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-Three, 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 Red.

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

• Rails Bailey
• Thomas
• Tura
• Shruti
• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Lizzie
• Guard 13007
• Munsi
• Serendipidy Haven
• Zackmann
• Botgirl
• Monday Jinx
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Bonchance and Sevi
• RedGoddess
• Norval Joe
• TJ
• Steven the Nuclear Man
• Planet Z

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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RAILS

There’s a red under the bed was the catch cry of the cold war, I looked under my bed and all I found was dust and the odd half chewed sweet. Where was the red under the bed. I turned the bed clothes upside down, and inside out, still no red in the bed.

So much for propaganda, there was no red under my bed, the Government were lying or maybe hiding the elusive red under their bed.

I slept more soundly when I didn’t find that elusive red under my bed, but wondered who’s bed he was under.

THOMAS

The Red Scare hit high school in the fifties, when Red Buchanan transferred from his school in Oklahoma. He was a buck-toothed, burr-headed, cretin with a chip on his shoulder, and filled with the self-generated fantasy of being a cowboy. The nearest Red ever got to beef was at Jack In The Box, where he stuffed his big, stoopid (sic) face with burgers three times a day. He carried a knife in his cowboy boot, but when he needed it to clean fingernails or play mumbledepeg, he had to remove his boot. This negated all the coolness of having a switchblade.

#

It turned bright red and in a week after it appeared, it spread further, until it exploded into a spray of even more intensity. The patch of Chinese opium poppies were all volunteers, propagated by the birds that live in Thomas’ Wild Animal Park and Sanctuary. He waited until the petals matured and fell off, then scored the pods, waiting until the seepage flowed. He collected it, dried it, then brewed the tea so popular with his Uncle Kenny and the graphic designer next door. The electric meter reader was bribed with some product so he wouldn’t turn him in.

#

“Roses are 700 nanometers, violets are 400.” Jonnie was a clever little guy, and was in the advanced placement physics class. He wrote his first poem for his classmate, April, hoping to impress her with his knowledge of light and wavelength. Functioning at the highest level of Asperger’s Syndrome, Jonnie could only relate to autistic students or teachers that were appropriately trained to deal with “special” students. Misunderstood and teased by other students at Roosevelt Junior High until he opened his own software company when he was nine, selling it to Google for cash and stock when he turned eleven.

#

The Ketones played nightly at The Red Moon. Smooth as silk, they did all the fifties tunes that we slow-danced to. More ladies were impregnated in the parking lot of The Red Moon than in the town of Port Hadlock. The Ketones practiced on street corners for a couple of years. Then, around 1958, they ran into a couple of guys who also sang on the corner: Eddie Montgomery, and Frederick “Money Guitar” Jones. Jones a lefty, taught himself to play a right-handed guitar held upside down. Earl Poppindeau, played the bass, and Tommie “Three Balls” Johnson, was the percussionist.

TURA

“Mummy, what’s black and white and red all over?”

I sleepily turned over and looked at the clock. Three in the morning. Jack wasn’t there, he must still be up working, again. “Go back to bed sweetheart,” I murmured.

“What’s black and white and red all over?” she repeated.

“I don’t know, what *is* black and white and red all over?” I said, playing along.

She didn’t say anything.

“A newspaper?”

“A book?”

“I have to show you,” she said, at last, in a small voice.

Jack wasn’t there. I didn’t hear him typing. I silently whispered, “A suicide note.”

SHRUTI

For a change she was quiet. The woman had driven him to bankruptcy with her demands of jewellery in exchange for love. He had been angrier with himself rather than her after she left. He had let her take him for a fool.

He hadn’t come intending to hurt her. All he wanted was what he had paid for. Her refusal had been her downfall.

He let the blood drip down the knife’s edge creating a pattern on her neck as it went. Rubies had been her favourite and he thought it justified to adorn her with the red necklace.

