R. – Page 629 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Fuzzy Cheese

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Robert’s in his eighties, so you can’t blame him for having his share of “senior moments.”
The other day, he was carrying around a small wheel of moldy cheese, petting it and calling it “Mister Whiskers.”
Seems he was remembering an orange cat from his from his childhood, he forgot to put on his glasses, and the hairy hunk of Cheddar just got his broken imagination going again.
Still, it’s not as bad as when he tried to French the stove or hump the dishwasher.
We’d put him in a rest home, but we’re a little worried about the appliances.

Weekly Challenge #200 – “It’s gotta be better than” and “Road apples”

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred, 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… was…. um…
It’s “It’s gotta be better than” and “Road apples”!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

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

h3nix

Neezlebum sat along the bank of the river, his bamboo fishing pole extending out over the water. He was happily two hours away from work, wife, and what others passed as civilization. Peace and quite surrounded him and he was filled with an immense sensation that nothing could possibly go wrong today. Not even as he heard footsteps approaching.
“So how’s it going today?” asked a deep voice.
Neezlebum, not even bothering to eye the stranger, “Well, I woke up above ground. It’s gotta be better than the alternative, eh?”
“That’s a loada road apples, I think,” replied Death thoughtfully.

Zachmann

It was the day of the fair. The judge was tasting pies. He tasted the pumpkin pie and said “this is a very good pie but it is sweet potato not pumpkin.” He tasted the apple pies and said “this is made with Granny Smith apples.” then the Pair pies and he said “This pie made with Bosc Pairs is great.” “this rhubarb pie could use just a little more sugar” The judge said “I thought anythings gotta be better than my fathers cooking but this pie taste like Road Apples” “Yeah, I know but form what breed of horse?”

Stephen

“Hold this, Maude,” Howard said, handing her his logout button, arms
spread wide under pixelated clouds. “This virtual world is awesome!”
“Ew.” Maude looked at her shoe. “Howard, I stepped in sh-”
“A road apple, yes!” His eyes shone. “The detail is amazing! And we
can stay here until we want to leave.”
“No, Howard.”
“Baby, this is better than our old life. ”
Maude hit her logout button and left, taking his button with her.
“No,” Maude said to herself. “You just have to make real life better.”
She left VirtuaWorld, whistling and tossing both logout buttons in the trash.

Justin

When you’re a hungry man with no home, you eat what you can. Half rotten apples on the side of the road are better than nothing.
The skinny monster in front of me looks lost, wrong dimension. Considering it’s situation, I’m a half rotten apple.
I understand it’s hungry like me and I’m the nearest thing to eat, but apples don’t think and live like me.
I decide we both got a right to live and toss it my bag of apples. It sniffs them and swats them away. Refusing a gift ain’t right.
This apple is gunna fight back.

Anima

“Want to see how you got that grin ? Pull up GoobTube…. Here we go – skipping school, drinking a few brews. Now we’re down by the lake, with a suicase of Natty Ice. Thank goodness someone got smart and called their sober sister. Ha! Jerry suggested goofy pranks, like TPing Coaches’ house and stealing traffic cones. No way did I think you were drunk enough to juggle road apples… “
(voice from video) “Eww – Did you just take a bite? That has gotta be better than kissing cows… do it again – I missed the shot…”

The History Channel’s “Life After People” – where they speculate about a world after all people disappear – is doing a segment called “Dishes.” My mom tipped them off I let my dishes pile up when I’ve got a show going on, and yep, three months into my stage production of “Chicago,” my kitchen’s a disaster. Dishes to the ceiling, covered with bugs and the place smells like road apples. You’d think it would raise my profile but no. More people will see my damn’ plates on basic cable than will see me on stage. At least my mom got a T-shirt.

Norval Joe

George surveyed the fifteen members of his party as they strapped the snowshoes to their feet.
The groups leader said, “You can stay here and wait if you want, Mr. Donner. We’re going to cross the pass and get help. It’s gotta be better than sitting around here, eating boiled ox hide.”
“Go then,” Donner said, “you wont find so much as a road apple to eat, there’s probably fifteen feet of snow in that pass.”
As the group known as the Forlorn Hope left, Donner said to his wife, “Darn, I was hoping to have them around for dinner.”

