Author: R.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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.

The topic this week was Mustard.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

• David
• Rick
• Mousy Walker
• Chris the Nuclear Kid
• Jeffrey
• Zackmann
• Kiril
• Tura
• Serendipidy Haven
• Munsi
• Mitchell Long
• Mitchell Long
• Tom
• Secret Rage
• Lizzie
• Steven Saus
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Justin
• Bonchance and Sevi
• RedGoddess
• Danny
• Norval Joe
• Singh
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of Bird.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

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DAVID

I have never understood why ketchup is so popular with fries. I use
mustard instead except when the ketchup is specially made or organic.
It’s funny that both ketchup and mustard are standard on burgers and
hot dogs, but not so much on fries. Ketchup usually has sugar in it,
by the way; whereas, most mustards don’t. For sweet mustard, the
sugar is usually something tasteful, like honey. So mustard rarely
has high fructose corn syrup unlike the typical brand of ketchup. Do
me a favor, would you? The next time you find yourself ready to grab
that bottle of red stuff, reach instead for the yellow and enjoy the
sour, the hot, the sweet, the dijon, whichever…taste your pick.

RICK

A Thing Or Two About Crabs

Blue Crab is the pride of Southern Maryland! There’s five parts to a crab … claw meat, leg meat, body meat, shell, and the mustard. The meat is all good! The shell don’t pose no real problems if you know what you’re doing, but, that mustard is some nasty stuff!

The mustard is the renderings of everything in a crab you’d never want to eat … heart, lungs, guts, and feces all cooked into a greasy yellow paste.

If you’re smart you clean out that mustard first thing!

If you’re lazy maybe a little mustard is acceptable.

If you’re mean you tell the yankees it’s where the flavor comes from.

MOUSY

Waking from my nap is glorious. The sunshine coming through the curtains feels like warm sparkles. My eyes open to see soft blues and happy yellows—hints of cottony pink on my blanky. Poby is right beside me, snuggling my face as I greet the afternoon. He’s my Poby ‘cause he’s white and soft. “Hey, Poby. What’s this?” Something squishy and warm. It’s pretty like Big Bird. “I know; let’s do like Mama showed us and make our hands, Poby. Swish yours up and down, like the sun.”

Daddy and Mama come in, “Is that mustard? It smells like…”

CHRIS THE NUCLEAR KID

Ingredients: hot dogs, buns, mustard, relish, ketchup, and cheese.
Step one: cook the hotdogs on a skillet at medium heat until slightly crisped and hot.
Step two: place the desired number of buns on a play and put a slice of cheese in each.
Step three: place hot dogs in buns, one per bun.
Step four: add desired amount of relish.
Step five: add desired amount of ketchup.
Step six: add desired amount of mustard.
Step seven: add a side of chips.
Step eight: add a desired drink.
Step nine: enjoy your fine hot dog creation and try new things.

JEFFREY

Perspective
by Jeffrey Fischer

Barbara heard the rattle of a knife at the bottom of an empty jar. She cringed as she waited for the angry voice. “Barbara, you worthless bitch, we’re out of mustard! How am I supposed to make a sandwich without mustard?”

Jim had always had a short fuse, but lately his tantrums had become more frequent. He exploded at the slightest frustration, often accompanying his torrent of verbal abuse with a good smack or two.

This time, instead of digging into the pantry to check for a new jar, Barbara pulled her .38 Special from her purse, checking the chamber to ensure that it was loaded. Maybe Jim needed to rethink how important mustard was to his well-being.

ZACKMANN

“What is this?”
“It is a container of Mustard Seed.”
“Father, Why Do we have Mustard Seed?”
“The same reason we have a bread box, son.”
“Dad, How can you put bread into a mustard seed?”
“Well son, No one really needs a box to put bread in anymore but so many people use that expression, “Is it bigger than a bread box?”, we needed one so you children would know how big one is and there is that Bible verse about “Faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains” therefore I bought a container of mustard seed.”

