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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.
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By Christopher Munroe
Correct me if I’m wrong…
But vaccines cause deadly genetic defects, while measles, mumps and rubella are minor illnesses that are easy to deal with.
Immigration is an ISIS conspiracy to spread Ebola.
It’s not just Obama, EVERY president was secretly a Muslim.
Fluoridated drinking water is a plot by the UN to, as part of agenda 21, turn our children into communists via mind control.
The world itself is hollow, and the lizard men who rule us in conjunction with the illuminati live in its core.
…what, I AM wrong?
All of it?
Oh. Okay. My mistake…
by Jeffrey Fischer
The three men finished tunneling under the prison around 3 a.m. They resurfaced ten yards past the range of the searchlight outside the prison grounds and went their separate ways. Hank was happy about that. Donnell, a large black man, had beaten his boss to death with a tire iron, while Waylon, a fully-tattooed neo-Nazi had done some nasty knife work. Hank was amazed that the two cooperated long enough to dig the tunnel.
Hank gave a last look at the sign, which marked the prison as the “Middletown Correctional Center.” He laughed at the inaccuracy. Places like that didn’t correct their inmates; they only shut society’s problems away from squeamish eyes. But Hank didn’t really care what they called it: he had an ex-wife to track down and kill.
by Jeffrey Fischer
Travis looked at the stack of essays he had to correct by the next morning and regretted, not for the first time, his choice of career. Once he thought teaching was a cushy gig, spending an hour at a time telling kids what he already knew. No one warned him about the rude students, the disruptive ones, and the ones who just didn’t give a damn about anything. They refused to listen, or learn, and the end result was a pile of poorly-spelled, grammatically-bewildering words about “Romeo and Juliet,” with themes stolen from the first two pages of a Google search. He considered blowing out his brains to avoid having to look at the essays, but that would give the kids too much satisfaction. Instead, he reached for the red pen.
#1 – George’s Story – Part 99: The best
Slipping into the driving seat of his car, George spotted the marketing leaflet lying in the footwell that had started this whole crazy thing off. He picked it up and re-read the fateful words:
“CONNECT PROTECT SOLUTIONS – Elite bodyguarding, personal security and covert operations. Have you got what it takes to be the best?”
He’d always been jealous of Julie’s high-powered career as a ‘protection specialist’ and had pestered her for months to let him try… and he’d properly messed up!
“Ah well”, he thought, starting the engine, “the world needs plumbers”, and there at least, he was the best!
#2 – Disconnected
‘Unable to connect to the server!’
I try again, and then again with no luck. I wait a few minutes and give it another go. Still nothing. Just how long is this going to take?
I look around me, but nobody else seems to be struggling: they click, they connect, everything works as it should, but not it seems, for me.
Perhaps there’s a knack to it, a tricky flick of the wrist that I’ve yet to master, or maybe it’s just a matter of timing.
Then unexpectedly, I connect. The server smiles…
“Are you ready to order, sir?”
The teacher asked, “In a straight line of fenceposts, 5 feet apart, how far is it from the first to the 20th?”
The student at once replied, “100 feet!”
“95,” the teacher reproved.
The next day, the teacher asked, “Consider telegraph poles, 10 yards apart. How far from the first to the 10th?”
“90 yards!” replied the student, proud of his new knowledge.
“Correct. But have you truly learned? Consider again fenceposts, 5 feet apart. How far from the 20th to the 40th?”
“95 feet, of course!” said the student.
The teacher responded, “You have not learned how to learn.”
A man passed by a building site, and advised the builders. “Now then,” he began, “I can see that you do not know the correct way to build a house. You have walls with no roof! Learn from me: a house must have a roof. They are surrounded by churned mud, but a house needs roads and gardens about.”
The builders do not answer this man. He has perceived only the outward form and knows nothing of the inner form that creates the outer. They know the business that they are about, and everything will happen at its correct time.
The leg bone’s connected to the…
The knee bone’s connected to the…
The shoulder bone’s connected to…
The neighbour’s annoying Yorkshire terrier!
I’m not sure what you’d call my creations. ‘Living sculptures’ perhaps, although, if I’m honest, most of them don’t live terribly long.
I realise that not everyone appreciates my work, but they do say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I just think it’s beautiful to take that eye, and connect it in a new and interesting way.
And, as the bodies twitch and convulse…
I see poetry in their motion.
The identification of that mysterious liquid recovered from the landing site was correct. At first, no one believed Professor Grant. Then, when the matter started to break and beautiful blue lights fought their way out of the vials, everyone panicked. They called him back to a frantic lab. “What should we do?” they asked. The Professor knew there was nothing to be done. “Seal the base. Let’s hope for the best.” It took them a long time to connect the dots and find a way out. Many were left behind… fatally. However, the blue planet continued to be beautifully blue.
After all of this, I hope you will still consider me a friend.
I mean, we did both spend a fair amount of money and several hours filling out surveys on Match/Connect.
Maybe you didn’t answer all the questions in a most truthful manner. I went with a plus or minus 10ish on the 1 to 5 scale, so I am to blame too.
I think the algorithms thought we would make a perfect match as you are a left leg amputee, and I am a right. Unfortunately I think you have awful taste in shoes. A blue Croc, really?
When you walk in the valley of Business you’ll be pelted with affirmations: Feast or Famine, when it rains it pours. Let me add another, if you don’t protect your joys, none will survive the light of day. A bit long winded, and lord knows I really don’t have the time. But if you promise not to tell anyone, I will show you my last surviving joy. Its 80 blinking lights. Yup my joy is connecting LEDs. Since I can’t solider, who has the time for that? I just connect the LED leds to breadboards. I call the project firefly.
A Well Defined Relationship Part 99
The deliver was long and then it got longer. Colonel Parsons was slumped against a wall, and it was there Doctor Proctor joined his slump. “Did you know we met during the war?” “Did you know I met you before the war?” “It was a time of connections. Alliances and Afflictions. A maelstrom of relationship that shifted and shredder the landscape. ” “So rebel scum can you save my son?” “At a cost, a very horrible cost.” “You know what my wife wants?” The Doctor fell sadly silent. As he rose to return, a hand stopped him. “Save my Wife.”
As Dergle and Long John drove away from Bambi’s house, he said, “At least there’s one person who believes I still exist. Now, if I can just get the rest of the world to believe me as well.”
Driving past McDonalds, he had an idea. After driving through and getting chicken nuggets for Long John and an Oreo McFlurry for himself, he parked close to the building. He pulled out his laptop and logged onto the free wifi.
“They say the best way to connect with people is on Twitter,” he told his dog and created his account as @WienerDogMan.
My cousin Barry would not just win, he would flat out humiliate me playing what I thought was going to be a friendly game of Connect 4. When the Qubic 3D board came out, I was stunned. “This isn’t connect 4,” I said. “Sure it is,” Barry teased, “you just have to get 4 in a row to win, hence, it is just like Connect 4.” My 8 year old mind just wasn’t capable of understanding all the new strategies I needed to master in 3D, and my older cousin took full advantage of that. That’s o.k, I can totally humiliate Barry playing Scrabble now.
They say that twins share a special connection.
I’m not talking about conjoined twins, where they share a liver or a spleen.
I’m talking about one knowing how the other feels, or when one strikes their thumb with a hammer and the other feels pain.
Scientists think that this has something to do with mirror neurons and seeing someone that looks like you experiencing something, so you feel like you experience it, too.
But that doesn’t explain me and my evil twin brother Bart.
Haven’t seen him in years. Nobody has.
But, I swear, I hear screaming. And smell brimstone.