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:

• Ginger
• Fauve
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Charlie
• Jon
• Serendipity
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Lizzie
• Planet Z

GINGER

Hospital

The psychiatric attending physician on rotation at hospital decided to take advantage of a blond admitting nurse early on in her career. His favorite tactic had been to ambiguously refer to an undefined “we” when explaining very particular directions for the handling of patients he wished to assess:

“Sit him in the furthest corner of the waiting room, do not speak with him until we tell you to,” etcetera, etcetera… “…because that is how we want it done.”

This worked very well in terms of gaining blind obedience from hospital staff.

No instruction required explanation because he was a doctor. Not just any doctor, a psychiatrist. And if an explanation was requested by someone serving admittance to emergency, one would simply be assured, “…because that is how we want it done.”

And the phrase alone would always ensure exacting compliance…to the letter. It also served to confuse patients who would be admitted promptly with a medical illness for voicing concerns.

One night, well into the wee hours of the morning, an assault victim arrived at admittance, having driven herself to the hospital with a slashed throat.

“Tell her to fuck off,” said the psychiatrist to the admitting nurse.

FAUVE

No one sane answers yes to the question Do you want to go to the Hospital…but neither does hardly anyone crazy either! So how do you know if you are sick or well if we are all a little crazy or just dying by the second as we live? You listen to your body. Listening to it produces weird dialogue…my right foot complains a bit, she is bigger than my left and feels somewhat put upon when forced into that half-size smaller shoe if I buy cheap ones that don’t come in size nine and a half…

RICHARD

#1 – Hospital

If you really want to make me miserable, put me in a hospital.

The sights, sounds and smells of the sick and injured makes for a distinctly depressing environment. The interminable waits, painful and intrusive procedures, and the sheer discomfort only adds to the unpleasantness; while visitors feel obliged to make inane conversation, but all the time wish they could be somewhere else.

What about the dreadful food and those depressing, bland pastel colours they insist on painting the walls?

It really does make you feel sick.

Every day, I find myself wishing I’d never chosen to become a doctor!

#2 – Cure-all

It’s a universal cure all… An all-natural remedy with no side effects and highly efficacious against a multitude of ailments.

Bad back, high blood pressure, bulimia, acid indigestion, brain tumour? All these, and more, can be treated simply and effectively; often only requiring a single course of this revolutionary new treatment.

Its therapeutic qualities aid recovery, assist the healing process and protects against infection and complications.

Take orally, or rub on the affected area as a lotion – then just wait for the results.

Yes folks, you’ll never look back after you’ve tried all new, scientifically proven…

Horse spittle!

TOM

Whistling Past the Graveyard

I don’t know what it is about hospitals that bring out the snarkyness in
people. They tend to hang the most pejorative of moniker on these
institutions. In our county Lakeside is referred to as Graveside and
Redbud is called Deadbud by the locals. Perhaps it is a throwback to the
days when it was unlikely you would survive your trip to the hospital. It
could be there are few place that one losses all dignity and control, so
we whistle pass the graveyard will any air of superiority. Of course if
you’re running a temp of 105, different story.

CHARLIE

As a floor nurse, I’ve dealt with the foul, fascinating landscapes, besmirched with armpits and fruity genitalia, belching gobs, and those impulsive blurting sphincters in whose hot updrafts that I might ascend and soar.

After my shift, I joined the clandestine cocktail therapy session in the break room. I took advantage of the head nurses drugged condition and shoved her face into the pasta puttanesca. Doctor Hummingshorts whispered in my ear, saying he thought my Jacuzzi was wet and warm.

It was time to leave when I found a pube in my gelato.

#2

Rash Barwash was the hospital administrator. He recently put out a memo to all docs and nurses that a rise in supply prices from vendors would necessitate rises in all consumables. Of course, the prices billed to insurance was already high. An example was the current charge of $308.00 for four boxes of sterile, gauze pads each containing twenty-four, 4 inch by 4 inch dressings. These could be bought over the counter at Walgreen’s for $3.99 a box.

Barwash left this plane, prematurely, along with six CEO’s of vendor companies. They were flying to a conference when a mishap occurred.

