Weekly Challenge #548 – Express

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

JEFFREY

Week 548 – Express

The passengers boarded the 3:50 headed west and waited for the train to pull out of the station. Then, as always, the train stopped about five miles down the line to allow the 4:00 express train to pass. Couldn’t the railroad just switch the two trains? Everyone who wanted to be home earlier could catch the speedy 3:50, and the cheaper folks could follow behind at 4.

Gutierrez laughed. What was the point of getting home earlier? The guys never showed up at the local until around six, so he made the most of his extra time by studying the ankles of the well-dressed lady one row in front of him.

ROSS

Express Yourself
By Ross Hastings

“Express yourself” quoth Madonna, famously.

Acknowledging the fact that her early material rarely brims with subtext or irony, it seems fair to assume the sincerity of her most earnest encouragement.

The problem is, asking most people to express what they’re really thinking is like like encouraging an alcoholic to drink, or a Japanese businessman to sing “I would walk 500 Miles” by the Proclaimers, or, asking a toddler to shit himself. Their responses, rarely hesitant, will be aggressively enthusiastic, your approval of the results assumed up-front, and your inevitable suffering when they shit themselves socially, publicly and literally, won’t be Madonna’s fault. It will be yours.

MUNSI

Expression
By Christopher Munroe

Don’t go for second best, baby, put your love to the test.

You know you got to make him express how he feels, and baby then you’ll know your love is real.

Express yourself.

Freedom of expression is, after all, constitutionally protected, as noted legal scholar Madonna pointed out.

But, perhaps more importantly, self-expression is a responsibility. As citizens of a free society we’ve a duty to make our voices heard.

I’m expressing myself right now, in fact.

What I’m saying is basicaly nonsense, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I have the right to say it…

LISA

The end of the world

The white plumed sigh from Platform 3 was almost louder than the announcement.

Cancelled!
A replacement bus service leaving shortly.

But the parents of the girl shivering by the leaf strewn track behind the Industrial estate (just after the turn) got to outlive their daughter. Her life now was hard. But it got much better.

On the bus a couple met for the first time although they lived only streets apart. Shared first this journey then a life full of happiness.

Some did miss the gold of the leaves.
The smell of the coffee.
And were just late for work.

RICHARD

#1 – Agatha

Grandfather was a huge fan of Agatha Christie. He had all of her works, even a couple of first editions. So, when it came to his eightieth birthday, we clubbed together to buy him and grandma a trip on the Orient Express.

It had always been his favourite story, but we had no idea just how he’d taken it to heart.

The first we knew that something was wrong was when he was escorted from the train at the end of the journey by a policeman… Without grandma!

They said she was murdered, but the culprit? That remains a mystery!

#2 – Retirement

My grandfather was a funny chap, when he retired he found it hard to adopt a life of leisure.

He refused to take things easy and whenever something interesting was happening, you’d be sure to find him there, keeping notes, taking photographs and generally being a nosey old bugger!

After he died, we cleared out his house – there were boxes crammed full of the fruits of his labours: Accounts of every noteworthy event in town, births, marriages, deaths and disasters – all meticulously recorded.

We found his business cards – Arthur Sponge – reporter (retired) – ex-press.

#3 – Grandfather

It was my grandfather’s express wish that his ashes be scattered at the peak of Kilimanjaro, upon the last snows of spring, under a full moon.

Needless to say, we had no intention of seeing his wishes fulfilled, until his solicitor advised we wouldn’t see a penny of his fortune unless we complied.

It took months of organising, but finally it happened – exactly as he’d wanted.

The thing is, grandfather was no fan of mountaineering, had no interest in Africa and hated snow… But he loved a practical joke, and I guess he’s laughing fit to burst right now!

TOM

One Glorious Shinning Moment
Jessy and Jacob flew for the Great Eastern Express Corp. The Batloft Express ran relay flyers from Denman on the plains to Cordovetus on the coast. Tandem flying down the central circuit insured that mail would reach its appointed destination. Jessy, the bolder of the team, tended to keep his Batloft closer to the ground for speed advantage. Jacob flew a bit higher which gave him a strategic advance. They averaged 20,000 clicks a trans-cycle, the best frackn relayers on the transvelt. With the completion of the Great Western Clack Corp’s Heliograph Net the Batloft Express faded into history.

SERENDIPITY

I wish you people would get it right, it’s the one thing guaranteed to raise my blood pressure.

The word is ‘espresso’ – got it?

