Weekly Challenge – Page 90 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #61: Bowling

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Welcome to the sixty-first 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 Chris of Platypus Society: Bowling.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

TOM

I heard they have dwarf bowling
down in Australia.
I wonder how that works?
Do you actually roll the dwarf?
If so does the dwarf have to maintain
a tucked profile or do you have restrains
to maintain an assemblance of roundness.
Do you use standard bowling lanes.
Damn that’s got to be hell on gutter balls
err I mean gutter dwarfs.
Do you have to rent two pairs of shoes?
If you get three strikes in a row
do you need a new dwarf?
How does a spilt work?
Is it the pins or
is it the dwarf?

HOUSTON KEYS

Good evening and welcome to the Loserville Bowling Alley “Singles Night.”
Because our lanes are very clean you must wash your balls if you want to use them… WHAT?
Pets are not allowed in the bowling alley so please do not roll gerbil balls down the lanes.
The McKinney wedding will be at two this afternoon, so please be sure to pick up your cups and plates in lane seven beforehand. Thank you.
As mentioned last week, parties of three or more cannot declare themselves a nudist colony, so lane eleven, PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON!
Thank you for your cooperation.

GUY DAVID

We used to go bowling, me and my grandson. They use armadillos as balls and giraffes as pins, but the game is the same. You throw the armadillo and try to knock down as many giraffes as you can.
My grandson loved this game. He would turn to me and proudly say “Grandma Shunra, this is the best durn giraffe knocking we have done yet”.
There was this kid from around the block though, always got in the way. Used to go around the runaway, running over the armadillos and making funny noises, so, I turned him into a frog.

ELISSON

Few people know that the modern game of bowling traces its origins to the steppes of Central Asia. To the very court of Genghis Khan, in fact.
His Mongol hordes wreaked cruelty, death and destruction on all who resisted their sweep across Asia. It was after they leveled a particularly recalcitrant village that Genghis took the head of its chieftain – now detached from its body – and, holding it by the mouth and eye sockets, rolled it down a dusty alley, knocking over a pile of villagers’ bones.
But it was his grandson Kublai who invented the Bowling Shirt.

ROCKY

Bob Landy had always suffered from Dyslexia..
It’s his love of the English language that kept him going, pen in hand, and he
knew one day that he would make a difference in the world.
One evening, He decided to write a song.
He wrote about his love of his favorite sport. He fine tuned and perfect every
note and lyric. Unfortunately, spellchecking wasn’t an option in those days.
Does anyone know what song Bob penned that day? A simple song about a blue
collar sport that would change the face of popular music?
The answer, my friend, is “bowling in the wind” The answer is “bowling in the
wind”..

LAIEANNA

For being deaf and blind, Hoarse has a wonderful sense of his
surroundings. He displayed his masterful skills with the ninth strike
since we began. Despite my careful etchings on the scorecard, he
could tell I was cheating and gave me a silent warning. Then he
stretched his arms in a gesture for needed assistance.
“Oh very well, you win.” I grumbled taking my marker to a new surface.
“I’ll help you find a suitable head.” I picked up the ball with a
drawn menacing face and dropped it on the horseman’s shoulders. His
anger started our eternal chase again.

TERRENCE

The twins cried in the corner: the older of the two with festering
wounds and pale skin, threw up into a pail beside him; the younger
looked to be little more than skin and bones. Across the room the
oldest brother, who made the youngest twin look over weight, was the
source of the twins’ terror. He flicked the lights on, and then off
again. Raoul’s fourth brother, who was a mass of muscle, picked up
the nearest object he could find and threw it at the oldest brother.
Raoul couldn’t understand how people mistook this disaster as Angels
bowling.

CALEB

I used to go bowling every Friday night but then the pins banded together and formed a union. Seems they were tired of the constant abuse being hurled at them night after night and they refused to lie down any longer. Well, pretty soon the word got round and they started hurling the balls back at us. The whole thing got so ugly they had to shut down main street and call up the national guard. I’ve learned my lesson though about oppression; I aint abusing helpless pins anymore. On Fridays now, I go to a nice peaceable cockfight instead..

CHRIS

I always knew the church bowling league was competitive, but I never thought anyone would get killed over it. Turns out Brother Jarvis of the Southside Church of Christ bowling team had seen Pastor Willis of the First Lutheran Church of Springfield footfault one too many times during the league championship on Tuesday. He was gonna let it slide, but when Pastor Willis faulted on that spare in the tenth to win the match, well that just set Brother Jarvis off.
Instead of shaking his hand, Brother Jarvis tackled Pastor Willis and beat him to death with a rented shoe.

PLANET Z

No, I’m not smuggling a midget in my pants. I have elephantiasis of the testicles: Gigantic Ball Syndrome.
Doctor says I can get them removed and go on hormones, but I can’t afford that. I’m just a working guy.
I used to be an orderly at an insane asylum, but pranksters would call in asking how we kept our nuts in.
Then I worked for Planters Nuts. People were always calling me asking how big my nuts were.
Now I work in a bowling alley.
What could possibly go wrong?
Hey, can you hold on a second? The phone’s ringing.

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.

Weekly Challenge #60 – Razor

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Welcome to the Sixtieth 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 Elisson: Razor.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
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):

CHRIS

After ten years together, Allen and Donna agreed that their love life was getting stale. So they exchanged notes one morning about what they could do for each other to spice things up again.
As instructed, Allen returned that evening with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of champagne and a new pair of silk boxers. He was very excited to see if Donna had done what he asked her to do.
When she met him at the door, her arms were scratched up and bleeding. She smacked him then handed him a razor.
“You shave the damn cat! Freak!”

TOM

My grandfather was a barber. In his basement on Sunnyside Ave. he had a professional barber chair I remember sitting in that chair feet failing to reach the footrest. On the wall was a glass shelf where the tools of his trade rested. Electric Clippers, Silver Plated Scissors, and the Straight Razor. After lathering my neck with the badger-bristle brush grandpa would take his two-foot leather strap and strop the steel blade until the edge glowed in the dark. With the deft skill of a surgeon he scraped stubble from the babyfat of his prodigy nary a drop spilled.

GUY DAVID

The night was sharp, as sharp as razors. The dark tall man stared
into her eyes, eyes that where on fire, alive and young, little red
fire dancing inside. Neither of them talked. Talking through the
razor sharp air was not necessary. They knew there was nothing to
say, but goodbye. He turned to leave, feeling her eyes burn him from
behind. There was no turning back now. The air stiffened, as if
expectant. The man opened the door and left. The razor sharp night
cut him from inside, each step bringing sharp pains into his chest.
“Exit”, he thought.

