The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Four, 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 Choose!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Anima
	Mick
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Zachmann
	Steven
	Arri
	Ishtar
	Katharina
	Katharina
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Anima

Melly, don’t forget – State dinner tonight. I know how long it takes you to choose shoes.
She HAD forgotten…
What to wear? The blue dress, yes. It conveyed a sense of serenity and quiet elegance. Very important at formal functions. Francisco would do her hair and make up. Panic! Shoes! Surveying the closet shelves, she furrowed her brow. No, she simply could not bear to wear anything as old and outdated as what she saw here. Edualdo would need to make her something fresh and fantastic, double quick.
That settled, Imelda called in her assistants and started making arrangements.

Mick

“What’s it gonnae be, pal?”
“I desire something to eat. Can you recommend a dish?” Charles asked.
“There’s nae dishes here, bud. This is a chippy, not the bloody Ritz. We’re about to close, so it’s haggis or pizza. That’s yer lot.”
Charles took a moment to consider the limited choice.
“Pizza, please.”
The deep-fried pizza handed to him, wrapped in newspaper, bore no relation to the peasant fare he had once enjoyed in his youth. He sunk his teeth into the crispy disc, warm fat pouring down his chin, thrilled by the assault of flavours and textures.
“Good choice.”

Norval Joe

The mountain man stood knee deep in the powdery snow. The pass through the mountains was still another 3000 feet above him, and the day was rapidly reaching its end. He hated it when he had to make a decision with no obvious ‘best’ choice.
For example, should he continue up the pass and hope to find a sheltered place to spend the night or stop now and find a place to conceal himself.
He heard the dogs getting closer and remembered the last choice he had made. Should he kill his wife, or only the man in her bed?

TJ

Jane sat (outside or inside) a (bar or coffeeshop) and drank (espresso or beer). Suddenly, a (Porsche or Lambourghini) swerved to the curb and the driver waved to her. It was Dale, her (husband or boyfriend). She (hopped in and they drove off, or she waved him away, choosing to stay with her new friend, Michael). A motorcycle pulled up next to her, driven by her sister, eyes flashing adventure. Jane (hopped on back and they rode away laughing, or Jane’s nails dug into Dale’s arm, or Jane sipped her beverage and felt the poison take effect). What happens next?!

Justin

Would you rather? That’s how the new justice system works. If you’re convicted, you have two choices of punishment. They did it to reduce the prison population. Many times prison isn’t even a choice! In fact, since they broadcast the results, it generates revenue with advertising and premium content sales. Some crimes get more viewers, since the punishment always has a tie to the crime. Robbers normally have to give up their own possessions, murderers frequently die. My favorite? Liars. Why? The judge can lie, saying any punishment they want fits the crime. Judge Simon always picks the best punishments.

Zachmann

Come with me, I want to take you to my new special place. I found this little shop a few weeks ago and want to treat you. You will not believe this place. There are so many choices here that I have trouble making my mind up when I order. I may have let people go ahead of me in line to have more time to choose.
I can not believe it I take you here with thousands of tastes, colors, and sensations. The best ice cream store in the world and you you choose to order plain vanilla .

Steven

She lays in the motel bed with him, afternoon sun hot on bare skin.
Two rings lay on the nightstand. Hers is a frilly feminine one her
husband chose. His is a thick, simple, plain band. He told his wife
what style of ring he’d wear.
He didn’t make a decision on his own after that. Not until they met.
She kisses the rough stubble on his cheek, and wakes him. She
carefully does not say – refuses to say – “Time to go.”
They kiss, and they dress. She will leave her ring on the nightstand,
and wonders if he will.

JRadimus

Hell. Everyone’s got their own version of it. We’ve heard of the Greeks’ Underworld with Hades, a multi-headed dog, and the river of over-wrought music. Christians and Muslims have the fiery bowels of Hell itself. There’s enough ambiguity, Christians have added variations on the theme like Purgatory and Outer Darkness. Jews have a metaphorical pit of guilt and shame. Buddhists and Hindus have a sort of waiting room for punishments before coming back to Earth to take another crack at Nirvana.
Not even close. It’s an eternal game of Zobmondo, with literal consequences. Choose carefully: that Devil’s a bastard. Literally.

Arri

He had to pick a fork. One led to prosperity and the other to despair. But which led to what? There wasn’t time to waffle on the matter. NOW required a committed action.
But how to decide? No telling one from the other.
This is important. Doesn’t this rate a vision or insight, a clue?
Damn, not a clue in sight. Maybe from the view of others? No good. No sight there. Just fog. Mind numbing fog.
Let go…
With that he removed the barrel from his mouth, the 18 wheeler skidded to a stop with two feet to spare.

Ishtar

I don’t want to make this decision, this choice.
If I do then it will be my end.
Is it my depression, driving a spike in my brain,
purposely making me insane? Everywhere I go I see him.
I just want to hold him, touch him again.
The bullets in my gun are calling me. Choose, choose.
One minute you’re here, the next with him again.
CHOOOOOSE.
The seduction of this depression is so, so sweet. The spike
is driven further. The hammer click is so divine.
Choose.
Again that word. I see the light. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Misfire.

