Author: R.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Seventy-One, 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 Apple Pie

How about voting for your favorites?

[polldaddy poll=5202326]

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

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Zackmann

How can you be cooking apple pies at a time like this? Can’t you see the city is under siege and
being destroyed?
Relax dude, had to.
Why
Because we are out of pumpkin.
Theres a zombie in a spacesuit what should do.
Chillax, tell him were not very smart but we love Old Time Radio then point towards college
housing.
Zombie says Doctor Despicable is coming and you bake pies, are you sure your brainless?
Of course I am did you hear me use the words Dude and chillax?
When Doctor Despicable gets here I’ll lunching on college brains .

Pies, oh I love pies and destruction. What a wonderful day with more explosions than the Fourth
of July. Some wise citizen baked me a whole front deck full of apple pies. What is wrong, were
you out of pumpkin?
Sorry Doctor Despicable but all our pumpkins disappeared through a mysterious hole in the
space time continuum.
Lobo, load the pies into the Winnebago. To show my gratitude, I will not intentionally destroy
your house. Did you happen to see a zombie in a spacesuit or an odd man eating beef jerky or
mayonnaise sandwiches and babbling about Tony Danza?

Guard 13007

The editor rejected my manuscript. I called him up to ask about it, “Why did you reject my writing? It was good! I had extant word choice!” I picked a word at random from the wall, trying to remember what ‘extant’ meant.

“What? That doesn’t even make sense! And what’s with the word ‘enunciate’ all over? People don’t ‘enunciate’! They yell, scream, whisper, say!”

“Well my characters do enun… uh, enunciate!”

“And why the hell is it titled ‘Apple Pie’? That makes the least sense of all!”

“It makes perfect sense!” I yelled back, hanging up and grabbing another slice.

Tom

My oldest friend is a descendent of Johnny Appleseed. Seems more that just apple seeds got sow across the Ohio River valley. His mom had this recipe for Apple Pie that has been dated around 1760. Some speculated it could be from Elizabeth Chapman who handed it down to her son John. I’ve had some of that pie and can safely say if Mr. Chapman infected the settlers of the early Midwest with that heroin of desserts he would have had folk clambering for apple trees. I still have a hankering for a steaming piece of Mrs. Throne’s apple pie.

Danny

“What do I want for dessert? 　Hmm, I always imagined NJ Governor Chris Christie running on the platform of: 　”Vote for me, I’m as American as Apple Pie.” 　It’s a sick, twisted vision planted in my head. 　Clearly I’ve gone to far this time. 　I love apple pie, now I can’t get the image of that bloated corpse every time I dig into my favorite dessert. 　Again, I have desecrated a dessert by my sad yet demented view of partisan politics in the United States. 　So I think I’ll have the cherry pie instead.” 　The waiter, sighing heavily, walks away.

Steven the Nuclear Man

She struggles in the trunk. The Chevy’s steel frame muffles her
thumps and cries; the cotton in our ears does the rest.

The CEO of EMI glances at me, but I stare determinedly ahead. This is
too important. Too much rides on today. This isn’t our normal gig,
but it’s one we have to play.

She is gorgeous, even tied, even gagged. I knew – KNEW – how she was
responsible from everything from Greensleeves to Blueberry Hill.

We shoot her, bullets thrashing her flesh, her body tumbling down the
dusty levee. Our careers in the music industry are safe once again.

Norval Joe

The family across the street had a fourth of july party and invited us out of a neighborly spirit.
We had all the traditional food and music. There were tamalies, carne asada, and pasoli. For desert we had churros.
The was a mariachi band that played all the popular favorites. Songs by Banda archangel er quince, Los Tigres del norte and Los Angeles Negros.
Before the fireworks we busted open a pinata of President Obama.
Two months ago, they threw a party almost identical to this one.
I thought, this time they’d at least have apple pie.
Welcome to California.

TJ

Martin ordered a slice of apple pie and took a seat against the window.
With the afternoon sun streaming behind him he had the best perspective
on the coffeeshop while he himself resisted the notice of others. This
bookstore café was also one of the three best spots in the mall for
scoping out the food court and more to the point, the wifi hot spots. He
wanted to do some actual epsionage and discovered his notebook wireless
computer had been encountering a homegrown virus here. He’d been
narrowing suspects for awhile now, and was closing in on… The Hacker.

Planet Z

Ronnie came up with a lot of crazy pie-in-the-sky ideas, but an actual pie factory in the sky was his craziest.

He was going to bake pies in the sky for passengers.

“Why not bake them on the ground and carry them onboard?” we said.

“It’s all about the smell,” he replied. “That fresh-baked pie in the oven smell. Oh, that aroma!”

Now, this was the thirties, and airplanes weren’t the huge jetplanes they are today. Not enough room.

So he talked to the Germans, and they agreed.

As the Hindenberg burned, Ronnie screamed: “My pies! Oh, the oven mitts!”

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Seventy, 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 Pogo Stick

How about voting for your favorites?

