Author: R.

The Windup Cupcake

636203

She knew I was coming, so she baked me a cake.
She’s baking me a windup cupcake, my favorite kind of cupcake.
Watchmaker and confectionist, lover and friend.
It’s in the oven, baking.
Can you smell it?
It’s good.
If you listen closely, you can hear the ticking of the gears, counting down the time.
It’s its own timer, it’s own oven timer.
When it goes off, it’s ready.
And then, light the candle, and make a wish.
Know what my wish is?
That I just lick the frosting, and I don’t break my teeth on this lovely windup cupcake.

Weekly Challenge #89 – Nutcracker

12496946

Welcome to the eighty-ninth 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 Hedgie Till.
It’s Nutcracker
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #89?
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Tom from Footnote
Terry from The Old Coot Cast
Justin and his Random Thoughts
JD White
Yxes from Podmafia
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
Guy David the Night Guy
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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):

CALEB

Who called you a sissy? Let me tell you back when your grandfather was young, John Nutcracker Fuzzarelli ran this town. They called him Nutcracker because he loved Tchaikovsky. So much so that he used the protection money he made to build a theatre, the drug money to buy the best orchestra in the country, and the prostitution money started the greatest ballet troupe around. So just remember it was a love of classical music that made this town and if those bullies make fun of you again, use your flute case to break their fucking kneecaps that�ll teach em.

TOM

First position four position second position Plie Fouett� jet� Allegro Grand jet�. He soared across the stage gaining height in the face of the faltering god of gravity. He was nearing Nijinsky. He was besting Baryshnikov. Clara�s month dropped open. The Rat King spun around backwards. The Flowers, Russians and Chinese dancers just stood transfixed. Only Drosselmeyer smiled for it was he who had been supplying the steroids to the Nutcracker. The street brand was affectionately called Bull Ball Boost. Unfortunately the leap landed him on top to the 2 bassoon. Not player the instrument. Boy that was a nutcracker.

TERRY

Company Holiday Parties are so much fun.
As I stood, chatting, Cindy Lou entered the room.
She was tall, thin, and quite beautiful.
Her gown was excitingly different from the pant suits she normally wore.
The front of it was low cut and showed off her ample cleavage,
and her long legs seemed to go on forever under the short skirt.
I hurriedly made my way through the crowd to her.
Smiling, she raised her arms for a hug.
I seized my chance and embraced her, pressing her breasts firmly against my chest.
Just as swiftly, her knee shot up between my legs.
yeooowwww..
Cindy Lou was a real Nutcracker

JUSTIN

Most people think nutcrackers are harmless. Trust me, they aren�t.
One day while I was on vacation in New York I was walking through Little Italy and saw a guy called Violent Vinny get whacked. I was the only one around so they grabbed me and encouraged me to act like I saw nothing.
Apparently they weren�t convinced that I�d not talk and felt like they needed to give me a dose of what I�d face if I ever were to go to the cops.
That�s when they got out the nutcracker and left me with this high pitched voice.

JD

The sugar plum fairies froze as big Bill entered the bar.
It was the night before Christmas and everyone knew what the big man was like this time of year.
He had not received a gift in his whole miserable life.
He, without fail, sent letters to Santa.
Registered letters!
He had even once been nice for 364 days.
Big Bill was just the sort of man that was not ever, and I mean never, going to receive a visit from Santa.
The fairies looked down into their drinks as Big Bill strode the bar with the nutcracker held ready.

YXES

He looked like a soldier, standing up so tall and straight
Although he never smiled, he was always looking at some far distant target.
My favorite thing to do with him was to watch him yawn, a big, impossible opening of his mouth,
and then I’d wait to hear a very peculiar crunching sound, not unlike a fabricated cough.
Then, in all the staunch dignity that he could muster, he’d spit out the shell of a walnut, or pecan
or sometimes even an almond, leaving the meat for me and my siblings to snack on.
He was my favorite Nutcracker.

HOUSTON

The A-Team was trapped with only a few Frankie Goes to Hollywood
T-shirts and a large bag of walnuts.
Hannibal ordered Face and Murdoch to crack the walnuts so they could
create a nut based bomb.
They tried using Murdoch’s head, but that didn’t work so well.
Next, Face tried to use his teeth, but his caps kept popping off.
Finally B.A. stepped up. “Stop with all the jibber-jabber! Hand me
those walnuts!”
Placing the walnuts between his well defined gluteus muscles he began
to squeeze until the walnut gave way.
“I pity the fool that tells anyone about this!”

