Author: R.

Welcome to the twenty-seventh 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 last week’s winner T.A. Marquette from Footnote: Pizza.
Fourteen stories were submitted this week.
Two rookies this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 27th Weekly Challenge?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Gus from Rogue Radio
	Patti
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
	Caroline
	B
	T.A. Marquette of Footnote
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Beck of Incite
	P.J. from No Deep Thoughts
	Kolek from The Kolektive
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Chris Doelle from Riding With The Window Down
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	The Twisted Bard From Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

The full text to each story…
CALEB

“Addams Pizza, this is Pugsley speaking.”
“Mr. Addams, this is Mrs. Rittenhouse”
“Mrs. Rittenhouse! How was the Halloween party?”
“Your gourmet pizzas were a hit.”
“We do our best ma’am.”
“The tex-mex zombie pizzas with the seasoned ground beef and red and green peppers were a smash as were the bleu cheese skeleton pizzas.”
“Thank you”
“But I was confused by the southwest chicken black cat pizzas and the barbecue chicken vampire bat pizzas. They weren’t shaped like animals at all”
“There weren’t any chicken pizzas. Oops! I’ve got to go now. Larry is being careless with the ingredients again.”

GUS

As I sit, alone, in my chair, I wonder to myself, “What happened? I was using protection. How could a thing like this happen?” Yet even still, it was happening right before my eyes.
I hadn’t planned on it, but it was here and I knew I had to do something to end it early before it grew into a larger annoyance.
I pondered, “My first attempts failed; maybe if I remove it manually?” It was a gruesome thought, but it might work.
No, no, there has to be an easier answer. That’s it! I’ll just format the damn thing!

PATTI

The acne left awful scars. At thirty-five, she finally accepted the fact that her skin was as good as it would get. She tried every kind of make up available but, at best, it only toned down the permanent kaleidoscope of red blotches on her chin, her cheeks. The scars, like the holes left by miniature ice picks, were impossible to conceal.
She sat at home on a Friday night, eating a large cheese pizza by herself, and blamed her complexion on the fact that she didn’t have a boyfriend. But the real problem was that she was a bitch.

LISA

Luigi was a bit of a sicko growing up. He had a bad reputation by the time he reached his teens for pulling some pretty twisted shit. Now a bit older, he decided to put all that behind him and start a new life.
He worked hard to establish himself in the new city. His restaurant, “Luigi’s Pizzeria” – became “the place” to get your favorite pie.
Luigi couldn’t seem to escape his old urges though, even though he had been trying hard. The house specialty was sausage and cheese…unfortunately, his patrons knew little about the contents of that sausage.

CAROLINE

Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now
Send me the pizza boy baby
I gotta see him somehow
Ever since he came to my door my heart been’s pining I keep ordering more
I wanna see him and tell him and tell him I care, but when I go to the door there’s someone else there.
Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now
Send me the pizza boy baby
I gotta see him somehow
My friends all say that he’s left the town
I get upset and sit and frown
I order more pizza to see if its true
There’s a new pizza boy and he likes me too
Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now

B

For the 96th day in a row – Tom came home to pizza.
Would this madness never end?
Fran was sitting at the table, perusing the weekly ads.
With resolve, Tom slapped two pieces of extra mushroom with banana peppers on his plate and sat across from Fran.
They eyed each other. Neither blinked.
He took a bite. His stomach recoiled.
Could a person regurgitate without ever having swallowed?
Tom finally realized his resistance was futile.
“I give up. You win.”
“Oh, good.” Fran said calmly. “That stainless steel model with 6 burners and convection oven is back on sale.”

TA MARQUETTE

“Next “the gavel crack echoed through the senate chamber.
“The senator from New York yields 45secs
to the senator from Illinois.”
“We tire of decisive partisan deadlock
Texas argues for beans. New Mexico without.
Massachusetts argues beans but Boston.
Hot Dogs, Hoagies, Hamburgers.
All notable contributions
to the American culinary tapestry,
but small in stature.
We need a food that symbolizes
the bigness of our country.
That food is pizza!
What could be more democratic?
Slice equality, red blooded American
sauces. A possibility of infinite toppings
It is the daily bread of our age.
Let Pizza be our National Food

LAIEANNA

Earthly Delight Pizza promised to be the most interesting of pizzas
and even came with a cautionary note.
All flavors are unique and intense. Eat at your own risk.
So I did.
The first slice tasted of desert sand and made me thirst for a Pepsi. The second tasted of rich soil with added pebble crunch. The third was fire, flames scorching my mouth. The fourth tasted like saltwater. So much so I thought I was drowning. Then it was the wind, cool and light. I even swallowed a bug. The last piece was pepperoni with olives.
I hate olives.

