I collect Pez dispensers.
No, I don’t eat the candy bits.
Even though they taste good, refined sugar is bad for you, so I buy the dispensers and give away the candy.
My mother says that the dispensers should be left in the original packaging to maintain collector value.
But what value are they if you can’t see them in the packaging?
That’s why I buy two of each. One to put on the shelf to display, and one to put away.
They’re in the closet, stored in a locked trunk.
Clack… clack… clack… they angrily call out to me.
I can count to potato
Have you ever heard the rhyme:
One potato, two potato, three potato, four.
Five potato, six potato, seven potato, more.
I have a calculator that counts potatoes.
It only goes to seven.
Anything above seven, it just says “more.”
Which is just shorthand for “more than seven.”
Just like “four” is shorthand for “four potatoes.”
The calculator only works with potatoes.
If you try to count anything else on it, it just sits there.
It only counts whole potatoes. No mashed potatoes, fried potatoes, or Mister Potato Heads.
I got it as a gift.
I should sell it on eBay.
Weekly Challenge #566 – PICK TWO
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:
LIZZIE
Lightning or Not
“To control the uncontrollable…” Diane sighed.
Annie shook her head. “What is that suppose to mean?!”
“That thing’s stumbling out.”
“What thing?” Annie turned around and tentacles were sliding out of the show’s chest.
“What is that?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Looks like an octopus.”
Suddenly, the wannabe octopus slammed the lid open and turned into a giant green lightning.
“Nice effect. Is it for the show?”
That was the last thing Diane said.
“Octopus… At least now you’re fed. I told you a million times it was not the time yet. We’ll get them all, but not yet.”
JEFFREY
Read See Scrolls
by Jeffrey Fischer
Lightning flashed nearby as Clyde and Wayne approached the cave, hidden in a nook on the Spanish coast near Valencia. “They’d better be there,” said Wayne, stumbling on the rocks.
“They will,” replied Clyde. “I tell you, I seen ’em. Hundreds of – whadya call them? – fragments, just like them up in Is-Real. And these ain’t paper, they’re what that Moses guy had, you know, tablets. As long as we can beat them other guys looking – them Italics, from Italy – we’ll be rich and famous.”
Wayne was still skeptical, but he looked into the cave. Sure enough, there were hundreds of fragments – of iPads. Someone had used the cave to dump rather than recycle them.
RICHARD
#1 – Tofu
Tofu… Foul stuff. No taste, nasty texture and comes with that universal disclaimer used for the disgusting: ‘It’s good for you’.
I beg to disagree. It’s not good for me: The tiniest fragment of the awful stuff, no matter how artfully disguised or masked by other, more palatable ingredients, is guaranteed to send me running for the bathroom!
Trust me, after one of my tofu related ‘incidents’, you really don’t want to be following me in there.
If you are unfortunate enough to do so, there’s one thing of which I’m sure: That tofu won’t do you any good either!
#2 – Comic Sans
I always sign my name in italics, using Comic Sans, and in ochre ink.
It irritates the hell out of my boss – he says it’s unprofessional and doesn’t reflect company values. I think my boss talks a load of crap – since when did how you sign your name speak about professionalism or values? If that’s the case, doctors would have to spend half their medical training learning to write legibly!
So, why do I do it?
Partly for a little individualism and uniqueness; partly because I can; but mostly, because it annoys the hell out of my boss!
#3 – Lightning
After being banned from his self-appointed role of bus conductor, dad decided to try his hand at being a lightning conductor.
We tried to dissuade him, warning him about the perils of getting cold and wet, the risk of pneumonia and the dangers of slipping in wet mud, but he was having none of it. He’d made his mind up to become a lightning conductor, and a lightning conductor he would be!
Actually, he’s doing rather well. Last I heard, he was touring in Spain – where the rain stays mainly in the plain, and the lightning is rather frightening!
TOM
Truth is Over Rated
Sally entered the Oval office with all the trepidation of a French royal on their way to the square in a cart. “Well not so bad so far,” she mused. He didn’t look up at first. Then asked her if she wanted to share one of his tofu burgers. She decline. He laughed, “Like I’m going to eat tofu.” “Here’s the deal.” The irony of the statement wasn’t lost on her. “I’ve got the greatest hair of anyone who ever sat behind this desk. How would you describe the color?” “Spanish Ochre.” “You really don’t want this job?” “You’re Fired.”
