Author: R.

Birds and the Bees

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For parents who are uncomfortable teaching their kids about… well, you know… the church has tapes teaching in-home sex education.
Well, DVDs these days, but you get my drift. Just sit Little Susie in front of the monitor, hit “Play” and walk away.
The problem is, the pastor’s been known to download… well, unusual movies from the Internet – just for research.
But still, he’s been known to burn the wrong video to a disk.
Right now, Little Susie’s watching “Caged Bitches In Bondage.”
Boy, is she going to have questions. And she’s going to be really popular in high school.

The Final Book

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The line was curled around the block twice.
People were waiting in line for the book… the last book of the series they’ve been reading over the years.
Anybody who wasn’t in line, well, they’d barricaded themselves in their homes until they could get their own books… or borrow one from someone who had read through their early copy quickly.
They didn’t want any spoilers. They, just as much as the people in line, wanted the experience to be fresh.
What separated the two groups was a willingness to wait in long lines.
Who’s right? Who are the wiser ones?

Amazing Mice

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I was working on an animal behavior experiment, running mice through a maze, when I got a phone call.
So, I turned on the television and left the lab for a minute.
Okay, so it was five hours.
When I got back, I realized that I’d left the television tuned to a Christian gospel station.
I turned off the television, but it was too late.
Tiny voices, coming from the maze, started to sing:
“Amazing Mice, how squeak the sound,
That saved a hunk of cheese….
It once was lost but now is found,
Was hungry, but now, they eat.”

Ballet

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I walk out to the patio and sit in my chair by the fence.
The sun’s gone down, and the lights come on.
They are the footlights of a stage, the part of the fence that the umbrella hangs over, but the performer hasn’t been seen for a long time.
Her name’s been taken down from the marquee. The marquee remains blank – no act could follow her.
I close my eyes and remember how she danced, how she sang.
Bravissimo, I whisper, and I pull a kitty treat out of the foil pouch, placing it gently on the fencetop.
Bravissimo.

Two Robes

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If you did the same job since the beginning of time, you’d get bored, right?
That’s why The Grim Reaper and The Ferryman on The River Styx trade jobs once a year.
Ferryman reaps and the Reaper ferries souls.
So there I was, walking to work, and this figure in a black robe whacks me with a boat oar.
“Ouch!” I yell.
“Shit,” he growls. “Hold still.”
And he whacks me again.
Next thing I know, I’m standing on the shore of a river.
“Hello?” I yell.
Paddling a boat with a scythe has got to be a royal bitch.

Carnival of the Cats #173 – Dusty

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Once upon a time there was a magical castle.
The magical castle was full of dust. The dishes, the knights, their armor, the paintings and tapestries were dusty.
Even the king.
“Go out and fetch me a solution to all this dust!” yelled King Dusty.
So they searched for a solution, and they found a fluffy orange cat.
And the cat fuffed up his fluffy tail and he ran around, and his tail dusted everything, and even the king.
“Hooray!” yelled everybody.
And then they all sneezed because they were allergic to the fluffy orange cat, who left hair everywhere.

Weekly Challenge #65 – Tofu Pants

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Welcome to the sixty-fifth Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by Caleb Bullen from the Black Tie Martini Club: Tofu Pants.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #65?
Tom from Footnote
Syril Ram
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Terrence from Never Was
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Guy David at Guy David dot com
Daphne from Going Broke
Chris from Chris Carlisle.net
Alpha K-Nine
The Deranged Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

TOM

It was the Patchouli. It does things to the mind. Her name was River nose ring henna copy of Gibran on the redwood burl India bedspreads hanging from the ceiling clouds of sandalwood and a Krishna poster in the john. Ever try to take a leak with a blue god smile at you? Chanted a lot Om mahneypod me om. Was writing this book called the Sensual Vegan. Which is how I ended up in downtown Santa Cruz in a pair of tofus pants. As god is my witness your Honor I can explain the Calamari underwear and sushi garterbelt

SYRIL

We went to the discount erotic clothing shop in search of edible panties. A dollar was too expensive, so we bought 2 pairs of tofu pants for a quarter. They were half off. Damn rats!
We pulled them on and salivated. Wanting to touch and press up against each other. With her hairy, dirty crotch visible before my eyes, I hungered for that strange taste. Wanting to stick my tongue inside, like raw fish. Delicious, tempting, and satisfying.
Were it not for the shivering cold in the bleakest of winters, I would have eaten my first meal in four months.

CALEB

Tofu Pants always has to have a cause. He’s one of these, “impeach the whales, no nukes for Tibet, Save George Bush” bleeding heart liberals. For the last five or six years, he’s been annoying us all about global warming, peak oil, corruption in the white house and yeah, he turned out to be right about most of it but he’s SO annoying I hate him.
What’s worse? Now that basically the whole country agrees with his wacky Tofu Pants bullshit, he’s switched sides to be a Pro-War, Pro-Business Neo-Con. Rumor is… He’s getting the Democratic Nomination. Stupid Tofu Pants!