JEFFREY

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream
by Jeffrey Fischer

I lie in my hospital bed, just starting to drift off to sleep, when a nurse arrives. “Time to check your vital signs!” she says cheerily, sticking a thermometer in my mouth, wrapping a blood pressure cuff to my arm, and clamping a heart rate sensor to my finger. I’m fully awake now. The clock reads just after midnight. She leaves. I close my eyes again.

“Time for a blood sample!” another nurse calls out. Two-freaking a.m. By four it’s another round of vitals, followed by breakfast at six. “You look tired today,” a day nurse says. “No kidding,” I reply.

JON

It was built of brick and it had dignity. It was beautiful, with details that bridged the gap between a public establishment and the home one missed. Nice frames around the doors and windows. Rooms where those who were mobile could gather and talk, perhaps play cards or chess or checkers. There were sunny screened porches.

People had died there, many times, but many more had lived. The smiles of nurses lingered, sunlight rather than shadows.

The new place down the road was easier to clean, had many advanced facilities, and was probably better: but it had no stories yet.

SERENDIPITY

You lie there in your hospital bed: Every intrusive beep of the monitor, every ponderous drip of the saline, counting off the moments that remain.

Moments that are marked and defined by pain.

And here, in my hand lies the answer – a simple syringe, loaded with a soothing, pain relieving, peace inducing panacea… Morphine!

Just one shot can ease your discomfort, dull the pain and bring you relief. Or maybe, if it’s just too much to bear, the full load – bringing permanent release.

So… What shall it be?

Actually, it’s mine – you can suffer while I watch!

TURA

Hospital
———
It was the first time I accompanied the senior doctor on his hospital round.

“Generalised Semantic Disorder,” he said of the first patient. “He sounds like he’s asking to be discharged, but none of his words mean anything. Treatment: ignoral.”

We continued to the next room. “Persecution Disorder. Attacked in the street. Let’s hear your thoughts on treatment.”

Caught on the hop, I stammered some foolishness about finding his attacker.

He looked at me sharply. “Young man, talk like that could get you arrested as a patient. It wouldn’t be the first time some starry-eyed intern has contracted Conspiracy Disorder.”

NORVAL JOE

The security officer dragged Axel into and empty warehouse and threw him onto the floor. He pulled a prod from his utility belt and aimed it at Axel.
Several holes on the end closest to Axel told him the prod could project various charges. Most likely it was preset with stun bursts to incapacitate and immobilize a perpetrator. Though, other possibilities included O2 deficit, muscle spasm, and tissue dissolving charges.
If the officer fired the prod, Axel could end up incarcerated, in the morgue, or in the hospital.
“Now’s your chance to come clean,” the officer snarled. “Who’s your supplier?”

DUANE

Hospital

Arriving late to the maternity ward I was hurried into scrubs and watched from outside myself as the doctor darted away shouting “Let’s have a baby!” The nurse ushered me towards the delivery room and into a cacophony of action, light and sound. The doctor said “I need you to push” and all hell broke loose. What was a couple of nurses seemed to turn into a large choir chanting “push, push…” My wife had a look on her face I had never seen before. If a marching band had come through at that moment, I wouldn’t have even noticed.

LIZZIE

He pressed the button and a nurse appeared.
“Hungry.”
She turned around and walked away. He waited. Nothing.
He pressed the button again. Another nurse appeared.
“I’m hungry.”
She turned around and left.
For the third time, he pressed the button, and a third nurse appeared.
“I’m really hungry.”
She tilted her head.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
He frowned.
“The code.”
“What code?”
“The one they gave you with your patient card.”
He flipped the card back and forth. In small letters, the code.
“Please?”
And food was provided, abundantly.

PLANET Z

I used to play the game SimCity, where you put together a city’s infrastructure and zones, and the computer would fill up that city with people and homes and offices and other things.
Every now and then, a dense residential zone would turn into a hospital or church, which wouldn’t get you much resident density for that zone.
So, I’d bulldoze it and rezone it, and the residents would pour back in.
Until another church or hospital appeared.
After two hours of playing Whack-a-Mole with them, I gave up.
Completely. God crumpled the disk and threw it in the trash.

