Fresh Thursday

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What do you mean you’re having a bad Thursday?
Thursdays don’t spoil.
I pick my Thursdays fresh from the vine and gently place them in the basket.
So ripe and delicious they are, I can hardly believe they’re gone by Friday.
I wake up, rub the Thursday from my eyes.
Oh, why can’t every day be a fresh Thursday, picked from the vine?
Mondays… Wednesdays… not for me.
This man in the alley offered me Thursday pills. Ground up from dried Thursdays.
No. Fresh Thursdays or nothing! I deserve the best!
Today, my friend, I take a long, slow bite!

The Labels

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Something strange happened last night.
All of the labels on the cans in the pantry vanished.
I don’t know how or why. It just happened.
Now, I have no idea what’s in these cans.
Well, okay, maybe the tomato paste is easy to identify. They’re small and thin.
Soup cans are all the same. I never buy soup that I don’t like, so I can just grab any can shaped like that.
The rest are canned fruit. I should eat more of that.
Every can I will open will be a new mystery solved.
This is going to be fun.

Shoelaces

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Damn. I broke a shoelace.
So let’s go out to the woods and look for a replacement.
They drop from the tree branches and slither on the ground, looking for a spot to burrow a hole.
You catch a few, check their sizes and colors, and then hope to find just the right one.
Grab each end and pull tightly to snap their spines.
That’s how a shoelaces go all soft and limp.
Nobody wants a living, writhing shoelace in their shoe.
Don’t try to keep one as a pet. They just sit there in the bottle and wither away.

The Birds

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The trees are filled with so many birds.
Black as the night, silent and watching.
They only move their heads to follow us.
I’ve never seen them fly.
For as long as I have watched them, not a single one has left or arrived.
Just turning their heads without a sound.
I haven’t seen any other kinds of birds around since they arrived.
I haven’t heard any, either.
Where have they all gone?
Where did these birds come from?
Nobody knows.
We watch them in shifts now, and nobody’s seen any changes.
Just staring at us.
And we stare back.

Weekends

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When I was young, time crawled.
Now that I’m older, and the schoolweek is now the workweek, things feel a whole lot faster.
And it’s a good thing that the workweek goes by so fast. So much crap I just want to just get through.
It’s the weekends that matter to me. I live for the moment I can walk out that door and I’m free until Monday morning.
The problem is, if the week goes by fast, then the weekends go by even faster.
Sadly, Friday to Monday is a lot shorter than Monday to Friday.
When’s retirement again?

Weekly Challenge #154 – Howl at the moon, I demand a recount, The fencing master, Matzo tower, The end is near.

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty 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… was…. um…
It’s Howl at the moon, I demand a recount, The fencing master, Matzo tower, The end is near..
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
Mike P from http://mjpaxton.com
Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
Michael S
Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com
Guy David from http://guydavid.com
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


Anima

“I demand a recount,” howled the fencing master to the moon-faced giant. Two men sit amidst sundry dismembered body parts; The Turk cradles the wounded Spaniard, the Dread Pirate Roberts.
“Si, Fezzik, recuentame the gory details…”
“Of how you spilled Selkirk’s entrails?”
“And the queen, she is still in power?”
“Safely hidden in the Matzo Tower.”
“Fezzik, you’ve a way with the rhymes.”
“Then pay me in ducats and not with dimes….”
“It’s ok Inigo. I will take you to Miracle Max.
I will carry you, just relax”
“Bah Fezzik! Set me down! Your end is near my face.”

Caleb

All the fencing master’s fences are torn down in her dreams. As she drifts through azure clouds of twilight the matzo tower howls at the moon.
She dives headfirst from the stars into a warm pink ocean that smells of mushroom soup and swims deeper and deeper into the night’s milky center.
A kamikaze swarm of calendar page paper airplanes swoops up from the world of the rising sun and they strafe her with appointments and torpedo her with meetings.
And when she feels the end is near she screams, “I demand a recount” and wakes up back in Kansas.

Jeffrey

“So Brad, what do you want to do tonight?”
“Well I was thinking that we would head into town and, whoa, um I think the end is near.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well there are ten people over there howling at the moon.”
“Ten, really? I demand a recount.”
“Alright, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. So I exaggerated you are right, there are only seven”
“See nothing to worry about, you always do that, you worry too much. now if there were a fencing master, or if we were near a Matzo tower, then I’d be worried.”

Justin

Listen to those wolves howl at the moon Snail Eater, they must be, oh, what’s this? Wasn’t there a sword in this stone? There is a hole for one. I had best put my spare sword in there in case anyone needs it. There is that Arthur kid. Abra-cadabra invisible on!
“I need a sword for tomorrow, hey, a stone with an emergency sword in it!”
He took the sword. I’m all out of spares. I wonder who took the previous one? I should remember tomorrow, but I had too much to drink after the joust! Something historic happened tomorrow.