LAIEANNA

Three fainting women was a disappointment for Magnus’s show. He
dropped the trick hammer and hobbled towards the front of the stage on
a crushed foot. Taking out a bag of razors, he popped them into his
mouth one by one. When on the platform edge, he looked out at his
audience who tried to bury themselves in their chairs. Magnus let the
silence fill their space then raised his hands and bowed. He closed
the show with a bloody thank you and his tongue fell onto a tall man’s
lap. Magnus walked off stage smiling. The shrieks were stupendous.

DAPHNE

He first he noticed his fingers were numb and then he lost sight in one eye. His lost some of his long term memories too. But nothing that really bothered him so he continued blogging and podcasting with great success. Until the day he found himself going off on a rant that related otters and Middle East politics. The coroner said it was like someone took a knife to his brain, but there were no external injuries, must have been the razor sharp wit.

CALEB

LuAnn makes the best sandwiches in town. The trick is that the meat is cut so razor thin you can read through it. That’s not just some colorful expression, she really uses a razor. She spends most of her time between customers just working that leather strop keeping her razor sharp. That allows the meat to go on to your sandwich pink, tender and delicious..
So if LuAnn ever invites you up to lunch, you go, boy. You’ll never have a better meal in all your life. But I’d steer clear of her barbershop… if you know what I mean.blockquote>

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.

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Weekly Challenge #59 – Reverie

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Welcome to the Fifty-ninth 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 Anji Bee: Reverie.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
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):

CALEB

It was one of those perfect spring days; the picnic, the wine, a light breeze that played all around us. And pretty soon we were lost in a reverie.
But my girlfriend doesn’t like being lost… not anywhere.
Pretty soon she’s nagging me to ask for directions or buy a map at a gas station and I just want her to get off my back y’know? And there goes the reverie… which means we’re not lost anymore.
I said, “Darling, let’s never fight like that again” and we kissed and made up.
And before very long… We were lost again!

GUY DAVID

She was caressing me softly. Her hand felt like the sea, rising,
rising inside me, her naked breast brushing against my belly button,
her tongue licking my nipple. My body stiffened, shock waves passing
through it, then I looked away at the single palm tree swaying in the
light breeze. The smell of sea water filled my nostrils. I breathed
it deep, savoring.
Suddenly, her tongue turned into a snake, her hands into sharp pointy
things. I screamed and screamed, then I passed out. You get some
strange reveries when stuck alone in the desert with no food and water.

TOM

Between them they shared a Dixie cup of plum wine. Unlike the reverie in the street Shema and Shoji chose to celebrate VA day seated. In the 60s they had lead the 5-mile long dragon that snaked up the broken pavement of the El Camino Real. They were knights of the Divine Wind the first pilots to land in LA after the Los Alamos disaster. Oppenheimer’s Folly one single explosion had poisoned 57 million citizens. Abandon and broken the Nippon Empire claimed California during the Honolulu Peace Treaty. Deeply reflected in shoji purple wine the red of the rising sun.

DAPHNE

Sitting on her patio, sipping a glass of wine, staring at a sunset her mind wandered into a daydream.
The sun glistened off the water as it set into the horizon; she watched as it slowly disappear.
She let the worries of the day fade with the sun as she relaxed in the reverie of her thoughts.
She let her thoughts flow through her mind as she relaxed with her glass of wine.
“Oh for the love of God! Can’t I get five minutes to write a one hundred word story without being IM’d?

TAMARA

With his review in fifteen minutes, Laurence wasn’t getting any work done. He sat in his cubicle daydreaming about walking into his boss’s office and finally using the .22 he kept locked in his briefcase all day. He just wanted to shoot the smug smile off that gas-bag’s face; maybe he could cut out early and go to the Astros game. Maybe he could just walk down the hall, visiting each office with his new co-workers, Messers Smith and Wesson. Maybe he should just put the cap back on the jar of rubber cement sitting open on his desk.

CHRIS

Steve dreamed of becoming a baseball player. But when his father died, he quit high school and took a job as a janitor down at the mill to help his mother pay the bills. Tomorrow marks his thirty-seventh anniversary with the company.
Occasionally you’ll catch him holding the mop handle like a bat, lost in reverie as he stares down an imaginary pitcher. He won’t say if the scenario is a memory or just a fantasy, but in thirty seven years he’s never missed a day of work, and he’s never missed smacking that hanging curveball over the centerfield fence.

HOUSTON KEYS

“An earth shattering KABOOM!” shouted Marvin in delicious ecstasy!
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Truth is told, I was enjoying a quiet reverie. The hustle and bustle of my day rarely added up to a few enjoyable moments, much less the time I spent with Marvin.
“I don’t think you’re serious about this,” Marvin said quietly. “Are you just using me to survive when I enslave the world?”
“Come on Marv,” I reassured him. “You know you are the only… uh, guy, who can get away with a green Roman Soldier skirt.”
“It’s NOT A SKIRT!” Marvin was so defensive.

LAIEANNA

It was the same mundane thing I had left the day before and it was
only Tuesday. I tired of my job. Actually, I was just tired. By
three each day, I was always ready for a nap. I’d stare off to think
of anything but work. My reverie would slip into sleep. As made
obvious by the head bobbing and final slam into the table. That day I
might not have got caught if I didn’t snore. Now I sit at the
unemployment office, filling out the same boring paperwork and trying
not to fall asleep while I wait.

PLANET Z

When these boring meetings get to me, my mind wanders and I start to daydream.
One time, I imagined the copier was a dragon and I was fighting it to the death.
Another time, the coffeepot was full of a magical bubbling potion that turned me into a frog.
Then there was the time I imagined that Jody, the hot chick from Sales, was giving her presentation naked.
Then I wake up and look around.
Everything’s normal again.
Such silly little daydreams.
I mean, a copier dragon? Magical coffee? Jody making a presentation?
Especially on Everybody Gets Naked Fridays.
Rawr.

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.

