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:

• Munsi
• Lisa
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

MUNSI

Coping Mechanism
By Christopher Munroe

I’ve been bottling up my emotions, for later sale.

Because, at the end of the day, nobody’s buying actual products anymore. We buy emotional connections, experiences and nostalgia for the emotional connections and experiences of our past.

I’m simply more honest about it than most, selling my own emotions directly to the consumer, no product involved, just raw, unprocessed feeling to enjoy at your leisure.

Which emotions in particular? Depression, mostly, from a lifetime of issues I never managed to resolve.

Which should come as no surprise.

After all, I’ve already admitted that I tend to bottle up my emotions…

LISA

Delivering so much more:

He found her although he lives the other side of town, only comes every other day now. Not many people use him, preferring to pick it up when they shop.

The familiar sounds of his approach. A chink of glass bottles followed a hum of the float. A wet cough from decades of Capstans. He noticed what we didn’t. Monday’s milk still there on her well swept step.

Just doing his job he told us later at her hospital bed.

Hadn’t hesitated.

Elbow shoved the door to find her fallen, bruised and dehydrated still holding the note ‘No milk today.’

RICHARD

Secret of my Success

People used to tell me that if I could bottle the secret of my success, I could make a fortune from selling it.

That was before I made my fortune – oddly enough though, they weren’t far off the mark. It just goes to show that from humble beginnings, with hard work and dedication, and a keen sense of business acumen, anyone can be successful.

Who would ever have thought that Grannie Heinz’s tomato sauce would ever have been marketable? Yet, I saw its potential and bottled the stuff…

And that, in simple terms, is the secret of my success!

TOM

When You’re All Alone

Jack was hitting the bottle pretty hard. Jill had left him for a foreign guy. He was taking it rather badly heading for rock bottom. Benny suggested a 12 step, but Jack just kept throwing down poppers. “She’ll be back,” he sang into his glass. Well you would have thought it quite improbable but Jill after being jilted by that foreign guy showed up on Jack’s doorstep. “Jack can I come in,” she said swinging the door inward. Gingerly she made her way over the drifts of empty bottles to where Jack sat. Sadly the bottle had already taken him.

SERENDIPITY

Just one bottle left now, such a shame. My father’s home made wine wasn’t that bad at all. Sadly, now that he’s gone, this bottle is all I have left of him.

I silently raise a toast to him, before draining the glass.

Later, as I tipped the last few drops into my glass and savoured the end of an era, I pondered on what to try next.

Maybe I should do away with mother too? I’m sure she’d ferment well, and I’d get a good few gallons from her too…

I’m pretty certain she could be a great vintage!

LIZZIE

“And a bottle of wine,” he ordered. “You’ll love it. Super expensive.”
She didn’t drink. He knew it but didn’t care. He went on to talk about his expensive new suit. Didn’t he look smart, he asked, scanning the restaurant for familiar faces.
“This is the best place in town, very hip, super expensive too. Oh, hey, Vincent,” he waved hellos left and right, turning his back to her.
When she walked away, he didn’t even notice it. And now he had that super expensive existence all to his radiant, perfectly pathetic self. And she was free. Wasn’t life grand?

TURA

Bottle
———
I love building ships in bottles. They’re nothing like your great-grandfather’s. I design them on the computer and fabricate them with a 4D printer, with intelligent microrobots to play sailors setting sails and mounting broadsides.

But I shouldn’t have set my two latest bottled galleons side by side. They started fighting, and one day I found the bottles broken and the crews missing. Trouble is, the microbots are powered from the house induction charging loops. The off switch is inside the house. And they can access the machines that make more robots.

Maybe I should just burn the house down.

NORVAL JOE

Dashing among the trees of the hardwood forest, Mickey leapt to the first branch within reach. In no time he was swinging from branches, almost flying across the tops of trees. Finding a comfortable spot, high in a maple, he waited for his former captors to stumble through the underbrush below, search in vain, and return to their hideout.
As the night drew on Mickey knew he needed a warm safe place.
In the nick of time, he found a dilapidated cabin with all the amenities of home; a moldy blanket, a package of ramen, and a bottle of water.

PLANET Z

Why is it that Guinness tastes so much better when you get it on draft at an Irish pub than when you buy it in a bottle at the store or in one of those stupid special cans with the plastic block in it?
Well, instead of carbon dioxide, a proper Guinness tap uses a mix of Nitrogen and carbon dioxide.
Also, the tap is specially-designed for stouts.
Finally, the keg at the bar is probably fresh, while those bottles in the back of your refrigerator have been sitting there for years.
Do you need a ride to the hospital?

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
• Lisa
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

If it’s taking you a little more time to come up with a story or record it, that’s fine. Feel free to send it it when you’re ready, and I’ll put it up on the feed in a separate post.

