There was always something about mama that Drew me in. Good looking … sure … But there was something else. Something about her seemed to flip a switch in creeps and pedophiles. It was that way since she was young …
It was the same for my little sister.
Mom would meet a man … a creep … and within a week or three, inevitably, they would try something inappropriate with Sissy and Mama would catch it on film …
It was pay up or go to jail!
Over 20 men dropped off envelopes of cash … REGULARLY!
Why is mother crying?
Why does she not listen?
Why is she stubborn?
Why does she live in the past?
Why does she have those photos up on the wall?
The architect. The painter. The President.
They tried, she said once, but she was too good for them.
She sneered in contempt. She was too good for them.
Why is mother crying?
They never acknowledged her talent, never.
She shrugged away their stupidity.
She doesn’t care. She doesn’t listen. She is stubborn and will never change.
Why is mother crying?
That’s why, that’s why.
Why is mother crying?
Johnny was a wrong ‘un; Johnny was a thug
He got caught up in a gang, hawking a new designer drug
When the cops kicked the door in, our Johnny didn’t run
Three shots rang out, two cops fell dead, thanks to Johnny’s smoking gun
And now his days are numbered, waiting on death row
Two more appeals, and final meals; one long walk left to go
The chair awaits to claim his life; justice will have its way
An eye for an eye, a life for a life, on Johnny’s final day
So, Johnny sleeps; and his mother, weeps.
Miss Appleton crouched to look at my painting.
“So, this is your house, and that’s your dog… And who’s this then?”
Tongue, stuck out in concentration, I mumbled, “That’s mother.”
“Oh, and why is mother crying?” Miss Appleton asked, pointing at the smudged red teardrops running down her face.
“She’s not crying, Miss.” I replied, “She’s bleeding!”
Miss Appleton looked at me curiously, “And why is she bleeding?”
“Because I stabbed her in the eyes with a great big knife!” I chuckled.
Maybe that’s why Miss Appleton called my parents, but it was far too late.
They were already dead.
Why is Mother Crying?
One minute it was a mixture of laughter and warm conversation. Then I saw the shadow pass her faces. The mussels set and her voice was edged with an empty breath. It got very quiet. Time slowed down, then stopped. My mother glazes was turn away from her assembled children and toward a haphazard pile of old worn books. Of the 100s of books in that house only three were my father’s. He was not much of a reader, but he love Tarzan. I catch my mom’s eye, she knew I knew. I said, “Sabor.” She smiled, then she cried.
The flames of the fire reflected in the tears of Billbert’s mother’s eyes. Billbert saw no need to ask his mother the reason for those tears.
Mr. Blanketmaker put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and hugged her. “I know it’s sad, dear. But we’re insured. We can rebuild our lives.”
Mrs. Blanketmaker shook her head. “It’s true. This is sad. More than that, I’m angry. I’ve had it with Nuclear Fission harassing us. It’s gone on for years, but this is going to end. I’m going to kill her.”
Billbert knew his mother wasn’t one to make idle threats.
Why is Mother crying?
The mothership was less than halfway to its destination, the star directly ahead, still light-years distant. Maintenance droids scurried about, perpetually undoing the work of entropy upon the ship.
But in the most important chamber, sirens perpetually wailed. Softly, so as to not alarm the droids, but Mother would not silence them entirely. For over the decades, the humans carried in hibernation had, one by one, all died. The machinery had been built as well as it could possibly be, but still it was not enough to preserve them through the voyage.
The ship flew on, crying in the dark.
My parents are very much against Country music – they didn’t like the depictions of infidelity, and alcohol and drug use. Naturally, in this environment, when I reached my rebellious adolescence, I began listening to this ‘forbidden’ siren’s song. If you imagined these men were singing about their actual lives? I began to understand what my parents had been saying. Merle served a life sentence without parole. Johnny shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die. Hank and his son Hank lamented about the troubles booze has wrought upon them. We can only imagine why their mamas were crying.
The afflicted stumble the desert in large herds.
Their black robes like shadows on the dunes.
They stop to kneel and pray.
Then rise up together to continue.
To where, nobody knows.
Their faces show determination and direction.
But if you watch them… track them like we do, microchips sewn into their robes, no pattern exists.
Day to day, they wander this way and that.
We leave food and water out for them.
“A MIRACLE!” some shout, falling to their knees, praying.
Are they praying to us?
Their providers? We who watch over them?
Or to be saved from us?
Every week, I post a topic for the Weekly Challenge, where you come up with the stories and I collect them up and share them.
Want to give it a try? The topic of the next 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge is Get a life!
Write a 100 word story on that topic. Then, send it in an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE.
Also, suggest a topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges.
Do you have a website where people can learn more about you and your writing? Include the URL to that website.
Most importantly, include a recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience.
I put the episode together on Sunday morning. However, if you need more time, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post.