TOM

Lester Patterson was a cautious man. Drove with hands at 10 and 2. Heavily insured, multiple 401s. Lived on a cul-de-sac on the side of a cliff. Worked for a branch of the government, in an office that hadn’t seen a layoff since the Taft administration. He attended a non-descript flavor of protestant church, weekly. A totally reasonable person in everyway but one, he loved The Wager. This said you might think Lester was a gambler, far from it. The man only wagered once a year, at a single casino, at one table, only one bet. A thousand on Red.

JEFFREY

The Girl in the Bikini
by Jeffrey Fischer

I put down a folding chair and a bucket of beer bottles and set up my umbrella on an unpopulated stretch of beach. Mostly unpopulated, anyway: a young woman lay out in the hot sun, working on a nice, even tan. She had slipped off the straps of her bikini top to avoid tan lines and was now luying on her stomach. I picked up the new Brad Thor thriller and started reading.

Four beers and three hundred pages later – that guy knows how to keep the pages turning! – I looked up. The woman hadn’t moved in several hours. I assumed she had fallen alseep. Maybe it was the beer talking, but I placed the book on the sand next to me and yelled, “Oh my God, a shark! Run for your life!” As I hoped, the woman woke and rolled over, exposing her breasts as her top fell to the sand. She grabbed a towel and glared. “You bastard!” I shrugged. “I thought you’d want that sunburn to be applied evenly.”

It’s true that she beat me mercilessly with my book, but her yelps of pain each time she whacked me showed it hurt her more than it hurt me.

LIZZIE

“He said go,” protested the soldier holding a gun.

“No, he said take your time,” replied the other soldier.

“He said go.”

“He said take your time.”

And this continued for half an hour.

“Are you done?” asked the sergeant suddenly. “Get going. Now!”

The soldiers jumped the side of the trench and started moving, still fussing about the orders, not paying attention to the whistling war around them.

It was fast, it was painless. Their lives and their disagreements were now part of the past.

Their families would receive a letter of condolences. It would be stamped in red.

GUARD 13007

A red LED turns on, then blinks twice and turns green. A whole board of lights goes on and off haphazardly, and there is a whirring noise in the dark. A floodlamp flickers a few times and goes out. Several LEDs turn red.

There is a hissing noise and a set of chemical lights activate, revealing a hibernation pod in a foggy green glow. The hatch squeaks open and the occupant looks around. He pulls the hibernation equipment out and slowly sits up.

He looks at the wall of LEDs, a few green, most are red. And there is blood.

MUNSI

RedRum

By Christopher Munroe

I finally bought myself a bottle of RedRum.

I figured it’d provide material for stories, going forward. You know, unexpected deaths, scrambling to hide bodies, the whole thing. Something pun-based yet horrific.

Disappointing.

Nobody died, no horrifying revelations, overall it was an uneventful night, drinking Rum and struggling to write.

I may have overdone it. Rum’s never agreed with me, and putting down the whole bottle was probably unwise.

Now my head’s pounding, I’m queasy and I can’t focus my eyes. I’ve never had a hangover this bad in my life! It hurts like mur…

Oh! I just got it!

SERENDIPITY

She has eyes of startling red.

It’s never bothered me in the slightest, but it seems other people are oddly freaked by it.

“Vampire?”, they ask… “Some sort of medical condition?”… “Is it some bizarre body modification thing?”

Why do people always have to leap to the wrong conclusions, coming up with crazy ideas when it’s actually nothing much? There’s no mystery, at all – just ask her and she’ll explain – it’s really very simple.

She just has very bad aim – and lip gloss has always been a bit of a struggle.

You should see where she puts the eye-liner!

ZACKMANN

Fiendship is Magic
“So sweet yet so foolish for you to come into the woods with me.
Pinkypie did you think it was strange when I asked if I could tether
you and bring you out here all by yourself.”
“No, it was fun when Spike did it and we tried a bunch of stuff from a
book Purity was reading.”
“Bet you wish Fluttershy told you she has an evil sister. After I tie
you to this tree, I will cut you and use your red blood to summon….”
“Oh No do not summon Discord” interrupts Pinky
“No, silly I’ll summon Garaaga”

BOTGIRL

We look across the room and meet each others’ gaze. Deep dormant trauma stirs, rising and morphing through layers of thawing emotion until it surfaces masked and cloaked.

