Author: R.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Jon
• Serendipity
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

LIZZIE

A mother came to me.
She was holding a photograph.
It was her daughter’s.
A mother came to me with tears in her eyes.
She wanted to tell me about the stories.
She wanted to tell me about the singing. The painting.
“My daughter, you see…”
And she held the photograph close to her chest as if that would bring her daughter back.
“I’m writing a book, you see…”
And she poured her soul into it.
A mother came to me and whispered.
“It was too much…”
And I thought, it was. It was too much pain.

RICHARD

#1 – Excess

“You can’t have too much of a good thing”, my dad used to say, and I took him at his word.

First it was an excess of sweets and chocolate. Then, as I grew older, I discovered sex, drugs and rock and roll, so true to my dad’s advice I binged on the lot.

These days as I lie, morbidly obese, toothless, deaf, and mentally destroyed by the excesses of my youth, unable to move from my bed, most of my time is taken up with sleep.

As dad always said, you can’t have too much of a good thing.

#2 – Well, would it?

“Would it be too much to ask you to put the toilet seat down after you’ve used it?” She’d complain every morning, “And, while you’re at it, is it too much hassle to replace the toothpaste cap?”

Every Thursday…  “Is it too much trouble for you to put the bins out?”

Then the constant nagging “I suppose it’s too much to expect you might attempt the washing up, the laundry, the housework, the shopping?”

Maybe I come across as lazy, but it’s part of my ploy to make her divorce me…

I’d divorce her myself… 

But it costs, too much!J

TOM

Late For Tea

I was lucky enough to grow into the Beatles. In 1963 I was a mere 10 years old, not old enough to be even a teeny-bopper. But by 1969 I had six years of Beatle-ness under my musical belt.  Sgt. Pepper’s was height of cool in its day. My favorite track on the LP was: It’s all too much. It totally capture the growing gash in suburban-culture. Story goes Harrison’s wrote the song about his LSD trips. Six years later in the warm California sun I dropped up first tab of acid. Damn if George wasn’t spot on.  Too much

SERENDIPITY

You’ll let me know when the pain becomes too much, won’t you?

Of course you will… You’ll shout, scream and thrash about in your bonds, begging me to stop and pleading for mercy. 

Then, as the pain does indeed become too much to bear, your jaw will clamp so tightly your teeth splinter and shatter; you’ll strain so hard, the restraining wires slice through your flesh to the bone.

Then I’ll stop…

Not to save you from further pain: Nothing is further from the truth.

On the contrary, I’m saving you…

So we can do it all over again, tomorrow!

JON

No Elf Eats…

By

Jon DeCles

“Any liver at all is too much!”

“You’ve probably never had it cooked right.  You have to wash it thoroughly, then you put bacon on top and grill it for a few minutes, not too long, and then you drizzle maple syrup on it just before it’s done.”

“That is a total waste of bacon and maple syrup.  It still tastes like liver! In addition to the flavor, it has a texture that reminds me of dog shit.”

“Well what about pate´?  That’s delicious, and…”“It’s liver.  Too much iron.  It’s my Elf blood, on my mother’s side.  I’m Allergic!” 

Dug

By

Jon DeCles

Doug dug himself a hole in his backyard so that he could play at being a soldier in combat.  He thought of it as a foxhole because, like many boys, what he knew of war was a mashup of lingo from conflicts about which movies had been made, and a mixup of costume and equipment and technique and weaponry.  His parents did not discourage him.  It cost about the same as killing people in the endless series of first-person-shooter video games.

When he died his collection would have been worth a fortune had anyone been still alive to buy it.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s dad put an arm around his shoulders and walked him to his room. “Don’t worry about it too much, Billy. You’ll find, in time, that girls will become a very important part of your life.”
Billbert panicked when his father followed him into his room and said, “Have a seat, son. There are some things we probably should talk about.”
Billbert squirmed. “It’s okay, Dad. They teach us those things at school, now.”
“What? Oh. Of course, they do.” His dad cleared his throat. “But, the kids in our family line are different. When puberty arrives, they develop superpowers.”

PLANET Z

How much is too much?
Well, start with nothing.
A lot of people start with nothing.
Then, add a little.
Which is somewhere between not enough and nothing at all.
Then add some.
Not much, just a little more.
Which is more than a little.
And maybe just enough.
Then add some more to that.
Which is more than some ever have.
Add even more to that. And some more. A lot more.
More than you could possibly want. Or need.
At some point, you’ll wonder if you have too much.
That’s when you know you have too much.
Stop.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

RICHARD

#1 – Stupid?

Don’t I feel stupid? You’d think so, stood outside in the corridor while the rest of the class gets on with lessons; and I won’t feel stupid later in detention either.

I’m doing school on my own terms, and whilst all the other nerds and teachers’ pets are struggling with equations, grammar and historical facts, I’ll be chilling in the corridors and messing about after hours, inconveniencing the teachers and wasting their time.

I don’t feel stupid at all.

Just wait till I’m in my forties, with a minimum wage job, no prospects and no future…

Then I’ll feel stupid!

#2 – Breakdown

“That’s about the worst thing you can do”, laughed the mechanic. “Fill a diesel car with petrol, and it’s a complete drain and flush, and then prime the fuel system… Won’t be done until tomorrow!”

As he winched the car onto the flatbed, I was grateful for breakdown cover. I’d get a tow to my destination – a good four hundred miles down the road – and payment for a night in a hotel.

His last words as I jumped down from the truck: “Don’t you feel stupid?”

Nope.

I wouldn’t be coming back for the car… It’s not mine!

TOM

No need to apply pain, I can do that unaided

Don’t I feel stupid is pretty much the title of the home movies I run in my head on an unending time loop. I know shouting out out loud “Oh fuck” is a kin to blatantly admitting I’m bad shit crazy, but I got a lot screw ups to revisit at the most inopportune times, and each one it verbally cringe worthy. But of late I have found a sort of talisman, a purifying mantra, that oddly enough abates my person furies. With little thought at all I just internally muse, “ALL DEAD.” Seems to work like a champ.

SERENDIPITY

“Don’t!… I feel stupid”, you protested, as I dressed you up in my frilly underwear and scrawled ‘SLUT’ across your chest in bright red lipstick.

“Don’t be silly”, I murmured, “you said you wanted to try new things…”

I tied the blindfold, before slipping the noose around your neck, then waited until your struggles finally ceased, before scattering a handful of gay porn across the bed and heading back home.

You were found, next day, by the maid in that seedy hotel.

Death by sexual misadventure’ was the verdict.

‘The high life, by insurance payout’, made it all so worthwhile!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert’s parents waited for him in the living room when he got back from the party.

He swallowed.

His mother was all smiles. “How was the party, dear? Did you have fun?”

“Sure. I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Wait, son.” His father said. “Who else was there?”

“Just me.”

“Did you play any games?” His mother asked.

“Just one. And then she kissed me,” Billbert admitted.

“Oh? Billbert’s got a girl friend,” his father teased.

Billbert crossed his arms and scowled. “Don’t! I feel stupid enough as it is.”

His mother hugged him and said, “I think you’ll survive.”

PLANET Z

When Freddy doesn’t understand something, he’ll ask to slow things down a little.
I don’t see how slowing things down will make it easy for Freddy to understand.
If something is really complex, maybe he should be asking to dumb things down a little.
Or, in Freddy’s case, dumb things down a lot.
The problem is that there are some things too complicated to dumb down and simplify.
That’s when Freddy gets this glassy look on his face.
I’ve made the process of dumbing things down too complicated for him.
So, I stop, take a moment, and start again slower.