The Lighter

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Down in the dungeon, the witch stirs up a boiling cauldron full of jokes
“We stir to keep the lighter jokes from floating to the top and staying there,” says Hildegard the Wicked. “Only when the jokes are finished do we skim them from the top.”
I’ve asked her what she puts in the pot to make the jokes, but she never reveals her secret.
“You don’t want to know,” she says. “Just drink the potions I give you and be happy with it.”
Sure, I’ll drink it, but I won’t be happy with it.
Funny, yes. But not happy.

Poetry and Coffee

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She asks me which I would rather have: good poetry and bad coffee, or bad poetry and good coffee.
“Why not good poetry and good coffee?” I ask. “Can’t you do both?”
It turns out, not only is she the waitress but she’s also a poet. “I don’t have time for both,” she says. “I can either concentrate on the coffee or write really good poetry.”
“Coffee,” I say.
“But this coffee will last only an hour or so,” she says. “My poetry will last for generations, long after I’m dead.”
I shrug. “I guess they won’t tip you either.”

Under Observation

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We watch everything you do.
We listen to everything you say.
We read everything you write.
We know everywhere you go.
And after all this time, we’ve come to the simple conclusion that you’re the most boring person on Earth.
You don’t do anything interesting at all. We haven’t filed a single report on you in all the time you’ve been under observation.
You’re an easy assignment. Boring, but easy.
So we’re just going to ignore the fact that you’re dead and just keep filing the same reports over and over.
You won’t mind.
Because you’re dead.
That’s… our secret.

Weekly Challenge #180 – Wings

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty, 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 Wings!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Steven
Guy
Cary
Lynda
Josh
Terry
Norval Joe
Anima
TJ
Justin
JRadimus
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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


Steven

“We don’t have penguins,” she IM’d. Her avatar’s tail twitched.
He panned his cam over the alife chickens and turtles covering their
parcel. The virtual eggs filled his inventory.
“The people next to us have penguins,” she continued. “And scripted
flexiwings.”
He rezzed his own wings. “I got these from Yadni’s…”
“I don’t want some freebie crap,” she said, and logged off.
He made his wings stretch and flap. They’d been free,
but with full permissions. With them, he could do anything.
The neighbors watched the wings carry him over their chickens,
turtles, and penguins, heading east, never to return.

Guy David

Dragon soup is our specialty. Trolls and Orcs love them. They come all the way from Orgrimmar to sample out cuisine. I can tell you, some good fights are fought over the seasoning of dragon wings. Our place is a lively establishment. Not a dull moment. You should come around, try our bat wings. You are going to love it. Those wings are spicy. Just take the Darkriver road to the northern tower. You can’t miss it. While you’re at it, could you bring me some vampire blood on the way? It would be great for our Night Elf Gumbo.

Cary

“Hey”
“Hey”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
“I was wondering what those things on your side are.”
“What things? Oh! Not really sure, never noticed them before.”
“Well they look kind of cool. What do they do?”
“Hmmm. Good question. Not really sure, but they are snazzy, aren’t they.”
“Yea. Where do I get some, you reckon?”
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Seems like down. Well it was nice talking to you. If you find out where I can get a pair of those at, let me know,” as he disappears into a puff of dust.

Lynda

Red Bulls are so good, I drank a hundred of them and I didn’t get wings, but I cleaned my gutters and I didn’t even need a ladder to get to the roof, I just jumped! Then I helped change a tire by totally ripping off the tire, and then I threw the tire, and the tire flew all the way across town to the dump and killed a hobo, but I don’t feel bad about that–I can’t feel anything but pure unadulterated caffeine rushing through my veins, busting up my brain and I think I’m having a heartattack!

Josh

The day i tried to fly, was the day i met God.
“Poor creature,” he said, “did I not give thee sense to know thou art not a winged bird?”
i stared into indescribable eyes and saw everything – comprehending nothing.
“My child, did I not give thee legs to carry thyself across solid earth?”
i marveled at bottomless robes, praying to see what was beyond.
“I am Creator of the Universe, Life, Knowledge. Yet thou art compelled, dissatisfied by what I know not. What could exist that I would not bestow unto thee?
“Lord,” i said “…curiosity.”

Terry

Orville climbed the hill looking for his brother, Wilbur, after leaving their Buffalo bicycle shop.
He was rather excited to see the new wing design they had been perfecting for the past six months.
Today was going to be the grand introduction and they had invited all of their friends and neighbors.
Seeing Wilbur standing in front of a large crown of people, he headed toward him.
As he walked up to Wilbur he asked, “Are the wings ready?”
“Just about” answered Wilbur, “All that’s left is to toss them in the hot sauce and put them in a bowl”

Norval Joe

Steel cables ran side by side, up the eastern slope of Half Dome; poles maintained them at waist level. Jeff stood at the bottom, paralized by fear, and peered up. The other boys were out of site, probably already on top.
They had hiked through the night to watch the sunrise from the top.
“If I had wings, I could fly up there,” he said to the ground.
He grasped the cable with both sweaty hands, placed shaking feet against the granite and began to climb.
As the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, Jeff’s shadow stretched across the summit.

Anima

Eduardo sat in the garden enjoying the last of the September sun. Spring in Rio was simply wonderful! The flowers were starting to bloom – the orchids and the amaryllis, the begonias and hibiscus, the color riot of red and orange and purple were almost too much for the senses.
Silently, a butterfly landed on his knee. Eduardo was able to transfer it to his forefinger, where the spindly insect clung tenaciously. It slowly opened and closed its powder-worn and tattered wings.
“Where do you come from, beautiful thing? Far away, no?”
Meanwhile, in Houston, a tornado was brewing.

