The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Thirty-Eight, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was Chip.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

• David
• Thomas
• Jeffrey
• Tom
• Serendipidy Haven
• Tura
• Pau
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Lizzie
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Norval Joe
• RedGoddess
• Planet Z

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of circle.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

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DAVID

“Hey, Chip, are you about ready to leave?” I asked.
“Well, have you picked up the chips and dip yet?” he challenged back.
Soon, we’d head to the 32nd annual poker championship to be held at the Community Center. They’d be serving chipped beef again, but I was signed to bring snacks for the affair.
“Let’s stop at Quik-Ez on the way.” I did not want to be late again this year. This charity event was somewhat competitive. Whomever has the biggest stack of chips at the end of the night was declared Poker King until next year’s contest.

THOMAS

The computer chip they implanted deep into Tiddbitt’s brain managed and controlled everything, except his impulsivity. His excoriating editorials, ranging from lengthy diatribes about organized sports to excessive city spending, sent to the local weekly news, were carefully crafted, but highly disturbing to the majority of the newspaper’s readers. The senior editor stopped publishing them and he implored Tiddbitt not to write any more, and if he Tweeted them, or blogged them, to please tone it down. Readers were burning municipal vehicles, smashing bank windows, attacking city council members, throwing bricks at public workers, and flipping the bird at clergymen.

##

She chipped her tooth during a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking. Dating the Master At Arms of the Hell’s Angels had some benefits, but the downside was the rough handling, and group sex, along with frequent dealings with CHIPs on the California highways. When Shelli saw Sister Elizabeth-Rose double-dipping chips at the buffet table, she shouted at her. Shelli was not shy about embarrassing folks that scorned basic etiquette and sanitation rules at parties or weddings. Her boyfriend, Hardi Bigcup, had her back. Today, reaching her nader, she works as an oil changer and lubes chassis part time at Walmart.

JEFFREY

Second Chances
by Jeffrey Fischer

Marvin popped a chip in his mouth and reached for the remote control. *Flick.* Division I-AA football. Nah. *Flick.* Home shopping. *Flick.* Talking heads, yelling at each other about politics. *Flick.* An action movie – Stallone? Willis? He couldn’t tell, and it really didn’t matter. Something was exploding on the screen, and that was enough for Marvin.

He ate another chip, a large, irregularly-shaped one. It caught in his throat and Marvin began choking. He saw his life flash before his eyes, all the bad decisions in a lifetime full of them. He sputtered twice and dislodged the stuck piece. As he gulped air, he realized he had been given a second chance. He would make the most of it.

Marvin flicked the remote, settling on a rerun of Happy Days. He popped a chip in his mouth and munched.

TOM

When I was a child television was littered with function fathers. Robert Young, Carl Betz, Fred McMurray. Oddly these actors made their chops playing pretty heavy weight characters. From the coldblooded killer in Double Indemnity to the bachelor engineer in My Three Sons. Fred McMurray traveled the greatest distance from cad to kind. The central theme of that show was no girls, a house of men, total testosterogen. I grew-up in a household with five sisters, a mom and her mom. That’s seven women, one more than Louisa May shoved into her novel. Tuning into the boy’s club was comforting

#

The youngest son in that house was named Chip. In my vast collection of people’s named not a single one was addressed formally or in, as Chip. I came from a blue-collar world where everyone had biblical names: John, James, Ben, Isaac. Chip, in my world, parents didn’t use verbs as names. I knew something was happening; I was clueless that the writes had blown a cultural dog whistle. Chip wasn’t blue-collar. Chip was Ivy League. He was meant to go to school with guys named Hunter. Ironically Chip ended up in a teen marriage, totally cautionary, totally 70s.

SARAH

Our obsession with miniaturisation is something I’ve never understood – ever since the microchip was invented we’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to squeeze ever more complexity into ever-smaller spaces.

Why do we do it?

Surely, bigger is better?

Take my new idea – the maxi-chip – all of three inches square… imagine much processing power you can fit on that!

We’d have computers a hundred times faster and so much more powerful, with only a tiny increase in overall size!

Why stop there?

How about the mega-chip – a full six-inch monster!

Look out Silicon Valley – here I come!

TURA

We’re taking Timmy for his regular exocortex upgrade. They’ll pull out the chip, garbage-collect the memory, and update the software with age-appropriate skills.

