Category: Weekly Challenge

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Jeffrey
• Sho Kyong
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tom
• Jon
• Serendipity
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Morning After
by Jeffrey Fischer

In the 1970s, my parents participated in a monthly bridge game that rotated among houses. The host would put on a record, put out some food, and provide a great deal of liquor. They’d drive home, somewhere between tipsy and plastered – the 70s were groovy, children – and loud enough to wake the kids.

By the sober – and hung-over – light of the morning, the recriminations started. “You should have bid six no trump!” “I clearly signaled to you that I had no spades.”

Bridge games faded away like bell-bottoms in the 80s. So did my parents’ marriage.

SHO

George was a pirate,but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Pillaging and burning was fun, but it didn’t seem like a reliable vocation.
He enrolled in the local Jr. College and took several courses in accounting.
In time George developed great bookkeeping skills and set up shop as an accountant.
Soon he was working for Calico Jack, Henry Morgan and Black Beard.
“Wow” thought George, “this is like plundering with out all the blood.”
Everything was great until Black Beard took a look at the books. They tried George for
misappropriation of funds and made him walk the plank.

CHARLIE

The record, and all the pertinent data, including videos viewed, was inscribed on the granite pedestals of the bridge. A bronze tag was prepared and attached to the bottom of the column. The record was that of all of my personal Facebook history.

Zuck agreed to pay for all the materials, property, and labor. I threatened him with exposing his dicpic from school. If he did not comply, he would surely be embarrassed, and so would his wife’s family.

I was amazed at how much data was in the file. I requested it from FB, and it arrived minutes later.

LIZZIE

Mr. Caramel was surely the one who knew more about everyone else. He noticed every single detail regarding the neighborhood and memorized it thoroughly.
Mr. Caramel could hear his wife chatting languidly with Mr. Granite, that Mr. Granite…
Mr. Caramel decided, right there and then, that he wasn’t going to do anything but enjoy the warm hours of a lazy afternoon. He slowly stretched his neck towards the sun.
If Mrs. Caramel wanted to eat, she could go prepare things herself… or ask Mr. Granite.
He stood on the pole and closed his eyes. Mr. Caramel was a proud seagull.

RICHARD

#1 – Murder!

“Cover it up, I’ve seen everything I need”

The officers pulled the tarp over the bodies, hiding the crime scene from prying eyes; Detective Fredericks sighed. A senseless waste of life… And why?

These two victims brought the total to six: All young supermarket employees, just doing their jobs, brutally murdered in bizarre circumstances.

The first victims, crushed by half a ton of wheatflour; another suffocated – oats forced down his throat. Now these two, stabbed through the heart with corn cobs.

He didn’t know the motive, but Fredericks knew for sure, he had a cereal killer on his hands!

#2 – Pride

Just for the record, I want to make it clear that I’m proud of my kids. Sure they may not exactly have ‘excelled’ in their endeavours, with Joey in prison – for the third time – and Amy banned for life from athletics for doping. And then there’s George, the pirate. Pirate, my arse! He was an undercover cop, until his cover got blown and they forced him to walk the plank!

So, not very good at all at what they do.

But still, I’m proud of them, because there’s one thing that they all do extraordinarily well…

Get caught!

TOM

In the moonlight blood turns black

They found the body under a tarp at the center of the Granite Bridge. The head Detective placed a toe tag on the victim and noted his cursory finding in a small book to record the basic facts. The watch commander asked Reilly a lot of very pertinent questions later that night. “Surely, the perp entered the bridge from the south end,” said Captain Jeremiah O’Brien. Lieutenant Caramel Santiago suggest a counter argument. “Given the marks on the lower section of the bridge it is possible he came up from the river.” All eyes turned to Santiago, she beamed proudly.

JON

My Fair Lady

By

Jon DeCles

The detective found the pertinent record in the corner, under a caramel-colored tarp covered in dust. Surely the builder was simply too proud to notice his error, which was why he wore a tag on his toe down at the morgue, victim of a disaster of his own making. The great span of the new granite bridge had been impressive until the vibration of usage proved it to be weak where it could not afford to be weak. The builder was standing at the base when, like London Bridge, it came falling down. She decided the cold case was closed.

SERENDIPITY

In my profession, we have standard methods for disposing of bodies.

We’ve moved on from acid baths – they take forever, they stink, and there’s only so much acid you can buy before arousing suspicions.

These days, we keep things simple: wrap the body in a tarp, and bury it; or wrap the body in a tarp and throw it off a bridge; some wrap the body in a tarp and weigh it down with rocks, for disposal at sea.

But I’m getting too old for manhandling bodies in tarps.

Although, I make decent money: Manufacturing tarps for the Mob!

NORVAL JOE

Billbert ate his lunch alone, constantly surveying his surroundings like a detective on a stakeout.

Roderick was a grade higher than he and ate his lunch at a different time. Surely, they were unlikely to cross paths at this time.

The pertinent question was how was he going to get home after school without getting beaten up?

Maybe he could tag along with some of the kids who lived in his neighborhood. Would Roderick confront him with witnesses to record the event?

Then he realized. He could take the bus. Crammed in like sardines Roderick wouldn’t get close to him.

PLANET Z

It has been a record-setting year for people jumping off of the bridge.
Leonard with the Park Service has his electric cart ready with a tarp when we spot someone going over the rails.
Ricardo handles evenings, and Paco handles weekends.
For a while, they kept score in the breakroom.
Someone complained to the director, and they wiped the board clean.
When the electric cart runs low on power, they plug it in to charge.
But sometimes they forget, and they try to run out with the tarp.
It’s too heavy to carry. They end up dragging it out there.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Jeffrey
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Jon
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

I’ve never been a camper. Sorry. Once at a party in Frisco, I dressed up as a chubby daughter of Lesbos for a high camp fest that my art school threw.

High camp was in at the time. My aesthetic was a form and demonstration of inverted attributes of beauty, value and taste. “Camping it up” was the strategy for the whole weekend. My friends still talk about it.

Today, many years later, my taste in camp is confined to reading The National Enquirer, watching Cuban pop singers, and watching lustless porn with the sound turned off.

Lifetime NRA Member.

#2

Camping usually is family affair with my family. We pack two, unmuffled, diesel generators, the dogs and the miniature pigs, and the large screen TV and stereo gear. We bought six air mattresses and a motorized hammock that can hold the whole family.

Target practice, archery, lawn darts, naked volleyball, and a portable Sanikan take up the rest of the room in the utility trailer. The Sanikan is pumped out by the local plumbing shop twice a week. We have plenty of hot water due to the propane heaters and storage tanks.

