Tie a yellow ribbon

Before you tie the yellow ribbon around the old oak tree, remember to soak it in the potion that the Enchantress made for the summoning ceremony.
We don’t want the spirits of our missing soldiers to come home with any demonic baggage this time.
Remember ten years ago, when we forgot to imbue the yellow ribbon with the protection and binding agent?
Of course you don’t. We had the Enchantress work up a forgetting spell for the children after we drove back the demon horde.
Sadly, it only works on children. We elders have to live with the horrible memory.

Your heart still beats

By the time we tie your hands behind your back and pull the black bag over your head, you’re already dead.
Oh, you’re still breathing. Your heart still beats.
But it doesn’t matter. We’ve scanned your ID chip, and your records are already canceled.
We already have your blood type, DNA, and tissue profiles.
Every organ in your body is up for auction. To pay for your crimes.
You feel the needle in the back of your neck.
Lie still. Don’t move.
Don’t damage state property.
We can make it worse. Much worse.
Do you want to feel the knives?

Weekly Challenge 548 – Express

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

This is the 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:



Week 548 – Express

The passengers boarded the 3:50 headed west and waited for the train to pull out of the station. Then, as always, the train stopped about five miles down the line to allow the 4:00 express train to pass. Couldn’t the railroad just switch the two trains? Everyone who wanted to be home earlier could catch the speedy 3:50, and the cheaper folks could follow behind at 4.

Gutierrez laughed. What was the point of getting home earlier? The guys never showed up at the local until around six, so he made the most of his extra time by studying the ankles of the well-dressed lady one row in front of him.


Express Yourself
By Ross Hastings

“Express yourself” quoth Madonna, famously.

Acknowledging the fact that her early material rarely brims with subtext or irony, it seems fair to assume the sincerity of her most earnest encouragement.

The problem is, asking most people to express what they’re really thinking is like like encouraging an alcoholic to drink, or a Japanese businessman to sing “I would walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers, or, asking a toddler to shit himself. Their responses, rarely hesitant, will be aggressively enthusiastic, your approval of the results assumed up-front, and your inevitable suffering when they shit themselves socially, publicly and literally, won’t be Madonna’s fault. It will be yours.


By Christopher Munroe

Don’t go for second best, baby, put your love to the test.

You know you got to make him express how he feels, and baby then you’ll know your love is real.

Express yourself.

Freedom of expression is, after all, constitutionally protected, as noted legal scholar Madonna pointed out.

But, perhaps more importantly, self-expression is a responsibility. As citizens of a free society we’ve a duty to make our voices heard.

I’m expressing myself right now, in fact.

What I’m saying is basicaly nonsense, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I have the right to say it…


The end of the world

The white plumed sigh from Platform 3 was almost louder than the announcement.

A replacement bus service leaving shortly.

But the parents of the girl shivering by the leaf strewn track behind the Industrial estate (just after the turn) got to outlive their daughter. Her life now was hard. But it got much better.

On the bus a couple met for the first time although they lived only streets apart. Shared first this journey then a life full of happiness.

Some did miss the gold of the leaves.
The smell of the coffee.
And were just late for work.


#1 – Agatha

Grandfather was a huge fan of Agatha Christie. He had all of her works, even a couple of first editions. So, when it came to his eightieth birthday, we clubbed together to buy him and grandma a trip on the Orient Express.

It had always been his favourite story, but we had no idea just how he’d taken it to heart.

The first we knew that something was wrong was when he was escorted from the train at the end of the journey by a policeman… Without grandma!

They said she was murdered, but the culprit? That remains a mystery!

#2 – Retirement

My grandfather was a funny chap, when he retired he found it hard to adopt a life of leisure.

He refused to take things easy and whenever something interesting was happening, you’d be sure to find him there, keeping notes, taking photographs and generally being a nosey old bugger!

After he died, we cleared out his house – there were boxes crammed full of the fruits of his labours: Accounts of every noteworthy event in town, births, marriages, deaths and disasters – all meticulously recorded.

We found his business cards – Arthur Sponge – reporter (retired) – ex-press.

#3 – Grandfather

It was my grandfather’s express wish that his ashes be scattered at the peak of Kilimanjaro, upon the last snows of spring, under a full moon.

Needless to say, we had no intention of seeing his wishes fulfilled, until his solicitor advised we wouldn’t see a penny of his fortune unless we complied.

It took months of organising, but finally it happened – exactly as he’d wanted.

The thing is, grandfather was no fan of mountaineering, had no interest in Africa and hated snow… But he loved a practical joke, and I guess he’s laughing fit to burst right now!


One Glorious Shinning Moment
Jessy and Jacob flew for the Great Eastern Express Corp. The Batloft Express ran relay flyers from Denman on the plains to Cordovetus on the coast. Tandem flying down the central circuit insured that mail would reach its appointed destination. Jessy, the bolder of the team, tended to keep his Batloft closer to the ground for speed advantage. Jacob flew a bit higher which gave him a strategic advance. They averaged 20,000 clicks a trans-cycle, the best frackn relayers on the transvelt. With the completion of the Great Western Clack Corp’s Heliograph Net the Batloft Express faded into history.


I wish you people would get it right, it’s the one thing guaranteed to raise my blood pressure.

The word is ‘espresso’ – got it?

