Author: R.

Welcome to the forty-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 Chris from Platypus Society, and it’s Spring.
Sixteen stories were submitted this week.
Two rookies are in the mix… yay!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
And, once again, some disturbing madness from 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):

Who had the best story for the 49th Weekly Challenge?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Chris of Platypus Society
	Guy David of The Sixteenth
	James Q.
	Tom from Footnote
	Manata from Squirrel Bait
	Caroline from Quadra Island
	K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
	Sister Mary Edith
	Laieanna from Hodge Podge Point
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Tabitha from Strangely Literal
	Terrence from Never Was
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	To4m from Stuffcast
	Patti from SmittyGal
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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!

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The full text of each story:
CALEB

In the middle of spring
In the middle of spring
You’re liable to see the most wonderous things
As we celebrate life
Much like husband and wife
With only one thought cutting through like a knife
For in spring you will see
And quite gloriously
How life replicates itself sexually
From the flowers on plants
To the spring high school dance
It’s like the whole world has to take off its pants
And say, “I can’t wait
Any longer to mate!”
And then once it’s done, “I’ve got to go, geez! It’s so late. I mean you were great but…”

CHRIS

On the first day of spring, Patrick loaded his video equipment into his station wagon and headed south towards the everglades. As he did every year, the trip was scheduled to begin at the peak of the mating season, but he hadn’t counted on a warm February.
For weeks, he watched the thermometer outside his office window and read reports from the university scientists about the possibility of an early season. Not exactly what he wanted to hear.
Nevertheless, he still had to try.
After all, the market for alligator porn may be small, but it pays very, very well.

GUY DAVID

Rodney got the package on Wednesday night. He popped it open immediately. The contents of his package looked brand new. It glowed slightly. He just had to use it. He couldn’t wait any longer. He opened the wrapping, slid the batteries into place and used it until smoke came out of his ass.
From that moment on he used it at least once a day, sometimes even twice. He used it again and again until one day, a spring inside it got loose. From that moment, it was as if the android was using him, instead of him, using the android.

JAMES Q

Spring was final through with Winter. His passion spent, he knew that he had a very unpleasant chore to complete.
Panting, he gazed at her still, lifeless form and pondered how to get rid of the half frozen body. Again.
“Every year I go though this!” he cried, “But no more.”
Spring pulled out his cell phone and called Summer.
“Dude…” Spring hated the way Summer always answered the phone. “I know why you’re calling.”
“Ya gotta help me!” Spring was begging and he hated that too.
Summer hung up the phone and looked over at Fall.
“Oh Baby.”

TOM

It was always the first flower.
The tiny yellow ones.
No larger than a fly’s wing.
Even those he welcomed.
The buzzing offset the
too quietness of winter.
The growth was slow, noticeable,
tiny patches of color.
This was unlike the cancer
which grew colorless before his eyes.
Unlike the spring that slowly built upon life,
IT slowly ate upon his life.
Rudy’s yearly struggle to make it to
the arrival of the first yellow flowers of spring
amazed his doctors.
He mused how infinite days
had become finite.
In Gray’s Anatomy coloring book
he filled the prostrate
with yellow.

MANATA

It’s Spring again…you know what that means.
That’s right; it’s time to move all of your clocks forward by one hour.
I think it actually happens at two in the morning, but most folks do it before they go to bed the night before.
You see, I live in Indiana and this is our first year on Daylight Savings Time.
I’m convinced it’s why everyone thinks we are all stupid farmers and bumbling idiots.
Most of us can’t even get the television to stop flashing twelve.
“Hey Ma! You seen that there instruction book for the talking picture box?”

CAROLINE

“Spring is sprung the grass is riss
I wonder where the birdies is
The bird is on the wing
But that’s absurd
The wing is on the bird”
Over and over Mary repeated as she walked home from school. At the recital the next day she couldn’t get this wrong, not with everything else, it would be just too awful.
With heart fluttering and nerves shattered she began. It did not go well. Of course the whole class laughed at her again. She was mortified.
“Recitations- and Confidence” was the name of her first book. Who had the last laugh!