TJ

Elmer Popplewood was mesmerized. For the first time, there in the dark, watching “Up,” he saw so clearly what those upgrades to his furnace and the oversized windmill installations to his Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired cantilevered roof extensions had been leading to all along. He’d been creating a flying house!
Some extensive termite activity later he connected the treadmill to the decorative rooftop rotors, and he hit the oil painting of a big red button in his living room that said “LAUNCH!”
At first, nothing happened.
Oh, of course.
He added the liquid hydrogen to the furnace.
And … he flew!

Justin

Gahamut and Raul, demon and angel, fought on a plateau. Viciously struck, Raul fell off the edge. He did not yet have wings.
Robert looked into his Arby’s bag and realized no one had asked if he wanted sauce. Exiting, he glanced at the ‘good service’ bell, leaving it unrung.
Raul’s shoulder blades tingled, but then nothing.
Rick almost rang, but an alert employee said hello first.
The ground grinned at Raul.
Jeremy looked at the annoying alarm. It would ring any second, if he could just…
Wings burst from Raul’s back, his fingertips slid across dirt, then he soared.

JRadimus

The pain was indescribably excruciating. She passed out at least four times during the first seven-hour session, but lost count after that. By the end, she thought she was going to die, but she didn’t. This wasn’t Tabitha’s first tattoo by any stretch, but it was her first enchanted tattoo, and thus, her most complex, expensive and painful, one by far. After thirteen tortuous sessions, it was done. Full-sized angel wings sprawled across her back. And when the moonlight kissed the ink, all the pain was forgotten as she flexed her feathery new outgrowths and took flight.

Planet Z

Welcome to Three Buckets Icehouse.
There’s only one thing on the menu: Bucket of beer and a bucket of wings.
I know, that’s only two buckets.
We used to give out a third bucket for throwing up in, but we eventually figured out what was wrong with the wing recipe that was making everyone sick after a couple of em.
Now, by the time you feel sick, you’re either on your last beer or last wing.
“Where’s the third bucket?” you ask.
The bartender’s pointin’ to the bucket that has TIPS written on it.
Don’t throw up in it.

The Itch

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Two more days.
They warned me not to scratch it.
“If that poison touches the air, it’ll change,” said the nurse. “Your body can fight it on its own if it’s inside, but if you scratch it, you’ll get worse.”
They can’t give me anything for the pain.
“It’ll react with the poison, too,” said the nurse. “Nasty stuff.”
My hands are tied to the bed rails. I’ve dislocated my shoulder again in the past hour.
“MAKE IT STOP!” I scream.
The door is closed, the walls are padded.
The nurse smiles. “Be good, or we’ll inject you with more.”

Under

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This morning, I found a tarp on my lawn.
I want to peek under it, but who knows what’s under it.
Tarps cover things you don’t want to look at.
I can’t tell what’s under there by the bulge in the tarp.
And every time I look, I swear it’s changed shape.
Maybe someone will take it if I just go back to my routine.
So, I drag out the trash cans and check the mailbox.
Everybody’s mailbox is empty.
“Maybe the mailman is under that tarp?” my neighbor asks.
We sit around and wait.
Nobody looks. We just wait.

The Thief

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The thief breaks into your house and steals your dreams while you sleep.
He puts them in a burlap sack and tiptoes through the night.
The fence looks through the sack of dreams.
“Second-rate pipedreams here,” he says.
He always says they’re second-rate to get the price down.
“This one’s shattered,” he says, pointing out the pieces in the bottom of the sack.
They agree on fifty bucks.
The thief doesn’t know what the fence does with the dreams. He’s heard of some guy named Sandman.
The thief doesn’t care. He just steals and sells them.
And dreams of retiring.

Falling

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I miss falling leaves.
I used to make a cup of tea and watch the leaves fall from the trees at sunset.
From her days as a kitten to old age, the cat would pounce them the moment they hit the ground.
Here in the space station, everything’s falling together.
No leaves.
No trees.
No cats.
No cups or spoons for tea. Just a plastic bag and straw.
I close my eyes and try to remember the leaves. Sunsets. Tea.
I can’t.
The videos you send aren’t the same, either.
Eight months to go on this mission.
And then… falling.

Green Beans

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Momma always said you ain’t lonely when you got green beans.
So, I got these here green beans. I hugged on them, and they snapped all so happy.
They now my friends.
Course, I also hungry, so maybe I put some here butter and salt on em.
They sure do mighty delicious. I could just eat one and…
Oh, one more… okay?
Wait… I’ll be right back…
Oh no. I done ate them all. My friends.
I got me an idea… I’ll just go to the bathroom and wait.
When I see them again, I’m gonna hug them so tight!

Billybob Steak

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It was the biggest steak Paul had seen in his life.
“Eat all of the Billybob Big Steak, and you get it for free,” said the waiter.
“Really?”
“Really.”
So, Paul picked up his fork and knife and went to work.
He didn’t think he could do it, but after an hour there was one bite of steak left.
He put it on his fork, stuck it in his mouth, and swallowed.
“I win!” he said, and the piece of steak caught in his throat.
As hard as the waiter tried, Paul still choked to death.
Billybob catered the funeral.