Author: R.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is 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:

• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Anima
• John Musico
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Tom
• Munsi
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Stoolie
by Jeffrey Fischer

Young Vinnie burst into the capo’s office. “The cops busted Joey,” he said, gasping for breath. The capo thought about this. “Joey’s solid. He won’t sing.”

Tony, the outfit’s lieutenant, said, “I dunno, boss. Joey’s looking at serious time, and he knows a lot about this organization. What if he cuts a deal?”

“Good point,” replied the capo. “I hate to lose Joey, but better not to take a chance. Vinnie, when he’s sprung from the joint on bail, outfit him with cement overshoes.”

Vinnie looked confused. “You got it, boss. But how are cement overshoes gonna keep Joey from singing? His voice ain’t in his feet.”

The capo wondered how much inbreeding had gone on in Vinnie’s family. “Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

Doing Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

When the police caught Big Johnny red-handed, he knew better than to sing. He kept quiet, was convicted, and sent to Sing Sing for five to ten. Big Johnny found himself sharing a cell with pro golfer Vijay Singh, who had run afoul of immigration laws. Vijay heard Big Johnny sing in the shower – Johnny was a natural tenor but an occupational accident made him more of a soprano – and suggested they form a quartet with Fingers LeGrande and an overweight female guard named Lulu. Their performance was a great success with the cons, who applauded what they thought was the last number and started to leave.

“Wait!” Big Johnny implored. “We still have one more number to go. Everyone knows it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. Take it away, Lulu.”

RICHARD

Rock ‘n’ Roll

Ringo was always my favourite Beatle – I mean, playing the drums is cool anyway, but the guy had balls too. Let’s face it, he couldn’t really sing, so when you hear his rough and ready tones on Sgt Pepper with the question, “What would you think if I sang out of tune?”, it’s an in-your-face challenge to which there’s really no answer.

It’s an inspirational moment – one that made me, and thousands like me think we could be as famous as The Beatles too.

Unfortunately, I really couldn’t sing in tune.

Or play the drums.

Or the guitar.

Ah well.

TURA

Sing
———
The musical artificer is famous for his mechanical birds. They are made with the preserved syrinxes and throat-parts of captured birds, animated by bellows and exquisite clock-work, to exalt their song above even their voice in life.

The most withdrawn room of his residence presents his greatest creations to his most discreet clients: simulacra of the finest human voices, the opera singers of living memory.

And when the latest star of the opera was found murdered in the street, her throat brutally torn out, those clients wondered only which of them might become the fortunate owner of her preserved voice.

LIZZIE

Singing and dancing in the rain was not his thing. However, he was tempted to do it anyway just to ruin his damn shoes, a birthday gift from his girlfriend. Anticipating something as catastrophic as a pair of bright orange shoes, he had told her not to get him anything. She insisted and the result was… catastrophic. When the weather got worse, all he could think of was singing and dancing in the rain. When he returned home with ruined shoes and a well-rehearsed guilty look, she broke up with him. Hah! She knew him all too well, didn’t she?

ANIMA

Hallelujah!

What was that?

Handel’s beatific chorus rose from Claire’s chest, startling her boyfriend. They were still figuring out each others’ secrets, and there was much left to learn.

That’s my heart, singing for joy when you said you loved me.

Does that happen often?

It is my special superpower – whenever I feel an upwelling of emotion, my heart sings.

Strong emotions get different songs, like “Happy” by Pharell Williams, or a gut wrenching Tori Amos medley. But, if you try to adjust the “tuning knobs” when she thumps out “Brown Chicken, Brown Cow”, I will break all your fingers.

JOHN MUSICO

John
Sing

Professor Tenacio, marine biologist, studying the songs of Grey Humpback whales, couldn’t quite place his finger on a sense of familiarity.
He applied scientific method to the query. Basics. Evolution. The most direct descendants of dinosaurs to this day are birds from which other species, including mammals, are derived. Birds sing, as do mammalian whales.
He manipulated a whale song recording in a myriad of ways. It was that at several fold speed; the singing of humpbacks was identical to the songs of modern days birds. THAT was the haunting subliminal association he made, way back when this project began.

SERENDIPITY

Grandmother used to keep canaries in a small gilded cage. I would tell her it was cruel to imprison them, but she’d hear nothing of it.

“Of course they’re happy”, she’d protest, “just listen to them sing”

Those birds certainly could sing, and though it broke my heart to hear them, grandmother was far too stubborn to give in to my pleas to free them.

“Listen to them sing”, she said.

So I listened.

And this was their song:

“Go into the kitchen,

and find the big sharp knife;

Plunge it deep into her chest,

and end her worthless life!”

ZACKMANN

We paid the manager then entered a portal into a new dimension. We were separated so I started to sing hoping she would hear. Monsters appeared all around me. I journeyed to a castle in the distance. Finally, I reunite with my sister who tells me we are in a world in which magic is based on musical ability. She became an elven princess when I nearly got eaten by orcs. Just my luck that when she sings it sounds like the curly haired Marx brother playing the harp but when I sing it sounds like Jack Benny playing violin.

