Weekly Challenge #634 – WAFER

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:

Tinny

NORVAL JOE

After three flights around the backyard Billbert went into the house.

Sitting in the dining room, he ate butterscotch pudding with vanilla wafers, when his mother walked in and dropped bags of groceries on the table.

“How was your first day of school?” she asked.

“Okay,” he said and slid his chair closer to the table. He hadn’t thought to take off his bag before sitting down.

“Good. Help me bring in the rest of the stuff,” she said, waiting for a response.

How could he explain flying in grocery bags? he thought before he levitated off of his seat.

JON

What’s in a Name?

By

Jon DeCles

The old textbook said you were supposed to consecrate a wafer and it would turn into the blood and body of Christ. As ‘Christ’ was a word that meant ‘light,’ Tolund thought it would be an amazing and beautiful thing to achieve: but although he could readily picture a body of light, he had a hard time imaging what the blood of light might be like.

Nevertheless, he was determined to cast the old spell, and he set about gathering all the ingredients. There was water in the time vault, and some Thunderbird wine. For the wafer, a peppermint patty.

JEFFREY

A Little Bit of Treason
by Jeffrey Fischer

Hillier looked at the wafer-thin USB drive before scooping it up and placing it in a pocket. His contact within DoD had come through, copying the design of plans for the next-generation of nuclear missile technology from an insufficiently-secured laptop and leaving the USB memory stick at the designated drop point. Hillier just needed to verify the contents of the stick before passing it to his buyer. He didn’t think of it as betraying his country. It was just a way of making a living.

Once in his apartment, Hillier placed the USB drive into his own laptop. He double-clicked on the icon. But instead of seeing a schematic of a new missile, the drive launched a video of Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” Rickrolled by some Defense Department geek.

TOM

Straight to hell

Raise Catholic it is reasonable to say I’ve eaten my fair share of wafered waffles. It’s on art to get each wafer fully filled with equal amounts of butter and maple syrup. Since we’re talking decades of Friday meatlessness, damn near everything you can imagine had gone into the batter. Nut, bananas, rock candy. There were various vegetables, but those general sucked. The acme of wafer delight had to be ice-cream and waffles. Messy, but so sweet. Once my kid sister dropped in a bunch of cut-up hot dogs. So for 12 hour all of us were going straight to hell.

SERENDIPITY

The boundary between life and death is rarely as distant as we’d like to believe. Death loiters beside us, sometimes far too close for comfort. Indeed, that boundary can be barely perceptible… it can be practically wafer thin.

A split second’s indecision when crossing the road; the ill-advised swim just a little too far from shore; a moment of distraction when driving; or perhaps choosing to take that short cut home along the lane tonight.

The lane where I am waiting, cold steel in my hand and blood lust in my eyes.

And with every step, death grows ever closer.

RICHARD

Pink wafer biscuits

One of the constants in my life – ever since my earliest days. My grandmother used to serve them as a treat if I’d been good. You’d always see them wheeled out at church socials, reposing on china plates along with the chocolate digestives.

Yet, there was nothing to them – a couple of layers of pink cream filling, sandwiched between those unassuming delicate pink wafer fingers. And the taste… Well, even to this day, I can only describe them as the flavours of pink, and wafery!

Even so, a single bite can transport me effortlessly back to my childhood.

LIZZIE

Mr. Probitas stared at the store window.
The new notice was titled Antisocial Behavior Order, an anti-sugar diatribe.
Ever since the intake of sugar became controlled by decree, Mr. Honey’s store was in a financial crisis.
Mr. Probitas walked in.
“What’s that all about?”
“I have to close. Or I’ll be arrested…”
“Arrested?!”
Mr. Honey shrugged.
“Why?”
“For being antisocial. Here, have a wafer. Be antisocial while you can.”
It was then that Mr. Probitas and Mr. Honey started an underground movement to import wafers.
But it was not really about the wafers, was it?

CHARLIE

That’s all it took. A wafer, containing all the circuitry, was placed under the skin of the top of the hand. It was close enough to the surface so any luminescence would provide enough power.

It was still in beta, but the first mechanical brain stimulator on the market. The device would excite the cortex immediately, when activated.

My device was a transplant from a deceased donor. His device shorted and blew out a piece of skull from just above his ear. For a few seconds, the donor had an I.Q., estimated at 400, and his eyes shown like lasers.

PLANET Z

The wine represents the blood of Christ.
The wafers represent his body.
Dr. Odd pondered how to obtain both.
He ran some experiments and ended up with what he called Quantum Duplication.
With a simple set of nine-dimensional coordinates, he could flash a copy from the past into the present.
The short, hairy messiah babbled endlessly in Aramaic.
Dr. Odd smiled, and made a few more copies.
Then, he tasked the Jesuses to stomp grapes from his vineyard.
“Wine made from grapes stomped by the feet of Jesus himself.”
The ones who became exhausted or uppity went into the dough.

