Author: R.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Twenty, 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 avoid bursting into flames, pet rock, circus, who let the dogs out, and butter.

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

William R. Davis-Kenmore Swipe
Thomas
Colonel Terrance
Pamala
Tura
Chris Munroe
Tom
Logan Berry
Serendipity Haven
Lizzie Gudkov
Bonchance and Sevi
Zackmann
Dionysus
Guy David
Danny Dwyer
Cliff
Norval Joe
RedGoddess
Planet Z

RedGoddess

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post…

Obligatory cat photo:

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

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ELECTRIC BICYCLES

His usual mixture was 27% bright Virginia, 15% Cavendish, 10% Latakia, and the rest, pencil shavings, gun powder and selenium.
He smoked an antique Meerschaum once smoked by Gertrude Stein. Resplendent in his tailored, velour-cuffed, smoking jacket,
young Mr. Thomas was the epitome of culture, class, and achievement until he was caught by the pistol-wielding security officer
last week, stealing ladies’ underthings off the clotheslines and sniffing the seats of bicycles parked in the garage. Embarrassed
and bringing shame to the Thomas family, young Mr. Thomas took his own life by sucking on the exhaust pipe of his father’s Bentley.

THOMAS

His usual mixture was 27% Xylene, 10% isopropyl alcohol, 20% acetone, and the rest, liquefied petroleum gas. He spent his working day cleaning graffiti from public property. The taggers were brain damaged skateboarders and grammar school gang members. The Central Foxpups was the oldest gang, but the Middleschool Jezabels was coming up strong. They used 4 inch paintbrushes and epoxy paint for tagging, and they traveled in packs of nine. There were five painters and a lookout for each compass direction. They could paint a park bench or a city truck in five minutes, wielding a brush in each hand.

##

The new president, a total whack job, proposed a flat, 27% income tax for taxpayers making less than 15 thousand a year. The people were up in arms, so he raised it to 16 thousand a year. Those making over the amount were to pay in flesh. A pound of flesh would pay half your taxes. Three pounds paid the income tax and earned a year of satellite TV. The underground formed, and meat lockers at military installations were filled with tax payments. The mystery of the disappearing “underclass” was never solved and along with it, their flat, 27% tax.

COLONEL TERRANCE

Kenmore was an endorphin junkie, and the son of a very rich family in Piedmont Hills. He spent the winter sledding the alps,
popping frozen grapes and sipping martinis as he traversed the hills in a monogrammed bobsled. His sled runners were waxed
with a mixture of 27% beeswax, 15% unborn mink oil, and the balance, baby fat harvested by Falun Gong practitioners.
Kenmore Singewick Puttiterd had no use for ordinary people – especially the poor and disabled. He employed full time
servants to gather, plastic wrap, and dispose of his bodily waste, just as his friend O. did, in Montecito.

PAMALA

Stretching and groaning from the pain of decrepit bodily muscles, which occurs on this side of the age- hill of life the marathon from bed to kitchen looms constantly on the daily horizon.

Getting a cup of coffee and trying to awake, falling into the kitchen chair to again face the nemesis of that horrific ceiling spot. It was a past spaghetti dinner explosion that shot straight up. Four months that spot has continued to laugh at my inabilities.

Today was an epiphany and a solution with a light weight mop. Small successes equals age Olympics.

TURA

After global warming, the oxygen crisis. We learned in school that the atmosphere’s 21% oxygen, right? Twenty years ago it was. It’s 22 now. So old folks get to breathe a little easier, nothing wrong with that? At 24% you can’t fight city fires. At 26, you see long-term health damage: blindness, strokes.

No-one knows why it’s happening. Humanity’s grown so big, everything we do bumps up against something, like Alice in the White Rabbit’s house, but we still know almost nothing about how the world works.

At 27%, it’s the end. All the vegetation will burn until it’s gone.

MUNSI

Team meeting, everybody.

Here’s what’s happening. Sales are down, industries change, and we’ve got to change or we’ll be left behind.

So, I’m trimming the department budget by 27%.

To prevent layoffs, wages and benefits will be cut by 27%, and your retirement packages will change to reflect this.

Thanks in advance for your co-operation.

Huh?

No, my bonuses won’t be cut. They’ll grow, due to my skillful crisis management.

But that’s not important. What matters is, nobody’s fired, and we’re sharing the sacrifice.

This is good news, we’ve really accomplished something today!

We’re the few, the proud.

The 27%

TOM

Case of the Amber Rose of the Amazon

“Watson mind the body draped over the ottoman.”
“But Homes where am I to sit?”
“There is a sinister force afoot.
What does a tuck on an ottoman tell you?”
“I have no place to rest my feet”
“No, we must parse the subtle relationships of
the terms and arrive at their precise meaning.”
“Well, a tuck is a tuck is a tuck.”
“Just as a rose is a rose is a rose.”

