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:
The Morning After
by Jeffrey Fischer
In the 1970s, my parents participated in a monthly bridge game that rotated among houses. The host would put on a record, put out some food, and provide a great deal of liquor. They’d drive home, somewhere between tipsy and plastered – the 70s were groovy, children – and loud enough to wake the kids.
By the sober – and hung-over – light of the morning, the recriminations started. “You should have bid six no trump!” “I clearly signaled to you that I had no spades.”
Bridge games faded away like bell-bottoms in the 80s. So did my parents’ marriage.
George was a pirate,but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Pillaging and burning was fun, but it didn’t seem like a reliable vocation.
He enrolled in the local Jr. College and took several courses in accounting.
In time George developed great bookkeeping skills and set up shop as an accountant.
Soon he was working for Calico Jack, Henry Morgan and Black Beard.
“Wow” thought George, “this is like plundering with out all the blood.”
Everything was great until Black Beard took a look at the books. They tried George for
misappropriation of funds and made him walk the plank.
The record, and all the pertinent data, including videos viewed, was inscribed on the granite pedestals of the bridge. A bronze tag was prepared and attached to the bottom of the column. The record was that of all of my personal Facebook history.
Zuck agreed to pay for all the materials, property, and labor. I threatened him with exposing his dicpic from school. If he did not comply, he would surely be embarrassed, and so would his wife’s family.
I was amazed at how much data was in the file. I requested it from FB, and it arrived minutes later.
Mr. Caramel was surely the one who knew more about everyone else. He noticed every single detail regarding the neighborhood and memorized it thoroughly.
Mr. Caramel could hear his wife chatting languidly with Mr. Granite, that Mr. Granite…
Mr. Caramel decided, right there and then, that he wasn’t going to do anything but enjoy the warm hours of a lazy afternoon. He slowly stretched his neck towards the sun.
If Mrs. Caramel wanted to eat, she could go prepare things herself… or ask Mr. Granite.
He stood on the pole and closed his eyes. Mr. Caramel was a proud seagull.
#1 – Murder!
“Cover it up, I’ve seen everything I need”
The officers pulled the tarp over the bodies, hiding the crime scene from prying eyes; Detective Fredericks sighed. A senseless waste of life… And why?
These two victims brought the total to six: All young supermarket employees, just doing their jobs, brutally murdered in bizarre circumstances.
The first victims, crushed by half a ton of wheatflour; another suffocated – oats forced down his throat. Now these two, stabbed through the heart with corn cobs.
He didn’t know the motive, but Fredericks knew for sure, he had a cereal killer on his hands!
#2 – Pride
Just for the record, I want to make it clear that I’m proud of my kids. Sure they may not exactly have ‘excelled’ in their endeavours, with Joey in prison – for the third time – and Amy banned for life from athletics for doping. And then there’s George, the pirate. Pirate, my arse! He was an undercover cop, until his cover got blown and they forced him to walk the plank!
So, not very good at all at what they do.
But still, I’m proud of them, because there’s one thing that they all do extraordinarily well…
In the moonlight blood turns black
They found the body under a tarp at the center of the Granite Bridge. The head Detective placed a toe tag on the victim and noted his cursory finding in a small book to record the basic facts. The watch commander asked Reilly a lot of very pertinent questions later that night. “Surely, the perp entered the bridge from the south end,” said Captain Jeremiah O’Brien. Lieutenant Caramel Santiago suggest a counter argument. “Given the marks on the lower section of the bridge it is possible he came up from the river.” All eyes turned to Santiago, she beamed proudly.
My Fair Lady
The detective found the pertinent record in the corner, under a caramel-colored tarp covered in dust. Surely the builder was simply too proud to notice his error, which was why he wore a tag on his toe down at the morgue, victim of a disaster of his own making. The great span of the new granite bridge had been impressive until the vibration of usage proved it to be weak where it could not afford to be weak. The builder was standing at the base when, like London Bridge, it came falling down. She decided the cold case was closed.
In my profession, we have standard methods for disposing of bodies.
We’ve moved on from acid baths – they take forever, they stink, and there’s only so much acid you can buy before arousing suspicions.
These days, we keep things simple: wrap the body in a tarp, and bury it; or wrap the body in a tarp and throw it off a bridge; some wrap the body in a tarp and weigh it down with rocks, for disposal at sea.
But I’m getting too old for manhandling bodies in tarps.
Although, I make decent money: Manufacturing tarps for the Mob!
Billbert ate his lunch alone, constantly surveying his surroundings like a detective on a stakeout.
Roderick was a grade higher than he and ate his lunch at a different time. Surely, they were unlikely to cross paths at this time.
The pertinent question was how was he going to get home after school without getting beaten up?
Maybe he could tag along with some of the kids who lived in his neighborhood. Would Roderick confront him with witnesses to record the event?
Then he realized. He could take the bus. Crammed in like sardines Roderick wouldn’t get close to him.
It has been a record-setting year for people jumping off of the bridge.
Leonard with the Park Service has his electric cart ready with a tarp when we spot someone going over the rails.
Ricardo handles evenings, and Paco handles weekends.
For a while, they kept score in the breakroom.
Someone complained to the director, and they wiped the board clean.
When the electric cart runs low on power, they plug it in to charge.
But sometimes they forget, and they try to run out with the tarp.
It’s too heavy to carry. They end up dragging it out there.