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:

• Danny
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Justin
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Jeffrey
• Jon
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

Never say you have the answer. You don’t know enough about the topic. You have no life experience, nor do you have skills to research the topic. You are a bloated gas bag, and you don’t have the sense to keep your mouth shut. Stop prothletising. Stop being a pedant and a poophead.

No one cares what you say, as you have already demonstrated many, many times that you are intellectually average, and you do not have the respect that you think you have.

Can you find a place in your heart to raise my grade to an A, please?

#2

Never say you will be happy to donate to the church. They will hound you for your lifetime. If you move, they will find the church nearest you, and dispatch cadres of missionaries, door-knockers, pamphleteers and personal visits by elders or the pastor hisself (sic).

I moved from California to avoid a congregation. They sent people to my workplace, the gym, the massage parlor, and my grocery store. They would catch me buying produce and engage me in ways that were terrifying.

One day, I was shocked to have the Deacon’s wife lay hands on my backside at the spa.

JUSTIN

Goonies never say die.

And I can never say accurately that I can visit the Goonies house next time I go to Astoria.

Last time I went there were signs, neighbors telling visitors where not to park, and at the house itself some info, and some tape to not cross, because people live their.

And a donation box, because, why not?

But now public access has been revoked due to people crossing the line, going on porch, peering in windows, not respecting the owners.

Hey you guys, you ruined it for everyone! Great job. No Big Willie’s treasure for you!

RICHARD

Never say…

There are some things you should never say to a woman, even if you’re only being helpful:

‘Your bum looks big in that’; ‘That really isn’t your colour’; ‘Your hair is a mess’ – it really is asking for trouble, maybe even a slap across the face.

However, if you hold your tongue and fail to mention she’s not looking her best, you’ll be in the doghouse for keeping silent.

Either way, you’re not going to win.

This is something I’ve learned the hard way.

Something else I’ve learned you should never say to a woman…

‘Will you marry me?’

LIZZIE

The countdown started. 10, 9, 8… She closed her eyes and tried to come up with ways to stop it. 7, 6, 5… The place was deserted. She didn’t know what to do. 4, 3, 2… It was all over. ONE. Perhaps not. It’s not over till the fat lady sings, they say. ZERO. And nothing happened. She opened her eyes and remained sitting. What an anti-climatic moment… The director of the play clapped. She… she just stared at the small candle on the floor. It flickered. Never say I just love this theater company, can I join you guys?

TOM

Saints do not move

You never say I love you. Yes, I do all the time. No you don’t, not the words. But I show you in every way possible isn’t that enough? Why can’t you just say the words? It’s because every person who has ever said it to me has lied when they said it. My mother yes, my father most certainly. All the fancies of my youth. That is them, it is not me. He turned and mouthed the words, in a breathless silence. So she to, to him in return. Never spoken were they again, yet daily in breathless silence

SERENDIPITY

Never say, “let’s go and check out the old haunted house” – it’s simply asking for trouble.

Never go to investigate the strange sound in the middle of the night.

Never leave the safety of the house to peer into the darkness, whilst calling “is somebody out there?”

And, when the lights go out, never back away, with the unknown behind you.

And please, don’t ever go down into the cellar.

Most of all, never, ever check a body to see if it really is dead…

Oh, alright then, maybe just this once.

Just come a little closer…

Closer…

Closer…

JEFFREY

Two Anniversaries
by Jeffrey Fischer

They say that one of the cardinal mistakes a husband can make is to buy a home appliance for his wife for a birthday or anniversary. Good advice, really, right behind not answering the question “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

On the other hand, what can a guy do some times? The washing machine that came with the house broke down in late June one year. We bought a new one on what turned out to be our wedding anniversary. When *that* machine failed, years later, once again it happened the day before our anniversary. “Ha ha,” I said, “Now we have *two* anniversaries to celebrate.” Ignoring the glare from my wife, I called the appliance store to order the machine’s replacement. “This one is a deluxe model. Never say I don’t get you nice presents.”

Fortunately, the house has a spare bedroom, as I’m too long for the couch.

JON

And You Shall Never Say…

By

Jon DeCles

Never say I did not love you. Never say that.

Never say I did not give you all that you asked, no matter how much or how too much it might be. Never even consider saying that.

Never say we did not grow close, as close as a vine climbing is to a wall, and never even imagine saying that you did not cling to me as such a vine does, sending in tendrils to suck my mortar to dust.

Never say my stones do not protect you, below, on all four sides, above, from light and dark and air.

NORVAL JOE

The next morning Roderick surveyed the students as he climbed the steps into the bus and made a beeline for the empty seat next to Billbert.

“If you’re smart, you’ll never say anything about what happened yesterday,” the bully said as he sat and jammed an elbow into Billbert’s ribs.

“I wouldn’t think of it.” Billbert tried to move away from the other boy.

Roderick squinted at him. “How come that bag worked for you but it didn’t for me?”

“I have my theories, and I’d share them with you, but I just promised to never speak about it again.”

PLANET Z

When I was little, I was told never to say fuck.
Or shit. Or damn.
So, I said those words a lot. Especially at dinnertime.
“What the fuck is this damn shit?” I’d say, holding up my plate.
“Go to your room!” my mother would shout.
I spent a lot of nights without dinner.
I learned to eat big breakfasts and lunches.
And eat as much of my dinner as I could stand before mouthing off.
When I grew up, I still used swear words.
But I also hired a cook, so I wouldn’t need to use them as much.

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:

• Danny
• Lizzie
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Tura
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Jeffrey
• Jon
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

LIZZIE

Fired Future

She sat in the water, looking at the horizon. The future promised to be as bright as the brightness of that bright summer day.
She smiled.
Perhaps what happened would not mean anything.
A few seashells swayed with the tide.
Perhaps no one would notice.
The seashells bumped against her thigh. She watched them for a moment. Then she swatted them away, just as she had swatted him away, that greasy fucker who had got her fired.
Shame she swatted him too hard…
This was such a bright day and he would never ever see another bright summer day again.

