Half Day

My secretary Mary is talking a half-day today.
“Are you taking the morning off or the afternoon off?” I ask her.
She laughs. “I’m taking the even minutes off.”
I ask her what the hell that means.
She puts her hand in my face “I’m off the clock.”
“Off the clock?”
She doesn’t respond… so, I wait.
Eventually, she gets back to typing.
“Odd minute. I’m back to work.”
And she types for a minute… then stops.
I gather up some cardboard boxes and put them by her desk.
“Now you’ve got the whole day off,” I say. “You’re fired.”

Schools Were Closed

Monday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there were icy conditions on the roads, so they couldn’t run the buses.
Tuesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there was a hurricane warning.
Wednesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said that there were wildfires in the area that were threatening populated areas.
Thursday, schools were closed because the weatherman warned of flash floods.
And on Friday, schools were closed.
No, the weatherman didn’t say anything.
It was because everybody with children had moved away.
What kind of person would raise their kids in a crazy place like this?

Kona Wired

The owner of the company came back from Hawaii with a suitcase full of bags of coffee.
This isn’t suspicious at all to airport security. They just perform the usual agricultural inspection.
He gave me a bag of ground Kona as a gift.
I thanked him, and when I got home, I brewed a cup to try.
That was eight hours ago. I’m sitting in the tub, wired beyond all capacity to sleep.
It was only one cup. And what a cup it was!
I think I’ll have another.
It’s not like I’m going to be able to sleep, right?

Weekly Challenge #507 – Pound

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:

Evil smudgeface

JEFFREY

The Diet
by Jeffrey Fischer

My wife observed that I had gained a few pounds – if by “few” one meant around 20 – so I resolved to do something about it. I ate smaller portions, I exercised more, and I filled up on leafy vegetables. Nothing worked.

As I poured myself a stiff drink, my wife made an arch comment about the number of calories in alcohol. “No wonder you’re not losing weight.”

“Honey,” I replied, “a man has his limits. I’m hungry after meals, I keep eating rabbit food, and if this bicycle weren’t stationary I’d have pedaled to Alaska. Of *course* I need to drink more.”

Foreign Travel
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sam stepped up to the currency exchange counter. “Hello, I’m traveling to England so I need some Euros.”

The lady blinked. “If you’re going to the UK, you need pounds sterling, not Euros.”

“The UK? No, just England.”

“England is part of the United Kingdom. And they have their own currency, not the Euro.”

“Having two names is very confusing. They should pick one. And their own currency? Since when?”

“The UK never adopted the Euro. They’ve used the pound for hundreds of years.”

“The pound? But that’s a unit of weight, not money.”

“Over there it’s money.”

“Well, what do they use to weigh things?”

“I believe they’re on the metric system, so they use kilograms, not pounds.”

“This is too confusing. I’ll go to Canada instead. Gimme some Canadian Euros.”

“You mean dollars.”

“No, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that dollars are American.”

“Fine, sir. How many Canadian Euros would you like?”

“Just give me a hundred kilograms’ worth.”

CHARLIE

He would pound a couple of shots and a few beers, then he’d ask for a mixed drink and start making his rounds throughout the bar. Most of the time he would bring in a couple of cans of laughy string from the trunk of his Volvo and use it to “get the party started.” Without any circumspection or discretion at all, he’d cover one end of the dance floor to the other with yards of pink, plastic goo…a lot finding its way into people’s hair and their drinks. Dennis was an insufferable asshole, but he was our church pastor.

2nd

My friend dropped two-hundred pounds. She had gastric band surgery. After putting a thousand-dollar deposit down, she pays $150 month until the fifteen thousand fee is paid off. She was a compulsive eater, just as she is a compulsive talker. Her mouth is always moving, and if she isn’t talking, she’s stuffing herself with chips, cake, cookies and “little” bits of other fat-inducing goodies. After her weight loss, she lightened her hair and let it grow. She still weighs three hundred pounds, but she can walk now without help. Her gallbladder had to be removed and she has chronic indigestion.

3rd

My other mate dropped two-hundred pounds at the dog track each month. He had a severe gambling addiction, including purchase of lots of lottery tickets during the week, and spending a fortune on line with sports betting. His children went without, and his wife took two buses across town to work at a fast food place in Twiddlebury. Other plonkers dropped pounds on bets on the weather and what the sex would be of the next illegitimate child born at the nunnery. No one suffered more than his youngest girl, who had to wear the castoffs of her older brother.

RICHARD

#1 – Lycra

For my new years’ resolution, I decided to get fit – not necessarily going the whole hog and getting a gym body, but just lose a few pounds and tone up.

