Category: My stories

The President went to Congress to give a speech.
When he walked into the room, the representatives from his party stood up and clapped, and the representatives from the opposing party sat silently.
Then, he gave the speech.
When he finished a sentence, the representatives from his party stood up and clapped, and the representatives from the opposing party sat silently.
After he finished the speech, the representatives from his party stood up and clapped, and the representatives from the opposing party sat silently.
As for the people watching at home, both of them were too drunk to care anymore.

Shakespeare says that a coward dies a thousand deaths, but the valiant taste death but once.
What does death taste like?
It could be like those Harry Potter jellybeans. Different flavors for everyone. Cherry and baked potato and peach and plastic wrap and…
But I doubt it.
If you die from drowning, your death tastes like water.
If you die from getting shot in the chest, your death tastes like blood.
Same as getting punched in the mouth.
If you fall on your face in the dirt to die, your death tastes like dirt.
And maybe vomit, if you’re unlucky.

God created the world, then he created animals and plants and then Adam and Eve.
“You may not eat from the Tree of Knowl- hey, where did it go?” said God.
Adam smiled and pulled out a park bench. “I made this with it.”
God scratched his beard. “Did you eat any of the fruit?”
“No,” said Adam. “Eve tried to get me to, but I tossed it in the river.”
God looked in his rulebook. “I guess that’s okay,” he said. “Oh well. Enjoy eternity.”
And Adam did. Right after he cut out Eve’s tongue with a sharp rock.

I use a treadmill to lose weight.
I lost 25 pounds.
And reached 245 pounds.
Four weeks ago, my sister-in-law came to visit.
And I was unable to use my treadmill in the morning.
Because she slept in that room.
She had a cold. I caught it.
I could not walk in the afternoon, either.
I am stuck at 245.
If a cashier says the price is two dollars and forty-five cents, I will stab him.
If a clock says that the time is two forty five, I will smash it.
AM or PM, I will smash it.
And walk.

Not everyone who listens to Marilyn Manson goes on a shooting spree like the Columbine kids, just as not everyone who sees a Lexus ad goes out and buys a Lexus.
But some people are impressionable, and do go out and buy Lexuses.
And some of them buy those Lexuses for their kids for their sixteenth birthday.
Those are the dangerous ones. Those are the ones we should fear.
Where were the parents, the pundits ask.
Out buying Lexuses. For their kids. For their sixteenth birthdays.
Arrest those parents. Arrest those kids.
Oh, and when you do, bring your guns.

The country was a dictatorship, and the dictator ruled over everything and everyone.
However, when the press came, he had a Potemkin village set up to fool them into thinking the people had food, decent homes, electricity, and freedom.
The press and foreign diplomats liked it so much, more of them came, and the dictator assigned more citizens to the village.
It grew into a city… then several cities… and eventually it spread across the entire country.
The place was prosperous, enlightened, peaceful, and free.
The dictator gladly relinquished power, put on some casual clothes, and enjoyed a stress-free life.

We lived in this place a long time.
The walls are covered with pictures from our life together.
She’s not well. The treatments are expensive.
And we tried to save up for these things, but you can only save up so much.
We’ll have to sell the house.
I took down the pictures.
The wallpaper that was behind the pictures is brighter than the rest of the wall.
And the door to the safe is so shiny.
I open it, and pull out stacks of money.
After she’s gone, I’ll buy the house back.
You can only save so much.

The dumbest question people ask me is:
“Does it have to be 100 words long?”
A good host would have a nice answer for that question, but I’m not a good host.
So, I’ll respond with:
“Are you stupid or something?”
Or:
“You’ve got to be shitting me.”
Which usually drives the potential participant off.
That’s okay, because I really don’t want to deal with someone who asks how many words should be in their story for a site called “The 100 Word Stories Podcast.”
Do I count the words in every story people send in?
No. Because I’m lazy.

It’s usually too warm in Houston to wear a leather jacket.
I only get to wear my jacket in December, January, and most of February.
I try to remember to empty the pockets of that jacket.
But I’m always losing something in that jacket.
Never a phone or a wallet. I’d miss those.
But a pair of sunglasses? Or a Bluetooth earpiece?
Yeah, I found both in my jacket’s pocket this year.
I thought I’d lost them.
I’d already bought a new pair of glasses. And a new Bluetooth earpiece.
At least I don’t need a new leather jacket, right?

We know about Mother Goose and her fairy tales and nursery rhymes, but what do we know of Father Goose?
Some say that he died in the war.
Others say that he drank a lot, and he drowned in the river.
But we, her kids, know the truth.
“This is your Uncle Goose,” Mother would say, as she led yet another John to her bedroom.
Sometimes, we heard her crying at night.
We’d ask if she was okay, and she’d tell stories about magical places and amazing adventures.
Just to escape for a little while.
For us. And her, too.