We oscillate from pole to pole, emotional magnets flipping between attraction and repulsion; love and hate; benevolence and jealousy; anger and sadness; connection and isolation.

Marionettes on invisible strings, we dance until we are entangled and bound. If numbness does not prevail, we descend back through the depths. To the pain and grief hiding beneath our rage. And the terror cowering in the heart of our desire. Silently praying to be healed.

MONDAY

He never got past the antiquated idea from the decade of greed, that red was a power color. He wore red ties and drove a red car. He wrapped his pathetic crotch in red bikini briefs further stoking the fires of his own ego. He came home from work and announced red letter days to his wife whom, incidentally, he felt could go a bit heavier on the rouge and lipstick. His drink of choice was Campari and soda, a blood orange monstrosity pronounced with annoyingly elongated Massachusetts vowel sounds. In short he was a true, world class douche bag.

CLIFF

Almost missed it this week. Today was the last performance of our play. By the time I got home, I just wanted to fall into bed. Then, at the last minute, I remembered that you were counting on me. I don’t have the energy to record it, but here are my thoughts on the prompt of RED…

Modern fire engines sort of a sickly yellowish color. I guess I’m a traditionalist. I like the old red fire trucks. I loved to see them racing down the streets. When I was a kid, I would stand on the curb, waiting to see them roar past me on the way to douse a blaze. The bigger the blaze, the more trucks I saw. When a house burned, they’d send three. When the school was destroyed, there were a dozen trucks from around the county. No one ever noticed that I always knew when they were going to show up.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Impossible!

Mirella looked at her violin, the same hue
of red as the violin in that movie.
How she wished she could play as sweetly as
it’s previous owners. Impossible!

There was only so much the public school system
could do, Mr. Peppa the music instructor told her mother.
Special training was required.
There was an extraordinary music
camp that summer, he told her the cost.

She watched her Ma lower her head in shame. Impossible.
Her fingers traced the outline of her prized gift.
Mirella sadly began to play Edelweiss repeatedly.
Each rendition better than the last. Anything is possible!

The Scarlet Letter

Sarah spread the ironed cotton t-shirt on the table. Red paint ready to
color the pencil traced calligraphy.
The crimson shade would pop on the crisp white.
The letter “B” for Bully would be the only letter, the scarlet letter.

The box was addressed to her so called best friend.
The hand written note would be her final response to her cruel words.
She ended the letter saying, wear this with pride.

The knife gleamed bright in the sunshine.
Tears streamed down her face as the cold steel cut through her alabaster wrists.
Her splattered blood signature tainted the t-shirt.

Pablo

Pablo was angry and seeing red. He finally found his son, Pepe.
He found him in the back of a funhouse caged and covered in blood…not his own.

Pablo brought his new friends to help distract the workers in the building.
There was Sparkles, the vicious calico kitty, attired in a beautiful velvet bow.
He was accompanied by the other recently released puppies as they made the distraction in front.

Molly and Maggie-(the twin wiener dogs), were doing their part by waddling wildly through the funhouse.
Pablo sent Pepe home, then went to the front to lend a helping paw.

REDGODDESS

Lola can’t believe she’s been working the swanky hotel for three years. It makes her sad to be such a natural. Lola lost her high paying job, on her 35th birthday. Instead of a tenth year celebration or an anniversary plague she found herself crying in the rear corporate parking lot. Since then, Lola has learned to treat herself to red every pay.

The first week was a lipstick, than a red toy soldier, her favorite was red gloves meant to compliment a scarf from Morocco a guest gave her. She thinks about her past, but is thankful for Red.

