Some people get starstruck when they see a celebrity.
But do people get gueststarstruck? Or specialgueststarstruck?
What’s that like?
I can’t imagine someone getting alsostarringstruck.
Or, I suppose, featuringstruck, secondunitditectorstruck, associateproducerstruck, or keygripstruck.
That stuff might fascinate someone or lead to an interesting conversation, but it doesn’t match up with being starstruck.
Not in the least.
Once, I was stuntcoordinatorstruck. Literally. A stunt coordinator struck me.
I suppose I should have ducked sooner.
But I wasn’t paying attention, and pow!
Now that I think of it, he should have pulled his punch.
He wasn’t much of a stunt coordinator, really.
Author: R.
Vote Against
This upcoming election doesn’t really give many choices.
I don’t feel like voting for either candidate.
Voting for one ends is really just a vote against the other.
I feel like staying home, but each candidate’s supporters say that it’s a vote for the other candidate.
The truth is, staying home is a vote for my cat, who likes it when I stay home and lay on the couch so she can snuggle up against me.
And if I don’t use time off or sick time, or pretend to do some work from home, it’s a vote for unemployment, too.
Delayed
Give a kid a marshmallow, and then tell them that if they don’t eat it while you’re out of the room, you’ll give them two marshmallows.
This is a famous test of delayed gratification.
I remember the studies. I remember the psychologist standing over me, holding out the marshmallow.
“I don’t like marshmallows,” I told him.
“Well, what do you like?” he asked me.
It took three orderlies to pry my hands from his throat.
Oh, how I love to strangle scientists.
I guess I didn’t want to wait for him to bring a second psychologist for me to strangle.
Weekly Challenge #549 – Halloween Special
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:
MUNSI
The Reason for the Season
By Christopher Munroe
It’s not about candy.
I’m a grown-assed man, if I want candy I’ll have candy. I have money.
Similarly, it’s not the costumes.
I mean, a little, but not really. I already wear what I like, and I’m unselfconscious enough that what I like gets weird if I want it to.
It’s the sense of community. The fact that, once a year, my local goth bar’s going to be packed. It’s sharing a moment, however briefly, with the world, knowing that today everyone’s on the same page as me.
It’s about other people listening to Oingo Boingo too.
Happy Halloween!
JEFFREY
Lights Out
by Jeffrey Fischer
As soon as the sun falls below the horizon, the ghouls sprout on the sidewalks. At first they come one at a time, wee things in sheets or tiaras and glitter, bags of candy thrust shyly toward the door. Parents offer encouragement from a few feet away. The next wave comprises packs of giggling tweens, more assertive than their younger counterparts but still respectful of the process. The occasional parent loiters in the street, keeping a watchful eye on things.
I try to give the little kids a small scare – creepy music, skeletal hands that give out candy – but when the packs of marauding teenagers arrive, it’s my turn to be scared. I shut off the lights and hide until they’ve all gone home.
RICHARD
Halloween… again
I hate Halloween: All those bratty kids demanding treats, and equally annoying parents encouraging the ungrateful monsters!
Every year it’s the same – I draw the curtains, lock the doors, switch off the lights, and open the whisky.
A prisoner in my own home.
Thank goodness it’s only one night a year – I couldn’t stand any more than that.
At least, when I wake in the morning with a crippling hangover, I can reflect on that.
And then, it’s down to the off-licence for more whisky…
Well, I’ve got to be ready for Christmas, and those damned carol singers!
LISA
Pumpkin
We didn’t have Halloween here when I was young. But now my son wants the house decorating, which I’m fine with, there’s certainly no shortage of cobwebs.
It’s the Pumpkin that stumps me. We look online for tips. He sees the design he likes and I weep inside at the intricate detailing on the devil’s furrowed brow.
So, I start while he’s at school.
And later as he and a pal test the treats they’re impressed with my handiwork. They can’t believe how realistic the blood staining the pumpkin flesh looks whilst both fail to notice my hastily bandaged hand.
TOM
I Want To Be a Hobo This Year.
When your little Halloween participation seems like an infinite given. A life time of going door to door to get free CANDY. How great is America. But in reality you got 7 years tops to cash in. When you reach that threshold you shift into the role of kid sister wrangler. But all that is good for is another four year. Sure handing out candy as an adult derives a curtain adult satisfaction. But does it really fulfil that empty Halloween longing. Sigh. Think I’ll just put a pillowcase over my head and drain this bag of mini three musketeers
JON
The Circus Turns
By Jon DeCles
Halloween. Los Angeles. Skid Row. Look it up, it’s a ‘hood, on the map. The Year of the Creepy Clowns, providing every would-be serial killer a chance to play in disguise. Staggering stoned down the old railroad tracks, a lone goth girl, maybe fourteen, black hair, black lipstick, black lace and leather. Black eye makeup. The clowns close in, a mutiny of them, all kinds of knives at the ready, each wanting to be first. She sees them circling. She pulls out a can opener, sharpened, flips open her straight razor.
“Do I get to cut someone now?” she asks
SERENDIPITY
Wake up, Lucy; wake up, Timmy – it’s time for your special annual outing!