We relish the flash pictures of Mother Nature.

RICHARD

Camping

I hate camping!

Ever since trips to ‘The Great Outdoors’ as a youngster, I’ve loathed anything to do with tents, sleeping bags and portaloos… How anyone can enjoy that sort of thing beats me!

It’s cramped, cold, everything smells musty, and the slightest hint of rain means that everything will remain damp and uncomfortable for the duration.

Then there’s the bugs and all the other unpleasantness that others pretend to enjoy.

Not me though. I’ll stay in a hotel with a decent bar, a comfortable bed, room service and air conditioning.

Or, better still, why bother? I’ll stay at home!

LIZZIE

“It’s cold and I don’t even like camping.” And Annie slammed the door behind her.
Why did Annie have the final word about everything, thought Paula.
A pair of curious eyes looked inside the house.
Why couldn’t they go camping in the winter? They just needed a few extra sweaters. And besides, Paula really wanted to see that stag again.
When she turned around, he was there. She didn’t dare to move. They looked at each other. And that’s how the word camping took on a completely different meaning, as the stag came back for a visit every day.

SERENDIPITY

A friend introduced me to living under canvas many years ago. He would constantly be extolling the virtues of getting close to nature, becoming one with the environment and living in harmony with the forest.

That’s not the reason I camp out in the wilds and avoid cities and civilisation; my reasons have nothing to do with living as nature intended.

It’s a practicality, as far as I’m concerned – the further from habitation I keep, the less likely the cops will catch up with me.

Together with the added bonus that it’s easy to dispose of bodies out here!

TOM

Nature Boy, Not

I’m not an avid camper. I’m an urbanite. When we travel we expect a mint on the pillow, not a tree root to the spine. “Camping allow you a closer connection to nature.” So does a weekend with Ebola. The only way to get me into the wood, to “CAMP” there had better be a cabin, a bank of electoral plugs, and oh yes, WIFI. But Tom the purpose of camping is to remove yourself from the tyranny of the modern world. Oh and walking 10 miles hauling a 90 pound pack, to dine on freeze dry food is freedom. Nup

JON

No More Camping Trips!

By

Jon DeCles

It was to be an idyllic Saturday. My buddy was coming over and we could watch old movies and opera on the big screen TV. My son, Master of the Media, was to be away with my wife on a camping trip. He normally dominates the usage of the TV, but he assured us the electronics would be free for our use. If need be, my nephew could advise us on how it worked.

We could not turn it on. My nephew could turn it on, but not make it go. His son got us a picture, but nothing more.

TURA

Camping
———
You need less than you think to camp in the wilderness. Who needs a tent? Make your shelter from tree branches. No need to carry food, you can live off the land. As for clothes, a properly trained human body needs only its natural strength. To wander naked with nothing through the empty places is real living, not slowly dying in cities. One taste and you’ll never go back.

That’s what I tell them for $10,000 a day at corporate team-building retreats. And now I have fans who actually do it! I’m almost tempted to try it myself.
———

PHILIP NORVAL JOE CARROLL

Billbert settled down onto the roof of the library. Giddy from escaping the bully he fought the desire to laugh out loud so that he could hear what Roderick said on the ground below.
“Get down here with that bag or I’m gonna kick your skinny butt.”
Billbert considered camping out on the roof for the rest of his life. But why? With his plastic grocery bag, he could fly anywhere.
Making sure to stay out of Roderick’s view, Billbert circled around and landed on the ground near his locker. Safely locking the bag away he hurried to his class.

PLANET Z

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates looked at raids as work.
George looked at them as camping trips.
He’d pack all kinds of things for the raid, such as a portable stove, a change of clothes, and meals ready to eat.
“You don’t need all of that,” said the captain. “Just steal food during the raid..”
This assumed that the pirates would succeed.
Which they didn’t.
George quickly changed clothes and posed as a lost tourist.
The townspeople welcomed him. “Sorry for the mess,” they said “Want to watch us hang some pirates?”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Jeffrey
• Tom
• Jon
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Planet Z

DUANE

You call us old and say we’re weak

You think the boomers are meek.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you,

you should be seen and not speak.

We’re your moms, dads, grandmas and grandpas.

Grew up with swings and seesaws.

We didn’t need helmets and pads,

or playground safety laws.

You say we spent all your money,

on pensions and social security.

How much did you plan on making,

with your new liberal arts degree?

Some day our role you’ll take on.

You’re gonna miss us when we’re gone.

My last words to you millennials,

everybody just STAY OFF MY LAWN!

NORVAL JOE

Bilbert took a couple steps and jumped into the air. Again, only a weak buzzing from the poket of his backpack and he landed back on his feet.
“That’s pretty weak,” Roderick said. “It’s too bad you made fun of me like that. Now, I’m going to have to beat you up.”
Frantically, Billbert pulled off the backpack and opened the buzzing pocket.
His eyes lit up when he saw the plastic grocery bag. Stepping through the leg holes, he pulled up the bag. Holding on with one hand, he leapt into the air and flew out of Roderick’s reach.

JON

Weak On The Concept

By Jon DeCles

Yesterday I was shopping at Safeway. The cheerful female voice of the omnipresent commercial announcement was burbling on and on about the sandwiches one could purchase in the deli department. I heard in astonishment that one could get sandwiches featuring ‘delicious gluten-free meats’ from the deli case.

People who write advertising copy often have impressive degrees from universities, much like people who copy-edit books for publishers. They are really good at putting the right spin on their words. They are universally weak when it comes to the content of their copy.

I got into hundred word because of gluten-free copy-writing.

TOM

Some Like it Beyond Hot

Allan dipped the spoon into the bowl. “It’s still weak,” he said to Colin. “Well we’ve add both the Red Devil and Green Devil. A mess of chills that would incinerated a goat’s digestive track, and the pepper both Carolina Reaper and Trinidad Moruga Scorpion. What left?” Allan reached up to a shelf containing an unmarked bottle. Dropped an eye dropper down the neck. Drew up a single drop of liquid. “The juice of Pepper X.” “You’re out of your fucking mind, but be it far from me to curtail your insanity. Allan down the sauce. “Not weak,” he rasped

JEFFREY

The Inexplicable Force
by Jeffrey Fischer

Scientists have found four fundamental forces in the universe: the gravitational and electromagnetic forces, and the weak and strong forces. More recently, they have uncovered a fifth force, more powerful than the others.

Ever wonder why hipsters like bad-tasting beer, or overpaying for pretentious-sounding dishes in restaurants? Why are some rich people drawn to the Prius? And how is it that the woman who is clearly out of the guy’s league besotted with him? It’s the inexplicable force! Striking seemingly at random, it becomes the superglue of physics. You won’t find the hipster trying a decent beer or the Prius driver learning that gasoline-powered engines in decent-looking cars are the way to travel.