#####

In Lola’s world, a poor lower-class black world, making a living wage is a far-fetched dream. Living requires her to make at least 40,000 dollars a year. It just isn’t there, and when it is, there are over 300 applicants every time. “I’m so lucky to even have a job.” The globally warmed world is growing colder. Outside the fancy hotel rich people speed walk their puppies past a sleeping homeless woman. Lola fills a red bag with food and toiletries to place by the forgotten woman. Maybe Lola does have a livable wage, since she is still LIVING.

NORVAL JOE

In a small circle, their backs to each other, the company feebly slashed and stabbed at the endless flood of goblins who climbed over the bodies of their dead companions in their continued assault. Without notice the creatures scattered from the killing field.
Owen looked at his goblin-blood stained arms, black, not red and gasped, “Does this mean we won?”
“I don’t think so,” Flindert sighed.
Screaming hysterically, Spleen burst from the woods and ran toward the company.
With the booming of shattering trees a giant red demon, four times the size of the half-goblin, launched itself into the clearing.

TJ

After two months and $2,500, we moved out of the little red room at Ellen’s. The process of becoming a first-time homeowner put me in nine different addresses over the course of five months while I looked at five different homes and put bids in on two. I dealt with seven different bankers and three circles of hell watching helplessly as circumstances over which I had no control played major roles in the decision-making process as to whether or not me and my bf would have a place to live. Finally, matter resolved. Second night in our new home. Heaven.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The clouds of the morning sky glowed the same red as the drying Russian blood on Istvan’s fur. He glanced at Janos beside him. The younger man bared his teeth. They both shifted to full farkasform, loping on all fours toward the safehouse.

Janos had the speed of youth, emerging from the alley just before Istvan. Istvan heard the hiss of steam a moment too late for his friend. Silvered blades sliced into Janos’ body. Istvan skidded to a halt, just far enough forward to see the Russian steamwalker begin to stand and ready another volley.

Istvan ran.

For now.

PLANET Z

Galileo said that Mathematics is the language with which God has written the universe.

Geometry is just one of his many dialects, and some shapes are more holy to him than others.

For instance, the octagon is known as The Eye Of God, and every octagon is a window through which He watches over us all.

Yes, all of those stop signs at intersections mean that God is watching when you don’t come to a complete stop.

But not at red lights.

Those are The Eyes Of Satan, and if you listen, you can hear The Devil whisper “Floor it!”

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-Two, 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 Card.

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

• Thomas
• Jeffrey
• Munsi
• Guard 13007
• Serendipidy Haven
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Caledonia
• Tom
• TJ
• Zackmann
• Brokali
• Lizzie
• Botgirl
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Steven the Nuclear Man
• Norval Joe
• Danny Dwyer
• Arri Gaffer
• RedGoddess
• Planet Z

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:

(I was borrowing my wife’s camera for a soft of Bruwyn this morning, synced up, and three onboard snapshots were hidden on the camera. I miss my buddy.)

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THOMAS

His business card was unique. Brad, a designer, had special cards made that he would hand out to prospective clients. The cards were made for him by Altadox in Shenzhen, China. Containing circuits, the card hummed, lit up, then vibrated when exposed to light and warmed by contact with the hand. Brad would pull a card out at a meeting, and hand it to visitors, causing the meeting to stop while everyone passed the card around, examining it. The small amount of radioactive material used to power the devices leaked, and the cards had to be recalled, but too late.

#

Mr. Bilbo thought of himself as a real card, but his practical jokes usually caused injury, and his last trick put his own mother into traction. Underneath his benign exterior, an evil, sadistic man simmered. Terrance was angry about being born without the usual complement of man parts, so he spent time dreaming up pranks to agitate everyone he came in contact with. He had no friends and worked as a clerk in a county job. Terrance’s last gag involved gun powder and alcohol. He was setting up the gag when something went wrong, painting the garage walls with Terrance.