You’ve been such good children this year that you can have all the candy you can collect – just as long as you’re polite and you don’t frighten the neighbours quite as much as last year!
Now, hurry along and get ready, and then as soon as it gets dark you can go outside.
Just remember the Golden Rule…
You must be back by ten o’clock, so I can get you both back down to the cellar before bedtime.
And there you’ll stay until next year!
LIZZIE
“There’s a creepy clown behind you. No one will survive. The clown is lifting his arm. Food, food. He’s hungry for you. Forget the time. The time. The time. Time…”
They looked over their shoulders and couldn’t see any clown but this was to be a “horrifying experience” said the brochure, so they thought it was all part of the show.
Suddenly, the room went dark. A dreadful slashing sound… Peter laughed nervously.
When the lights were back on, he was the only one alive.
The Ouija board slowly wrote “Congratulations. Your ticket had a special prize. Come back soon!”
TURA
Halloween
———
“What’s the scariest thing you can think of?” I said slyly.
“Monsters!” they replied. “Zombies!” “Vampires!”
“Use your imaginations!” I said. “How about poisonous mushrooms, that dissolve your body from within, and you turn into a puddle of green slime! Can you imagine something worse?”
“Caterpillars that burrow into your ears and eat your brains!”
“Giant wasps, like those icknew-whatsits in biology class. They lay their eggs in you and you’re eaten by the wasp maggots and you’re awake the whole time and you can’t move–”
The class had just about frightened themselves to tears. Time to release the tarantulas!
———
PLANET Z
I bought a pumpkin for Halloween, but I never got around to carving it.
So, I pulled out a marker and drew a scary face on the pumpkin.
I admit, that’s lame, but it actually looked kinda cool, even though it didn’t light up or anything.
It wasn’t messy at all, and it kept its shape through October nicely.
After Halloween, I opened up the pumpkin and harvested the pulp to make fresh pumpkin pie.
The seeds, I roasted and salted.
Maybe instead of carving a turkey for Thanksgiving and making a mess, I’ll just draw one on the pan.
The Ugly Stick
When Grampa sees an ugly girl, he says “She must have been beaten with The Ugly Stick.”
Which, back in his day, was a real stick.
The City Uglifier would go from door to door, beating girls with The Ugly Stick until they were ugly.
These days, there is no more City Uglifier. The position was eliminated due to budget cuts.
The Ugly Stick is on display at City Hall, in a locked glass cabinet.
However, it’s not a very secure lock, because occasionally, you’ll see an ugly girl.
Grampa puts a finger to his lips, says SSSSSSSSSH!, and winks.
There’s only so much
There’s only so much blood a vampire can drink.
There’s only so much darkness a vampire can see.
There’s only so much forever a vampire can take.
They walk out to the beach, strip off their clothes, and lie down to wait for the sun.
Others hammer stakes into their own hearts. Or they ask their servants to do it for them.
“Make me immortal,” some will ask.
But the vampire knows better. The vampire knows that it’s not a gift, but an endless horror.
So, they kill their servants, walk to the beach, strip off their clothes, and wait.
Sleep is overrated
When people say sleep is overrated, who’s doing the rating?
Exactly what rating did sleep get?
And what rating should it get?
Are they saying that all sleep should be rated X?
Or NC-17, which is what X is now?
You can give a film X for sex, or for violence.
I hope they’re talking about sex, because nobody wants violence in the bed.
Because it’s a lot easier to wash sex stains out of the sheets than bloodstains.
Assuming that you survive the violence, of course.
Or you’ll end up wrapped in the sheets and buried in the woods.
Ali
Muhammad Ali said that he could float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.
Doctor Odd found this interesting, and went down to his lab to research the concept more.
Two days later, a horde of flying jellyfish swarmed across the countryside, stinging and paralyzing everything in its path.
People fled in terror.
On the other hand, the flying jellyfish were excellent pollinators, and there were record yields of crops that fall.
Agricultural conglomerates offered him a fortune for the licensing rights.
And he took it. Just like Ali took the white boxing promoters’ money to keep punching people.
Tie a yellow ribbon
Before you tie the yellow ribbon around the old oak tree, remember to soak it in the potion that the Enchantress made for the summoning ceremony.
We don’t want the spirits of our missing soldiers to come home with any demonic baggage this time.
Remember ten years ago, when we forgot to imbue the yellow ribbon with the protection and binding agent?
Of course you don’t. We had the Enchantress work up a forgetting spell for the children after we drove back the demon horde.
Sadly, it only works on children. We elders have to live with the horrible memory.
Your heart still beats
By the time we tie your hands behind your back and pull the black bag over your head, you’re already dead.
Oh, you’re still breathing. Your heart still beats.
But it doesn’t matter. We’ve scanned your ID chip, and your records are already canceled.
We already have your blood type, DNA, and tissue profiles.
Every organ in your body is up for auction. To pay for your crimes.
You feel the needle in the back of your neck.
Lie still. Don’t move.
Don’t damage state property.
We can make it worse. Much worse.
Do you want to feel the knives?