Author: R.

Weekly Challenge #626 – Camping

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:

Myst watches Possum

CHARLIE

I’ve never been a camper. Sorry. Once at a party in Frisco, I dressed up as a chubby daughter of Lesbos for a high camp fest that my art school threw.

High camp was in at the time. My aesthetic was a form and demonstration of inverted attributes of beauty, value and taste. “Camping it up” was the strategy for the whole weekend. My friends still talk about it.

Today, many years later, my taste in camp is confined to reading The National Enquirer, watching Cuban pop singers, and watching lustless porn with the sound turned off.

Lifetime NRA Member.

#2

Camping usually is family affair with my family. We pack two, unmuffled, diesel generators, the dogs and the miniature pigs, and the large screen TV and stereo gear. We bought six air mattresses and a motorized hammock that can hold the whole family.

Target practice, archery, lawn darts, naked volleyball, and a portable Sanikan take up the rest of the room in the utility trailer. The Sanikan is pumped out by the local plumbing shop twice a week. We have plenty of hot water due to the propane heaters and storage tanks.

We relish the flash pictures of Mother Nature.

RICHARD

Camping

I hate camping!

Ever since trips to ‘The Great Outdoors’ as a youngster, I’ve loathed anything to do with tents, sleeping bags and portaloos… How anyone can enjoy that sort of thing beats me!

It’s cramped, cold, everything smells musty, and the slightest hint of rain means that everything will remain damp and uncomfortable for the duration.

Then there’s the bugs and all the other unpleasantness that others pretend to enjoy.

Not me though. I’ll stay in a hotel with a decent bar, a comfortable bed, room service and air conditioning.

Or, better still, why bother? I’ll stay at home!

LIZZIE

“It’s cold and I don’t even like camping.” And Annie slammed the door behind her.
Why did Annie have the final word about everything, thought Paula.
A pair of curious eyes looked inside the house.
Why couldn’t they go camping in the winter? They just needed a few extra sweaters. And besides, Paula really wanted to see that stag again.
When she turned around, he was there. She didn’t dare to move. They looked at each other. And that’s how the word camping took on a completely different meaning, as the stag came back for a visit every day.

SERENDIPITY

A friend introduced me to living under canvas many years ago. He would constantly be extolling the virtues of getting close to nature, becoming one with the environment and living in harmony with the forest.

That’s not the reason I camp out in the wilds and avoid cities and civilisation; my reasons have nothing to do with living as nature intended.

It’s a practicality, as far as I’m concerned – the further from habitation I keep, the less likely the cops will catch up with me.

Together with the added bonus that it’s easy to dispose of bodies out here!

TOM

Nature Boy, Not

I’m not an avid camper. I’m an urbanite. When we travel we expect a mint on the pillow, not a tree root to the spine. “Camping allow you a closer connection to nature.” So does a weekend with Ebola. The only way to get me into the wood, to “CAMP” there had better be a cabin, a bank of electoral plugs, and oh yes, WIFI. But Tom the purpose of camping is to remove yourself from the tyranny of the modern world. Oh and walking 10 miles hauling a 90 pound pack, to dine on freeze dry food is freedom. Nup

JON

No More Camping Trips!

By

Jon DeCles

It was to be an idyllic Saturday. My buddy was coming over and we could watch old movies and opera on the big screen TV. My son, Master of the Media, was to be away with my wife on a camping trip. He normally dominates the usage of the TV, but he assured us the electronics would be free for our use. If need be, my nephew could advise us on how it worked.

We could not turn it on. My nephew could turn it on, but not make it go. His son got us a picture, but nothing more.

TURA

Camping
———
You need less than you think to camp in the wilderness. Who needs a tent? Make your shelter from tree branches. No need to carry food, you can live off the land. As for clothes, a properly trained human body needs only its natural strength. To wander naked with nothing through the empty places is real living, not slowly dying in cities. One taste and you’ll never go back.

That’s what I tell them for $10,000 a day at corporate team-building retreats. And now I have fans who actually do it! I’m almost tempted to try it myself.
———

PHILIP NORVAL JOE CARROLL

Billbert settled down onto the roof of the library. Giddy from escaping the bully he fought the desire to laugh out loud so that he could hear what Roderick said on the ground below.
“Get down here with that bag or I’m gonna kick your skinny butt.”
Billbert considered camping out on the roof for the rest of his life. But why? With his plastic grocery bag, he could fly anywhere.
Making sure to stay out of Roderick’s view, Billbert circled around and landed on the ground near his locker. Safely locking the bag away he hurried to his class.

PLANET Z

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates looked at raids as work.
George looked at them as camping trips.
He’d pack all kinds of things for the raid, such as a portable stove, a change of clothes, and meals ready to eat.
“You don’t need all of that,” said the captain. “Just steal food during the raid..”
This assumed that the pirates would succeed.
Which they didn’t.
George quickly changed clothes and posed as a lost tourist.
The townspeople welcomed him. “Sorry for the mess,” they said “Want to watch us hang some pirates?”

