The Trojans

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The plan is brilliant.
We are French, after all.
We shipped the statue in pieces for assembly in the harbor.
The torso of the statue was large enough to hold 500 soldiers. Our weapons are in the torch.
Vive la France, New Paris!
In the middle of the night, we are to crawl out the door and begin the invasion.
“Where’s the door?” I, the commander, asks.
We tapped out a message of surrender to a confused workcrew on the outside.
Ransom is such a dirty word. The diplomats will smooth it over with a gift of wine and cheese.

Forty Acres

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My name be Rufus Washington Cleveland and I be 173 years old today.
What’s this here place called? Time Square?
Well, I calls it mine.
I been waitin over a century for my forty acres and a mule, and I’m takin these here forty acres.
Lincoln himself promised em to me. Said “You get forty acres and a mule, Rufus.”
When I axed him which forty I get, he just said “Just go take ’em.”
Gonna be a shame to tear these here buildins down, but this here is mah land, and I wanna get to plantin in the spring.

Butterflies

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What am I eating?
Butterflies.
Ever eaten butterflies? No?
Oh, they’re delicious.
I can’t decide if they taste better dipped in chocolate or hot sauce.
How do I cook them?
I don’t. I eat them raw.
Their wings melt with any kind of heat.
That’s okay – lots of things taste better raw, like peapods and carrots.
Okay, so they taste like crunchy fluff, but they hold the chocolate pretty well.
And hot sauce, too.
Hold it by the legs and stick the wings in the dip, then pop it in your mouth.
How did it taste? Delicious?
Told ya so.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln #96

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All but one of the doctors packed up and left.
“He can still be saved,” said the last doctor.
“He’s dead,” said Robert. “There’s no way to cure death.”
“Is there?” asked the doctor.
He opened his case and pulled out an array of odd crystals, setting them around the dead president.
Who remained dead.
“Sorry,” said the doctor. He gathered up his crystals and left.
Robert shrugged. “Dad always said: ‘The only person who is a worse liar than a faith healer is his patient.'”
“Fine by me,” said Mary Todd. “As long as we don’t pay his bill.”

Weekly Challenge #138 – A Flashing Red Light

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Eight 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 A Flashing Red Light.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #138?
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Mike P.
Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
Brad Z from http://mutecow.net
Byz from http://eatonbennett.blogspot.com/
Ashley
Almo
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Norval Joe from http://www.novalsoutlook.blogspot.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

There. Mari put a last wrap of electrical tape on the splice and flipped on the main breaker.
Jeff was the perfect prince on their first date, bringing her flowers and complimenting her haircut. Their second date was also good, but it went downhill after that. First it was going Dutch to the basketball game; now, Jeff was your typical boy leech.
Last week, he said he wanted to date others.
What a relief! thought Mari.
Could she make sure no one else would be fooled by Jeff’s charms?
The flashing red light on his porch should be warning enough…

Tom

The flashing red lights reflected off the splitter windshield. He hit the speed dial to Tom. The persistent answered machine pulsed out on income call screened till later. Tom’s attention was drawn to the flash red light on the coffeemaker. “Where the Hell was Jim?” he opening the door to catch a glimpse of red trail lights. Rain pounded down on the porch, but Gloria’s jet rose above the storm. A strobing red light barely visible to both Jim and Tom trail off into the north. Her thoughts were of them, but the flash red oxygen light drove them off.

Mike P

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Andy sat in the dark, eyes fixed on the answering machine by the door. The flashing red light ticked away, like a hospital monitor counting down to the death of his heart.
One new message. One new message. One new message.
Andy knew what it would say. Harriet had also sent an email, a registered letter, and a singing telegram. Every time the message was the same.
“Got the job, moving to Portland. It was fun while it lasted.”
As long as he didn’t listen to the message, Andy could pretend it hadn’t happened.
Beep. Beep. Beep.

Guy David

My son rejoiced in his new computer screen. That was exactly what he wanted for his 12th birthday. Maple Story never looked better on his screen. He continued with his game play, face intent with concentration, commenting on his intricate game strategies from time to time. I listened, savoring his young wisdom. Much later, when I finally convinced him to shut down his computer and go to sleep, I noticed the power button was flashing a small red light, and I knew my son would surf the virtual worlds of tomorrow, where he would spend the rest of his life.

Caleb

There’s a flashing red light
That blinks through the night
Illuminating my whole house
Is it a neon sign?
Have I lost my mind
An overturned laser jet mouse?
Maybe it’s a cyborg
A wants me to die borg
Assassinated by some robotic louse
Maybe it’s a fairy
All crinkly and hairy
And wearing a gossamer blouse
There’s a flashing red light
That blinks through the night
Illuminating my whole head
Maybe it’s the end
I’ve gone round the bend
It’s a light to tell me that I’m dead
Hey Shakespeare! Wake up! You passed out on your blackberry again!

Brad Z

As I neared the village destruction upon the lands increased. The villagers had contacted me to save them but it appears that I arrived to late. Ruins filled what was once a peaceful community. In the distance, behind the village, stood the black mountain, home of the black sorcerer and his evil hordes. A mighty howl came from the pair of hellhounds galloping at my side followed by the roar of the giant tiger that ran with them. Battle would begin soon.
The flashing red lights filled my vision as I rolled over.
“Crap, the power went off last night.”

Byz

Christmas was too close! Loneliness, the only prospect on the horizon,
made the confines of his room all the more unbearable.
How long had it been since he’d slept without dreaming, getting lost in
nightmares as old as himself?
His companion, a flashing red light outside his bedroom
window, blinked solidly through the night. Never deserting him for
someone more handsome or with more money. Not like Charlene had.
He wondered how she was. Maybe she was still living and the other guy
hadn’t got sick of her and bumped her off. Maybe she’d gotten lucky even
if he hadn’t.