Weekly Challenge #58 – Cheating

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Welcome to the Fifty-eighth 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 Laieanna: Cheating.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Oops!
We have a rookie, who is actually a podcasting veteran! Yay
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and elt me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

RADAR

It burned in his hand. It burned in his conscience. But he was not going to change his mind, it was far too late for that now. Trembling, he unfolded the crumpled paper in his hand. He read the scrawl on it, recognized the handwriting, felt he knew what the person who wrote it was thinking. He hoped he was wrong. “Please be wrong,” he whispered. “Please, please.”
He dialed. He heard a phone ringing far away. Some one picked up. His heart raced, his thoughts were crazed. A woman’s voice spoke: “Time Traveler’s Lottery Number Selection Services…”

MIKE

Gerald sat in the dark, alone.
Years ago he had cheated his roommate,
swapping a winning lottery ticket with a losing one.
His roommate never knew.
25 million dollars. Gerald bought
expensive cars, lavish parties,
and constant streams of women.
Now, middle aged, money gone,
his tears echo in silence.
Gerald looks out his window, and wonders
what if…..
Miles away, Tom looks out his window.
Making the mortgage was a struggle.
His mind wanders, dreaming of winning
the lotto like his old roommate.
He kisses his wife and kids goodnight.
Drifting off to sleep, content, still pondering….
what if….

GUY DAVID

I was just relaxing man, laying down, listening to All Is Full Of Crap by Björn on the radio when my wife just walks in:
“Take out the trash, do the dishes, vacuum the cat and clean the floor”
“Sure dear, you go and have some fun, I’ll do the house work”
Like hell I will. I have better things to do with my life, like… like… things, y’know. It’s a good thing I keep a banjo playing midget in my drawer. I know, that’s cheating, but I pay him good and he’s thorough. My wife doesn’t suspect a thing.

TOM

Alphonso De La Vega had cheated death inumerical times
much to Death’s vexation. There was the monopoly game
in Madrid. The baccarat hand in Barcelona. Solitaire
in Seville. Twister in Tierra Del Fuego. He was empty
handed and one step behind Alphonso. When Death caught
Alphonso in bed with Persephone he hit the speed dial
on the cell. “Cut the threads!!!” he screamed. But De
La Vega didn’t die. His backside just sprouted 12-inch
cornrows. He looked like a Rastafarite Chia pet. Death
laughed as the instant text from the three sisters lit up
“Ok we’ll butt the dreads.”

ELISSON

He sat in the examination room, forehead beaded with sweat. It was all of sixty degrees in there, A/C turned up full blast: His sweat was from nerves, not heat.
He had to decide.
The University’s code was strict. “On my honor, I give my word that I have neither given nor received aid during this examination.” Transgressors were expelled.
Should he sneak a peek at his crib notes and risk getting caught? Could he look at himself in the mirror if he got away with it? If he relied on memory alone, would he fail?
Should he cheat? Or not?

CALEB

Your cheating heart may make you weep but my cheating heart pumps someone else’s blood. You can still hear it beating in my chest but thanks to the liberalization of free trade it only pumps the blood of the highest bidder. So to stay alive I have to do a perpetual mechanized cartwheel turning to the right, upside down, back over, and upright again. Can’t go too fast or centrifugal force will strangle me, can’t go too slow either. It does have it’s upsides though. I’ve fathered 17 kids so far. Turns out, the ladies really do love a spinner.

TED

Ben and Sarah had been married for almost 50 years. Never in his wildest dreams did he think something like this would happen.
One day, Ben received an email. There was no text, but there were pictures attached.
Clearly, this could not be his Sarah, the woman who had bore his children, who had taken care of him all these years.
And this guy.. He looked to be about 25, with broad shoulders and a thick head of hair. Why would he want a woman of Sarahs age, anyway?
As he left the courtroom, he could still hear Sarah sobbing, and murmuring.. “It wasn’t really cheating! It was Second Life! It’s only a game!”

LAIEANNA

“I demand a rematch,” cried the Hare, “Last one wasn’t fair.”
Tortoise agreed but only with a wager. Hours later they were positioned behind a white line with a crowd. An elephant blew his trunk for the start. Hare kept pace for ten feet then ran off with great speed.
When near the finish, Hare laughed triumphantly. But before his foot crossed the line, a sports car sped by, Tortoise in the driver’s seat. “That’s cheating.” Hare yelled.
“Can’t mess up the moral of the story, now can we?” Tortoise replied, handing Hare the turtle wax. “Don’t scratch the paint.”

DAPHNE

Brad was at the bar and a stranger came in, sat down, ordered a drink and asked if there was a pool table. Brad asked the stranger if he would like to play and place a friendly wager. The stranger smiled and nodded.
Brad cheated and won. The stranger paid his debt and smiled. Brad took his winnings and left the bar. The stranger smiled and watched as Brad crossed the street and into the path of a speeding Metro bus.
The stranger smiled, nodded, took out a list and crossed off a name.
Brad learned, you can’t cheat death.

PLANET Z

The announcement from Metzger Barber College shocked the country: the basketball team was involved in a point-shaving scandal.
The worst part of the news was that the gamblers who paid the players to miss free throws received lousy haircuts and shaves as part of the deal.
Normally, Metzger had high standards when it came to the skills of its students, but these gangsters were going around with uneven sideburns, split ends, and razor-stubble.
You’d expect better.
For days, paperboys stood on street corners and shouted – Extra extra, read all about it: Shave and a haircut: Two-Bit Hoods.

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.

Weekly Challenge #57 – Lingering and Writer’s Block

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Welcome to the Fifty-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 Mike James and Chris Carlisle: Writer’s Block and Lingering.
Eight stories were submitted this week. Oops!
We have a rookie, who is actually a podcasting veteran!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

NOTE:
If you voted before 10:00AM CDT Sunday, your vote has been erased due to the fact that Terrence’s story got caught in the same Spammonster that ate Anji and Tom’s stories.
The Supreme Court has ruled that you need to vote again, but those nine old farts leave it to me to apologize for the error.
WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. (Yeah, I need to get more office envelopes… too lazy to ship them normally.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

LAIEANNA

Satan licked his pen, eyes closed in bliss, then scratched out a few more lines before pausing again.
“What now?” Sydney asked weakly.
“Tricky phrasing this part. Also need a fill up.” He stabbed the utensil into Sydney. She screamed then cried as pain lingered well past the puncture.
“Done! As promised, you’ll receive all materialistic desires and guarantee that I will not shorten your life after signing.” He handed her paper and pen.
She barely etched out her name in blood when she died.
Satan chuckled. “Damn writer’s block! The blood loss killed you just after signing the contract.”

ANJI

she was lingering over a photo of her old lover. a candid portrait, taken during an intimate moment. that was another time, another place, she was another girl… suddenly a song came on her ipod, one she’d heard many times while lingering in his warm arms. she became lost in the past, drowning voluptuously in memory, losing herself in daydreams… abruptly, she was awoken from her reverie by an insistent knock on her office door. “still having writer’s block?” straightening up and sliding the photo back into a desk drawer, she replied, “i think i just found my inspiration.”

