The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the thirty-third Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by Lee from Readstrange and he chose Cephalopod.
stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
rookies this week? BOOOOOOOOOO!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Who wrote the best story for Weekly Challenge #33?
	T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
	Steve from iLaugh
	Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
	Andrew of Dodgeblogium
	K-9 from Dead Dog Blogging
	Lee from Read Strange
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Will Ross from Smart Bomb Radio
	B
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots for the Masses
	The Twisted Bard From Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

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The full text of each story:
TA MARQUETTE

Two cephalopods float into a bar.
After upping a dozen Marianna Whitefish
one cephalopods notes the other
is missing his Hectocotylus.
“You’re dickless dude, what happened?”
“It got snapped off in Rita.”
“Ouch, that’s got to hurt.”
“Not half as much as what she said.
Just before Mr. Happy went west I hear
‘I didn’t know you had such a small organ.’
“Man that’s cold. What did you say?”
“Nothing”
“What?”
“Listen if she ever loads it up again here’s what you say.
I didn’t know I had to play in a cathedral.”
You have dialed dial a dirty joke.

STEVE

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room.
“You all heard him, right? How many times did he say ‘mushroom’?”
“Um…I dunno Jen…seven?” squeaked John.
“SEVEN? Try 40! Son of a bitch had it coming!”
The argument ended there, as everyone’s eyes were still trained on the bloodied candlestick that Jen still clutched in her hands, and the growing pool of red forming beneath Tom’s head.
“Well then, what was it?” asked Kath.
“Cephalopod!”
“Oh,” replied the crowd.
“I kinda thought it was a mushroom too…” whispered Gary.
And with that, no one ever played Pictionary at the Anderson’s house again.

LAIEANNA

“God, this is rubbery. Can’t you cook them differently?”
“Like I have a wide selection of ingredients! Maybe you should go out and catch something else.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Then shut up about my cooking.”
“Shit, it’s happening again. Get me the axe!”
“Try not to damage the hull.”
“I’m chopping at it all day and it still gets through. That’s not my fault!”
“Maybe we should just go out there and let it kill us.”
“Oh no! We’ll eat it tentacle by tentacle before I let it have me! I don’t care how rubbery they are!”

DODGE

Prof Ali looked over the side of the ship. He was looking for the giant cephalopod he heard about in these waters, 300 miles off the coast of Guam. He did not fear the rumours of al Dagon or any tales of an evil sea djinn. He was a man of science who wanted to get the glory for this discovery for his Cairo University.
He did not notice that no others were on deck with him..
He did see the huge shape below the boat coming toward him. He didn’t fear it but itched to see it.
He did…

K-NINE

It was Captain Wook’s first command. He had risen through the ranks from trooper to officer with strategy and forethought.
As young as he was, he was surprised to have been given a battle commission and command of the first wave. He wasn’t worried though, the enemy had proven to be splintered by political factions and a populace with an overactive social conscience.
They would be easy to defeat.
As he reached out with one of his tentacles and shoved another screaming human into his mastication orifice he thought to himself, “Not bad for a Cephalopod from a small moon.”

LEE

Sergeant Miller stood in front of the suspect and frowned. This one was dressed as a milkman.
“They’re getting better,” said Miller to Dr. Bateman.
“Hey, look,” complained the milkman. “I got a route to deliver.”
“Not till we know for certain,” Miller replied and wheeled over the testing apparatus. The milkman gasped.
“This won’t take long,” said the doctor. Miller backed away.
Bateman opened a vial, removed a pinch of pepper and blew.
“PA-too-too-WHOO-PEE!”
Miller put a bullet through the milkman’s head and re-holstered his gun.
“Once the cephalopods learn how to sneeze…”
“Then god help us,” Bateman sighed.

ELISSON

Sidney the Squid was a cephalopod.
He was mighty odd for a cephalopod.
On his Undersea Tee-Vee he’d watch the CephaloMod Squad –
And the Mickey Mollusk Club: he loved Jimmie Cephalo-Dodd.
A Religi-Squidgy, he was a disciple of the CephaloGod.
He caught dinner (Boston scrod) with hook, line, and CephaloRod.
He was a Music Maven with his Cephalo-iPod.
He hung out at Gold’s Gym to buff his CephaloBod.
He’d watch Superman II and root for General CephaloZod.
He’d indicate approval with a wink and cephalo-nod.
Despite Sidney’s being so cephalo-odd,
His friends worshiped the ground ‘pon which he cephalo-trod.

