Weekly Challenge – Page 102 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #45 – The Steaming Heap

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Welcome to the forty-fifth 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 Elisson from Blog d’Elisson, and it’s The Steaming Heap.
Twelve stories were submitted this week.
Two rookies joined in… yay!
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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s a packet containing a pair of refrigerators 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!

The full text of each story:
TOM

There are jobs destine to go to the young.
They are physical and as a class tend
to be offensive to the orafactorial sensibilities.
Mr. Russell directed John to the shingled shed,
handed him a shovel.
“To the floor,” he said
It was dead winter but the vapors
of the steaming heap danced in the air.
Fifty years of newspapers.
Rain on peed on and pooped on.
Chemical reactions from fermentation to
fractional distillations possibly even
nuclear fission gave the heap a core temperature.
John laid shovel to its skin.
Beneath was a blacker steamer goop.
John lost his lunch

MIKE JAMES

Tom stood still, just staring. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed,
but no, he knew it would be. The chilly air made it seem even less
agreeable than usual. It was early, it was quiet, perhaps no one had
even noticed. Salvation seemed so close. Just then, Agnes’s door
opened. As she walked past Tom to her mailbox the look in her
eyes was more than enough to signal that it was too late.
Tom bent over, baggie in hand, and picked up the warm steaming heap.
He waived to Agnes, as he and His dog walked on.

TABITHA

“What is it?” Willow said, looking up at Giles.
“Dunno,” Giles adjusted his glasses, leaning in closer he made a horrible face.
“It ain’t no blooming rose garden.” Spike grumbled.
Buffy watched it cautiously. “How can I slay something like that?”
All of them stood dumbfounded while Clem chortled with glee. Finally Anya stepped in from her weekly counting of money. “Why aren’t you all buying something?”
Xander pointed at the spectacle lying on the floor of the Magic Box store.
Anya looked at it, then shrugged. “You humans always impressed by a steaming pile of demon excrement.”

LISA

Marcel had aspirations to play on the varsity hockey team, but the only position he made the cut for was waterboy. Disappointed, but wanting desperately to be part of the team, he took his duties seriously. He always arrived early for each game and was last to leave, cleaning up after everyone.
When Marcel didn’t come home by 10:30, his family became concerned. By midnight, they called the police. A school-wide search began and the dogs were brought in. They were able to sniff out poor Marcel, who was found knocked unconscious under the still-steaming heap of putrid hockey gear.

ELISSON

“It’s been years now, but I’ll never forget when we tried to rescue Ann from that giant ape.
“A bunch of us came along with Driscoll. He had seen Kong grab Ann and knew we had no time to lose.
“Skull Island? Horrible. Dinosaurs, swamps, and a ravine fulla giant bugs! I still get the sweats thinking about it.
“Anyhow, it was pretty easy to track that monkey. Every couple hundred yards, there’d be a steaming heap of Ape-Shit.
“But when we saw the blond hair in that last heap – why, that’s when we turned around and went home.”

TERRENCE

“What is that?” The cloaked figure said.
“What?” Raoul looked up at his brother on the ashen horse.
“The steaming heap,” The figure raised a thin arm and pointed behind Raoul.
Innocently Raoul looked over his shoulder at the unidentifiable mass a
short distance behind him. He turned back to his brother and
shrugged.
“I do not have the time for this.” He checked the list in his hand.
“So what did this Simon do?”
“Not returning emails, misspelling names.”
“And what is that thing?” Raoul turned again.
“That?” Raoul smiled. “Is a former sex slave midget, dancing with joy.”

PATTI

Joel knew his arm was broken, badly; shock was setting in.
“Broken … arm,” he mumbled to the Emergency Room clerk.
“Have a seat; we’ll call you,” she said.
Pulling up his sleeve, he shoved his mangled arm inches from the clerk’s face. The fractured bones overlapped each other beneath the skin, shortening his arm by at least four inches and giving it a “Z” shape.
“Look at this shit,” he yelled, “I’ll be seen RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” And he collapsed.
They found him covered in a steaming heap of the clerk’s vomit; it was her first and last day in the ER.

LAIEANNA

It worked! When a steaming heap of…well, no need to be graphic,
poured out of his mouth, I wanted to puke. He was so freaked out. He
wouldn’t stop babbling and more stuff plopped onto his clothes. I
laughed, but a small part of me felt guilty. I left for awhile and
when I returned he was still talking to himself. The smell was
overwhelming. I handed him a sign language book. Now that the curse
had taken place, I figured he needed to find a new way to spew his
shit when he’s hitting on women in the bar.

TED

The medical examiner was silent. I still say he was a loss for words. There is absolutely NO excuse for any human being to morph into what he saw here before him.
She lay before him, bloated and stinky. What was once the American dream, the desire of most red blooded American males, now was nothing more than worm food. Let the worms have their way with her.
Drugs, alcohol, old men, internet porn.. It was obvious that she had indulged in them all,. Here she was, cold and dead, a steaming heap of goo..
We’ll miss you, Anna Nicole.

DODGE

The steaming pile filled the air that not only smelled of excrement,
rubbish and braken but left a taste in one’s mouth that was foul just
by standing near it.
The policeman who stood next to me could barely keep is dour face
straight. To open his mouth to speak to me was to gag.
I was here to see the bloated shape that lay below us the body look
humanoid, the large head and obviously webbed hands & feet saw to
that.
A creature of fiction lay there…in reality. The proximity to my flat
worried me intensely…they knew me…

K-NINE

Colonel Stratton was a cavalry officer first and
foremost. He rode a gallant steed all across France
in the First World War. The Army was his life, but
here in Europe during the latest global conflict, he
was starting to hate the changes of the last twenty
five years.
Once, he had ridden his horse through thick woods,
through muddy fields of bogged down artillery.
He stared at the broken broom handle that pierced the
radiator of his Jeep, the engine sputtered, and he did
the only thing an old horse soldier knew to do. He
shot the steaming heap.

to4m

Superbowl Sunday. The Guys would be there soon . I had to get the
yard work finished although it was freezing cold outside. I quietly
resented my teenage boy staying late getting high. He should’ve been
the one out there in the cold.. When brought it up to the wife she’d
say I was being too harsh on the boy. I found myself working my anger
out in the yard work. Especially with the wood chipper that is until
I slipped and as I had my first and last out of body experience I
saw a steaming heap of me.

Linda looked at the menu and pointed at “The Steaming Heap.”
“It sounds like it’s describing… well, a pile of fresh horse crap,” she said to the waiter.
“It’s dumplings,” said the waiter.
“Oh, okay,” she said. “I guess I’ll have those.”
Fifteen minutes later, the waiter brought out a platter with a steaming heap of fresh dumplings.
“Enjoy,” he told her.
Linda speared one with a fork, tipped it into the bowl of ginger-and-soy dip, and took a bite.
She swallowed it before she realized the flavor in her mouth was, indeed, steamed horse crap. (With ginger and soy.)

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.)

Weekly Challenge #44 – Whiffle Balls

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Welcome to the forty-fourth 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 Ted from Ted’s Podcast, and it’s Whiffle Balls.
Eleven stories were submitted this week.
More of the Smith Family joined in as rookies!… yay!
An interview with Tom of Footnote about his story!
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):

The winner will determine the next topic in the series.
WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s a packet containing a round refrigerator magnet, a rectangular refrigerator magnet and a CD with the archive of the entire 100 word stories podcast. (Well, minus promos and junk)
Normally, it is your voting that determines who wins. But this week, I’m going ahead and giving them out to all participants, past and present. Send me your address via email and I’ll mail it out the packet to you.
But the offer is open to people who respond this week and this week only.