“How is the restaurant business going, Manager?”
“Great the black and white ad form in the Pennysaver is working well. We really have a lot more customers with that grey coupon.The thing is I promised the owner’s wife that I would help reduce the amount of salt he eats but he loves mustard so I would add some vinegar and water to his favorite condiment. I had an easy time when he had poor eyesight but his laser surgery worked really well. Now he sees everything and it really bothers me now that I can’t cut the mustard anymore.

KIRIL

Life is like a package of hot dogs.

You can choose what type of dog

to eat, but the number in your

pack may vary.

When you eat your hot dog

you can put a variety of mustard

on it, even wrap it in a bun,

or do something corny.

Your life can be regular, or spicy, honey,

just be aware that, sometimes,

when you least expect it, the

mustard comes off the hot dog.

Don’t just keep eating the same dog,

and moving on…expand your horizons,

exercise your balls…and give

Smack My Ass & Call Me Sally a try.

TURA

There are nine rooms… and the cellar, where no-one goes… except… I cannot remember.

I have taken to counting my steps. I can manage only six before resting. I enter a room full of potted plants, orchids, indoor palms. The Colonel is here, his back to me. “Good day, Colonel,” I venture, but he turns and bears a look of such savagery that my knees give way in terror. As the blow descends, I realise that it is I, Dr. Black, whose body will go down to the cellar, killed by Colonel Mustard, with the lead piping, in the conservatory.

SERENDIPITY

My first paid employment was a weekend job at Balloni’s Ice-cream and Burgers – a family-run establishment on the sea front. It wasn’t particularly glamorous: I was expected to wipe down tables and generally keep the place looking clean and tidy.

Anxious to impress, I hit upon the idea of displaying everything behind the counter in neat, alphabetical order… that was to be my undoing.

First customer of the day – two cornets, with chocolate sauce and sprinkles – with a flourish, Mr Balloni produced the ices, then reached behind for the sauce.

French mustard with sprinkles was not a success!

MUNSI

How To Make a Sandwich

By Christopher Munroe

The perfect sandwich isn’t difficult to make.

Bread, cheeses, meat of your choice, the ingredients will vary.

The important bit is, while eating, understanding your tiny place in an enormous, uncaring universe and, instead of fearing that realization, embracing it as liberating.

After all, if your place in the cosmos is essentially meaningless, you needn’t worry about petty problems, and are free focus on life’s small pleasures.

Like a good sandwich, for example.

…and mustard. Mustard’s also important.

So there you have it, the perfect sandwich. Theoretically easy, practically nearly impossible. I hope you one day manage to eat one…

ARCHANGEL OF AWESONE MICHAEL MOORMAN

Sandwich Apocalypse

You’ve gotta believe me! I have found the prophecy of the Sandwich Apocalypse! It states that on March 10, 2029, God will make an Earth sandwich! The first sign of the Sandwich Apocaypse will be the raining of mustard from the heavens in a massive wave, much like the squirting of a mustard bottle! Then, pickles will fall upon the Earth, smashing every major city! Then a rain of ketchup will fall upon the earth, much like the aforementioned mustard wave! After that, the world will be eaten by God! Wait a sec, where’s that rain of mustard coming from?

TAMMI

Little Red

Joe thought he was styling in his mustard t-shirt all summer. I thought he was dorky with his awkward gait and buck teeth. I mean, who wears mustard?

But that afternoon, his eyes caught mine and stirred the pit of my stomach. For years, he had been the goofy boy next door, and I had never shared this adult awareness with anyone before. I went inside to catch my breath and check my look in the mirror.

They left to get the pizza, and Joe did not survive the accident.

Everyone mourns the boy; I ache for the man.

TOM

In the Library with a Wrench

If you live long enough you will have at least three careers. Take the Mustard Man for instances, the actor famed for inquiring if your Rolls was stocked with a jar of Grey Poupon. Before his commercial career he had the dubious distinction for being the first actor on Broadway fully nude in Marat/Sade. Late in life he became the King of shattering the the 4th wall in the BBC production of House of Cards. A postcard child for power corrupts who chats with the audience drawing them into complicity.