Where did I put Snail eater? I had him in my pocket. How do you lose a purple snake.
What’s that commotion at the joust?
“I pulled this sword from that stone yesterday!”
“Not possible, I pulled this sword from it last night. Look, there is Merlin, he’ll know!”
Hmm, what? Oh, the sword. What is your name, man?
“Quillwyvern.”
And your’s young man?
“Pendragon.”
Which was it, I can’t remember?
What was that, you’re mumbling?
Oh, sorry. Pendragon is the king!
“What? But I took the sword from ow, something bit me!”
Oh, there you are, come back here!

“Merlin, aren’t you going to teach me to fight with this sword?”
Hmm, what? Oh, sorry, I’m still trying to find my pet.
“But,”
Oh, fine. I remember you convincing me, so lets get to it. Swing at me.
“Where is your sword?”
Oh, yes, that might have ended badly. Here we go, swing!
A good defense is to deflect a sword down to the ground, then stomp it, breaking it!
“Great, you broke my sword.”
Oh, yes, terribly sorry. Ah, take this coupon to the lake. I have a friend there who makes good swords.
“Watery Tart Sword Cleaning?”

Hello Lancelot!
“What are you making?”
A matzo tower! You see I’m using this strawberry jam to hold the crackers together.
“Interesting, is it for the masquerade?”
Yes, would you like to try, oh, hello Guinevere!
“Hello Merlin, Lancelot. What is this amazing tower?”
“Merlin is making a cracker tower for the masquerade!”
“Oh, may we try some?”
Certainly!
“Here you go, m’lady.”
“Thanks!”
“This is delicious Merlin, wouldn’t you say, Guinevere?”
“Yes, I would, but, we should go.”
“Yes, m’lady!”
Hmm, why were they looking each other like that? Now, more jam. Hey, this isn’t strawberry, it’s love preserves!

The lines of battle were drawn, truce only held in place by this; so long as no one pulled a blade from its sheath, uneasy soldiers would stay their hands from shedding blood. Hot breath puffed into the air as wary soldiers eyed those they might soon kill or be felled by.
One such knight stood gazing across the field of battle, a whisper of motion at his feet. A purple snake slithered towards his brother in arms beside him. He drew his sword and struck the snake down. Both armies charged. The end of Arthur’s reign was at hand.

Mike P

Though Matzo Tower was almost four miles away, the spire’s oppressive
presence hushed the small party’s conversation. Montoya, the fencing
master, crouched by the fire. “What do the sticks tell you?” he
asked.
The fortune teller gazed at the twigs she had scattered. “A warrior
will howl at the moon. Find the hand that lies in the shadow of the
light. In the eye of the husband of the eye of the cow. The end is
near. Mists of dreams drip along the nascent echo and love no more.
End of line.”
Montoya frowned thoughtfully. “Can I demand a recount?”

Lynda

When I was young the local fencing master paid my family twenty dollars to take me off their hands, shutting me away in a tower made of matzo to keep me pure. It had no shower.
On an expedition to procure a rare foil, the crazy bastard was bitten by a werewolf who had taken a fancy to me. Ten years without a shower has its consequences.
So you see, that’s why I’m eating my way out of this place. They’ll be arguing over who scored more hits until the moon goes dark, I’ve had it with both of them.

Michael S

“Ron, every time one of these women let me feel their breast while I’m dancing with them I’ll lean back and howl at the moon.”
“All right Gary start with Jim’s girlfriend. Give him a high five when you pass him. He’s on his way over here now.”
“Hey Ron, what’s up?”
“I’m just watching Gary dancing with your woman.”
“Yeah, Gary is such a moron. Look at him over there with his head laid back howling like a dog. The lady’s won’t put up with that.”
“Now look at him Ron. He’s over there trying to dance with your wife.”

Norval Joe

“Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!”
He couldn’t help it; He read the book three times and watched the movie countless more; each time he stepped forward to face an opponent, the thought came to mind, and he smiled.
He saluted his opponent. At the word ‘fence’ he advanced three quick leaps to stop, unable to attack.
A shy freshman at the Junior College, he took beginning fencing to meet girls, but could never bring himself to poke them in the breasts.
Defeated, he smiled, and moved the foil to his right hand.

Tom

Arnesto Cervantes, the fencing master, backed the mayor of New Barcelona up the matzo staircase, up the matzo tower. The duel was a result of a Edloe Island election. “I demand a recount.” yelled the Mayor. A thrust on top the matzo sent Cervantes reeling backwards. The Mayor’s blade glowed in the moonlight set to send Cevantes to his maker. A howl at the moon broke the still a gargoyle swooped in and lay teeth to the Mayor’s ass. The winged angel of death drove the mayor inches above Arnesto’s head. “The end was near.” Mused Mayor by default Cervantes.