Katharina

“Come on! Would you ever choose one?” he was exhausted.
“But, I don’t know whether the red or the black one looks better!”
“Darling, you look fantastic in both!”
“Not helping!”
“Okay, take the black one.”
“Why, what’s wrong with the red one?” her voice sounded worried through
the half-open bathroom door.
“Just put one on already! I can’t bear to wait anymore!”
“Alright, I’m coming.”
She stepped out into the bedroom with her black lingerie. With a quick
move he was on his feet, unhooked the bra and panties and sent them
flying.
“Looks better on the floor anyway…” he smiled widely.

Planet Z

Ash was hungry. And too lazy to go to the grocery store.
So, he looked on his Pokemon shelf, trying to decide what he’d have for dinner.
He eventually decided on his old entry-level fighting friend, Pikachu.
Throwing the ball to the ground, he watched his favorite yellow lightning-rodent explode with joy.
It stared up at him with beady black eyes.
“I choose you, Pikachu,” said Ash, and he put it in the microwave.
Bad idea. The microwave started to spark, and the lights went out.
Smoke poured from the kitchen.
Ash pulled out his phone and ordered pizza.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Three, 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 Mucus and Eyes Like An Owl!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	TJ
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Anima
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Steven

I go over the edge of the trench with the gas. It rolls in thick
liquid clouds.
The enemy is surprised. Both of us are hampered by gas masks. My
bayonet slices up, straps snap, and his mask falls away.
His eyes widen into owl eyes, pupils dilating from the poison. Snot
and blood pour from his mouth and nose. He clutches his chest and
gasps to a stop. His bowels release staining his trousers as he dies.
I breathe in through my mask’s charcoal filters. I smell nothing.
I raise my rifle and shoot a stranger twenty feet away.

TJ

They couldn’t fault him for tardiness. New Year’s Day he was at work before the foreman. His attire was that of a sharp-dressed man, still living the high life from the night before. True, he could’ve cleaned up a little. He came to suddenly, hungover, nose running, stubbly and red eyes staring like an owl’s. But his penmanship was perfect – or rather, that of his asshole friends, who left him passed out under seven-foot letters, “I QUIT!” He saw them when his boss kicked the nearby aerosol can at his head. “Happy New Year,” he grumped. “Now clean that up!”

Zachmann

I found a metal box, well more of a cylinder. I opened it up and there was a creature who was covered in mucus and had eyes like an owl. The creature sat up and said “May I use your shower or at least a hose? This mucus kept me alive in stasis but it is kind of gross and I would like to clean it off me.” After it used my shower, it told me it had questions for someone involved in the Clay Fenton incident and asked me if I knew where It could find The Space Turtle.

JRadimus

He was led, still shackled, from a bright anteroom into the darkened arena. The chanting of the crowd echoed off the walls; the combined din throbbed in Plaq’s ears. His eyes began adjusting to the dimness. His captors dimmed the lights for this death-match for the benefit of his owl- eyed opponent. For sadistic aliens, these creeps were annoyingly even-handed about their ritual sacrifices. At least they’d given him gauntlets so he could grip his foe’s mucus-covered body. “OK,” Plaq thought, “so I can grab it; if I don’t find some kind of weak-spot soon, I’m toast no matter what.”

Justin

I never expected to be the one to save the planet.
HootBoy saw the danger coming with his eyes like an owl. A meteor heading to Earth. Some characteristic hid it from radar.
The Arm Wrestler strong armed the meteorite into gently resting in South Africa. It started in Morocco, and finally stopped in Mozambique.
When the rock broke open and an attack squad of alien adolescent girls swarmed out, that’s when I had my moment to shine.
With my power to project mucus like water from a fire hose, I just grossed them out until they all fell unconscious.

Anima

Shivering violently, John weakly raises his head off the pillow.
His nose is running, a marathon apparently, by the accumulation of used tissues by the sofa. Mucus is crusted around his nares.
“Honey”, he rasps, “I think I’m getting sicker. Can you check my temp again?”
This is his umpteenth request in 90 minutes. Of course he’s got a fever. It’s the flu….
“In a few, babe, I need to check on the livestock…”
“Hurry…”
“Where do you think you’re gonna stick THAT?” he croaks , eyeing the horse thermometer, eyes wide as an owl’s.

Norval Joe

One night, I’m ready to close the shop, the door creaks open and someone enters. I don’t see anyone and wonder if I’m under a spell.
When I here a wet snuffling, I stand and look over the counter to see a small creature peering up at me. It’s big round eyes like an owls. It rubbed its nose with the back of a scrawny arm and smeared mucus around its face.
It held out its boney hand, and said, “these dice don’t work.”
“They don’t work,” I asked? “Maybe you rolled them wrong.”
Man, little kids shouldn’t play D&D.”

Planet Z

The planet looked like a gigantic glob of glowing green mucous.
We built a robot to send down.
It looked human, but had eyes like an owl and wide feet to keep it upright.
They sent it down via a remote-controlled dropship.
Five hours later, the planet changed from green to red.
The dropship was coming back up on its own.
Nobody was piloting it. And it wasn’t responding to remote helm signals.
We rose three kilometers from deployment and docking altitude.
The dropship stopped. And exploded.
The planet turned green again.
We tagged the planet “unfriendly” and left.