Author: R.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Forty-Four, 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 Make a run for it!!

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Dave

James and Dennis were putting the finishing touches on their system of fire crackers and cherry bombs packed into the dirt beneath the arrangement of plastic army men. James’ older brother decided to have some fun of his own and lit the fuse while the boys weren’t looking. Suddenly noticing the lit fuse, they bolted out of the yard and behind the fence. Silence. “Out you go Brownie,” their mom said as she let the dog out. Of course his nose sent him directly to the fire crackers. “Here Brownie!” they called, but it was no use.

Zackmann

Since the newspaper headline is “Last Print Edition Ever Due to Bankruptcy” are there any
stories you want to run but didn’t for fear of losing your job or add revenue.
Well there was this letter from someone Who call himself “The Punnisher” postmarked
Englewood Colorado. It had more puns than a Xanth novel. He had asked a couple times if
the newspaper would run a feature he called “The Punishment”. After he we said no, he sent a
really bad “The Punnishment” as a joke featuring a pun about electing a BlackBerry.

Steven the Nuclear Man

”You think he’s watching?” I put my hand on Mrs. Claus’ arm as she
shakes her head.

Her lips run over the elfin point of my ear. “Of course not. He
watches the human children. You are neither human” – her hand runs
down my body – ” nor a child.”

I fumble with the buttons on her blouse; she slides me out of the
green jumper. We explore each other’s bodies as twenty four hours
pass like one.

Which means he pulls up while we’re still naked.

I try to run, but damn if my socks don’t keep filling up with coal.

TJ

The tacky holiday sweater contest is a bad idea, especially when
you’re as competitive as we are. We all took a run at it, and the
office became an explosion of glitter, tinsel, garland, blinking lights
and jingle bells. They got us together for the judging and it’s like
Christmas threw up on us. I dressed as Rudolph with jingle bell antlers
and a blinking red nose, but we all lost to Karl, who wore a damn
Christmas tree. Later, he confessed he’d just hit the nog too hard,
tripped over the tree in the lobby and couldn’t get free.

Guy David

– …So, I just stood there staring as this guy started shouting right before lunch break, “They are going to turn us into mindless zombies and promote us” or something like that. That guy really lost it.
– Please don’t do that voice
– Sorry… Anyway, how was your day?
– Arms everywhere
– No kidding. Did you make a run for it?
– I wasn’t trained for this
– No one ever is I guess.
– I don’t know what the point of this is
– It’s an exercise in meaningless chatter.
– It’s all my fault
– Look – I have an extra bellybutton.
– That’s between you and the monkeys

Tom

I grab Sue Ann sprinting past the cosmetics. As she spins away she lays a fist to my rib cage. “Bit me Wendell.” She spits. “No but they will.”With out missing a stride Suzie levels the shot gun behind her and takes out two Zmart associates. Since major retail chains started hiring Zombies Shopping is an adventure. Rounding the oral b Kiosk she hacks the ends off a half dozen toothbrushes with a machete. Out of housewares three associates claw at her. Sue pounds a brush into Two forehead rolls forward backhands the third zombie. Bitch clowns eat oral.

Beth and Gina

Fake Fire, Fake Tree, Fake Cat,

Real Beer, Real Whiskey, Real Smokes, Real Good.

Trust me.

Im sitting between a fake fireplace (television playing a fire inside a real fire place) and a Christmas tree made of plastic, donning lights, and crystalline ornaments.

The fake cat is asleep next to me. I watch it’s smooth even (battery powered) breaths.

So We are sitting here, watching Christmas on TV.

She’s got beer… real beer. Me? Whiskey, also real.

We are sitting here laughing about how wonderful it feels to be sitting here between a Fake Tree and Fake Fire holding a Fake cat…

thank God for Real Whiskey, Real Beer and Real Smokes!

Norval Joe

The examiner scowled at the graduate student. “Peter. You claim you weren’t able to collect all the data for your master’s thesis?”
“Yes, sir,” Peter said, a perpetually baffled expression furrowed his brow. “I trapped twelve red squirrels and took blood samples from each. I tested each sample for the ‘grey squirrel pox virus’. I gave each squirrel a pencil and questionarre to fill out. Three ate their pencils, eight made a run for it and escaped, and only one completed the questionarre.”
“Will this affect my final grade?” Peter asked.
“No,” the examiner smiled sadly, “I don’t think so.”

Planet Z

Christmas behind barbed wire, restricted to our barracks.

Almost all of the prison camp guards are in the guardhouse, drinking and singing and exchanging presents.

Presents we made for them as they held guns to the back of our heads.

The two guards that are here, we approach and offer our own gifts.

They think it’s a trap and point their guns at us.

“No,” we say. “It’s Christmas. Enjoy.”