It’s a bit disorienting, but they get over it. We’ll keep him off school a few days, while he learns to be himself again. You can’t have the other children suddenly wondering who their friend is. They get afraid of being upgraded themselves.

Some parents get all sorts of black market stuff put in, like intelligence boosts, or religion. Who wants a child smarter than they are, or doesn’t think this is the best country on Earth?

PAU

Congratulations – repeated the boss to the employee looking into his eyes.
He could not believe it. His boss had entered the office this morning saying “Good morning“ with a wide smile and then he had addressed to Tony to admire his report that was successfully submitted to the Board.
But immediately Tony suspected, after seeing that the screw on the boss’ left ear was loose, and then a drop of oil fell to the ground.
Tony had no doubt and quickly called the Head of Maintenance: the boss’ chip had broken again.

MUNSI

Chipper

By Christopher Munroe

I was being extraordinarily reasonable.

I didn’t raise my voice, I wasn’t rude, I simply explained that the first time I put a guy into the wood-chipper I’d bought, it jammed, and asked for a refund.

Jerry, behind the counter, explained that the wood-chipper was meant to chip wood, and since I’d misused the hardware no refund would be forthcoming.

Chip wood?

What part of my life as a hired murderer would lead me to need chipped wood?

Still, nothing I could do, so I bought another, sturdier wood-chipper at a rival store.

This weekend, I’ll demonstrate it to Jerry…

ZACKMANN

Chip chips away at the stone as he finishes a sculpture with a chip on
his shoulder.
“Stand still or I will chip your tooth.” says Chip.
The model replies “As a Chip and Dale dancer, I can’t have that even
in my facsimile.”
Chip says “Don’t be too chipper since I would have to charge double
for chipping on a Sunday.”
The dancer replies “After being hit in the mouth in a Paris bar fight,
I found overseas chipping to be the worst.”
“Have a look, so much like you that it is a chip of the old block”

LIZZIE

“Integrated circuit developed to feed the population of the world” that is how it was advertised. It would chip away until the problem of hunger was solved. Companies of the whole world chipped in eager to make immeasurable profits. But when the chips were down and colossal amounts of money were needed, there was no agreement. The usual chip on the shoulder attitude took over and major investors tried to steal the blueprint of this promising product from the creator. Adding to famine, a world war broke out. Apparently the new human race was a chip off the old block.

CLIFF

My guide explained that many things in Merry Old had different names. When he picked me up at the airport, he put my luggage in the boot. He gave me a ride to my rented flat, taking the lift up to the third floor. At the pub, we ordered a pint of stout and chips. I saw bags of chips behind the counter, but they were crisps. Cookies were biscuits, women were birds, the bathroom was the alley, and a friendly greeting in a pub was “Hello, you big sissy.” I think my guide is a bit of a joker.

#####

When Lucy looked down at the baby, she wasn’t surprised. Somehow, she had known the child would not be beautiful. Hopefully, the boy would grow out of it and take after his mother but Lucy wasn’t about to start taking bets on that. The infant had tiny eyes and a big round head. His hair was dark, but, for his sake, Lucy hoped his mother’s red hair and good looks would kick in eventually. She looked up at the proud father.
“Well, Chuck, I don’t know what to say. It looks like he’s a chip of the old block head.”

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Chip

Mirella started her new “Chip n Chow” diet.
She was to trade poker chips for food.

Staring at the bag of ketchup chips, she salivated.
She contemplated digging in. Imagining a sweet n salty chip melt in a crumble upon her tongue.
“I only had a salad and cup of tea so far today.”

She rationalized and calculated. The remaining chips would cover eating the entire bag of sin. It seemed like a fair trade off to her, although the salty treat was not on the list of approved foods.

She decided to “let the chips fall where they may!”

chip chip chip

Taylor was impatient for answers about life. He started his journey of discovery.

Chip…chip…chip…”Excuse me old man is this the path to the ancient monk’s temple?
The old man continued patiently chipping away at the stone.

Fine!

He found the head monk in the great temple in the mountains. His other questions forgotten, the only query at the top of his mind was to ask about the rude old monk, chipping away at the mountain pass.

Smiling he replied, “do not know of this gentleman you speak of. Only know young impatient monk left at mountain wall many years ago.”

chip off the ole block

Pepe moved back in with his parents and vowed to clean up his act.
He now accepted the fact that he was a chip off the Pablo block.
Why fight it?