Never ‘expresso’! There’s no such thing… It means nothing and shows you up as an ignorant fool, without whom society would be better off.

In fact, maybe I should do something about that?

Go ahead, order an ‘expresso’, and let’s see what you get… Maybe I’ll lace it with cleaning fluid, add a shot of bleach and a sprinkling of glass splinters.

You won’t notice – you wouldn’t know coffee if you drowned in it!

JON

Closure

By Jon DeCles

What really bothered the genii should not have bothered him. All djinn had been trapped by King Solomon, so his imprisonment was a given. It was the unique nature of the prison that was the problem. Solomon’s most famous geometry was his seal, but he had been imaginative, and long before that latter day saint of topography had given his name to it, Solomon had devised a Klein bottle: in which he had put the genii. As it was inside itself, there could never be a way out. But Solomon had also pioneered building ships in bottles: thus eternal seasickness.

The Fastest Tap in the West

By Jon DeCles

When you dance dressed as a female they call you a pony. Fred learned that watching “A Chorus Line,” and went out and got himself a job. Most of the guys wanted to be Ginger Rogers, so everybody could dance; but Fred wanted to be Ann Miller, who had the fastest foot in Hollywood. He heard that she could unhinge her hip, but without that he still got the 500 taps per minute and that made him a star, even if in a limited niche of theater. He was fondly remembered at his death, aged 90, as ‘The Pony Express.’

TURA

Express
———
Pa didn’t like trains. “Horse and buggy’s all you’ll ever need,” he’d say.

One day, the express train stopped. Even the stopping train didn’t stop there, ‘less you telegraphed a request. It had broken down, and was waiting for another engine to come. So I hitched.

The big city, it’s like, even seeing it, I couldn’t imagine it.

So, I’m just a boy, and I got nothing. I gotta live, so… anyway, weren’t no worse than home.

Eventually I take another train, bigger places. And now here I am, starship captain, boldly going. There’s always a bigger place to go.

LIZZIE

Would you like to offer a special someone a trip to an unknown destiny? We have what you’re looking for. Rates for all budgets. We have a promo with our Express Rate. The ride might not be first class, the company somewhat off but… it’s all part of the adventure, right? We’ll take your special someone to vaguely puzzling yet strangely calming accommodations where he’ll be able to enjoy the serene tranquility of our lodgings, alongside a large crowd of other peaceful campers. Oh, and we’ll even provide a sturdy shovel for the… gardening hours, a highlight of our program.

NORVAL JOE

After warming himself in the blanket, eating the ramin, and drinking the water, Mickey came to his senses. He didn’t know where he was. To find his way home, his best chances lay at the hideout he had just fled.
Finding his way back through the darkness he crouched in the brush, watching people mill about the shack. He couldn’t express his disappointment to find among the criminals both Ferrit and Cherry Cola.
He wanted to run out and confront these girls who he’d thought were his friends.
All he could say was, “Ooooo, oooo.”
He was still a monkey.

PLANET Z

Years ago, the Round Rock Express were founded by Nolan Ryan and his son Reid Ryan.
They were the minor league team of the Houston Astros.
But then Nolan Ryan joined the front office of the Texas Rangers.
The Round Rock Express became the minor league affiliate of the Rangers.
Then, the Astros hired Nolan and Reid Ryan for their front office.
The Express will return to the Astros in two years.
All this time, the Corpus Christi Hooks have been owned by the Ryans, and it’s been an Astros minor league team.
But nobody gives a crap about Double-A.

One Frankenstein

It’s not correct to call the creature Frankenstein.
Nor is it correct to call the creature Frankenstein’s Monster.
The truth is, the creature measured exactly one on The Frankenstein Scale.
Dr. Frankenstein created a unit of measurement.
With zero representing something completely harmless and one representing something that was as scary and dangerous as that creature.
Now, if you had two identical creatures, they would not necessarily measure two on The Frankenstein Scale.
There may be some inefficiencies and overlap, resulting in a score less than two.
Or, they may cleverly work together, resulting in a score greater than two.

Haunted Housemanship

Jeff and his friends built a haunted house every Halloween.
They challenged themselves to make it creepier and scarier every year.
One year, an evangelical Christian group built a “Christian” haunted house.
Instead of ghosts and goblins, they showed the evils of abortion, divorce, drug use, and gay marriage.
So, Jeff and his friends built a new haunted house that showed the evils of Christianity: child molestation, fringe cults, denial of women’s access to health care, and protesting the funerals of solders.
Across the street, Abdul Mohammed laughed and PayPalled another hundred bucks to his friends in ISIS and Hamas.

