Mother? Mother?

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Mother really likes to play Scrabble.
We’ve played for thirty years now. Whenever I come back home, that Scrabble board is out and ready.
So when she went into the hospital for surgery, sure enough, that Scrabble board was there on the rolling table right next to all the food cups with straws in them.
We play for a bit, and I notice she’s occasionally pushing a black button.
“It’s for the morphine,” she says.
I hold her hand, click the button a few times, and she gets way-out loopy.
Maybe now she’s fully whacked out, I’ll win.
Mother?
Mother?

Weekly Challenge #24 – Stone

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Welcome to the twenty-fourth 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 last week’s winner T.A. Marquette: Stone.
Fifteen stories were submitted this week.
One rookie this week. Yay!
Plus there’s an extra-special dedication to former competitor Marcus Tee
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 for the 24th Weekly Challenge?
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Ted’s Podcast (no URL yet)
Caroline from Quadra
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Laieanna
Tomer Israeli the Ethnocentrist
T.A. Marquette of Footnote
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Rahel of Elms In The Yard
P.J. from No Deep Thoughts
Kolek from The Kolektive
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
B
William
Laurence Simon
The Brain-Damaged Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
CALEB

Ironically the people of PETS or People for the ethical treatment of stones, can’t abide by keeping stones as pets. They think they should all run free unfettered by man.
But I have a pet rock, and I’m not ashamed.
They’re a little hard to train at first. Why when I first got him, he would strain at the leash any time I tried taking him for a walk.
But then I took him to obedience school and now look at him.
Stony! Sit! Stay! Play dead! Roll over! Good Boy!
And you should see him fetch the morning paper.

TED’S PODCAST

Steve was born into proud family. Although his family didn’t have much, they knew where they came from. They were in fact, a cornerstone in their community. Steve’s brother Bob was quite successful in the catapult industry, so there was always pressure to do well, to make something of himself. To really be somebody.
It’s hard to become something you’re not, but Steve was determined. He had the genes. He was igneous. Although he lacked in viscosity, he was still born of magma. Steve was determined. Yes, one day, whatever it took, he would be taken for granite.

CAROLINE

Her marriage was great. Terry was loving, considerate and kind to the kids. From her friends perspective, she knew that much. What more could she want. Julie decided to take computer classes, showing Terry she could be more than just the nice little housewife and mother. She wanted him to be proud of her. It was their day out by themselves they walked around the old castle. She went alone to the top. She looked down. He was at his laptop. She knew what he was doing. The large stone in her hand would be enough. She let it fall.

LISA

Nathan had a gambling problem. This was why his girlfriend refused to marry him.
After a long period of reform, he presented Sylvie with a gorgeous ring. Feeling he’d redeemed himself, she accepted. Surely he couldn’t have afforded a stone this size if he’d still been gambling.
Sylvie took it to be cleaned. The presumptuous jeweller winked at her, “This is one of the finest Cubic Zirconia stones I’ve ever sold, you’d never know, would you?”
Later, sneaking home after a night of poker, Nathan found his mutilated belongings on the street, the ring on top. No explanations were necessary.

TOMER ISRAELI

NO TEXT SENT… kinda hard to hear… oh well.

STONE SOUP

There once was a famine.
People hoarded their food.
A soldier walked into their village
“No food here,” he was told. “Move along.”
“Can I make you some soup?”
Out came a cauldron, in went water.
With great ceremony he drew an ordinary stone
from a velvet bag and dropped it into the water.
“Mmmm,” said the soldier to himself quite loudly,
“I do like a tasty stone soup. BUT
stone soup with cabbage — better.”
A villager added a cabbage to the pot
Suddenly salt beef, potatoes,
onions, carrots, mushrooms appeared.
In the end there was food for all.

ANDREW IAN DODGE

The stone altar held the victim who had long since stopped resisting his bonds. He could see around but it was a blurry dream like vision. The man before him held a large ceremonial dagger the victim knew to be covered with ancient pre-deluvian symbols. He knew the chants that were wafting into his ears; knew them only too well as he’d sung them before the sacrifice of some unfortunate fellow. The chanting around him began to rise in volume, the guttural sounds becoming cacophonous with every word. Aziz would have sworn he heard it as it plunged towards his chest…

ELISSON

The summit was only fifty yards away. Sisyphus could practically taste it.
Heaving with all his strength, he struggled to keep pouring forward momentum into the massive round boulder. Droplets of sweat pattered in the dust around his feet.
Zeus, he could use a drink. But there would be no drink, no rest for him until he got that fucking boulder all the way to the top.
Ten more yards.
Suddenly, stabbing pain lanced through his left kidney. Gasping, he clutched his side and watched horrorstricken as the boulder rolled to the bottom.
Damn that stone. And damn that stone!

