The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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:

• Charlie
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Tura
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

I was called into the manager’s office a few minutes before the end of the work day. When I entered the office, she gestured for me to take the chair in front of her desk. I heard a heavy click behind me as I sat down.

Ms. Dooby smiled, and handed me a thick folder. It was filled with pornography. A few seconds passed and Ms. Dooby smiled and suddenly sprung over her desk and made a clutch at my manhood.

She stood, raising her skirt, and pulling down her panties. It was the largest schwänze I had ever seen.

RICHARD

Professional Concern

I watched him in silence from my hiding place.

Don’t take me for a stalker or anything like that – call it more a case of professional concern for the welfare of one of my most important patients.

I could tell he was in a bad way: He was breathing heavily – hardly surprising for somebody so grossly obese who simply refused to slow down, even at his advanced age.

“Just stop eating all that crap?” I’d constantly warn him.

Suddenly he gasped… I saw him clutch his chest…

All that sherry and those mince pies had finally taken their inevitable toll!

LIZZIE

He clutched the key in his hand and leaned quietly against the wall.
The room was packed and everyone waited for the announcement on the radio. “And the winner is…”
A general murmur of disappointment swept through the room.
“But our town won,” someone said.
People shook their heads. Then, they looked at him.
“Yes, we did win and I have the key.” He waved for them to follow him.
The key opened the trunk with the prize. The prize was split evenly between all the families.
The organization is still wondering today what happened to the prize.

TOM

That and a redwood bumper

Gail is an aficionado of the standard transmission. It is an affect of
being a child of the 60s. The deep seeded fear one would need to add an
element of manual interaction to turn over the engine in a VW micro-bus. I
wonder if the youth of today would understand the term “Popping the
Clutch?” No matter. So the Subaru has a clutch, and over the years I have
become pretty damn good at counting to four, which is on the floor. Oddly
given the slope of our driveway the only way to pop the clutch isn’t
remotely practical.

Ain’t Disney

The long march to cheap kiddies animation produced one of the truly bazaar
sandwich cartoons. A second string work that piggy-backed on the show that
was named after the main attraction. Huckleberry hound, or The King and
Odie. Clutch Cargo used an inordinate number of still image held while its
lantern jaw hero delivered his lines. Now the weird thing going on here is
an area of the cartoon face had a human mouth superimposed on the face.
All the characters had a pair of moving lisps, cross cutting gave the
illusion of two shots. And the scissors kick running, way lame

Coming Out

Marilee Demi Waterhouse clutched her tiny purse at the cotillion. Her
best friend Betty Ann Banister holding the exact same pose and nearly
identical bag, chuckled lightly. “What,” inquired Marilee? “The depth of
redundancy is palpable.” “The whole cherry blossom theme?” “No we are
clutching clutchs.” Not to be outdone Marilee returns, “I for one am the
consummate Clutch competitor.” “And I for one am not beyond double
clutching to leave this cluster of debutantes in the dust.” With that both
women jumped up in the air slapping palms in mid-air. Eyes and heads
turned, they didn’t give a fuck.

SERENDIPITY

I carry a small clutch bag with me everywhere. It contains the essentials you’d expect: Make-up, ‘phone, tissues, nail file, lock knife, piano wire garotte and cyanide pills.

Well, maybe not that expected. I don’t suppose everyone carries razor blades with them, expressly for the purpose of inflicting physical harm to others, but each to their own.

The way I see it is that it’s always worth being prepared for any eventuality, and keeping everything close to hand makes perfect sense.

Besides, after the deed is done. The last person they’ll suspect is the girl with the dainty clutch bag!

JEFFREY

The Not-So-Mighty Casey
by Jeffrey Fischer

Mudville was disappointed when that bum Casey struck out to end the big game. Even a lousy grounder to the outfield would have tied the game. Those in the know weren’t surprised, though. They knew Casey wasn’t a clutch hitter. His heroics were largely limited to late game blowouts. Opposing pitchers, wanting to go home, threw it down the middle and Casey’s home run total ballooned, though he didn’t hit for average. But when the game was on the line, the line on Casey was unimpressive: a .202 average and around five homers a year. Almost everything else was a strikeout. Mudville may have been disappointed that day, but the professional gamblers made out like bandits betting against him. In clutch situations, Casey was as close as they had to a sure thing.

NORVAL JOE

A few years ago my daughter had me watch a bizarre cartoon called “Annoying orange”. In my opinion, the over the top humor mostly relied on facial gags to make them funny. But that wasn’t hard to do as each of the fruit in the cartoon had a human mouth and eyes to give them expression.