You might very well think that; I couldn’t possibly comment

DR. FRAN

Tree House by DrFran Babcock

When I was young, in the Bronx, my mom set pineapples on the windowsill to ripen. I placed dollhouse furniture in their tops, creating magical tree houses. I could spend hours amusing myself in this way.

One day, my mom came into the kitchen while I was playing, pulling a jar of mustard out of the fridge. She looked at me saying: “I have to clean in here, find someplace else to play.” At that moment, the mustard jar crashed to the ground. She cried out, glaring: “Why does everything you touch turn to shit?”

LIZZIE

Lunacy and a song

The song is playing in the background, the distorted sounds of a mean man. Just don’t look at the Queen, shout out something, something obscene. And everyone looked and yelled and built a boat to sail up the road. Madam, Madam, go get a man, but not one like Pam’s old dirty brother with a ten bob note up his nose. Hold that bottle and squeeze it out of your glaring eyes. The clothes have a tone, a stain or a medal. A cheap man from a song is playing the Beatles in the background, playing softly from a hole.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Jesus paused for a quick breath, the crowd hanging on his every word. “…for lo, though the mustard seed is the smallest of all seeds-”

“Actually,” the nasal voice ripped across the crowd. “It’s not. Obviously mold spores are smaller.” The speaker stood up, straightened his hair, and adjusted his inevitable bow tie. “Even among plants the mustard seed is far from the smallest.”

Jesus sighed. A brief waggle of fingers, then Matthew, Judas, and John leapt on the man and brought him to the ground, silencing him.

“And,” Jesus said, “God abhors time travelers. Got that? Totally hates them.”

SINGH

Loving the Goddess of Mustard

She loved mustard – not that gloop grand-kids squirt up walls, courting summary execution. She pined for pungent stuff in sweet pots from ye olde oaken vat, whose floating crust the once-upon-a-time mustardeer’s apprentice probed with a paddle. If it broke and sank, he’d say. “This cuts the mustard not, Sirrah!”
At snack time, she’d sliver ham and tomato, then bite into her cracker lathered — not with any Betty-bought-bit-of-bitter-butter. No. Long ago, she had sold her soul to the Devil’s Kitchen for a wicked spoonful of hit-the-sour-spot, gold-standard mustard.

*
Born of ancient stone masons and kitchen goddesses, the Mustard Goddess lived on Mason’s Parade with the jolly good Colonel, her devoted protector-partner. Both practised The Precepts: thou shall not waste Time, Money, and certainly not Mustard. Arcane wisdom put sugar into vases and roses bloomed long; spinach and bananas wrapped in newsprint stopped sweating in the fridge; left-overs paid it forward to tomorrow’s remix lunch. The thrift goddess had maintained everything with deep regard for its intrinsic and sentimental value, while the good Colonel quietly acquired new items of innovation. She included all in her dragon treasure hoard.

*
Meanwhile, the OJ decanter and skim-milk jug clinked and chatted about budgetary constraints, while the TV watched its own portable news broadcast, and midday movie as she multi-tasked, polishing life’s Laminex bench tops. Around her, gadgets whirred and stirred. A timer sang, the dishwasher slurped as she programmed the time-travelling microwave to cook the future in 60 seconds. It all made sense in a squeaky-clean universe. Ironically, she was at home with kitchen technology, although the Colonel’s computer and gregarious on-line life she viewed with a wary eye. “You are wasting time.” she would say.

*

The fact is, she worked hard in her micro world, ready to plan for the proper entertainment of guests. This made sense. A friend was someone sitting before you, talking in the flesh, not somewhere down the internet superhighway.
As the Angel of Order, she welcomed visitors to stay in their granny flat. Out There, disorder could be accommodated safely with old plates, cups and used cutlery. She provided a tray of fine teas – Earl Grey Blue Flower, Oolong Lychee and her favourite – Prosperi-T. She thought she had everything covered. That was until the unexpected return of the Messy Son.