Weekly Challenge #633 – RATCHET

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:

Tangly Tinny

JON

The Economics of Architecture

By

Jon DeCles

It was such a wonderful invention, thought Giles as he turned the ratchet just a notch and listened to Geoffrey’s screams. Before some clever torturer had invented the rack, this kind of pain could only be inflicted on a prisoner by hanging him by his wrists from the ceiling and slowly adding weights to his ankles. That, in turn, required a pretty high ceiling from which to do the hanging, and that meant you had to build a dungeon with a vault as high as the average great hall, which was a very wasteful use of stone, wood, and mortar.

NORVAL JOE

Bilbert took the plastic grocery bag and cut two holes in the bottom. He pushed his legs through the holes and carefully pulled it up.

“Only a homeless person would wear a grocery bag,” he said as he walked to the back yard.

He knew he must look completely ghetto, or ratchet, as his cousin from New Orleans used to say.

Not wanting to hit his head on the ceiling, he stepped outside and looked up into the branches of the maple tree above him.

Next thing he knew, he was hovering among the leaves, twenty feet above the ground.

TOM

Rat Chet

Chet had no honor. Everyone who had taken him into their confidence were soon betrayed. When maximum density was reached in his small village he was strapped to a pillory and the letters R-A-T were branded on his forehead with a red hot iron. His last remaining friend gave him money for passage to France. Settling- in in Paris he took up the profession of rodent exterminator. If paid well, he became rich, and soon a member of the French court. Marquis Rongeur never lost his tendency to rat folk out, thus, an early victim of the reign of terror.

SERENDIPITY

Few people appreciate the difficulties those of us in the hurting and killing professions face daily.

It’s not just the constant hiding of evidence and running from the cops that make it such a stressful occupation: Blood soaked clothing means sky high laundry bills, for a start; and you’d be amazed at how prevalent repetitive strain injury is, as a result of constantly hacking away at bodies for easy disposal.

That’s why I invented the ‘Ratchet Hatchet’™ – a labour saving device that takes the strain out of removing limbs.

Not coming to a home shopping channel any time soon!

CHARLIE

When I grew up in New Orleans, everyone thought I was a ratchet, and that I would never make anything of myself.

Today, in my early twenties, I am a Certified Arch Support Technician for the largest woman’s shoe emporium in town. When a customer comes to my kiosk in the back of the store, I can see their problem before they say a thing. Most of those that have bad feet are a hundred pounds over weight.

I ask them to sit, and then I slather on hand sanitizer up to my armpits, and under my watch and bracelets.

#2

I had to borrow a ratchet to tighten the main universal on my dildonic device. It had loosened way outside of spec after the bachelorette party with the ladies.

I torqued the base, arms, grippers to spec, and plugged it in. Next, I called the main sex hub and asked them to run a test series on the device. It whirred, spun, then, when warmed up it went into full operation.

Myrna was at the house for the day, insisting on testing it. She had me wait in the other room. A minute passed and I heard a frenzied scream.

JEFFREY

Suspense
by Jeffrey Fischer

“It was night.”

No, you need the opening to be punchier, more suspenseful. Give it another try.

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

Better, but maybe ratchet up the suspense even a little more.

“It was a really, really dark and especially stormy night.”

That’s not exactly what I…

“As soon as it got dark, the frustrated author killed the annoying editor with his pen.”

Better, better. How about changing “killed” to “stabbed” – or even “slaughtered”? Wait, we can talk this over… “killed” is just fine… what are you -”

RICHARD

Slow and sure

Growing old and slowing down never suited grandpa – especially the slowing down bit.

He used to grumble constantly that his stair lift was too slow, and that he had a good mind to make his own modifications to speed it up. I told him to leave it be, but he never took any notice.

I’ve no idea what he used to replace the old ratchet mechanism, but I do know it was way too powerful, and that somehow he got the gearing all wrong.

Last we heard of him, he was headed for the earth’s core, at breakneck speed!

LIZZIE

Rest assured. This will not happen again, you said.
Aim for the future and don’t look back, hey? May those sorrows stay in the past, you said. Bury them deep. What you did cannot be undone, can it?
Time will tell, of course. Time will tell.
Call upon the meek, you must. Their sorrowful, all-forgiving smiles will free you.
Haul and cry if you must. Haul and cry. They’ll forgive you.
Each new day will bring new hope, we hope. You hope.
Then, it’ll be the end. Where? Right there. Find the place. Rest assured. This will not happen again.

PLANET Z

She picked up the ratchet off of the garage workbench, walked up behind Bobby, and smacked him in the back of the head.
He fell to the ground, dead.
She washed off the ratchet and put it back in the set,
Then, she called the police.
By the time they got there, she was gone.
The police took photographs and measurements, collected things to check for fingerprints.
But they found nothing. No sign of her.
Bobby got zipped up in a body bag and hauled into the back of a van.
The house went on the market, are you interested?

Weekly Challenge #632 – TIP

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:

Tinny

RICHARD

Bad Advice

“Take a tip from me”, my father would say. “Never get involved with women, drugs, gambling or booze, and you’ll live a long, healthy and happy life, just like me.”

Unfortunately, it seems you can take advice too literally…

My mother threw me out on the streets when I refused to have anything to do with her; I refused medication when I contracted pneumonia; and when consequently admitted, unconscious to hospital, my lack of health insurance – which you’ll agree, is gambling – saw me back on the streets almost immediately.

