Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
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.
The topic this week was Tea.
And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:
- Claire Voiant
- Yordie Sands
- Meadhbh Hamrick
- Explorer Dastardly
- Miata Stardust
- Serendipidy Haven
- Tura Brezoianu
- Bonchance and Sevi
- Cliff – Uncle Monster
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of Black.
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:
As she led him through the pasture the full moon lit the way.
She selectively plucked the mushrooms of her choice from the cow pies.
Once back home they were cleaned. boiled, and finally strained from the tea.
A packet of Kool-Aid, heavy sugar, and lemon juice.
Herbs, a candle, an incantation.
They finished their glasses in one swallow.
As she refilled their glasses
Reality swam away from him in long steady strokes.
It was then he saw her for what she was …
In her eyes he saw the reflection of a man enchanted …
Soul forever lost …
Every pouring of the special, hot tea was ceremonious. Eddie made elaborate flourishes with the teapot, flipping the porcelain cup in the air, before pouring the Earl Grey with aplomb. He tossed a small, silver spoon into the air, and it landed directly into the middle of the ornate teacup without the hint of a splash. He sliced a fresh lemon, behind his back, without looking, and placed the wedge carefully, edgewise, on the saucer. Eddie was an artist, and people would make it a point to go to the truck stop to see him work, regardless of being teetotalers.
The tea, or elixir, she poured was guaranteed that I would attract females. I paid the gypsy a thousand dollars for three of her potions. The last–the tea, would complete the course she insisted I required. Had I known what kind of females I would attract, I would have gone elsewhere for help dans le département de l’amour. As I exited the gypsy’s storefront, I bumped into a slim, attractive, blond. I excused my clumsiness, helping her to pick up her packages. She scowled and told me to fuck off, and screamed “watch where you’re going, you clumsy oaf.”
Millie only drank chai tea with soy milk and a smidgin of savia. She was a total aficionado of the stuff, and when she drank it, she held her pinkie high, like the Royal Mum at afternoon tea. She was stunning in her appearance, but her habits were annoying, ostentatious, and I felt embarrassed to sit with her at the coffeehouse. She affected a pseudo British accent, only slightly covering her Brooklyn accent, which made the whole scenario that much more bizarre, but entertaining. I put up with her affectations as her husband and co-owner of a large, liquor chain.
by Jeffrey Fischer
In the 1970s, I ran a small hospital in a war-torn African country. We had few medical supplies and were chronically short of painkillers, but we always had plenty of tea from a nearby plantation.
When patients came to me in severe pain and mortally wounded, I personally served the tea. Laced with strychnine, it ended their suffering in as humane a way as possible.
Of course, eventually the authorities got wise to my unusually high mortality rate. A general sat in my office, a serious look on his face, impatiently tapping a leg.
Tom & Viv & Me
by Yordie Sands
On a late August afternoon, while dancing around my bedroom, in my undies, I was suddenly swept into a time vortex.
Instantly, I was standing in a parlor filled with old people. A spectacled man mumbled: “I shall sit here, serving tea to friends…”
Ever so politely I said, “I’ll have sweetener in my tea, please.”
The guests turned and glared at me. A man asserted, “Young woman! T.S. Eliot is not serving tea!”
And the woman beside the great poet shouted, “Tom, who is this slut?!”
Untroubled, Tom made a cowardly amends for what Viv had said to me.
by Helen R. Starr
Tea is not Coffee, yes; coffee has a smoky flavor, but is not seductive like tea.
Teas preference’s are a matter of choice or blend of leafs white, green, black,
or Oolong. She’s not your pinky toddling English drink anymore. Tea, seduces
the biggest of men with medicinal essences.
Tea a companion in a cup, she’s warm, earthy, and seductive. Just boil a pot of
water, get your favorite cup, and pour after a stressful day. You are never
alone with a cup of tea.
Let the warmth seep through your soul, take a deep breath, hold, and exhale,
Come over for tea, and they did. Cinnamon.
We have all been there, she said and they thought she was slipping into the abyss of an improbable mental decay.
The fireflies have lit up the garden yesterday, she said and they thought “hallucinations”. She was still so young.
Oh, and I had the most refreshing dinner with your cousin Edwin, she continued, and they thought “Edwin is dead”.
When they left, Edwin’s spectral figure glided down the stairs coming from the attic. It’s cold up there, he complained, and she pointed at the teapot and replied “they just wouldn’t leave!”
Southern Iced TEA
I was in horrible turmoil! Life on all sides, divorce, work, problems, were chasing me,
I could not breathe. Closing the door, I turned around, and saw you. All confusion flew
away. I breathed in quiet, happiness, and serenity. I sat down to eat with you, took in
your smile, your laughter…..your eyes. You held your hand out for mine and as I
grasped it, my hand slid down the glass of tea, feeling the contrast of cool water
droplets and the warmth of your fingers. My soul was finished with its journey….I’d found
“Look a cafe”
“Weren’t you a regular cola drinker?”
“Not for years now, I had to cut down on sugar and am not giving up cookies so I now drink unsweetened tea usually Tejava”.
“Do they call you Mister “ea now?”
“No but I am calling my next cat Tee Morris”
“Something Pip said about working with Tee is like herding cats”
“Well, I am naming my next cat Earl Grey”
“Because English Breakfast Blend is a really stupid name for a cat.”
“Look my tea leaves are telling me something.
“I’m out of damn tea.”
By Christopher Munroe
As you know, I work at a restaurant.
As you may not know, prepping pots of Tea is annoying.
It’s more steps than other drinks, so I have to wait in more lines, and half the time we don’t have clean teapots and I either have to wait or hand-wash one.
Which isn’t to say you shouldn’t order tea. It’s your meal. If you want tea have tea.