This seemed like a new thing for my daughter. For me it brought back memories from the 1960’s of the Clutch Cargo cartoons. They had limited quality animation and superimposed human mouths. They weren’t supposed to be scary, but they sure freaked me out.

DUANE

Clutch

It’s Christmas again and time to see the family. Walking up to the door I am in the clutches of a panic attack, like I’m five years old in the barber chair and no idea what is about to happen. My aunt is at the door to cover my face in smooches and leave half her makeup on my cheeks. Grandpa strolls by doing a round of “got your nose.” Then grandma yells “eat” and we attack the dining room. The family comes together during the feast. Afterward we lay around as grandpa talks about last years garden. Good Christmas.

TURA

Clutch
———
“They don’t make cars like they used to,” said the Morris Minor enthusiast. “They run fine if you take the effort to do things right. You don’t need synchromesh if you learn proper double declutching. All these old cars have starting handles, how else will you get started when the battery goes flat? Take it apart regularly and you’ll never have a problem you can’t fix on the road. Cars these days run ten thousand miles without a tune-up, what’s the point of that?”

Yes, I thought, they don’t make cars like they used to, and a good thing too.

PLANET Z

When it comes to easy money, drug testing isn’t really all that easy.
Drug trials can be a trial, especially when it’s something serious, like cancer or heart attacks.
Half of the subjects clutch their chests and die horrible deaths. The rest don’t even have the time to clutch their chests before they die.
I worked hard on the new medication, and the test results were the same: everybody died.
But instead of half of the test subjects clutching their chests, everyone got a peaceful look on their face and died happily.
The company sent it off for government approval.

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:

• Richard
• Charlie
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Tura
• Planet Z

RICHARD

#1 – First!

I’ve spent my entire life trying not to be first at anything. First in the class, first in line, first past the post… I’d do anything to avoid that distinction.

People wonder why. ‘Have you no ambition, no aspirations?’ Of course! Just not the ones everyone thinks I should.

And I’ve good reasons for it too.

Not trying to be first and top of the pile means less effort, less competition and fewer disappointments. It’s an altogether easier life.

Especially at the airport, where being last is the gold standard. Because last on the plane means your baggage comes off…

First!

#2 – First Questions
I hate those stupid questions about your ‘firsts’ in life:

‘What was the first record you bought?’, ‘First crush?’, ‘First kiss?’

As if it matters; if I can remember that far back in the first place! I’m sure most people make the answers up, picking one that makes them sound cool…

“Ah yes, my first album was The Stones” – yeah right!

But the real reason I hate those questions is that they bring back awful memories: Reminders of embarrassing music, fumbled encounters, and moments I’d really like to forget.

Because we all know, the first time is never the best.

#3 – Better Half
I always introduce my spouse as ‘my first wife’ – she hates it, but it keeps her on her toes. The nagging seed of doubt that I’ve sown in her mind that one day I might just trade her in for a newer, better, more aesthetically pleasing model means she won’t take any chances when it comes to behaving herself.

You may think it somewhat callous, but I take the view, ‘all’s fair in love and war’, and a little callousness on my part goes a long way towards maintaining the status quo.

Till death do us part…

Or maybe sooner!

CHARLIE

It was my first try at biohacking, namely, hacking my brain. My biohacking began with some off the shelf nootropics and a gradual transition to my custom stack of compounds.

I had a level of focus never experienced, and was able to maintain it for extended periods. I could crank out graphics, edit photos, or do other technical tasks for hours on end.

After six months, I got muscle spasms and experienced some brain fog, so I cut doses by thirty percent. Everything settled down and I was hyper alert and relaxed at the same time.

Ever feel that way?

#2

My pal, Gordon, is a mechanical and electrical engineer. We have constructed and prototyped the first wearable that functions as a “prodder”. It randomly pokes a pneumatically powered, finger sized goad into the head to remind the wearer to pay attention and stop fuggin around.

It is battery operated, ultimately programmable, light, durable, and easy to set up and initialize. Default settings have been tested to operate at optimum levels.

We have been wearing test units for a couple of weeks and have discovered that a little thump on the cranium does wonders by keeping us focused and on task.