And I can’t even drown my sorrows.

Thanks dad!

CHARLIE

I’ve got a tip for the warden that will be in charge of the imprisonment of Weinstein, Cosby and Freeman. “Above all, avoid letting anyone near the three named prisoners. Don’t let anyone pump them full of meth, steroids, sildenafil, and B-12. After a few days pass, they will be at each other like Spanish Pirates on native women in the Caribbean.”

This, of course, would be a very cruel deed, and the staff would have to keep things on the down low.

The female officers could be trusted to be discrete, and would have access to professionally produced DVDs.

LIZZIE

What should I do? The green is fading away. The red is taking over. A man is hanging from the big oak, swinging horribly. His blood is pooling on the ground. And I don’t know what to do. I just hide in this tree. The magic is gone. The magic is gone… The man has been there for a while. I didn’t see who did it. I was hiding, hiding in this tree. And I hid for so long that I am now the tree. I am not hanging, but I am dead too. Tell me, what should I do?

JEFFREY

At the Track
by Jeffrey Fischer

Alan leaned over the rail, urging his horse to victory. The horse finished dead last, and Alan tore his betting ticket in two. So much for the great tip he had gotten from the old guy who looked as though he spent his days at the track, studying each race with great intensity. This was the fifth race in a row the old guy had whispered a name to Alan, and the fifth race in a row where that name had finished out of the money. A Magic 8 Ball would have been just as helpful.

A second old man materialized at the rail, next to Alan. “Let me guess,” Alan said, “you have a tip for me.”

“Yeah,” the old man said, “I do. Don’t take betting advice from strangers.“

SERENDIPITY

I like to keep the cops on their toes – give them a little something to keep them occupied; nothing of much consequence, but a steady stream of minor crime to tie up their resources and embroil them in paperwork. Because whilst they’re distracted by the small things, it keeps them off my back, and me off the radar.

So I lower myself to the occasional break in, the odd burglary and casual mugging, tying up police resources, time and energy.

They never realise that it’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Below which lies blackmail, extortion, torture and murder!

TOM

A 100 years ago my grandfather attached to the 2nd division was fighting in the Belleau Woods. His division met up with the 5th Marines. They moved on Hill 142. In the middle of this a jarhead from NY starts talking about what he’s going to do when he gets home. Pretty normal practice. “Hey Kosick, got a tip for you. ATnT.” A Year later my grandfather’s a junior accountant in the ATT Chicago office buying ATT stocks pennies on the dollar. Didn’t work out a well for my other grandfather, who lost his shirt trying to corner the wheat market.

DANNY

Dad flinches as the tip of the dialysis needles are placed in his arm. “Get me out of here,” he laments, not understanding he still has over 2 hours left on the dialysis machine. The fidget monster sits restless, irritable, and discontent in a persistent state of wide awake stupid, not knowing the date or where he is. I sit with him for the full duration of treatment to prevent him from getting up and tearing the needles out his arm. When Dialysis is over, I take a content Dad home, because he is unable to remember where he has been.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda ran and hugged her scowling father.
When she looked back, Billbert tipped his head and said, “See ya Friday.”
On his way home, he pictured the shreds of plastic in his pocket and said, “Fly.”
Nothing happened.
Standing in his kitchen, he held the shreds in his hand and said, “Fly.”
The plastic only settled to the floor.
He threw the remains of the bag into the garbage beneath the sink.
“Fly in there,” he muttered.
To his surprise, something behind the garbage can buzzed.
“Fly?” he asked.
The exposed tip of a white plastic grocery bag fluttered wildly.

JON

A Titanic Romance

By

Jon DeCles

The trouble with the tip was that it was going to tip the balance of what was in his wallet in favor of his not being able to afford the ride home. He could walk her from the restaurant to her house, and walk from there to the subway, but he could not walk to Germantown where he was living, a distance practicably reachable only by train.

If he didn’t tip the waitress he would be a schmuck, which would tip Mary off to the fact that he was out of work. Hope punctured by the tip of the iceberg.

PLANET Z

Back in college, I had a summer job delivering pizzas.
I could have been a pizza maker, but it was summertime in a building with one wall unit air conditioner and a huge pizza oven.
Better to risk getting attacked or robbed.
Besides, that’s how you got the tips, right?
The store had a computer to track customers and orders.
And if they were good tippers or not.
The owner didn’t like it when we tracked tips, so we disguised them in the fax number field.
Nobody ever faxed in an order. Heck, we didn’t even have a fax machine.

Weekly Challenge #631 – PICK TWO DWARVES

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:

Myst and Tinny

DANNY

Doc was cursed with having the remainder of his troupe of elves as test subjects. Grumpy in a rage had to be put down, Happy was manic and had to be strapped down, Sleepy has been in a coma for over 9 1/2 weeks, Bashful is scared and won’t come out of the closet, and Sneezy hemorrhaged to death from a nosebleed after an allergy attack. “I’ll never find a cure for Snow White,” Doc lamented. So, when Prince Charming dislodged the poison apple from Snow White’s throat, the story became “Snow White and the Five Dwarfs.” Walt Disney was not amused.

