Welcome to the Fifty-sixth 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 Planet Z: Baseball.
Seven stories were submitted this week. Oops!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from the one we all knew and loved as Planet Z.
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):
WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s a packet containing at least 1 refrigerator magnet and a CD with the archive of the entire 100 word stories podcast. (Well, minus promos and junk)
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!
MIKE
Thank you, Mike. I really enjoy your podcast.
Baseballs a game of computational skill.
You must calculate the acceleration of a small
spherical mass as it decelerates in a parabolic
trajectory through space time.
This task is further encumbered as the
mass is often spinning in a quantum state
not unlike a black hole. If one can successfully
determine the gravitational pull of the small spherical
mass, the earth, and the multiple other bodies in
direct interaction, you may generate a
sudden, and violent, equal and opposite force against the
small spherical mass .
With enough force, you may achieve, a single Newtonian orbit, around the
central mound.
DAPHNE
By the third date she was looking for the fatal flaw. They all had them. Some were simple and easy to overlook like leaving the toilet seat up. Others were not so simple like infidelity. She’s seen it all and knew it would be there. But he seemed perfect, so she was sure it would be small. When she got into his car to leave for the restaurant, she saw it. There in the back window prominently displayed: a baseball cap.
“So, you’re a Yankees Fan?”
This would be their last date. Some things a Red Sox fan cannot overlook.
TAMARA
Okay, here’s my story, it’s just called “Baseball.”
Ira was sickly, Manny was thick and sluggish. The two best friends hated gym class more than anything. For three weeks, they were forced to play soccer. No matter how hot it was, Mr. Fosse made them run around the field doing dribbling drills. Neither boy was very coordinated, so they spent 40 minutes chasing soccer balls that got away from them. To avoid sweating, they moved slowly; they would rather deal with Mr. Fosse’s whistle than with the other boys in the showers. If they could only have gotten into a sport that better suited their reluctance to move — baseball.
If I win, I’d like the next challenge topic to be “inconvenience.”
CALEB
You can do this, you can do this. Just relax. Relax and think about baseball, isn’t that what they all said? Can’t go off too soon but you can’t take too long either. You just have to think about baseball and… Whoops!
It’s okay, get back in there. There you go. You can do this. You just need to be cool. Relax and think about baseball. There you go… You’re ready… You just need to think about baseball… Damn!
Alright, one more try. A nice easy rhythm back and forth, there you go. just think about…
Strike Three! You’re Out!
TOM
He was 300 and likely live 300 more.
Liannana youngest of his progeny
asked that ever-constant question,
“G Pa why do we run?”
(great great great great great great great grand pa)
The old man sighed
“The priests of baseball want us dead.”
They had been killing his tribe
for the last third of a millennium.
They had killed him five or six time
even blow him up in Plexiglas box.
Didn’t work
just fueled their faith
in the vengeful God of Baseball.
He cursed that angelic voice that said,
“Go for the ball.”
He cursed the jihad of the Cubs.
But most of all he cursed being Bartman.
ELISSON
Brett Pivnick was a wee bit peeved, to put it mildly.
He had been called up from the minors in early summer, and his first two months as right fielder for the Astros had gone well.
Better than well. He had been leading the league in RBI’s until last week. That’s when things began to go wrong. Horribly wrong.
Of course it was the drugs. It had to be the drugs. What else could have caused his ass to swell to three times its normal size?
The team medic agreed. “Son, it looks like somebody handed you a Bum Steroid.”
LAIEANNA
“More exciting,” the audience demanded, so we delivered. First a flaming ball was hit, and the batter sprinted, working his way past six hundred pounds of wrestlers to first base. If the outfielders were still working their way through the field labyrinth, he could take another run to second base through beanbag shots. A good player would keep up his momentum to third plate, dodging spikes that randomly sprung from the ground. If all clear, he’d then jump the bottomless pit to home base. Truly a popular sport now. Oddly enough though, we always have employment openings in our organization.
SCHLOMO “SEVENTEEN FINGERS” PLANETZSTEINBERG
People credit Jackie Robinson for breaking baseball’s color barrier in 1947, but truth be told, that barrier was broken long before then. Twice. In the same day.
Rufus Jefferson and Cleon Washington not only broke it in 1927 with the Washington Senators, but they also broke the “two midgets posing as a single person barrier.”
Rufus and Cleon were close friends, quite often giving each other horsey-back rides.
One day, they ran the bases at Ebbets Field.
And the manager of the Senators was somewhat of a nearsighted imbecile.
No, they never played.
Couldn’t get the pants to fit.
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.