My Medicine

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I wake up, naked, surrounded by my servants.
They have strapped and chained me to a table.
I have a good view of the ceiling. Daylight through the windows.
I don’t taste blood. My hands aren’t sticky.
Still…
“I forgot my medicine again, didn’t I?” I asked.
“Yes,” said my secretary.
“How many died this time?”
“Seven, I think. You made quite a mess.”
They release the chains and straps, and I get up.
“Thank you for washing me off.”
“You made quite a mess.”
I must remember to take my medicine.
Or my prescription will change… to silver bullets.

In or Out

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“In or out?” shouted the bully.
The third-graders along the wall lifted up their shirts to show off their bellybuttons.
Today, he was punching the Ins.
Kid after kid, he’d look down and either take a swing at their gut or they’d run away.
The last kid on the wall didn’t lift up his shirt.
So, the bully did it for him.
And saw nothing.
“Test-tuber!” The bully pulled out a knife. “I can fix that.”
The kid pulled out a neurodisruptor and stunned the bully.
“Not test-tube,” said the kid. “Arcturan researchpod.”
He reported the incident and teleported out

Rock on

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Headquarters said to throw a curveball on the application form and then ask people about their answer in the interview.
So, I added a line asking “Paper, Scissors, or Rock?”
Most people write “Rock” on their application.
(Some just circle it.)
I throw out all the Paper, Scissors and Rock responses.
Stacks of Harvard and Yale grads tumble into my wastebin.
One is left.
Their response? “Bacon.”
I hired them blind.
No interview, no reference check.
Two weeks later, we carried our stuff out in cardboard boxes together.
I needed a drink, but it’s no surprise that they needed bacon.

Saints

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Last year, the Catholic Church performed an audit on all relics throughout the world.
Concerned, they sent out teams to authenticate as many as possible.
The report detailed forgeries and fakes, but there was a curious situation with Saint Miraculon, the Wonder Machine.
After the explosion at the power plant had fried his original processor, saving dozens of workers from death by electrocution, it was enshrined in San Jose.
But a backup processor had been installed in the rebuilt chassis, keeping Miraculon 2.0 running.
“Ignore that,” said the Pope. “Will someone explain exactly how St. Ignatius had five authentic femurs?”

The Cough

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“Forget this ever happened,” said Judy, grabbing her clothes off the floor and getting dressed quickly. “Forget I was here.”
So, Robert took two green pills, showered, and forgot.
The next day, he had a doctor’s appointment, and what he thought was only a cough turned out to be something serious.
“We’re lucky to catch this early,” said the doctor, giving Robert a second shot of antibiotics. “It’s a new strain going around. Deadly stuff.”
He took the rest of the day off, missing the call from the office to let him know that Judy had died at her desk.

Fizzy

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I never understood why people like those fizzy poprocks candies so much.
Then, someone watched how I was pouring the packet into my mouth and swallowing it.
“Put a little bit on your tongue,” she said.
“And?” I asked.
“Just let it sit there for a bit.”
So, I did, and that’s when I experienced the fizzling and popping flavors for the first time.
“When do they stop?” I asked.
But I couldn’t hear her answer. The popping had grown to a deafening, rumbling roar.
My tongue was numb, and blood started to run from the corners of my mouth.

Weekly Challenge #214 – Rebirth

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fourteen, 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… was…. um…
It’s Rebirth!
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Steven the Nuclear Man
Zachmann
Guy David
Jeffrey
TJ
Terry
Justin
Norval Joe
Anima
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Steven

The water closes over my head.
As always, it is shockingly cold, flooding through the thin white
robes. The minister – or is he a preacher? Pastor? – almost lets go.
It’s symbolism, I think. Or maybe his hands are cold.
I am at the bottom of the pool. Please, I think, please stay down this time.
His hands pull me up, up, and I breach the water. The congregation
claps. I clear the water from my eyes.
“Didn’t take, Padre,” I say, and snap his neck.
As I slaughter the sheep – his “flock” – I wonder if I should try
Buddhism next.

Zackmann

Life feels so new to me now. I am just like I was at twenty, only not thinking with my hydraulic compass that got me into so much trouble, No longer sick, I bet I can run a mile in under twelve minutes, I have all my memories or a least as well as I remembered before.
Now waiting for the judge to tell us if it is legal for old me to kill himself or does he have to wait on the terminal cancer. I did not think things would be easy after transferring my mind into my clone.

Guy David

As the city has fallen, so it was rebuilt. The war was a bloody one and there was no winner. What remained of the two armies became one. They all worked together, choosing the island and building up the power around it. The island ascended above the ocean and the greatest, biggest city was built above it, complete with motion generators, a protective dome and weather controllers. That was how two proud nations ceased to be, and a whole new nation was born, vowing never to repeat the mistakes of the past. A generation change later, they forgot their vows.