It’s not a pretty sight though – a sweaty, overweight, middle-aged bloke, red-faced and panting, clad head to toe in skin-tight lycra.

The gear alone has cost me a small fortune, but there’s a method to my madness.

You see, I reckon if you’re going to pound the streets, you have to make the effort to look the part… Even if looking the part makes you look an idiot.

#2 – One Pound

I know a pound of lead weighs no more than a pound of feathers, but trust me, psychologically lead is always going to seem heavier.

How do I know? Twenty years loading cargo, that’s how. I’ll take feathers over lead any day!

If it looks heavy, it will feel heavy – no amount of reasoning will make any difference.

Give me feathers, foam, polystyrene or bubble wrap any time and it won’t feel like work; lead or iron, and you’ve an unhappy man on your hands.

Not that management care – all they’re interested in is their pound of flesh.

#3 – Ogre and ogre again

Boggins could scarcely believe his luck – for once everything was going his way, and without any of that unnecessary mucking about slaying dragons!

Gazing down at the gold, he became aware of a dark shadow suddenly looming over his shoulder. A shadow that was disconcertingly ogre shaped and a rather angry ogre, at that.

“I’m going to pound you so flat, you’ll be a hobbit pancake “, the ogre snarled.

Once again, Boggin’s trusty staff swung into action and, once again, the ogre fell to the floor with a thud.

Taking no chances, Boggins resorted to double granny knots!

#4 – The gospel according to Norman: the parable of the annoying neighbour

It came to pass a man was aroused from his rest by a hammering upon his door.

“Why, neighbour do you pound upon my doorpost at this late hour summoning me from my bed?”

“Sir!”, the neighbour replied, “My young wife has wandered from her chamber and is lost! Will you help search for her?”

“Indeed, I will not – for a husband who loses his wife has no business asking another for assistance.”

The man closed his door, thereupon which the neighbour continued to pound.

Which bothered the man not, since he was far too busy pounding his neighbour’s wife!

CHARLIE

Pound Cake

By Christopher Munroe

Pound cake is delicious cake, made with flour, butter, eggs and sugar in a 1:1:1:1 ratio, baked in either a loaf pan or Bundt mold, then either dusted with powdered sugar, glazed or on rare occasion served with a coat of icing.

Recipes vary by region, but that’s the basics no matter where you go and, ordering a slice of pound cake, that’s approximately what you should expect.

“Pound Cake” is also a kiss off you can say to someone in the heat of anger, but it’s a confusing one that I wouldn’t recommend.

But that’s neither here nor there…

AUBREY

“You’ve got your pound of flesh. Let her go.” He growled.

“Come, come James, did you really think it would be so easy? I have everything I want now. You, the girl and the bomb.” The villainess retorted, as she slithered toward him.

She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. He waited for her to continue, but instead she slumped to the ground in front of him, revealing the so-called “girl” behind her.

“She talks too much. Gave me a good chance to get out of my restraints.” She held up a large wrench. “And to get this handy thing.”

SERENDIPITY

I like to think I’m contributing something to society – keeping the streets clean and safe, and giving those poor strays a little care and kindness.

Of course, working at the pound isn’t glamorous – it’s a hard, dirty, smelly job; and being voluntary, there’s no wage at the end of the day.

That’s not to say there aren’t perks – those special moments when we can rehome a stray with a loving family.

As for those who don’t find a home… They go into the mincer – I get a good price for the meat from McDonald’s.

I’m lovin’ it!

ZACKMANN

Thump. Thump. So my kid who is sensitive to noise can’t sleep. Neither can I. Thump. Thump. He tells me using the noise reducing headphones doesn’t stop the house from shaking and being on the opposite side of the house from the thumping doesn’t help any. This is the last time I buy a house that isn’t at least ten feet away from the next house. It’s like living in the goddamn Tell-Tale Heart every time the neighbor who shares a wall turns on his bass heavy stereo. I’m hearing the Tell-Tale Heart but I haven’t even killed anyone, yet.

LIZZIE

Andrew only wanted to belong to the group of cool guys.
“According to the book, to be accepted you must eat a pound of salt,” they said.
So, he agreed.
The result wasn’t good.
His family, friends, and doctors asked him why, but he never gave the guys up.
When he was about to die, he recalled having read that in China nobility used to commit suicide by eating salt.
His intention had definitely not been to commit suicide, quite the opposite.
The guys denied everything, even the existence of the book.
Andrew’s last thought was “Ugly people, happy monsters.”