RAHEL

He awoke suddenly, his mind still hazy from the drug in his drink.
For one disoriented moment, he had no idea where he was. Then he saw the stone wall in front of him and stone walls on either side. When he tipped his head slightly backward, he saw the stone wall behind him.
He was lying on stone, too, his wrists and ankles held by four burly men. Even as he took this in, he saw the obsidian knife descending toward his chest.
He stayed calm, remembering that at times like these one always has a choice of attitude.

PJ

Looking around at her neighbor’s well manicured lawns, Paula decided she wanted to spruce things up a little bit.
She bought some plants at the local hardware store and spent the entire afternoon digging holes and planting an attractive assortment of greenery.
Then, she carefully chose just the right stepping stones and placed them in the dirt forming a lively little garden path.
Beautiful! Just like in a magazine” she smiled proudly.
The next morning (running late as usual) Paula caught her heel, then hit her head on those very stumbling blocks that she had so carefully created for herself.

KOLEK

Jebediah walked a stones throw along a stone lined path.
He threw a stone at a stone crab that had aroused his wrath.
He ate the stone crab and whatever’s at hand because he was stone broke,
a result of his hand being crushed years ago by a stony criminal bloke.
Rich folks, they wear stone-washed clothes to make a fashion statement,
But he was forced to wear old clothes ’cause he was no longer stonemason.
He cursed the bread, and went without meat and dreamed of precious stones,
And so he loved being stoned and being stone-deaf when living amongst the stones…

HOUSTON KEYS

The Sunday school teacher asked his class if they would like some bread. With a resounding yes they all cheered.
The teacher then gave each of them a round stone to emphasize the teachings of the Gospel of Matthew.
The teacher asked, “What kind of father gives you stones if you ask for bread?”
One of the kids piped up, “You would, you jerk!”
Taken aback by the sudden fury the teacher replied, “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
The rest of his sayings were drowned out by a hail of stones thrown from angry little hands.

B

It can be a sound or smell that takes us back to a time or place.
The smell of Aramis cologne always made Fran retch when the wind wafted the stench in her direction. Bringing back ugly memories of a monster she should never have loved.
She would reach into her pocket when ugliness would press upon her. Her touchstone.
A small, white stone nature had inlaid with quartz in the shape of a Magnolia.
Magnolias meant “Be not discouraged; better days are coming.”
Moonlight had revealed it and as it did on that night, it always vanquished the ugliness.

WILLIAM

After Sherry’s fiancee, Sam, died in a gruesome winch mishap,
there remained the matter of selecting a gravestone.
When a consoling relative offered to make the arrangements,
Sherry was grateful to be spared that task.
“Just a modest stone”, she suggested, “with an appropriate message.”
On the day of the funeral, Sherry viewed the stone for the first time.
The words she read upon it struck her like an iceball to the side of the
head.
“Oh no! How AWFUL!”, she cried.
Deeply engraved into the stone, the epitaph read:
Here lies Sam,
Sherry tore his guts out.
RIP

LAURENCE SIMON

Battered and bruised from a nightmare of a weekend, Jesus remembered the advice his father gave him through the Angel Gabriel.
“Lift with the legs, not the arms,” said the angel. “Otherwise, you might get a hernia.”
“What if I wear a support garment under my robe?” asked Jesus.
“You might not always have one,” said the angel. “Trust in ergonomics.”
Breathing deeply, Jesus rubbed his belly until the pain subsided.
Then, he hunkered down, laid his shoulders into the stone, and thrusted with his legs until he could feel the heavy seal sliding from the front of his tomb.

PLANET Z

Don’t call Dwight “The Apeman” – he doesn’t like being called that.
Sure, it’s his last name. It spells out Apeman. And Apeman isn’t French or German or Swahili no matter how many dashes, umlauts, and squiggles you stick over it or dangle from it.
Then there’s the fact that Dwight physically resembles an ape-man hybrid. It’s as if his mother of father had a really good time in the Monkey House one night, or he escaped from some Mad Scientist’s lab.
Oh, and there’s the fact that he’ll brain you with his stone axe if you call him “Apeman.”


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 Oldield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Battery

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The bald black dude tells me that humanity is enslaved by machines and that we are nothing but batteries to them.
He holds up a battery, frowning.
“What?” I ask. “I’m just a double-A battery? Why can’t they just buy one from the store?”
The bald dude shakes his head. “You’re not getting the point.”
“What about a midget?” I ask. “Are they hearing aid battery sized?”
“Wait,” said the dude. “Just wait a second, okay?”
“Is this why there aren’t A or B batteries?” I ask.
He leaps into the air samurai style and kicks me in the head.