And Sarah Jane… pure logic says she should dump that schlub of a boyfriend for me, but it never happens. Yup, the inexplicable force in action.

LIZZIE

“My stomach is weak,” she said, a tray filled with amazing food looking back at her.
At the restaurant, they were used to her moaning. But she ended up gobbling it all down.
One day, they dared her to cook. She hesitated, but she wasn’t one to run away from a challenge.
When the insurance company showed up, it was impossible to identify where the kitchen was, and it was nearly absurd to even attempt to tread through the barrier of debris by the front door.
That’s when they heard, “My stomach is weak and now my leg hurts…”

RICHARD

#1 – Weaker sex?

People who say that women are the weaker sex have clearly never met my wife!

That’s not to say she doesn’t ask me to carry the shopping from the car, take the bins out, remove stuck jar lids and do all the heavy jobs in the garden.

Not that you can blame her, after all, I’m six foot three in my socks and built like the proverbial brick outhouse, and I was a professional wrestler in my heyday.

But she doesn’t make me do all those things because I can handle it; she does it because she can handle me!

#2 – Make mine a double

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s my drinks weak.

Weak, insipid, tasteless tea or coffee is a crime against humanity, and there’s nothing worse than being served something undrinkable when visiting friends. I smile, take a sip, then leave it to cool, untouched, at my side.

It’s hard to be polite, in those situations, but I try.

I don’t like my alcohol weak either. Forget the ice and water, forget the mixers: Give it to me straight.

A double, at least.

But then, it’s even harder to be polite.

Probably why I’m no longer invited to friends for drinks!

CHARLIE

Never weak in any way. nor surrendering to any kind of pressure. I’ve survived indigenous people’s wrist burns, and dozens of nuclear wedgies during school gym classes. I still have some pencil lead in my buttock from the pencil Pete Poggi stuck under me as I sat down in chemistry class in the tenth grade.

Today, as an independent business person, I exercise my will and demonstrate my strength. If I get a new client that is a lawyer, insurance man, dentist or doctor, I add fifty percent to the hourly rate when I invoice them for computer network maintenance.

#2

My cousin has a weak mind, and a brittle marriage. Her husband has taken up with a skank he met at his AA meeting. They are both out of work, and they like the weed as much as the gin and Ranier Ale.

She called and asked if I would meet with her. She hopes I will help her “take care” of her old man after she gets a big policy on his life.

I figure that we can do it next time he changes the oil in his pickup. I’d kick the jackstands out, and collect half the policy.

PLANET Z

The strong survive and the weak die.
That’s what my boxing coach always said.
So, when I killed him, that’s what I said to the cops.
Okay, so I punched him after he caught me robbing the gym after hours.
But it isn’t what you think.
He said I could keep the money if I beat him in the ring, bare-knuckles.
Final exam, he called it.
And I guess I passed, because I laid him out with one punch.
Cops didn’t agree. Neither did the judge.
Twenty years.
Now I fight in the prison gym, and the guards place bets.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Planet Z

RICHARD

Vibration

Years ago I owned a car that was fine until you reached sixty, but anything above that speed would cause a noticeable vibration through the steering.

I didn’t think much of it and put it down to the tyres needing balancing, or something similar.

I eventually passed it on to my sister, and forgot all about it.

We were chatting the other day about cars we’d owned, and she referred to it as the one that nearly killed her.

Apparently, she was doing over sixty when the steering wheel came off in her hands!

Lucky escape for me, I reckon!

CHARLIE

I am very sensitive to vibration. I am sensitive to vibrations when working at my desk, or studying. I’ve damped a number of things in the house and car.

I’ve used dense foam, old sponges, wood, cardboard, and other materials to stop the vibration and noise on my heat pump, washing machine and cold air injection on my truck.

A piece of heavy rubber jammed into the space between the washer and the dryer stopped the noise during the spin cycle, thus preventing a seizure and saving me from falling to the floor into a mound of incontinence and spittle.

#2

In the old days, a good vibe was the vibration you got being around someone whose company you enjoyed or cherished. It was the vibe you got by being with them, or an environment that was cool, soothing, and peaceful as they were.

A bad vibration was the one that struck you and harshed your buzz. The buzz could have been an artificially induced high, or the high a person gave you.

A bad vibe should be abandoned as soon as possible and forgotton. It should never be discussed or spoken of, much like the 14 years of my marriage.

PLANET Z

At the age of nineteen, the poet Maya Angelou worked as an exotic dancer.
Just image that.
You probably imagine her as some old lady reading “Why the caged bird sings” or her other works at various events.
Or her work with Martin Luther King. That was important, you know.
But me, I’m trying to imagine her younger self, working the pole at night and sneaking off to church during the day.
Imagine, going to one of her book signings, and telling her that back in the day, you had put a dollar in her g-string.
For her, maybe two.

TOM

My name is blue canary

MY heart beats

Like a tiny dove

The vibrations rising

It’s a song of love

I’m your only friend

I’m not your only friend

But I’m a little glowing friend

But really I’m not actually your friend

But I am

Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch

Who watches over you

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

Not to put too fine a point on it

Say I’m the only bee in your bonnet

Make a little birdhouse in your soul

I have a secret to tell

From my electrical well

Leaving out the whistles and bells

SERENDIPIDY

Can you feel that?

The subtle vibration that causes you to squirm slightly in your bonds.

Are you trembling too, with anticipation of what you think is to come?

Exciting, isn’t it?

But more so for me.

You see, I know you’re the one with whom my husband has been cheating on me.

And this isn’t an ‘erotic adventure’ that he’s set up for your pleasure.

Because I’m no dominatrix.

And that vibration is not the toy you think it is.

It’s a circular saw, and it’s moving steadily closer…

Now, you’re struggling!

And now, you’re sorry.

Aren’t you, bitch?

LIZZIE

The vibration was stronger as the herd approached. They continued to sleep under the giant plant.
The bamboos muttered a strange song, the thumping making it grow more and more intense. They didn’t wake up. They slept on, immersed in their dreams, their huge ears flipping back and forth as if they were awake.
The symbols on the stone became bright, dancing to the rhythm of the bamboo song.
The herd trotted past them and didn’t even noticed they were there.
They opened their eyes slowly. The bamboo became silent and the stone went to sleep under the giant plant.

JEFFREY

Normal Range
by Jeffrey Fischer

The new Metro trains were touted as modernizing the fleet: sleek, eight cars long, with overhead displays of the current and subsequent stations. The trains were also quite heavy.