GUY

The nutcracker bird was sitting on a high brunch overlooking the kingdom. The king was standing bellow the apricot tree shouting orders. �Where is my nutcracker? I want to eat some nuts!� he shouted. The bird, hearing the king and wanting to shut him up, did the only thing it could do and dropped some crap on him. �Off with the bird’s head� shouted the king quite angrily, �and do it quick. I’ve got a Tchaikovsky concert to catch. They are playing The Nutcracker Suite.� The bird laughed a little birdie laugh and flew away, as birds would often do.

PLANET Z

I like going to see The Nutcracker every year, but this year I was busy, so I didn’t get to the ballet until after Christmas.
Wow, do those dancers phone it in once the holiday’s passed.
Clara barely acknowledges the gift, which were blow-up sex dolls, a prank by the propmaster.
The Sugar Plum Fairy was chainsmoking while limply dancing on a runny egg yolk of a moon.
The Russian dancers have long since defected, replaced with any homeless willing to dress up in Soviet Army Surplus for ten bucks and a sandwich.
Somewhere, Tchaikovsky is spinning in his grave.
Put a tutu on him, baby!

Up A Tree

636194

I was walking home one evening when I saw a kid sitting by a tree and crying.
I stopped and knelt by the kid.
“Why are you crying?” I asked him.
“My cat is caught up the tree,” he whined.
I started to climb the tree, but he yelled for me to come back down.
So I did.
“What is it, kid?” I asked.
He handed me a pair of very sharp tin snips.
“What are these for?” I said.
“To cut the cat loose from the bailing wire I used to tie him to the tree branch,” he said.

Cool Santa

684776

Caleb ponders the true meaning of Santa.

Every year at this time on December 26th Santa has to go back into the cryogenic freezing chamber till it�s time to thaw him out to deliver the presents again. He begs and pleads to be allowed just one more day of actual life instead of the perpetual cycle of work, suspended animation, work, etc. But we have to think of the little kiddies don�t we? Sure, it�s a kind of eternal torment for him but there�s a price to pay for everything. How did you think he stayed the same age all these years, vampirism? That�s the Easter Bunny!

Crawling

636180

Once, when I was having a weird day at work, I spent the whole day crawling.
I was crawling along the hall, meeting with people, making copies, and getting some filing done.
A lot of people asked if I was looking for something or if I needed help.
“No,” I said. “I just feel really weird today.”
Of course, I wasn’t just crawling on the floor. I mean, there’s lot of nice walls and ceilings to crawl on where I work.
As long as I don’t crawl on Janet from Accounting again, I don’t think it’s violating any policies, right?

Wrapping Paper

636186

When you’re done unwrapping your gifts, what do you do with the wrapping paper?
It’s going to end up as landfill, you know. Even if the paper was recycled, it’s going to end up in a landfill now.
All sorts of bright inks, shiny paper… it’s going to last a long time in those landfills.
I know someone who wraps their gifts in biodegradable newspaper. Another puts the gifts behind a closed door that gets opened to “unwrap” them.
But you giving me a blindfold and making me put it on, well, does this mean…
Wait?
Is that a gun?

First Christmas

636187

We were heading back to the office when we blew a temporal stabilizer and had to drop back into the time stream for repairs.
“It’ll take at least an hour,” said Murphy.
It’s been six.
While we’re waiting for the system to reboot, we broke out the emergency rations and had ourselves a Christmas Dinner right there on the prairie.
“I guess this is the first Christmas dinner,” said Jones.
“Yeah,” I said. “A million years before Christ was born.”
We toasted to our health with Tang, finished the meal, and bundled up the trash before checking on Murphy’s progress.

Dunstan The Unstable Existentialist

636179

As I sit by the fire, reading Sartre in my Kierkegaard Underoos, I ponder the meaning of life.
Then, I realize. Life exists, whether it has meaning or not. It is an end to itself, regardless if I am consciously observing it.
Anything else would be a lie, and we all know that the first person we lie to is ourselves.
Utterly absurd, this all is. There is no meaning to life except whatever meaning we impose upon it.
I, for one, shall believe I am a egg and cheese sandwich. I am part of a nutritious and complete breakfast.

Say It

636178

What is it?
I guess the best way to say something is just to say it.
The longer you think about it, the more likely you’ll try to come up with ways of saying something else, and then you eventually don’t say what you need to say at all.
And that’s not right.
The longer you take to tell someone something, you might forget some of it. Or you might feel rushed and it comes out wrong.
There’s no taking those things back. Especially things that need to get said.
What did I need to tell you?
Oh, never mind.