MARV

London Bobby Nigel Bakersfield was patrolling his beat when he spied several boys harassing a woman.

Rushing to the woman, Nigel yelled “What’s going on here?”

With that, the boys scattered away,

“Are you alright madam?” Nigel inquired.

“Not bloody likely, I’d say” She replied, “those buggers just grabbed 2 pounds of Earl Grey tea I just bought for £6.15.”

Nigel handed the woman a crisp £10.00 note, grinned and said,

“I’ll make sure they pay well for it, I’ll be pounding some sense in to those young bloke’s heads”, slapping his baton in the palm of his left hand.

Background music was The Space Runaway by Alexye Nov

NORVAL JOE

Billy needed one more ten pound sack of steer manure and his project would be complete. Mixing the stuff at a one to one ratio with plaster of Paris he created a modeling material that was easy to shape, had a long working time and was light enough when fully dry that it wouldn’t be too hard to move the finished project.

Working the modeling material around a wire frame he finished the head of a life sized model of Donald Trump. He couldn’t wait to display his statue outside the hall where the presidential candidate was scheduled to speak.

PLANET Z

Her place is a mess, in the middle of a shitty neighborhood.

She’s a lousy cook, and the pound cake came out of the freezer.

But, man, could she fuck like lightning.

All guys had to do was get past that first dinner, spend a few minutes in the bathroom quietly throwing up, swish some mouthwash around, and they were in for the ride of their life.

Sadly, for them, and her, none did.

So, she got a few cats, fed them whatever canned stuff was on sale, bought an expensive vibrator from Amazon, and ordered out a lot.

Sports Sunday

The Texans were in Baltimore, doing their best to let the Ravens win.
Schaub threw his obligatory pick-six early, the Ravens ran a punt back for a touchdown, and all the Texans could manage was a pack of field goals.
I spent more time looking at my laptop, watching the live update of the blowout the Astros were suffering in Cleveland.
That’s when I picked up my Steve Jobs biography and headed for the tub.
Sunday is for sports on TV, but the Texans and Astros never got the message.
Maybe when it’s cooler outside, I’ll go read out there.

Crazy One

My sister has severe brain damage.
The surgeries to keep her condition from getting worse have made her unstable.
And the medicine makes her even more unstable.
So when she calls someone fucking crazy, they’re really fucking crazy.
Or are they?
The fact that she’s unstable, brain damaged, and perpetually drugged to the gills casts doubt on her credibility, right?
She can’t even identify colors. Or order anything other than a Big Mac and fries without freaking out.
No, she is the crazy one. Not me.
The voices agree with me, too. I’m not crazy at all.
Not one bit.

Census

Alvin The Census Taker goes door to door, asking questions and collecting data on his tablet.
He takes notes on the places with decent stuff to steal and without burglar alarms.
His cousin looks over the maps. He tries to mix up his collection route so the cops don’t see a pattern.
“They don’t give a fuck,” says Alvin. “My place got robbed five times, and I never got anything back.”
His cousin coughs, keeps looking over the maps.
He only robbed Alvin once.
Mistook a map to his place for a collection map.
He’s a lot more careful now.

Term Limits

Every Thursday afternoon, Congress empties out, and races to Reagan National for flights to their home districts.
Some would say this is to get the hell back home, but it’s really so that they can get back for an early start on weekend campaign fundraising.
I did a little fundraising of my own, too. On Kickstarter.
The project was to create medical nanobots, but there are so many other uses for these little buggers.
Project Term Limits: nanobots in the fuel supply for all these jet planes. To crash them.
When the last plane takes off, I send the signal.

Unravel

Tina flew a lot, but she didn’t like to read books or watch movies or listen to music.
Instead, she liked to knit. And she was really good at it.
She knitted sweaters and socks. On really long flights, she’d knit a blanket. Or something even more complex.
After 9/11, knitting needles were banned on flights, and Tina couldn’t stand the boredom.
So, she knitted her own plane. And pilot.
She flew around the world in her knitted private plane, knitting without end.
Eventually, she knit her own little world.
She lived happily ever after… until her cat unraveled everything.

Shows Stopper

Other than baseball and a zombie show on Sundays, I rarely watch television. Instead, I listen to podcasts, and I hear things that spark my imagination.
My wife wanted to check out Netflix, so I signed us up.
That’s when I saw all the Dr. Who episodes. And Torchwood. And Blackadder. And Red Dwarf. And…
Well, my podcast queue it getting clogged up. And I don’t get inspired to write as many stories as I used to.
But you know what?
Screw it. They’ve got all of that Futurama show, too.
Good news, everyone… it’s time for some more television!