Homeowners noticed increased vibrations as the new trains passed through the tunnels below their houses. Windows rattled, paintings shifted, and bric-a-brac walked in their displays. Metro downplayed the vibrations, claiming they were within “normal range.” That is, until house foundations began to crack and the occasional house collapsed. Even the transit system’s management had to concede the results were somewhat unusual and undesirable. True to form, their solution was to demand more taxpayer money to “improve” the system.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert wondered why Roderick was accusing him. So, he’d escaped from the tree and foiled the bully’s joke.

Feeling flippant, he said, “Maybe I flew down.”

Roderick made a fist with his other hand. “You better not be making fun of me.”

The boy couldn’t take a joke. Maybe Billbert could impress him, instead.

“I did fly. Come here. I’ll show you,” Billbert said and lead Roderick to the patio off the library. With his backpack still over his shoulders he made to leap into the air.

All that happened was a weak vibration from a pocket of his backpack.

JON

Hardly Any Time At All

By

Jon DeCles

I had been in Second Life a short time. Less than a year. Hardly any time when it comes to getting to know a person. Much less than a year if you count learning all the complex gobbledygook.

I was dancing in a club. My friend was bouncing next to me. Suddenly he explained to the barkeep that he was dead. His avatar was being occupied by his wife, who had never done SL before. He had died of a heart attack, and she came to tell us. Brave and kind of her.

I cried and drank Scotch all night.

Good (and bad) Vibrations

By

Jon DeCles

I like to dance, and I don’t mind feeling the vibration through the floor from the music when I am dancing. But when it is from the apartment upstairs, and I am trying to sleep, it is not a good vibration.

The people upstairs, or downstairs, never respond to polite requests.

I read in Mark Twain about Tesla and his experiments with vibration. Twain talks about standing on Tesla’s machine and feeling very comfortable until he suddenly had to run full speed to the rest room. I built the machine.

Now the vibration ends with the sound of repeated flushings.

VIBRATION

Vibration

“This is the best way to find water. Trust me.” He picked up a limb with a Y in it and held it in both hands.

“When you are over water it will kind of vibrate in your hands like text message” He said. “Then it will point down to the water and bingo!”

He walked in a big circle sweeping the stick back and forth. Whenever the stick pointed down I would run up and dig a hole in that spot. By sundown we hadn’t found any water, but I had six pull tabs and a Rainer bottle cap.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Duane
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

His apartment in San Francisco was hardly larger than the closet he had as a youngster. He paid twenty-five hundred a month rent. Utilities were included, but he shared the bath and kitchen with six other people.

He slept on a shelf, high on the back wall. His clothes were hung on nails, with some of them on pulleys, so he could pull them up to ceiling.

His laptop folded down with the desk from the wall. The small camp stool folded out from the table once it was in place.

He was happy until he found the peep hole.

RICHARD

Dental: Mental!

When I was a child, our family dentist was a very affable and friendly fellow, but even so, I was terrified of him.

To be fair, he tried his best to reassure me whenever I attended the surgery, but usually his attempts were worse than useless.

Take his stock phrase that he’d invariably trot out, prior to ramming a novocaine injection into my gum:

“This is hardly going to hurt… Just like being punched in the mouth!”

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever been punched in the mouth – but it bloody well hurts!

And so did the needle!

LIZZIE

Matt winced. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the huge sign. “Gone Fishing”.
And off he went!
Everything was fine until the neighbor kid noticed he never brought back any fish.
“I ate them.”
The kid wasn’t convinced, but Matt didn’t mind.
In his pocket, he had three gold nuggets. He placed them carefully in the box he hid under the floor planks. He needed a new box. This one was full.
When the kid sneaked inside the house to see what was inside the box, he found a lot of yellowish pebbles.
Matt really needed new glasses!

SERENDIPITY

I’d barely settled down to a cup of tea, when the doorbell rang: It was that idiot woman from across the street, complaining about how I’d parked my car.

I invited her in, and – using all my powers of persuasion – explained why it was perfectly reasonable to park where I did.

You haven’t witnessed my powers of persuasion, but they are very convincing, especially the sharp, pointy one; the dull, rusty one; and the one with the corkscrew end.

Since then, I haven’t heard a peep from her.

Hardly surprising, since her tongue went down the waste disposal!

TOM

That Which is Remembered Lives.

Hardly a day goes by I don’t think about Jack. It gets stronger with the coming of spring, which is when he died. There are some souls that pass into your life with such a lust for life that their absence leaves a gaping hole in time/space continuum. I had things I needed to tell him. Things I’m just figuring out. Come July it will be the 17th time we have made the road trip to Seattle. He would be so proud of how amazing his daughter has grown into an articulate young woman. He just left to soon.

JEFFREY

Hysteria
by Jeffrey Fischer

The gun-grabber march seemed filled with teenage girls engaged in group-think: all were “scared” to go to school. Some held signs asking “Am I Next?” Hardly. The CDC reports an average of 43 violent deaths per year at schools for the decade ending in 2010. 43 may be 43 too many, but the 15 million high school students face pretty good odds. In contrast, the CDC reports 2,333 deaths of 16-to-19 year old teens in road fatalities in 2016, many involving poor decion-making, driving under the influence, excessive speed, and lack of seat belts. If kids truly cared about saving their lives, instead of goofing their way down Pennsylvania Avenue preening for the cameras, they’d march to raise the driving age. Fat chance of that.

NORVAL JOE

“Get to class,” Coach Slaughterball said to Billbert, following the last of the boys out of the locker room.

Billbert didn’t waste any time. The coach had hardly left the room and he was pulling his clothes on.

He shoved the plastic grocery bag into a pocket of his backpack and ran to the office. After turning in the soggy note from the coach, Billbert hurried out of the office and ran into directly into Roderick.

He grabbed Billbert by his shirt. “How’d you get out of that tree? One second your were there. The next second you were gone.”

DUANE

Hardly

I hardly knew Isaac, but since I sat across from him I was asked to give his eulogy. Asking around the office nobody could tell me anything about him, so I lied.

I said Isaac had been a Fuller Brush salesman and draft dodger in the 1960s. In the 70s he taught disco and ran a desert ashram until the IRS raid. He spent the 80s as a cold-war spy.

The local paper printed my tribute and it went national. Since Isaac had no family I received a 100K book advance for his biography and later sold the movie rights.