#

Nancy was crafty. She brushed her friend’s dog, carded and spun the long hair, and knitted hats for her family. Nancy discovered all the hats went missing within a few days. One afternoon, she saw her dog, Pearl, digging in the backyard. Grass and dirt flew from between her back legs, as she worked zealously at the hole in the back yard. Nancy went to investigate and found her hat at the bottom of the hole, partially covered by the loose dirt. Pearl didn’t like the whole family walking around with the smell of the other dog on their heads.

JEFFREY

It’s in the Cards
by Jeffrey Fischer

You sit in front of the woman in the crazy gypsy dress, your wife next to you, watching the elderly woman put one Tarot card on top of the other. You do not bother to hide your skepticism. The gypsy woman doesn’t seem to mind: she knows that your wife insisted you do this, and she’s seen the skeptical husband archetype before. You paid up front, and that’s all that matters to her.

The gypsy places another card on the table, on top of the Wheel of Fortune that lay there. The Fool. Certainly appropriate, you think dryly. “A zeegnifigant change eez comink,” the elderly woman says. Is her accent real or a put-on? You can’t decide. She places another card 90 degrees from the others. Temperance. I need a drink, you think. “Harmony und balance,” she says. “But opposite of that. You haff unbalance.”

Last card. You turn to your wife. “It’s Death. It’s always Death in these cheesy carnivals.” The gypsy places the last card. Not Death, but The Tower. “Hard times for you,” she says. “It eez your ruin.”

“I’ve had enough,” you say, and leave the tent. Your wife catches up with you and says nothing as you make your way to the car. Angrily, you start up the car and drive off too fast. When the child steps in front of the car you have no time to stop and the little body hits the front bumper, then the windshield. As your wife begins to scream, you wonder if the gypsy has the gift of sight after all.

MUNSI

The Card Trick

By Christopher Munroe

Pick a card, any card.

Look, then put it back into the deck.

Queen of Diamonds, right?

No?

Well, the trick only works one time in fifty-two.

Still…

When I did it to my buddy Steve, and it was the Queen of Diamonds, he basically lost his mind. Spent days trying to figure out how I did it. Eventually stopped asking me, but I suspect some part of him still wonders, even today.

And if you don’t think that was worth the dozens of times the trick failed, you don’t understand my willingness to over-commit to a bit at all.

GUARD 13007

My opponent muttered some sort of incantation, and the skies darkened. A flash of lightning, and my response appeared, a metallic beast, drawing in the rest of the lightning and using it to power up.

She was unfazed, her eyes turning blue as a blinding light shone above her. When it faded, an electric-green dragon was hovering there.

It opened its jaws, sucked in air, and belched a fireball at me. My beast jumped to protect me, but was weakened by the extreme heat.

Things were looking grim, but I could still make it if I played my cards right.

SERENDIPITY

“My card”, he said, reaching into his wallet.

“You can stuff your card where the sun don’t shine – how the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

I stared dismayed at the wreck of my car: a complete write-off, although his swish limo was barely dented.

“Please”, he said, “take it. Give my office a call and everything will be taken care of.”

He slipped the card into my hand.

“Now, please excuse me, I’ve a flight to catch”

He drove off, leaving me. I sighed, and looked at the card in my hand.

It was completely blank!

CLIFF

Thanks for calling Storyline. My name is Raj. How can I help you? Yes sir, we sell custom stories written on demand. How long of a story are you needing? One hundred words? Really? Is this one of those goofy one hundred word podcast things that everybody …oh, it is. No sir, we don’t judge, we just sell the stories. Now, what credit card will you be using? And the name on the card? I’m sorry, Chris, was that Monroe with a W or an E? Very good. And your topic? Oh, no sir. We don’t do wiener dog stories.

CALEDONA

There he is again, on his damn horse. The card is cluttered with other symbolism, but I always draw back intimidated. Way in the background a golden burst catches my eye. I lean closer. A sunrise between two towers: the end of a journey. A deep voice rumbles, “Death humbles, strips all to the bone, but is not the end. It is transformation. See the sun pass daily only to return. See seasons change in a cycle of rebirth. Old leaves must wither and fly away from a tree’s branches, leaving them bare, before new green leaves can appear.” Cool.

