When David Prowse died, his spirit floated up to Heaven.
He waited at the curb until it was safe to cross.
“We’re all huge fans of yours,” said Saint Peter. “In fact, we have a screening of the Star Wars movies tonight.”
They all watched, and everyone cheered and recited the lines along with the beloved movies.
And at the end of the third movie, when Vader’s mask was removed, it was David’s face, not Sebastian Shaw’s.
David cried with joy. “This truly is Heaven.” So, what about the prequels?
“What prequels?” said Saint Peter.
Yes, it truly was Heaven.
When the angels sing, Heaven shines.
When the angels scream, Hell gets hotter.
When the angels cry, it rains on Earth.
When the angels laugh, the winds pick up the leaves and make them dance in the air.
When the angels tremble, the earth shakes.
When the angels fart…
What happens when angels fart?
That’s what this experiment is all about.
We fed an angel garlic, onions, broccoli, and refried beans.
Then, we waited for the angel to fart.
But it hasn’t farted yet.
More beans? Garlic?
Or maybe we need another angel.
The angel laughs, and the leaves dance.
It’s really hot out today.
You know how they say you can do something about cold, but you can’t do anything about heat?
In the cold, you can put on more clothes. Or burn things.
In the heat, you can only take so much off.
Turn on the fans. Turn on the air conditioning.
Until… the power goes out.
Everybody else must have had the same idea.
That’s when you take a moment to think… and burn things.
Maybe if you burn enough houses down, there will be enough electricity to go around to power the fans and air conditioning.
“River Crossing…” said the sign.
River? There was nothing there, not a single drop of water in sight.
He looked left. He looked right. If he was to cross anything, he’d follow the rules.
Then he took a step forward and looked left and right again. He had always been very cautious.
He looked at his watch and took another step forward.
That’s exactly when, out of nowhere, a huge pack of wolves knocked him down.
The locals nicknamed the pack leader River and crossing River where he usually crossed was not a healthy thing to do, cautiously or not!
Welcome to River Crossing, possibly the most inappropriately named town in the County.
There’s no river here. Nearest one is two hundred miles south; so, no need for a bridge across it neither, nor any sort of river crossing, for that matter.
In fact, bridges is the one thing we’ve got in short supply around here. No river bridges, road bridges, footbridges or railway bridges, on account of there being no rivers, roads or trains.
So, no railway crossings either.
Beats me why they gave it the name in the first place.
But, I guess you gotta call it something.
If it’s a river crossing you’re considering, then a wise man will take my advice and avoid the old stone bridge.
For beneath its arches lurk the trolls, who will beat you senseless, steal your coins, then eat you for supper.
For a small fee, I will ferry you across safely to the far bank, out of harm’s way and protected from the evil clutches of the trolls.
Of course, when we land, I’ll beat you senseless, steal your coins and leave you for dead.
But at least, unlike the trolls, I’ve no intention of eating you for my supper!
Sam raised his hand to shade his eyes from the setting sun. The river was
high after the late storm rolled in from the Rockies. A few lights had
started to glow on the far bank. One single light grew larger as it moved
to where he stood. Blue brown water merged with the blue brown hull of the
river crossing ferry. It was a size fitting the population it served, and
made returning home for the night possible. Without the tiny boat it was a
four-hour trip to next largest town on the river.
The man looked cool in his khaki shirt with epaulets and unbuttoned to show his hairy chest. Even standing up to his waist in the jungle river, he had an air of comfort and confidence. With a rope over his shoulder, he pulled a simple bamboo raft with his supplies stacked upon it. He wasn’t even sweating. His loosely permed hair and big brown mustache were perfect. And he was enjoying a Camel cigarette.
The younger me stared up at the billboard in awe. The message was clear what I needed to do next to become that man of adventure.
“Daddy,” Linoliamanda called back to her father. “I’ve told you before. There’s nothing wrong with Billbert or his family. He’s my friend.”
“Don’t make me come and get you,” her father said, hurrying down to the sidewalk, but stopping at the street and eyeing it like a hazerdous river crossing.