K NINE

I love the spring.
The golden sun, the green buds, the new grass. It
always reminds me of my first time.
I remember it clearly… We slipped off into the woods
alone together, the smell of fresh flowers in her
hair.
I was entranced by the way her skirt rippled around
her knees like lapping waves. Her hazel eyes so big
and round. Her lovely pink lips quivering and parting
as she started to scream. The crimson flow of warm
blood from her newly slit throat. There have been
many since, but she was the best.
I love the spring.

SISTER MARY EDITH

Few people know the agony of sprouting from seed. The stirrings of spring muster great forces: tender green shoots cleave cakes of soil and battle through labyrinths of rock, trying to break the surface before it breaks them.
An elderly elm recounted its experience, still painfully vivid after over 120 years. As it strained through utter darkness, it met and slid past another sprout going exactly the opposite way. If that sprout hadn’t carved a path, the elm may have never made it to the surface. With horror and gratitude, it recalls the sprout burrowing desperately down into the dark.

LAIEANNA

A battle of wills continued between two opponents.
“I’m going to kill you,” Spat the boy.
The Jack in the box responded with a squeak of it’s spring.
“Stop mocking me!” The boy shook an angry fist.
Jack kept weaving like a drunk.
“The outrages I have suffered today will not be soon forgotten.” The
boy scuttled up to the box and pointed a finger. “Mark my words, when
you least expect it, your upends will come.” He suddenly stepped back
with a devilish smile. “Time to bad.” From midair came an axe and he
ferociously attacked. “Victory is mine!”

ELISSON

The crocuses and daffodils send up their tender shoots;
The heavy snows are melting. No more need for rubber boots;
Our diets undergo a shift toward greens, away from roots.
The Sun hangs in the western sky until it’s very late;
The birds and bees go seeking for their Reproductive Mate;
The Jews all eat their Matzoth, guaranteed to constipate.
Our allergies are active as the pollen coats the land;
Expectant tourists venture on the beach to test the sand;
While eating Meaty Off’rings from the local Hot Dog Stand.
All hail the Vernal Equinox! O, Spring has come again!

TABITHA

Spring is the season for vampires.
While most think of vampires in the gloomy days of fall the reality is they really like Spring. To a vampire, that sound of spring is the heart in love.
Angel, of course, couldn’t feed off of humans. Thanks to a gypsy curse his soul wouldn’t let him.
Didn’t mean the temptation was gone.
Today was no exception. Cordelia, his office worker, was crushing on the latest Brad Pitt wannabe. When Doyle returned he found Angel brooding more than usua and Cordelia gone. “What’s up?” Doyle asked.
Angel simply burped.

TERRENCE

Raoul looked around the room. Most of the guests had left long ago.
His options were slim so he decided to see what the old man in the
corner was doing. He would hop forward then set back and hop forward
again.
The old man jumped again as Raoul reached him, almost tripped over his
beard. “What are you trying to do?
“Everything is all mixed up. They moved the date, it’s not spring.”
The old man jumped again.
Raoul shook his head and push the man and he fell.
“Oh hell, this is just going to make things worse.”

TED

We’re live at the local diner, reporting on the first days of Spring. I see over there is a lovely yellow chick, wandering from table to table.
In the booth next to me sits a very cute couple. I believe it might just be Mr and MRS Easter Bunny! Let’s lean in closer and see if we can hear what they’re saying.
“Remember, same as before. You’re crowd control, I handle the employees.”
“I love you Pumpkin..”
“I love you Honey Bunny..”
“Everybody be cool! This is a robbery!”
“Any one of you fuckin’ pricks move and I’ll execute every one of you motherfuckers! Got that?….”

TOM

Robbie was a happy spring in his youth. The other little springs
thought he was a weenie. He never could boing like the others, As he
got older he found false fame in his faceless website. No one could
see what a chump he was across the internet. In his quest to
achieve notoriety he entered contests in what they called blogs. In
fact he was such a loser he had to get people who were his “fans” to
vote for him in order to win. The loser took the fun away from
everyone else and became a awannabe sproinger.