However, so you know: Next time somebody orders a pot of tea, I make it, get back and their friend orders a pot of tea, I’m burning the place to the ground.
The tea parties had been fun at first… the Hatter’s endless riddles and jests with the March Hare amused her, although she often felt sorry for the poor Dormouse, not that he ever seemed to mind the antics they got up to.
Eventually, the whole thing started to get on her nerves; the constant swapping of chairs and the never-ending supply of awful – always cold and far too strong – tea.
Alice determined that today would be her last.
Politely declining another cup, she brushed aside the Hatter’s protests, informing him with relish exactly where he could shove his teapot!
“Let me reading your tea-leaves, Darling.
I see backseat love in woods, hand leading to altar. I hear ‘I do’, I see lift off, interstellar journey. Arrival.
He peels off face – strange blue skin, eye-sockets. Pin-hole mouth? Darling, You have married alien!
Ouch! Impregnation gun. Clinic. Thousands behind glass. Meal-tubes. Your nine months, then joy — a blue boy.
Strange blue life in sky condominium. Blue Planet TV hours. Then, Blue Academy, his graduation. Your work is done, Darling.
Landing lights. Drop-off in woods. Green! You are home! Home?
Another cup of green tea, Darling?”
It began when her parents named her Téa. Of course the kids at school would call her Tea, even some of the teachers. It wouldn’t have been so bad but the family name was Kapp.
Then when her brother was born they called him Kofi. But things really went wrong when she overheard her parents talking about more baby names. Her mother suggested “Chai”, or “Lati”, but her father wanted “Beanie”.
They’re orphans now. Nothing was proved, but I can’t say I’d blame them. They were adopted, but whatever were the social workers thinking? Their new parents are called Mugg.
BONCHANCE and SEVI
Pepe had a plan.
Reading in “Hello Mutt” magazine tea was very popular in America. Brewing a perfect cuppa took time and patience, said the article.
What a perfect back drop to his Mary Jane investment. He could open a tea emporium as a front to his spice operation and make millions!
Opening day came quickly. Pepe spread the word about his special tea blend.
All you had to do to get a bag of stash was say “make it spicy”.
He opened the crate of his special shipment from Chairman Meow only to find it full of meow mix!
The Yin and Yang
Black or creamy
Sweet or savory
Delicate leaves evoke emotions as
The tender plant is harvested
Aromas fill the air
Rituals in abundance
Displayed through the swirl Of a ladle
Eyes fixated on gentle movements
Of the dance
With a graceful finish
As the steaming pure water
Flows down into fine porcelain
The Yin and the Yang
Raising the vessel of desire
Up to your nose
You breathe in anticipation
Of the musical release of flavours
That will fill your mouth
Awaken the senses
You offer the ritualistic chalice
To your love…
Adam Jensen sat in his apartment, recuperating from everything he’d been through. He sipped tea, watching the news. Picus TV repeated his broadcast, telling the world what he had decided they needed to hear. The media poured into the minds of the world, their brains steeping in the information. Newscasters added their own flavors to the story, some were soothing and calm, others spicy and gave heated arguments. But would the world listen? Certainly they would believe the TV, as they always did, but would they make rational decisions, and make positive change? Or would humanity stay exactly the same?
Jared heard the zombies scratching at the door and knew they’d soon be through. He had thought that if he made it out of London, he’d be safe in the country but the plague was here waiting. He’d taken refuge in a shop, but they’d found him. When the door splintered, he announced “Have a seat. Tea will be served shortly.” The undead looked confused but each quickly found a seat. Jared gripped the cricket bat and stepped towards his customers, thankful that the English loved both their tea and manners. “One lump or two?” he asked and started serving.
“I thought we’d see more stars, out here.” Borle Phlegmbburn said. “It looks like a cup of tea I once had on Cretus IV. Black with little bits of white stuff floating in it.”
“Those white spots out there aren’t stars. They’re galaxies,” Flurdy Torqespindle replied. “The reason you see so few of them is because we’re most the way to the universal expansion limit.”
“You think we’ll find any fish out here?”
“That’s kind of a stupid question for an inter-galactic ichthyologist.”
“Well, it’s as smart as, ‘How in time and space did you get us clear out here?”
We always avoided Gramma when we kids were feeling a little, how would you call it, irregular. Most kid’s moms would give them castor oil, or if they’re lucky prunes.,
Gramma couldn’t wait to dose you with her special wiener dog tea.
I always thought they were saying wiener dog pee. It was yellow and smelled bad enough. Found out it was actually the water of boiled berries from a bush that grows over where gramma’s old wiener dog is buried.
They say on full moons the ghost of that dog still pees on that bush. I believe it, too.
Tea by RedGoddess
Lola misses girls’ night out with her best friends. Since they’ve gotten older and juggling jobs and families, they’ve seen each other less. In high school, they used to hang out every day after school over soda and a basket of fries at the local diner. They gossiped about everything and give advice about boys. Life was so simple when together eating their problems away. These days, soda is not gonna cut it after dealing with her nasty boss. At home, her sister knows just what she needs to take her mind off her troubles. She makes a potent pitcher long island iced tea served with box of brownies. They talk for hours, reminiscing over drinks until they both pass out on the living room floor.
I’ll try to explain this again:
In England, tea is something you serve hot in a teacup.
But down in Texas, when people ask for tea, they’re asking for iced tea.
And in Georgia, they’ll want that tea sweetened.
The seven-eyed mass of tentacles writhed in understanding behind the bar at Sosquorphosh Station.
He actually signalled for his Xophobian bouncer to throw me out of his place.
Which really sucks, since this was the only bar in Sosquorphosh with a human-breathable atmosphere.
Um… the Xophobian hasn’t put me down yet.
Oh shit. He’s carrying me to the airlo-