PLANET Z

On April 7th, Hilda turned to stone.
She’d been walking in the park when it happened.
At first, people thought she was an abandoned statue.
So did the birds.
Hilda’s family recognized her from a photo in the newspaper.
How did this happen?
Was she alive?
Could she be changed back?
Scientists looked over Hilda, but they had no answers.
After a year, Hilda’s family held a memorial.
The city allowed them to put her back in the park.
With a plaque bearing her name.
Some people say she’s creepy.
Kids dare each other to touch her.
Then they run.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Lizzie
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Tom
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Laienna
• Serendipity
• Planet Z

LIZZIE

Sunny Shift

The angel sat on the bench. The sunny day was coming to an end as was his shift. However, he had failed, so he couldn’t understand why he felt so happy. The elderly woman he was supposed to watch over had been hit by a car. The obnoxious teen had jumped in the pool and broken a leg. Even that damn dog someone had placed in his list as a prank had bitten the nosy neighbor. And yet, he felt happy. That’s when he noticed some of the feathers of his wings were taking on an unusual tint of red.

CHARLIE

The hearty, Scotch, Major radioed the order that my platoon must advance straightaway making a wee shift out of the sunny grass into the protective canopy of the dark forest.

We were ordered to take a position so we could attack the five-inch guns that were strategically housed within the giant, concrete, globe emplacements on the hilltop.

I signaled back the requisite “wilco”, and said all was well, and my troops would not fail!

The filthy Huns wouldn’t have butter on their Milchbrötchen this morning, only the blood of their comrades.

We took them by surprise, eating them afterward.

#2

You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.
-Well known idiom.

The condominium board voted to plant butter grass. Not knowing anything about horticulture, Miss Snodblade was put in charge.

Snodblade wasn’t the brightest bulb. She used to be a call girl in Washington D.C. Her claim to fame was her coupling with two of the last presidents and three of the past first ladies.

The butter grass grew an inch a day, and soon the grass was up to the eyeballs of the poor lads that were in charge of lawn care.

The moral here is that you can lead a whore to culture, but you can’t make her think.

RICHARD

Sunny Delight

“‘Ello sunshine! Did you grass me up to the rozzers?”

The expression on ‘Sunny’ Sullivan’s face told me that, whatever my response, he’d already made his mind up.

So, with nothing to lose, I decided to brazen it out…

“Yeah, sure I did. Why, what are you gonna do about it?”

The expression turned from dark to black as pitch, and then, slowly, like the sun rising at dawn, a huge smile replaced the frown.

“Hahaha… You crack me up! Fancy a pint? Wish I knew who it was though.”

I supped on my pint, and calmly changed the subject.

TOM

Grass

My father’s failed attempt at a manicured lawn was legion in our suburban neighborhood. Each spring he’d purchase a small mountain of grass seed and equal mound of fertilizer. Ran that grass spreader machine back and forth for hours. Come the summer the grab grass and dandelions dominated the front-yard.

Now the back-yard was my domain and I peppered it with clove, which meant I did have to mow the sucker. Further due to the exceedingly high water table on our street the back yard was little more than low end swamp. Grass hated the damp, the clove was quite happy

JEFFREY

On a Date
by Jeffrey Fischer

One sunny day I took Sarah to a grassy meadow I had seen driving through the country. Beautiful and deserted, this seemed like the perfect location for a date: a little Wilco on the speakers, a blanket on the grass, my picnic hamper with a little bread and butter, and a decent bottle of wine… how could this fail to take our relationship to the next level?

However, the meadow wasn’t exactly deserted. A wee lamb wandered in our direction, curious about our lunch. “Isn’t she just the cutest?” Sarah exclaimed.

“Yes, but I’m not so sure about daddy’s intentions.” A large ram was moving at speed in our direction. This wasn’t the kind of butter I had in mind. Grabbing the wine by the neck, I raced after Sarah to the safety of the car.

NORVAL JOE

If it hadn’t been such a beautiful, sunny day, the class would have remained inside the gym. Running through the locker room to the blacktop or grass outside, most of the boys didn’t fail to notice Billbert in his plastic loincloth, and many stopped to laugh.
He could leap into the air using his superpower and fly around the room. Then their scorn would turn to envy.
Taking a single preparatory step to launch himself over their heads, he slipped in the water and ended up flat on his back.
“Get your butts outside,” Coach Slaughterball yelled at the boys.

LAIEANNA

“Model Winner”

I was nervous enough about failure, knowing Wilco was judging the
annual art show, but an intense sunny day only raised my anxiety as
the heat did a number on my entry. The wee islands began to shift on
my butter molded globe with the continents not far behind as the
medium started to melt. The tufts of grass representing greener areas
of the world dropped onto the table. To win, I’d have to dig deep in
my well and bring out the groupie in me. Boobs up, skirt short, smile
in place, I waited for the band to arrive.

SERENDIPITY

To look at me, you’d think butter wouldn’t melt… That is, as long as you’re not a criminal psychologist, and you’re looking at the inner workings of my mind, rather than outward appearances.

That’s what most people completely fail to appreciate, despite knowing full well, you should never judge a book by its cover.

Or rather, judge me based on the sweet and innocent persona I outwardly project.

Those who do, and get a little too close will find that there’s a high price to be paid:

And I have no qualms about taking what I feel is rightfully mine.

PLANET Z

Our Aunt Maisy used to say “Love don’t pay the bills.”
She woke up early to milk the cows, then led them back out to pasture.
The cows grazed while she churned butter.
These days, robots and computers do all of the work.
They even harvest the crops in the fall.
For a while, the people who did the migrant field work would try to sabotage the robots.
But the robots would grind them up into fertilizer.
Maisy gave us tracker bracelets.
But when Bobby went to go swimming in the creek…
About six hours ago.
I hope they’re waterproof.

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Charlie Lacrosse
• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Serendipity
• Norval Joe
• Tom
• Duane
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

W. C. Fields, a notorious enthusiast of alcohol, said he didn’t drink water because “Fish f*** in it.” True, but the rest of us don’t mind drinking it if it doesn’t have any additives…like too much chlorine, or fluorides.

I filter all my drinking water for the dogs and myself by using canisters of finely granulated, activated charcoal. Activated charcoal is charcoal that has been heated or otherwise treated to increase its adsorptive power.

I keep pitchers of filtered water on the counter for tea and soup, and a big one in the fridge for cold drinks.

Filter your water.

#2

As a youngster, I used to swim a lot. I swam in public pools, home pools, canals, rivers, creeks, lakes, oceans, and the bathtub. I spent more time under the water than on the surface.

When my cousins came over to swim in our pool when I was in grammar school, I spent the majority of the time under the water admiring the coordinated arms and legs of the girls swimming above.

I confess, I did a lot of watching, and the only touching I did was to myself after they left for the day.

At 88, I still swim.