JOM
Rabid Response
By
Jon DeCles
Jethro stumbled across the dirty ochre carpet to the table where his pad sat ringing at him. The flashing italics on the screen affected his vision like close up lightning on the plain in Spain, but he didn’t let that stop him. There was still a fragment of tofu on the bottom of the screen from last night’s inadequate supper, but he knew he had to answer the call. She’d demand it.
“Genevieve?” he queried when he knew that he had her. “Why are you communicating at four in the morning? The heroin hasn’t even come on yet! Genevieve? Genevieve?”
SERENDIPITY
They say the night I was born, a lightning bolt pierced the skies at the moment of my birth.
Fact or not, it is true lightning struck an ancient yew in the local churchyard that night: A fragment of its charred remains hangs on a cord around my neck – testament to the violence accompanying my first drawn breath.
Like that tree, I am broken, withered and scarred, and I strike fear into those of a superstitious nature. Yet, despite our infirmities, we both survive, against all odds.
And whilst I survive, my life remains as twisted as my body!
MUNSI
To Make a Thing Your Own
By Christopher Munroe
There comes a time when you must customize your Party Bus.
I mean, I’ve had the thing for weeks, it needs to be done.
Trick out the engine, replace the disco ball and stripper poles, re-stock the bar with higher-end liquor, that sort of thing.
And, naturally, airbrush a delicate pattern of lightning bolts across the thing, with “Munsi” down one size in italics, and “Rockz” down the other.
Let the whole world know who’s bus this is.
Let the whole world know who likes to party.
Let them know who has two thumbs and likes to party…
…this guy!!!
TURA
Ochre is a soft, yellowish rock, consisting basically of rust. But in this limestone cave there shouldn’t be fragments just lying around. I shone my lamp further forward. More ochre, lumps sized to fit a hand. The cave walls were covered with orangey scratchings.
The lettering was crude, and I lost track of time as I deciphered it. It described tunnels deeper within the cave, with fragmentary sketches of maps.
I realised, too late, that my lamp was growing dim. The last sentence I read said, “You are about to be eaten by a grue.” And the lamp went out.
LAIEANNA
I was a very clumsy kid who only got worse as an adult. How could I
go backwards? I don’t know, but head trauma was my life. That is
until they came out with the Stumble Pad. Spring loaded with a 360
degree swivel from the belt, a small cushion shoots up to protect my
head from any angle when sensors read I’m taking a tumble. Still a
few scrapes and bruises but the noggin is good. The best part is it
doubles as an emergency pillow, seat cushion, and flotation device.
I’m thinking about getting the full body version.
NORVAL JOE
The saying goes that you’re more likely to get struck by lightning than you are to win the lottery. The other saying is that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice.
Arthur Bunkmaker doesn’t believe either of those sayings, because he’s never been hit by lightning and he’s won the lottery three times. He found his lucky numbers on the inside wrapper from a box of tofu. He used the same numbers each time.
He never won the megamillions, but he did win enough to buy a villa in Southern Spain and he never has to eat tofu again.
PLANET Z
Fred liked to play games on his computer pad.
He played them all day long.
Even in school, he played games.
But the games in school weren’t the bird games or the maze games or the games he liked to play.
These were math and word games.
Adding numbers, dividing numbers.
Piecing together fragments into whole sentences.
The geography games were kinda boring.
Shapes of countries that no longer existed, like Italy… Spain… Texas…
He looked out the window, down at the poisoned Earth.
“Play your games, Fred,” admonished the holoteacher.
Fred went back to the math and word games.
The last one to leave the asylum is a rotten egg
Dr. Laslo Martin came to the facility with the best of references.
But his solution to everything was a lobotomy.
They complained to the state until they ordered an investigation.
Dr. Martin caught word of it, and the next day, he had the other doctors lobotomize him.
About an hour after the procedure, everyone began to get sick.
Patients. Doctors. Nurses. Staff. Guards.
Everyone was vomiting blood.
Dr. Martin had poisoned the day’s meals in facility’s cafeteria.
When the investigators arrived, slipping on the foulness on the floor, they found him blankly standing by a window, whispering incomprehensible meaningless mumbles.
