Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
We’ve got stories by:
A mother came to me.
She was holding a photograph.
It was her daughter’s.
A mother came to me with tears in her eyes.
She wanted to tell me about the stories.
She wanted to tell me about the singing. The painting.
“My daughter, you see…”
And she held the photograph close to her chest as if that would bring her daughter back.
“I’m writing a book, you see…”
And she poured her soul into it.
A mother came to me and whispered.
“It was too much…”
And I thought, it was. It was too much pain.
#1 – Excess
“You can’t have too much of a good thing”, my dad used to say, and I took him at his word.
First it was an excess of sweets and chocolate. Then, as I grew older, I discovered sex, drugs and rock and roll, so true to my dad’s advice I binged on the lot.
These days as I lie, morbidly obese, toothless, deaf, and mentally destroyed by the excesses of my youth, unable to move from my bed, most of my time is taken up with sleep.
As dad always said, you can’t have too much of a good thing.
#2 – Well, would it?
“Would it be too much to ask you to put the toilet seat down after you’ve used it?” She’d complain every morning, “And, while you’re at it, is it too much hassle to replace the toothpaste cap?”
Every Thursday… “Is it too much trouble for you to put the bins out?”
Then the constant nagging “I suppose it’s too much to expect you might attempt the washing up, the laundry, the housework, the shopping?”
Maybe I come across as lazy, but it’s part of my ploy to make her divorce me…
I’d divorce her myself…
But it costs, too much!J
Late For Tea
I was lucky enough to grow into the Beatles. In 1963 I was a mere 10 years old, not old enough to be even a teeny-bopper. But by 1969 I had six years of Beatle-ness under my musical belt. Sgt. Pepper’s was height of cool in its day. My favorite track on the LP was: It’s all too much. It totally capture the growing gash in suburban-culture. Story goes Harrison’s wrote the song about his LSD trips. Six years later in the warm California sun I dropped up first tab of acid. Damn if George wasn’t spot on. Too much
You’ll let me know when the pain becomes too much, won’t you?
Of course you will… You’ll shout, scream and thrash about in your bonds, begging me to stop and pleading for mercy.
Then, as the pain does indeed become too much to bear, your jaw will clamp so tightly your teeth splinter and shatter; you’ll strain so hard, the restraining wires slice through your flesh to the bone.
Then I’ll stop…
Not to save you from further pain: Nothing is further from the truth.
On the contrary, I’m saving you…
So we can do it all over again, tomorrow!
No Elf Eats…
“Any liver at all is too much!”
“You’ve probably never had it cooked right. You have to wash it thoroughly, then you put bacon on top and grill it for a few minutes, not too long, and then you drizzle maple syrup on it just before it’s done.”
“That is a total waste of bacon and maple syrup. It still tastes like liver! In addition to the flavor, it has a texture that reminds me of dog shit.”
“Well what about pate´? That’s delicious, and…”“It’s liver. Too much iron. It’s my Elf blood, on my mother’s side. I’m Allergic!”
Doug dug himself a hole in his backyard so that he could play at being a soldier in combat. He thought of it as a foxhole because, like many boys, what he knew of war was a mashup of lingo from conflicts about which movies had been made, and a mixup of costume and equipment and technique and weaponry. His parents did not discourage him. It cost about the same as killing people in the endless series of first-person-shooter video games.
When he died his collection would have been worth a fortune had anyone been still alive to buy it.
Billbert’s dad put an arm around his shoulders and walked him to his room. “Don’t worry about it too much, Billy. You’ll find, in time, that girls will become a very important part of your life.”
Billbert panicked when his father followed him into his room and said, “Have a seat, son. There are some things we probably should talk about.”
Billbert squirmed. “It’s okay, Dad. They teach us those things at school, now.”
“What? Oh. Of course, they do.” His dad cleared his throat. “But, the kids in our family line are different. When puberty arrives, they develop superpowers.”
How much is too much?
Well, start with nothing.
A lot of people start with nothing.
Then, add a little.
Which is somewhere between not enough and nothing at all.
Then add some.
Not much, just a little more.
Which is more than a little.
And maybe just enough.
Then add some more to that.
Which is more than some ever have.
Add even more to that. And some more. A lot more.
More than you could possibly want. Or need.
At some point, you’ll wonder if you have too much.
That’s when you know you have too much.