The boy who cried AESOP!

You know the tale of the boy who cried “Wolf!”
It was written by Aesop after he was found with the mutilated corpse of a shepherd boy.
“He was torn apart by wolves,” he told the police. “He’d jokingly cried wolf once too many times, nobody believed him, and so nobody came to his aid when he was beset by wolves for real.”
The police wrote this down, and sent Aesop on his way.
Aesop walked down the road, stomach full of the boy’s blood.
His story had worked.
And it would work again the next time he grew hungry.

The Midas Touch

Want to be famous for a little while?
I’m a casting agent.
No, I don’t work for the studios.
I work for Dr. Midas Goldman.
He’s a magician with dead celebrities, making up their ravaged corpses for their last performance.
But sometimes, they’re too far gone, even for him.
That’s where I come in.
I bring in body doubles, he dresses them up.
You get the spotlight and a thousand bucks.
We need to knock you out, though, but we’ll bring you back.
Haven’t lost one yet.
Just don’t put it on your resume.
Or we bury you for real.

Full Moon

The next full moon is on February 14th.
Valentine’s Day.
John’s got a choice to make.
Tell his girlfriend that he’s a werewolf, or miss the most important night of the year.
Well, that and Christmas.
Oh, and her birthday.
He’s been a werewolf for years, and he’s never come up with a solution for this.
“I gotta work late.” doesn’t quite cut it on the weekend.
So, he picks the lonely ones. The ones without family.
The ones who won’t be missed when they vanish.
He buys the flowers, the card.
And knocks on her door.
“Hello there!”

The Robot Brother

My brothers made the best Halloween props.
They started with amazing costumes and haunted houses.
But one year, they built a little brother in a wheelchair.
It was so lifelike. But they made it developmentally challenged, like Timmy on that South Park show.
Big head, crippled spastic body. Only barking out a few words.
They took it Trick or Treating in a Batman mask.
“BA-MA!” the thing slurred.
Parents humored it, said how cute how special. Gave it candy.
It was humiliating!
This year, they’re re-engineering me into an animatronic Wolfman.
When they’re done, I’ll tear their throats out.

Bottle by Jeffrey

A Cup of Pretension
by Jeffrey Fischer

I’ve liked coffee ever since that fateful morning in graduate school when, bleary-eyed and heading for class, I poured a cup of Maxwell House from the department’s automatic drip machine. I’ve upgraded my taste in beans a little – Dunkin’ Donuts, regular and decaf mixed 50-50, is the Fischer house specialty – and bought a nicer drip maker, but it’s essentially the same stuff.

Out in the broader world, though, people have gone nuts. First there was Starbucks and its “baristas,” which allowed them to charge three bucks for over-roasted beans. Now there are ultra-pretentious places, such as Blue Bottle, that make a fetish out of pouring a simple cup of joe – and charge north of six bucks for the privilege.

As for me: I have a machine in my office.

Anger Management
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ten-year-old Timmy was told not to bottle up his emotions. “What does that mean?” he asked. “Well, if you feel angry or sad or happy, don’t keep it inside you; let other people know how you feel.” The next day, Timmy felt happy, so he smiled at everyone. His teachers thought he was creepy. The following day, Timmy felt sad, so he cried all day. His friends shunned him. That made Timmy angry, so the third day he took a glass Pepsi bottle and smashed it over Dave’s head. That made Timmy happy again, and he smiled his creepy smile even as the teachers pulled him away.

Weekly Challenge #547 – Bottle

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:

Baby Panther

MUNSI

Coping Mechanism
By Christopher Munroe

I’ve been bottling up my emotions, for later sale.

Because, at the end of the day, nobody’s buying actual products anymore. We buy emotional connections, experiences and nostalgia for the emotional connections and experiences of our past.

I’m simply more honest about it than most, selling my own emotions directly to the consumer, no product involved, just raw, unprocessed feeling to enjoy at your leisure.

Which emotions in particular? Depression, mostly, from a lifetime of issues I never managed to resolve.

Which should come as no surprise.

After all, I’ve already admitted that I tend to bottle up my emotions…

LISA

Delivering so much more:

He found her although he lives the other side of town, only comes every other day now. Not many people use him, preferring to pick it up when they shop.