Good luck, and as always… keep it brief.
JAN 3 Fire
JAN 10 Why is mother crying?
JAN 17 Get a life!
JAN 24 How does that grab you?
JAN 31 Prowling, Canon, Everything, To/Too/Two, Risk, Delinquent, Spray Tan
FEB 7 Smalltalk
FEB 14 Pizza
FEB 21 Wine
FAN 28 Ruins, Cone, A toast!, Rebel, Dive, Name change, Glow
MAR 7 Tilting
MAR 14 Behind a bush
MAR 21 Unlimited
MAR 28 Remember only this…, Scope, Church, Melt, Fade, Bare
APR 4 River crossing
APR 11 Advanced
APR 18 Saint
APR 25 Fuming, Bean, When will it stop raining, Vaccine, Quarantine, Helmet, Tin
MAY 2 List
MAY 9 Stay safe
MAY 16 Don’t press the button!
MAY 23 Hand
MAY 30 Address, Blundering buffoon, Bunny, View, Wizard, What’s that on the horizon?, Bark
JUN 6 Trade
JUN 13 Riding shotgun
JUN 20 Prompt
JUN 27 Crystalline, Copper, Outbreak, Demure, Paper thin, Bonus, Bleach
JUL 4 So many questions
JUL 11 Needle
JUL 18 Letter
JUL 25 Can you help me?, Enough, Market, Trial, Bundle, The noise is driving me mad!, Inventory
AUG 1 Discard
AUG 8 Misnomer
AUG 15 If I had a nickel for every time
AUG 22 Where do I begin?
AUG 29 Full, Where did they go?, Barrel, Your call, Universally, Joint, Some might say…
SEP 5 Doubtful
SEP 12 Over to you…
SEP 19 The heat of the moment
SEP 26 Craft, Ceremoniously, Empty spaces, Clickbait, Disposal protocol, You saved my life, Level
OCT 3 Binge
OCT 10 After
OCT 17 Disintegration
OCT 24 …Since records began
OCT 31 Vase, Rub, Top, Spring fresh, Chime, The End, Crop
NOV 7 Unsure
NOV 14 Arson
NOV 21 What’s that on your face?
NOV 28 Square, Unexpected message, Formation, The door flew open, Fret, Prediction, Jelly fish
DEC 5 Bee
DEC 12 Store
DEC 19 Left
DEC 26 Don’t push me…, Animated, Compassion, Indifferent, Ally, Whale, A fork in the road
THE REST OF THE TOPICS
Fight fire with fire
A thin veneer
I was very young
Are we there yet?
I’ll be there
Too much to bear
The sweet smell of success
Every good intention
Thousands of years
What happens next?
The way we were
Food scientists created olestra, a fat-substitute that was lower in calories and could be used in snack foods.
But the drawbacks outweighed the benefits.
It caused gas and bloating and severe diarrhea and flatulence.
So, people didn’t like it.
Never mind that regular snack foods cause arteriosclerosis, heart disease, obesity, and other severe conditions.
God forbid someone shit or fart a bit, more, right?
They’d rather sit all fat and happy, getting fatter and sicker as they’re chowing down their bucket of potato chips.
As if any of this matters. Just look at the label on this French onion dip.
The office coffee bar had sprinkle dispensers.
I totally loved them.
So, a coworker got me a bag of sprinkles.
I bought a dispenser and put it in our team conference area.
No, I’m not going to put it in the break room.
People can be messy things.
If I could still eat M&Ms, I’d buy every kind of M&M.
Then, I’d put them in a dispenser all mixed up.
Because life’s about mystery and randomness and fun.
It’s why I did the candy cane roulette.
A basket of random candy canes.
And why I’d make a random M&M dispenser.
It’s considered an honor to kiss The Pope’s ring.
Well, the one on his finger.
Any of them, but the big one is the one most people talk about.
The one on his big toe, that’s different.
He usually needs help getting his slippers on and off, so he usually only lets people do that in private.
The ring in his nose, that’s off-limits. Don’t even try to go for that one.
Or the one in his belly button.
As for the one on his you-know-what, that’s strictly for the altar boys.
He’s a Catholic priest, after all.
The State has ordered Maria’s removal.
She has been removed from her apartment along with everything she owned.
All photographs of Maria have been collected and burned.
The article about her arrest, censored.
Maria’s family no longer has a daughter.
If you ask them, they respond “Maria who?”
And they will look around to see if anyone is watching and listening.
Why did this happen? What did Maria do? Where did she go?
She asked about Leslie too much.
The State had removed Leslie.
So, they removed Maria, too.
And if you keep asking about Maria, they’ll remove you, too.
Theodore loved the comfort of his nice warm bed.
But what made it warm?
The blankets didn’t.
The sheets didn’t.
Yes, it was his own body heat.
Trapped by the blankets and sheets.