#3

Water has always been something I have been captivated and enamored with. When a person in a film pours a tall glass of water, drinking it with detachment and showing pleasure, I am very attentive and compelled to do the same at my first opportunity.

Pouring a glass of clear, cool water from a large glass pitcher or a heavy, ceramic container after I’ve gone to the kitchen after a few hours in the summer sun in the garden, is a pleasure without measure.

We take clean drinking water for granted. One in six people do not have this luxury.

RICHARD

H2 No!

Dihydrogen Monoxide… Awful stuff.

So corrosive, it can eat through solid steel and carve its way through rock.

Just a teaspoonful inhaled can kill; you can’t breathe it; and long term exposure causes muscle cramps, exhaustion, delirium and ultimately, death!

It destroys property and wrecks the environment… And that’s just the liquid form. As a solid, it’s treacherous; and in gaseous form it causes pain, blistering and burns.

More addictive than crack cocaine, one hundred percent of people can’t live without it, letting it into their homes without a second thought.

This vile substance must be banned, with immediate effect!

PLANET Z

She put the baby’s corpse in the pillowcase, duct-taped it shut, and then tied the end to a cinderblock.
The fishing boat could get out to where the water was deep enough.
“It’s a science project,” she said. “Currents and stuff.”
“Whatever,” said the boat’s owner. “Seventy bucks cash.”
Two miles out, the boat had engine trouble.
“We’ve got to head back,” said the captain.
“I guess this will do,” she said, pushing the pillowcase over the side, and she was an only child again.
All she had to do was think up a good story.
She’d Google for one.

JEFFREY

Water, Water
by Jeffrey Fischer

People always complain about water. Too little and it’s a drought. Farmers moan about lost crops, homeowners complain about brown lawns and use restrictions. Too much and farmers complain about lost crops, homeowners complain about mildew in basements and flooded roads. We worry that foreign water will cause diarrhea. We complain about taste, color, minerals. That’s the nature of life, I guess.

I thought about those petty whines after my ill-fated skid off the road, as the last few feet of the passenger cabin of my car filled with lake water. Gross, tastes brackish.

SERENDIPITY

Water… It’s wonderful stuff. Readily available, cheap and plentiful, safe to use, but tremendously effective. It’s so much better than many, more obvious, methods.

Take waterboarding, for instance – such a simple technique, but incredibly effective. Quick, easy, and straightforward.

Or if you’re in no hurry and want to enjoy the process, why not go for the good, old fashioned, Chinese water torture? Who would have thought that the simple, steady, drip, drip, drip – inescapable and unforgiving – could break even the strongest will?

And the best thing of all?

Torture can be thirsty work… But not any more!

TOM

Best Laid Plans

The water was still, not a rip lapped the bank. The silver dollar moon mirrored the surface caught the monster’s eye. With an effortless flick of a gnarled claw a small form shattered the moons continence and dropped below the approaching waves. It smiled a smile less triumphant, primal, rimming the edge of some deep millennial evil. Heavy legs moved off towards the village. Innocence in slumber would wake to the corruptible agent of their departure from this world. It licked the nail of a claw with perverse joy. It was only then it saw the flaming sword of justice.

DUANE

Water
—————————————-

I’ve heard it said that in the desert you can’t remember your name. That seemed silly, but after a couple of weeks of wandering I had found it to be true. Your thoughts are filled with sun and sand. Your mind stops noticing the heat and pain at some point and you just keep moving.

I thought I’d started hallucinating, but as I got close there was a man crawling across the sand. He reached out a bony hand to me.

“Walter, Walter. Please Walter.”

How the hell did this guy know my name? I turned around and started running.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert explained Roderick’s prank to the coach.
In an unprecedented break from character, Coach Slaughterball wrote a note and said, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Boys your age can be cruel. Take this excuse to the attendance office so you don’t get in trouble for being late.”

Billbert stood, took the note, and stepped around a puddle of water on the floor.

“What would be more embarrassing than slipping in water while wearing a plastic grocery bag?” He thought.

He found out when the PE class ran through the locker room on their way to the outdoor basketball courts.

Suggested prompt….Intimate

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Richard
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Serendipity
• Jeffrey
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Planet Z

RICHARD

I’ve always said that if you work in any sort of capacity that involves dealing with customers, good communication skills are paramount.

I don’t just mean a decent command of the English language, either – if you’re going to be interacting with paying customers, you need to ensure that you have a clear grasp of what the customer is asking for.

Take my fishmonger – he’s deaf as a post. Only this week I popped in for some breaded plaice.

Back home, my wife complained: “I wish you’d buy the fish elsewhere… He’s only gone and braided the fillets again!”

CHARLIE

The horse I ride at Monte’s ranch is three, with a braided mane, and is very elastic along her top line. She is doing very nicely at all three paces (walk, trot, lope) and also has a really good whoa and back up on her.

She was ridden mainly in a bosal as a two year old and we have recently moved her into a snaffle. She turns around well, is light to leg and takes hand cues.

She would be suited for many events from team penning to ranch versatility or just a trail companion, just like my wife.

PLANET Z

I spent a lot of time crimping jacks to the ends of cables.
Even though I memorized the color scheme, which pair went into which slot, I kept a color chart on my desk for the cable standards.
It was all too easy to space out and start making 586-A cables, only to finish a 568-B cable and wonder how many I’d have to go back and recrimp.
It was also all too easy to space out and wonder how I’d made a Flying Spaghetti Monster statue.
I shrugged, put a colander on my head, and prayed for noodly guidance.

SERENDIPITY

I’ve just started up a new jewellery business, and I’m pleased to say, it’s doing a roaring trade.

My current best sellers are necklaces made from braided human hair. Of course, people think it’s supplied by the local hairdressers, but I prefer to know exactly where my materials have been sourced from.

I keep a supply of fresh corpses in the basement, which provides me with plenty of raw material to work with.

And, if you like my braided necklaces, I’m sure that you’ll love my latest line of ear rings…

Each one, lovingly crafted from a real human ear.

JEFFREY

Rapunzel’s Escape
by Jeffrey Fischer

Rapunzel sat in her castle tower, imprisoned as securely as the lowest thief. “You know how boys are,” said her mother, though of course Rapunzel had no knowledge of boys.

As her hair grew, she devised an escape plan. She braided her hair, making it as strong as any rope. Time passed. When her hair reached the height of the tower, she hacked it off, tied one end to a sturdy fixture, and threw the other out the window. She climbed to the ground.

All around her were ruins: the castle was crumbling, the land choked with weeds. She stumbled into the castle, calling out for her parents, receiving no answer. She stared into a mirror: a haggard, wrinkled, and bald reflection stared back.

