip. Even you, Dad.