Guy David

Howl at the moon
The moon is rising. I’m tired. Haven’t slept for days. If I go to sleep, the howling starts inside my head, an inhuman howl, like that of an animal. I’m scared. I’m scared because I know… I know the animal of my dreams is coming after me. He’s coming to get me, devour me. What – you don’t believe me? Take a look. Yes. Take a look into my eyes. You see it? You see it spreading like a disease? Wait until you go to sleep, then your animal would come out… the howling would begin… then you’ll see… believe me.
***
I demand a recount
The edge of the city. I stand here hesitating, not sure if I should go forwards or stay. I go, not looking back. I count my steps as I walk, remembering how the clouds came. I’ve seen it on the net. It was all over YouTube, cities falling, crumbling to dust until nothing was left. One by one, websites disappeared. Our connection to the outside world… I’m not sure there’s anything left, but I’m going to find out. I’m counting my steps. One, two, three, or is it four? I think I missed a few steps. I demand a recount.
***
The fencing master
I live by the sword. I crush my opponents like mosquitos, like bugs. I despise them. All of them. They have no class, no elegance. Look at them, clumsily trying to attack. I dance around them. I’m an artist. They are merely amateurs. There is this new guy. Here he comes. Can’t wait to show him the tip of my sword. Up close. Here we go. What’s that? How could he get away with that? I don’t believe it. That’s not fair. You cheated. I know you cheated. I’m going to prove it. You’ll be sorry. I demand a rematch.
***
Matzo tower
“What have you done to my tower?” asked the midget butler with the cigar in a horrified shriek. The robot, built from the remains of his sister Cee looked at him and smiled, showing two line of white teeth. The robot seemed to be missing one of her teeth. “What, don’t you like it?” she asked. “No, I don’t. It’s too mechanical. Please put it back the way you found it.” The mechanical Cee just smiled and said “Sorry, but we are all out of matzo.” With that, she pushed the midget butler back into oblivion, where he came from.
***
The end is near
Both kids stared at the last of the chicken wings. They knew the minute one of them raises his eyes, it’s the end of that chicken, so they continued staring at it with the intensity of laser beams gnawing a hole through a Klingon vessel. This continued for what seemed like hours, though it was probably more like five minutes. “Mike, Stuart,” the voice of their mother called all of a sudden. They lifted their eyes just for a second, but that was enough. When their eyes where back on the plate, the chicken wing was gone. Their father belched.

Planet Z

The condescending prick fencing master patted me on the back.
If he says “for a werewolf” I will tear his throat out.
I am tired of his patronizing tone.
Sure enough, he starts with “For a werewolf, fought well” and my claws
slash through his neck.
My parents locked me in this tower to keep the monster at bay, but they
gave me fencing and riding lessons in an attempt to civilize me.
I resist the urge to howl in victory. Instead, I count the coins from his
purse.
I count them again. Just enough to get me to Vienna.

Helpful

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All our company’s technical support is moving to India.
It’s not because they are cheap workers.
It’s because they really like to help others.
Boatloads of them show up at our ports, asking if they can help with anything.
We send them back, and they offer to help with that, too.
“We’ll call you if we need any help,” we say.
They waited for the call, but we never did.
So, they started to help themselves.
These days, they’re the ones turning back boatloads of our people.
“We offered to help,” they say. “But we think you’re beyond help now.”

Training

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Instead of getting laid off, we’re being repurposed.
Today’s training session is for turning us into plants.
The trainer goes from seat to seat, jabbing us in the foot with a nutrient spike and then tipping a watering can over our heads.
One guy is being prepared for lawn duty, so they’re dowsing him with a hose outside.
Unlucky bastard.
I don’t like getting hosed down on a regular basis, but it’s a good promotion from what they had me doing before.
You can only take so much shit heaped on you, even if you’re supposed to be a mushroom.

The Talking Kid

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We love our kid.
How can we not? He’s our kid.
One disappointment with him, though. Our boy didn’t start talking until he was four.
But when he started, he just couldn’t shut up.
He talks all the time.
During meals.
In the bath.
In the preschool.
And even in his sleep.
Some of it makes sense, but the vast majority of what comes from his mouth is nonsensical babble.
So, we give him gum to chew. When he chews gum, he can’t talk.
He blows bubbles now. Popping all the time.
But it’s not as annoying as the babble.

Count To Ten

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She tied me to a chair and broke each of my fingers, one by one.
As she did it, she looked me in the eyes, and her smile got wider and wider with every finger she broke.
She held my hand, my left thumb slipped between her lips and she sucked on it slowly.
“Don’t!” I said.
I felt her teeth against my skin.
“This is going to hurt,” she said. And with my thumb in her teeth, she broke it clean.
Tomorrow, she will sign my casts and leave.
And she’ll wait for the day they come off again.