“Can you pick me up from the BART train station tomorrow? I have an audition for a singing part.” said Dylan.

“Sure, just call me before you leave the city.” replied his father.

“You may have read the story the play is based on.”

“One of Stephen Kings?”

“No, it is a musical play based on Paul Cooley’s story Mimes. I’m singing Mimes Mimes Mimes for my audition. Does a musical based on Mimes seem odd to you?” asked Dylan

“No, I loved the musical audio drama version sponsored by Pondie’s Wieners brand all beef frankfurters and break a leg.”

TOM

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me

He sang the body electric, turned the head and heart of a Dublin lad. In greater devotion to his mentor he created a beautiful monster. Some say Henry Irving was the inspiration for the Vampire, but I give you the following that more correctly points to Whitman both had long white hair, a heavy moustache, great height and strength, and a leonine bearing. Further, Dracula is the only character who speaks with a sense of rhythm, parallelism, and balance that is characteristic of Whitman. Stoker’s siren song of death singing through the ages. The armies of those I love engirth me.

MUNSI

Singing

By Christopher Munroe

Writing out a story

Singing what I’m doing

The prompt this week is sing and

So sing I’m going to do

Writing prompts in song now

This song won’t be long now

Can’t we get along now

I can, how ‘bout you?

I’m moving through the middle

Middle of the song

Yes this is the middle

Middle of the song

Moving toward the finish

Hope you like what I’ve written

But trust me; if you didn’t

I don’t even care

Taking this prompt meta

A little private joke-ey

What can you expect from me

When you make you prompt “Sing?”

NORVAL JOE

Bufford sat at the table, the collection chamber in front of him, his hands folded in his lap.
“What’s in the box, Mr. Picklehacker,” the agent said, leaning one hand on the table and brushing back her long blonde hair with the other. She licked her luscious lips. “We weighed it. It’s heavy–heavier than it should be.”
Bufford shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
She slammed her hand down on the table. “We have ways to make you sing.”
“I could sing, Sweet Heart,” he said in his best Humphrey Bogart. “But that doesn’t mean you’d recognize the song.”

PLANET Z

Before every major sports event, someone performs the national anthem.
Some do it well. And some don’t.
Oh, sure, some singers try to ham it up, and they look stupid doing it.
Or they forget the lyrics, and refuse to use the words on the scoreboard as a prompter.
The strangest I’ve ever seen was a man on a theremin and a woman using wine glasses.
It sounded really cool, until the woman spilled a wine glass on to the theremin and electrocuted them both.
Always use surge protectors, wear rubber boots, and ponder learning how to play the violin.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is 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:

• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Munsi
• John Musico
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Spate
• Tom
• Anima
• Jerry
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

What’s the next Weekly Challenge? Come to the website and subscribe to the feed to find out!

RICHARD

Tramps

‘Tramps’ is the name of our local nightclub – I worked there behind the bar one summer and I learned a thing or two, I can tell you.

When the punters have left and the strip lights go on, you see the place as it really is: dirty, smelly, stained and tarnished by the reminders of a thousand wild nights out that are really best forgotten.

And the girls look different too when you’re sober and serving. Ignorant, arrogant, and loud-mouthed; they sprawl over the bar counter, all tacky make-up and way too much bare flesh.

Tramps. The lot of them.

JEFFREY

Riding the Rails
by Jeffrey Fischer

I sat in the Business Class car in the last remaining seat, next to a pungent gentleman in disheveled clothing. He explained that he was a hobo on his way to Philadelphia.

“A hobo? Aren’t you supposed to be riding a freight train?”

He waved an arm. “This is a lot nicer. I sprained my ankle hopping off a car a few years back and settled with CSX for two million. Now I can afford Business Class on Amtrak instead of a drafty freight car.”

“Seriously? You injured yourself while illegally riding a train and came out of it with two million?”

“I know. Ain’t America great?”

Middle-Aged Spread
by Jeffrey Fischer

The evening had gone well up to then, Steve thought. He flirted with the woman at the bar – he was pretty sure her name was Alice – and they left together, heading for her place.

Some kissing and fumbling later, both Steve and Alice – or was it Andrea? – were naked. She turned, and he saw the tramp stamp on her left buttock. It may have started life as a butterfly but now looked like Mothra. Ah, the folly of youth, thought Steve. His own tattoo was a snake that now looked as though it had eaten a chihuahua. He shrugged and returned to exploring the realm of Mothra.

MUNSI

Spring Break

By Christopher Munroe

Nobody knows how tattoo ink came to be tainted with hallucinogenic drugs.

Maybe it was a problem with their manufacture, or perhaps somebody thought it funny to spike them, but there’s no way of knowing for certain, now.

Anyone who might have had answers is dead, after all…

What we do know is that, during Spring Break, close to two thousand young women, fresh tattoos on their lower backs, were suddenly thrown into uncontrollable, murderous rage.

We did what we could to get away from them.

But by then it was too late.