The full text of each story:
ELISSON

Dr. Cox never missed an opportunity to harass the new first-year residents.
As he led the group of newbies on rounds, he made a point of seeking out patients with the most revolting, horrific conditions. Mrs. Finster, a 300-pound woman with a prolapsed rectum. Mr. Jones, who suffered from the increasingly rare Hansen’s disease. Leprosy had eaten away half his face. Nonetheless, the residents were unfazed.
But when they saw the guy in 303B, half of them retched on the spot. His scrotum was perforated, a mass of weeping sores.
Cox laughed inwardly. Wiffle balls – gets ’em every time.
[Please note that the WIFFLE® Ball is a registered trademark of The Wiffle Ball Inc., Shelton, Connecticut.]

to4m

Having left home in her parallel universe, every day was a challenge.
After her physics class project went awry she found herself trying to make sense of her exceedingly similar new world. She was able to speak and understand the language but it was the subtle differences that were so difficult. She was used to celebrating the mid winter not with
trees and material gifts but with loving gestures. There were the elbow rubs, which the people of the new world didn’t mind but it was the ball whiffing that confused the men and got her arrested

CLAYTON

The warm Sun shone down on Cedar Park, Texas, the small field, the thousands of spectators, and little Timmy. Timmy stood in the batter’s box, plastic yellow bat in hand. This was the national whiffle ball championship, and he was going to win the distance competition. The warnings from family and friends that he was too small and too weak, that he would embarrass himself, did not discourage him. He had mowed endless lawns for 2 summers, saving every penny for the entry fee.
This was his one chance, his dream, and he believed in himself. A full two weeks after his body was found hanging from the ceiling fan, Timmy’s mother was still locked in her room mumbling to herself “Four feet, four inches, the shortest hit in history. Why didn’t he listen? Why?”

TOM

Brother Liberwitz moved away from the edge of the excavation. A 1000 years ago this had been Connecticut. At the bequest of the Duke of Montreal the good brother had begun the great work of locating the reliquary.
Liberwitz had never actually held any of the relics. From the manuscripts he had pieced together a ruff description and a crude test of authenticity. It glowed in his hand. The holy markings matched the Illuminations. To the horror of the monks he through the relic across the field. It curved and whistled. The monks chanted “Wiffle ball wiffle ball whiffle ballallallallall”

ANDREW

“Wiffle ball?” He paused, ” Does it have anything to do with a crushed
testicle? Or something gay men do…”
“What?” I replied, “What the hell are you on about mate? How did
testicles show up in this conversation?”
“What pray tell is a wiffle ball then?” He asked flustered.
“Well beside a rubbish topic to write about it’s a plastic ball that
children learn to baseball with so they don’t brain each other.” I
replied.
“Ah yes, your equivalent of health & safety have banned real baseballs
for under 10s I guess?”
“Probably, they tend to meddle in everything.”

PATTI

Mother thought it unladylike for me to play ball with the boys. Basketball, football, whiffle ball … it didn’t matter; it was too dirty, too rough, and having a tomboy for a daughter was not in Mother’s plan.
“You’ll get your good shoes dirty.”
“But I’m wearing my Keds.”
“You’ll p-p-perspire.” She looked faint.
“I’ll take a shower before bed,” I yelled, slamming the front door and running down the street to where the boys gathered.
A few minutes later Mother appeared, looking very disappointed.
“Mom,” I said, stomping my foot, “I’m 46 years old, let me play!”

CALEB

You see that faded antebellum mansion there? It’s long abandoned but that used to be the whiffle estate. One time, they was the most celebrated family around. You see, the lord blessed them with many children but nary an heir. So they used to have coming out parties year after year. Now they was charming girls, bright and well mannered but they never did marry somehow. They just kept throwing coming out parties.
The last one died a couple years ago left the whole estate for anyone who would bring back those magnificent whiffle balls she missed from her youth.

LAIEANNA

I’m going to vent. If you suffered with my shit on the Valentine’s Special, here’s why.
I was stupidly under the impression it was going to be full of 100 stories. So I asked how many to send, response was “I’ll take as much as you got.” I asked if I should take out the intros or send text copies (Still thinking 100 stories) Response? Nothing! Who’s to blame? None other than Laurence whatever middle initial Simon. Now, I’m not typically mean so if I ever meet Laurence in person, I will throw a whiffle ball right at his head.

HOUSTON KEYS

Marge – Mr. Burns, I need to talk to you.
Burns – Smithers! Who is this saucy blue haired lass?
Smithers – Simpson sir, wife of Homer Simpson in sector Seven G.
Burns – Simpson eh? Fetch the hounds Smithers!
Marge – I can hear you!
Burns – Oh, very well. What is it?
Marge – Well Mr. Burns, my Homie has been having a problem lately. He can’t… You know.
Burns – No, I don’t.
Marge – Well, uh.
Burns – Spit it out woman! These genetically engineered organs of mine aren’t getting any younger!
Marge – He can’t, you know, perform.
Burns – Ah, Excellent. He has “Whiffle Balls.” Fetch me my blue pills Waylon.
Smithers – With pleasure Sir!
Burns – Not for me Smithers! For Simpson!

TED

I got the call at 5am. It’s never a good sign when Don Giovanni sends for you. My heart pounding in my chest, I flagged down a cab and gave my destination.
As I arrived, I wasn’t greeted by the usual niceties I had been used to since I became a made guy.
My last job was easy. All I had to do was grab some whiffle balls and mail them to the Charmin Toilet paper Company.
“I trust you did that which I asked of you?” said Giovanni. “You mailed those guys both of Mr. Whipple’s balls?

TERRANCE

The dogged bounced around my legs with joy. His tail wagged so fast it was a blur. I looked around for the owner but the park was empty.
“Get out of here.” I yelled.
The dog stopped and looked up at me with large brown eyes. It dropped a ball at my feet and barked. I reached down and picked the ball out. I looked at ball and then threw it as hard as I could; the ball few about ten feet before hitting the ground.
“If I find the man that invented whiffle balls, He will eat that ball.”

Susan dropped the dodgeball in the back yard.
“You will be the sun,” she said to it, smiling proudly.
She was going to be an astronomer. Or an astronaut.
Many seven year-olds have those dreams.
Few went to such lengths, though.
Susan looked at her notebook, and placed other balls around the dodgeball to represent planets.
She had to sneak outside of the fence for the whiffle ball Juipter.
A tennis ball marked Saturn sat in the Nelson’s lawn.
The next day, the police found Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto in the street.
They never found Susan. Or her dreams.

Valentines Day Special

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I shot my promo into the air.
Where it would play, I knew not where.
But fourteen arrows came flying back.
I swear, y’all gave me a heart attack
This is the Valentine’s Day Special at 100 Word Stories Podcast, brought to you by… you!
Thanks to everyone who sent in a story.