They put down their guns, unwrap the gifts, and we attack them as quietly as possible.

No alarms. Nobody at the wall.

Make a break for it, elves! We’re free!

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Forty-Three, 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 Inspiration!

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

[polldaddy poll=4270309]

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

Wow, one of my shows won the Emmy. I knew cross-genre fiction had become popular but
I never expected this. Thanks to my staff. Thank you Jonathon and Gary of Notes Form
Coode Street for whatever you said that inspired me to write Stargate CSI, StarShip CSI, and
CSI Mars Station. I also want to thank Frank Darabont for making some very talented writers
available to help me with three of this years Emmy nominated shows. Finally , thanks to Justin
Lowmaster and Lawrence Simon for getting me into drabbles since awards ceremonies now
limit acceptance speeches to 100 words long.

Dave

“Feeling inspired yet?” she asked with a smirk in her voice.
“That’s not really helping,” I groaned, wiping the last remnants of sleepy glue from my eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry ’bout that,” she purred. “Is there something I could do to help you get your creative juices flowing this morning?”
“Well, that is in your job description isn’t it?, I croaked semi-rhetorically, with a tinge of pathetic hope in my voice.
“Ok,” she replied. “Do you want to do this the hard way, or will you roll your lazy ass over?”
I sighed, opened my laptop, and began writing.

Helen

You inspired me with thousands of words written to make sure I never fell backwards.  You helped me fight the deepest sadness, and depression.  You grabbed me, stood me in front of a mirror, and said, “Look at yourself Helen, you cannot give-up or give in if you give-up then everyone else wins.”

Your heart flutters like butterfly wings.  You have faced far worse situations, far worse conditions, and far worse heartaches. You wrote the book on inspiration, look at the beggar on the corner with no home at all.

Breathe, endure, believe, smile, and love …

Tom

I want to be the first zombie president.

Inspiration I bring you

Be more that the sum of your dissociating parts

I seek your undefined attention

Yes we can

Yes can can can

If elected I promise a brain in every pot and

Pot in every brain.

If elected I promise a ban on shotguns

Spear guns flame throwers

Axes lawn shears

And crochet hooks.

If you are tired of that pack of fake zombie

Wannabes drolling on excessively about health care

Elect a real rotter.

God Bless the arm I’m crewing on

And God Bless the United States of America

Justin

Back in the seventies when Games Workshop was beginning, they had an office, and therefore couldn’t afford an apartment, so they lived in a van until they could afford both. They started distributing TSRs game Dungeons and Dragons and this really pushed Games Workshop forward. When TSR wanted to buy Games Workshop, or stop distributing through them, Games Workshop decided to hold their ground, and Warhammer was born. Amidst all this, they made the Fighting Fantasy books, a sort of role-playing adventure you played in a book. I want to make a choose your own adventure style interactive fiction game.

Steven

She kicks me out of bed, rumpled rolling tangle onto the cold floor.
I cover my face as the cheap pen and notepad arc over the edge of the
mattress.

My voice is a croak. “Now?”

She looks over the comforter. “Yes.”

I have fifteen hundred words when she leaves. She rotates among us.
“Write,” she commands. “Write.”

We write until our fingers bleed. We have to.

I was the first to discover she didn’t like alcohol. As I drank and
smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, she snorted at me.

“You and Hemingway,” she said. I ginned, free of the muse.

TJ

We had to call it the Inspiron processor because some other company had
already called their processor the Inspiration. What they’d actually
done is torn a transistor radio apart and stuck the various components
together with the innards of a calculator into a piece of green plastic.
It burst into flames after like five calculations but because their
uncle actually worked in the patent office or something, “the
Inspiration” predated ours by three days. We take consolation in the
fact that we know how to build computers, and certainly the gajillion
dollars our processor made helps to ease the pain.

Norval Joe

Ashton’s writer’s block was so persistent that the once prolific author hadn’t penned a single story in ten years. He even considered taking Viagra since it always helped when he lacked sufficient romantic inspiration.
Wallowing in self pity he watched old movies on Net Flicks, day and night until he came upon “Forest Gump”.
Ashton hit the streets in a brand new pair of running shoes. It worked for Forest, it could work for him. Just yards from his home he tripped on uneven ground and plowed into the dirt head first.
He stumbled back home to try the viagra.

Planet Z

If you toast my health, toast my bad health.

I am allergic to many things, and when I am not careful, welts and sores open up along my thighs.

To some, they would seem a burden, but to me they are an inspiration.

All of my paintings, poetry, music, and sculpture are a result of examining and exploring the revolting landscapes on my legs.

The only form of art that does not benefit from my malady is dance.

Instead of being inspired to dance, I do my best to stay as still as I can to avoid chafing and infection.