They say that Crazy Andy doesn’t play with a full deck, but I’ve counted his cards, and sure enough, there are fifty-two cards in his deck.
Lots of people have counted them.
He’ll hand you his greasy, torn and tattered deck of cards, and he’ll demand that you count them.
When you get to fifty-two, he’ll say that you must have miscounted, and demand that you count them again.
You can lay them out on the table in rows, or you can order the cards to show none are missing, but he’ll never believe you.
He cries.
He screams.
Pathetic.
Author: R.
Hot Dog Sandwich
At the debate, the moderator asked the candidates:
“Is a hot dog a sandwich?”
Well, what is a sandwich?
A hamburger is a sandwich.
And open-faced sandwiches are sandwiches.
Are calzones sandwiches? Or rolls?
A po boy is a roll with meat in it, and if you could call that a sandwich, then a hot dog in a bun is a sandwich.
Social media erupted with all kinds of rants and charts and Photoshops of sandwiches in the candidates’ hands.
As the pointless debate continued, the world kept turning, problems went unsolved, opportunities were missed, and nobody was the wiser.
Mistaken Identity
The truth is, God told Abraham to kill a baby goat, not his kid.
But Abraham, being almost a hundred, didn’t hear God too well, so he headed up the mountain for the sacrifice.
God left a few signs along the path that said I SAID KILL A BABY GOAT, NOT YOUR KID, but Abraham was illiterate.
God tried a few signs with simple pictograms, but Abraham’s eyesight wasn’t too good, either.
Which is a good thing, because he mistook a small goat for his son.
“That’ll do,” said God.
No wonder why Moroni gave magic spectacles to John Smith.
I Voted
On Election Day, they hand out “I VOTED!” stickers for people to wear after they voted.
I guess it’s our way of doing the whole “purple finger” thing that other countries do, but a lot more civilized.
Me, I want to wear a sticker that says “I Couldn’t Vote Because I’m A Convicted Felon.”
It would sure be a conversation starter at parties.
Or in prisons.
Do they have parties in prisons?
I don’t know. I never get invited to any.
Maybe the invitations get lost in the mail?
I sit by my mailbox and wait… and wait… and wait…
Releases
When new video games are released, all of the geeks take the day off and play it over and over, going for every level and achievement. The next day, they come in tired and worn out and brain fried.
I’m the same way, but not with video games.
I’m that way with new toasters.
I buy a dozen loaves of bread and bags of bagels, and I toast them all day, spreading jam, butter, and cream cheese and eating it all.
Light? Dark? Bagel settings?
I do it all.
The next day, I’m fine.
Because I throw it all up.
SNL
When I was young, I watched Saturday Night Live on Saturday night, live when it aired.
There wasn’t any videotape or syndication, let alone an Internet with on-demand video, so you watched it live or not at all.
Syndication deals aired reruns now and then. And a cable channel or two picked up episodes. You could watch on those nights when it aired.
Video stores began to rent and sell tapes of the series. Unless you figured out how to program your VCR yourself.
You could watch it anytime.
I guess that’s why nobody knows what SNL stands for now.
Weekly Challenge #621 – Water
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:
CHARLIE
W. C. Fields, a notorious enthusiast of alcohol, said he didn’t drink water because “Fish f*** in it.” True, but the rest of us don’t mind drinking it if it doesn’t have any additives…like too much chlorine, or fluorides.
I filter all my drinking water for the dogs and myself by using canisters of finely granulated, activated charcoal. Activated charcoal is charcoal that has been heated or otherwise treated to increase its adsorptive power.
I keep pitchers of filtered water on the counter for tea and soup, and a big one in the fridge for cold drinks.
Filter your water.
#2
As a youngster, I used to swim a lot. I swam in public pools, home pools, canals, rivers, creeks, lakes, oceans, and the bathtub. I spent more time under the water than on the surface.
When my cousins came over to swim in our pool when I was in grammar school, I spent the majority of the time under the water admiring the coordinated arms and legs of the girls swimming above.
I confess, I did a lot of watching, and the only touching I did was to myself after they left for the day.
At 88, I still swim.
#3
Water has always been something I have been captivated and enamored with. When a person in a film pours a tall glass of water, drinking it with detachment and showing pleasure, I am very attentive and compelled to do the same at my first opportunity.
Pouring a glass of clear, cool water from a large glass pitcher or a heavy, ceramic container after I’ve gone to the kitchen after a few hours in the summer sun in the garden, is a pleasure without measure.
We take clean drinking water for granted. One in six people do not have this luxury.
RICHARD
H2 No!
Dihydrogen Monoxide… Awful stuff.
So corrosive, it can eat through solid steel and carve its way through rock.
Just a teaspoonful inhaled can kill; you can’t breathe it; and long term exposure causes muscle cramps, exhaustion, delirium and ultimately, death!