CALEB

She knew her favorite author lived nearby so she lingered on the writer’s block hoping for… what; an autograph, a chance meeting? The one time she did see him buying pears, she had been too shy to approach him.
He had noticed her too. She was plain and yet something about her captured his eye and made his heart flutter nervously whenever he noticed her in the neighborhood. Unfortunately, he wasn’t any braver than she so they never really met.
He poured his heart out writing and dedicated his next book to her. We can only hope she reads it.

DAPHNE

Sitting there with pen in hand, lingering over the paper, she wanted to write something memorable, something to make him regret his decision. He wasn’t the first to leave and she knows he won’t be the last, but she wanted him to remember her. The voices in her head didn’t help her writer’s block.
“Good Riddance”
“So Long Sucker”
“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass”
None of that helped as she stared at the note card. She just went with her old stand by
“Good Luck with the new job”
She really hated office going away parties.

TAMARA

“No. Absolutely not. That cannot be him. I didn’t spend $120 on a new dress and a pedicure for that guy,” Rachel thought. Lingering at the bar, she tried to ignore him. It was difficult to pretend the doofus with the bouquet of cheap flowers sitting at the candle-lit table for two wasn’t waiting for her. (56)
“I’m never going on another blind date again!” she swore under her breath. At least Rachel had the foresight to make sure they met at a restaurant with a bathroom near the exit. She wouldn’t be there long; she already had an escape plan.
That’s it! If I win, I’d like the next challenge to be “truffles.”

CHRIS

Stephen had writer’s block. He also had diarrhea. His condition lingered for weeks, unable to get any ideas out of his head and conversely unable to stop anything coming out of his ass.
One day after his fifth trip to the toilet, Stephen had had enough! He handcuffed himself to the desk, refusing to leave until he had written something. When his intestines started gurgling, he clenched. Then an idea came to him. He wrote non-stop until he had written an entire screenplay. Amazingly, his diarrhea was gone.
And that’s how Maximum Overdrive, Stephen King’s shittiest movie ever, was born.

MIKE

Mike Sat trying to think up something
funny, witty, and poignant. 100 words
usually wasn’t enough. Today however,
it seemed too much.
Ironic that writers block was the topic.
“Is Platypus having this much difficulty?” Mike pondered.
The entire week, he had endeavored in vain.
Last weeks Steven Hawking parody had flopped.
Now, faced with the very real possibility
of an additional failure. Mike decided to
write about writer’s block when writing 100 word stories.
Immanent failure lingered like yesterdays
burrito supreme platter, and tonight,
looks like chili.

TOM

A mountain of crumbled paper surrounded Dan. The speech was in six hours. He hadn’t crafted the “Read My Lips” statement. “Frank I got monster writer’s block. I need a pithy yet nebulous phase to encapsulate and divert attention from the logical outcome of being in Iraq,” yelled the speechwriter.
“Try this,” returned Frank “We Linger Less Lefties Liberate.” “You’re telling me to create a link between terrorists and communists?” “Yup we got 80 years of drumbeat behind commie fears. Time For a little repurposing.”
Six hours later
“Is are Linger _N less Liberate_N Who the hell is Lefty?”

TERRENCE

Raoul picked the quill up and placed the tip against the beige page.
If they were going to write him out of the book; he would write his
own story. He sat there for hours, quill poised to write the great
story of his life but nothing came. He slammed the quill down on the
desk and the blank page stared up at him.
There was a rumble in his stomach and a stench filled the room. That
was a smell that was going to linger. Maybe he would have better luck
with Podcasting in a couple thousand years.

PLANET Z

The ancient abbot lingered in his dark, damp cell for years.
The monestary was warned never to bother him. He was the wisest of the wise, and he must be allowed to write his thoughts down uninterrupted.
Every night, a monk would go into his chamber and find him asleep as his desk, head down on the same stack of blank sheets of papyrus.
“Writer’s block” was the excuse they used, until… one night… the abbot was still awake when they came for his papers.
“Oh good,” he said. “You’re here. Can I have a pen and some ink, please?”

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.

Weekly Challenge #56 – Baseball

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Welcome to the Fifty-sixth 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: Baseball.
Seven stories were submitted this week. Oops!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

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!

MIKE

Thank you, Mike. I really enjoy your podcast.
Baseballs a game of computational skill.
You must calculate the acceleration of a small
spherical mass as it decelerates in a parabolic
trajectory through space time.
This task is further encumbered as the
mass is often spinning in a quantum state
not unlike a black hole. If one can successfully
determine the gravitational pull of the small spherical
mass, the earth, and the multiple other bodies in
direct interaction, you may generate a
sudden, and violent, equal and opposite force against the
small spherical mass .
With enough force, you may achieve, a single Newtonian orbit, around the
central mound.

DAPHNE

By the third date she was looking for the fatal flaw. They all had them. Some were simple and easy to overlook like leaving the toilet seat up. Others were not so simple like infidelity. She’s seen it all and knew it would be there. But he seemed perfect, so she was sure it would be small. When she got into his car to leave for the restaurant, she saw it. There in the back window prominently displayed: a baseball cap.
“So, you’re a Yankees Fan?”
This would be their last date. Some things a Red Sox fan cannot overlook.

TAMARA

Okay, here’s my story, it’s just called “Baseball.”
Ira was sickly, Manny was thick and sluggish. The two best friends hated gym class more than anything. For three weeks, they were forced to play soccer. No matter how hot it was, Mr. Fosse made them run around the field doing dribbling drills. Neither boy was very coordinated, so they spent 40 minutes chasing soccer balls that got away from them. To avoid sweating, they moved slowly; they would rather deal with Mr. Fosse’s whistle than with the other boys in the showers. If they could only have gotten into a sport that better suited their reluctance to move — baseball.
If I win, I’d like the next challenge topic to be “inconvenience.”

CALEB

You can do this, you can do this. Just relax. Relax and think about baseball, isn’t that what they all said? Can’t go off too soon but you can’t take too long either. You just have to think about baseball and… Whoops!
It’s okay, get back in there. There you go. You can do this. You just need to be cool. Relax and think about baseball. There you go… You’re ready… You just need to think about baseball… Damn!
Alright, one more try. A nice easy rhythm back and forth, there you go. just think about…
Strike Three! You’re Out!