*
The prodigal had roughed it with holy-men in the land of tea plantations, seen big stinking urban slums and was on speaking terms with germs and chaos. He dumped his disheveled kit and road-bitten guitar. Instinctively, he ignored the satellite kitchenette and launched a midnight guerilla raid on the mothership pantry. Next morning, the Mustard Goddess found her kitchen in shambles. This opened a unique chapter in the Mason’s Parade annals, related occasionally at dinner with ready wit by the Colonel, or when dressed penguin-like in dinner-suit with cummerbund as Grand Pooh Bah at his Masonic meeting.

*

To express this devotion at the altar of the Mustard Goddess, the son in question had wolfed down left-over pizza, pulled off both the drum-sticks from tomorrow’s chicken salad, broke off some hunks of expensive cheese, added olives, pickles, thick hackings from the ham-bone and cracked the seal on three of her premium mustard jars for variety. It was a fulfilling feast, especially leaving the refrigerator items such as pickle and mustard jars out ringing his empty plate of scraps, rind and bones like sentinels of a mother’s love. This was the unconscious message he was sending her.

*

As psychologists tell mothers with challenging children, raiding the refrigerator is an archetypal act. Its rites-of-passage importance cannot be understated. It has to do with bonding. The mother is the refrigerator. The needy child must feel he has access to his parent at any moment. Thus midnight snacking, especially on expensive sacred hands-off taboo foods such as special cake, ice-cream, or if in savory need —sausage, or cheeses with pickles and of course – mustard, is the child crying to be fed at the breast. Leaving a visible mess behind is an act of highest love for her.

*

Unfortunately, the Mustard Goddess saw red. The open olive, pickle and mustard jars around his plate were not like broken columns of a temple surrounding a sacramental feast. It was mess and mayhem. After clearing up, she went to complain, but found him gone. She waited to pounce all day, but he didn’t return until midnight again that night, when he once more paid homage to the Mustard Goddess, raiding her fridge a second time, leaving evidence of his love as before. Sleeping late in the flat, it was convenient to slip away unseen by the side gate for the day.

*
She had had enough and waited up on the third night, but he didn’t come. She knocked on his door, and after there was no answer, she went in, only to find the bed unmade, cushions and dirty washing willy nilly. His note was on the table:
Dear Mum,
Happy birthday. Gone for a music festival. Back Monday. By the way, got you a present.”
Indeed, he had bought her a gift hamper of selected mustards and beside it, with the mustard dispenser from the cupboard he had squirted a yellow smiley across the bench-top and lovingly signed his name.

CLIFF

I used to live in an apartment building across town. The guy in 3B was an evil looking guy with jet black hair and crazy eyes. When someone suggested that we have a building-wide cookout on Independence Day, I hoped 3B wouldn’t show up, but he did. Most folks brought one food item and a drink. 3B brought devil’s food cake, deviled ham, deviled corn, and deviled eggs. “I just love to cook,” he said. “No one ever bothered to ask.” When I asked what was in the delicious eggs, he replied “Just mustard, salt, pepper, and an innocent soul.”

JUSTIN

I was sitting at this food shop in lower Hengsha, putting mustard on a hot dog, when I thought I was going to die. I’d seen some scary gangers, loaded with augs, but then this guy stepped up and he was like, almost totally a robot. He threads were sweet, and if he met a group of those auged up gang guys in an alley, I’d bet on this dude. I wonder if he’s even human anymore, or if he’s just a machine? I mean, he ordered dim sum, so, that’s normal, human, right? Still, scared the hell outta me.

SEVI and BONCHANCE

Murder!

He is the kindest man I know. He wouldn’t speak a word out of turn about anyone or anything. He has impeccable
posture. As ex military, he is a stickler for proper posture. “Sit up straight boy!” he would bellow.
Would you like to know what I think made him do it?
He couldn’t let go of how he was wrongfully accused of that murder by the other boarders. Those people didn’t
have a clue! Imagine, condemning poor Colonel Mustard of cold-blooded murder! With a pipe wrench of all things!
Now he has actually done it! Yes, I blame them!