LIZZIE

Sneezy Tom went to the bookshelf and picked up a book.
“Wanna hear a story?”
Grumpy Doc nodded.
“But read a happy story.”
“Doc, what’s a happy story?”
Grumpy Doc turned to look at him, frowning.
“Something that ends well.”
“Then I have to grab another book. This won’t do.”
With the second book in hand, Sneezy Tom started reading.
“… and the two lived happily ever after, her head chopped off and stored in a jar.”
“That’s happy?!”
“Yes, my wife drives me crazy. It’s a shame I can’t do this…”

RICHARD

#1 – Grumpy

There’s one thing that’s guaranteed to put me in a grumpy mood: Dealing with jerks who are perfectly happy going through life acting eternally dopey.

The sleepy heads who sit at green lights, seemingly unaware that it’s no longer red… Only moving, thanks to the blast on my horn behind them.

Or the parents of sneezy, dribbling, mucus-encrusted kids, who think it’s cute to parade them in public; and all those around them, too bashful to tell them to wipe those snotty noses.

“Take one of these, three times daily” said the doc.

It worked… Now I’m the dopey one!

#2 – Twist in the tale

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves… At least, that’d how it used to be. Now, in these days of rampant political correctness, we can’t have any of that.

It’s ‘vertically challenged, differently-abled people’, and – thanks to racial equality – she’s now ‘a person of non-ethnically definable skin tone’.

As for ‘Snow’, forget it: Acknowledging climate change dictates she’s now ‘Seasonally typical precipitate’.

We can’t even keep the ‘Seven’, since it’s offensive to Roman numerals. And hexadecimal. And octal. So instead, we’re stuck with ‘fixed numerical quantity’.

And just wait until you see how they’ve butchered the poor dwarves’ names!

ZACKMANN

I was very surprised to find a real dragon at the cherry blossom festival. I was not sure if when it picked me up and started flying me over the city, it was being friendly or just taking me home to be eaten by its family.

It was grumpy when my body’s involuntary act due to all that pollen in the air snottified its talons causing me to ooze off, I was relieved it decided not to come back for me.

That is why I have decided not to start a career in the foodservice industry. I’m just too sneezy.

JEFFREY

Look on the Bright Side of Life
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Why do you have to be so grumpy all the time?” Susan asked her husband.

“I’m not grumpy, I’m just particular in my likes and dislikes,” Mark replied.

She rolled her eyes. “Just this morning you complained about the toast being burned, how Junior parked his car too close to yours, and how the neighbors started mowing too early. Is there anything you feel happy about?”

He thought for a while. “I suppose I’m happy nothing bad has happened to the house this week. Oh, and that I still have a job.”

Susan smiled. “Good. For a while I was concerned you had nothing. Well, keep those things in mind. We have a meeting with Junior’s guidance counselor in fifteen minutes. And I changed the chores list so that you’ll be making breakfast from now on. And I convinced the Smiths that eight a.m. was too early to start mowing, so he agreed to do it after dark.”

Susan took secret pleasure at the scowl on Mark’s face that stayed in place the rest of the day.

CHARLIE

My name is Doc. I took the name when I got my Ph.D. from an online school. Since I moved into an elder care facility, I’ve made some acquaintances with several of the residents, including all of the Greenley brothers. Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Dopey, Bashful and Sneezy.

Grumpy was grumpy because of his persistent double vision, preventing him from driving. Happy was doped up, Sleepy was addicted to Halcion, Dopey gobbled downers like M&Ms. Bashful was on the autism spectrum and Sneezy had bad allergies.

We made up word games and created a chart for Santa’s reindeer. It’s listed, below.

#2

Name of Reindeer Trait(s) Special Skills

Dasher

He loves to go fast!

Sewing and knot tying

Dancer

Completely extroverted

All kinds of dance
including pole dancing

Prancer

A bit vain, though affectionate

Prancing and cross
dressing

Vixen

Slightly tricky, slightly sneaky.

Magic and slight of hoof

Comet

Handsome and easy-going,
flirtatious.

Good with kids and
close to Scout Leaders

Cupid

Affectionate satyr.

Bringing people together

Donner

Loud

Singing in choirs

Blitzen

Goes down on himself

Can electrify others
with RV batteries

Rudolph

A little down on himself

Nose glows. Drinking

Olive

Admits when she’s wrong

Good at hide-and-go-seek

and fellatio

JON DE CLES

A Fairy Tale

By

Jon DeCles

Cole Black looked like his Daddy, so his Momma sent him with her new boyfriend to hunt drugs and told boyfriend to kill the kid. Cole got away, small kid, delicate, met some big muscle boys name Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Dopey, Bashful, and Sneezy (‘cause of the cocaine). He figure he put out, they protect him.

Momma found him, done up like a Mary Kay lady, shared her poisoned chitlins with him, best he ever had: he went to sleep.

Muscle boys find him, put him in a glass box, sit around praying. Ain’t heard yet that Prince is dead.