PATTI

On their third anniversary, Joseph gave Audra a grandfather clock that played Westminster chimes.
On their fifth anniversary, Audra gave Joseph a son.
On their ninth anniversary, Joseph gave Audra herpes.
Audra gave Joseph divorce papers.
On what would have been their fourteenth anniversary, Audra finally did what she had wanted to do for five years: she took a hammer to that clock and started swinging.
She noticed the spring half buried in the rubble. She picked it up, blew it off, and began to uncoil the delicate metal spiral until it was nothing more than a thin flat line.

PLANET Z

Yes, the legends are true. If you drink the cool, refreshing waters from the magical spring daily, you will live forever.
But what the legends don’t tell you is that you’ll have the most wretched flatulence.
We’re talking farts that can peel wallpaper.
It’s something in that spring’s life-preserving chemicals. I’ve tried learning Chemistry, but in all my years I haven’t figured it out.
Everybody always says they can handle it, but after a few years, they can’t take it any more and go back where they came from.
Fools.
I know the secret to eternal life: nose-plugs.

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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.

Welcome to the forty-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 Chris from Platypus Society, and it’s Sandwiches.
Eleven stories were submitted this week.
A rookie team joined in… yes!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from 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):

Who was the shizzle in Weekly Challenge #48?
	Chris of Platypus Society
	Tina and Mark
	Tom of Footnote
	Caleb of Black Tie Martini Club
	Terrence of Never Was
	Laieanna of Hodge Podge Point
	Tabitha of Strangely Literal
	KNine of Dead Dog Walkin
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Ted of Ted’s Podcast
	Patti of Smittygal
	To4m of To4m’s Podcast
	Manata of Squirrel Bait
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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!

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The full text of each story:
O’CHRIS

Lucky sat down, a pint of Guinness in one hand, a corned beef sandwich in the other. He kicked his feet up and sighed.
“Another long day,” he said. “Those kids, always after me Lucky Charms.”
He had just put the pint to his lips when the front door kicked open.
A dirty, half-naked man entered, eyes crazy with rage!
He threw Lucky down and started kicking him.
“TWENTY SEVEN YEARS! I FINALLY GOT YOU!”
The man grabbed the coveted box of cereal.
“Cereal’s shit,” the man said, dumping the box on Lucky’s bloodied face. “But I’ll take the sandwich.”

O’MARK and O’TINA

Running late to the game, Dad moved franticly about the kitchen, preparing water-bottles, snacks and the like (all while eating lunch AND holding the baby). Suddenly a stray bit of food went down the wrong pipe. His eyes watered. Clutching the child, he dropped the snacks and clawed at the paper-towel roll, letting out a great sneeze. Convulsing, he raised a handful of towels to his nose and sneezed again.
And then total silence…
Relieved he cleared the tears from his eyes and looked down at the baby. She was covered in little moist wholewheat bits of sandwich.

CALEB O’BULLEN

As the 4th Earl of Sandwich pondered his creation, he smiled. For he knew that despite a lifetime of public service as Secretary of State and Postmaster General this one act, oft-repeated, would carry his name throughout the ages.
Of course he had had help. He couldn’t have done it at all without his lovely Irish cook, Molly or his good friend Robert.
As he helped Molly refasten her dress and Robert snored on the divan where he had finished, the Earl thought to himself, “I wonder if something like this could be done with bread and meat as well?”

MacTERRENCE LEAN

Raoul had not been to a wedding in long time, he just was not the type that you invited. He was shocked when the invitation arrived from his cousin. The ceremony was traditional, but he was fairly sure that in most weddings, when they talked about being in the presence of God, they didn’t mean literally; but there he was, sitting in the second row; on the opposite side from Raoul and his brothers. Thing were going well, until dinner was served. You would think that with the almighty on the invite list they would serve something other than sandwiches.

ERIN GO LAIEANNA

Ralph slathered mayo onto the hoagie, then sprinkled it with shredded lettuce. Tomato slices were placed end to end and from three large jars he gathered ham, turkey, and chicken slices, draping them onto his creation. Swiss and provolone were overlapped onto the meat. Last he topped the sandwich with a secret ingredient. He closed his masterpiece then sliced it into serving sizes for the waiter to pass around the bar.
The manager inspected one closely, “What’s this?”
“It’s called Luck of the Irish Club. The meats were marinated in Guinness and the sandwich is topped with Lucky Charms marshmallows.”