Accidents can be caused
Sancho wiped his brow with a rag and looked over the numbers again.
Life was too good in the village, so The Panza Insurance Company wasn’t doing so well.
He thought about stirring things up: a few barn fires, some rocks in the road to throw people from horses.
But that would certainly damn his soul.
“GIANTS!” shouted an old voice. “We must fight the giants!”
Sancho looked out his window to see Don Quixote on his horse, charging at his neighbor’s windmill.
Sancho grinned. He could use this.
He headed out the door and climbed up on his donkey.
Heaven Sent
Throndar wasn’t the best or bravest warrior.
He was weak, but smart.
He worked on the battle strategy for the chieftain, and the Vikings spread across the continent, pillaging and colonizing.
He also was good at community design, architecture, and agriculture.
When he died, he was surprised to see a Valkyrie standing over him.
“Valhalla awaits,” she said.
Instead of the boisterous feasting and drinking, Throndar spent his eternity planning expansions to Valhalla, coordinating serving schedules, and coming up with hangover and stomachache remedies.
He sipped his flagon, and spread out more diagrams.
“This is Heaven,” he said, and smiled.
The Numbers Leap And Dance
I made a spreadsheet to track my walks and weight loss.
At a glance, I can see how far I’ve walked, my weight loss rate, and when I should reach my goal weight.
The projected date slides around constantly, based on my average daily loss.
Doctors say that measuring your weight daily is not good for you, because the variations will drive you mad.
But I’m already mad, so the variations make for pretty numbers and charts.
They dance and leap and twist in the air around me.
I try to dance with them.
And fall off of the treadmill.
Wash Away Sin
Did something wrong? Feeling real dirty about it?
Well, no matter how hard you scrub, boy, you can’t just wash away your sins.
You’re going to need soap for that.
Plenty of soap, plenty of water. Nice hot water.
Be sure to get behind your ears. Don’t want to leave any sin back there.
It’ll grow on you, like mold.
Between your fingers and toes is another place people forget.
Under the fingernails, and up your buttcrack, too.
What? You ran out of hot water?
Didn’t leave any for the rest of us?
Son, that’s the worst sin of all.
The Really Real
Everything I write is real.
All I have to do is see the real world.
The hard part is, people keep trying to build a world in front of it.
Block out the truth. Block out beauty.
And replace it with the safe, the fear, and the simple.
I try to tear all that down, or peek through the cracks and the gaps.
Look around corners, or under rugs.
Turn around suddenly, in case it’s hiding behind my back.
And there it is. The real.
I smile and reach for a pen… a pencil… a writing pad.
And capture it.
Weekly Challenge #565 – NORMAL
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:
JEFFREY
Higher Education
by Jeffrey Fischer
Back in the day, a Normal School was essentially a training school for teachers. In the United States, they date back to the 19th century, while Europe had even older examples. These days, many of the Normal Schools have been transformed into typical universities. You may not even know the background of these schools; UCLA started as one, for example.
Lesser-known are the country’s Abnormal Schools. These have always been secretive, and that secrecy continues to this day. No one brags about graduating from an Abnormal School, no matter how prestigious the institution. And yet, here’s something you might not know… every national politician since the days of Millard Fillmore graduated from one of these schools. It explains a lot.
LIZZIE
A normal day always started with a nice cup of coffee. This wasn’t a normal day.
When she picked up the cup, the stain of lipstick on the brim glared back at her, a mocking slap on the face.
The stupid ass had forgotten to clean the cup right.
She walked to the bedroom and looked around carefully. Everything was in its rightful place. Except…
An earring had rolled under the bed. Silver. A loop, how fitting.
She picked up the phone.
“Go for it.”
Two days later, he was found by the river, wearing a shiny silver loop earring.
RICHARD
#1 – Abnormal Norman
Norman was far from normal – nothing to do with the odd socks with holes in the heels, the plant pot he wore on his head, or the stuffed pet fish he’d take for walks in the park.
It wasn’t the toasted marshmallows he insisted on for breakfast, or the dinner parties for dogs that he loved to host.
And it wasn’t his habit of bathing in malt vinegar and chocolate sauce.
None of these set him apart.