TOM

Do No Harm

Doc had finish this second rotation. Linda found him in the break room stuff in a chair. “Sleepy?” she inquired. Doc opened one eye and raised a hand to his temple. Hand never quite got there. Eye flutter shut. Linda got a blanket and pillow from housekeeping. Tucked him in. Made her way back to ER. It was a full moon, there would be plenty of customers. When he woke the sun was about to arriving or about to departing. He couldn’t tell if it was dawn or dusk. Didn’t really matter. Long as the coffee flowed he was good.

SERENDIPITY

You are feeling sleepy, drifting away, eyes slowly closing; entering the realm of dreams; your happy place.

But tonight, it won’t be your happy place – it will be mine. A space filled with fear and pain, a space filled with anger and hate, a space of infinite darkness.

Tonight, you will dream, but only nightmares – horrors from to run from in terror, then wake screaming, drenched in cold sweat.

And you will scrabble to turn on the light.

And then, when the darkness clears.

I will still be there: Reaching out to you from the foot of your bed.

NORVAL JOE

Linoliamanda’s face went bright right, though she looked happy.

“What’s the matter?” Billbert asked as they headed up the street.

She fiddled with her cat-ear headphones and shrugged. “I’m usually too bashful to talk to people I don’t know.”

“Linoliamanda is unusual,” Billbert said. “Is it a family name?”

“No. My father sells floor coverings and my mother wanted to name me something French. Here’s my house.”

A van pulled up with the words, ‘Carpet Doc’ on the side. An angry looking man climbed out.

“There’s my dad,” Linoliamanda said. “Don’t worry. He just looks grumpy.”

“Sure thing,” Billbert muttered.

PLANET Z

Obama said that if you like your doctor, you can keep your doctor.
Well, he lied. And he lied about medical costs going down, insurance premiums going down… he lied about everything.
It’s so bad, you know Doc from the Seven Dwarves?
Instead of dealing with the bullshit, he retired.
Happy stopped getting his pills, became grumpier than Grumpy.
Dopey went through withdrawal and stabbed Bashful.
Sneezy stopped getting allergy treatments.
And Sleepy?
Well, that was a side effect of the chemical castration regimen he was on.
Snow White had to brain him with a skillet to maintain her virtue.

Weekly Challenge #630 – PIZZA

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:

Sleepy

CHARLIE

As I child, I was lucky enough to have the pizza bones any time we ordered a pizza. We had the pizza on a Saturday night, as we gathered in the den in front of the television. Mom would trim the crispy end pieces for me. She would grate some additional Mozzarella, and pop the pieces into the oven until the cheese melted and joined the circle of bones together into a large circle of crispy, cheesy, chewiness.

Dad and I sometimes shared the Bone Ring as we named it, but he usually was happy with eating the regular slices.

TOM

The First Glorious Thing I Ever Ate.

Many years ago challenge topics were chosen by the winner of a weekly poll. The first time I had a majority of listens votes I chose the topic: Pizza. This choice totally drove Andrew Ian Dodge crazy. He said it was the stupidest topic he had ever seen and end a run of 22 stories in a row. He refused to write a story. I feel confident in the decade that has follow pizza has not been the worst topic. Further I think it’s fair to say all 630 topics have been it their way inspiring, as was Mr. Dodge.

LIZZIE

“This looks awful. Are you sure they have pizza here?”
“Yeah.”
“How did you find this place? There’s no one else here.”
“I got an email. They sent me an 80%-off coupon.”
“80%?? Let’s go. Now.”
“Why?!”
“Haven’t you heard of the 80% club? They’ll shrink your brain by 80%.”
“What?”
It was too late. The doors closed.
The next morning, they were found barely alive.
The number of these cases had been growing lately. No one knew how it was done, but everyone knew the consequences.
Discount coupons can be hazardous.

RICHARD

Food of the gods

That sublime combination of tomato, cheese and a light, doughy base, suffused with an infinite variety of flavours and textures. Mushroom, chicken, sausage, onion, fresh herbs and olive oil… I could talk forever of its merits.

Food of the gods indeed, but there’s a downside to this culinary marvel – I can’t eat more than a slice without suffering the most appalling heartburn.

Might explain why the gods always seem to be hurling lightning bolts and in such a bad mood.

TURA

Pizza
———
Pizzas are not popular in China, and imported Western pizza chains have met with indifferent success. This is despite the fact that pizza was invented there, more than two thousand years ago, during the Qin dynasty, and had many regional forms. But one day, at a great state banquet, one of the guests suddenly picked up his pizza and flung it, frisbee style, at the Emperor. The circular blade concealed inside by a treasonous cook decapitated him.

Pizzas were henceforth banned throughout the Middle Kingdom, pizza ovens and recipes were destroyed, and the very word was expunged from the language.
———

JON

Wrapped in Wool To Keep It Warm

By

Jon DeCles

The first pizza is speculated to be that of the Ancient Romans, who baked it on the hot bricks of the hearth after raking back the coals. The dough was made simply with water and chestnut flour. Chestnuts were plentiful, and easier to process than wheat or barley. Pine nuts rather than anchovies provided a contrasting flavor, and a sprinkling of fresh rosemary was covered with a drizzle of olive oil before baking. It was a very rich desert.