LIZZIE

She sat out in the garden, holding her long braid defiantly. She had chopped it off.
The people in the tavern looked at the strange woman.
The fact that she was sitting there intrigued everyone. Everyone except the owner of the tavern. He knew. He had almost strangled her with that braid when…
He walked outside and everyone witnessed in horror how, in a split second, she wrapped the braid around his neck and knocked him to the floor, snapping his neck before anyone could do anything.
She braided the rope they placed around her neck a few days later.

NORVAL JOE

The bell rang and Billbert waited on the administration building roof.
The tardy bell rang and Billbert didn’t move.
Once he was sure no one was on the school grounds, he shot down to grab his clothes by the tree. Staying low to the ground, he shot across to the locker room.
Billbert crawled across the empty locker room floor past the coach’s office. Coach Slaughterball’s whistle hung from a hook on it’s braided lanyard.
“Why didn’t he have it with him in the gym?” Billbert wondered.
Then he heard from behind, “What are you doing on the floor, Maggot?”

LAIEANNA

“Wagging Away”

Little Bo Peep lost her sheep
While napping under the apple tree.

The field was empty and also the brook,
So after them she ran carrying her crook.

Eventually the search took her into the city
Where all she could find were dogs and a kitty.

Time was leaving with the loss of sun.
If she didn’t find the sheep, punishment would be no fun.

But a salon at the end of the street
Caught her attention because of the sheep.

They lined the sidewalk, and the salon was full,
Each one getting trims, blowouts, and braids in their wool

TOM

Was Wisdom Waiting

He ran the braid pairs down the stairs into the basement. Connected the ends to the plate on the door jam, gently close it, move down the steps. A van parked far distance down the street allowed him to verify that the mark had been successfully terminated. As he sat in the front seat a young girl about 12, hair in long braids moved up to the passenger side window. Before he could shoes her away the window exploded and three shots hit his forehead. She tapped the com on her wrist “Security breach dispatched with extreme prejudice. Residence neutralize.”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Charlie Lacrosse
• Tom
• Jon
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Tura
• Duane
• Planet Z

RICHARD

Generally

So, here I am, Sat in the pub, enjoying my pint, phone in hand, pondering what to write for this week’s story.

And, literally at the moment I tap out the heading, ‘Generally’, the chap across the bar loudly says the exact same word to his companion.

I’m a little freaked out…

Am I being watched? Under covert surveillance by who knows what shady organisation? Is some bizarre experiment in thought control taking place here?

I take another draught from my glass.

Maybe it was just a freaky coincidence… But, if nothing else, I’ve got a story out of it!

SERENDIPITY

I find that generalisations are, generally pretty useful.

They can cover a multitude of sins and can allow you – quite literally sometimes – to get away with murder.

They’re handy for providing alibis, without actually being deceptive…

“Where were you on the night in question?”

“Well generally, I’m at church on a Sunday at that time of the evening, so I suppose that must have been the case.”

“And, as a rule, I generally go straight home afterwards, to a mug of cocoa, and a good night’s sleep.”

And the best of it is that I, generally, get away with it!

PLANET Z

“Generally speaking…”
When the boss started off with those words, you knew you were in for an hour of boredom.
Not that you could show it, mind you.
If you closed your eyes or crossed your arms, he was right there in your face, asking if there was a problem.
And then he’d start back over again with those words:
“Generally speaking…”
There were only two ways to get out of that.
Lunch and quitting time.
You get home, you have your dinner, you put your feet up, and…
When you go to sleep, and dream of those words again.

TURA

Generally
———
The bronckle is an old folk instrument traditionally made, and played, by shepherds. It consists of a long, stout, hollow staff with a mouthpiece and finger holes. The opposite end is terminated by a large hollow wooden ball that provides percussion accompaniment when swung against a tree. Thus did shepherds amuse themselves in former times.

The bronckle has never found favour in the salon, but the composer Marin Marais once accepted a challenge to create a piece for bronckle consort, performed by shepherds on the King’s estates. It was generally agreed that the effect resembled a stampede of confused cows.

TOM

The river rose all day–The river rose all night

Generally speaking Dean was the last person I’d have thought would be capable of such a selfless act of kindness. It not that he is some kind of self-center asshole, it more he has the heart and soul of an accountant. One to weight the cost benefits of any given interaction. But there he was knee deep in the river with the tiny girl riding on his shoulders. And he didn’t stop there. Dean return to the river a dozen time. The water rising to hip, then chest. He didn’t make it back from the last trip. Well done Dean.

JON

Why I Am Not As Good As Lovecraft

By

Jon DeCles

Generally speaking, I always try to be specific. Generalities are sometimes useful, like statistics, but they usually present a false, or at least inadequate, image of something that would be better served with a precise and specific representation. Specificity allows for the possible communication of precise information. Generality, at best, allows for the communication of a warm fuzzy feeling or a cold chill of horror.

Lovecraft used non-specific information more effectively than anyone in achieving a precise reaction of horror in his readers. Through non-specificity he became, generally, one of the greatest writers of horror stories in all of literature.

CHARLIE

Generally, I do not fly Airlingis. The last time I called them, I misdialed. A woman answered, and when I asked for comfortable, Airlingis accommodations, she gasped and slammed the phone down. I do this sort of thing often.

As I get older, I make more mistakes, and make them more often.

As I near my final days, I plan to get my head removed and stored at an Alcor, cryogenic facility. My executors will handle everything, including reanimation.

Some day, my ancestors will fetch me from the walk-in, and we can sit down to catch up on the news.

LIZZIE

The lighthouse keeper stared at the horizon. Five lines. The sea was unusually calm and it was bitter cold. His mind wandered back to that day. The sea wasn’t calm then and it wasn’t cold but he felt it at the back of his neck like a knife. The body was out there. He knew exactly where. Five years ago. Each year, on that day, he would stand up there. He didn’t know how. He never noticed when. But he knew she came from the sea to carve another line on his arm, a reminder of what he had done.

JEFFREY

Common Sense
by Jeffrey Fischer

Generally, the sound of a police siren and the sight of flashing lights invokes the following reactions: pulling over, handing license and registration to the officer, and responding politely to questions and instructions from the officer. He’s armed and the driver is usually not. Confrontations generally work out poorly for the driver. This is common sense.

It’s annoying to read the self-righteous accounts of black parents lecturing their male children of driving age to take the above steps in a respectful manner. The implication is that young black males have trouble with these simple concepts. Be a man, kid, and respect the law. You’ll live longer that way.