No Kill Shelter Jerky

Stacy’s cat vanished the other day.
The neighbor kid Billy brought over some teriyaki jerky as a condolence gift.
It was delicious.
“I have to confess,” said Billy. “I made it out of your cat.”
Stacy ate the whole bag anyway. “Do you have any more?” she asked.
They set out traps and caught a few strays.
LOST CAT posters appeared on every lamp post.
Stacy volunteered at the local shelter.
She smuggled out cats in her backpack.
The shelter owner didn’t care.
“It’s either that or drown them in the lake,” he said.
He suggested barbecue flavor. And sweet-and-sour.

Migrates

In the Northern Hemisphere, most birds fly South for the Winter.
Just as in the Southern Hemisphere, most birds fly North for their Winter.
Except for birds that can’t fly, like Kiwi or Ostriches or Penguins, of course.
I’m not sure what they do.
Do they dig burrows and hide in them?
Do they check into motels?
Or do they hop on trains?
Because I’m sure that they aren’t allowed on buses or planes.
Maybe cargo ships. There’s a lot of cargo ships out there.
But they tend to go from China to America.
And oil tankers just carry oil.

The Grime

Most people use trackpads or wireless laser-mice these days, but I insist on using an old-fashioned mouse with a ball in it.
Of course, the ball accumulates grime, and I have to clean it out.
Not just so that I can control the mouse, but also prevent the grime from coalescing and achieving intelligence.
The pulsating glob managed to point and click its way into my word processor, and it worked up some kind of manifesto.
I pulled out the ball and scraped out the grime.
No need for a wireless laser-mouse yet. This time, I’ll use some antibacterial wipes.

Penrose

Back in high school, I tried out for the school’s marching band.
I wasn’t good at any traditional marching band instrument, such as a trumpet or tuba or slide trombone. I couldn’t even learn how to beat a drum.
“This is going to be impossible,” said the band director. “You’ll need an impossible instrument.”
He pulled open a drawer and lifted a strange twisted triangle that hurt my eyes to look at it.
“Here’s the Penrose,” he said, handing to to me. “Go practice on the stairwell.”
I tapped the triangle and climbed up the stairs… and up… and up…

Insurance Coverage

A werewolf bit George.
Now, George is a werewolf.
He does his best to maintain his condition.
During the full moon, he locks himself in his basement with raw meat.
It’s very expensive, but his insurance company covers the cost.
They didn’t at first.
Luckily, he lives near an executive with the insurance company.
George showed up at the executive’s door with a stack of LOST DOG and LOST CAT posters.
“I’m still hungry,” said George. “You love your wife and kids, don’t you?”
The meat deliveries were approved with one condition.
“Can you please eat my mother-in-law?” he asked.

Weak by Serendipity

People ask where my wickedness came from… I’m not sure, but there’s one day that clearly stands out in my mind.

It was the day the fair came to town, and the big, ugly brute at the ‘Try Your Strength’ machine laughed in my face when I asked for a go.

“This is a man’s game”, he said, “not for weak little girls like you”

That’s when I grabbed him by the balls and started to squeeze as hard as I could, and I didn’t stop until his screaming ceased, as he slumped unconscious to the floor.

Who needs strength?

Word Dice

It’s not easy to write about something different and new every day for over ten years.
That’s why I made a set of writing dice.
Each face has a different word on it.
I shake the dice in a cup and pour them out.
Then, I look at the words, and I let my imagination run free.
Sometimes, the ideas come easily, and other times all I can think about is “dice.”
So, I wander to a nearby craps game, and I lose a hundred bucks.
I’d better write and sell a story quick before the month’s rent is due.

Weekly Challenge #625 – Weak

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:

Black cat

DUANE

You call us old and say we’re weak

You think the boomers are meek.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you,

you should be seen and not speak.

We’re your moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas.

Grew up with swings and seesaws.

We didn’t need helmets and pads,

or playground safety laws.

You say we spent all your money,

on pensions and social security.

How much did you plan on making,

with your new liberal arts degree?

Some day our role you’ll take on.

You’re gonna miss us when we’re gone.

My last words to you millennials,

everybody just STAY OFF MY LAWN!

NORVAL JOE

Bilbert took a couple steps and jumped into the air. Again, only a weak buzzing from the poket of his backpack and he landed back on his feet.
“That’s pretty weak,” Roderick said. “It’s too bad you made fun of me like that. Now, I’m going to have to beat you up.”
Frantically, Billbert pulled off the backpack and opened the buzzing pocket.
His eyes lit up when he saw the plastic grocery bag. Stepping through the leg holes, he pulled up the bag. Holding on with one hand, he leapt into the air and flew out of Roderick’s reach.

JON

Weak On The Concept

By Jon DeCles

Yesterday I was shopping at Safeway. The cheerful female voice of the omnipresent commercial announcement was burbling on and on about the sandwiches one could purchase in the deli department. I heard in astonishment that one could get sandwiches featuring ‘delicious gluten-free meats’ from the deli case.