Starfield Of Dreams

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Aliens landed at Ray’s farm and wandered around, looking for cattle to mutilate and asses to probe.
When they found none, they walked up to the farmhouse and knocked on the door.
Ray racked his shotgun and opened it. “What the hell do you fuckers want?”
“We come in peace, blah blah blah,” said the alien commnander. “Didn’t there used to be cattle here?”
“I gave them up,” said Ray. “I built a baseball field and people came from all over to watch ghosts play baseball.”
The aliens thanked Ray, went to the field, and tried to ass-probe a ghost.

In The Cards

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You know that special psychic powers test with the cards that have the different shapes on them?
One person looks at a card and the other tries to read their mind to see what they see?
Well, they tested me for that and found that I could psychically see them no better than guessing. One out of five.
But when people tried to read my mind to see them, they got zero right. Worse than guessing.
Apparently, I have the psychic power to confuse people trying to read my mind.
Or I’m just on another wacko wavelength on my own.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 60

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The wedding day with Mary Todd came and went, but Abe was nowhere to be found.
He had gone insane, writing to his friend John Stuart that he was the most miserable man alive.
John found Lincoln sitting in a garbage heap, moaning.
“What’s wrong, Brother Abraham?” asked Stuart.
“She snores,” said Abe.
“Wear earplugs,” said Stuart.
“She’s crazy,” said Abe. “At night, she waves a knife at me.”
“That’s you, stupid,” said Stuart. “You sleepwalk while holding a knife. Then you wake up in front of mirrors.”
Abe and Mary Todd were married.
Stuart gave them a knife set.

Soaking Solo

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Humanity heads to Mars tomorrow.
Or, more specifically, me.
Someone came up with the brilliant idea that it makes more sense to send one man out to Mars than an entire crew.
I’ll be alone for the year it takes to get there, land, take off, and come back.
I was told to “load up” on things I’d miss during that time in low-gravity isolation.
So, I’ve hired one hooker after another and spent as much time I possibly can with them in a Jacuzzi.
I’ll probably miss the Jacuzzi more. There’s just no substitute for a long, hot soak.

Esther’s Ghosts

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Esther had her grandson go up into the attic and bring down the box from the corner.
“It’s for the museum,” she said, rubbing her wrist where the numbers were.
Later that week, the museum thanked her for her contributions, but insisted that she sit for an interview.
“We’d like to add your memories to the collection,” they said.
“Let those memories die with me, please,” said Esther.
“Without ghosts to haunt us, it could happen again,” said the museum. “How easily we forget.”
Esther nodded, hoping that there would never again be the need to keep awful memories around.

Weekly Challenge #23 – Cat Burglar

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Welcome to the twenty-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 last week’s winner Rahel: Cat burglar.
Twelve stories were submitted this week.
No rookies this week. Boo!
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 for the 23nd Weekly Challenge?
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Laieanna
Caroline from Quadra
Jim P.
Rahel from Elms In The Yard
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Kolek from The Kolektive
Tommy from KAG Report
Cynthia
The Mystery Man from Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
TA MARQUETTE

Watson turned his head towards the violin.
“What is that your playing, Holmes?” ask the Doctor.
Without a glance of notice he replied
“The Cat Burglar’s Lament.”
“Oh Yes, it is February 25.” Quipped Watson.
“Pity poor Peace,” said Holmes.
“I will not,” huffed Watson “he stole the very violin your playing.”
“And all the while as you slept in that very chair.”
“Not the point Holmes. Charles Peace was a thief and murderer.
Marwood’s long drop was too kind an end.”
“Oh Watson, He was more than that and dissevered less.
For when he played he’d steal your heart.”

CALEB

“Why do they call this cat burglary anyway? We’re not stealing cats. There’s plenty of cats as it is, who the hell would buy a used cat much less a stolen used cat?”
“Shut up”
“And we’re certainly not stealing from cats. Cats don’t own anything. Cats don’t have pockets. Why would anyone try to burgle cats?”
“Would you please shut up?”
“Sure, I’ll shut up just as soon as you can tell me why they call this cat burglary when there’s no cats involved.”
“It’s because we’re supposed to be quiet. Like cats are.”
“Oh! Sorry about that.”
“yeah”

ELISSON

Cold wind rattled the bushes as Pak Rhee plastered himself against the side of the building, making himself invisible.
The street was empty. It was time for him to make his move.
He hoisted himself up and slid the pry-bar under the window’s edge. Ten seconds later, he was inside the elderly lady’s apartment. Working quickly, padding from room to room in complete silence, he filled his sack.
It was a good haul. Fifteen of ’em. Crazy old woman.
The manager of Korea House handed Rhee a fat envelope. “Dinner?”
Rhee declined politely. He had never cared for Seoul food.