BECK

There is good pizza and there is bad pizza. Thin or thick; round or square; topped or plain; sauced or dry. There’s traditional, iconic pizza recognizable even to the most isolated, media starved aboriginal, and there’s unrecognizable nouveau creations. And I love them all.
As such, I have taken the only possible logical course of action and decreed in my will that my body be donated to pizza. And while I leave the ultimate decision to pizza, I would like to suggest allocation of my liver to the “premium toping” category. And my nipples make excellent pepperoni substitutes. Trust me.

PJ

Things were going pretty well with Paula and her new Beau
She could not believe such a catch of a guy was not already taken.
He opened the door for her, sent flowers, and even on occasion…cooked her dinner.
Surely, at last, this was “the one”
They laughed and cuddled and had begun planning a future together.
Then one evening her dreams were shattered.
Paula walked into the kitchen to find a horrible site.
What in the hell are you doing?
She screeched, then burst into tears.
Oh, this could never work now.
He had cut the pizza into squares.

KOLEK

Times have been tough for a while now.
The government controls everything: The media, food,
literature, history, everything.
This pizza I just got came from the black market. I risked
get my tongue cut off, but the rations just don’t provide enough
food. And ration food tastes horrible.
Anyway, there seems to be a resistance movement going on.
The people here seem to secretly support them, and the
resistance connects to agents among the people through the black market.
I did something for them once, and they gave me counterfeit ration
cards, which was cool.
Interestingly something…
Uh-oh… Gotta go…

HOUSTON KEYS

It was the pizza dude’s first delivery and he was nervous.
Grabbing the pizza, he raced for the door and banged furiously. He only had two minutes to go until it was a freebie.
The sound of trash cans falling and breaking glass in the alley caught his attention.
The customer was getting away!
The slob was surprisingly nimble, hurdling hedges with the pizza dude hot on his heels until a low chain link fence and a vicious rottweiler drug him down.
“Save me!” he screamed, “I’m too young to die!”
“That depends,” said the pizza dude, “What’s my tip?”

CHRIS DOELLE

The North Korean diplomat spoke quietly into the phone, “Two extra rarge meat rovers with extra mozzarerra. Mozarerra! No, you idiot – meat rovers with extra mozarerra.”
He hung up the phone and returned to Kim Jong Il’s office. “The package is being derivered Dear Reader.”
“EXCERRENT,” answered the madman wringing his hands “MY PRAN IS FARRING RIGHT INTO PRACE!”
“But Dear Reader, how will you get the American food past all the starving citizens? And your critics in America – how will you hide the fact that you are importing meat rovers pizzas?”
“WE COULD SET OFF A NUCREAR EXPROSION.”

TED

The pizza guy, Jaime, never caught the spinning, whirling dough which he had been tossing into the air. Jaime’s body hit the floor with a wet splat. The pizza dough hit the floor with a dull thud.
The pizzeria patrons were as nervous as an airborne big league pitcher flying solo.
“Oh, I’m sorry” said Cecil, as he holstered his .357 Magnum. “When I asked if you were ready to take my order, you shouldn’t have said “shoot”.”
“My bad” he said, as he walked out and headed down the street to the other Pizza joint.

PLANET Z

Lord Morgan wanted to live forever.
So, he makes a deal with The Devil. He’d get another week of life for every pizza he’d eat.
But they had to have toppings he’d never eaten before.
So, Morgan started with his favorite: simple pepperoni. Then sausage. Then mushrooms. Then…
He did the math, some painstaking research, and things went along smoothly for a few years, decades, centuries.
Morgan had to get really exotic after a while: rhinoceros, marmoset, platypus.
Ancient, exhausted – he yearned for his favorite again.
Pure, simple pepperoni.
“It was worth it,” he said, while descending to Hell.

---

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, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Welcome to the twenty-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 last week’s winner Laieanna from HodgePodge Point: Sleeping Disorder.
Ten stories were submitted this week.
One rookie this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 26th Weekly Challenge?
	T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
	John W.
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
	Andrew from Dodgeblogium
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots
	Caroline from Quadra
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Ted’s Podcast
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Kolek from Kolek
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

The full text to each story…
T.A. MARQUETTE

I stair at the doorknob as I polish Master Simon’s blowing Ball. Later I’ll rearrange the newspapers and scrub out my latex boxer shorts.
I tried counting sheep earlier in the week but that just got Mr. Happy excited and you know how demanding that little guy can be.
Sometimes on sleepless night like this I wonder how different my life Would have been if I’d got that part in Pulp Fiction.
If I could dream, which I can’t cuss of this damn insomnia. I see me in a field of cover, surrounded by cute little pink bunnies.
Aaahhha Bunnies.