Sixgun Laieanna from HodgePodge Point.
Ted from Ted’s Podcast.
Patti, the sister of Ted from Ted’s Podcast
Tom from Footnote, who was nice enough to suffer two attempts at an interview.
Justin from Random Thoughts.
Elisson from blog d’Elisson.
Kelly Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
Tabitha from Strangely Literal

(and the Deranged Bard From Planet Z!)
If you’d like, we can do these special holiday editions every so often in addition to weekly challenges if y’all want.
Or not.
Anyway, here’s the stories, and I think you’re going to enjoy the hell out of them:

ELISSON

I was not quite ten when I fell in love for the first time.
We were visiting my grandparents in Miami, where they kept a mountain of old Reader’s Digests. It was in their yellowed pages that I met her.
She was a twelve-year-old Catholic girl from a small Quebec town. My heart melted when I saw her. She had sandy hair and wore glasses. She was adorable, and I fell hopelessly in love.
Hopelessly.
My love would never be, could never be, reciprocated. She had died of leukemia.
Forty-five years later, the thought of her still breaks my heart.

TABITHA

I am happy. After months of searching, fruitless dating and throwing money away at eharmony I have found the love of my life. My boyfriend. He is warm, snuggly, handsome, brave. He likes stirring up trouble and doesn’t mind when I don’t always look my best. He is the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. He can be a bit lazy, but it’s in these times he shows himself truly romantic.
So this valentine’s day I won’t be alone like countless ones before now. I have my cat. Wait, did I forget to mention my cat’s name is Myboyfriend?

TOM

Louie handed Sister Mary Henry a red construction paper heart.
“Will you be my Valentine?”
“I’m your teacher.” Said the Nun.
Louie looked confused.
“I’m a Nun.” She replied.
Louie’s expression remained.
“Louis I am so much old then you sweet boy.”
He was unshaken by all arguments
so the sister took a different tacked.
“I will be your Valentine if you make the same beautiful heart for
all the other children.”
30 years later Cardinal Louise LaCore receive his noble for his work in Africa Sister Henry stood by his side in hand
a frail construction paper heart.

KELLY BURT

Love can be questionable for some and absolute for others. It can be shortly defined or if you are lucky–often demonstrated.
For me, love is not an item to be wrapped with bow and displayed for all to judge its worth. It’s the unexpected kiss, a wink from across a crowded room. It’s really having the valentine feeling on any day of the year. It’s the way my “valentine” makes me feel. So, here we find ourselves at yet another commercial holiday. Thankfully, I find myself loved and not at the return counter of lost love. Thank you, Russell.

PATTI

Valentine’s Day was different on Earth; she was still trying to get used to it. Red hearts, candies, flowers. It made no sense. What did this all have to do with The Valentine Day?
She grew wistful remembering home. How the single men would prepare for weeks with a diet of raw vegetables and fresh corn. On the special day, a man would produce the most beautiful dung mound, wrap it in brown paper, and leave the package aflame on his intended’s doorstep. It was all in good fun, but plenty of matches made in heaven started that way.

TED

She told me she wanted it to be a “special” Valentines Day. She said she was ready to give me her heart. Honestly, nobody had ever really done that before.
How would I handle that? I mean, I believe that for someone to truly give their heart to another person, well.. It MUST be love. Real love.
How could I say no? Hadn’t I been waiting for this my whole life? I gladly accepted her gift to me. The time had come. She was ready, I was ready. With eager anticipation, I took her heart.. With a fucking chainsaw…

JUSTIN and AMANDA

So, what you want for valentines day, hon?
I dunno
How about chocolate?
No. I look like a cow as it is!
If so then you’re the sexiest cow I’ve ever seen.
Whatever.
Hey, I think that’s our song! Care to dance?
Why not.
Steve?
Yes, Tina.
You don’t have to get me anything. These last seven months have been amazing, Having you is all I could ever want.
You sure?
As sure as I can be. Just come over to my place and DON’T bring the video camera this time.
As long as you promise you won’t moo.
Deal.

HOUSTON KEYS

I’m the banjo playing midget Laurence keeps in his basement. I have a confession to make.
Everyone thinks I hang around here to read the literary masterpieces submitted every weekend. Does anyone think I want to read any more of that crap Houston writes?
What kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like a string of islands from downtown. The goofball lives in Dallas. How stinking confusing.
I’m here for my one true love, Laurence Simon.
“I love you midget.”

Weekly Challenge #43 – Staff Of Life

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Welcome to the forty-third 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 Elisson from blog d’Elisson, and it’s Staff Of Life.
Eight stories were submitted this week. We’re melting! Melting!
No rookies joined in, but a few recent rookies have been making up for absent veterans… yay!
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):

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!

The full text of each story:
ELISSON

For years, the magazine was Required Reading in almost every American home.
It became a national icon after adopting its new photojournalism format in 1936. Covering everything from the momentous to the mundane, its renowned photographers – Edward Steichen and Alfred Eisenstaedt among them – filled its pages with Pulitzer prize-winning pictures.
But now it was 1972, and the tastes of America had changed. Sales plummeted.
Henry Luce called his employees in to give them the bad news. He couldn’t afford to pay them.
How ironic, he thought. It simply took too much bread to maintain the staff of /Life/.

TOM

I pretty much lived at the Staff of Life for three years. The bakery was owned and run by surfers, thus an extremely loose work ethic. When Wayne and I took over the shipping operation our Chicago ways rattled the Santa Cruz sensibilities. We worked 14 hours shifts and once we craved out a work space we guarded it violently. It wasn’t uncommon to see signage saying “Touch this and die.” And “Put anything on this shelf we’ll break your fucking fingers.” We were bad asses in the land of pauchlee. Where we walked whispers, “There goes Mr. Bad Vibes.”

TERRENCE

I bet you don’t know this but I have been written out of the book.
That’s right me, Raoul have been written out. I bet you’re wondering
why?
Well, back in the day, I was the only one that had one and I knew how
to use it. I had that little lady hanging off my finger. One day,
after our encounter, I gave her a snack. Well that little tramp took
one bite and ran off to share it with him. This upset the guy
upstairs and after throwing them out, he gave every man the staff of
life.

LAIEANNA

“Here’s the primary part of our facility.”
“Quite an establishment you guys developed.”
“We had to change with the times. There are a lot more people in this
world than when we first started and we’re not getting any younger.
It just became to much for the three of us to handle. Our staff is
fully trained in each of the duties, and we offer a great benefit for
our employees.”
“You mean benefits.”
“No, benefit…immortality. What more do you need?”
“Oh! Do I qualify to work at Fates Incorporated? I always wanted to
put people’s lives into my hands.”

CARRIE

My name it aint nothing, said Moses when God asked him to lead the children of Israel out. Zipporah quickly zipped off Gershom’s foreskin to appease Him, and saved the day. Moses threw his staff onto the floor, it turned into a snake. Pharaoh’s magicians did the same- He took the staff of life and hit the Nile. Blood everywhere. The magician’s copied. Moses stretched out his staff over the waters, frogs covered the land. The magician’s copied. Then flies, boils, hail, dead sheep. “Why can’t we do that,” cried the magicians.
“See what you can do when God’s on your side.” Replied Moses.

K NINE

“Guardian Angel Number Three reporting… That was a
close one”
K-nine had almost stepped out in front of a speeding
cab, but then had to stop to scratch his ankle at the
curb. As he blissfully wandered down Austin’s 6th
Street, Angel Five made him crave a hamburger just
before he bought a ptomaine tainted hotdog from a
street vendor. Angel Two arranged for a huge biker to
walk back into a bar before K-nine winked at said
biker’s girlfriend. Angels One and Four rested before
their shift. It was a tough job being on this
particular Staff of Life.