The Smallest Seed

Pepe had a plan! He devised an innovation to make some extra scratch. That creative think tank with the Chairman
fueled his passion. He scored seeds from a guy named Matt and set out to cultivate his crop. “Pepe, Pepe quite contrary how does your
garden grow?” he woofed as he trekked to his harvest.

Pepe panicked, the spouts didn’t look “right”. He analyzed the pictures of baby crops of mary jane.

An epiphany merged. These are mustard seeds!

When confronted, the merchant just gave him a sermon about faith and mustard seeds. “So small yet, able to move
mountains!”

RED

Lola loves buttery soul food. She will never understand how women subject themselves to diets. She sure as hell isn’t substituting mustard for mayo. She has enough dos and donts in life. She tries to keep her curves in place, but if there is some chocolate, she ain’t holding back. Her admirer has picked up on that and knows just the right food to cook for her. Even when he’s away, he spoils her with desserts and other delicacies that are irresistible. Yeah, rich buttery food, mayo over mustard and with every bite she likes him more for loving her as she is…

DANNY

famous mustard line. What a cocky statement, considering the Stomach suffered a humiliating loss to character of Fink, played simplistically by Keith Knight. Keith was working in summer stock when he was signed for his first movie role in “Meatballs”. During the filming of the hot-dog-eating contest in that movie, Keith ate more than 100 hot dogs, without mustard. Fink beat “the Stomach,” whose performance at hot dog eating simply did not cut the mustard.

NORVAL JOE

The company crouched close to the opening in the passageway floor. Cindy, the princess, sat in the dwarven throne, her hands and feet tied.
Owen thought it would be best to have Shareeka drop them through the floor as they had passed through the earth back at the farmer’s cottage. Shareeka explained they would be left vulnerable for a potentially fatal few seconds.
On a silent count of three all except for Shareeka dropped through the hole to confront the goblin guards.
With a puff of smoke and the scent of sulfur and mustard, the room filled with goblin warriors.

My brother-in-law was over the other day for a family barbecue. I don’t know where my sister found the guy, or what she sees in him. He’ll argue about the time of day or if the grass is really green.
He said he wanted a mustard dog, so I put some mustard on a hot dog and gave it to him. He said, “No. You need a sausage for a good mustard dog. I know you got them. I can smell sausage and mustard.”
I told him that wasn’t a mustard dog he was smelling. That was my wiener dog.

PLANET Z

Fred’s been going around at night, squirting mustard in people’s faces.

He’d been doing this for weeks until the cops set a trap and finally caught him.

He called me for bail money.

“You know how vampires hate garlic and Frankenstein hates fire?” said Fred.

It’s actually Frankenstein’s Monst-

“Well, it turns out that Zombies hate mustard,” said Fred. “I need to get out of here before the zombies take over.”

I drove Downtown to bail him out, but he’d already hung himself in his cell.

MONSTER! was written on the wall in ketchup.

Deadly… Ketchup…

He knew about me!

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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.

The topic this week was Think.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

• Helen
• Chris the Nuclear Kid
• Jeffrey
• Secret Rage
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Alan Adena Tan
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Serendipidy Haven
• Tura
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Singh
• RedGoddess
• Norval Joe
• Justin
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of Mustard.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

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HELEN

As a child, I was told to “Think” before I spoke and children speak first and think
later. Time elapsed, I am an adult, and I do “Think” before I speak. Let me share a
phrase about thinking before you speak
Before you utter words T H I N K.
T – is truths
H – is honesty
I – is important
N – is necessary
K – is knowing
Do you speak Truths, with an Honest heart, and is it Important, and is it Necessary,
and do you Know what your speaking about.
How many times have you spoken, and did not think.

CHRIS

The Hell Gate

I have spent an eternity searching for The Doomsday Sword, I had found Excalibur but it was only the shattered remains. In the arctic I have come across Northern Frost Giants, Ice Trolls, and Abominable Snowmen.
Thanks to my quick thinking and great survival training, I have survived. I only wish there weren’t monsters to begin with. But then again we would not fear and become our own monsters.
But that is beside the point! I am still searching for the sword and hopefully I’ll be in time to shut the gates of hell before the demon Diablo has escaped.