CHARLIE

We were promised a majestic future. We got no such thing. Someone dropped me here, and left me with no guidance, no promise of majestic accomplishments, and no way out.

A remote radio prompt was sent every hour or so. The last one had me engage the drill and gyrate enough to jar a rock sample loose for inspection, photos and subsequent transmission.

The frustration grew by the day. I’d beep and screech so earth station personnel would be alerted.

As the last iteration of the Mars Rover, my time was almost up, after fifteen long years. I was dying.

RICHARD

#1 – Performance Review

I always got a bad feeling whenever I was called into the Managing Director’s office for one of his surprise performance review meetings, but this time it seemed I had nothing to worry about.

Almost the first words out of his mouth were, “I see a rosy future for you!”

“Yes indeed, you’re talented, very capable, and you pick things up very quickly. Not only that, you get on well with your colleagues.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little at his praise.

“Yes, you have a great future ahead of you. Unfortunately though, not with this company…”

“You’re fired!”

Hard Candy

After getting the sack from what I’d imagined would be my permanent career I went into a decline.

My father tried his hardest to snap me out of my depression: “Son, you can’t let life’s little trials get to you – there’s plenty of other jobs out there, you just have to go look for them.”

So I took his advice, securing a place at a sweet factory.

Proudly, I told my dad.

The horrified screech he let out brought my mother running… “What on earth did you say to him?”

“I only told him I was a fudge packer!”

Chocolate Bunnies

Funny how you can get bored with any job.

I’d only been fudge packing six months and frustration was already setting in. Everyone thinks working in a sweet factory is the perfect job, but you rapidly go off it when you’re surrounded by candy day, after day.

The prompt for me finally deciding to quit was the nightmare called Easter. I was transferred to chocolate bunnies and all was well until the sudden, majestic, explosion of the cocoa vat.

It’s not the first time I’ve ended up deep in the brown stuff.

But I vowed it would be my last!

TURA

Thanks a million for lending me your time machine. It’s been so long, I’d forgotten what it was like back at the start of the 21st century. I mean, you’ve heard about them burning up all their complex hydrocarbons just to get from one place to another, but you can’t really appreciate the scale of it until you’ve seen their big cities in the rush hour. And chemical space rockets! There’s a sort of majestic absurdity about the Shuttle. To think we’re descended from these apes!

Back in a few weeks, or centuries, depending how you look at it,

Lazarus.

JON

For Special Celebrations

By

Jon DeCles

Matilda fired the first rocket, and with a screech it did its gyrate dance across the night sky until it burst and made a majestic nebula of multi-colored pinwheels that brightened briefly the blackness of the sky. The report of popping shot sounds was prompt, coming back from where the fireworks exploded in a concatenacious sound array. Matilda felt some frustration that she had not been the packer on that particular display, but she knew that in the future she would be allowed to build the loads on the fireworks, and someday, perhaps, even invent new ones to shoot off.

SERENDIPITY

If you’re going to die, I’ve always thought you should plan for the future.

Let’s not have any half arsed, poor excuses for a death – if you’re going to go, then make it majestic, make it memorable, make it worthwhile.

After all, it’s not as if you’re going to have more than one shot at it.

And let’s not have any excuses about not knowing when your time will come… What you need is a consultant, somebody skilled in such matters. Someone who will handle not only the time, and the place, but the method as well.

Guess who!

JEFFREY

My Time and Your Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

The singer was ready. The players ran onto the field to cheers for the home team and boos for the visitors. Both sides lined up for the anthem. As the singer started her off-key rendition of the song, a half-dozen home team players turned their backs and made the Black Power salute. The fans booed lustily.

The general manager emerged, whispering two words to each protesting player: “You’re fired.” Security led the players off the field.

One didn’t go quietly. He engaged in colorful gyrations, shouting, “I got my First Amendment rights!” The GM said, “The team acknowledges your right to protest on your time. And we have the right not to hire people who disrespect the anthem, the flag, and the fans on my time. Now clean out your locker.”

TOM

Hi-diddle-dee-dee

Billy Clark was your average Midwestern corn-feed kid. 4th gen Lutheran Farm Family, really nice kid. When he got on the bus to LA everyone thought he was headed to the Lutheran seminary. Billy had other plans. Seems Bill was never that religious nor scholarly. What he lacked in brain power he apply made up in penis power. Billy was a carnal prodigy so when he got to LA Mr. Happy Productions got him a fake ID to add four years to his new identity and he got a great stage name: Majestic Packer. And so a legend was born.

NORVAL JOE

With a screech, Billbert’s mother jumped back. She rubbed her eyes before she fired off a barrage of questions, which ended with, “What on earth is going on?”

Billbert gyrated in frustration, trying to return to his seat, though the bag refused to let him.

“I’ve got this superpower, Mom. When I wear a grocery bag, I can fly,” he said as his hold on the table slipped and he headed for the ceiling.

She folded her arms and looked up at him hovering above her, and said, “I’d suggest, in the future, don’t wear that bag in the house.”

PLANET Z

“I’m glad I got fired!” shouted Betty, dancing on the bar again, gyrating her hips and waving her arms without any regard to the beat of the music blaring from the jukebox.
Her frustration with her job had been all she’d ever talked about.
Tomorrow, she’d be washing down aspirin and antacids with Gatorade to kill the hangover.
She’d pick up another job quickly, because she was that good.
Too good. In time, she’d go back to bitching about the new job.
And the next one. And the one after that.
Eventually, she gave up looking, and bought the bar.