Speaking of fighting, Pepe wondered what his dad was going to do when
he finds out that the cute woodle (part wheaton, part poodle), bubbles was preggers.

He realized that issue would have to wait, word spread throughout the neighborhood
Poor Pablo has gone missing. A distraught Espy called an emergency meeting after
a very mean looking Colonel Meow informed her that Pablo was being “entertained” by the Chairman.

NORVAL JOE

Hours passed and the company waited in a silent circle some distance from the elf prince.
Elbonor sat on the ground, cross-legged, before the crumbled pile of stone. His eyes were closed and he hummed quietly to himself.
“Why is he just sitting there? He needs to get the way-stone back together?”
Owen asked.
“He’s learning how it was destroyed,” Shareeka said. “If it is not put back, chip by chip, as it was disassembled, the stone will not work.”
“What happens if the village goblins return before it gets rebuilt?” Owen asked.
“That would be a problem,” Shareeka said.

REDGODDESS

Lola barely moved since being released from the hospital. Her injuries from the assault are slowly healing, physically. She decides to take a weekend shift at the hotel to distract her from this new lazy life of television. Besides, she really wants to check on one of her year round guests. Her week as a shut-in triggered just how sad things must be for Mr. Chip; especially with his widow’s birthday coming, he just hasn’t been himself. Lola’s instincts are seldom wrong, but when she sees the coroner in front of the hotel her heart sinks. Mr. Chip had enough.

PLANET Z

My favorite flavor of ice cream used to be mint chocolate chip ice cream. But I don’t eat it anymore.

One night, I left the lid on the table, and while I was eating the ice cream, my cat Piper jumped up on the table, and she licked the lid clean.

For years, I bought mint chocolate chip ice cream, left the lid on the table, and we’d share it together.

Then she died.

The next time I bought ice cream, I left the lid on the table, and just sat there, staring at it.

I buy frozen yogurt now.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Thirty-Seven, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was Football.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Thomas
• Serendipidy Haven
• Lizzie
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Chris the Nuclear Kid
• Steven the Nuclear Man
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z
• RedGoddess

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of chip.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

---

TOM

Sports are seasonal; so, when the leaves fall it is time to get the old pig skin out. Well, by now Spalding is using some synthetic polymer; though I do hear the NFL balls are the real deal. As if a 10 year old could afford a NFL ball. No we settle for a Charlie Brown football and by proxy a Charlie Brown dilemma. In the past Luce pulls away the ball at the moment of contact you get lay out staring at the sky. So you hold her to a promise hoping that internal integrity will rise with maturity.

#

You run, you kick, you sail through the air, you hit the ground, you staring up at the azure sky, you remember you’re a cartoon character who has been 10 years old for 60 years. The question of milestone development markers becomes as mote as a Harvard Law School Debate. Further she has never failed to hover over you mocking your hyper developed embrace of trust. Are you spectator in the Allegory of the Cave or have you spend the last half century in a syndicated Skinner box. Quietly you muse over the tale of the Turtle and the Scorpion

JEFFREY

I had always wanted to be a football star. Too small for any other position, I set my sights on being the place kicker. Sadly, I was no good. My kicks had no distance. Every team cut me like lunchmeat at a deli.

Then came the space program. I was an astronaut, selected to be on the permanently-manned space city in high Earth orbit. One day we decided to form a football team, playing in space suits, not pads, and using the length of the station as our “field”. Perfect, I thought, low gravity. I was the kicker, of course.

Our one and only game came down to two seconds, my team behind by one, 90 yards to go. They called me in. I caught the ball cleanly with my foot and watched the ball sail on and on. With almost no gravity to stop it, the ball might have carried on forever. Sadly, I had forgotten we were in a gravity well. The ball hooked left and headed for Earth, missing the goal post badly before burning up during re-entry. Game over.

THOMAS

I abhor football. Moreover, it is a total waste of time to either watch or follow on and off field antics of overpaid mercenaries. If it were not for the violence and brain-rattling encounters, most of the people that watch it would find something productive to do. The same for auto racing, cage fights, and boxing. I learned very early that football was for pinheads and large clods that liked to break things, act violently and snap towels at each other’s buttocks in the locker room. A gentleman does not attend games, nor does he buy seven dollar hot dogs.