JEFFREY

Marital Relations
by Jeffrey Fischer

Larry had been married a long time, or at least long enough that he thought he understood how the marital game was played. He knew the traps, the pitfalls in a relationship. “Do these pants make my butt look big?” elicited a rapid “You look lovely, as always” in response.

Despite his expertise, or what he perceived to be his expertise, Larry was caught off guard when his wife said, “What do you think? Do these pants make my butt look bigger than usual?” Think, man, think! he thought, scrambling for the right answer.

While he was still floundering at that question, his wife fired a second round: “When you say I look like a million, why do you think it isn’t it more?”

“Uh…” Think! he exhorted himself, but nothing reasonable came to mind.

That was when Larry decided that the smartest course was to quietly pack a suitcase and leave.

DR. FRAN

Think

In Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings they have signs with aphorisms on the walls or tables in the room. One of the signs says THINK. Some say it stands for: The Happiness I Now Know thanks to being sober (which I think stands for: Son of a bitch, everything’s real). What gets me is that a lot of meetings place the signs upside down. What’s up with that? Is that supposed to make me think more? My sponsor tells me not to think ever. So what do I do…do I think or don’t I think? I really don’t know what to think.

TOM

HEY 19

When you reflect on the levels of product placement in the media it’s a wonder there is any room left for plot. Whether it’s an Aston Martin or an Azure Mustang, Coke or Cadbury, Reese’s Pieces or Rolex timepieces we the captive audience are severed up a banquet of purchase possibilities. Most placements have the subtly of a sledgehammer, but others lie under the psyche sub rosa of pop culture Take International Business Machine Corporation they wedged their presence into Billboard’s top ten in May 1968. Got the Queen of Soul to hammer it home in a pounding refrain.

LIZZIE

Ruminations

He had the irritating habit of never doing what he was told. Go right, he went left. Don’t eat with your mouth open and he made it a point of showing his ruminations, although that could be construed as something highly philosophical, especially after a few large bites, when he would gravely state “I ate Sunday for dessert” while spraying the table with bits of food. So, when someone jokingly told him to jump out of the window on the third floor, they never expected him to follow through. His psychiatrist even commented “I think he misunderstood what was said.”

Chopping work

“We’ll never make it, boss…”

“We must.”

So, they left to fulfill the task at hand.

Hours later, back in the freezing workshop, they emptied the bags on the tables.

“I got 9.”

“9? Where’s the tenth?”

“Damaged. The guy tried to punch me…”

“Didn’t I tell you not to grab live ones?”

“Yes, boss, but this is an emergency…”

It was. They still needed 21 to reach the quota. How did they ever manage to convince the chef of the local delicatessen restaurant that fried fingers would become fashionable? And to think of all the chopping work still ahead…

ALAN

HAMLET

They couldn’t persuade him to go out, so they left him behind with his books. They, in the meantime, had dinner and drinks at Gerry’s Grill. By nine in the evening, they were at Chef and Brewer’s dancing to the funk band, The Bedroom Boys. They wound up the night at a girlie bar carousing and singing karaoke. When they returned, they found him on the rocking chair dead. “He thought too much,” they remarked. The next day, they buried Hamlet.

MUNSI

The Worst Joke I Know

By Christopher Munroe

So Rene Descartes walks into a bar.

He’s finished an axiom a day ahead of schedule, and as such has a three-day weekend he hadn’t expected to have. Therefore, he plans to get schnozzled.

And schnozzled he becomes. Shots of Jagermeister, beer by the jug, by two in the morning he’s propped against the bar to keep from falling.

Still, he’s good folk and he works hard. Nobody begrudges him.

“One for the road?” the bartender asks, and Descartes scoffs.