O’TABITHA

Myboyfriend races himself around the apartment. He finds this amusing, especially at 2 AM when I’m trying to sleep. I groan, but keep my eyes closed. “Stupid cat.”
Next he finds a paper bag to scratch on, the feline equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. Since I’m still in bed, he yells until I wake up. I glare at him. He doesn’t blink, staring down at me as if to say, “While you’re up, why don’t you make us some sandwiches?”
Once I’m awake and out of bed, he curls up and falls asleep.

McK-NINE

I still see it happening when I close my eyes. It’s
like one of those old super 8 home movies… You know,
all grainy and the colors don’t seem quite right. I
even seem to hear that rattling, flipping noise of the
old projectors.
I didn’t mean for it to happen that way. I just
wanted to change shirts. I had dripped mustard on
mine, so I swung by my house on the way back to work.
When that closet door popped open instinct took over.
I’d change it if I could.
The bologna sandwiches in prison sure are lousy.

SEAN O’ELISSON

Dougie shambled into the cafeteria and took a seat at the end of the table, far away from his fourth-grade classmates.
Oh, how he envied them. He watched as they opened their sack lunches, digging into their peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches, their salami-on-ryes.
For him, it was an endless parade of sardines on cream cheese, of tuna salad. Weird, fishy sandwiches, the aroma of which clung to him all afternoon. Other kids avoided him, calling him “Fish-Boy.”
It wasn’t easy being the son of the Gorton’s Fisherman.
And the fins growing out of his head and back were no damn help.

TED (NOT KENNEDY)

All my life, I have been on a quest. A search for perfection, that has taken me through numerous countries and continents.
After Years of searching, I have no need to go on. I have found life’s perfection…. Sandwiches..
They will never leave you for another man or woman. They wouldn’t dream of litigation regarding child support. You get what you put into the relationship. They just love you back.
Oh, and sandwiches have integrity. Think about it. Have you ever seen a used sandwich shop? Or a sandwich repair shop?
I rest my case..
Come here, you beautiful Dagwood…

PATTY O’PATTI

I’ve come to recognize many of the homeless people in the city where I live, even privately nicknamed some of them: Talking Tim, Meridian Mary. I begin to worry when I haven’t seen them for awhile.
Take Talking Tim, for instance. I usually see him in the afternoons on my way home from work, but he’d been absent from his usual turf for weeks. I finally spotted him today, walking alone and talking, as usual. But something was different: sandwiched between his right hand and ear was a cell phone.
I’m still wondering if anyone was on the other end.

T O’FOUREM

His body filled the room. All nine Hundred ten pounds. Bob hadn’t
seen the outside of his room for five years. It was sandwich time and
I told him he could get his own if he wanted it. Bob’s eyes got big.
His face was red. Then he arched back and his whole head seemed to
come off. Then a four foot snake like creature came out of his neck,
shot across the room within inches of my nose and bellowed IT’S
SANDWICH TIME NOW! And retreated back into Bob’s body. Always bring
the sandwiches always bring the sandwiches…

AN IRISH VERSION OF MANATA

In 2066, they celebrated their seventieth wedding anniversary. Their “Generation X” marriage had been like very marriage throughout history. Each of them knew how the other took their coffee. Each of them knew the other’s favorite movie, song, and television program. And, like members of countless generations before them, they continued to listen to the music, talk like the movie stars, and act like the celebrities of those from their youth. This is why, on their special day, Jordan said to Courtney, “‘Sup, bitch? I be hungry like mad crazy, yo! Gets ya ass up and makes me a sandwich!”

PLANET O’Z

The Billionaire would look at the social parasites that showed up to his parties and recognize very few of them.
The few he did, they disgusted him.
“You people sicken me,” he muttered.
So, for his next party, he told the caterer to make all the food using human waste.
From the dip to the finger sandwiches, it was all shit.
The champagne? It was yellowish, and marked “previously consumed.”
“How do you like it?” The Billionaire asked.
He enjoyed each moment of horror and how long it took each face to return to its mask of vapid, obsequious delight.

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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.
(In case you’re interested, the new theme music is by Guy David)