Norman was far from normal because he was the last king of England, and a perfect example of the folly of inbreeding.
#2 – SNAFU
Got up, fell out of bed, got a bruise on my forehead.
Made a brew; milk was off, burned the toast – smoke made me cough.
Running late, I lost my hat, made the bus in seconds flat. Wrong bus: I ended up lost, now I’m really counting the cost.
When I finally got to work, the boss chewed me out and called me a jerk.
Phone rang – it was my wife – got into a bit of strife. So no fun tonight, it’s always the same.
What a day, but can’t complain; every one is just the same…
JON
It’s Not Normal
By Jon DeCles
“It’s not normal for a dog to behave that way!” Paul said.
“You’re right,” said Ruth.
“I hope she’s not sick,” said Paul.
“I hope it’s not rabies!” said Ruth, with alarm.
They backed away.
The Collie danced around, ran off toward the gate in the fence surrounding the farm house, then came bounding back. She barked, ran off again, came back again.
“I’d take her to the vet, but if it’s rabies I don’t dare touch her,” said Ruth.
The dog did her best, but the humans didn’t understand that Timmy had fallen down a well. Thus Timmy drowned.
TOM
école normale
The tradition of teaching colleges goes back to the 1680s. Jean-Baptiste La Salle founded it in Champagne, France, given the amount of liquor the average teacher need to carry on, quite appropriate. The First normal school in America was founded in 1839 my Samuel Hall in Concord, Vermont. Not the one with shoot heard round the world. Southern Illinois, and UCLA were both normal school. Norman school were laboratory school. Providing a model school with model classrooms to teach model teaching practices to its student teachers. Children, teachers, and the teachers of the teachers were often together in the same building.
SERENDIPITY
Don’t try to tell me what’s normal!
Just because I don’t fit into your stereotypical definitions of acceptable behaviour and societal standards doesn’t mean that I’m wrong, or that you’re right.
I’m different. Live with it, and if you can’t, then keep your mouth shut and stay out of my way. You have no right to tell me how to live my life simply because I don’t happen to obey your arbitrary rules.
I don’t care that you’re a judge, and I’m guilty.
I’ll still hunt you down when I get out.
And my revenge will be far from normal!
MUNSI
Normalized
By Christopher Munroe
This is normal.
This has always been normal, and it’s the way things have always been.
Things have never been any different than this, and when people tell you “We can not allow this to be normalized!” you can safely pay them no mind.
We can normalize this.
And we will.
Although there is no need.
Because all of this is already perfectly normal, perfectly ordinary, reliable and predictable and well in keeping with what has gone before, and requires no more thought than that.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a story to write.
About a Party Bus…
TURA
Normal
———
Everything adds up to normality, they say. When physicists discovered that solid matter is mostly empty space, people weren’t suddenly able to walk through walls. The physicists could even explain why.
So why did people turn into zombies when neuroscientists finally explained consciousness? People read about it and the lights go out in their head. A fundamentalist militant Buddhism that denies the self is sweeping the world.
The zombies get suspicious of the conscious ones, immune to the basilisk. There are lynchings. There’s talk of pogroms.
Everything may add up to normality, but the calculation could take a long time.
NORVAL JOE
I heard one guy say that alternate lifestyles are the new normal. Unfortunately, something alternate can never be considered normal by the very definitions of the words. Normal means, the norm. You know, average, the most common. Alternate means, not the most common, not the norm. Ab–normal.
There’s nothing wrong with being ab–normal.
There’s nothing wrong with being normal.
Alternate lifestyles are the new acceptable.
The normal lifestyle is for a man and woman to marry, endure one another for three to ten years, then get divorced.
Therefore, any relationship that lasts a lifetime is abnormal.
I think that’s great.
LAIEANNA
PLANET Z
I like to buy minor league baseball caps.
The sillier the team name, mascot, or logo, the better.
The Normal, Illinois baseball team asked their fans to vote on a name, but due to a security flaw on their website, the vote was rigged by hackers.
They ran it again with the CornBelters, the Nutz, the Coal Bears, the Fellers, and the CamelBacks.
Eventually, the fans settled on the CornBelters, and their logo is a confused ear of corn.
I added the ballcap’s store page to my bookmarks list for consideration.
Maybe I’ll buy it someday.
But I doubt it.