Weekly Challenge #88 – Christmas

11194330

Welcome to the eighty-eighth 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 Santa Claus.
It’s Christmas
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #88?
Zack from MothPod and Shameless Plugcast
Terry from Old Cootcast
Guy David from Guy David dot com
JD
Yxes from PodMafia
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Tom from Footnote
Santa Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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):

ZACK DAGGY

The Holiday is here to celebrate Christ our Lord.
The one day a year that I am not ignored.
Gone are the cold streets, cold nights, and cold gazes.
Replaced by warm seats, warm lights, and warm faces.
The shelter is aglow in the radiance of this fuss.
For the night that I’m here, I’m home for Christmas.
Sleep now comes as it has in the past.
The sad fact about moments is they that never last.
The night begins to fade and so with it the memory.
As I return to the streets to be lost in the reverie.

TERRY

Let it Snow!
I stared at the snowman, tiny black dots for eyes, what looked like a carrot for a nose. A shabby hat on his head and old scarf around his neck. He was surrounded by a blanket of a snowy substance and he had tree branches for limbs.
With a quick wave of my hand it began to snow, a snow that was heavy at first, but slowly dissipated to nothing. Once more I waved my hand and the snow began again, only to dissipate slowly. A lovely site, simply lovely.
I quickly covered the globe in tissue, carefully making sure the glass ball was secure and protected, then lowered it into the box and wrapped it in Christmas paper.
On the card I wrote; from your secret Santa, let it snow.

GUY

There was a suspicious red stain on the snow. Santa was face down on the ground. �Who murdered Santa�? asked the voice of the grey man in the blue suit. The rain deer quickly hid his paws and tried to look sheepish. �I don’t know� he said. �Well, someone must have done it since this sort of things don’t happen by mistake. This universe is just too darn organized for this sort of shit to happen by mistake� said the greyhound. �Say what?� asked the rain deer, holding his paw to his ear. �Caught you red handed� said the constable.

YXES

He loved Christmas! Seeing her wrapped in that big red bow, he knew why he loved opening up presents. As he reached up to untie the bow, he heard her giggle, then he heard her sigh. His eyes got as big as saucers as he watched the bow slowly drop to the ground. Now she stood there with just her Santa hat, and a sprig of mistletoe. Smiling, he moved the mistletoe to rest on her belly, and bent down to give her the best “under the mistletoe kiss” she had ever had. Merry Christmas to all, and good night!

JD

The old man in the Santa costume sat at the end of the bar.
The slow gin was doing its work,
so that even now his memories were little more than a blur.
If he could drink enough he would not feel guilty
until tomorrow when he again became sober.
Out on the street an empty kettle swung from a tripod,
while the first flakes of new snow fell from a black sky.
This Christmas a small child went to sleep hungry and then awoke
to an empty stocking hung at the end of the bed.
Life is not fair.

CALEB

Self inflicted gunshot fatalities always peak around Christmas time. Some think it�s Seasonal Affective Disorder, some think that inability to live up to the idealized Madison avenue version of Christmas leads to terminal depression. But the real reason is that the elves have too much free time.
Their goal is to finish toy production by the end of November in case there are delays. When there are no delays they have most of December off. They grab Santa�s naughty list to find the ones who don�t believe and exact their yuletide vengeance. �Ho ho ho, mother fucker!�
Elves are assholes.

LAIEANNA

“This meeting is to discuss disbanding the Elf Exchange Program.
Injury and dismemberment rates have risen significantly in the human
world.”
“Your accusations are an insult! Where’s the proof?”
“Here’s documented cases of injury, including eyes lost, for improper
use of the bow and arrow.”
“Simpletons!”
“Girls have rashes from the nature jewelry.”
“Absurd!”
“They’re made of poison ivy! And a huge number of defective toys are
leaving this shop, damaged by troublesome fairies that accompany you
Wood Elves.”
“Your lies will bring upon a war of the Elves!”
“Try it, Windtree. We have the fat man on our side.”

TOM

In the 7th grade I became fascinated with photographer. I talked my mother into letting me setup a darkroom in the back bathroom. As Christmas approached I made a list of possible stuff that a 13 year old needed. On Christmas day to my horror I found under the tree 30 feet of pine 1x12s tied up with a bow. How was I going to explain this to my friends at church that morning? They gave their condolences. For 40 years those shelves were used for a 1000 different purposes. When my mom moved to Arizona she took the shelves with.

SANTA Z

The elves, man, it was the elves.
They were just too expensive.
So, I got rid of all of them and went with some outfit based in China.
Then I farmed out the communications and support work to a call center in India.
Delivery went to UPS. Fedex and Airborne just couldn’t compete.
I filed for an IPO, make billions on it.
Reindeer? Hell no. Lear jet.
Venison sausage, man. Good stuff.
Then that shit with the Chinese toys happened.
By then, I was long gone. I was on Aruba, living it up.
Natalee Holloway?
Never heard of her. Honest.