Flavius the attractive slave delivered it from the baker, and was subject to the same advances as his attractive contemporary counterpart.

SERENDIPITY

Hotter than the surface of the sun!

That first bite of a fresh pizza that sears the roof of your mouth, instantly flaying the skin in peeling layers from your palate; bubbling blisters erupting from the corners of your lips.

It’s excruciating.

Yet you’re compelled to continue through to the bitter end.

Bite after bite.

Slice after slice.

One piece after another; until, bleeding, torn and blistered, tongue swollen and useless, you collapse, whimpering and broken.

Would you like another slice?

DANNY

Weekly Challenge 630: Pizza
Posted on May 14, 2018 by dannydwyer
Vito tried to calm a customer outraged at his brother slapping the dough on his bare chest to make pizza by saying, “you think that’s bad, you should see how he makes the doughnuts.” The customer stormed out in a rage. Over the next week, Vito and Tony were shocked at the sudden decline in business. They had NO customers at all.

They agreed to be on “Gordon Ramsay’s 24 Hours to Hell & Back,’ to figure out what was going wrong. Gordon screamed after walking in on Tony making the doughnuts, “Start by taking your dick out of the food, dumb-ass!”

NORVAL JOE

Billbert leaned over, held his stomach, and stared at the ground, waiting for the pain and the students to go away.
When the nausea passed he looked up to find a single student standing there.
She smiled. Neon blue cat ear headphones perched on her blond head matched her blue eyes.
“I’m Linoliamanda. I’m sorry he hit you.”
Billbert gathered up the shreds of plastic. “Yeah. Me too.”
“Do you want to come to my birthday party on Friday? We’re having pizza.”
Billbert shoved the remains of the plastic bag in his pocket and said, “Yeah. That sounds like fun.”

PLANET Z

I like to watch the How It’s Made television series.
The episode on Frozen Pizzas is fascinating, showing how much automation there in is the process.
The machines they use are fascinatingly complex.
If I had become an engineer, I’d have liked to have designed machines like that.
But what I find most fascinating is that instead of having to watch The Discovery Channel when they air this show, I can watch any episode by searching for it on YouTube.
On Demand is so fascinatingly complex.
If I had been a software engineer, I’d have liked to design that too.

Weekly Challenge #629 – ORGAN

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
  • Lizzie
  • Serendipity
  • Tom
  • Jon
  • Norval Joe
  • Danny
  • Paul Camp
  • Planet Z
  • Sleepy

    RICHARD

    Mavis

    Mavis plays the pipe organ in church every Sunday.

    She’s not particularly good, but the vicar won’t let anyone else try their hand, despite having a few candidates who could play equally well, if not better.

    There’s Albert, who was a music teacher; Henry, who plays keyboard on a Friday night at The Smokehouse Blues Bar; and Jake, who’s young, but can play better than most twice his age.

    We reckoned the vicar just didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

    Until we discovered the vicar’s own ‘pipe organ’ was also getting the Mavis treatment in the vestry before every service!

    CHARLIE

    When I went to South Africa to shop for my organ, I brought Bessie with me. I trusted her enough to help me pick out the organ I would have the rest of my life.

    She was not a stuffy, snooty type. She would pick one out that was simple, not ornate in any way, and she would tend to pick something that was practical and easy to maintain.

    We arrived at the showroom and the director took us into the private display salon.

    There were about a dozen on display. A couple of them had mirrors reflecting several views.

    #2

    If you have an aging organ, you have several options: 1) rebuild the existing organ; 2) replace the organ with a suitable electronic substitute; 3) purchase an entirely new organ; or 4) make do with a compromised tool.

    Trading in an existing organ for an electronic substitute can be much like tossing out an heirloom gold watch bequeathed by your grandfather and replacing it with a Walmart 6 dollar watch. Most organs, even those neglected and in greatest need of repair, have parts of considerable value to someone.

    The pipes, casework, console shell, and many other components never wear out.

    LIZZIE

    When we arrived for dinner at the neighbors, a man was playing a song on an old pipe organ. One of the notes was off-key, but he played on. When the host invited us to go outside, I was happy to escape that torture. The problems started when she explained that they needed meat and that they took some of his organs . I was shocked, and was about to ask how he could even play when I felt a sharp blow to the back of my neck. Officer, do you think this scar is what I suspect it is?

    SERENDIPITY

    I’m all in favour of organ donation, but I do think that it’s a shame so many die because the demand for organs so frequently outstrips the supply.

    So I thought I should do my bit to solve the problem. I’ve been working on growing human tissues in the lab, with some very encouraging successes to date, I’ve even managed to create a functioning human kidney!

    You see, I’m not all bad.

    I bet you thought this was going to be a story about harvesting organs from unwilling victims, didn’t you?

    That’s just a hobby I pursue on the side!

    TOM

    Even Educated Fleas Do-s It

    Birds got this organ that lets them know exactly where there are in space. You’ve seen Humming Birds target a space that was once a red feeder and hoover there in surprise. Well modern science has discovered a logic organ in male humans. It seems a matrix of Y-chromosomes somewhere north of Mr. Happy and bit south of the hippocampus is responsible for mid-level discord processes. Researchers at the Mayo Clinic have dubbed this new structure the Y-organ. The triggering mechanism is the sound of the female voice. The response is a long string of the word: WHY WHY WHY.