TOM

He was 300 and likely live 300 more.
Liannana youngest of his progeny
asked that ever-constant question,
“G Pa why do we run?”
(great great great great great great great grand pa)
The old man sighed
“The priests of baseball want us dead.”
They had been killing his tribe
for the last third of a millennium.
They had killed him five or six time
even blow him up in Plexiglas box.
Didn’t work
just fueled their faith
in the vengeful God of Baseball.
He cursed that angelic voice that said,
“Go for the ball.”
He cursed the jihad of the Cubs.
But most of all he cursed being Bartman.

ELISSON

Brett Pivnick was a wee bit peeved, to put it mildly.
He had been called up from the minors in early summer, and his first two months as right fielder for the Astros had gone well.
Better than well. He had been leading the league in RBI’s until last week. That’s when things began to go wrong. Horribly wrong.
Of course it was the drugs. It had to be the drugs. What else could have caused his ass to swell to three times its normal size?
The team medic agreed. “Son, it looks like somebody handed you a Bum Steroid.”

LAIEANNA

“More exciting,” the audience demanded, so we delivered. First a flaming ball was hit, and the batter sprinted, working his way past six hundred pounds of wrestlers to first base. If the outfielders were still working their way through the field labyrinth, he could take another run to second base through beanbag shots. A good player would keep up his momentum to third plate, dodging spikes that randomly sprung from the ground. If all clear, he’d then jump the bottomless pit to home base. Truly a popular sport now. Oddly enough though, we always have employment openings in our organization.

SCHLOMO “SEVENTEEN FINGERS” PLANETZSTEINBERG

People credit Jackie Robinson for breaking baseball’s color barrier in 1947, but truth be told, that barrier was broken long before then. Twice. In the same day.
Rufus Jefferson and Cleon Washington not only broke it in 1927 with the Washington Senators, but they also broke the “two midgets posing as a single person barrier.”
Rufus and Cleon were close friends, quite often giving each other horsey-back rides.
One day, they ran the bases at Ebbets Field.
And the manager of the Senators was somewhat of a nearsighted imbecile.
No, they never played.
Couldn’t get the pants to fit.

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.

Weekly Challenge #55 – Transportation

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Welcome to the Fifty-fifth 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 Chris of Platypus Society, and it’s Transportation.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Oops!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

PLANET Z

Norman Mineta stepped out of the back of his limousine and saw their faces.
The ghosts were waiting for him, as they did every morning outside the Department of Transportation.
Thousands of them.
They waved the memos, briefs, and studies at him, documenting the need for reinforced cockpit doors on all domestic airliners.
Others waved receipts from airline industry lobbyists – the ones who convinced him it made bad business sense to do so.
As he walked into his office, nineteen more ghosts welcomed him in.
They said “Thank you, corrupt Infidel!” before returning to their seventy-two virgins in Paradise.

TOM

Javert had known Val Jean for 20 years.
On the 15 of every month
Val Jean arrived at the border with his rig.
Javier tore that truck apart searching for
the contraband that the smuggler
had somehow concealed from him.
Each month the dispatch back to Interpol was the same.
Javert was retiring this month and
this amused Val Jean for he to was retiring.
“I got to know how you did it?” pleaded Javert.
“Then I will write it down for you.”
As Val Jean drove out of sight
Javert opened the paper and
read the single work message.

TABZ

What’s the fastest way to get from here to there? For Buffy Summers,
queen of the slayers, the choice was easy. Dawn, Buffy’s sister who
once was a mystical key is mystically now a giant because she had sex
with a thricewise (don’t ask me, I don’t write them, just read’m) Dawn
could bring Buffy anywhere she wanted to go. Dawn carried Buffy in
the palm of her hand, almost like a toy. Well, it was a good mode of
transportation until the day Dawn had a run in with the police who
said “Come out with your hands up.” OOps.

LAIEANNA

Shawn hated transportation missions cause of boredom. He was relieved this trip in the semi carried his buddies, Bernie and Tom. They played together on a set of Nintendo DS consoles, their faces ghostly lit by the screens.
Bernie chuckled over Tom’s gaming frustration before falling forward from the semi’s braking. The back doors swung open and a swarm of sixth graders piled into the trailer. They all held bats or hockey sticks and menacing smiles.
Shawn held his DS close to his chest. “Who thought kids need to play outside more often?” He whispered before the group rushed them.

MIKE

Toddlers believe that parents shoulders provide perfect transportation.
Kids know real transportation involves pedals and handlebars.
Teenagers are certain, anything with a steering wheel, dented, rusty, and barely running,
is the ultimate transportation.
Almost without notice, transportation becomes a family minivan.
Then in what many consider post traumatic 40’s disorder,
soon a rag top sports car appears.
Later, transportation grows large, boxy and slow.
You realize, peering over the steering wheel,
eternal rhythmic green turn indicator soothing your soul,
the LEFT lane really is nicer.
And the transportation never mattered, it was the friends,
and family who traveled with you.

KC KEYWORD

Ted didn’t need transportation to
find cheap Viagra, Russian sex
slaves or Britney Spears crotch
photographs. No, he needed transportation
to the International keyword optimization
symposium. It was getting hard
to find real valid Windows
Vista key-gen programs. Ted was
determined to figure out exactly
how keywords worked. As taxi
fourteen passed him by, he
reached in his pocked, hoping
to find some cheap Canadian
drugs for his headache. “Yes!”
he celebrated quietly, one oxycontin
left. Ted promised himself that
as soon as he received
his free credit report, and
his Nintendo wii in stock,
he was buying a car.

CHRIS

I hate flying. It’s not that I have a fear of heights; I have a fear of Phil.
Who’s Phil you ask? Phil’s the guy responsible for tightening bolts on the wings. Phil’s good at his job, but perhaps one time about ten years ago he got distracted while tightening a bolt and shorted it a quarter turn.
Over the course of a decade of takeoffs and landings, that bolt is probably hanging by its last thread.
Was this the plane Phil was working on? Is this the flight the bolt comes off?
I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

TED

The man in the long black trenchcoat caught my attention.
“Psst! Hey buddy, interested in something cool? I’m selling cheap today, but tomorrow, it’s going up.”
I stopped to see what he was selling.
“This is the latest and greatest mode of transportation yet”, he said with a sly grin.
“How much?”, I asked.
“500”, he said. “Remember, tomorrow it’ll be twice that”.
I thought about it. Decided I really didn’t need the cat-fur suit anyway, so I paid him.
“Here you go, pal.. Just push that button, and you’ll see..” he said.
I hesitated.. Then thought, “What the Hell?”
I pushed the button…

PATTI

Mike was the coolest school bus driver. He rigged a stereo system and six speakers inside the long yellow bus and he’d blast Frampton, Boston, Fleetwood Mac for us every day to and from Del Mar high School.
He was only three or four years older than the seniors, and every girl thought he was cute. He had an eye for the young ladies and he would flirt back at them from behind his mirrored aviator sunglasses.
On days when he wasn’t wearing the sunglasses, Mike’s eyes were glassy red and his pupils were pinned. He sold the best pot!