ANDREW

Morris the cat burglar was pleased with himself when he got home from his latest foray. It was this challenge that led him off to a fortress-like house on the outskirts of Camden, Maine. He was on holiday and just needed to do a job. He’d not even bothered to look in the box he stole; merely assuming it was valuable on account of its location in the house. He barely had time to scream as the shape crashed through the roof and grabbed him by the shoulders lifting him out of the broken building. He never understood his fate.

LAIEANNA

“Where did you hide it?” the uniformed figure barked.
“Hide what, officer?” she purred.
“Lieutenant,” he growled back. “The necklace. We know you stole it.”
She playfully swatted at him. “Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Others in the room panted, excitedly, their eyes never leaving her.
“Very well,” he replied, baring his teeth. “Search her again, boys.”
With no valid charges, she was released. Barely out of the station, the convulsions began and up came a hairball. Smiling, she pulled away the wet fur to reveal her prize. She liked shiny things that dangled before her green eyes.

CAROLINE

Jake couldn’t believe he’d landed the red head. She was slinky and smart. His mate Barry always got the girl. This time it was him. What a great cook too. She’d stayed over last night – and that was a night to remember. Then he’d woken to frying bacon and steaming coffee. Wow he couldn’t believe his luck. What tales he’d have to brag about at the plant. She said she stay and clean up after he left. Nice. He got home around 5 with blissful anticipation. The door was a-jar. He’d been totally cleaned out. Cool cat burglar indeed.

JIM P.

With graceful ease, Raffles slid through the penthouse window and glided
silently across the marble floor.
Suddenly, the lights came on and a woman’s voice yelled, “Stop where you
are! Acts 2:38!”
(Repent and be baptized, in the name of Jesus Christ so that your sins may
be forgiven.)
Raffles froze in place, not even daring to turn around. He stayed that way
until the police arrived.
“Why didn’t you just run away after the lady yelled a scripture at you?”
asked the cop cuffing Raffles.
“What scripture?” Raffles shot back. “She said she had an axe and two .38s!”

LISA

Myrtle didn’t know why the detectives were questioning her so harshly. She had no idea where the jewelry under her stairs had came from. She was a church-going woman, certainly not a criminal!
The detectives received a call about another similar robbery; the suspect was shot dead at the scene. Still suspecting Myrtle’s involvement, they brought in a picture of the deceased suspect and asked her if she knew him.
She cried out in shock as she recognized her old cat, Mr. Dickers behind that hole in his forehead and all the blood.
He had always loved things that sparkled.

TOMMY

Too much light, it was easier in the dark. At least the mark was looking the wrong way, maybe he’d be OK even without shadows. He crept silently away from the window, he’d learned you had to watch for everything the kids left on the floor. Toys were annoying, but it was the crunch of a candy wrapper that he worried about the most, you just couldn’t take that back when it happened. He made it across the room, grabbed his prize and silently worked his way back to the window unnoticed clutching the treat between his teeth. Stupid dog.

CYNTHIA

He peered into the room before venturing through the open window. He saw the object of his desire just a short distance from him.
He crawled into the dark room, careful as not to disturb his prey. On tiptoes he glided across the parquet floor. All he needed was just one more step and he would have it in his grubby hands.
As he reached out to grab his treasure, it hissed angrily and a claw swiped across his face. He yelped in pain and jumped back. Unfortunately this was the trials and tribulations of being a career cat burglar.

And it just wouldn’t be a Weekly Challenge without the Champion of the Planet of Mad Bards…
PLANET Z

In space, nobody can hear you breaking and entering.
It’s not so easy to be a cat burglar in the orbital colony stations. Cameras are everywhere, watching for leaks or stray repair robots.
One does not just pop in through an airlock. They’re damn noisy, with sirens and flashing lights.
If you piggyback on a cargo vessel, your additional mass along with the mass of your loot will be detected.
So how do I do it?
I’m not telling you. Because I don’t need any competition, and I don’t trust you enough at this point.
Now how much can I get for these titantium servopods?


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 Oldield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Disarming

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Maria Lopez was found dead in the breakdown lane, sitting in her SUV with her arm ripped out of its socket.
The first of many victims. Many more.
Pretty soon, you couldn’t drive the highways without passing one.
Then, a one-armed soccer coach crashed into an Emergency Room, covered with blood.
“I was talking on my cell phone, and he attacked me,” he said before dying.
The Cell Phone Vigilante was caught stalking an off-duty cop.
He’d lost his daughter to a careless driver talking on a cell phone. So, for revenge, he wandered the city and took their arms.