WILL ROSS

Well, it’s that time of year again where you look into your Necronomicon and see which followers have been naughty and which followers have been nice. As I’ve been extra good this year, here is my list of presents I want from you. I would tell you in person but our mall is totally not politically correct and only has a santa claus.
A ten speed
Kill Tommy Stevens
GI-Joes
Invulnerability.
Legos
And a kid brother I can play with (My last one broke)
I long to feel the embrace of your dark tentacles,
Billy Sawyer (Age 10)

B

Sammy Cephalopod was a pretty even-tempered fellow. He never went looking for trouble. He stayed hidden, for the most part, in between rocks waiting for the next unsuspecting crab dinner to wander along.
Because he was small, cute, and had beautiful blue rings, there was always some creature passing by that just couldn’t resist the urge to say, “Oh look! How cute!”
That’s fine. But they’d better not try to pet him! He liked his personal space and the price for invading it would lethal. He might be small but in the world of Hapaloclaena maculosa, size really DOESN’T matter.

HOUSTON KEYS

“I should have flushed it” Cali mumbled.
The smoldering remains of her bathroom reflected the damage done to her psyche as she reviewed the cephalopod attack.
It had seemed cute at first. As it grew it became a problem.
When it ate the cat she knew something had to be done.
Taking the aquarium to the bathroom she decided on a burial at sea but the squid fought back. In the struggle a tentacle grabbed her cell phone pulling it into the toilet and ruining it.
“If I had flushed the cell phone, my insurance would have covered it. Crap!”

Z

Clem saw The Octopus on the auction block.
It was the fiercest amusement park ride of its day, but over the years, the thrill was gone.
After Clem bought it, he realized it would be hard to include in his traveling carnival because of its overall weight and complexity.
So, he had it assembled, and then stripped it down to reduce its travel burden and assembly time.
Stabilizers, safety bars, and other unessential components – all sold for scrap.
Yet, it looked the same, the menacing aluminum carapace, freshly-painted.
Didn’t fool the safety inspector, though.
Rejected.
Clem doubled his bribe.

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Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Welcome to the thirty-second Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by Houston Keys from Houston Keys and he chose Horbgorble.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
No rookies this week? BOOOOOOOOOO!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Who had the best story in the 32nd Weekly Challenge?
	Alpha K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
	Andrew Ian Dodge of Dogeblogium
	Steve from iLaugh.com
	Caroline from Quadra Island
	Lee from Read Strange
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Mark
	T.A. Marquette from Footnote
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots for the Masses
	The Disturbed Bard Of Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

---

The full text to each story…
ALPHA K NINE

“Speak to me damn it! I said speak up! I need a damage report!”
The lights on the con of the new experimental submarine were fading. Communication with the other decks was nonexistent. Commander Squallier paced bulkhead to bulkhead chewing his lower lip, glaring at the microphone he had just thrown down and kicking at the rising puddles of water.
A very clinical and far away voice, from one of the control ships on the surface came across.
Squallier answered, much calmer than before. “Mission failure… We won’t be coming back this time.”
“Repeat message Commander, You’re breaking up”
“Horbgorble…”

LISA

She was surprised to hear this week’s topic would be “horbgoble”. Surely Houston Keys didn’t know what that word really meant, could he? She wasn’t aware that other people actually used it; she thought it was something only she and her man used.
How did he know?
She “Googled” it – nothin’.
Dictionary.com? Nothin’.
How in the world could Houston Keys possibly know this? Had she mistakenly left the webcam on?
She went to the last source she knew of that “might” have it – urbandictionary.com. Not finding it there either, she decided to bravely submit the real meaning for it there.

ANDREW IAN DODGE

“Oh my good he exclaimed I just saw a Horbgorble!”
“A what?” Exclaimed an exasperated Rupert.
“A bloody horbgorble! You know…one of them big and scary things that
is ugly and brutish.”
“You mean John Prescott MP?”
“Wha…” He got more upset. “No…horbgorble big, hairy and ugly with a big nose.”
“Oh you mean Hazel Blears?”
“No like off that ale from up North that is strong an’ dark.”
“Oh hobgoblin!.”
“Yeah one of dem’…”
“You in Leiscester Square mate?”
“Yeah…”
“Tonight is the premiere of the new Spiderman movie you pillock. That
is a bloke in a costume.”
“Ooh”

STEVE A

“AHA!”
Jeremy was startled out of his mood by a single word.
That would be his nickname.
How tough sounding! If this caught on, he’d be the coolest guy in school.
Plus, bullies don’t pick on guys with nicknames, even if they do have braces and acne.
Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Honey, are you OK? You’ve been in the washroom quite a while now.”
“I’m fine Mom! And, from now on, the name is…Horbgorble!”
“OK dear…dinner’s in 10 minutes.”
“Fine!”
And with that, Horbgorble returned to the bra section of the catalogue to finish masturbating.