Ashley

The Perp said, “I’m innocent.”
“Sure,” replied Officer Jenkins. “You flashed ladies wearing only a red blinking light over your crotch yelling eat me I’m wholesome?”
“Not flashed, blinked. I wore a light.”
“Let’s just say the arrest was in the spirit of the law, okay.”
Later at the cell, Jenkins announced, “be sure to show them why you’re here.” Several of the occupants turned, obviously interested.
“You really aren’t going to leave me here, are you?” asked the Perp.
“Absolutely not,” said Jenkins closing the door and heading towards the stairs, “and to all a good night.”

Almo

The ’72 Impala left a plume of dust as it came over the hill toward home. It was an incredible panorama. If you weren’t from there. If you didn’t grow up wishing you could see Wal-Mart instead of sagebrush.
The town was one intersection. Big enough for a post office, a barking dog, a closed restaurant and his house.
He enjoyed telling people where he was from.
“Nowhere,” he’d say. “Nowhere, Colorado.”
That was the best part.
He stopped at the intersection. There was a traffic signal.
“A flashing red light?” he thought. “Progress.”
He couldn’t see another car.

Justin

The console lit up; a blinking red light. God knew it was coming, it was inevitable. While free will was better, it was messy. The tree stood in the middle of Eden, Adam and Eve forbidden to eat of it. They did, though. It was time to go down and see them. Things were about to change forever. At least He had known it was coming. His other idea was to put a red button that would blow up the planet. Unlike the forbidden fruit, a red button would have been pressed far sooner with no tempter required at all.

Jeff Hite

“Hey, what is that?”
“What’s what?”
“That flashy thing over there?”
“You you mean the flashing red light?”
“Yeah that’s the one.”
“Oh that’s usually really bad?”
“Bad? What do you mean bad?”
“Yeah it usually means the engine is about to flame out and we are going to start falling like a stone.”
“Oh yeah? So what does it mean now?”
“Hmm let me see. Oh yeah, that the engine is about to flame out and that we are going to start falling like a stone.”
“Oh ok.”
“Engine flame out… loss of forward momentum…prepare for crash landing.”
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Norval Joe

Higgs Boson aimed his galactic cruiser at the cosmic microwave background.
His new blink-drive harnessed the power of nuclear fusion to slip him through the fabric of the space-time continuum.
The reactor thrummed with energy and the ship disappeared. Like a rock skipped across a pond it winked in and out of existence along the programmed trajectory.
Eventually, the energy dissipated enough for the ship to wink in and coast at sub light speed, while the engine primed for its next ignition.
As he began the ignition sequence, a flashing red light warned, his mission was coming to an end.

Planet Z

I am the Clerk of the Court, as my father was and his fathers before him.
I tend the Justice Machine, the final thread holding civilization together, surviving the Apocalypse left to us from our disagreeable ancestors.
The defendant, the witnesses, and the sheriff give their testimony before the altar.
I then push the button, and we watch the light.
Will it turn green or remain red?
I know the answer. It will be red.
It is always red. It will always be red.
There is no Justice in the world.
There never has been. And there never will be.

Quote

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They say the devil can quote scripture.
Of course he can. He wrote it. Every word of it.
Branded on the backs of the sinners with red hot pokers.
Skin torn from flesh, pressed into sheets, bound between brimstone covers, still dripping with their blood.
He was there at the Council of Nicea, making changes to his rough draft, whispering in old priests ears and making deals.
I’ll make you a saint.
I’ll make you a hero.
I’ll make you a prophet.
I’ll make you a god among men.
Every hotel room is his church, his word in the drawer.

Free Trial

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The letter said I qualified for a 7 day free trial. But it didn’t say what it was for.
I figured what the hell, right, and I called the 800 number.
I heard it ring twice and then a click.
No answer. No voice.
The line went dead.
The next thing I knew, I was in Paris.
It was a week later, and there was a receipt in my hand.
“REFUNDED IN FULL”
I had no idea what had happened to me or how I got there.
There were no other receipts, no clues.
I found a cafe and drank.

McKinney

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McKinney. Leader of the pack.
I grew up watching him on late night specials, learning his voice, his gestures, his jokes.
The unknotted bowtie hangs around my neck just like his.
Martini glass in hand, one olive on a glass spear.
I do his routine at retirement homes, people old enough to remember, too old to put up with the new stuff out there.
Keep it familiar.
McKinney’s fame was wider than I’d thought.
Broadcasts, deep in space.
That audience came for him.
They found me.
Now I’m touring the galaxy. Rich as hell.
But no olives to be found.

You Breathed

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Why did you do it? What put you over the edge?
You were so happy when I saw you yesterday. So full of the joy of life.
What made you pull the trigger. Twice.
What horror filled your mind with despair and hopelessness What could possibly drag you down so deep?
Twice. Did you pull the trigger?
Or did someone else do it?
They shot you twice and put the gun in your hand.
Then, as they waited to call for help, you breathed.
“I heard the shot. I found him there. I found him dead.”
But you still breathed.

My Spot

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There are five booths in Bill’s Diner.
This is my spot.
Second to last booth, seat facing the door.
Nobody takes my spot. If someone does, Bill tells them to sit somewhere else.
If they don’t move, he puts their coffee down at the counter.
Even the mailman knows this is my spot. He doesn’t even bother to deliver my mail to my apartment or my office.
He puts it down at my spot.
Same with the paperboy.
Bill asked if I wanted like a metal plaque or something to mark my spot
There’s no point, really.
Everybody already knows.