People who write advertising copy often have impressive degrees from universities, much like people who copy-edit books for publishers. They are really good at putting the right spin on their words. They are universally weak when it comes to the content of their copy.

I got into hundred word because of gluten-free copy-writing.

TOM

Some Like it Beyond Hot

Allan dipped the spoon into the bowl. “It’s still weak,” he said to Colin. “Well we’ve add both the Red Devil and Green Devil. A mess of chills that would incinerated a goat’s digestive track, and the pepper both Carolina Reaper and Trinidad Moruga Scorpion. What left?” Allan reached up to a shelf containing an unmarked bottle. Dropped an eye dropper down the neck. Drew up a single drop of liquid. “The juice of Pepper X.” “You’re out of your fucking mind, but be it far from me to curtail your insanity. Allan down the sauce. “Not weak,” he rasped

JEFFREY

The Inexplicable Force
by Jeffrey Fischer

Scientists have found four fundamental forces in the universe: the gravitational and electromagnetic forces, and the weak and strong forces. More recently, they have uncovered a fifth force, more powerful than the others.

Ever wonder why hipsters like bad-tasting beer, or overpaying for pretentious-sounding dishes in restaurants? Why are some rich people drawn to the Prius? And how is it that the woman who is clearly out of the guy’s league besotted with him? It’s the inexplicable force! Striking seemingly at random, it becomes the superglue of physics. You won’t find the hipster trying a decent beer or the Prius driver learning that gasoline-powered engines in decent-looking cars are the way to travel.

And Sarah Jane… pure logic says she should dump that schlub of a boyfriend for me, but it never happens. Yup, the inexplicable force in action.

LIZZIE

“My stomach is weak,” she said, a tray filled with amazing food looking back at her.
At the restaurant, they were used to her moaning. But she ended up gobbling it all down.
One day, they dared her to cook. She hesitated, but she wasn’t one to run away from a challenge.
When the insurance company showed up, it was impossible to identify where the kitchen was, and it was nearly absurd to even attempt to tread through the barrier of debris by the front door.
That’s when they heard, “My stomach is weak and now my leg hurts…”

RICHARD

#1 – Weaker sex?

People who say that women are the weaker sex have clearly never met my wife!

That’s not to say she doesn’t ask me to carry the shopping from the car, take the bins out, remove stuck jar lids and do all the heavy jobs in the garden.

Not that you can blame her, after all, I’m six foot three in my socks and built like the proverbial brick outhouse, and I was a professional wrestler in my heyday.

But she doesn’t make me do all those things because I can handle it; she does it because she can handle me!

#2 – Make mine a double

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s my drinks weak.

Weak, insipid, tasteless tea or coffee is a crime against humanity, and there’s nothing worse than being served something undrinkable when visiting friends. I smile, take a sip, then leave it to cool, untouched, at my side.

It’s hard to be polite, in those situations, but I try.

I don’t like my alcohol weak either. Forget the ice and water, forget the mixers: Give it to me straight.

A double, at least.

But then, it’s even harder to be polite.

Probably why I’m no longer invited to friends for drinks!

CHARLIE

Never weak in any way. nor surrendering to any kind of pressure. I’ve survived indigenous people’s wrist burns, and dozens of nuclear wedgies during school gym classes. I still have some pencil lead in my buttock from the pencil Pete Poggi stuck under me as I sat down in chemistry class in the tenth grade.

Today, as an independent business person, I exercise my will and demonstrate my strength. If I get a new client that is a lawyer, insurance man, dentist or doctor, I add fifty percent to the hourly rate when I invoice them for computer network maintenance.

#2

My cousin has a weak mind, and a brittle marriage. Her husband has taken up with a skank he met at his AA meeting. They are both out of work, and they like the weed as much as the gin and Ranier Ale.

She called and asked if I would meet with her. She hopes I will help her “take care” of her old man after she gets a big policy on his life.

I figure that we can do it next time he changes the oil in his pickup. I’d kick the jackstands out, and collect half the policy.

PLANET Z

The strong survive and the weak die.
That’s what my boxing coach always said.
So, when I killed him, that’s what I said to the cops.
Okay, so I punched him after he caught me robbing the gym after hours.
But it isn’t what you think.
He said I could keep the money if I beat him in the ring, bare-knuckles.
Final exam, he called it.
And I guess I passed, because I laid him out with one punch.
Cops didn’t agree. Neither did the judge.
Twenty years.
Now I fight in the prison gym, and the guards place bets.

Tax Cheater

Sylvia cheats on her taxes.
She’s been spending time with Mary’s taxes.
She finds them exciting and romantic.
After all, Mary’s got all those deductions and investments, while Sylvia’s on a simple fixed income.
“It’s complicated!” indeed!
After the fling with Mary’s taxes, Sylvia found a couple on Craigslist that were filing jointly, and they had a fivesome.
They had spreadsheets everywhere!
Sylvia went to night school, got a degree, and became a CPA.
She was doing everybody’s taxes! What a slut!
The fun didn’t last. She got sloppy, her clients were audited.
Now, everybody’s cybering safely with Turbotax.