[polldaddy poll=5180998]

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

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Boomer Bob

“Ben, why are you so jumpy? “
“I can’t help it Maw, I got what Paw says are ants in my pants.”
“Ben ride the horsey outside the store, okay?”
“Okay! Giddy up Silver” I sternly commanded as I rode the well worn plastic painted steed.
The quarters dropped in and off I went to the Wild West. It wasn’t until Skippy saw me and laughed that I felt embarrassed.
“I bet you can’t ride this horse like I can?” I responded.
Skippy pushed me off and mounted the ride while I rode off with his pogo stick.

TJ

A flood is maybe
the quietest
natural disaster.

Storms rage, tornados howl,
Hurricanes splinter buildings
like an explosion.

An overland flood
Walks unhurried over levees.
It swims into your basement
And chokes you beneath
A placid surface

Probably it won’t kill us.

It will take our property.
For some of us, it will take everything

It might take our health – mold, spores, sanitation

As the waters recede
And the devastation surfaces,

It will take our mental health.

You find debris washed in with the wreckage,
A doll, some book, a pogo stick.

Whose was it?

What was lost?

And why?

Lynlea

It was early morning and the group was excited.

The water was calm and the boat large enough so they could bring the dog along.

The captain gave his orders, “Sit ye down and keep ye hands inside the boat.”

The boat lurched. “It’s always watching,” he warned. “Throw sandwiches if ye must, but keep that dog away from the side.”

Everyone peered out into the middle of the lake.

Large ripples appeared.

“Here she comes you fools, hold tight…”

The head appeared; the dog suddenly vanished.

The captain laughed: “I never tire of that Ogopogos’ shtick!”

Guard 13007

“I was cleaning the garage yesterday,” I told John, “guess what I found.”

“What?” he asked, the same question everyone says when you tell them to guess. I considered hanging up, he was being kinda normal.

“You have to guess!”

“You found a bug? A potion?”

“No, those are from old challenges. I found something new for the next one, a pogo stick!”

I waited for a reply, one that never came. I knew they had gotten him for sure now, he was a Normal. I had to act quickly, and challenge the King with my pogo stick!

Steven the Nuclear Man

Sarah’s hand on my shoulder was soothing. “Relax, Jase. Convergent evolution doesn’t have to happen the same way everywhere.”

I shoved words through clenched teeth. “Yes. It. Does. That’s what it bloody well means.” An alien moved past the viewport, its body telescoping on the upward arc. “And then with Charles…” I stopped as his spacesuited figure went by, riding an alien like a pogostick. I spluttered wetly in indignation.

Sarah laughed. “It’s harmless. They like it, so hush.” She turned to get a communique. “Oh.”

“What?”

Sarah grinned. “We just found a planet where life looks like hula-hoops.”

Tom

We here in Pogo take our weights and measurements quite seriously. The Pogo yard is precisely 3.14 Baxters. Named after our glorious leader Boffo Baxter, died in a tragic chainsaw juggling accident. Each summer the daughter of the invincible involution replace yard stick all over the country side. Row upon row of red sticks gentle swaying in the wind. Reminding one and all of the immutable malleability of measurement. There’s a move on to make the PogoStick the national symbol replace that antiquated possum. We could lose the national motto too. We have met the enemy and he is Us.

Zackmann

Yes, grandpa I know it was intellectually stimulating and funny but comic strips don’t run forever.
Well, except Peanuts and Blondie. Most people only know your favorites from those history of
comics books.
Grandpa, I like your comedy routine for the talent show but most people will not understand your
Pogo schtick. Let me help you rewrite some on the jokes so younger people will understand
them.
Okay Jimmy but only if you promise to bring that stick with a spring and the baseball bat just in
case the zombies break through the wall outside the auditorium like last year.

Vinny T, Vince, Terrazabyte, Fricker, that one dude

Some days are meant to be enjoyed at a snail’s pace. Today was one of them.
It started when I awoke to the most magnificent aura of color filling the room as the sun poured in its daily cup of life.
Out the window and across the shimmering lake, I caught a glimpse of Mother Nature as an eagle caught its morning meal from the water.
Some days are meant to be breathed in slowly.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Took my breath away and squished my snail as my son decided to ride his Pogo Stick down the stairs.
Hello… 911?

Norval Joe

Philemon Mopani rolled over on his grass mat and groaned. He could never sleep long on the hard ground.
He got to his feet and hopped to the door.
Born with cerberal palsy, his small body twisted toward the right, his shorter side. The leg was stiff from years of spastic reflexes. As sped across the village to the outhouse, he bounced off his toes like a boy on a pogo stick.
The sudden hush from the night birds warned him something was wrong. Through cracks in the rough wood he saw the army of demons spread through his village.

Planet Z

The cavalry designation in our armed forces used to suggest a form of mounted soldier, typically on a horse.

However, these days, you’ll find armored and air cavalry units in various transports and combat vehicles.

There were experiments with other means of transportation, however, such as bicycle, war-dolphin, and pogo stick.

Despite initial successes during testing, each experiment failed, sometimes in quite lethal fashion to the troops (not to mention the war-dolphins.)

A strictly ceremonial platoon of mounted soldiers and their horses remains, although they do provide plenty of horse manure to fill flaming bags set upon the commandant’s doorstep.