It destroys property and wrecks the environment… And that’s just the liquid form. As a solid, it’s treacherous; and in gaseous form it causes pain, blistering and burns.
More addictive than crack cocaine, one hundred percent of people can’t live without it, letting it into their homes without a second thought.
This vile substance must be banned, with immediate effect!
PLANET Z
She put the baby’s corpse in the pillowcase, duct-taped it shut, and then tied the end to a cinderblock.
The fishing boat could get out to where the water was deep enough.
“It’s a science project,” she said. “Currents and stuff.”
“Whatever,” said the boat’s owner. “Seventy bucks cash.”
Two miles out, the boat had engine trouble.
“We’ve got to head back,” said the captain.
“I guess this will do,” she said, pushing the pillowcase over the side, and she was an only child again.
All she had to do was think up a good story.
She’d Google for one.
JEFFREY
Water, Water
by Jeffrey Fischer
People always complain about water. Too little and it’s a drought. Farmers moan about lost crops, homeowners complain about brown lawns and use restrictions. Too much and farmers complain about lost crops, homeowners complain about mildew in basements and flooded roads. We worry that foreign water will cause diarrhea. We complain about taste, color, minerals. That’s the nature of life, I guess.
I thought about those petty whines after my ill-fated skid off the road, as the last few feet of the passenger cabin of my car filled with lake water. Gross, tastes brackish.
SERENDIPITY
Water… It’s wonderful stuff. Readily available, cheap and plentiful, safe to use, but tremendously effective. It’s so much better than many, more obvious, methods.
Take waterboarding, for instance – such a simple technique, but incredibly effective. Quick, easy, and straightforward.
Or if you’re in no hurry and want to enjoy the process, why not go for the good, old fashioned, Chinese water torture? Who would have thought that the simple, steady, drip, drip, drip – inescapable and unforgiving – could break even the strongest will?
And the best thing of all?
Torture can be thirsty work… But not any more!
TOM
Best Laid Plans
The water was still, not a rip lapped the bank. The silver dollar moon mirrored the surface caught the monster’s eye. With an effortless flick of a gnarled claw a small form shattered the moons continence and dropped below the approaching waves. It smiled a smile less triumphant, primal, rimming the edge of some deep millennial evil. Heavy legs moved off towards the village. Innocence in slumber would wake to the corruptible agent of their departure from this world. It licked the nail of a claw with perverse joy. It was only then it saw the flaming sword of justice.
DUANE
Water
—————————————-
I’ve heard it said that in the desert you can’t remember your name. That seemed silly, but after a couple of weeks of wandering I had found it to be true. Your thoughts are filled with sun and sand. Your mind stops noticing the heat and pain at some point and you just keep moving.
I thought I’d started hallucinating, but as I got close there was a man crawling across the sand. He reached out a bony hand to me.
“Walter, Walter. Please Walter.”
How the hell did this guy know my name? I turned around and started running.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert explained Roderick’s prank to the coach.
In an unprecedented break from character, Coach Slaughterball wrote a note and said, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Boys your age can be cruel. Take this excuse to the attendance office so you don’t get in trouble for being late.”
Billbert stood, took the note, and stepped around a puddle of water on the floor.
“What would be more embarrassing than slipping in water while wearing a plastic grocery bag?” He thought.
He found out when the PE class ran through the locker room on their way to the outdoor basketball courts.
Suggested prompt….Intimate
Politicize
To ask a politician not to politicize a tragedy is madness.
That’s what politicians do. They politicize. It’s the name of their job.
It’s like telling a butcher to respect the sacrifice made by an animal and not to butcher it.
It’s what they do.
Of course, this is what you would expect of an honorable profession, one who actually contributes worth.
A builder who builds.
A teacher that teaches.
A healer who heals.
Which a politician, who feeds on fear and hate, doesn’t.
A whore that whores.
A rapist that rapes.
A killer who kills.
Smile for the camera.
Hope for breakfast
Francis Bacon said that hope is a good breakfast, but it is a bad supper.
When asked how good hope was as a lunch, he said he preferred the soup and salad.
“Ever tried hope at the brunch buffet?” I asked.
“I prefer the fresh melon slices and the maple oatmeal,” he responded.
Which is a lie. I see him loading up on biscuits and gravy, sausage, and stuffing cereal boxes into his coat pockets.
Oh, and those minosa drinks. The ones with orange juice and champagne?
He downs a pitcher of that stuff, and gets drunk off his ass.
Rolled-up Newspaper
I used to smack stupid people with a rolled-up newspaper.
But newspapers are smaller and lighter these days.
The Sunday edition is full of coupons and features sections.
Not that there’s many people to smack around on Sunday.
I watch football on Sunday. Why smack my own television set?
Monday morning rolls around, and my Sunday paper is already in the recycling bin.
What will I smack them with?
I load up the local paper on my tablet and…
I don’t want to break my tablet.
So, I print out all of the articles, roll them up, and…
Why bother?