Planet Z

The Wastelands Professor stood at the end of The Road, apple in one hand and knife in the other.
“It is two days’ journey from our orchard to The Obelisk and back,” he said.
The student recalled stories of mutants and wolves circling Oasis Settlement.
He chose the knife.
“It’s got to be better than the apple,” he said.
And began to walk.
The knife remained at his side.
It did not nourish him.
It did not give him healing compounds to combat radiation sickness.
The High Priest grumbled at the loss of another knife and called the blacksmith.

The Scrubber

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As I lay back in the tub and relax, I look up at the shower head and the lufah scrubber hanging from there.
My eyes are cloudy from the steam and the stress of the day washing off of me, so when I look at the sponge at the end of the stick, it looks like a cross between Mr. Peanut and one of the California Raisins.
I can’t tell if he’s smiling or frowning. He’s squinting, for certain, but his expression is really hard to read.
Who cares, right?
So, I reach for the stick and scrub my back.

Advertising

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I don’t like advertising in bathrooms.
So when I see ads in the mens bathroom, I take then down, go into the womens bathroom, and put the ads up there. Then I take down the womens ads and put them in the mens room.
Nothing quite like walking up to a urinal with a leg razor ad staring you in the face, right?
I’ve also noticed that toilet paper is much nicer in the womens bathrooms, so I take the rolls from there.
Do I put them in the mens room?
No. I just take them for myself.
I’m cheap.

The Overcoat

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For a century, Danny O’Bannon’s overcoat hung on a hook in O’Bannon’s Bar.
His great-grandson Timothy stared at it and then the contract on his desk.
Danny also liked to gamble, but Danny picked winners.
“Just sign it, Tim,” said the lawyers for the development company. “We’ll take care of the rest.”
Tim picked up the pen and wrote his name at the bottom of the contract.
When the lawyers left, Timothy put on the overcoat and looked for the old hurricane lantern.
One flick of the lighter, and the old bar was in flames.
And O’Bannon’s was no more.

The Voter

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The moron holds a ballot in his hand, looking down the list of names.
It doesn’t make a lick of difference. The moron does not know how to read.
He refuses to admit it, though. He’s too proud to admit it.
He also doesn’t watch the news on television. He likes to watch sports and movies.
As long as they don’t require much thinking, he’s fine. Never did like thinking much.
He steps into an open booth next to yours and begins to punch out his choices.
And in the end, his vote counts as much as yours.
Tragic, no?

The Day Ends

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Valentine’s Day comes once a year, and then it’s gone.
The flowers are dead, the chocolates are eaten, the champagne bottle is out in the recycling bin with the rest of the glass, and the card is buried behind the past few day’s stack of bills.
Still, it’s not as grisly a scene as when St. Patrick’s Day is over.
Half-empty kegs, beer-vomit and piss in the hallway, plastic cups on the lawn…
And then there’s the matter of the dead leprechaun.
I followed the rainbow, found his gold, stuck the little corpse in the pot, and buried it again.

Despise

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I despise you now, but one day, I will stop despising you.
You see, I plan on living forever, and once you meet your doom, there’s not much point in despising you, is there?
There will be so many new people, young and fresh, that will need despising and there’s no sense in wasting despise on the dead.
They’re, like, dead, you know? What’s the point in despising a dead person? It’s not like they can feel your despise.
I just wanted you to know.
Here’s your cheeseburger and fries.
Would you like some ketchup and salt for the fries?