Theodore did experiments with the number of blankets and sheets and the fabric of them.
He tried an electric blanket, and then an electric mattress.
He got cats and dogs to sleep with him.
Once, he went as far as hiring a hooker to hold him while he slept.
This annoyed his wife quite a bit.
She set the bed on fire, which warmed up Theodore considerably.
You know that weird kid Trevor?
Trevor’s dad is a hero.
Trevor tells everybody this. Over and over.
“What does your dad do?” everybody asks.
“He’s a hero!” says Trevor.
“But what heroic things does your dad do?” everybody asks.
“Lots of them!” says Trevor.
You’ll never get a straight answer out of Trevor.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
And it’s not like Trevor’s dad is some kind of superhero.
Those are pretty rare.
The only one I know of is my dad.
He’s a superhero.
What superheroic things does my dad do?
Lots of them!
He’s a superhero, after all.
The fire crackled, sputtering snapping sounds.
The evening began with a quiet conversation about something, she couldn’t remember what.
Then, slowly but surely, everything started collapsing. He snapped, venomous words, venomous sentences and venomous hatred. He sputtered spite and a storm of grudges, loading and malevolence. His skin sizzled, tiny drops of sweat popping here and there on his forehead.
She sat in silence. The fire used to look so beautiful, so warm and welcoming. But, for some reason, it didn’t today.
Silence, the whole evening. And the fire spoke and crackled and snapped.
The next morning, she was gone.
Every morning we had a team motivational meeting, designed to inspire us, build mutually beneficial relationships, and fire us up, ready to face the challenges of the day ahead.
It was supposed to energise us, and enable us to start the day with energy and pace.
It was as awful as it sounds.
Calisthenics to start, then group hugs, a song of the day and a rousing shout of affirmation!
We’d do anything to get out of it: Arrange early morning meetings, and appointments, or just get stuck into work as soon as we arrived.
I guess the meeting succeeded!
Fire pit special roast.
First, prepare your fire pit: Dig out a large, shallow hole in sand.
Next take one prime human, well-matured, seasoned and spiced to taste, and sear on a spit over open flame, until the skin crackles and caramelises.
Line the prepared pit with stones heated in the fire, cover with a layer of straw and lay the meat upon it. Drizzle generously with olive oil, and knobs of butter, then cover with straw and sand.
Bake for three hours.
Serve with your favourite accompaniments.
And I bet your mouth is watering, despite your revulsion!
You Are Not Safe
Tom knows fire. In the last five year, five forest fires have caused me to leave my home, not knowing if that home would be standing when I returned. A few months ago the three largest fire in the state’s history burn directly above, below and next to where I write this. To escape the last fire I drove directly into a pyroclastic cloud. To the casual listener that’s a god damn mushroom cloud. When we finally rounded the monster down US 5, the sky turned Mordor red and black. I know fire and I know it’s coming for me.
Billbert sat in silence as his mother drove them home from the hospital.
Pulling onto their street a commotion in front of their house forced his mother to stop the car. Red lights of fire trucks flashed in the night while the blue lights of police cars held spectators and residents away.
“That’s our house,” Billbert’s mother gasped. “It’s on fire.”
Mr. Blanketmaker paced back and forth on the sidewalk, frantically looking past the firefighters.
They parked the car and ran to Billbert’s father who threw his arms around them. “Honey. When I drove up, Nuclear Fission was running away.”
Centuries ago, I sold my soul in return for living “so long as the sun’s fire burns”. I thought that meant forever, so the devil could never collect.
I’ve done a lot of things since. I was once king of a country that no longer exists. I’ve been shipwrecked and fought in wars, but I miraculously survive everything.
Now, scientists know when the sun will go out. In less than 10 billion years. The universe will be habitable a lot longer. Some say our future descendants could reincarnate all their ancestors, and everyone will live forever in paradise.
The Fire Triangle
I don’t know the secret to a fiery relationship, but anyone who knows the Fire Triangle knows how to extinguish any fire. Every fire requires fuel, oxygen, and heat. Even metaphorical ones.
Separate a burning stick from anything combustible. Once the stick is consumed, the fire goes out. Block a fire from getting oxygen or take all the oxygen away – the fire dies. If things are cold enough, there’s not enough energy to ignite the fuel.
Keep two lovers from touching long enough…
If one lover feels smothered, or ignored…
Start giving your partner the cold shoulder…
No more fire.
Fred was the laziest guy in the company.
Sure, he got his work done, but it seemed like he was always napping at his desk.
Metrics showed Fred was outstanding in productivity and quality, but it didn’t seem that way.
“I’m going to light a fire under his ass,” said his boss.
But nothing could motivate Fred to stop napping at his desk in between tasks.
So, Fred’s boss got out a pack of matches, stuck it on Fred’s chair under his ass, and lit them.
Fred quit and moved to the competition.
And they kicked his old company’s ass.