“Are you kidding? I’m already so drunk I can’t even think!” He replies, then vanishes, never to be seen again…

ZACKMANN

“Does your new thinking cap work?”
“Not so well, I think I use the wrong Thinkgeek website because all I can think about is small headless animals.” replied Zack
“Now trying my thinking pants.” Joe sings “Ooh ahh, dance in smarty pants.”
“Stop that singing. Don’t try using those. My mother says whenever a guy thinks with his pants it can only end in tears.”
“Say Zack, Do you think we spending too much on useless gadgets?”
“I was told if I thought I would be dangerous.” .
“Well, someone should have told you, you’re more dangerous when you don’t think”

“What are you building up here?”
“Didn’t I tell you I am starting a think tank and tonight we are going to take over the world”
“Really?”
“Oh my yes, I am making It and It will solve all of our problems. People are unhappy because they think too much and It will do all our thinking for us. It for President. Vote It in 2016.”
“You’re teasing?”
“Actually it’s It, a prop for a stage performance of A Wrinkle in Time and I am making the Happiest Sadist. Do you like It? ”
“I hated It I reading the book”

TURA

It had taken years, and millions of dollars, but at last, the Artificial General Intelligence project was ready for its first demonstration.

The professor took the microphone in his hand, and spoke its first command: “Computer! Think!”

Billions of transistors performed billions of operations every second, while incomprehensible patterns flowed across the front panel, and retro magnetic tape drives twitched back and forth. At last, the screen displayed the computer’s response: “Computer! Think!”.

“Great, the speech recognition works. Do you think that will be enough to keep DARPA off our backs for another year?”

The programmer snorted. “Not a chance.”

SEVI and BONCHANCE

Salt

The distrust was tangible throughout the salt negotiations.
The Americans presented a sweet deal to the Soviets;
consequently they couldn’t understand why the Russians balked.

Soviet behaviour was explained by lead Air Force General.

“Sir they know that we know they are cheating.
They intend to continue cheating. We factored that in,
however they are oblivious to our cheating tactics.

“General we are not cheating! Sir,if they don’t find ours, they won’t sign.”
They laboured all night weaving sneaky cheats into the treaty.
The President promoted the General to a staff position saying,
“Son I like the way you think”.

Think About It

Carl sat at the table gazing down at his cup of coffee as his wife chattered.
This was their reality. His wife would talk; Carl meditated with his cup of coffee.
Diane finally noticed that Carl had not stirred for over 10 minutes.
By now he would have shuffled off to warm his coffee.

“Carl?”

He looked up blankly “Yes my love”?
“What are you thinking about? “Nothin honey”.
She smiled and nodded, pouring hot coffee into his cup.
Early on in their marriage, she didn’t believe that answer.
Overtime acceptance set in.
Men miraculously really could just “not think”.

CLIFF

The robot was supposed to respond to David’s thoughts. We had built the war machine and the sensors that connected it to David, the pilot. Today, we had the live test. David cleared his mind, put on the sensor helmet, and his face went blank. I held my breath and waited. The robot stepped onto the field, surveyed the surroundings, and promptly put a missile into the Toyota parked in David’s spot. David drove a Chevy. He apologized profusely. Apparently, his unconscious mind had more input than we thought. That’s when I decided to stop messing around with David’s wife.

SINGH

Welcome to Geekosity!

We are such stuff as dreams are made on.

Unlike Shakespeare we used to think the mind was enchained. Decades of research have shown this isn’t so. Brain plasticity can alter and with special training we can develop higher functioning abilities. Like a fitness centre where you exercise various muscle groups, we have designed an online brain-gym to grow cognitive know-how, spike memory ability, cultivate problem-solving, and balance right brain, left brain coherence — and increase attention span, duh! In other words — warp speed your thinking to the next level. This is the Age of the Nerd! Welcome to Geekosity.com.

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“As a professional gambler, my eyes are constantly scanning every combination of clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds. I must memorize and discretely bet, or video surveillance will bring the casino goons down upon me. Through Geekosity I am playing games like Multiple Taskforce, Hypothalamus Hip Hop and Runaway Roulette. My percentile average is up from 58 to 99%. Now I can play high stake Black Jack in my transvestite disguise with total confidence. Yes, Geekosity has quadrupled my earnings in just seven days. Without it, I’d still be a scratch lottery jockey down at the local drug store. Cool huh?”