“Clearly Miss Stein is at the center of this affair
but my mind fails me, a 27% solution is in order.”

LOGAN BERRY

When I was eight, me and my best friend Stephen broke into a neighbor’s house. We were looking for cash. Not a lot of cash, but enough to buy a bowl of French fries at Bud’s Grill. We looked in all the obvious places (on top of the dresser where my mother kept coins, and in the cupboard by the fridge where Stephen’s mother kept change), but our take was precisely nothing.

We liked the neighbor-victim, Mrs Davies, and were horribly remorseful when she found out about our crime, and told us with sad eyes that we couldn’t play with her daughter Anna anymore. My parents were furious, and I endured a month-long grounding and united demonstration of disappointment in me, their eldest daughter.

Stephen’s mother cried. And his father, before giving him a beating, said “childhood criminals are 27% more likely to serve prison time as adults.” He was always a total dick.

SERENDIPIDY

You may laugh, but consider what it’s like being me!

There I was: just a few hours old and, as my mother slept in her hospital bed, dad twiddled his fingers, growing increasingly bored.

Turning on the TV, he flicked to the news channel, smiling broadly at the news of Facebook’s stock flotation… hurriedly scribbling some figures on a spare scrap of paper, his smile grew broader still!

He nipped out for a coffee.

The Registrar arrived to collect my birth registration. Reading it, she frowned, shrugged and filed it away.

And that’s how I ended up named, ‘= 27% Profit!!!’

LIZZIE

“How much is 27%?” the kid asked.

“As much as it sounds,” his friend replied.

“How much is that?”

“It depends on the total.”

“The total what?”

“The total thing you want the 27% of.”

In the waiting room, the dialog went on and on, people getting impatient. Suddenly, a man stood up and showed his four-fingered hand, lifting one finger.

“See this? This is more or less 27%.”

“Oh,” the kid said, “27% is a finger! You should’ve said so in the first place!”

The friend rolled his eyes.

And… Just for the record, it was not THAT finger!

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

27 % by Severina Halotstar and Bonchance Longfall

Pablo received a letter from Espi asking if he would donate his sperm for her to have a puppy.
Espi gave details about the fertility clinic that Pablo was to visit and make a “test donation”. It would ascertain his virility. Pablo would do anything for his Espi. Perhaps if he fathered her puppy she would want a more permanent relationship. He put circus life on hold.
He was told the results of his sperm donation would be mailed to him in the express post.
Five days later the results arrived. Typed in bold: Sperm Count: 27%! (normal > 85%).

27 % by Severina Halotstar and Bonchance Longfall

Tom always gave 100%.
Meetings wasted about 40% of his time.
60% could still be quite effective except for the fact that company emails ate up about 20% percent of his time deleting corporate updates that
no one reads, along with letters from the HR and benefits departments.
Cost savings strategies of all employees disposing their own trash in the dumpster and a roster to clean the employee bathrooms consumed another 10%.
Further distracted by suspicions that his mangy old cat was pregnant and his wife of 25 years was going to leave him, rounded down his effectiveness to 27%.

ZACKMANN

“So have you checked out the new Podcast Database?”
“Yes, I have Zack and even signed up. Now stop messaging me about it”
“Sorry, I was afraid there was someone who I messaged more than once. The website is Scott Roche’s baby but I do find a database for podcasts creators and podcast fans a really cool idea.”
“So Zack, Have you entered any of your favorite podcasts or content creators yet?”
“A couple but I might have only caused Scott to do 27% more work because I am very, you know very helpful but maybe not so technically inclined.”

DIONYSUS CLOWES

Lifespan/Bo Diddley’s Money

According to Wikipedia the average human life expectancy worldwide is 67.2 years. And according to Aristotle, human happiness, the good life for humans, is a measure that only applies to a whole life. So what does it mean that her smile, the way she lowered her eyes, only her lashes visible, over the delighted smile, the light like early fall off her hair when I told her what I’d written stopped at 18? Isn’t that only 27% of a good life, of happiness? Who gets the left-over happiness that was ours? Where’s that fucking happiness now, 27 years later?

Ottawa

I thought of immortality figuratively when I first heard of Ottawa. Then I contacted him, because I thought it was desirable. He entered negotiations in a way that, over time, impressed upon me the literal and serious nature of the process: by photographing me with the camera he had developed I would become literally immortal. I would elude inevitable death.

Negotiations. He claimed it was better to think in terms of how much life I wanted to keep and insisted on expressing this quantity as a percentage.

Now (always now), 27% through life, I ask, why not 100%?