    JON

    Bach’s Royal Instrument

    By

    Jon DeCles

    The organ is the biggest, most powerful instrument ever built. Pipes from teeny tiny to pipes 28 feet long. In San Francisco there is an art gallery that is one gigantic organ, the pipes inside the walls. Churches tremble as if in earthquake when the mighty organ sounds its orgasmic chords under fingers and pedals. People who have only heard the organ recorded are like those who have read pornography but never had sex. Properly played, the organ can make you tremble right down to your core.

    That’s the very kind of big-piped, powerful, orgasm-inducing, mind-shattering organ that I want.

    NORVAL JOE

    A dozen students, including Billbert, gathered around Roderick as he put his feet through the holes in the grocery bag and pulled it up.

    “Watch this.” He put his arms out like superman, jumped forward, and belly flopped in the dirt.

    The kids wouldn’t have laughed harder if an organ grinder with a dancing monkey had suddenly appeared.

    Fuming, Roderick got to his feet, tore off the grocery bag, and threw the shreds of plastic on the ground. He walked to Billbert and slugged him in the stomach.

    “I think he ruptured my spleen,” Billbert said, watching Roderick stomp away.

    DANNY

    Jezebel was a musician, who liked to make instruments out of human organs and body parts. There were the Bagpipes made of lungs, piano keys made from bones, piano wire made from hair and muscle, and his favorite, a harmonica made from a larynx. Jezebel would bring his grizzly musical instruments to the town square every Saturday, where the crowd favorite was his portable Organ made solely out of organs. It would make disturbing squishy sounds with every key he hit. “What on earth does that sound like?” most would ask. I don’t know, but it sure does sound expensive.

    PAUL CAMP

    Time For the Game

    “Daddy, why do they call it the Organ Trail?” The game is about to start. I mute the car radio.
    “The Organ Trail?”
    “You know, with the covered wagons.”
    “Oh, sweetheart, you mean the Oregon Trail. Oregon is a place.”
    “No, Daddy! Mrs. Lindholm says it’s the ‘Organ Trail.’
    Who am I to contradict her first grade teacher?
    “It’s because the Indians would cut out everyone’s hearts and livers. You know, their organs.”
    A look in the mirror of horrified silence. We can straighten this out later. I turn up the radio. This is going to be a great game.

    PLANET Z

    People settled Red Creek about two hundred years ago.
    They built houses, a school, and a church.
    More people arrived. And they built more.
    They raised money for a pipe organ for the church.
    Wells Fargo wagons brought the pipes and machinery out to Red Creek.
    But the assembly instructions somehow got lost.
    Instead of waiting for a new copy to arrive, the town blacksmith did his best to put the thing together.
    At the celebration party, the pipe organ exploded, killing everyone in town.
    Wells Fargo paid the newspapers to cover it up and call it a meteor strike

Weekly Challenge #628 – Fly

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

    JEFFREY

    Relax
    by Jeffrey Fischer

    The past few weeks had been very stressful for me. An internal audit and the loss of a big client had left me edgy and irritable. My friend Mack, sensing my tension, proposed a weekend trip to go fly fishing. “Trust me, you’ll never have been so relaxed in your life.”

    That’s how I found myself in a freezing stream at 6 a.m., casting a rod adorned with colorful plastic into the water. Three hours later I was in the same spot with nothing to show for it beyond my increasing frustration and perhaps some frostbite. I snapped my rod in two, did the same with Mack’s, and threw our gear into the stream. “You’re right,” said, “this *is* relaxing. I should have done this hours ago.”

    RICHARD

    #1 – Leave it to the birds

    If we were meant to fly, we’d have been given wings and feathers. Unfortunately we weren’t, so those crazy Wright brothers came up with the mad idea of creating the aeroplane.

    C’mon… I don’t care what the laws of physics state, there’s something incredibly wrong about five hundred tons of steel and aviation fuel defying gravity and taking to the skies.

    I’m dead against it – people were not meant to fly, and nothing you can argue to the contrary will change my opinion.

    So, you might ask why it is I love flying so much.

    Two words: Free booze.

    #2 – Fly!

    As a child, I always wondered what it would be like to fly. Stories of Peter Pan inspired dreams of flitting above the rooftops, soaring through the clouds and sailing through the misty air.

    And then, one day, I met the gypsy woman, and fumbling with the few coins I had saved from my pocket money, I whispered her my most fervent wish.

    That night, as the moon rose above the horizon, so did I, and it was everything I’d dreamed of, and more.

    Sadly, that was the only time.

    And I shall never fly again.

    Landings are a bastard!

    #3 – Ecology

    I watched the fly struggling in the web outside my window, and felt the stirrings of compassion.

    Perhaps I should intervene and set the poor thing free?

    But then the spider would go hungry; and maybe the bird that would have feasted on the spider would go hungry, and so on, right up the food chain, until we reach the ultimate apex predator… human beings.

