Nessie

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A mysterious creature glided in the depths.
Legends had circulated for years, but never any hard evidence. The creature belonged to the shadowy realm of the Possibly Real occupied by Sasquatch, the Ten Lost Tribes, and the /menehune/ of Hawai’i.
But when bowling ball-sized chunks of meat began boiling to the surface of the lake, each enveloped in a mysterious doughy casing, the locals called me in. Abe Schwartz, Dybbuk Hunter. Ghosts and Legendary Creatures a specialty.
After searching all my life, I had finally found her. The miraculous evidence left no doubt that it was the Kreploch-Ness Monster.

Assembled Ache

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Laieanna missed the deadline for the Weekly Challenge on toothache, but being the good sport (and writer) she is, she’s sent it in as a midweek story…

Dr Tyler adjusted his mask before facing the two men. “So what made you bring your…son? Son in today?
“Oh, some toothaches.”
“Toothaches?” The dentist exclaimed. “Just how many?”
Both men leaned forward to take a closer look. “Well, I’m not sure how many, but he’s groaning all the time, sometimes even yelling. Just can’t have a peaceful night reading before the fireplace.”
Dr. Tyler took a mirror off the tray, “Well, open wide, sonny.” The dentist stepped back quickly. “What’s going on here?” Tyler turned an astonished face to the other man, “Dr. Frankenstein, ALL his teeth are decaying.”

Sunday Morning Misalignment

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The Missus and I sat at the breakfast table, the scattered remnants of our waffles cooling on our plates.
She tossed her head, indicating the stairs.
“Well, we might as well go and get this over with.”
She continued, “It’s always so much harder to do it again if you put it off.”
We looked at each other. A sly grin stole across my face.
“Are we thinking about the same thing?” asked The Missus.
“Aren’t we?” I said.
“You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?” asked The Missus.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I was thinking about going to the gym.”

Fresh From The Farm

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After the Great Protein Shortage of 2029, the genetic engineers started getting creative.
People needed protein, and the existing sources weren’t getting the job done. Beef cattle were practically extinct after the BSE epidemics in the late teens. Fish were laden with heavy metals, poultry with pesticides. Legumes were fine – except for their unfortunate vaporous side effects.
But then a brilliant Belgian geneticist had a breakthrough. An excellent protein source: animals that lived in a farmable colony. Roughly three apples high, they made a perfect portion. And in time, people got used to the color.
Smurf and Turf, anyone?

Hallowed

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The final of three tales from fellow HWRNMNBSOL disciple Alan P. Scott.

We file into the sanctuary, folding into our pews. The Christ above His altar beams through His blessed agony. Oddly fixed in shape, just four tentacles and one sense-bud, eyes embedded in its hard shell. Yet He is Lord, and before Him we had none. So we sing His praises as we are able.
His spirit fills me as never before. I shove past limbs retracting and extending, stumbling to the altar. I kneel before His cross and swear: I dedicate myself to His service.
Tomorrow I have the operation. Four tentacles, and one sense-bud. Remade, in His Image. Amen.

In a perfect world, this would entice HWRNMNBSOL out of his lair, but apparently he requires a blood-sacrifice.
Time to hit the pet store.

Arachne

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Alan P. Scott offers up a second 100 word story for your enlightenment.

Reshmi – flowering, sixteen – sells code from her loom. “Programs Woven Here,” reversing Jacquard since age thirteen. Geeks buzz around her.
Madhukar offers his tattered web browser.
“It needs patched.”
Reshmi dimples.
“More a whole garment, think I. But no worries. It will be perfect.”
Madhukar plunges.
“And…
“Would you dance with me at festival tomorrow?”
He is her first.
“Yes.”
*
But she doesn’t. Her stall empty, ransacked. Madhukar receives email with one large attachment: rewoven, as promised.
Madhukar clicks ever deeper into the deepest web. Madhukar can go anywhere. It’s perfect – and he realizes who Reshmi angered.

Feng Shui

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I did a search for 100 word stories out on the net and found Alan P. Scott, a fellow fan of HWRNMNBSOL. Here’s the first of three stories he’s generously contributed to the podcast for your enjoyment…

My cubicle has the best feng shui in the office. Everybody says so. The monitor is angled just right to repel demons, and little strips of black tape tell me where my pens and pencils go for optimum efficiency.
The only problem is, it’s not working. I have been passed up for promotion *three times*, each time beaten by a cheerful slob with a messy desk. It’s not fair.
Master Yap is willing to provide one more consultation. I know now what I must do.
No more desk. No more chair. I sit on the mat and wait for promotion.

Aseret b’Tevet

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Last Sunday was Aseret b’Tevet – the tenth day of the Jewish month Tevet.
It’s a day of religious significance mainly to observant Jews, who fast during daylight hours to commemorate the breaching of the walls of Jerusalem by the Babylonians, the first step in the destruction of King Solomon’s Temple.
Even non-Jews know about Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. That’s a full fast: no food or drink from before sundown until after sundown the following day. Twenty-five hours of hunger and penance.
But Aseret b’Tevet is not as big a deal. You might even call it a half-fast.

Last Gasp

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Atlanta is in mourning upon hearing the tragic news that Gasper, one of the Georgia
Aquarium’s celebrated beluga whales and a favorite among visitors, has been euthanized.
Gasper had been suffering from osteomyelitis, a bone infection, and his condition had
deteriorated in the past several weeks.
“We rescued Gasper knowing that he was seriously ill, but were hopeful that we might have
been able to save him,” said Bernie Marcus, Georgia Aquarium benefactor and chairman of
the board.
In related news, the Georgia Aquarium today announced plans to build a 50,000-gallon
capacity toilet bowl to facilitate disposal of the remains.

Vanilla

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It’s another twisted bit of verse from out old friend Caleb Bullen from the Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast

I’m growing bored with bondage
And sodomy’s the same
I’m not wishing for submission
That’s such a tired game.
I need to find a new kink
To keep me in the pink
Vanilla, vanilla my new kink is vanilla
From Kurachi to Manilla the brand new thing
Is vanilla
It’s the best form of rebellion
To stop being such a hellion
It has filled in all I lack
To give away my leathers black
When you’re bored with whips and being scary
Why not try it missionary
When you’re tired of dressing like a guerrilla
Try the new kink
Vanilla