Shooter

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Joe’s always cracking jokes.
He can’t even go to the bathroom without making a pun.
His favorite is “I’m going to make a deposit at the Bank of American Standard.”
He also bombs Porcelain Harbor a lot.
I told him I was sick of his puns, so he said he was going to shoot himself.
The bathroom door slammed before I could say anything.
We called the police, they sent negotiators, and to make a long story short, he walks out of the bathroom, flipping through his digital camera’s stored images.
“Chip’s full,” he said. “Can I borrow your printer?”

The Face Of God

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Things were getting loud, hot, and heavy between me and Mary again.
“The absence of visible evidence of God disproves his existence!” shouted Mary.
Philosophy again?
Great.
“Well, I’ve never seen your tits, either,” I shouted back. “But from the curve in your sweater and how they feel in the dark, I can reason they exist.”
Mary put down her books, lifted her sweater, and I saw The Face Of God.
“Hi there,” He said.
Mary pulled her sweater back down, slapped me, and walked away.
You know, now that I think of it, I never did see her tits.

Straps

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When I was young, my family would go to the Museum of Science and Industry in Chicago.
Back then, there was an exhibit demonstrating bell curve distributions using back balls falling through a maze of pegs and into slotted compartments.
The balls eventually formed the bell curve shape… as if by magic.
“Not magic, you little weirdo,” growled my father. “It’s mathematics.”
I pointed at the lonely ball in the two-sigma slot: “That’s me!”
My parents were shocked, and they recoiled in horror from me.
Why?
Because I’d managed to chew through my straps and my hands were free again.

Boys Will Be Boys

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Usually, the boys come back greasy and burnt from a robot hunt. But this time, they came back bloody.
At first, they said the robot banged them up good. But those cuts ain’t deep enough for that amount of blood.
The story we told the cops was that the robot that tore apart the Jenkins kid. My boys tried to stop it, but they were just too late.
It worked. Another close call for the Boudreaux Clan.
Boys will be boys, though – they want to go hunting again tonight.
I boot up another Snipeco 6000, sigh, and hit Run.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 78

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Abraham Lincoln liked to stop by the War Department to see what machines his scientists were making.
They showed him a massive cannon.
“Is there anything bigger than that?” said Abe.
“We have our limits,” said the scientists. “Only so much destruction can be harnessed before a man loses his humanity.”
“As commander in chief,” he said, “in time of war, I suppose I have a right to take any measure which may best subdue the enemy.
So, they built a bigger cannon.
And fired it.
When Abe opened his eyes, he said “Um, wasn’t it a full moon tonight?”

Weekly Challenge #47 – Glitch

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Welcome to the forty-seventh Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by Planet Z, and it’s Glitch.
Eleven stories were submitted this week.
No rookies joined in… boo!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Who had the best story of Weekly Challenge #47?
Chris of Platypus Society
Tom from Footnote
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Tabitha from Strangely Literal
Manata from Manata’s Podcast
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Kelly from Come Let Me Whisper
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
To4m from Tom’s Podcast
Ted from Ted’s Podcast
Patti from Smittygal
The Deranged Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s a packet containing at least 1 refrigerator magnet and a CD with the archive of the entire 100 word stories podcast. (Well, minus promos and junk)
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
CHRIS

“Send Karen in.”
“Karen, you look smashing today. Have a seat we’ve got to talk.”
“Guess who just called me? Steven Jones! That’s right! He absolutely loved your reading and wants to cast you as the lead in his next film. Aren’t you excited?”
“Didn’t I tell you I’d make you a star? You’re on your way baby! Fame, fortune, limos, red carpets, you’re about to hit the big time!”
“And all you got to do to get there, is blow a goat!”
“So?”
“Steven! It’s Karl. Seems we’ve run into another glitch. Yeah, the goat again. Actresses these days.”