LISA:

In her twenty-five year practice, she’d never had a case like this. He exhibited all the classic signs of narcolepsy: overwhelming urges to sleep, excessive daytime sleepiness, involuntary loss of muscle tone, hallucinations, and brief episodes of paralysis. Yet, it was more complex; there was something else happening while he slept. He often awoke with uncharacteristic, inexplicable, hand-shaped welts across his face.
She decided to conduct further tests. He spent three days in a sleep lab, where the doctor and three female lab assistants made the novel diagnosis. Her findings were published later that year: First Documented Case of “Nympholepsy”.

ANDREW:

His doctor told him he suffered from a sleeping disorder brought on by stress and all he needed was relaxation. Clive knew better than that; his last visit to the sea was when it all began. His recent visions of discordance and apocalyptical scenes made Bosch’s vision seem childish.
Even the thought of the sea made Clive break out into a cold sweat. His nose was suffering hallucinations of brackish sea-water and fish.
Bathing himself and showers reminded him of sinking in the sea.
He eyed the water far below and jumped…diving into the cold embrace of the tidal river.

JOHN W.

It was midnight with the mowing – this time. Other times it was late night hammering and power tools, for months now. When nagged out of bed the neighbor’s house would become suddenly quiet; and I could get no answer.
My wife told me to be ready next time, and I was. When I leapt straight from my sleeping bag and into their yard I knew it was a mistake even before I saw the teeth.
Who would associate vampires with good housekeeping?
But I smiled, knowing my wife would come to see what the hell was taking me so long.

HOUSTON KEYS:

Tossing and turning all night had become an all too familiar routine and there was no end in sight.
I lay at night gripping my soft and fluffy feather filled friend longing for sleep’s sweet embrace. Finally I could take no more as years of my sleeping disorder had driven me to the brink of insanity.
It had to end.
I finally decided to end it all. I gave away my finest possession, my relaxed fit parachute pants.
I grabbed a pill bottle and downed the whole thing.
Unfortunately it was laxative, so it’s going to be a long night.

CAROLINE:

Sleepwalking wasn’t normally Harry’s style. How on earth did he get here, on the road, far from anywhere? He’d dreamt about Alicia. He couldn’t very well tell the wife that -they only discussed the weather these days. Alicia, his friend from the net he’d never met yet knew he’d like a lot if he ever plucked up the courage. In bright red disordered dressing gown and bare feet he slowly plodded home. His wife opened the front door. ‘Where on earth…’she began. Her eyes bulging as she saw it. On his forehead was a large A written in red lipstick.

LAIEANNA:

“What a honeymoon,” Donna sighed. Alex drank almost a whole bottle of wine by himself and was now snoring. Their very first night together and she was unpleasantly kept awake.
She covered her ears till he stopped. Finally there was no snoring, and no breathing. She stayed acutely aware until he started again. This happened all through the night and she grew deeply concerned. Later, he stopped for far to long. Donna freaked, leaping onto his stomach and pushing on his chest.
Alex grabbed her suddenly and laughed, “I knew I could get you on top of me that way!”

TED:

The harsh reality of life, is that we must and some point, endure sleep disorders. My most problematic symptom is not sleep paralysis, although that can be terrifying. What I have is worse. Sheep paralysis. I lie awake, counting the damn things, and every time, somewhere around # 46 or #47, one of the stupid things trips and bonks me on the head! Then I have to start all over again. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I just hate waking up and stepping in sheep poop. Once in awhile though, it can be a really nice eye opener.

CALEB:

Ted never could believe it wasn’t butter. He asked his wife again and again but she continually reassured him that it wasn’t butter.
It kept him up nights.
He eventually went to a sleep clinic but they too said that it wasn’t butter. Ted just couldn’t believe it or sleep.
Finally the sleeplessness drove him over the edge. Literally. He drowned in his car in Lake Superior. The autopsy showed, one last time, that it had never been butter. It had been meth-amphetamine with some salt and yellow food coloring.
Ted’s wife always did have a strange sense of humor.

KOLEK:

His exhaustion gnawed at him, for he could not fall asleep last night. Or any night before then. He wondered how he would avoid falling asleep at the wheel. Perhaps his sleep disorder would help him stay awake.
Probably not.
He blearily stared down the winding grey road and a thought came to him. No medication has helped him yet, or likely ever would, but this one would.
He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. He swerved his vehicle into oncoming traffic and smiled.
Finally he would get some sleep. A deep, peaceful, untroubled sleep.

PLANET Z:

When Superman dreams of flying, does he fly?
Based on simple Physiology, we believe he shouldn’t. Most dream-capable organisms have evolved mechanisms in their brains that prevent muscular action while asleep or unscionscious, reducing neural signals to the periphery. All they end up doing is twitching or rolling a bit.
But then, somnambulism is the result of a subconscious malfunction, I remind myself, watching the snoring caped superhero waft crazily against the moonlit sky.
He tumbles, zigs, and grazes a building.
I hope he wakes up soon. I don’t know what’s worse – the damage he’s causing or those window-shattering snores.

---

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, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)