TO4M

After Bob and Julio’s disastrous Grizzly hunt in Seattle they headed
South. Just drivin’. No particular place to go. Despite Julio’s
objections Bob picked up a hitch hiker just past Goose Lake in Oregon.
They dropped him off in Arcata and moved on out to Highway 61.They
stayed Motel 6’s along the way east. Julio didn’t like the cheap
motels. But Bob didn’t mind – he thought that the measure of a good
organization was the smell left on one’s hands after using the
restroom soap and these places were just fine. Road trips ain’t what
they used to be.

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.

Weekly Challenge #54 – Pea Shooter

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Welcome to the Fifty-fourth 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 Laieanna from HodgePodge Point, and it’s Pea Shooter.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

The full text of each story:
CHRIS

The only meal inmates ever looked forward to in Shawshank was shepherd’s pie. Ground beef covered with layers of mashed potatoes and peas, as prison food goes it was the closest any of us would come to fine dining.
My good friend Andy Dusfresne hated shepherd’s pie and for good reason. It always signaled a visit from “Pea-Shooter” Jenkins, a beefy bull queer from cellblock A. Pea-Shooter always asked for seconds, and then he’d go looking for Andy. In the days that followed, Andy would walk with a noticeable limp, leaving a trail of peas on the ground behind him.

CALEB

I reckon Whitey shoulda knowed not to flinch. I seen Pea Shooter Johnson shoot a pea out a man’s flat hand a dozen times from twenty yards away. The only time anything went wrong is when somebody flinched.
N’ I reckon Whitey shoulda knowed that he’d lose his other hand if he went seeking vengeance.
However, the trick of shooting the gun out a man’s hand is slightly less impressive when that gun has already fired.
I reckon Pea Shooter won’t be shooting anymore, rest his soul.
Then again, neither will Whitey… Less’n he learns to shoot with his feet.

TOM

One might mistake a drinking straw for a pea shooter, but it lacks the tinsel integrity rigidity and diameter to propel a pea with sufficient velocity to make one of your friends flinch. The fathers of my three best friends regulars beat them with fist shoe and belt. It was hard to make them flinch.
We would weave balloon tired schwinns between the cars parked at Garfalos grocery pneumatically pelting each other with peas. Getting catch in a cross fire I snapped my head back and plowed into the mirror of a 43 Packard.
Blood everywhere.
They flinched. I won.

LAIEANNA

“Got one in the nostril! Watch him flail,” Bernie celebrated over screams and cries. A celery stalk whizzed by, hitting a howling child. Tom gave Bernie the thumbs up then aimed his bow again for a redheaded girl.
“Hey!” Shawn shouted next to Bernie, tapping his helmet. “Look there!” He pointed past the barrier towards the west. Clambering over a broken wall, preteens were making off with a Wii and Xbox.
“Bazooka,” Bernie ordered, dropping his pea shooter to load a broccoli head. The weapon was fired. Four kids fell. “When will the brats learn? These are adult toys now!”

SISTER MARY EDITH

Dr Janet sighed as she clicked on her nostril flashlight. The concerned father flitted about her like a bird watching a cat approach its nest. Janet peered into the darkness. A great green orb nestled in the coral pink.
“That, Mr. Totenpepper, is a pea.”
“Oh is that all! Sweetie blow your nose…Blow like this…Blow or no desert!”
The child’s face crinkled and she opened her mouth to howl but Dr. Janet was ready. She whipped out a colorful cardboard target and a sucker.
The girl’s face cleared. She took a deep breath and…The pea clung to the cardboard. Bulls-eye.

MIKE

Ted was disgusted.
“This pea shooter is practically useless.” he thought
Previous mistakes weren’t important now,
someones coming.
Ted dashed into an office
looking for anything useful.
Suddenly, the door shattered, a menacing form appeared.
“This is it” Ted muttered
Letting loose with abandon,
running behind his adversary,
Ted’s pea shooter making pathetic yet satisfying “pops”.
His enemy stood motionless, as Ted destroyed him,
Screaming cheers of victory!
Thousands of miles away, Jeff cursed,
monitor cable wrapped around his ankle.
His brother behind him roaring in unrestrained laughter.
Jeff reconnected it just in time to see Teds text message
“n00b!”

TERRENCE

Shifting Raoul tried to ignore the increasing pressure in his bladder.
Eve was sleeping but not deeply. ‘I do not want to wake her’, he
thought to himself before giving himself a mental slap. ‘What I am
worried about?’ he scolded himself, ‘I am Raoul, she should be
cowering before me.’ Even though he thought it firmly he knew that
there was something about Eve; something that changed him when she was
around.
Carefully he slid out of bed and tip-toed to the bathroom. He then
slowly lifted the seat, took his pee shooter in hand and emptied his
bladder.

TO4M
No text given
TED

Tommy and Nick were bored. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and there seemed to be nothing to do.
I explained to them, that when I was a boy, we used to make peashooters, and have compeitions. See who could be the best marksman. I also told them that the cat was not a target. “Use soup cans” I said. “or make paper targets”.
The boys disappeared into Tommys bedroom.
An hour later, the boys emerged from the room, soaking wet. Stinking of urine. Empty squirtguns in hand.
“Uncle Rocky?” Tommy squeaked. “We’re out of ammo. Can you pee in my waterpistol for me?”

PLANET Z (as IRA GLASS)

Paul and Zachary were ordinary kids from Harlem, sitting around, bored.
Zachary looks at the massacre in Bush’s illegal war in Iraq and comes up with the idea to go on a killing spree.
“But let’s make it interesting,” says Paul. “Let’s kill people we know in alphabetical order.”
So they go on a tear through the neighborhood: Andy, Betty, Cecil, Dwanitra… all the way up to P.
And that’s when Zachary pulls out his gun and shoots Paul.
“Why did you do that?” gasped Paul.
“Because you talk too damn much,” said Zachary. “And we don’t know any Q’s.”

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.