TOM

The metro driver charged up the aisle while flinging open the deFib pack catching both paddles in mid stride. The podcaster lay motionless spread eagle halfway down the exitwell clutching at a triple deep fried burrito. She laid paddles to his chest as the unit beeped fully charged. The shock rolled through his body, but it never released the full charge.
“Damn Glitches” scream the driver.
“Look! He’s smiling,” noted a fellow passenger
“Never saw him smile on this bus before.”
Everyone on the bus shook their heads in agreement.
“This is where I get off ,” thought the podcaster.

CALEB

Looks like there’s a goat in the machine
You mean a ghost in the machine?
Naw, I don’t believe in ghosts, that there’s a goat in the machine
Well, I don’t believe in goats. Not in machines anyway. How did a goat get in the machine?
Hopped the fence
We don’t keep the machine behind a fence
No, but we do keep the goat behind a fence. Tried to anyway.
So, what do we do now?
Entice him out, you got a carrot?
No. I thought that’s what this red cape is for
That’s when the machine’s full of bull.

TABITHA

“Your hair is stupid,” the Buffybot smiled.
“Thank you, you’ve said that.” The man sipped his coffee.
Willow and Spike both rushed into the coffee shop, breathless. “There you bloody are.’
“Spike!” Buffybot said smiling larger. She turned, “Willow. You’re my friend and you’re recently gay. This man is stupid.” The Buffybot said pointing. “He looks like Angel.”
“Bloody hell! Willow, didn’t you fix those damn glitches?”
“You said remove… uh… you know…. never said anything about Angel.”
“Spike’s better than Angel.” The Buffybot continued.
Spike paused. “Maybe you don’t have to remove everything.”

MANATA

Sirens blared through the space station. The astronauts could hardly hear their orders. The defense program on the mainframe was failing. This was a complex glitch and now the whole system was in flux.
There were protocols for this, of course. But who could recall them in a state of panic?
General Hutchins did his best, gesturing and shouting commands.
“You” he shouted, pointing at Sigler, “handle the flux.”
Sigler shrugged, not understanding.
“The flux. You.” Hutchins repeated.
“Flux you too!” replied Sigler.
“No, handle the glitch.”
Sigler blinked.
“You. Glitch.” said Hutchins.
“Me?” Sigler replied. “Well you’re a dick!”

ELISSON

Murphy’s Law states that “if anything can go wrong, it will.”
Murphy was right.
Our project, the Highly Localized Hypergraviton Generator, was way too risky to test on Earth. And so we built Moonbase Alpha.
Came time to start it up, everything worked like a charm. We succeeded in creating a submicroscopic black hole. Weighed as much as a mountain, but smaller than an atom.
Then we dropped it.
Fuckin’ thing zoomed straight to the core of the Moon. It’s there now, eating away. In twenty years, it’ll be “Goodnight, Moon.” Forever.
Son of a bitch: There’s always a glitch.

KELLY

Afterwards, Sandra breathed to calm down. No matter how much planning you do, something will always go wrong. The speech was rehearsed. Bad news is hard to give, but she knew it was harder to hear. She was a grown woman and expected a certain level of maturity from her coworkers. That was Sandra’s mistake, because someone actually threw a coffee mug at her as she delivered the news. This act took her by surprise, but only for a moment. She composed herself, drew a smile to her lips and stated, “Glitches and bitches, working here, you run into both.”

LISA

Every time Thad had a date with a new woman, everything seemed to go wrong.
Tonight he forgot his car keys, locked himself out, and even forgot the girl’s address on a slip of paper at work.
But he finally remembered it, hailed a cab, picked her up, and they managed to have a decent meal together. Could the curse be over?
As they began to get amorous a little later, though, his zipper managed to catch on a large chunk of skin.
Thad then made a painful decision: no more women. The bitches were NOT worth the glitches.

to4m

He down the street wondering if something in the he’d just
eaten. He funny.
Not but weeeeeiiirrd funny. Lights down street changing
colors. And occasionally he’d a buzzing in his ear. By the got to
the radio shack he felt better he thought but inside the store the
suddenly went out. When they came back on no one seemed to notice.
On the, ,, front of him he find any blank DVD’s which was his
reason for the trip to the store. They only floppy discs. Back
home he sat down in his chair normal. I should’ve the blue pill.