GUY DAVID

It jumped out of the water and started walking on the sand. I stealthily followed between the shadows, curious. It walked into the badly misspelled gift shop, named “Everyone’s Persent”. Others of it’s kind where already there. Others followed. All in all, there where 27 of them. They didn’t talk in any common language. Instead, they used a sound that was half way between a gurgle and the rumbling of a mad man. Seeing them up close, I recognized them immediately and I knew I had to warn the mayor. There was no doubt about it. The Murlocs have arrived.

PLANET Z

The city of Bellaire put radar speed traps on Newcastle Road.

The sign only said 15. It’s not my fault it only has two digits.

We fly down the road, ignoring stop signs and lights, zooming past the houses and the school and community center.

Sally and I scream with laughter.

As we came up on Bellaire Road, I opened up the throttle and pulled back on the stick.

The plane pulled up and we soared over the intersection.

Heading back to the airport, her phone went off.

It was her dad. The sheriff.

Of West University.

(He hates Bellaire.)

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Twenty, 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 avoid bursting into flames, pet rock, circus, who let the dogs out, and butter.

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

Tom
Serendipity Haven
Thomas
Tura
Tom
Chris Munroe
Lizzie Gudkov
Bonchance and Sevi
Guy David
Zackmann
Logan Berry
Cliff
Norval Joe
Danny Dwyer
RedGoddess
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post…

Obligatory cat photo:

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

---

TOM

Badger and Bolin decided to join the circus. What they lacked in skill
they made up in pyrotechnic-avoidance. Even though Bolin was heisted to
throw the last pet-rock into the flaming-butter he matched Badger’s led
right into the middle of the main-ring. “Well I guess this is it,” sighed
Badger. “No, who let the dogs out, the pit is chewing at my bottom,”
countered Bolin. “Save me,” cry Badger and scrabbled up Bolin’s shoulders.
Pulling the flame-thrower to the right the dog lay incinerated on the
ground. “Maybe 100 flaming-stones is a bad idea, lets do a water act
instead.”

SERENDIPITY

“STOP THEM!” – the fiery, furry cavalcade tore towards us, as people jumped out of the way to avoid bursting into flames themselves, the dogs slipped through the crowd in the Big Top like butter off a hot knife.

Reporters at the aftermath of what was billed as the biggest circus disaster in history asked the handler, “Who let the dogs out, anyway?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Weeping over the charred remains of a small terrier, he whispered, “they weren’t just performing dogs to me”, looking at the dog’s nametag in his hand; “this one was ‘Rock’… my poor pet, Rock”.

i need a lie down!

THOMAS

Someone at the Mackey Brother’s Circus was always narrowly avoiding bursting into flames. It was the clowns and pet rock trainer most of the time. The fire chief’s first question, was “who let the dogs out?” as they were the first ones to get into the butter the carnies used for the popcorn machines on the midway. The butter kept being knocked over into the big propane burners and spilling on the clowns waiting to climb into the midget cars at #1 ring. Last year, we lost six clowns to the butter fires, and still haven’t found all the dogs.

##

Masie avoided bursting into flames as she heat sealed the shipment of pet rocks and teddy bears going to the circus. The Baha Men’s Tune, “Who Let The Dogs Out”, kept playing in her head. She moved from the sealing machine, and popped a few bags of corn, covering the fresh batch with cups of hot butter in order to feed her quintuplets the first meal of the day. Masie was a little damaged, having survived a serious head injury when she was learning to skateboard. Her company was successful, nevertheless, but the quintuplets all succumbed to a vitamin deficiency.

TURA

When learning fire-eating, the most important lesson is: don’t burst into flames. Every fire-eater has their own secret recipe. Mine is paraffin and butter. The flames are showy, but they’re no hotter than boiling water.

The next important thing is: do not work with animals. When the dog act got loose, and I had this can of burning goop, well, I’ll skip the details. The dogs got a bit scalded, but they were right as rain in no time. They still kicked me out of the circus.

So I took my act onto the street. Me and my pet rock.

MUNSI

I let the dogs out.

Didn’t mean to, I’d thought they were safely inside the house, but I guess you let them into the yard to… you know…

If I’d known, I’d have closed the gate behind me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted them to get out.

But by the time I realized, they’d run out into the street, barking and howling and enjoying their newfound freedom.

And now we’re going to have to track them down.

But yeah, I take full responsibility, and I apologize.

My bad.

Also: It was me who put baby in the corner.

LIZZIE

“First, some butter, then your rock. You need the hair of a dog too. Ok, who let the dogs out?! Now you’ll have to chase them, and this will never be done,” the magician said impatiently, stirring the pot.

“But… it’s my pet rock…”

“Stop whining! This will make you the strongest clown in the circus.”

“But I don’t want to be the…”

“Enough! Give it up!”

When he threw a stone in the pot, the magician exploded.