Weekly Challenge #53 – Smoke

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Welcome to the Fifty-third 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, a strange orb hovering 640 meters above SoHo Island’s Matzohenge, and it’s Smoke (or) Smoking.
Eleven stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
There was a rookie, but they didn’t record their story! Oh noes!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

The full text of each story:
LAIEANNA

I’m not the only one who sees him. Like all those goth style stories,
Death walks among us dressed in black. Yeah, he wears the trench
coat, but smoke rolls off it like steam from a train’s chimney. His
eyes are solid black, least the one time I dared to look at them. No
skull face, but pale skin. Anyone near can’t help but to shudder.
See those of us walking on the edge of life keep our distance. I
ain’t playing with that. As long as that guy sends smoke signals, I
know how to run the opposite way.

TOM

The day I set my stomach on fire
and blowup my head
Tommy’s parents didn’t smoke. He had tried a puff off a Winston and found the experience lacking. “I don’t get it.” he mused “Maybe I need something bigger.” Tommy laid down six dollars in pennies and pointed at the Dutch Masters Presidents. The clerk eyed him. “For Dad,” said Tommy. “Right,” said the clerk pushing the cigars over the counter.
Tommy informed his father he was old enough to smoke. Surprisingly his Dad agreed. He lit up the first cigar. Then a long hard draw and a deep inhale. After two hours wrapped around the toilet his father asked “Quit smoking?”

N.F.

April 20th: I commented to John that the air didn’t feel right. John
agreed so broke camp and he packed a bowl. Just as we dusted our
third bowl, a dragon crashed through the tree line, heading strait for
us. We would have been sitting ducks there. [Correction: we were
stoned ducks… err… stoned advanced infantry!] I grabbed my gun and
leveled the sight. Before I had a chance to pull the trigger, a mech
fired one of it’s missiles and blew the head clean off the dragon. Ok
this story sucks. What do you expect? I am currently stoned.

CALEB

I like smoking and I’m not joking
I think that it makes me look tough
I feel kinda hip with a butt on my lip
Although sometimes it might make me cough
It makes my voice deep and puts me to sleep
Though mornings might be kind of rough
I can’t smoke at work or the bar like a jerk
Sometimes I think I’ve had enough
Though it’s nearly a crime, it passes the time
As I wait for the bus by the blough
It’s bad for the lungs but it’s awfully fun
Yes smoking’s a thing that I lough

ELISSON

Superman finished setting the table in his Penthouse of Semi-Solitude, his pied-� -terre in Metropolis. Furnished with the exotic furniture of Krypton’s Techno-Deco period, it was perfect for those times when the Caped Crusader wanted privacy.
He lit the candles; a blast of Super-Breath chilled the Champagne. Lana Lang was coming by for a home-cooked dinner (yay, Heat Vision!). Afterward? The disaster with Lois was still fresh on his mind…
Three hours later, a semi-drunk and exhausted Lana Lang lay against Superman’s naked chest. Smoke curled upwards from under the sheets.
“Ow! Next time, Supes, would ya knock off the Super-Speed?”

CHRIS

Like in most prisons, cigarettes weren’t just for smoking in Shawshank; they were currency. A carton of Luckys could get a man all sorts of things behind bars: girly magazines, a change of socks, even a poster of Rita Hayworth. Of course, that?s assuming you knew the right person to get them.
But as my good friend Andy Dufresne found out, a carton of smokes was useless when cornered by a pack of horny bull queers behind the dryer in the laundry room. They never opened that carton; seems they had a different type of smoking in mind.
Poor Andy.

TERRENCE

Raoul slowly opened his eyes. He was exhausted and his staff of light
ached. He had stopped counting at four. Turning over Raoul looked at
Eve. She slept, which Raoul was thankful for. She could not get
enough him, and he could not go another round.
Her eyes opened and looked back a Raoul. A smile crossed her face as
she sat up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Oh no,’ he thought. She
gave a shy smile. ‘As if,’ he though and then cringed in expectation
of what she was about to say.
He was relief to hear, “Smoke?”

TED

You know, I used to smoke. I know, it’s a terrible habit. Oh, I’m not talking about namebrand tobacco. I’m talking about the Weed. Mary Jane, Reefer, Ganja..
One afternoon, as my party was winding down, it became apparent that there was nothing left to smoke. It got ugly real fast.
My guests started ripping down the wallpaper, tearing up the floorboards, They even raided my stock of toilet paper, just to have something to smoke.
The next morning, with a clear head, I realized what had happened. Insurance covered most of the damage, but you know, I still can’t find my cat..

PATTI

Finishing her fourth vodka tonic, Nelly dabbed her mouth, leaving a sloppy lipstick kiss on the cocktail napkin.
“‘Night, Eddie.”
Eddie shot her a smile but Nelly didn’t see it. Nearing the door, her hand was already fumbling in her purse for cigarettes and lighter.
Outside she lit the smoke and took a deep drag. Remembering the old days when you could smoke in a bar, she exhaled, blue smoke shooting from both nostrils. Back then she would have had a couple more drinks and gone home with Eddie for sloppy drunk sex.
She chose to sleep alone, and smoke.

TO4M

I was ten sitting around the table at Grandma’s after we’d finished
Sunday dinner. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad, older brother and I. Six
people. Five cigarettes. None of them mine. It was horrible I was
starting to feel sick but Grandpa’s stories of WW II were too
fascinating to leave. I had to though so I took my seven up and went
to the family room to watch TV. “Man I’ll never smoke – That’s gross”
. 30 years later I’m wrestling the Marlboro parasite thats dug itself
into me. This shit is evil it stinks I hate it.

SISTER MARY EDITH

Lucky Strike and The Catholic Church announced a new promotional campaign in a joint press-conference today. In successful trials, tobacco has replaced incense in church thuribles.
“I’ve started coming to church a lot!” one parishioner reported, “Especially after meals. God even helped me quit smoking!”
“What is lung cancer compared to the damnation of your eternal soul?” the spokes-priest asked, in the deep, rich voice tobacco smoke cultivates.
The campaign has been incorporated into the liturgy, as well. “This sermon brought to you by Lucky Strike; Celebrate the bounty of God’s goodness with the smooth, full-flavored taste of American tobacco.”

PLANET Z

Let me tell you about economics, kid.
You see, unlike the stores in the city, there aren’t any Federal taxes out on the reservation.
So, once a month, we drive to the Pokalottas for cheap smokes and booze.
Whatever we save, we blow twenty times that at the casino.
Then, while we’re worrying about out how we’ll pay for that bike you keep bitching about or cover the mortgage, we smoke up all those cigarettes and drink all the cheap liquor we bought.
And that’s why Economics is a bitch.
So, lay off Santa, and put that fucking sweater on.

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.