Ted

A few days ago, I decided to visit an odd friend. I didn’t want to go alone, so I took my sister.
People who know me know NEVER to leave me alone in their houses. Especially when there is food around.
I recently found I had the ability to change my shape, form and overall appearance. So when my host disappeared, I was playing with my newly found powers, “Oh, this looks good”, I would say, and change again.
Unknowingly, I erected a crappy Temple in his backyard. Boy was my friend pissed!
What can I say? Glitches, glitches, glitches…

PATTI

It’s the writer’s oldest trick in the book: when you can’t write, you write about writer’s block. The glitch this week is the topic. What seething spawn of Satan chose that?
I started with a story about a woman who goes to a PETA convention and is losing an awful battle with her impulses, trying not to yell out things like:
Mink keeps you warmer than wool.
A deer in the headlights is good target practice.
Raw goldfish are good in a salad.
But 100 words to explain what she was doing there in the first place?
I give up.

PLANET Z

Our motto is “Accidents Can Be Caused.”
Sure, anybody can bomb a Uranium processing plant, but where’s the fun in that?
We specialize in lethal subtlety.
To you, it looks like someone slipped and broke their neck in the bathroom, but to us, it’s a year’s planning.
My favorite technique is mistranslation. Just a few words changed every-so-slightly, and Tab A goes into Slot C instead of B.
For you, it would mean Junior’s bicycle falls apart in the driveway Christmas Day.
For Tehran, it means a 1 million degree forecast.
How do you say “Oops!” in Farsi?

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.
(In case you’re interested, the new theme music is by Guy David)

Wake

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Jimmy O’Connor planned this from the get-go. Long before the oncologist said “Tough shit.”
For his wake, he programmed up a hologram of himself.
Sure, other terminally ill hackers had programmed 2D movies and played them at their funerals, but Jimmy was the first to render a fully-operational, interactive ghost.
He was also the first to sync one with bio-implants too.
So, right in the middle of the wake, Jimmy’s ghost points at himself and screams “ZOMBIE!”
The servos kick in. Jimmy’s corpse slowly rises.
POW! I blow Jimmy’s head off with my .45.
That’s how you handle zombies, right?

Running Dry

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Scheherazade was pleased.
She was still alive, after all. One thousand nights ago, she had fully expected to be beheaded come morning, the fate of three thousand women before her. The Shah was not only randy, but paranoid: Ever since his first wife betrayed him, it was a fatal honor to join his hareem.
The stories had kept her alive.
For a thousand nights, she had entertained the Shah with her hundred-word stories. For a thousand days, he had postponed her execution so he could hear the next tale.
Today was their wedding day. Helluva time to get writer’s block.

Fresh Flowers (Episode 1,000)

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Every day for the past two years, I’ve stopped by the cemetery on the way home from work and put fresh flowers on my wife’s grave.
It doesn’t matter if it’s raining or snowing or there’s a hurricane on the way.
Flowers. Grave.
Maybe a bit of wailing and shouting of “WHY? WHY? WHY?”
When I’m done, I get back in my car and drive home.
“Did you do it?” my wife asks.
“Yes, dear,” I say.
“Good,” my wife says. “Practice makes perfect.”
Looking back, I probably should have gotten her a necklace for her birthday two years ago.

These Are The Pros And Cons

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It’s my Southern gentleman’s instinct, really.
You see a hot chick standing on the side of the road with her thumb stuck out, and you pull over to pick her up, right?
It’s the courteous thing to do.
Courteous ain’t what the other drivers thought. Sponsors and Team Owners, too.
Biggest damn wreck in NASCAR history, all because I’m thinking with my pecker.
That, and fucked up on painkillers and Jack Daniels.
Speaking of which, you think we’ll lose Jack Daniels as a sponsor?
Shit.
I guess I’ll just wash my percodans down with Jim Beam from here on out.