LIZZIE

At the strike of 1am, the majestic structure imploded neatly.
Perplexed eyes witnessed the destruction of the oldest building in town, home to wise men, advisers to many generations.
Suddenly, a voice asked “Why was this done at 1am? I need my beauty sleep.”
The crowd turned to see who had broken the sacred silence.
An old man holding a crutch waved a crooked walking-stick.
“So, are we done? Lesson number one, life goes on. Get used to it.” And he walked away.
The “Welcome” sign slid slowly to the ground, a shy cloud of dust lingering in the air.

SERENDIPITY

I remember my first time like it was yesterday.

The sweet ferrous smell of blood; the sticky warmth oozing through my fingers.

I remember the screams, then sudden silence, the soft gurgle of the death rattle, the thump of my own heartbeat, gradually slowing to its normal rhythm.

I remember the elation and the quiet sense of satisfaction you only find in a job well done.

They say that you never forget your first time, and it’s so very true.

Although, I have to say, that I’ve always found it a terrible shame that the police never forget it either.

TOM

Undeniable

First comes the pain. Nearly imperceptible, at first, growing in intensity, drawing more waking attention to greater levels of compensation. Long before seeking drugs to make it through the day, you think a joint agreement between your joints and the signals firing in your head is negotiable. When cycles give way to a single wobbling wave, your heart knows it is time, if only your head would listen. In the end some simple action becomes undoable and your head now know this is merely the first. You call the surgeons office to get on the wait list for knee replacement.

Number One is a Bullet
Americans are weird. We only acknowledge two states: Coming in first. And coming in next. The first being singular. The second vast and all encompassing. Perhaps we would have a different outlook if we had lost a war. Will we have, but you will never hear an American admitted it. This first or nothing is sort of a dysfunction insanity. We are so willing to discount a season of effort, a decade of effort, in some cases a lifetime of effort to being just not good enough, that somehow inherent in the American soul is a birth right of victory.

JEFFREY

Lobster Salad
by Jeffrey Fischer

One of the great mysteries of life was the identity of the brave man or woman who first dared to eat a lobster.

Ivor and his crewmate, Stephen, landed safely on the planet Xaphorus and scouted for food, as their supplies were running low. Starvation was setting in when Stephen found a lobster – or the Xaphorean equivalent – in shallow water.

“Who wants to go first?” asked Stephen.

“Oh, I’ll give it a try. What’s the worst that can happen? We’re starving anyway.” Ivor sliced open the creature and cooked it with his laser tool, taking a bite while it was still hot. “Delicious,” he said.

Stephen looked suspiciously at his crewmate, but took one bite, then another. A loud thump behind him turned out to be Ivor, falling to the ground, dead. Stephen soon followed suit. The second expedition learned to avoid the lobsters.

NORVAL JOE

Many people believe that naming your child Porkchop was a fad of hippy parents from the sixties. It’s true, I was born in nineteen sixty and five other boys in my graduating class had the same name. But, I wasn’t the first in my genealogy to bare that name.
My great-grandfather, and his father had the blessed title and traced it back centuries to Sir Porkchop Gillywinger, first earl of East Wiffypuddle. A little known apocryphal text from the second century, says a fourth wise man named Porkchopshazar started with the other three but became lost due to night blindness.

DUANE

First

Who was the first to catch my eye as I crashed headlong into puberty? Maybe Samantha with that cute little nose twitch, or Jeannie, the original “hips don’t lie” girl. It could have been Betty Ruble or Josie. Josie was in a band and that was cool. Veronica was also in a band, but I always felt Veronica was out of my league. What about Batgirl or Barbara Gordon? Batgirl. She had a motorcycle and spandex. Charlie’s Angels was not a choice at all. Jill all the way, and, yes, I had the poster.

So many women, so little words.

TURA

First
———
I knew the first man to run a mile in one minute. His bones were made of nano-woven buckytubes, his blood was completely synthetic, and more of his brain was in the computing cloud than his skull. His heart and lungs were machines, and the membranes supporting his internal organs were spider-silk synthesized by his own genetically modified cells. But I can get in a car and do the mile in 30 seconds, so what’s the point?

They say that in the end, so much of his brain was in the cloud that his owners just shut off the body.

PLANET Z

The longest journey begins with the first step.
I stood at the bottom of a crystal staircase, looking up.
It went up for as far as I could see. I could not see the top,
How far did it go? Did it reach the clouds? Did it reach the stars?
The strange old man in the village wouldn’t tell me.
“Many have tried,” he said. “But none have returned alive.”
I lifted my foot… and…
I walked over to the crystal elevator, and I pushed the call button.
I sat down on the grass and waited… and waited… and waited…