LAIEANNA

Waltzing

I shaded more red into my canvas, working while the crowds shuffled
around. My subject squirmed and whined before settling on command. I
hastened to finish my latest masterpiece, turning it for parental
approval.

They squawked and shouted offending words I dare not repeat, insisting
I did not capture their child, but in reviewing my sketch, taking note
of horns, gnashing teeth, and evil glint, I assured them my
interpretation was accurate. It was how I generally saw all of them
in the park.

I don’t remember much more after the mouse came up and punched me in the head.

NORVAL JOE

Being a boy in middle school is generally a negative thing.

For the few boys with confidence and maturity beyond their years it’s an opportunity to control hundreds of others. Like fish in a barrel, the less mature and more insecure rise to the surface with hopes for acceptance and inclusion, only to get a bullet through the head.

So it was that Billbert fell victim to Roderick’s prank. Though, now, he had something none of the other boys had: a super power.

True. He wore a plastic bag for a loin cloth, which, generally was not a positive thing.

DUANE

Generally

Hollywood is remaking The Dukes of Hazard. The story is generally the same. Uncle Jesse is the same old curmudgeon, but running a recycling center. Daisy runs a tech firm. “Mayor” Hogg is a philanthropist who loves helping others and playing Santa at Christmas.

And don’t forget that iconic car. It’s now a bright green Prius, with a yellow peace sign on the roof. They use it to deliver meals on wheels or sometimes as a Lyft service and hilarity ensues. They call it “The Generally.” So how much trouble will those Duke boys be in this week? Not much…

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:

• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Tom
• Jon
• Duane
• Planet Z

RICHARD

Big Brother

I’ve had a dicky ticker for some time. Weirdly, it’s a good thing in some ways – I grant you it will, literally, be the death of me, but on the bright side, it’s brought Harold and me back together.

As brothers go, we never had that close relationship we should have, but since the bad news, he’d do anything he can to help his little brother.

More fool him! I still can’t stand him.

It’s handy having him around though, especially since I’ve been steadily poisoning him for the last few months!

And, when he dies… I’m having his heart!

JEFFREY

My Brother, The Idiot
by Jeffrey Fischer

My brother was so dumb he rounded pi to three. “Easier to remember,” he said. Somehow he passed engineering school, and somehow he ended up with a job designing a building – a round tower in the center of the city. He got fed up with my riling him about his math skills, so, to prove me wrong, he said he would use no computers on the job.

As the mayor used the ceremonial scissors for the ribbon-cutting, the rumbling began. The building started to break into pieces. I ran for my life, but couldn’t help but notice that every chunk that fell resembled a slice of pizza.

SERENDIPITY

Another slice of pie?

No, really, there’s no need to be polite – if you’re hungry, please tuck in, and if you’re enjoying it, then please help yourself to another slice.

There’s no need to apologise for your brother. I’m sure he’d have joined us if he could. I know that we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye in the past, but I’m the first person to admit that I’m by no means perfect, so in a way, I suppose you could call this a slice of humble pie on my part.

Although, your brother is rather tasty, don’t you think?

LIZZIE

The Brothers, the Tower and No Elephant

The brothers had a reputation that preceded them wherever they went. The day they decided to steal the gold statue of an elephant, they came up with a plan and managed to sneak inside the king’s tower. The problem was, they couldn’t find the damn elephant anywhere. They climbed all the way to the top in pitch black darkness. Exhausted, they sat down for a few seconds. No elephant, but the view was magnificent. They decided to watch the sunrise before resuming the search. Suddenly, evil laughter interrupted the dreamy moment. Watching the sunrise was lovely. Free flying was not.

NORVAL JOE

Wearing his grocery bag loincloth, Billbert crept to the edge of the roof, looking like an insane albino native American. He spied his clothes at the base of the tree, towering above the school grounds.

Inconspicuous on the roof, he would stand out like an elephant at a tea party if he flew down there to grab them, now. Too bad his new super power wasn’t like spider man.
Spidey could just shoot a web down to his clothes and snag them.

Once class started Billbert could fly down, snag clothes, and shoot into the locker room to get dressed.

TOM

Out of the Dark

The Brotherhood of Pi came to my village one day. Dressed in the pi-ionic red took their place under a tree said to be the exact spot that Dar Laktor had drawn his proof. The brothers were here to find inquiring souls who were capable of serious mathematic heavy lifting. Boy Who Runs With Elephant and his brother Zin Bok sat at the edge of first ring each morning the good brothers spoke. On the day of departing Boy handed the Brothers a leaf showing his work on a new irrational called Q.

So he left with the brothers.

JON

The Brothers Oyinlola
By
Jon DeCles

The Brothers Oyinlola had a drumroll announce the appearance of any native wildlife, so the tourists atop the tower they owned would not miss anything. They would serve you a slice of iyeye pie while you were waiting, and just in case nothing showed all day, you could have more than once slice. They also had a medical kit, and occasionally a doctor on call, in case some elderly visitor’s ticker conked out when an elephant got upset and charged and shook the tall wooden tower. Lack of funds meant they only advertised their safari on the world wide web.

LAST WEEK
Grab Bag
By
Jon DeCles
The sign said I could grab a bag and fill it with whatever I wanted for only five dollars, but I only had five minutes. I could see what a bargain that would be. I grabbed the bag and started to stuff things in, running up and down the aisles, and I finished on time.
Now I have a pound of walnuts, a pair of red-sequined slippers, a new jock strap, a Thing “As Advertised on TV” (I don’t know what it does), bicycle goggles, ten daffodil bulbs, a really bad hardback novel: but Wait! There’s More! A VCR tape…

DUANE

Pick Two – Tower & Drumroll

I was raised on fairy tales about the brave knight saving the beautiful princess from the tower. There was always an evil stepmother or fearful king keeping the princess hidden away. At eighteen I ventured off to find my fair princess. I heard her one day, singing like an angel from her castle tower. I scaled the wall that night and climbed onto the ledge. The beautiful maiden turned from the across the room and our eyes met… the silence soon broken as she screamed and screamed. The last sounds I heard were the drumroll and the falling of the guillotine.

PLANET Z

Simple Simon was a pieman.
So was his younger brother Saul.
Father left the bakery to Simon.
Even though Saul was the better pieman.
Simon renamed the shop Simon’s Pies.
Saul became very angry.
He started his own bakery, right across the street. Saul’s Pies.
And he tried to drive his brother out of business.
He nearly succeeded.
Instead of going bankrupt, Simon made a deal with some people.
And Saul’s Pies burned to the ground.
Saul was ruined.
Then, Simon’s Pies burned to the ground, too.
Simon’s new partners collected the insurance money.
The brothers manage a McDonalds now.