#

Football is a manly man’s sport. I bought a season ticket instead of getting the washing machine fixed. Little Bobbie and Jennifer can wear my old t-shirts to school instead of getting new clothes this year! I’ve been betting on games, and when I sit in the den wearing my jersey, shoulder pads and helmet, eating Cheetos and drinking beer, I am only despondent for a moment about my wife leaving, until the next ball is snapped. My pals, Nick and Ted come over and we make fun of the new family next door that “garden” and play croquet together.

#

John played football in middle and high school. He packed on the pounds, and when he was a senior, he wrestled super-heavy weight. He had his brain rattled so many times, he dropped out of junior college to work in the plywood mill so he could save money and marry his high school sweetheart. His future is working until he gets a back injury, then kicking back and drawing disability. He plans to spend a lot of time, sitting in his Peyton Manning jersey and taking care of the babies while his wife works at the local Walmart until retirement.

#

I love to watch football on the TV. The girls and I get together, each bringing a tray or two of salty and fatty snacks. We watch all the games on the weekend. Last Saturday we saw two guys carried off the field, a guy in the crowd hit a player in the face with a beer bottle. We love the sport. We also get very excited and a little bit damp when we watch demolition derbies. It’s the sound of the roaring engines and the crowd that move all of us in ways that our husbands and boyfriends cannot.

SERENDIPITY

This is what they warn you about… “The thing in room 101, is the worst thing in the world”

In my case, it’s football.

I may be in the minority, but for me football represents everything that is tedious, boring and senseless – all packaged in a monotonous nonsense of pointlessness.

It is hell on earth.

And it shares this nightmarish room with me, constantly, day and night.

I’ve screamed, begged and come near to insanity… but they haven’t broken me yet.

The thing is – after ten days stuck in this room – I’ve begun to realise that actually, I love football!

LIZZIE

The writer sat at his desk. He hated football and the editor who hated him made him write about what? Football, of course. The writer procrastinated. He reorganized his books and reshuffled his pens. He even tried to figure out how much the plant sitting on his desk had grown. He could write about the rules, the players, the millionaire contracts, the model wives. No… So, he started like this “What if I killed…” It was a success! He wrote a book and signed a movie contract. There was also the small matter of the lawsuit, but that’s another story.

MUNSI

I was doing dinner theater, living in a hotel near Calgary’s football stadium.

My day off, on my way out, I happened upon six gentlemen in Chewbacca costumes, each with a Saskatchewan Roughriders jersey over his wookie suit.

I was surprised, as you would be. When I asked if that was a thing amongst Roughriders fans, one of the Chewies told me that no, it wasn’t, but that it totally should be. And then they were off to support their team, the weirdest way they knew, and I was alone with my thoughts…

So yeah, I cheer for the Roughriders.

ZACKMANN

I told a friend that I have learned a little about football because
of reading or listening to most of the GFL books.
So he asks since I know about the GFL would I like to try fantasy football.
Naturally I asks if that means I can use dragons and orcs.
He says only players on a real football team.
I ask if that means Ki, heavyG humans, and Skilorno are okay.
No he tells me only regular humans.
I say you mean I only get to use humans like some minor Purist Nation
league that sounds a bit dull.

When I was a kid some of the best cartoons were on Saturday near the
end of the morning. We did not have youtube and videos were really
expensive so if we didn’t see them on Saturday morning, we did not see
them. Hence childhood taught me professional and college sports are
evil because they would replace my cartoons with pregame shows which I
could almost understand but one day they preempted my favorite
cartoons with a Pre pregame show. What kind of sadistic nutjobs ran
television stations when I was a kid? Predictably, I never became a
sports fan.

CLIFF

Football 1

Legend has it that the game of football first started after a medieval battle. The warriors, still full of adrenaline after the bloody fight, found a severed head and proceeded to try to kick it past one another. It eventually became part of the after battle ritual to play the new game to help the troops unwind. Rules evolved, team names were chosen, and game strategies were developed. The king put an end to it when he learned that troops were holding back in battle to save their strength for the big game. Shortly thereafter, the football riot was invented.

Football 2

When I was a teenager, every Friday night was the same. We’d all gather at the school, dressed to impress no matter the weather. The guys all acted stupid trying to impress the girls. The girls all giggled and acted like they didn’t know the guys were there. Everybody tried to act cool as only a high school kid could do. There was high drama and low humor. Teen love blossomed and died. There were threats and jokes and the occasional brief fist fight. All the usual stuff. Oh, and apparently, there was a football game going on somewhere too.