Billbert’s father crossed the street, his hand extended and a big smile on his face. “Hello Mr. Withybottom. I’m Hosmer Blanketmaker. My son speaks very highly of your daughter.”
Mr. Withybottom looked at Hosmer’s hand as if he was offering him a dead fish. He folded his arms and frowned.
The Great Crossing is best witnessed from the watch tower by the grand market. Look to the river, before dawn. Soon the barges from distant Harem will appear, a fleet that blots out the river, their gaudy pennants outlined by the rising sun.
Then all is a jostling to unload and furnish the market stalls. Not a single pottery jug is broken, nor a single bolt of silk dropped, by the time the Market Bell sounds the opening.
Towards evening it sounds again, and the stallholders close up and row back to Harem, the barges glowing in the setting sun.
There’s an old puzzle where a monkey, a pig, and a person need to cross a river.
But if you leave one of them alone with another, something bad happens.
Like the pig eats the monkey or the monkey rips the face off of the person.
So you have to think through who crosses the river in a boat and who is left together on the shore.
Me, I just sent the person and the pig across in the boat and leave that damn monkey behind.
Because that monkey will rip the person’s face off at some point anyway, right?
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
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.
Include the following:
The text of your story.
A topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges.
A website where people can learn more about you and your writing, include the URL to that website.
A recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience.
I put the episode together on Sunday morning. But, 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
The wrong words
A word from an unknown language.
Put that thing down
Horror on the subway!
As far as the eye can see
Frozen in time
Riot of color
It’s a dirty job
Why should I?
Muhammad Ali said he was the greatest.
But he never said what he was the greatest at.
Some say he was the greatest painter of our generation.
His work could be seen in art galleries across the world.
And yet, there are no paintings by Muhammad Ali in any gallery.
“Look at the walls,” he’d whisper. “Such an even coat of paint! So perfect!”
Not a single drip on the floor, not a single splash on the ceiling.
A natural, seamless backdrop for all the art on display.
Just a smooth, even coat of paint on the walls for all.
Julia liked to buy wind-up toy dogs and release them in the hallways at work.
They’d yap for a few minutes before winding down.
When someone made a battery-powered yapping dog, she bought a bunch of those and released them in the hallways.
They’d yap for thirty minutes before running out of power.
Someone suggested to Julia that actual puppies would yap for a lot longer.
So, she went to the pound and got a bunch of those.
She set them out late Friday night so they’d surprise people on Monday morning.
But she didn’t leave out food or water.
It was really hot out yesterday, and our office building was caught in a rolling brownout.
The generator failed, and the air conditioning went offline.
We all went home.
Today, the office building is as cold as an icebox. They had jacked up the air conditioning to the max.
So, I’m in my office, wearing a throw blanket like a serape, trying not to get frostbite in the middle of August.
I pull out my electric blankets and plug them in.
When those blankets blow the circuit breakers, the air conditioning will stop, and it will be warm enough again.
Jack and Molly have been together for fifty years.
People ask them how they’ve stayed together for so long.
They don’t know. Or, they don’t remember.
Jack has Dementia, Molly has Alzheimers.
Neither is sure who the other is.
Or who they are. Or where they are.
They spend a lot of time with each other, though, that’s for certain.
“If my husband finds out about us, he’ll kill us,” says Molly.
“That’s okay,” says Jack. “I’m not married.”
We don’t correct them anymore.
I mean, what’s the harm?
Unless another of our residents imagines they’re Molly’s husband, I guess.
I keep a large glass jug in my office, and I make batches of herbal iced tea on Monday.
At the end of the day on Friday, whatever’s left in the jug gets dumped out in the breakroom sink, and I wash out the jug.
So it’s ready the next Monday for another batch of tea.
I like to try different blends and flavors, but whatever I enjoy on Monday, I’m sure to get sick of by Friday.
And whatever I hate on Monday, it will grow on me by the time I’m ready to dump it out on Friday.