Weekly Challenge #52 – Cats (First Anniversary)

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Welcome to the Fifty-second 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 Tom of the Footnote Podcast, and it’s Cats.
Eight stories were submitted this week. Only single digits. Sad face!
No rookies are in the mix… boo!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as 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):

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)
A Geeklabel.com gift certificate will be tossed in to the mix. Being first sometimes helps, so this week’s vote counts a lot.
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:
PLANET Z

While I’m at work, I can watch our cats on a set of webcams I’ve set up.
Is there a cat in my chair?
Is there a cat by the back window?
Is there a cat playing with the pile of toys?
When I get too busy to watch it real-time, I go back through the archives.
Some people call this obsessive behavior, but it’s nothing compared to all the other people watching our cats.
Sometimes, I get an instant message from them, telling me what my own cats are doing.
Our cats are Internet famous, and they have groupies.

TOM

Her head dangled over the edge of the bed. That can’t be comfortable. He puts her legs and hips upwards and back. Her eyes telegraphed question. He stared back firmly allowing no room for doubt an assurance he only acting on her behest. For one whole minute she accepted this new position. Then is a nearly perceivable motion she readjusted every muscle in her body. This action wasn’t a matter of fine tuning comfort. It was a means of reclaiming absolute supremacy and clearly informing him it wasn’t what she wanted. Sleeping with a cat is a battle of wills.

LAIEANNA

A variety of creatures have hung around our house: mice, chipmunks, birds, squirrels, raccoons, rabbits, ducks, and cats. One night during dinner on the couch, we spotted a fluffy gray visitor walking nearby. My hubby decided to feed the cat while the dogs and I watched from the window. He took his leftover piece of pork outside and called to the cat. When it refused, he chucked the meat, not trying to hit the cat, of course, but ended up scaring it off rather than helping. We occasionally reminisce about the newly named Porkchop and a good deed gone wrong.

SISTER MARY EDITH

Cats come to harm on Curiosity Farm.
Whiskers succumbed on route 151,
Kit felt the wrath of the birder’s gun,
Midnight froze up from a brown recluse bite,
Tiger took on a raccoon in a fight.
One year in spring with the thawing of snow,
We found Mrs. Mittens where the nightshades grow,
Max chased mice into the bailer,
Otherwise known as the kitty de-tailer,
Mean Mr. Blacky just never came back,
Though that spring, back in town, all the kittens were black.
Today we found Mitsie, curled up in a log,
Perhaps we should think about getting a dog.

RAHEL

She walked to the park bench. Opening her bag, she took out two bowls, filling one with cat food and the other with water from the fountain. Then she sat down to wait.
Ah, there he was! Sleek, soft and black, his silver collar glittering in the sunlight. Surely his people wouldn’t mind the extra breakfast she gave him.
Sure enough, he smelled the food and came over to her. She smiled as he rubbed her ankles and then fell to.
Friday the Thirteenth, and a black cat had crossed her path. This was going to be her lucky day.

TERRENCE

It had not taken Raoul’s father long to settle in. He had managed to
get the brimstone wholesale and that had saved them a ton. Soon they
had their first visitor and it didn’t take long for the place to start
to fill up.
Trouble started when the first fur ball showed up. On it’s own it was
only enough to upset Cerberus, but when the second one showed up all
hell broke loose. That was when Raoul’s father decided to send the
creature back. At the time, he thought nine lives would be enough to
keep the cats away.

TO4M

At the breakfast table Mildred set out the plates for the morning
meal. As she sat down with everybody Mildred felt a pang of emptiness.
Although the family was eating away hungrily no one spoke. Trying to
ease her inner tension she asked Alfred how his week had gone. He
didn’t say a word. “Did anyone do anything exciting this week?” No
one spoke. “You Bastards you only come to me when you want food. I
give you food and what do I get back? NOTHING! GODDAM YOU ALL” With
all the yelling the cats scattered from the kitchen.

TED

It didn’t begin till later in life. Oh, I’d say I was 27 or 28 before I really saw the beauty of the Holidays.
Easter for instance. You take plain ordinary eggs, dip them into food color based dye, and at once, you have a beautiful creation.
A few years back, when my kids were doing the preparation for Easter Morning, Our cat, Dingleberry jumped up on the table, knocked over all of the coloring crap, and walked away 9 different shades of Easter..
Ever since, It has been a tradition in our family. And I know the cat loves it too. Here kitty-kitty-kitty-kitty…

PATTI

Grandpa John lived alone in Brooklyn with his beloved cat, Lewis. When Lewis died, Grandpa John wept and told us how he buried Lewis in the park near his apartment.
Eight months later, Grandpa John died. We flew to New York and hired a cleaning team to help clear out the apartment. They started in the kitchen. It wasn’t long before we heard the frantic screams followed by running feet and the slam of the front door.
The refrigerator door was wide open. Inside, Lewis was lying on the shelf. Apparently, Grandpa John couldn’t say goodbye to Lewis after all.

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.

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #61?
	Tom from Footnote
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Guy David of The Sixteenth
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Rocky Torok from YP.com
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
	Terrence from Never Was
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
	Chris from Platypus Society
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z

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Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #60?
	Chris from Platypus Society
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Guy David of The Sixteenth
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club

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Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #59?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Guy David from Sixteenth
	Tom from Footnote
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Tamara from Going Broke
	Chris from Platypus Society
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z

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Who had the best stories of Weekly Challenge #58?
	Mike of Mike Thinks
	Guy David from Sixteenth
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Radar from SL Under The Radar
	The Seriously Deranged Scribe of Planet Z

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Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #57? (UPDATED)
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Anji Bee of Unwind (among others)
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Tamara from Going Broke
	Chris from Platypus Society
	Mike James from Mike Thinks
	Tom from Footnote
	Terrence form Never Was
	Planet Z

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Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #56?
	Mike of Mike Thinks
	Daphne Abernathy of Going Broke
	Tamara Kirshner of Going Broke
	Caleb Bullen from Black Tie Martini Club
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
	Planet Z

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Who had the best story for Weekly Challenge #53?
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	N.F.
	Caleb Bullen from Black Tie Martini Club
	Elisson of Blog d’Elisson
	Chris from Platypus Society
	Terrence from Never Was
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	Patti from SmittyGal
	To4m from StuffCast
	Sister Mary Edith
	Planet Z

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Which was the best of Weekly Challenge 52?
	Planet Z
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
	Sister Mary Edith
	Rahel from Elms In The Yard
	Terrence from Never Was
	To4m from Stuffcast
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	Patti the SmittyGal

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