TERRENCE

Raoul hated fashion, but he had little choice but to keep up with at
least the basics. Given his life span, forever, he would have been
looking out of date a long time ago and that would just draw attention
he did not want.
So every couple of years he would go out to the local trendy shops.
He would talk to the sales people and he would select some new cloths.
He had survived through togas, powdered wigs and bell bottoms, but
this was the worst yet; who in their right mind would wear a pair of
tofu pants?

LAIEANNA

“Hiruko, you no good samurai. Have no honor. You bring sorrow to our women! Children fear honor of their name never be restored. You disgrace our clan! For this you shall wear the tofu pants of shame, walk village street, and bare the bites of dishonor.”
“The tofu pants of shame.”
“Yeah, make him wear the pants.”
“You bring shame on our house.”
“My cow die cause of you.”
“I take bite to get back honor.”
“You shame our village. No more show face in city.”
“Your disgrace make wife barren.”
“I get butt hair with bite.”
“That’s good tofu!”

GUY

We make edible clothings. We have strawberry t-shirts, pineapple shoes and chocolate hats. We have many lines of edible clothing, fit for any occasion.
Mind you, we don’t make those depraved sexually related under clothings. We are a good establishment and we renounce any such thing.
We do tend to our costumers health. That’s why we came up with our new health line of tofu clothings. Our new model of tofu pants is very popular amongst the young, and once you gnaw it down, you never want to have anything related to that deplorable sexual activity thing ever again.

DAPHNE

I had enough I was going to take my revenge. I read about Voodoo Dolls and started to melt wax to mold one. I ran out before it looked like him. It had to resemble the intended target so I rummaged around the kitchen to find something to finish the legs. Once it looked like him I started placing pins. The next day I saw him at the coffee shop, he looked fine but what I noticed was his pants. They looked like they were made from wasabi paste. That had to have itched. I just smiled that was a better choice than the tofu.

CHRIS

As the top fashion designer and cook in all of France, it was only natural that I would eventually combine these two talents. After many long hours in the kitchen and studio, my latest work is both a culinary and fashion masterpiece.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my latest creation: Tofu Pants! You can eat them, or you can wear them! I am le genius, no?
Although I don’t recommend you eat them after you wear them.
But ladies rest assured that whether you eat them or wear them, these tofu pants will not make your ass look fat.

ALPHA K NINE

I hated the deceased. I didn’t hate him when I killed
him. I didn’t hate him when he invaded my home. I
didn’t hate him for the color of his skin or the fact
that he threatened my life. I learned to hate him
later.
I learned to hate him after I was accused of murder.
I learned to hate him after he was dead.
He made me a killer. I am not now, nor have I ever
been, a murderer. I am a killer, though, now and
forever. He made me take a life, and doing so,
destroyed mine.

Z

When I was little my mother made me wear snow pants in the winter.
They were just leggings I wore over my jeans when the snowdrifts were high. But they were great for sliding down huge piles of snow that snowplows would push into sidewalks and driveways.
These days, whenever I go into the tofu processing tanks, I pull on my tofu pants and wade into the vast white piles.
There’s always a headcount of technicians going in and out of the tanks. Don’t want to lose anybody.
I mean, think of the scandal – meat in a batch of tofu!

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Podcast Ready is holding a contest for referrals and signups using their very cool podcatching software.
I’ve been using that software for well over a year, and I absolutely love it. I just pop Ziggy’s chip into my system, let it sync up, and then put the chip back in the phone… no more hassles with downloading podcasts manually.
Want to see me win? Just sign up for PodcastReady using the promotional code CRAP to sign up, or edit your profile to use the promotional code CRAP.
To edit your profile:

  1. Go to PodcastReady
  2. Sign in with your username and password
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  5. Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

iPhone

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Whenever I feel like I’m falling for the hype of a new electronic device, I look in the cardboard box I keep in the closet.
That’s where I’ve put all the electronic gizmos and gadgets I bought as a result of falling for their hype, ending up with a piece of junk.
So when I look at the iPhone, I think to myself: How soon will it join the other expensive doohickeys in the box.
Then, I read a full-color advertisement for the thing.
There’s a commercial on the television for it, too.
Temptation builds – oh, give me strength, Lord.

Goodnight

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When it was time for me to go to bed, my mother would read to me from the book “Goodnight Moon.”
Even though she read it every night, it was a thrill to hear every word.
When I learned to read, I read along.
One night, when I said “Goodnight Moon,” the moon replied: “Good night.”
“Did you hear that, Mom?” I asked.
“Hear what?” she said.
“The moon was talking to me,” I said. “It said… Goodnight.”
She closed the book, patted me on the head, and left me there in the dark.
Alone.
With the wicked, sinister moon.

Cut Off At The Knees

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Before the accident, I used to swim in the ocean.
Now, I look down, and where I once had knees, I see only ragged stumps.
The doctors say they’ll clean those up a little more for me.
“Where are they?” I asked.
“Gone,” say the doctors.
“What have you done with them?” I asked.
“We have taken them,” say the doctors. “But we will bring you the ashes if you want to be buried with them someday.”
Instead, I will spread them over the ocean.
No sense in making them wait for the rest of me.
Let them be free.