The familiar sounds of his approach. A chink of glass bottles followed a hum of the float. A wet cough from decades of Capstans. He noticed what we didn’t. Monday’s milk still there on her well swept step.

Just doing his job he told us later at her hospital bed.

Hadn’t hesitated.

Elbow shoved the door to find her fallen, bruised and dehydrated still holding the note ‘No milk today.’

RICHARD

Secret of my Success

People used to tell me that if I could bottle the secret of my success, I could make a fortune from selling it.

That was before I made my fortune – oddly enough though, they weren’t far off the mark. It just goes to show that from humble beginnings, with hard work and dedication, and a keen sense of business acumen, anyone can be successful.

Who would ever have thought that Grannie Heinz’s tomato sauce would ever have been marketable? Yet, I saw its potential and bottled the stuff…

And that, in simple terms, is the secret of my success!

TOM

When You’re All Alone

Jack was hitting the bottle pretty hard. Jill had left him for a foreign guy. He was taking it rather badly heading for rock bottom. Benny suggested a 12 step, but Jack just kept throwing down poppers. “She’ll be back,” he sang into his glass. Well you would have thought it quite improbable but Jill after being jilted by that foreign guy showed up on Jack’s doorstep. “Jack can I come in,” she said swinging the door inward. Gingerly she made her way over the drifts of empty bottles to where Jack sat. Sadly the bottle had already taken him.

SERENDIPITY

Just one bottle left now, such a shame. My father’s home made wine wasn’t that bad at all. Sadly, now that he’s gone, this bottle is all I have left of him.

I silently raise a toast to him, before draining the glass.

Later, as I tipped the last few drops into my glass and savoured the end of an era, I pondered on what to try next.

Maybe I should do away with mother too? I’m sure she’d ferment well, and I’d get a good few gallons from her too…

I’m pretty certain she could be a great vintage!

LIZZIE

“And a bottle of wine,” he ordered. “You’ll love it. Super expensive.”
She didn’t drink. He knew it but didn’t care. He went on to talk about his expensive new suit. Didn’t he look smart, he asked, scanning the restaurant for familiar faces.
“This is the best place in town, very hip, super expensive too. Oh, hey, Vincent,” he waved hellos left and right, turning his back to her.
When she walked away, he didn’t even notice it. And now he had that super expensive existence all to his radiant, perfectly pathetic self. And she was free. Wasn’t life grand?

TURA

Bottle
———
I love building ships in bottles. They’re nothing like your great-grandfather’s. I design them on the computer and fabricate them with a 4D printer, with intelligent microrobots to play sailors setting sails and mounting broadsides.

But I shouldn’t have set my two latest bottled galleons side by side. They started fighting, and one day I found the bottles broken and the crews missing. Trouble is, the microbots are powered from the house induction charging loops. The off switch is inside the house. And they can access the machines that make more robots.

Maybe I should just burn the house down.

NORVAL JOE

Dashing among the trees of the hardwood forest, Mickey leapt to the first branch within reach. In no time he was swinging from branches, almost flying across the tops of trees. Finding a comfortable spot, high in a maple, he waited for his former captors to stumble through the underbrush below, search in vain, and return to their hideout.
As the night drew on Mickey knew he needed a warm safe place.
In the nick of time, he found a dilapidated cabin with all the amenities of home; a moldy blanket, a package of ramen, and a bottle of water.


PLANET Z

Why is it that Guinness tastes so much better when you get it on draft at an Irish pub than when you buy it in a bottle at the store or in one of those stupid special cans with the plastic block in it?
Well, instead of carbon dioxide, a proper Guinness tap uses a mix of Nitrogen and carbon dioxide.
Also, the tap is specially-designed for stouts.
Finally, the keg at the bar is probably fresh, while those bottles in the back of your refrigerator have been sitting there for years.
Do you need a ride to the hospital?

The Horror of Baker Hill

The Horror of Baker Hill hasn’t actually killed anyone.
Oh, there’s been lots of deaths up there.
But they’ve all been accidents.
Kids falling into ravines.
Heart conditions. Suffering asthma attacks.
Once you get to know him, The Horror is actually a decent guy.
He collects old baseball cards. And newspapers.
And chainsaws. (None of them actually work.)
What’s with the bone pile?
Well, he loves his pets so much, when he loses them, he tries his best at taxidermy.
But he’s not very good at it.
So, leave him alone.
And go back to your camp.
At Crystal Lake.