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Football!

Hello Jimmy? Jimmy boy how ya doin buddy?! ?
Yah I made across the pond. Yep, lots of rain.

Sounds like I’m outside? Dude I am outside!
I’m at a stadium watchin guys in short boxers kick a ball around then pile up on each other.
Not sure why they would do that.

Gotta speak up Jims! There is a lot of racket in the stands.
Oh I came with an English feller who disappeared after we got here.
He said there’s gonna be a football game here.

Must be right after all these fancy shorts get off the field.

Don’t bug me man!

I aint your football field, bug. Go somewhere else to play your games.

Runnin around with your high flyin friends and landing on me like I gotta
host your party. You go on your own path, don’t need to be playin on my skin.

The old days are gone man you don’t go buzzin ’round my place.
Don’t you tread on me man.
Don’t you go buggin me with your night crawlin and name callin.

You aint gonna spin no web that makes it alright,
aint gonna mug me so best if you move on and don’t bug me man!

CHRIS

It was twelve forty-five in the morning when I heard it. I had been playing the new game Minecraft and had started a mine. I made the mistake of digging straight down and fell in to a huge pit. There were red stone lamps on the walls and I could hear the sounds of thousands of mobs. I followed a tunnel in the pit and neared a huge cavern. Two sides of the cavern were lined with bleachers on side with zombies the other with zombie pigmen. In between the bleachers was a football field with zombies and zombie pigmen playing a common game, football.

STEVEN

The Titans’ homecoming game was not going well.

It was a perfect evening for football; clear air and just crisp enough to think about apple cider and light sweatjackets. But the Titans had trouble. Bobby twisted his ankle on the first play. It got worse from there.

With seconds left, the Titans were down by five. Fourth and goal. The center snapped the ball, the pass went high… and landed in the hands of Mike Winkerbean. Mike took a knee, just like his idol, Tebow.

A lightning bolt struck him as a voice boomed: “Thor bet on the other team.”

NORVAL JOE

Harold knew it had to be a dream, though the grass was wet on his bare feet. The late October evening was cold and his breath turned to steam with ever rapid, panicked, gasp.
Five foot ten and one-hundred-ten pounds soaking wet, he ran for his life, his striped, flannel, pajamas pants flapping with each stride.
A dream. And yet, the texture of the football was rough and real tucked between his arm and naked chest.
The touchdown would have won the game, but it was called back. Harold was neither in a proper uniform, nor on the team roster.

The pass is complete but the receiver takes a wicked hit from behind and the football is loose and bouncing across the field. It’s a race to see who will recover the ball, but the ball seems to be out running the the players. It can’t be. The Trojans have done it again. They’ve pulled the wiener dog sneak for the third game in a row.
While both teams are distracted chasing the wiener dog, the receiver runs to the end zone for a touchdown and another win for the red and gold.
Just look at that wiener dog run.

TURA

So last weekend I took the train over to Cambridge (the real one) to hear some music three hundred years old, in a church five hundred years old. Seven violin concerti from Vivaldi’s “L’Estro Armonico”, the Birth of Harmony, a collection that virtually created the baroque concerto, played by one of the leading baroque ensembles of our time.

Football? What care I, for football? Except that there was a big match in Norwich that ended shortly before I got on the train, and with departing football fans it was standing room only all the way. Liverpool 5, Norwich 2, apparently.

PLANET Z

I joined an online fantasy football league, but instead of trading and tracking real professional football players, we trade characters and creatures from fantasy novels and bedtime stories.

I put together my roster with the greatest of care picking ogres as linebackers, elves as wide receivers and a mighty stone giant as my quarterback.

My most important move was to put Rumpelstiltskin in charge of all stadium concessions. It didn’t matter how many games we won or tickets we sold, because the wicked little trickster spun the soda straws into gold and we all retired as billionaires, elves and all

REDGODDESS

During the recession, Lola’s neighborhood has gone through many changes. Her favorite book store became a luxurious spa. The Indian family who ran it disappeared. The foreclosed church is now a high end condominium, own by the football quarterback. She overheard two students say,”No one prays anymore anyways.” The library is slated to become a sushi restaurant. In the distance, where mostly immigrants live. One of the worst eye sore is still unfinished. A structure for a low-income housing development.It’s been five years since they broke ground. Oh well, like I said soon we all be eating Sushi.