Never ‘expresso’! There’s no such thing… It means nothing and shows you up as an ignorant fool, without whom society would be better off.

In fact, maybe I should do something about that?

Go ahead, order an ‘expresso’, and let’s see what you get… Maybe I’ll lace it with cleaning fluid, add a shot of bleach and a sprinkling of glass splinters.

You won’t notice – you wouldn’t know coffee if you drowned in it!



By Jon DeCles

What really bothered the genii should not have bothered him. All djinn had been trapped by King Solomon, so his imprisonment was a given. It was the unique nature of the prison that was the problem. Solomon’s most famous geometry was his seal, but he had been imaginative, and long before that latter day saint of topography had given his name to it, Solomon had devised a Klein bottle: in which he had put the genii. As it was inside itself, there could never be a way out. But Solomon had also pioneered building ships in bottles: thus eternal seasickness.

The Fastest Tap in the West

By Jon DeCles

When you dance dressed as a female they call you a pony. Fred learned that watching “A Chorus Line,” and went out and got himself a job. Most of the guys wanted to be Ginger Rogers, so everybody could dance; but Fred wanted to be Ann Miller, who had the fastest foot in Hollywood. He heard that she could unhinge her hip, but without that he still got the 500 taps per minute and that made him a star, even if in a limited niche of theater. He was fondly remembered at his death, aged 90, as ‘The Pony Express.’


Pa didn’t like trains. “Horse and buggy’s all you’ll ever need,” he’d say.

One day, the express train stopped. Even the stopping train didn’t stop there, ‘less you telegraphed a request. It had broken down, and was waiting for another engine to come. So I hitched.

The big city, it’s like, even seeing it, I couldn’t imagine it.

So, I’m just a boy, and I got nothing. I gotta live, so… anyway, weren’t no worse than home.

Eventually I take another train, bigger places. And now here I am, starship captain, boldly going. There’s always a bigger place to go.


Would you like to offer a special someone a trip to an unknown destiny? We have what you’re looking for. Rates for all budgets. We have a promo with our Express Rate. The ride might not be first class, the company somewhat off but… it’s all part of the adventure, right? We’ll take your special someone to vaguely puzzling yet strangely calming accommodations where he’ll be able to enjoy the serene tranquility of our lodgings, alongside a large crowd of other peaceful campers. Oh, and we’ll even provide a sturdy shovel for the… gardening hours, a highlight of our program.


After warming himself in the blanket, eating the ramin, and drinking the water, Mickey came to his senses. He didn’t know where he was. To find his way home, his best chances lay at the hideout he had just fled.
Finding his way back through the darkness he crouched in the brush, watching people mill about the shack. He couldn’t express his disappointment to find among the criminals both Ferrit and Cherry Cola.
He wanted to run out and confront these girls who he’d thought were his friends.
All he could say was, “Ooooo, oooo.”
He was still a monkey.


Years ago, the Round Rock Express were founded by Nolan Ryan and his son Reid Ryan.
They were the minor league team of the Houston Astros.
But then Nolan Ryan joined the front office of the Texas Rangers.
The Round Rock Express became the minor league affiliate of the Rangers.
Then, the Astros hired Nolan and Reid Ryan for their front office.
The Express will return to the Astros in two years.
All this time, the Corpus Christi Hooks have been owned by the Ryans, and it’s been an Astros minor league team.
But nobody gives a crap about Double-A.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is the Halloween Special

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 HALLOWEEN.

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.

10/23 Express
10/30 Halloween Special
11/6 Watch
11/13 PICK TWO: Tramp, Hate, Free, Burn, Channel, Catharsis, Zoo, Twiddle
11/20 Idiot
11/27 Paint
12/4 Moment
12/11 Scream
12/17 Dark
12/25 Christmas Special

… what?

One Frankenstein

It’s not correct to call the creature Frankenstein.
Nor is it correct to call the creature Frankenstein’s Monster.
The truth is, the creature measured exactly one on The Frankenstein Scale.
Dr. Frankenstein created a unit of measurement.
With zero representing something completely harmless and one representing something that was as scary and dangerous as that creature.
Now, if you had two identical creatures, they would not necessarily measure two on The Frankenstein Scale.
There may be some inefficiencies and overlap, resulting in a score less than two.
Or, they may cleverly work together, resulting in a score greater than two.

Haunted Housemanship

Jeff and his friends built a haunted house every Halloween.
They challenged themselves to make it creepier and scarier every year.
One year, an evangelical Christian group built a “Christian” haunted house.
Instead of ghosts and goblins, they showed the evils of abortion, divorce, drug use, and gay marriage.
So, Jeff and his friends built a new haunted house that showed the evils of Christianity: child molestation, fringe cults, denial of women’s access to health care, and protesting the funerals of solders.
Across the street, Abdul Mohammed laughed and PayPalled another hundred bucks to his friends in ISIS and Hamas.

The boy who cried AESOP!

You know the tale of the boy who cried “Wolf!”
It was written by Aesop after he was found with the mutilated corpse of a shepherd boy.
“He was torn apart by wolves,” he told the police. “He’d jokingly cried wolf once too many times, nobody believed him, and so nobody came to his aid when he was beset by wolves for real.”
The police wrote this down, and sent Aesop on his way.
Aesop walked down the road, stomach full of the boy’s blood.
His story had worked.
And it would work again the next time he grew hungry.