Jeffrey Hite

“General we need to talk about this process. Its not going as smoothly as you’ve been told.”
The lights hurt his eyes and they buzzed making his head hurt. Who was this little man that was pestering him? He still felt weak. Did the process fail?
“General, can you hear me?” He nodded. “We don’t have much time General, we need to.” the little man uttered a choked cry. He marveled at the thing around the little man’s neck it used to be his hand before the process, weakness and frailty had been replaced by raw power, he was reborn.

TJ

The Lynyrd Skynyrd 2.0 concert was an experience to say the least.
Autotune covers of Southern rock classics in synthelectronica from guys
in what could best be described as flannel hazmat suits who were
fiddling with knobs and wires as much as playing instruments. Who came
to see these shows? Teens swathed in black who could only guess how
irritating the original band and its fans would find them, waving
cellphones to Robot Van Zant singing “Gimme Three Steps.” But what
shoved the whole concert from ironical to meta was the kid in the front
row hollerin’ “Rebirth!” “Rebirth!” “Rebiiiiiiirth!”

Terrence

I cannot take it any more. How could the podcaster continue on with story after agonizing story for five years? It is a drastic move, but it is the only one I have left. My only hope is that in the next life he will be done. The blood drips down my arms and the world goes black.
I open my eyes and I feel a large hand rubbing my back. I feel warm and happy wrapped in my fur. I purr as the man lifts me up onto his lap. I look up in horror, as the music starts.

Justin

The alien ship arrived, overriding every communication signal Earth had. Despite having cosmic technology, they only managed an audio transmission. It came out as a host of clicks, hums, buzzes and groaning. In exactly two days, sixteen hours, nineteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, the ship roasted Arizona with an energy blast. Seventeen minutes later linguists translated the message to find out they wanted 93 tons of Famous Amos cookies, or they’d destroy Kentucky. After the attack, a transmission was made that forty-three hours later was translated as “Oops, wrong state.” Phoenix, however, quickly rose from the ashes to rebuild.

Norval Joe

Billions of years ago, it was a fast burning ball of Hydrogen and Helium. A billions years later it was a super nova that scattered bits of it’s self across the galaxy. He was joined by his brother and sister stars. All born at the same time, in the star forming regions of the early universe. All lived short explosive lives, and mixed their shattered elements with his. Gravity and the conservation of angular motion worked together to take the swirling expanse of gas and dust and condense it into a new star and a single gas giant. Planet Z.

Anima

(stage note: half crazed slowly awakened vox)
The chemicals filter in and ever so slowly I become aware. Who shall I be when I get to Alpha Centuri? None know me here: no one knows the failure I was, no one knows all the horrible things I did. All of that is light years behind me now. I get a chance to start over, even if it is as a star-pioneer. I AM better than my past. With all the neurological retraining I received in transit, I WILL be able to ignore the evil voices in my head.
(stage note: mechanical ship vox)
Mr Goetz, re-berth to Gamma -87.

Planet Z

The Pregnancy Simulator was caught in a loop
No matter what the technician tried, the patient in the holosuite popped out baby after baby.
Even though they were just force-fields and projected light, the screaming babies touched a nerve in the instructors and students.
Not to mention the patient, enduring two hours of absolute torture.
(Or so it seemed.)
“They’re not real,” said the technician, pulling the plug.
The screaming and crying from the holosuite ended abruptly.
“See?”
One student shouted “YOU KILLED THEM ALL!” and tried to attack the technician.
He was sent to the psychiatric simulator for treatment.

Unmentionables

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It is rude to make mention of one’s unmentionables.
This creates a rather interesting dilemma: what is an unmentionable?
If you cannot mention then, then how does one know what not to mention?
I heard about a Downtown club where they’d mention the unmentionables.
Knock twice, then once, and then three times.
The password is “They forgot to mention it to me.”
The cops used to raid the place all the time, but these days they just collect a bribe and move on.
It’s hardly worth mentioning, really.
Perhaps that’s why the unmentionables are unmentionable.
Forget I ever mentioned them.

The Great Deal

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Five billion Zimbabwean dollars sounds like a great deal of money, but it’s worthless.
Due to hyperinflation and three devaluations, what was once on parity with the American dollar became worth just one trillion trillionth of a cent.
Since printing and reprinting that money was impossible, the Zimbabweans went electronic with all payments.
Never mind that many Zimbabweans don’t have access to electricity. And by the time everybody’s pile of paper moved over to the e-banking system, the digit limit was reached and all accounts rolled over.
Now, they use American dollars.
(Which will one day do the same thing.)

Constructive

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We try to focus on constructive criticism in these sessions, Robert.
What’s constructive criticism?
Well, making spelling corrections in somebody’s stories, for one. Or suggesting better words that fit the context.
Dropping your pants and taking a dump on their manuscripts is not constructive criticism.
Nor is throwing your chair and screaming “Shut the fuck up, asshole!” when you don’t like someone’s piece.
What? You actually liked their work?
Then why did you do those horrible things?
Just because?
There’s such a thing as positive criticism, too. And crapping on something or beating someone with a chair still isn’t constructive.