CALEB

Once a year they square off in secret, The Staff of Life Magazine and the Staff of Life Cereal. The game they play is ancient and deadly, similar to soccer or rugby but played with a human head.
The prize? The winners win the Staff Of Life Staff Of life trophy. They also get to sacrifice and eat the flesh of the losers.
They used to just play for beers after the game but ever since Mikey grew up and became team captain it’s gotten increasingly gruesome. You know Mikey, he’ll eat anything. He likes it. He really likes it!

KELLY BURT

It’s never good when a child realizes that they are cooler than an older sibling, but for Katie, it was mortifying.
She never knew of this less-than-attractive life her older brother lived. She didn’t know that there were secrets that should have been kept.
She won’t ever forget the scene set before her. The dice, books, and was that a G.M.? Alas, what will be etched in her memory forever is her brother pretending to resurrect a dead elvish maiden, “Live damn you. I call upon the Staff of Life.”
“What a geek,” said Katie, shaking her head.

“Give us now our daily bread,” chanted the room full of monks, heads bowed over the tables in the dining hall.
One stood up. “Johnson got a high score in DDR last night!” he shouted.
All the other monks stood up and cheered, and Johnson was raised to their shoulders in a victory lap around the dining hall.
The abbot thumped his cane on the floor and scowled at the raucous mealtime disruption.
The cheering stopped.
“Return to your seats!” growled the venerable leader.
He’d have to bust some seriously wicked moves to get the honor of high score back.

Weekly Challenge #42 – Toothache

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Welcome to the forty-second 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 Elisson from blog d’Elisson, and it’s Toothache.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Aww…. single digits!
Two rookies joined in… yay!
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):

The full text of each story:
ELISSON

Norman woke up, the side of his face feeling like a Mack truck had run into it.
Crap, he thought. I’m gonna have to see a dentist pronto.
It was his own damn fault. He had indulged his sweet tooth mightily last week.
It began with a cream tangerine. Then, the Montelimar.
He loved the ginger sling (with a pineapple heart), followed by a coffee dessert.
What was better, the cool cherry cream or the nice apple tart? Perhaps the coconut fudge.
But that Savoy truffle was the last straw. Shit. Now he’d have to have them all pulled out.

MARK FROM HOUSTON

“This is tough,” he said, scratching his head.
He’d already missed two topics since his debut. This was his grand re-entrance. It had to be good. It had to be better than good.
The others might have real stories this time, something serious, even. Not just an exasperated monologue railing against some goofball-topic.
“You can make a real story using this one. It isn’t ‘fecal matter’ or, egad, ‘horbrgorble…'” he shuddered.
“I can do this!” he declared.
He put the pen to paper, writing slowly, with purpose.
He had his title. It was a start: “Toothache of a Lame Tale”

BRANDON

He knew that eating the canolis from Vinny’s would give him a toothache. But he didn’t care.
And why should he? It’s a freaking canoli!
From Vinny’s!
Six hours later, he was in agonizing pain.
“Oh, why couldn’t I have stopped at the chocolate cake and cappuccino?” He screamed.
Fortunately, there was a dental office at the end of the shopping strip. With TV’s on the ceiling.
He could get his toothache tended to while killing time watching a movie. Like, say, a horror flick.
Imagine getting your teeth worked on while watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre

TOM

Hannibal bit down hard on the census taker. Damn that hurts. He questioned his choice of entrees. Buffalo Bob Burgers might have been less taxing on his k9s.
“Benjamin be a dear and pass the Chianti,” alanulated the doctor The pain in his mouth caused him to slurp the wine. If it hadn’t been for Jamie’s fava beans the evening would have proven to tedious.
Raspail wore the chestnut Catherine Martin to which the doctor replied ” love your suite.” Later Lector’s toothache was trumped by Benny’s headache. Jamie’s consuming need to get a head could get under your skin.

ANDREW

“That fucking hurts don’t it?” His companion asked a bloody stupid question annoying the man obviously in pain.
“Well of course it bloody does I have just lost a tooth because I was smacked in the gob by someone trying to get away from the police.”
“Ah don’t worry you are a have-a-go hero…you face slowed ‘im down enough the coppers got ‘im.” His friend said jealously. “I can see the Sun headline: A tooth hero!”
The man with the toothache saw the press-pack bearing down on him. He didn’t know whether to run, pass out or just enjoy it.

TERRENCE

I blinked, my heart still pounding in my chest but, I was regaining my thoughts. The smell started off faint but quickly grew. You know the saying “having the crap scared out of you”? Well, I don’t know who he was or how he did it, but here I am lay in an alley with the crap scared out of me.
I stood and looked around; at least no one else was here to see this. I took a step and before I knew it my hand was on my check.
“Oh great, and now I have a toothache too.”

RAHEL

Theresa was frightened. Phrases like “oral surgery” can be pretty scary for a nine-year-old. But she faced the dentist bravely and told him, “Do what you need to do.”
When it was over, her parents took her home to bed. Theresa staggered up the front walk, holding onto her mother’s hand.
Suddenly a black-and-white cat darted in front of her. Pain and grogginess forgotten, Theresa sank to her knees and began to pet it. Then she looked up at her parents with a glance first of entreaty, then of pure astonishment.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said.
The cat purred.

TED

I’ve read everything I could get my hands on. Learned all I could about the art of self dentistry.
One little kernel of unpopped corn, along with the momentum of chewing, and Blammo! I don’t know what I did exactly, but it hurts like a bitch!
I can’t justify the cost of a dentist, so my trusty Black and Decker cordless job will have to do the job.
OK, #45 drill bit, and wood putty should be about all I need. There is a little rust on the equipment, but I don’t mind. Oh yeah, I can’t forget the Tequila.
Here goes….

KELLY

There she sat, smiling so sweetly, looking as if you could hand her crap, and she’d have acted as though you gave her the world. She was the picture of some storybook princess, walking through the forest, singing with the animals. Yuck! About that time, my last straw snapped. I could not take this hippy-dippy, make-love, give-love shit anymore. I could not take one more minute of it. If I’d been made to listen any longer, I would have committed an inhuman act. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “Please shut up, you are giving me a toothache.”

A bent gear and a warped comb were sitting in a dentist’s office, both nursing awful toothaches.
“I hurt all around,” said the gear. “I should go first.”
“No, I should go first,” the comb moaned. “I have many more teeth than you.”
They argued for a minute. Then, the door opened, and a horribly snarled zipper walked in.
The comb and gear winced at the sight of the mangled zipper and agreed that it should go first.
“Of course I should go first,” said the zipper. “My appointment was an hour ago, but I kinda got stuck in traffic.”

Weekly Challenge #41 – Fecal Matter

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Welcome to the forty-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 this week was supposed to be selected by Andrew Ian Dodge from Dodgeblogium, and it’s fecal matter.
Eight stories were submitted this week. Single digits… boo!
One rookie this week!
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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… I still haven’t decided what it will be, but I will be sending them one.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
ANDREW

“Fecal matter?” Gasped the senstive 100 word writer, “what the hell is
that Andrew playing at?”
“Well fecal matter is another name for shit, or rather crap which is,
of course, the name of the host-blog.” Replied her friend on IM.
“But fecal matter what kind of crap theme’s that?”
“Exactly…”
“No!” replied the exasperated writer, “I have my reputation. What
would my readers think of such a tale?”
“That you are a good sport? Happy to take the subjects whatever they might be?”
“After all Andrew has to deal with the lame subjects you come
up with.” He replied.