TOM

“Grandma why do they all a funny guy a Card?” She sets her High Ball on the coaster and in broken English say, “There was this dealer in Las Vegas in the last 40’s could rifle a deck between his ear and shoulder. Every time Bugsy Siegel sees it he breaks up laughn. Well Bugsy gets popped and next thing yas know everyone the guy even smiled at starts getting wacked. Final one day they find the dealer in a 55 gallon drum in the desert a big old smile painted on his face. Let play some rummie, timmy. Deal

TJ

Throw Down

If I play my Ice Demon, he’ll counter with his Red Dragon card. If I play Cloak of Midnight he’ll throw down Night Vision. Eagle Talon will get Rythian Shield, Terra Force Army will face Spectre Wail. My Ninja Fighter is powered down for the next three turns, and my Crystal Wizard is no match for his Sorceress. Tar Slime will force an agility toss but he’s been doing too well with those and I do not like my chances. I think I’ll just tell everyone he still wets the bed and win when he runs crying from the room.

ZACKMANN

I go to this place and ask a woman if she could help me remember this
book about this kid who thinks he is playing a game and he finds out
the only way to win is to bend the rules. He later finds out he was
really leading an army not playing a game. She says “Card”. I take a
card out my wallet. She says “No, I mean look under Orson Scott Card.
He is the author. Book is Enders Game or better yet the First Meetings
edition but you will need your library card to borrow it.“

BROKALI

She opened the card and stared at it for most of the afternoon. She knew the next time she saw his name it would be this way. There it was in beautiful calligraphy his wedding invitation. “We’ve finally found the love of a lifetime.” She laughed as she resealed her roommates mail, this was why she told her to never sever ties with him. This way she would know when the man that shattered her heart in a million pieces was ready to move onward. She pulled her pistol from her purse and also moved onward after pulling the trigger.

LZZIE

A line of people, each with a card, waited patiently. Some cards said “Odd Person”; others said “Funny Person”.

“Odd people to the back,” someone yelled.

The line disarticulated itself in disarray until all the “odd people” were standing at the back. When the train arrived, one of the “odd people” raised his arm.

“Funny people are odd,” he said. “Sometimes you simply cannot understand them.” A wave of protests came from the front of the line.

The supervisor told him to shut up. He did. After all, odd people are odd people and funny people are funny people. Right?

BOTGIRL

John opened the panel in the back of her head and inserted the card into the open slot. The body was a perfect replica of Jane in her prime, before the accident broke her too badly for even medicine’s modern miracles to repair.

Jane had resisted getting scanned and backed up, no matter how many times John had nagged her. “We’ve got plenty of time,” she’d say. Now, the results of an experimental post-mortem brain scan were anything but certain.

Activating the start-up process, John waited to see if his beloved wife would boot up from the dead.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Crap,
Our 100 challenge word offering based on the word card. Collaborative write with Severina Halostar and Bonchance Longfall:

Card…

The lunatic was subdued and bound
All but one of the parachutes were destroyed.
The engine sputtered. They weren’t going to make it.
10 crew, one parachute. They decided to try two on one chute but who?
Everyone picked a card, highest cards get the chute.

Tom held the cards as everyone took a card, each person held theirs up.
the two female crew members were showing a jack and a nine.
Only one other crewman displayed a card, a deuce.

Tom cupped and palmed his ace.
He looked at the two female colleagues saying, let’s get you strapped in.

Some say, “Living in a house of Cards” is a bad thing.

Ever imagined all the great floor plan combinations you could create?
You could build regal formal rooms and pretend you are royalty or erect
a cozy den for when you want to kick back and swig a cold coors light.

So how do you deal with your home constantly cascading into a pile of cards?
Chill out! There’s more than meets the eye in a carded configuration.