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:

• Ginger
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Jon
• Tom
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Duane
• Planet Z

GINGER

Mask

Belinda was a masked individual. Her face had been traumatically altered in an accident when she was young. Surgeons had attempted facial reconstruction at that time with little success. As an adult, Belinda held various back room jobs in stores as well as in restaurant kitchens. She could not work in view of the public for fear that the scars would scare patrons. She failed to inure advancement in office jobs because of an overriding fear on the part of her employers that the face of trauma might intimidate female co-workers. She maintained routine visits with a plastic surgeon. In time, the appearance of scarring no longer shocked the world. In time, she began to feel less guilt for being a monster.

JEFFREY

What The Eye Don’t See
by Jeffrey Fischer

You bought a mask, I put it on
You never thought to ask me
If I wear it when you’re gone

Get real
— Sisters of Mercy, “When You Don’t See Me”

My boss chewed me out because I was late. I tried to look contrite. He chewed me out again when he read my report – not up to standards, he said. I smiled wanly and said I would rewrite it; surely it would be better with his comments. At the staff meeting, the section chief commended the group for their efforts over the past year and those who made the company proud would be honored at this afternoon’s company-wide awards ceremony, though he noted that some weren’t pulling their weight. He stared at me while making that last point. I kept my mask on.

At lunch I went to the garage, found my car, popped the trunk, and took out the guns stored there. Screw the mask I had kept for many years. Today I had my own way of rewarding the company’s overachievers.

RICHARD

#1 – Fart at a funeral

It was one of those priceless moments.

A real trouser-tearer that practicality echoed throughout the chapel during the solemn silence. As for the culprit, we never found out.

The timing was perfect, the incongruity and inappropriateness, delicious… And my response, all too predictable.

I tried to mask it, but the badly disguised smirk on my face was obvious. As were the shoulders of the mourners in front of me, shaking with barely suppressed mirth.

With superhuman control, we somehow managed to regain our composure…

But it made for an unforgettable send off, for a somewhat less than memorable acquaintance!

#2 – The Mask

You see it everywhere – at every protest, every riot, every scene of political unrest.

The Guy Fawkes’ mask – now wholly appropriated as the best-dressed protester’s choice for anonymity. It’s replaced the balaclava with its overtly paramilitary overtones, whilst the old standby – a scarf covering the face – suggests a lack of preparation and any real dedication to the cause.

I can’t help wondering what old Guy Fawkes would have made of it. I can imagine him smiling at the thought. Although you’d never know it… On account of the Guy Fawkes mask that he always insisted on wearing!

CHARLIE

He started to wear mask the day he was convicted of pederasty in the small town where he lived. He further disguised himself by gaining a hundred pounds and changing his dress style. He disguised his voice by getting a private voice coach.

No one ever questioned his mask. He voluntarily revealed the disfigurement he suffered in Paris from an acid attack. He wore a scarf tight, to further disguise himself and to heighten the illusion.

Unknowingly, the mask was that of Oscar Fingal O’Flahertie Wills Wilde. Literati and hipsters put two and two together, so his secret was out.

#2

I couldn’t mask the smell by spraying lemon oil. The odor persisted. Someone had “upper decked” my commode during the party. It was the gardener – recently fired for his poor attitude and his outrageous rates. I invited him because he was a relative.

The prank blocked the outflow, and the subsequent eruption caused havoc and an odor that triggered most of the party-goers to leave, dry-heaving and retching as they went out the doors.

I was never able to prove whom the guilty party was, but from that day on, I made it my duty to “upper deck” everyone’s toilet.

SERENDIPITY

“Would you like something to mask the pain?” I asked, with genuine concern in my voice.

You nodded, through the agony, teeth gritted, eyes wide with pleading.

I wanted to be certain that I understood what you were telling me.

“Are you sure? “, I said.

“Yes!” You screamed, with all the strength you could muster.

Well, that was pretty clear, and to be honest, I was a little surprised. But, I wouldn’t argue, if that’s what you wanted.

So I hacked off your feet too.

“There you go. That should take your mind off what’s left of your hands!”

LIZZIE

Lean forward and read the words, she thought, one after the other, one after the other, paragraph following paragraph, obediently covering the pages of a blank book. For the others, the pages were blank, and had nothing written on them. Yet, she saw words, one after the other, strings of paragraphs covering the desert of whiteness. She forgot the ban. And the world became warm.
Lean back, she thought, place the mask back on. No one will see how you can travel away. The book went back on the shelf of empty books, and no one knew she could read.