We were caught up in the Tramp-Stampede…

JOHN MUSICO

John
Tramps vs. Cosmo girls

Chicks just don’t get guys.
Fashion magazine ice women do not appear on the cover of porn mags for guys. Fine, fashion mags are for women, but why don’t women get that when it comes to guys, the slut/wanting look is what guys crave hands down? It seems that the sad, for a guy at least, obvious conclusion is that; females value of other women’s opinion of them- is more important than what males value: yeah, gettin laid. So how ought we confused guys proceed? Accept that once a female feels accepted by her peers, THEN she feels sexy…you dogs.

TURA

Tramps
———
I remember tramps.

They dont exist any more.

Friendly figures, but scary too, outside the rules. Like clowns.

“Gentlemen of the road” was the expression. Now they’re “homeless people”.

You can’t wander the countryside these days. Stick to the cities, more people, a numbers game.

To a small child, tramps were part of the world. They featured in children’s stories. You never thought about how that really worked, any more than you would in a dream.

That’s what childhood is, a dream. Growing up is waking up.

Reality often sucks, especially for tramps, but I’ll take it over any dream.

LIZZIE

The grotto was pleasant. The two tramps, Roger and Romeo, had dragged a sofa and a few other commodities inside. With the fireplace in the center, the area looked homey.

Then, Romeo decided to bring a lady tramp to live with them. The altercations became constant. She worked at night, so she was happy not to have to take part in the quarrels.

One day, when she got back home, she found a note from Roger. “I’ll be back in a few decades. Romeo checked out, permanently.”

Roger that, she thought. It worked. She had the grotto all to herself!

SERENDIPITY

The tramps are coming, and you’d better look out!

They’re coming in their hordes, with their funny waddling walks, toothbrush moustaches, bowler hats and twirling canes.

They’re coming to hunt you down, to whimsically beat you senseless; to break your bones with their careless capers and inept tomfoolery; to hunt you down and mess you up, with eyebrows wobbling furiously and slapstick hilarity.

So run and hide, lock your doors and stay off the streets because the tramps are coming, and they will be the death of you.

And, if you survive the tramps…

Just wait until the clowns arrive!

SPATE

Tramps In The Future

She leaned in for a closer look. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Hardly anymore.”

“Hell of a place for a piercing!”

Another shrug. “Seemed right at the time.”

“Yeah,” she smiled knowingly, “have ya seen my ‘seemed right at the time’?”

Not waiting for an answer, she whirled around and lowered the back of her
hospital johnny pants to reveal a faded, wrinkly, blue green splotch just
above the crack “Y” of her buttocks.

“That’s my tramp stamp but these fucking nursing home orderlies keep
mistaking it for a bruise!”

He laughed so hard his teeth fell onto the floor.

(music: “Gretchen’s Tango” by Ergo Phizmiz licensed under Creative Commons
Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England License / curator:
freemusicarchive.org)

TOM

The Spring was Brief, then Brutal

He was a child of the Prague Spring. Watched as his father fled to the Americas. As a young man he went Tramping across the Czech country side. Developed a deep interest in Steinbeck and the precise location of the frog incidence. Meet a fellow Tramp named Marta who shared his dream of freedom in America. They planned to hang glide into Italy, but in the end a college visa and a quick dash over the border was the easiest course of action. When the Soviet System collapsed, they returned home, but they was no longer tramps, she they were Americans.

ANIMA

Neighbors

Tramp tramp tramp tramp

Tramp tramp tramp tramp

There’s a herd of buffalo that lives above me. They have no consideration for anyone, stomping around all night.

When I bought, I had my choice of townhouses. The garden access was a lovely feature, but now I rue my desire for greenspace.

I called animal control. “Buffalo should be living on the prairie somewhere, not in the heart of downtown, right?” Apparently there are native American issues associated, and they won’t get involved.

So I’ve invited my friend Bill Cody to visit; he says he knows how to fix my problem.

JERRY

He came to our door one afternoon. His old bluejeans were stitched up many times and were darn near white from age.

My Mom was in the kitchen making supper for when Dad would get home.

Me, then a kid of about 10, ran to the door and yelled through the screen “Get out of here you old tramp!”

That was when mom whacked me up the side of my head from behind. She then brought the man some ice tea and a plate of food.

The tramp ate on the back porch while Mom taught me about respecting everyone.

NORVAL JOE

Bufford sat in a side room at Boise International with a variety of tramps, hooligans and other suspicious people. A TSA agent wearing a crumpled uniform, two sizes too small, stood at the door trying to look fearsome.
Bufford balanced the dark matter collection chamber on his lap until the door opened and two characters in black suites and dark glasses stepped in.
The one on the left removed her fedora, shook out her long blonde hair and said, “Mr. Picklehacker, please come with us.”
He tramped behind them to a small dark room with a single chair and table.

PLANET Z

Frank Sinatra sang lots of songs.
He also acted in a lot of movies.
But for all his talent, Frank never realized his full potential as a puppeteer.
He’s stay up late, working on his Punch and Judy act.
Except that it was more like Punchin’ Judy.
Judy Garland was his assistant, and the target of Frank’s frustration when things didn’t go so well.
She drank too much and took all sorts of pills, then died from an overdose.
Liza Minelli and Nancy Sinatra don’t talk about it at all. But you never see them playing with their dolls either