“And finally, you want to avoid bursting into flames,” the kid said holding his pet stone with the dogs by his side.

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Pablo lay in the shade next to his new pet rock friend.
Hot summer day! Avoid bursting into flames was his goal.

He felt like a pool of melted butter.

He needed time to collect his thoughts after the accident in the kitchen. It rattled him when his master screamed
“who let the dogs out of the basement”?

Poor Pablo was having a really bad run of luck. Life was not fun here anymore.
He was thinking about running away and joining the circus.

He could be their star, after-all his Mistress
said he was the most beautiful of all.

GUY DAVID

The army of clowns slipped and fell. Child laughter could be heard from houses with barricaded windows. Apparently, someone buttered up the road. From near by houses, dogs started barking. Doors opened and the dogs started coming out, seeking out the clowns. Bites and screams followed. “You should have stayed in the circus” shouted someone, “You make a lousy army”. Some people started opening their windows and throwing flaming rocks at them. The clowns started running away in the opposite direction, trying to avoid bursting into flames and running out of town, and so the army of clowns was defeated.

ZACKMANN

“Where are we headed this time, Brock?”
“I have an interview with the Pet Rock Circus.”
“Pet Rock Circus, what is that?” asked Ash
“It had an odd start. An artist built a model of a circus and started to inhabit it with rocks with googly eyes pasted on them except two of these rocks were geodudes. After the Pokebattle that calmed the geodudes down about having googly eyes pasted to their backsides it was decided that Rock-type Pokemon would perform in this circus and the pet rocks would be sold as souvenirs. My interview is Tuesday in Goldenrod City.”

My friend convinced me that it was a good idea to buy a car with a rotary engine. He told me how cool the concept of a rotary engine is, I did see many Mazda over seven years old that were still on the road at the time so I purchase a nice rear wheel drive 626 for my wife. The rotary engines back then used quite a bit of oil. Months later a drive resulting in more flames than Katniss’ dress made me wish I had replaced the hood release cable sooner and add more oil before engine exploded

LOGAN BERRY

Four of them sat immobilized, facing the man with the bow tie. The fires raged. “When does it rain from impromptu?” he asked.

The four squirmed and struggled, sweat pouring like melted butter from foreheads bound tightly to headrests. Contestant number two squeezed the button, his gag was removed and he croaked, “Circus!”

“Wrong!” screamed the bow tie. Contestant two slumped in his chair.

Contestant three squeezed the button urgently. “Your grandmother’s pet rock!” she cried, hoarse from the smoke and heat.

“Correct!” Contestant three wept with joy as she was wheeled from the room.

“Last question,” bow tie said to the remaining three.

“Who,” he asked slowly, “let the dogs out?”

Silence.

Contestant two moaned, and tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid bursting into flames.

CLIFF

It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, the pet rock had been a craze years before. Why wouldn’t a rock circus be even more popular? Well, the flying trapeze fell flat. The rainbow colored stone clown drew no laughs. The granite lion tamer impressed no one. The people were staying away in droves and I was quickly running out of money. I decided to risk everything on one last act. It had fire. It had pizzazz. Who knew that the pet rock human cannonball routine would turn into a real flying projectile whizzing into the audience?

NORVAL JOE

Flappy searched the neighborhood’s dark bushes with his flashlight. He was so angry that he felt like he needed to take deep breaths to avoid bursting into flames. He knew it was his older brother, Flippy, who let the dogs out then smeared butter on the kitchen floor to make it harder to get them back in. Life in his home was a total circus and he was always blamed for being the clown. Flippy’s only pet was a rock. Flippy was jealous because it couldn’t do any tricks. Flappy always stole the show with his fifteen dancing wiener dogs.

REDGODDESS

Lola plans to leave work on time. She has processed all administrative paperwork and requests from guests. As she’s packing her oversized bag, one guest stops by the desk to ask a burning question. Typical, she thought. Five minutes before her shift ends…grrr. She greets her with a smile and asks, how may I help you? The guest shyly replies, “I’m new here and not adventurous.” Any advice on what not to do? Lola quips, stay close and whatever you do “avoid bursting into flames, pet rock, circus and butter.” You do that, you’ll enjoy our world-class hotel.

PLANET Z

The gang initiation’s simple, really.

Empty a gasoline can over your head, stick a cigarette in your mouth, take out a lighter, and light up.

Either you do it, or they shoot you.

Usually, the can’s filled with water, so nobody gets hurt.

But sometimes, someone doesn’t want you in, and they put gasoline in it.

Water has no smell, but gasoline stinks like… well, gasoline.

So once the can’s dumped, everybody knows what’s coming.

I got the gasoline, and the only one who smiled was Johnny.

So, I lit up, ran to Johnny, and held him as we burned.