CAROLINE

Instead of the usual ga ga and boo boo’s Thomas said ‘horble gorbles. The psychologist said he was a genius and would be very gifted. The doctor said what a clever baby you have. His father said, My son’s a bloody genius. His sister said my baby brother’s going to be a scientist.
Thomas became a truck driver. His mother asked ‘Why didn’t you become the genius we expected. What was the ‘horble gorbles word?’ That, said Thomas was “horrible Gargoyles.’ Besides I didn’t’ like the look of that psychologist with the furry eyebrows and wart on his left cheek.

LEE OF READSTRANGE

“What is it?”
“Dunno really. The box says it’s a Horbgorble, some kind of robot invader thing.”
“And that’s what you got Billy for Christmas?”
“It’s what he wanted.”
“What does it do?”
“I put batteries in. Turn it on here…there it goes!”
“…it just walks around like that…?”
“Hi! I’m Horbgorble. All useless lifeforms must be exterminated.”
“…a bit violent…”
“Seems locked on the cat…”
“Identified: felix domesticus. Verdict: useless.”
“What’s it pointing at Fluffy?”
Zzzz-AP!
“Oh my god! Fluffy!”
“It vaporised the cat, Peter!”
Zzzz-AP!
“…the Christmas tree!”
“Peter! It’s pointing at…”
“Identified: homo sapiens. Verdict: useless.”
Zzzz-AP!

LAIEANNA

“Oh, you think this is over, don’t you, big hero? You’re so wrong! I
have family and they won’t let me go to prison.” The villain boasted.
Bad guys…they never quit…kept him in business.
“You’re crazy.” Spiderman took a drag off the cigarette he had
stashed. MaryJane was going to kill him for this.
“Here comes my cousin right now!” Hobgoblin laughed. A sickly green
man in costume, looking lost, walked towards the two, then away, never
looking directly at them. “Horbgorble, you idiot, come back here and
help me!”
“Nice family tree,” Spiderman smiled and strung up his nemesis.

MARK H

Wizard explained to Apprentice, “Brownian motion is a random process that bounces sunlit specks of dust on the backs of molecular broncos. There is no controlling consciousness. Collisions usually occur between pairs, and rarely, there is a three way collision. No steering. No purpose.
“The activities of humans are similarly random, for the most part. Coincidences occur. Perceived significance is imposed by the observers, not inherent in the events themselves.
“So, if an extremely rare four way dust mote collision occurs, don’t think ‘miracle.’ Improbable events are not impossible. Miracles don’t occur. Things don’t ‘happen for a reason.’ Horbgorbling happens.”

TA MARQUETTE

We say kaddish at the bridge
Marilyn stood on her great aunts porch.
In the twilight her eyes noted
each tiny shadow on each doorpost.
Though painted often her fingers and eyes
moved across the hollows were rested the mezuzahs
In 1938 they burn her synagogue.
In 1940 they rename her street Hitlerstrasse
In 1942 they sent her to Theresienstadt
In 1952 they sent her body home.
The town of Horb lies on the edge of the Black Forest
and the Jewish cemetery lie within that forest,
in there lies Hedwig Schwarz survivor of Terezín
by the river in the town where no longer lives a Jew.

HOUSTON KEYS

The annual Thanksgiving fight, it’s a tradition in our house, this year, it was over scrabble.
-Chris- Here you go, triple score! I win!
——-Said my wonderful son.
-Me- No way! HORBGORBLE is not a word.
-Chris- Yes it is, it means “Wander aimlessly.”
——-He was good and crafty. I would have to be extra smart to defeat him.
-Me- Now that’s just silly. There is no way it means that!
-Chris- Look it up, Dad.
——-He called my bluff.
-Me- Fine! I will!
-Chris- Good, now, get this fork out of your forehead old man!
-Me- ARRRRGH!
The emotional scars still remain.

Z

Every Thanksgiving, right there in the middle of the table, it’s the same goofy Pilgrim centerpiece my mother crocheted from a magazine pattern years ago.
I don’t remember a Thanksgiving without it.
Over the years, it’s faded and gotten a bit dusty. There’s all sorts of stains on it.
But it keeps coming back.
I call it the “Horbgorble.” And I tell the grandkids, it goes around the world eating bad children during the rest of the year.
Those aren’t gravy stains. They’re blood.
So they break the wishbone, they wish the Horbgorble won’t get them.
And it hasn’t.
Yet.

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Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)