TERRENCE

Raoul walked down the street from one pool of light, shining down from
a streetlight, to the next. His hood was pulled up and he looked down
at the ground as he passed the occasional person on the street. He
turned down a dark alley and stopped quickly when a large man appeared
pointing a gun at him.
“Hand over your wallet.” The man ordered, shoving the gun towards him.
Slowly, Raoul raised his hands and removed the hood from his head.
The man took one look at him, dropped his gun and filling his pants
with sh…… fecal matter.

TOM

Nichols Flamel roared with laughter “Je n’y Fourche crois pas” he snorted. His ilk had tried everything silver iron lead ivory mahogany polar ice.
The translation on transmutation by the Moroccan rabbi proved ironic beyond belief. “It’s not a goose egg,” he chuckled glazing at the Hebrew text.
Over the next month he had purchased every goose in Paris. The stench was over powering even by Parisian standards. The next year Nichols Flamel was the riches man in all Europe.
His alchemist brothers had taken the wrong path fixating on density and noble elements. Who’d guessed gold from fecal matter?

ELISSON

In the Land of Looxembourg, Fecal Matters were adjudicated by the Duke of Dookie.
He did not come to sit on his throne by noble birthright alone. He had studied Excremental Existentialism at Poopoo University – where the official Pootball Team Cheer was “Squeeze another touchdown out for Old Poo U!” – receiving his Dooktorate in Defecation for proving that shit, in fact, exists. De Facto Defecatio.
Now he was faced with a difficult case. A Stool Pigeon had caught the Vice-Chancellor adulterating his turds with Undigested Corn, a felony.
The Duke did his duty. “I sentence you to die…arrhea!”

TED

It’s a shitty world!
It seems that everyone is trying to take the fun out of everything these days. You can’t blow smoke in a babys face anymore, and it’s considered “insensitive” to torch a bag of dog poo on your neighbors front porch. Even that Lawrence Simon guy keeps saying that Podcasting DOT is full of crap! What the hell is DOT anyway, and why would you want to Podcast it?
Ah, well. Sometimes you just have to say “what the hell?”
I guess when all is said and done, it doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t fecal matter..

RAHEL

Bithia bent to her task. Like all royal children, she must serve in a temple, and today her job was to empty the litter pans.
Examining their contents, she smiled. Praise Bast, no more worms! Her formula had worked.
Outside, a whip cracked and a man groaned. Bithia’s eyes filled. “Lady Bast – or any god who may be listening – please put an end to that,” she prayed. “If only I could do so myself.”
Her work done, she summoned her maids. “I need a bath,” she said, leading them to the riverbank …
… for a dip that changed history.

MARK

His first creation looked just like Richard Nixon. “I am a sculptor,” he thought. Later, controlling hue and texture with diet, he produced other masterpieces: Beyonce, Rodman, Condoleezza. Artistically, busts worked, but abstracts just looked like piles of crap. He imagined himself the founder of poopism, the creator of fart art.
Eventually, he discovered, with beet-red hair, a corn-pearl necklace, and a greenish dress covering smooth brown shoulders, a perfect Lindsay Lohan. His wife would have to admit to his genius. He called out for her. She arrived just as Fluffy escaped, followed by the whoosh of the toilet flushing…

LAIEANNA

“Just two drops a day and one release a month. Yes, folks, you can now have relief from constant bowel movements with no side effects. Guaranteed! This is the bonafide real deal. Our remedy comes with all synthetic ingredients and is at low, low price. Step right up and see your life change forever.”
He was good and everyone bought his wares. Instructions were followed and life did change. A month passed, to the day, and every used toilet exploded. The town was flooded, burying everything. The salesman smiled and went back to his sales at the next sinning city.

Two monkeys walk into a bar.
The bartender asks the first one: “So, what will you have?”
The first monkey says “I think I want a banana daiquiri.”
So the bartender mixes him up a banana daiquiri.
Then he asks the second monkey what he wants.
The second monkey says “I want a beer and a shot.”
The bartender asks the second monkey “Why don’t you want a banana daiquiri? Don’t all monkeys like bananas?”
“The second monkey throws a lump of crap at the bartender. “Yeah, I like bananas, but not all monkeys are daiquiri-drinking faggots like him.”

Weekly Challenge #40 – Starting a new job

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Welcome to the fortieth 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 supposed to be selected by Rahel from Elms In The Yard, and it’s starting a new job.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
Two few rookies joined in… yay!
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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s going to be the fridge magnets, which I still need to order. Stay tuned.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
KELLY

Lilly winced. “This is absolutely the worst,” she thought. The body in front of her was cold–just a number now.
She just had to have a change. Insurance Adjustor wasn’t good enough. “Ha! Who says?” ran through her mind.
She didn’t know anyone who had every done this before, but Lilly was adventurous.
“Was this decision wise? Well thought out?” she began questioning herself. Bad sign. This was just her first job in the field. “Yikes! I can’t start this shit. I have already committed the murder. Now time to clean up. Next time will be better for sure.”

ANDREW

Looking at used condoms, odd stains and used toilet paper strewn around all next to an overflowing turd-filled toilet, Matt flinched.
“You don’t expect me to fuckin’ clean that?”
“Yeah I do that is what I am paying you for…” replied his manager with him on the first day.
“I never signed up to clean no bloody loos!”
“What the hell did you think it was for £25 an hour wih no need for qualifications?”
“It said Environmental Standards Officer!” screeched Matt slightly worry the men around him..
“Well he can clean me for £25!” lisped a man behind him.

ARTIE

“Hello, Bernie here. I am a polar bear at the North Pole, and this is, Sally. Say hi, Sally.”
“Hi!”
“Sally’s shy, so I’ll be doing most of the talking. I’m sure being addressed by a polar bear and penguin is surprising, but things have changed a lot up here. Recent expeditions confirm that Ice is melting here at an unusual and unprecedented rate. Something has to be done to reduce the greenhouse-gas emissions induced by humans. A ladder would be helpful, but if things don’t improve we’ll need a stairway to heaven. Please help us. Say goodbye, Sally.”
“Goodbye.”

GEORGE

Well, I suppose it’s normal to be nervous on the first day.
I still can’t believe I got the job.
But it was made for me.
If my ex could only see me now, the big bad ex marine.
What is that they say about always faithful?
Well, if that was so, we would still be together.
And always making fun of me, do you know which end to point at the target?
Look, its Jackie in pink saffron. It is her color, much better than red, which can just murder you. Now deep breathe and slowly squeeze the trigger.

TOM

“Barnett you’re with Ralph”
Staring a new job was never a problem for Josh or maybe it was just the selection of jobs that never took much trailing.
“You gots to do three things right every time,” said Ralph.
“Take the spring clamps and pin the vinyl round the rails.”
“Lock all four wheels.”
Ralph paused and shot Josh a no-nonsense glare.
“Never stop rolling.”
They pulled the gurney next to Mrs. Wade’s couch.
Wheels, clamps, roll, roll.
“DON’T STOP.” Yelled Ralph
Too late.
Mrs. Wade tore in two falling into Josh’s lap.
He screamed. He screamed a lot.