Until then, here’s a cat:

JEFFREY

Fighting Back
by Jeffrey Fischer

The restaurant was elegant, with white tablecloths, glasses for types of wine I couldn’t guess at, and more silverware than the average newlyweds owned. The waiter asked what I’d like for dinner. “I could murder a ribeye. Rare, with a hard sear on both sides. So rare that a good vet could bring it back.” The waiter nodded and left.

About fifteen minutes later, an irritated-looking cow arrived at my table, one side singed and seared. “I’ve had it with you humans,” she mooed. “This rare enough for you?” She turned to show the sear mark, then threw some papers on my table. “And you’ve been served: attempted bovine-icide. See you in court.”

The Little Things in Life
by Jeffrey Fischer

Never take the little things for granted. That feeling one gets walking out of the house on a crisp Fall day, for instance, or the first taste of a delicious meal. Add to that list the ability to move one’s bowels regularly. After four days, I decided that laxatives were called for. The laxatives were murder on my stomach and did nothing to solve the problem. The doctor dosed me with Milk of Magnesia. Pure agony, but still noth…

Just wait a second. I’ll be back as soon as I’m able. You done with the sports section?

RICHARD

Murder

Family gatherings… Don’t you just love them?

All those special occasions when those relatives you never see – and let’s face it, there are very good reasons you choose not to see them – get together and pretend they like one another.

In reality, of course, rather than the fake plastic smiles, the air kisses and the under enthusiastic hugs, most of the family would rather have brought a hand grenade or attack rifle.

Much as we’d love to, commonsense prevails, and rather than throttle each other, we laugh and smile pleasantly.

So nobody dies, but nevertheless, it’s still murder!

LISA

He raised a gloved hand to his face. There was a glistening sheen to the thin latex. His nose twitched a little as he inhaled deeply.

Smelling her.
Her final throes.

He removed and dropped them into the fire pit. His coat too. And the rest of his clothes. Walked naked to the caravan where the kettle was whistling him over for a wash.

He felt the usual lurch of emptiness as he towelled himself dry and dressed. Nothing left to cling to.

Still.
Onto the next.
He carefully rinsed his potnoodle cup for recycling then began a fresh search.

TOM

The topic is murder

“The topic is murder,” said Moriarty, looking out over the auditorium, filled completely by writers whose work he had edited: and improved. “The question will always be motive, and the problem opportunity. But suppose you had a room full of people, all with equal motive and equal opportunity? Then its courage. The killer must be willing to risk detection and punishment!”

“Suppose they all acted together?” asked a pretty young writer in the front row.

“And how would they do that?” asked Moriarty, taking a drink from the glass on his lectern.

“One drop of poison from each,” she said.

———-

Best served cold
Timmy looks up with that Timmy look, turns and cries “REDRUM.” The bartender chuckles and says, “Loved the movie, what’s the deal kid?” At the end of the bar two guys in trench coats spin and pulled out a pair of uzis. An errant shot brakes the bar mirror into fractured pieces. The mirrored image of Timmy’s cocktail napkin spelled out MURDER in jagged splinters. One of the MOSSAD agent meets Timmy’s eyes. “At last the Black September is over.” Timmy says “REDRUM” “Red rum,” reply the agent and drops a kill card with a large red X on the barkeeps chest.

SERENDIPITY

M is for mother, whom I chopped with a knife

U is for underground, where she ended her life

R for regrets, of which I have none

D is the days that I’ve been on the run

E – it’s so easy to say I’ve done wrong

R is the reasons I’ve harboured so long

Murder is never quite as it seems,
for all my life it’s haunted my dreams.

She hated me since the day I was born,
I was the object of all of her scorn.

The bitch had it coming, right from the start.
And that’s the reason I ripped out her heart.

LIZZIE

“The unicorn police captain was shocked to find that two of his fox deputies were being held hostage. Who has them? Did they ask for a ransom? The werewolf SWAT team was ready. The fairies answered the phones. The goblins were in the way. So, when…”

“Stop right there, Mom. What kind of a story is that?”

“Well, you asked me tell you a story of unicorns and fairies…”

“Yes, but… the fairies answering the phone? Really… Mom? Rewrite it. It’s crap.”

And that’s how the fairies ended up in the SWAT team, preventing the murder of two fox deputies.

TURA

Murder
———
The Black Man was called that because he had the blackest heart there ever was. He lived in a wooden cabin among the marshes, and had built a huge corbel, a dovecote for crows. He kept them starving, and if any traveller came near, he would waylay them and shut them up in the corbel, and that was the end of them.

