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:
On Royal Headwear
By Christopher Munroe
I’m no king, but I own a crown.
Because it’s 2016, crowns are readily available for purchase, I wanted one and fuck you, that’s why.
I’ll never lead a nation, but a crown’s something I could make happen, and I deserve to have things that bring me joy.
So I bought it.
Now I own it.
And when I feel down and need to be picked up, I take it out and put it on, and wearing it does make me feel a little better.
And I’ll tell you right now, for the record: I absolutely fucking crush that crown.
by Jeffrey Fischer
The Devil, to stave off boredom, wanted new ways to take souls. He turned to chess. So many suckers thought they had skill at the game. He roamed the boards in Central Park, challenging the players.
Clyde looked like just another homeless black man with a substance-abuse problem. But Clyde had studied the game for years and readily accepted the Devil’s challenge, on one condition: one move per day. The Devil agreed.
Clyde had a plan. When he castled, protecting his king in a corner, the Devil understood this time he was the sucker. The game was a draw, playing out one day at a time. That was over 50 years ago, and Clyde is still going strong. And yes, the Devil is bored.
by Jeffrey Fischer
For eons, Elvis found the afterlife fascinating, but even infinite variety dulls eventually. He decided to find out how he was remembered on Earth. Michael Jackson begged him not to look, but the King could never think of Michael as anything but the kid singer in the Jackson 5.
On the whole, Elvis was happy how things turned out: millions of record sales, Graceland was a shrine to his legacy, and even the imitators in rhinestone-studded jumpsuits were somehow endearing.
But… peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Who in his right mind would think Elvis actually liked that crap? Only Yankees, who thought a Southern boy, no matter how rich, could have no decent palate. He slapped those ingredients together once, when he nothing better in the house. Only a quart of whiskey made the sticky mess go down.
#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: The wise king
There was once a wise king.
His wisdom and fairness was famed throughout the kingdom and people would come from far and wide seeking his guidance on disputes of every kind. The king’s days were long, but the people prospered.
It came to pass that two women came to the court, bringing with them a baby. Both claimed the child was theirs and neither would relent, and so it fell to the king to adjudicate.
Sighing, the king called for his sword and, as the onlookers gasped in horror, fell upon it and died.
He just couldn’t take the pressure.
#2 – King Size
I don’t like to complain about old-fashioned measurements, but there’s a lot to be said for standardisation.
Whilst you lucky folks in the rest of the world get to stuff yourselves to the point of bursting on your king size burger, fries, and enormous sodas, I barely have enough to sate my hunger.
You lounge away the nights in your king size beds, whilst I freeze in a bed that’s simply not big enough.
In fact, everything described as ‘king size’ around these parts is tiny in comparison.
That’s the problem when your king is a twelve-inch ruler!
King For A Day
Timmy wasn’t the sharpest tools in the shed. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he entered the King for a Day Contest. “What the heck,” he said. Winning hands down the good subjects of Licktenrubal looked forward to the day after King Timmy’s rein, preparing for a good laugh at his expense. Oddly on coronation day Timmy was nowhere to be found. Soldiers, sheriffs, and the greater number of Lintenrubians scoured the countryside searching for Timmy. Tired and dejected they returned to the castle to find the Royal Treasury looted. Seems Timmy wasn’t as dim as he seemed.
The Day I Didn’t Meet the King
It does not take much raw material for the fates to weave the smallest of lives into the backdrop of history. A Jesuit father ends up in New France in the 1600s. He rows his canoe through the swap that will become the future site of the 2nd city. The civil leaders of the city name a park in his honor. Since the name of the park is the same as my family’s name we would often picnic there. In Aug 1966 the Rev King marched through the park as I watched the hate rise. He looked pretty damn scared
In Plain Sight
For those who are fond of riddles I have the following. A man who was born a king but never abdicated a crown to become President of the United States. Sounds pretty Da Vinci Code: a Pope interred. All whimmly wobbly, which is one hint to his identity. He sat in judgement on a bullet which defied the laws of physics. Here’s a second: He weathered the attack of two assassins. But not that of his political rival, which is your third. When you’ve secured his name please post it to the comment area. You are a king among men
Once a king, always a king, they say – but not if I have anything to do with it.
You may be a big shot in your country: Prime minister, president, dictator, prince or queen – to me, you’re just another day’s work.
I don’t care who you are, or how important you may be, as long as I’m paid the going rate, you’re a target, and I will bring you down to size using whatever means I have.
Poison, bullet, blade or bludgeon – your status won’t help.
And I’ll live…
Once an assassin, always an assassin!
The King Is Dead
The King is dead, long live the King!
The Chamberlin made the official royal announcement in a loud and clear voice to members of the royal court of the pasting of long reigning King John Quincy Marcus IV and of Prince Charles becoming King Charles William David VIII.
As he ascended to the throne, King Charles became acknowledged absolute ruler of 20 million subjects in the tiny county of Lilliput.
What a week it has been for now King Charles, beginning on Monday he went to his first day of kindergarten and then, only three days later, He’s the King.
The kids made fun of Bernie whenever he said “I’m a King.”
What he meant was he belonged to the old local King family, although he wasn’t called “King”.
Bernie was, however, proud of his heritage and no one would convince him otherwise.
Fresh out of College, a distant cousin called Harold King introduced him to the right people.
When Bernie came back for his high-school reunion, the kids sure didn’t make fun of him when he said “I’m a king!”
He had married into a European royal family and had become king, only in title, but still a king.
Monkey Boy rounded the penguin pool, shot past the tiger pen, hurried out the service gate and onto the main boulevard through the east side of his city. Two thoughts raced through his head as he dodged pedestrians and ginkgo trees spaced every twenty feet in the sidewalk: What did Pole Cat and her crew want from him, and how long would it take for them to catch up with him?
He ducked through the back door of the Chicken King restaurant and slipped into the storage room.
A woman turned around and shouted, “Mickey. You’re late for your shift.”
You probably know about Queen Latifah, the soul singer and actress, but was there ever a King Latifah?
Yes. Yes, there was.
But as with Latifahs, the queen bites the king’s head off after mating.
No, Queen Latifah doesn’t have any kids. Sadly, the mating was unsuccessful.
And even if she did have kids, she’d just have eaten them, right?
Except for one, who she’d raise as her princess.
Only upon her death would the princess be allowed to consume the royal jelly necessary to transform her into the next Queen.
But, let’s face it: She’d probably get eaten first.