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“Since coming from Slovenia, they were giving me bad name – Forgetful Franka. Business not good. Regular customer would come for ‘usual’, but I can not tell foot fetishist from simple hand job with mayonnaise customer. I am only thinking of dollar. This was until Geekosity super memory programmme. After just 12 days I can start tagging different sex toy to different name, different face. For example – riding crop for Freddy, dog muzzle for Carlo, bottle of mayo for Peter, plastic nappy for Cry-Baby Benny. Thank you, so much Geekosity! I am now serving customer good with open mind, open heart.”

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“Whenever we do a job it must be blue-printed, rehearsed and executed to the letter. Not everyone can waltz in with a sawn-off shotgun and terrorize customers to the floor while your partner bags the cash. And you have to watch out for trigger-happy security guards and bank clerks blowing the whistle with a buzzer under the counter. Geekosity’s speed, agility and problem-solving games have taken all the stress out of bank-robbing. We knock over one a week now. Seeing the results, Joey my partner is signing up. Thanks to Geekosity the sky is the limit!”

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These stories are from the ranks of our 30 million under-achievers. Each is opening his or her nerd eye, transforming daily from turkey consciousness to becoming high-flying eagles of aptitude. This is the golden age of the geek. Log on to our website and join the millions with self-esteem issues who are battling valiantly to get good at mind games. Why? To get good at mind games! Get in touch with your inner geek and become an ambassador of Geek chic. Sign up for a neuro-plastic self-assessment and trade in your old brain today!

REDGODDESS

Lola wakes up in a daze, blinded by scent of romance. She rolls over to realize he’s not there. She tries to trigger a memory from her New Year’s Eve date. “How could he leave her in his strange bed? She thinks it’s best to get out of here. Draped in a white satin sheet, she tiptoes through an open door, following the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. She is surprised to see “him” cooking shirtless.
Clearing her throat, she greets him. “You’re awake, my sleeping beauty,” Lola is exhausted but finds energy to soak in the view. The kitchen table adorned with decadent pastries. She drops the sheet and sat next to him. Lola sips her coffee, looking over at him, and firmly asks, “Where do we go from here?…

JUSTIN

Adam Jensen stood over the hacked console, finger hovering over the screen. One press of a button, and the security robot would rampage against the guards. Adam remembered the screams after he hacked that turret. Did those men have families? Were they just trying to feed them with a job like everyone else? Did he have a right to end their lives, even if they were bad men, when he could just take them down without killing with a little more effort? With one press of another button, he deactivated the security robots and went on his way, sneaking, non-lethal.

NORVAL JOE

The company followed Flindert back down the passage to an intersection, the sorceress lighting the way with a glowing silver ball. The tunnel curved slowly back to the right and Owen tried to picture in his mind where they had gone in relationship to the throne room.
“I think,” The second word was barely out of his mouth when Traveller clamped broad hand over Owen’s lips. The ranger motioned to the ground with his other hand.
A hole in the floor revealed the company had climbed over the throne room and now stood directly above the princess and her captors.

People say Dr. Seuss was a creative genius.
As a child I found his illustrations disconcerting and at times downright depressing.
And his text. My Daughter insisted I read her the book, “Oh the thinks you can think.”
Get this;
“If you try,
you can think up
a GUFF going by.
And you don’t have to stop.
You can think about SCHLOPP.
Schlopp. Schlopp. Beautiful schlopp.
Beautiful schlopp
with a cherry on top.”
That’s not creative. That’s lazy poetry. If he couldn’t come up with a rhyme, he just made up a word. And he never once mentions wiener dogs.

PLANET Z

Fred’s job was to think up amazing things.

He’d sit at his desk all day with a wistful look on his face, and every now and then he’d sigh.

His boss asked him if he’d thought up anything useful, and Fred would say “Yes.”

Then he’d sigh again.

When the CEO asked him to be more productive with his time, Fred said “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

And he did.

His quarterly report showed that he’d thought up three times as many amazing things than in the previous quarter.

He had plenty of time to think in the Unemployment Line.