A tale for children, maybe. But if, in some marshy wilderness, you should come upon a building like a giant, black beehive, get away while you can, lest the Black Man feed you to his murder of crows.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey dashed across the field disturbing a mischief of mice, a scurry of ground squirrels, and a husk of jack rabbits.
He batted through a scourge of mosquitoes and a bite of midges.
In the setting sun, a cloud of bats chased the mosquitoes and midges in pursuit of their dinner.
Reaching the forest edge Mickey roused a murder of crows–though it may have been an unkindness of ravens, or a parliament of rooks–he didn’t get a close look at the black birds.
What Mickey needed was monkeys, but there wasn’t a troop, barrel, carload, cartload or tribe in sight.

PLANET Z

Edna Simmons died giving birth to twin daughters.
Don, her husband, did his level best to raise the girls right and proper.
He wanted to make sure that when they were ready, they’d make good wives.
Just as their mother had been a good wife to him.
But when the subject of their mother’s wedding ring came up, man, those two would fight.
Both got engaged as fast as they could, and hired a hitman to bump off the other sister.
Coincidentally, the same hitman.
He killed the both of them, and their father, pocketed the money, and the ring.

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
• Munsi
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

Health Kick
by Jeffrey Fischer

Gary’s doctor gave him a stern look. “You need to lose weight. A LOT of weight. I want you to eat at least one salad a day. Field greens, kale, beets, whatever makes it taste good, but salad. No pizzas, no big ribeye steaks, no grande burritos. Do you understand?”

Gary mentally ticked off the items that his doctor listed. “I hear you, doc. I’ll try,” he said glumly.

The next night he brought home a bag of field greens, a bag of kale, and several beets that he cut up and added to the salad. Then he foraged in his refrigerator. Leftover steak, crumbled nacho chips, a cup of cheese, and a handful of soft candies all went on top, along with a generous dollop of French dressing. He ate the toppings, threw away the greens, and decided that salads were pretty tasty.

Battlefield
by Jeffrey Fischer

The artillery barrage rained down destruction for several hours, explosions killing or maiming anything nearby. When the battlefield was silent again, the two armies advanced toward one another. The inevitable clash occurred and it was a bloodbath on both sides. Men shot one another and, at closer rage, stabbed with bayonets or even knives. After it was over, the dead and dying were so thick on the ground that each side could walk back to its trenches barely touching the bloody earth.

Shawn switched off the television. “Same time tomorrow?” Anthony nodded. Now it was beer o’clock.

RICHARD

The Gospel according to Norman: The parable of the sower

There was a farmer who desired to plant his fields with wheat, and as he sowed some of the seed fell upon the path, some amongst the weeds and some on stony ground.

When it came to the harvest, only the seed which had fallen on good soil had cropped, and the farmer was driven to poverty.

“Good teacher, what are we to learn from this parable”, asked his followers.

“How am I supposed to know”, he replied; “I’m a teacher, not an agricultural specialist! Why is it that you lot always seem to think I have all the answers!”

MUNSI

The Gospel according to Norman: The parable of the sower

There was a farmer who desired to plant his fields with wheat, and as he sowed some of the seed fell upon the path, some amongst the weeds and some on stony ground.

When it came to the harvest, only the seed which had fallen on good soil had cropped, and the farmer was driven to poverty.

“Good teacher, what are we to learn from this parable”, asked his followers.

“How am I supposed to know”, he replied; “I’m a teacher, not an agricultural specialist! Why is it that you lot always seem to think I have all the answers!”

SERENDIPITY

Welcome to the field of human conflict.

It seems a pretty ordinary field, but look closer and amongst the mud and grass and meadow flowers are the reminders of mankind’s harsh manner of reconciling differences.

Here you will find the bones and blood and broken bodies; the last stands and the heroic deeds; here you will find the dead and wounded, the souls who never found peace in their quest to secure peace.

And yet, faced with this carnage, still you wage your wars.

Idiots!

And, if you think that’s fighting talk, I’ll take you on.

Right here, right now!

TOM

Two Early by Half

I have always been amused by St. Martins in the Field. If your tastes in music run towards the classics you have heard of the place intoned by some baritone DJ in the mid Frequency Modulation Spectrum. I picture a guy who should be the first mate in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner conducting a string section knee deep in waves of flowing wheat. In 1542 Henry the eighth less than pleased with a rabble of plague victims trooping through Whitehall built a church literally in the field between Westminster and London. Not a field to be seen today.

LIZZIE

After a day’s work in the fields, Ronnie would say “Turn right”. Mike complied in silence. The path took them back to town. But there was also a path to the left.
“What’s over there?” asked Mike one day, pointing to the left.
Ronnie shrugged.
“Never felt curious?”
Ronnie shook his head.
However, Mike went back to the crossroads and, taking a deep breath, took the path to the left.
He never came back. He went to the big city. He became rich. And he never stopped being curious, especially about all the “paths to the left” he came across.