With real estate taking a big dump, why invest heavily into bricks and mortar.
Plasticized paper is the way to go!

That Jim Casey was a card!
Jim was a cheerful guy who loved to pull peoples’ legs.

He always had a smile on his face, no matter how bad things were.
Even locked up behind bars and constantly being thrown stern looks by the men in blue.
He still grinned broadly like it was his birthday.

Jim’s house was being dismantled. The search for evidence proceeded.
They wanted to nail this sicko. The sheriff, looking revolted, spoke to the sea of news cameras.

“I can’t get the sight of that hidden room’s trophy wall of legs out of my mind!”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The security guard scowled, face hard as the steel door behind him. “ID, miss. You need to show it at all times.”

I sighed, digging in my pockets.

“…don’t need no stinking badges…” I muttered, finally withdrawing the plasticized card from my cargo pockets.

The guard looked it over. “You sure about this?”

“You know how many of these guys think ‘boob inspector’ is funny?”

As the guard smiled and opened the door to the annual frat convention, I unrolled my tape measure, adjusted my “junk inspector” badge, and anticipated making a lot of egos experience a lot of shrinkage.

NORVAL JOE

Elbownor shot his last arrow and pulled his long slender sword from its scabbard.
Shareeka’s magical blasts were visibly weaker with each wave.
Flinderts chest and face were spattered with goblin blood. He laughed as he swung his double-edged axe back and forth disembowling multiple goblins with each swipe.
“You look to be tiring, Dwarf. Do you you need Owen’s help?” Traveler teased.
“Ye be a veritable card, Ranger. Keep yer sense of humor. Ye’ll need it when that next wave gets here,” Flindert said.
Owen gulped when he looked over his shoulder and saw the goblins mounting another attack.

DANNY DWYER

“You really suck when your in a bad mood, just deal the cards!” Mark screamed at the top of his lungs. I just sat there motionless, first card of the deck in my right hand, refusing to move, refusing to deal the next hand of 5 card stud poker. “Your lucky I don’t defriend your sorry Republican ass on Facebook. You might be a complete, utter douchebag who loves yelling at empty chairs, but your no Clint Eastwood,” I responded. “Oh, I’m so going to kick your liberal ass, DEAL!” I just dealt the hand, never saying the cards were marked.

ARRI

Riktor couldn’t fathom being duped into this colossal time waste visiting the seer. It was ludicrous to think this would help. Life blew and that was that. The bloody invasion had taken his work, town, wife, and all else that mattered in life. All that remained was loss and anger. And this quack oracle across the table.
“So turn the card.” barked Riktor.
The oracle didn’t immediately. “Your view, is very short, see little. Maybe raise eyes, look farther no?
As the card rotated; the view wiped to become another reality. Lushly opposed to his former life. Completely alone too.

RED

The rainstorm hits the coast harder than locals expected. Rain or shine Lola has to work. At the hotel, the wind slaps the front gate open, dragging debris in from the main street. A queen of heart card flies in and lands on Lola’s desk. She looks up and notices the light for the “no vacancy” sign is flickering. Lola wishes she had taken a personal day off to spend time with the mystery guy. She’s reluctant to open her heart and deal with another disappointment. She could still hear his last word while saying good night, “you intrigue me.”

PLANET Z

My grandmother turns ninety-seven tomorrow.

I didn’t send her a card this year.

Or the past six years.

(Or was it seven?)

Anyway, she’s ninety-seven, and at every birthday dinner, she always asks who’s birthday it is.

“It’s yours,” my parents tell her.

“Oh,” she says. “And how old am I?”

“Ninety-seven.”

“Oh,” says my grandmother. Then, slowly: “Ohhhhhhh.”

They give her the cards to read.

And they get to mine.

“It’s perfect,” my grandmother says.

They told me she said that seven years ago.

So, I said “Keep giving her that card each year then.”

It’s still perfect.