Weekly Challenge #199 – Anything you want, Higgledy piggledy, Tree

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Nine, 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… was…. um…
It’s Anything you want, Higgledy piggledy, Tree!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

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

Zachmann

A beautiful Filipina woman wearing a Jessica Rabbit dress walked up to me where I was sitting on a bench near a tree in the park. She leaned forward. My mind went higgledy piggledy because of the very revealing dress. We started to talk. We had a chemistry. She said “I will do anything you want.” I took her home. Naturally since I was a man and she was a sexy woman, I told her how lucky I was to met her then I asked her to make Shanghai lumpia and watch the children so I could take a nap. zackmann (next topic music)

Norval Joe

The note said, “Meet me at the oak tree after school.”
Chad recognized the purple ink.
When the bell rang, he ran to the tree.
She handed him a red paper heart with lace trim. In silver glitter it said, “I’m higgledy piggledy over you, Valentine.”
He blushed furiously and hoped no one saw.
When she turned away he hid it in his book.
“Amy, wait,” he called and pulled a crumpled card from his back pocket. He pushed it into her hand and ran away.
It read, “Anything you want, Valentine, I’m it.”
Sixth grade is tough on boys.

Steven

I ran as fast as my stubbly little hooves would go. Gary said my
running was “higgledly-piggledly”, but Gary’s dead now.
My tree had fallen. It wasn’t strong enough. Stronger than Gary’s
straw hut, strong enough to give me a chance to run, but that was all.
Ralph stared wide-eyed at me through the window of his brick house.
“Let me in!”
A tear ran down Ralph’s cheek. He didn’t open the door.
The wolf’s breath was hot on my neck.
“Your choice, little piggy. I’ll eat you any way you want.”
I tried to choose something quick.

Justin

* “Brave Dwarf, you’ve helped the elves so much, and we owe you deeply. What gifts could we give you in return?”
“Well, now that my home as been destroyed, please build me a tree house to live in!”
* “Certainly Dwarf! We would be honored if you stayed with us.”
“I’d like haggis to eat at least once a week.”
* “Haggis? This is strange to us, but we will provide if we can. We owe our survival to you, after all.”
“Most of all, the thing I really want …”
* “Yes, Dwarf?”
“Stop calling me Dwarf, my name is Higgledy Piggledy!”

“Hey kids, great game!” Coach said. “Let’s all get ice cream!”
“Ice cream!” Gleeful shouts filled the air as the ice cream truck pulled up next to the ballpark in the shade of a tree.
“Order whatever you want!” Coach said as the kids ran higgledy-piggledy towards it.
The losing team watched the mass of joy headed to the truck.
“No ice cream for losers,” the visiting team’s Coach growled.
The kids piled into a half dozen cars and headed homeward, for a rather more bleak end of town, as the lowering sky unloaded a cloudburst of disappointment upon them.

JRadimus

There’s a town in the valley with a peculiar tree growing amidst the ruins of a church. Its origin is so unique the town’s name changed from Johnson’s Elbow to Big Preacher’s Oak.
Long ago, in another village, a precocious girl named Esther was given a Wishing Stone by a hermit. He told her, “This will grant your heart’s true desire. But,” he warned, “You mustn’t cast your wish higgledy-piggledy.”
Finally, Esther knew what she wanted: this travelling preacher’s daughter was tired of travelling. Pinching the stone, she whispered, “I wish Papa would put down roots here in Johnson’s Elbow…”

Planet Z

This was my first time Deep South, so when someone told me that the grocery store was called the Piggly Wiggly, I started cracking jokes.
“Does that make the hardware store the Higgedly Piggeldy?” I said.
They stripped me naked and tied me to a tree.
Then they set my car on fire and rolled it into the lake.
“Anything you want before we cut your throat, Yankee?” said a man in a white hood and robe.
“Yeah, flowers and dinner before you fuck me,” I said.
He smiled, pulled out some roses, and dropped his pants.

Roll Out The Barrel

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As the band played the Beer Barrel Polka, we rolled out the barrel and propped it up.
Something shifted inside. Something solid.
We opened it up and found a corpse.
According to the wallet in his jacket pocket, he was Jimmy “The Fish” Muldoon, a heavy with the Chicago Mafia.
“So, what do we do?” said the tuba player. “Any ideas, guys?”
“Hey, it’s the Beer Barrel Polka!” I shouted. “Let’s roll out the barrel of fun!”
We tapped another keg and partied hard with Jimmy.
The next morning, we all envied Jimmy, being too dead to be hung over.

Which were the best stories this week?
	h3nix
	Zachmann
	Stephen
	Justin
	Anima
	TJ Aman
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z

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