ELISSON

In my new job, I’m what you might call a specialist.
My profession is not noted for being selective about its clients. “If you got the dime, I’ve got the time” is the order of the day for most of my colleagues. Me, I’ve got standards.
My customers are all in the pipe and fixtures business.
Hey, it makes sense. The guys have plenty of cash – hell, they make more than surgeons. And they have needs.
I have needs too. My new job helps pay for my “medication.”
I’m not just a crack whore. I’m a plumber’s crack whore.

HOUSTON KEYS

I got a new job. It’s not like I changed employment. I’m a hit man. Same career, just different jobs.
Neb “The Neck” met me in the alley.
“I’ve got a mole in my outfit. I need you to eliminate him.”
“Who is he? I asked.
Neb handed a photo of an orange cat in a ridiculous clown collar to me.
“Sam price as always?”Neb asked.
“No, double it,” I replied. “For a job this ridiculous I need something extra.”
“What’s so ridiculous about the job?” asked Neb.
“Get real,” I said. “You want me to whack a mole.”

RAHEL

George is a good sort. He used to be in charge before I came, but he’s semi-retired now. Just likes to sit in the sun and dream. Well, he deserves a break–he put in his time, about fifteen years, I think.
Lately he’s been giving me pointers. “Don’t catch them all at once, kid,” he told me. “You have to give them time to reproduce. There’s a balance in nature, see. And you don’t want to make yourself obsolete, either.”
I’m going to listen to George. And I’m going to be the best mouser this farm has ever had.

LISA

Sean was thrilled to get a shipping and receiving job at the new plant opening in his town.
He’d made some new friends, learned all the ins and outs of the job, was working overtime and making good money. It was a huge relief his new boss hadn’t checked out his references.
When the boss came back late one night because he’d forgotten something, he learned (graphically) the reason why Sean was “let go” from his last place:
Sean and the cleaning lady, Margaret, were living out his favorite fantasy: wild sex in a large box filled with packing peanuts.

LAIEANNA

“I’m so excited to be working with this firm. There were so many different career path opportunities, but this is the one that interested me the most. I took all the courses necessary to do this job like a seasoned pro. Soon, I’ll be recognized and climb the ladder of success. By the way, thank you for taking me through my first day’s route. What location do we go to after this facility?”
“We don’t.”
“My, that’s a lot to collect in one location!”
“Wait till you see your clientèle.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Duho toof fairy!”
“Welcome to the lowest rank.”

The moment the crown touched my head, my new job started.
Not that it’s much of a job, really.
Oh, sure, there’s the ceremonies and interviews, but aside from my time in the Navy, I haven’t done an day’s work in my life.
My primary job duty is to have kids.
Already did that, and they don’t look like they’re going to turn out gay, so I’m sure they’ll have kids, too.
Oh, and I never wait in line, either. But sometimes people yell at me for it: “WHO THE HELL DIED AND MADE YOU KING?”
“My mother,” I say, and I walk in the door.

Weekly Challenge #39 – Illegal Parking

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point, and it’s illegal parking.
Eleven stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
Quite a few rookies joined in… yay!
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):

The full text of each story:
Kelly Burt

Pete had the night planned.
Dinner: check
Dessert: check
Moonlight drive: check
He chose the spot carefully, no homes, no traffic.
Pete had his girl–and a large backseat. He stopped the car.
“So, Pete, what are we doing?” Joan cooed.
“Well, I can’t stand the thought of this evening ending.” Pete replied.
“I understand,” said Joan.
Pete thought, “This is it. I’ve got her.”
But as quickly as he had it, it was gone.
As he slid his hand towards her seatbelt, Joan pulled her badge and stated, “Pete, I’m going to have to cite you for illegal parking.”

Randy Burt

“Park here. I’ll fake a limp.” Jessica barked.
Graham pulled into the blue-lined space in front of the couture boutique and scurried to open the passenger door.
Jessica popped off the seat of the Hummer and onto the ground. The jolt provided just enough space for her darling “Poopsy” to wiggle away.
She gasped, made a concerted effort to shove Graham out of the way, and chased the Chihuahua to the back of the truck..
Poopsy narrowly avoided the Prius that plowed into Jessica sending her Starbucks cup sailing and assuring that she’d never get an ‘illegal parking’ ticket again.

Mark M

The driver spun the wheel, the car slipping on the curving road. He stole a glance into the backseat. He had to hurry.
“There it is!” he yelped.
With one last turn of the wheel, he spun the car into a sideways slide. It jumped onto the cabin porch, smashing carved wooden benches, then skidded to a stop.
The cabin door swung open, banging against the wall. The Ranger rushed out.
“Are you crazy? Driving like that?! And you can’t park here!” the ranger exclaimed.
The driver leaped from the car. “I found this eagle – he’s hurt… maybe ill.”

Caleb

Hey do you sell any maps? I’ve been driving around these backwoods here for hours and I’m completely lost!
Is that your car there?
Who else’s car would it be of course it’s mine!
You ought not park it there.
Why?!? Is there a meter there I didn’t see?
No but…
Am I too close to some intersection?
No but there’s…
Am I on private property?
No but…
Well then if I’m not parked illegally in any way, why can’t I park there?
Well…
What the hell was that?!?
Satellite crash, I told you you ought not park it there.

Tom

Zackz Efrom Paroeshad was
the greatest engineer in the 20 planet consortium.
When outer ring representatives lobby for solar equity
Paroeshad answered with the binary purchase.
Using tackyon streams of
real time and historic nano matter
he had move the second infant sun
3/4 the distance to their system.
Paroeshad knew letting the baby sun sit
in Varsic space would have ramifications.
He was not surprised by the arrival
of the vermilion dispatch.
Without breaking the seal
he opened his ledger.
The fine was always the same,
700 pentillion lidens.
Zackz drew a line through item 23.
Illegal parking.

Laieanna

The car was rented under a pseudo name and off he drove. Five streets over and three lights down, he pulled into an illegal parking spot and parked. Putting on CHIPs sunglasses, a shaggy blonde wig and matching mustache, he waited out his nemesis, watching the clock and smiling to himself. The driver pulled in behind the rental car and glared hatefully through the window. With no other options, they parked and opened the door. There were cheers all around. Before he would pull his vehicle out of the way, Laurence was sure to give bus number 9 the finger.

Andrew

I was being accused of illegal parking by a rather aggressive Nigerian meter-fascist. He was one of those that didn’t understand the concept of personal space. Good oral hygiene seemed to be culturally foreign to the man as well.
I didn’t rise to his aggression.
“You must respect my authority,” he exclaimed, backing away from my glare. He began to backpeddle in an almost panic.
I was about to say, “mind the road” just before he was mowed down by a council lorry.
His body was catapulted over the bonnet and landed in the back with all the rubbish.

Ted

The verdict was in.. He was banned from the park field for life, and boy was he pissed! He deserved better than this! He was, after all, an Eagle! Better than those low life seagulls who had ousted him in a unanimous vote. They were jealous!
He used to rule the park! And they lied about him! They said he would spread disease, just to make the others hate him! He wasn’t sick. His puny subjects had retaliated in the worst way!
Now, never to enter his domain again, he would always be know as.. The ILL Eagle, Park King.

Elisson

By the year 2032, advances in medical technology had made organ transplantation practically foolproof.
No longer did patients take anti-rejection drugs for a lifetime, waiting for their new organs to fail. One shot was all it took. Everything but the brain could be transplanted; lifespans of 135 years became common.
Only problem was, not enough raw material. Cloning might’ve helped, but the religious right killed that possibility. Then came the Anticrime Omnibus Bill of 2037.
All of which explains why Stewart, who had just received his third parking ticket, was headed for the organ banks.
Fucking parking meters, he thought.