    And we can’t have hungry humans, can we?

    Ecology is terribly complex.

    However, that’s not the reason I left the fly struggling in that web.

    I left it there, because I really can’t stand flies!

    CHARLIE

    A fly has been buzzing around the inside of my window, opposite my desk. It managed to avoid a scrap of flypaper pinned to the sill. It’s big, and I think it’s a male. The male is smaller than the female and the genitalia looks darker, blunter, untidier, and more convoluted.

    If and when the fly gets stuck to the flypaper, I will take it outside and do my best to free the fly, using disposable gloves and plastic tweezers.

    I will release it above a steaming pile of dog crap, so it can find nourishment after its stressful ordeal.

    #2

    When I was a lad, I dressed fly. I was the picture of sartorial splendor and a model for the hippest and most sought after style in the city.

    I sewed many of my own garments, learning how to make patterns by tediously disassembling my favorite shirts, jackets and trousers. I made patterns, bought fabrics and piping at a large fabric store, and stitched things together with an antique, treadle-powered Singer.

    People would ask me where I bought my clothes. I told them they were original, and I made them. I was offered cash, trades, and drugs for my wardrobe.

    TOM

    Pretty Fly For a White Guy

    Technically Elvis Presley was fly before fly was fly. Clothes from Lansky’s moves from Chuck Berry. Pat Boon would take decades to catch up even with a Big Mama” Thornton kick start. But you got to give credit where credit is due. Back stage at the T.A.M.I. Show in 1964 Mick Jagger is watching the Hardest Work Man in Show Business kill it on stage. He the Stones go on next and Jagger pretty much steals every move James Brown made. Keith Richards said of the moment, “the biggest mistake of their careers.” You just can’t out fly James Brown.

    LIZZIE

    “The photo’s really bad. Where’s this?!”
    “I don’t know. But this is where the hot air balloon is.”
    “I can see that… Do you have any other irrelevant information to volunteer?!”
    “There’s a lighthouse on the photo.”
    “I can see that too… What else?”
    “Nothing… Except those red leaves.”
    “Special leaves?”
    “No. They’re quite common.”
    “Then, we have nothing.”
    “Nope.”
    “Why did you bring me this photo then?”
    “Because at the back someone wrote the coordinates.”
    “And you waited this long to tell me that?”
    “I just hate negative people.”

    SERENDIPITY

    Isn’t this just amazing?

    I know you’re nervous. Who wouldn’t be nervous before their first jump? Some would say you have to be more than a little crazy to throw yourself out of a perfectly good plane at thirteen thousand feet, with nothing but a thin sheet of silk to stop you from hitting the ground below at terminal velocity.

    But I know you, and that you’re not at all crazy, not even a little bit.

    There’s no way you’d jump out of a plane with only a parachute to save you.

    Not that I packed one for you anyway!

    TURA

    We burst out of our cocoons in our new bodies, rise into the air, and scatter. Our throng is more numerous than I can grasp. But each must strive to outdo the others, and find a mate to receive our payload alone.

    I sense how much energy yet remains. I have no mouth and cannot feed, but I must not fail. At last I detect an unmated target. With my utmost effort I expend my last reserves, and at the end I achieve consummation.

    The drone swooped down from the sky and exploded in the centre of the enemy outpost.

    JON

    I believe I can fly, and in dreams I know I can. The problem is the aerodynamic imagination.

    Some people, when they fly in their dreams, fly with their arms outstretched at their sides, kind of like wings. Some with their arms stretched out in front of them, like Superman. If you are in the dream time, you never see anybody flying the other way, the way that is not your way.

    If you do, you lose faith and you crash.

    I heard when you hanglide you cease to dream of flying.

    Now I fly for real and don’t crash.

    NORVAL JOE

    Sitting in the back of the bus, Billbert thought he was home free, until Roderick climbed on. Though the bus was crowded the bully made straight for him and sat.
    “Give me that bag, or you’re going to fly out the window of this bus,” Roderick snarled.
    When Billbert hesitated, Roderick pulled his backpack from his hands and rifled through the pockets until he found it.
    Dragging Billbert from the bus at the next stop, Roderick held the bag in the air and declared for the rest of the students to hear, “This bag is going to make me fly.”

    PLANET Z

    We walked through metal detectors, got patted down, and were escorted into the conference hall by bodyguards.
    More bodyguards sat in a row in front of the podium as celebrities shouted about how much they hated the NRA and demanded gun control.
    So, I shouted “GUN!”
    All of the bodyguards quickly pulled out their weapons and scanned the crowd, and then… there was a shot, and another, and then…
    The bodyguards were shooting each other.
    Instant panic. Celebrities rushed the exits, but they were locked.
    “SEE HOW WE NEED GUN CONTROL!” shouted someone.
    A shot rang out, and they screamed.

Weekly Challenge #627 – Pick Two Granite, Pertinent, Record, Surely, Tag, Bridge, Proud, Detective, Tarp, Caramel

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:

Lap Myst

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.

Weekly Challenge #626 – Camping

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:

Myst watches Possum

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?”

Weekly Challenge #625 – Weak

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:

Black cat

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.