JON

Before Me and Behind Me
By
Jon DeCles
We mask our feelings: we mask our fears, we mask our joys, showing nothing to those around us. Our masks are armor that protects us from the untoward unrealized threat.
But worse than the mask we wear to show to others how little power they have over us is the mask we wear that faces inward, the mask we show unto ourselves, pretending who we want to be and looking at that mask and believing we are that, and not the shadowy person who lives behind the public mask, the inner mask, the person whose raw nature we fear most.

My Salad Days, When I Was Green in Judgement, Cold in Blood
By
Jon DeCles

A salad is usually made by the chef, but only on rare occasions does the chef actually cook a salad, so on those occasions is he cooking or not? We could call him a cook, but suppose the cook works in a salad bar? Or how about those occasions when desert is assembled out of freshly chilled raw comestibles, like fruit or ice? There is a delightful Philippine desert made of what I think to be slightly fermented fruits mixed with small chunks of ice: that’s not cooking, is it? But we do have it prepared by the cook, no?.

TOM

Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear

It was 1957 and every kid who could talk their parents into springing the coin wanted to be the Lone Ranger for Halloween. Rudy had not only got the cool black mask, six shooter, and silver bullets. He had also convinced his less than enthusiastic little brother Lenny to accompany him as Tonto. For the greater part of the night they were racking in serious sugar cash, but then a pack of kids dressed at the Butch Cavendish’s gang fell on them. “We’ve been in worst straights, Tonto.” “What do you mean ‘We’ Whiteman?” said Lenny exiting stage right.

TURA

Mask
———
The Red Flash and the accountant faced each other.

The accountant whipped off his mask, “No mere accountant I,” he said. “Behold Magnetron!”

“Not so fast, Magnetron,” said The Red Flash, “for I am–” he whipped off his mask, “–Xray! I see beneath that mask–”

“Curses! But your X-rays are powerless against–” Magnetron whipped off his mask, “Galaxian!”

“But I am really–” said Xray, whipping off his mask. “–Mr Neutrino! Nothing deflects me!”

“But I am–” said Galaxian, whipping off his mask, “Nigel Weems, Accountant! Your neutrinos are a mere accounting error!”

Nigel awoke, sighed and returned to his desk.

NORVAL JOE

The security guard strode down the passage.
Axel looked anywhere beside the advancing officer, hoping to mask his overwhelming anxiety.
His worst fears were realized when the man stopped in front of him.
“You’re in a controlled sector. Why are you here?” the guard asked.
“I’m waiting for someone. And this isn’t a controlled sector, or I couldn’t have walked into this passage,” Axel countered feigning bravado.
His act didn’t work. The guard suddenly had him in a choke hold, dragging him toward the link.
“You’re here to make a drug deal and I’m going to find out for whom.”

LAIEANNA

“What do you think, Jack?” she asked, flaunting her new look.

The mask advertised a fresh new face in just twenty-four hours and
Sara couldn’t wait for Jack to see what she did for him, always for
him. They hadn’t spoken in weeks, but she kept tabs on where and what
he did. When the mutual friend’s party came up, Sara arrived smiling
with bright whites, tossing her blowout, and batting the eyelashes of
her new face.

Jack looked with his usual disdain and shook his head. “Sara,
nothing’s changed. Your insides are still showing. Go away, you
psycho bitch.”

DUANE

Mask

The Devil was looking over my shoulder. Had been for ten minutes. Maybe an hour, I was pretty stoned. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone. They would just say, “you are so high!” So I sat there, hair on end. I decided one more look then I’d tell someone. I glanced around and his face shot toward me. I was up, across the room with the lights on in one move.

My “friend” stood in the corner with a Devil mask, laughing hysterically. I punched him in the chest as hard as I could, then we were cool.

PLANET Z

Halloween was right around the corner.
Every year, Freddy trick-or-treated as a ghost, and his mother would take away his candy because he’d ruined a sheet.
Once again, he’d waited too long. The stores were out of costumes.
Even those crappy plastic smocks with the lame cardboard masks with elastic bands.
Freddy sighed, grabbed a sheet from the linen closet, and cut out two holes.
But this time, he’d take two candy bags.
One to stash the good stuff in a tree, and one to hand over when he got home.
Sadly, Freddy stashed the wrong bag in the tree.