Russell Burt

When the aliens landed, we followed their command to “take us to your leader.” We decided that they probably meant the mayor of our little town. The meeting went extremely well, and the aliens walked out of the mayor’s office promising that on their next visit they would bring back a fuel source that would ensure there was never an energy crisis on Earth again. Then they returned to their ship to find that they had been ticketed for parking in front of a hydrant. They hopped aboard, charged up their laser cannons, and burned the town to the ground.

Fran couldn’t believe she’d gotten a ticket for smoking a cigarette, inside her own car, while parked within 10,000 feet of a school.
Heck, just last week they passed a law saying that if you walk around your house naked in front of your own children that’s pornography and worth 30 days in jail.
Damn those ‘protect the children’ groups!
You can’t do anything anymore!
“Illegal parking, huh? How much is that?”
” I’m sorry ma’am. I’m gonna have to give you another ticket.”
“For what?”
“You should have said ‘undocumented’. It’s against the law to use the word ‘illegal’.”

The Autobots took a while to adjust to earth culture.
Bumblebee pulled by the side of the road, took a nap, and woke up with an odd metal disc attached to his tire.
“What’s this?” he asked the police officer who was sticking a slip of paper under his wiper.
“It’s a boot,” said the officer. “You parked in front of a fire hydrant.”
Bumblebee transformed, crumbled up the ticket, and pulled out his laser rifle.
Ratchet’s still trying to reattach his foot.
The Decepticons adjusted easily to earth culture: they just blew shit up and killed people.

Weekly Challenge #38 – A Kiss

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by Tom from Footnote, and it’s a kiss.
Eleven stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
A rookie this week… Simon H joins the fun!
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):

The full text of each story:
LAIEANNA

The princess passionately kissed the seaweed, only to come away with a rash. She bent for a pucker upon the rock, tripping and bashing three teeth. The thistle left it’s love with scratches on her face and a snail’s secretions caused bumps to surface around her lips. The dog was less receptive, taking a chunk from her chin. Then the skunk freaked at her affection, spraying her with a rather potent stench.
“I told you not everything turns into a charming prince,” the king scolded before handing her over to her new husband Prince Barftog of the Northern troll clan.

SIMON H

“‘A kiss?’ the Roman said. ‘Can’t you just tap him on the shoulder?’
‘No’ he replied, ‘No I can’t.’
‘But we know him. We can get him ourselves, keep you out of it! ‘
‘No, I want to do it.’ How could they understand the years of frustration? The look of those parable telling lips?
‘But this is history! You want to be famous for kissing a man?’
‘A kiss will just look better alright?’ He straightened his robe and breathed deeply. ‘How do I look?’ he said.
And with the mob close behind him, he walked into the Garden.”

CALEB

Moonlight and Love songs never out of date? Ha. Don’t make me laugh.
Ever since the Lycanthrope Plague of 2037 when we had to blow up the moon, those old love songs just serve as a painful reminder of science gone wrong.
Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate? More like nano-bots full of cholesterol dissolving enzymes and oxygen re-circulators to keep us from strangling on this thick grey polluted air.
And yet, in all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, when I’m loaded I find myself telling my subcutaneous audio matrix, “Play it, S.A.M.”

TOM

He gave him a peck on the check then whispered the following into the rabbi’s ear. “There’s a bounty on your head for your rather indecorous act in the temple”
“How much?” inquired Jesus
“30 pieces.” Said Judas
“30 pieces!” yelled Peter
“We got 60 for half the damage in Damascus.”
Soon all the apostles were bitching and moaning about the take.
Jesus raised his hand they all fell silent.
“Everyone knows their positions in Gethsemane?”
The shills nodded.
“And Judas try to make the kiss more convincing this time.
Caiaphas may be a mark, but he’s a shroud mark.”

CAROLINE

During the summer of 1964 while camping at a place called ‘Eels Foot Inn’ his family arrived, our eyes locked. Jack was my age.
Strangely, both families pushed us together throwing out the water, telling us to get more. Minding not in the least and giggling childishly off we went. At 15 and very slow courting, the days were flying by. Myself both shy and waiting anxiously. One day with tension rising while sitting on a bench overlooking the river he turned to me “may I kiss you?” The sweetest most innocent kiss of my life never to be forgotten.

ANDREW

Sealed with a kiss a phrase that’ll haunt me until my demise.
“It’s just a kiss,” I thought to myself. “What harm could that do.”
Little did I know I had a sealed a pact with She Who Must not be Named an entity as ancient as she is evil from a distance and dimension unfathomable to most men.
I kissed her for that age ole’ reason. She must’ve taught the sirens their tricks for she is the first of all evil seducers.
“‘Paradise’ indeed… Meatloaf mate`” I mused.
A kiss for the abyss was what it was. It came.

RUSSELL

I don’t date goth girls anymore, and here’s why.
We sat on the couch. She was dressed entirely in black, of course, with her face whited-out, wearing enough eyeliner to sink a battleship.
It didn’t matter, I wanted her–bad, and had been getting nowhere for weeks, now.
I decided to go old-school this time. “Give me, a kiss to build a dream on,” I sang.
It worked.
She leaned in close, put her mouth to mine, and ripped half of my lower lip off with her teeth.
I can’t fault her logic. A nightmare is a dream, after all.

RAHEL

Romeo likes my elbow for some reason. Well, not exactly the elbow–the area just above it. He likes to kiss it for minutes at a time.
I really don’t understand why, but I love Romeo, so I let him do it as much as he wants. Only at appropriate times, of course.
Sometimes the skin above my elbow is red and raw, as though it had been wiped repeatedly with damp sandpaper.
Well, in a way it has.
Yes, I keep on putting up with it. What else can I do? Oh, the things we do for our cats.

ELISSON

Mortimer knew he was dying.
He had traveled to the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa to spread the Lord’s Good News. He had started a school and, later, opened a hospital that offered rudimentary health care to the impoverished natives of his village.
Rudimentary, indeed. They could do nothing there to save him.
He had hit the trifecta, coming down with amoebic dysentery, a monster tapeworm, and, finally, a raging case of cholera that had sapped his last reserves.
To die in your sleep is God’s kiss, Mortimer thought, ruefully.
But to shit yourself to death is God’s Hershey’s kiss.

K-NINE

007 struggled against his restraints until he saw the door handle turn. Into the room slipped Vod Kanockers, a Bulgarian double agent.
“I’m here to help end this” she whispered.
Bond could feel her hot breath as she loosened the ropes holding him to the chair.
She untied him and said, “I know where the remote device is, I’ll take you there, but first…”
Their lips met passionately.
Bond pulled away, “Let’s go.”
Suddenly the room blurred. “What… Why?” he implored.
“That’s for giving my sister the clap, you bastard”
10 seconds later part of London disappeared in a flash.

BROTHER OSRIC

We’re getting out of the car and heading toward her side porch. Side porch, that’s a good sign, right? Her parents won’t be looking out that way.
Good restaurant–sure cost enough–and great movie. It’s gotta be worth more than a handshake, right? Although the feel of her hands, cool, not sweaty… wish I could say the same…
Crossing the grass… Aw, man, I didn’t know they had a dog…
Up the steps…don’t scrape the shoe, that’s not cool, pretend nothing happened…
The porch light went on! Crap. That tears it…
“Motion sensor,” she says, an– mmmmmmmph!
Heaven.

