R. – Page 775 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter

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The old saying goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Around here, it goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter.”
Walter smokes. Walter smokes a lot.
I can’t remember any time when I’ve seen Walter not smoking.
Once, I saw Walter asleep at a bar, and his hand reached into his mouth, pulled out his exhausted cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, pulled another from his pack, lit it, and stuck it in his mouth.
Which is why I opened up the coffin and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
How was I to know someone had dowsed him in gasoline?

Div

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells the vicious tale of Div…

Div was thrown a curve when he learned Robbie Williams was coming back to Take That. His killing spree the last time was after the singer left the group. He did it to keep TT going after Williams left the fold. His only hope is that Robbie was not “Back for Good’ so he could kill again. Div was upset; he so enjoyed his murdering; it gave him a thrill so missing in his life. Frustrated Div tossed the balled up paper into the fire…as his last victim burnt to a crisp. This bottle of gasoline had seen to that.

Written In Rock

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Don’t believe Rick Springfield’s lies when he sings “Nothing’s written in rock.”
Some things are written in rock. And they do last forever.
It’s when things are written in ice cream that they don’t last.
Sure, that gigantic two-ton fudge sundae that says “Happy birthday, Morty” on the side looks like it could survive a Japanese invasion fleet, but the truth is that it can barely withstand the coordinated assault of a kindergarten class armed with nothing but spoons and their appetites.
In fact, that’s what Pearl Harbor was supposed to be, until the Japs realized that children don’t explode.

Lost

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Eldrick was furious.
He had recently scored a set of classic persimmon-head clubs. Not for work, he had told himself. Never for work. These beauties are for pleasure.
Their heads glowed with a deep varnished luster, the brass screws set perfectly flush. Four gorgeous clubs: driver, brassie, cleek, and spoon. Products of a bygone age.
And now they were missing.
How can they be missing? he asked himself. How many golf club thieves can there be at an Oceanographic Institute on the south shore of Cape Cod?
Eldrick groaned, thinking of the headlines. “Woods Loses Woods at Woods (Hole).” Crap.

Take That

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells another tale to the music…

He watched the fire burn bright; on his iPod was Take That’s Relight My Fire. He never thought he would be back doing his tribute to the boys. It took him from the time of the reunion announcement until their first gig to decide how he would restart his tribute. Would he kill aging TT fans or young girls like the last time? Would his failed pursuers figure out he had returned? Teenage girls are far more newsworthy than older women. The song ended and he headed away from the still burning bodylooking forward to next date on their tour.

Some stains

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Some stains don’t come out easily.
No, I’m not talking about grape juice stains. We get enough of those in the clothes people donate through us.
I’m talking about spiritual stains. Echoes of misery and agony, soaked into the fabric beyond the reach of any detergent.
Put on a haunted suit, the wedding goes bad.
Put on a haunted ball cap, you get headaches.
Put on a haunted dress, your tits sag.
That’s why we use a laundry that has a full-time exorcist on staff. Removes the curses.
But if you don’t pay, we can always put them back in.

Poor Career Choice

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Dr. Zimmerman shook his head in frustration.
Since hanging out his shingle, he had had hundreds of patients. Not a single one ever came back a second time.
It was a damned shame. A poor choice of specialty. Prostate exams…
He had been a football player in his younger days. With hands the size of Smithfield hams, he could snag almost any pass. But when a knee injury buried his NFL dreams, medical school beckoned.
Crap, he thought.
You don’t need a weatherman to see which way the wind blows…or that the world has no need for a Meaty Urologist.

Tube

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What lurks beneath? Andrew Ian Dodge worries…

In London we dig underground deep into the cold soil to make room for our trains and tunnels.
Thousands of workers and machines toiling in the earth. Amongst the workers, who work 24/7, are a few people whose task is to provide safety. They aren’t health & safety people; but dedicated individuals who make sure that all the tunnels are properly protected.
Those marks you see speeding along in the tube or in your car are not graffiti or left over from construction. They are wards against some of the other things that reside in the earth.
Very nasty things.

Radio Free Hell

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Silvia’s parents thought she was retarded, but her inattentiveness was due to constant buzzing in her ears.
Despite the doctors’ many treatments, it grew worse over time.
Many years later, Silvia learned about meditation, slowing herself down to manage pain.
The buzzing slowed to a ringing, and then… a stream of voices.
‘Why did you kill me, Arthur?”
“It’s not fair.”
“The pain!”
“I’ll see you in Hell.”
Radio Free Hell. In her skull.
Then, she heard them…
“We wasted our lives worrying for her.”
Her parents. In Hell.
She drove knitting needles into her ears and embraced the silence.

Weekly Challenge #1 – Bunnies

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Welcome to the first 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 is: bunnies.
You have until midnight on Friday the 21st to email me your story.
It would be preferred that you attach your own recording of the story, but if I have the time I will record and include all of the contributed stories in a single collection, which will be posted next Saturday.
If this takes off and there’s a healthy amount of participation, I may go ahead with my plans to create 100 Words Or Les Nessman 2.0. (With weekly themes instead of daily themes to cut down on burnout and attrition.)
Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have.

Midnight came, and midnight went. Time’s up!
There were 11 stories this week. Go ahead and listen to the stories (click on the grammy-o-phone icon there on the left side of this entry) and vote for your favorite:

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.

Who wrote the best story?
	Andrew Ian Dodge of Dodgeblogium
	Tommy of Striving For Average
	Borealis of Sunidesus
	Jim Thompson of Making Movies
	Elisson of Blog d’Elisson
	Justin of Fat Elvis
	Rahel Jaskow of Elms in the Yard
	Senobia
	Beck of Incite
	Jim Parkinson
	The Mystery Man from Planet Z

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