PLANET Z

Prince Charming got word of fresh meat in the forest and hopped on his horse.
He arrived in the clearing, where Snow White’s crystal coffin rested.
What a nice piece of ass, he thought. He liked brunettes.
Too bad about the ugly dress, though.
Not that she’ll be wearing it long.
Charming mumbled the enchantments and felt his lips tingle.
One kiss, and she’d be back to life. Good as new.
And ready to fuck.
Sadly, the spell was temporary. And only worked once on any particular corpse.
Too bad. This one would be worth screwing five or six times.

Weekly Challenge #37 – Football/Referee

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by K-Nine from Dead Dog Walkin’, and it’s football/referee.
Seven stories were submitted this week. Only single digits.
One rookie this week? Yay!
Planet Z is currently in retrograde and reliable communications have not been reestablished.
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):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
TOM

The line surged.
WAPP!
“There’s a flag on that play,” intoned Dan.
On the field the ref squared his legs, rocked back and forth while pumping balled fists Parallel to the turf.
“What the hell does that mean?” crackled Dick franticly flipping through the referee’s hand signal field manual.
“Illegal uses of the groin, number 69”
echoes Billy “The Blind” Baxter head referee.
“That’s got to hurt America’s Team.”
“Yup, Carl “Steel Cojones” Clayton really stuck it to Oscar “Wienerman” Wilde.”
“That’s a 7.5 yard penalty.”
“I thought it was longer Dick?”
“No Dan shortest personal penalty in the game.

BROTHER OSRIC

“…that Rod Usher, Ulthar State cornerback, is today’s game MVP!” Cheers thundered throughout the stadium.
Phyllis hugged her sweetheart. “Go on, baby. You deserve it.”
“No,” Rod protested. “You come too. You’re my inspiration; I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She smiled. Together they mounted the platform, where Rod shook hands with the opposing team’s captain. “Good game,” mumbled the latter.
“Thank you,” said Rod, plunging the ceremonial dagger into the other’s abdomen and slashing upward. He reached in and extracted the heart, but instead of taking the first bite he offered it to Phyllis. “My inspiration,” he repeated.

LISA

Judy had it. When Fred forgot their anniversary and spent it watching football with the guys, she decided it was time to extract some “Football Widow” revenge.
A bad call in last week’s game had Fred bitching all week about that “idiot referee”. Judy decided to use this, after learning that very referee would be officiating the game they’d be attending together on Saturday.
During half-time, she made her way to the referee’s change-room, and as she was scoring her own “touchdown” with the offending ref, the reporters came in with a live-feed to the JumboTron for an interview.
Perfect.

CALEB

I went to the world cup in germany
While I was there I happened to see
A man taking pictures named Drew Carrey
My eyes they boggled till I had to pee
Didn’t he used to be funny
Three shows on TV and lots of money
Now he’s at a football match
With his camera going snap snap snap
I found him at a bar after the game
I learned he sells his pictures under an assumed name
He doesn’t want them to be bought because of his great fame
Drew Carrey has gone insane
The Ballad Of Drew Carrey

K-NINE

Bowl game day at the bar, and all the Miller Lite girls were dressed as referees. Mark walked up to the redhead.
“If I gave you my number, would you call me for holding?”
She barely glanced in his direction, “You’re out of bounds, pal”
Mark suddenly made illegal contact.
In the blink of an eye she whirled. The blinding flash of pain told him that the kick was good.
As Mark lay gasping, he saw her whisper “personal foul” to the bouncers. They dragged him towards the door where Mark was sure there would be roughing of the passer.

ANDREW

I dubbed us the Strangers XI.
The natives on the island the cruiseship birthed at for repairs from a “freak” storm, were keen to play us at the English game. The poor sods didn’t know that most of our side were either ex-division footballers or keen-amateurs. The lads didn’t even mind that the priest was ref.
Not a good ref, ignoring fouls but our lads didn’t care one jot. He couldn’t hide his contempt when we won.
He was incandescent with rage.
As we departed I could hear men’s screams of pain as we headed out to sea…and absolute terror.

LAIEANNA

Old man Jones didn’t know how to handle security when a major football game finally took place in our small town. The professionals pushed him aside so he decided to guard by the sidelines.
When a referee ran out giving signals, the 98 year old man charged down the field. Everyone cheered at the superb tackle. Seems Jones confused the referee with an escaped convict.
The spectacle was such a crowd pleaser that he was allowed one football spike. Unfortunately, it bounced back into his chest and he fell dead from a stopped heart. Still it was a great game.

Who had the best story in the Weekly Challenge #45?
	Tom from Footnote
	Mike from Mike Thinks
	Tabitha from Strangely Literal
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
	Elisson of Blog d’Elisson
	Terry from Never Was
	Patti from Smitty Gal
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	Andrew of Dodgeblogium
	K-Nine of Dead Dog Walkin’
	to4m
	The Deranged Bard Of Planet Z

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Who had the best story in the 44th Weekly Challenge?
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	to4m
	Clayton
	Tom from Footnote
	Patti the SmittyGal
	Caleb from The Black Tie Martini Club
	Andrew from Dodgeblogium
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Ted from Ted’s Podcast
	Terrence from Never Was
	The Mad Bard Known As Planet Z

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Who had the best story in Weekly Challenge #43?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Tom from Footnote
	Terrence from Never Was
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Caroline from Quadra
	Kelly Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
	K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
	The Twisted Bard of Planet Z

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Who rocked the house in Weekly Challenge #42?
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Mark from Blank as a goat
	Brandon
	Tom from Footnote
	Andrew of Dodgeblogium
	Terrence from Never Was
	Rahel Jaskow of Elms in the Yard
	Ted’s Podcast
	Kelly Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
	The Deranged Bard From Planet Z

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Who had the best story for Weekly Challenge #41?
	Andrew Ian Dodge of Dodgeblogium
	Terrence from Never Was
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Ted From Ted’s Podcast
	Rahel from Elms In The Yard
	Mark H. the Spin Doctor
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z

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Who wrote the best story for the fortieth Weekly Challenge?
	Kelly from Come Let Me Whisper
	Andrew from Dodgeblogium
	Artie
	George
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Rahel from Elms In The Yard
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
	Laieanna from Hodge Podge Point
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z

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Who had the best story for the 39th Weekly Challenge?
	Mark
	Kelly Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
	Randy Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Tom from Footnote
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
	Andrew from Dodgeblogium
	Ted
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Russel Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
	b
	The Twisted Bard From Planet Z

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Who had the best story in the 38th Weekly Challenge?
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Simon from Freelance Cynic
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Tom from Footnote
	Caroline from Quadra Island
	Andrew from Dodgeblogium
	Russell from Come Let Me Whisper
	Rahel from Elms In The Yard
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	K-Nine from Dead Dog Walkin’
	Brother Osric from The Scriptorium
	The Mad Bard from Planet Z

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Who had the best story in the 37th Weekly Challenge?
	Tom from Footnote
	Brother Osric from Brother Osric’s Scriptorium
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
	Caleb Bullen from Black Tie Martini Club
	K-Nine of Dead Dog Walkin’
	Andrew Ian Dodge from Dodgeblogium
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point

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