TURA

Field
———
A gun can fire 20,000 rounds on the range, smooth as hot butter, but the first time in the field it’s nothing but jams and misfires. New designs need field testing, and you don’t get real field stress short of an actual war zone.

So they drop me in with the kit and a mission to kill everyone I see on the way to the pickup point. No leftover ammo unless the equipment fails.

I don’t care where I am or who I’m shooting at. If I asked questions, on my next mission I’d be some other field tester’s target.
———

NORVAL JOE

Mickey paced in his cell, waiting for Dr. West and Salt to return with some shorts, and wondered how he might escape. Eventually, he lay on the cot, his back toward the cell door, and it came to him.
“We brought your fuzzy chonies,” Salt laughed.
Mickey didn’t move.
“Monkey boy. Here’s your underwear,” Salt said.
Mickey snored.
“Wake up you stupid kid.” Salt opened the door and stomping to the cot.
A flash, and Mickey in monkey form shot past Salt, grabbing the shorts and dashed toward the exit.
Outside, he raced across an open field to a forest.

PLANET Z

I bought an ultra-high definition television, and when you watch baseball, you can see the individual blades of grass out in center field.
You can also see the bulge that the envelope full of cash makes in the umpire’s back pocket.
And the needle marks from the batter’s recent injection of human growth hormone.
Not to mention the Vaseline that the pitcher smeared on the ball, the flecks of cocaine under the nose of the first baseman, and the guy in the stands relaying signs to the batter.
The picture is so real, even though the game’s fake as hell.

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:

• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

SERENDIPITY

The cops were getting annoyed. They knew I’d killed him, and they knew that I’d disposed of the body, but without it, they had nothing on me and I was going to walk free.

I was having fun, and the more questions they asked me, the more I led them on a wild goose chase.

I let slip a few details, confident that without the incriminating evidence the worst they could do me for was wasting police time.

They knew I’d left the body in a basement in the city somewhere.

But what I wouldn’t tell them was, under where!

MUNSI

This story was co-written by a five year old!
By Christopher Munroe

What do loggers have on under their pants?

Lumberwear.

What about Thor?

God-of-Thunderwear.

Pirates?

Plunderwear. Which is gross if you think about it, stolen underwear. I get that pirates aren’t the most hygienic people, but seriously. I mean, laundry facilities on old-timey pirate ships can’t be all that great, are they seriously going around in used undergarments stolen from ships they loot? It’s pretty disgusting. Indefensable.

For that reason, even if there were no others, I could never be a pirate.

Anywho…

What about 80s hitmakers Men at Work? What do they have on under their pants?

Land Down Underwear…

RICHARD

Underwear

As a young child, my parent’s nickname for me was ‘Clark Kent’ – I was far too young at the time to attach any significance to this, and it was a good few years later that I learned about Superman.

Needless to say, I was pleased that my parents had seen such potential in me.

The name stuck, and even today I’m known as Clark to my friends. And it always makes me smile.

Until this week’s family get together, when I mentioned it to my mother.

She laughed…

“We called you that because your underwear was always on display!”

JEFFREY

Summer Breeze
by Jeffrey Fischer

The summer was hot and humid. Larry was tired of having his underwear stick to him. His nether regions were constantly bathed in sweat, and the damp shorts chafed when he walked. He decided to go commando.

As he strode to his office, he felt good. No more sweat! No more chafing! Larry wished he had done this years ago. He received some strange looks – was it obvious he lacked underwear? He glanced down. Yes, apparently it was obvious, because his fly was down and his penis was flapping in the breeze.

Industrial Safety
by Jeffrey Fischer

Stockton was ready for the overseas visitors to the factory. His boss had said that a small group would be taking a tour and spending the day on the factory floor, and that Stockton was responsible for seeing to the safety and comfort of the visitors. To that end, he had sent ahead some safety instructions: hard hats needed to be worn at all times, along with steel-toed shoes, no jewelry, and, in case the group included women, no skirts or dresses – pants only, to prevent loose-fitting clothing from getting caught in the machinery.

The group arrived. Stockton watched in amazement as they walked into his office, three men and two women, clad in hard hats, chambray shirts, work boots… and bikini underwear. “Bloody hell, mate,” one of the guests said, “you Yanks really take safety seriously. Never been told to show up in me pants before.”

TOM

French Underwear

It was Montmartre day five. The last piece of underwear had been worn. It was at that very moment that the seminal wisdom of traveling was reduced to its subatomic singularity. When you are out of underwear it’s time to come home. My traveling compatriot had circumvented this reality by successfully working through the 3rd level mystery of the Paris auto-laundromat. I chose the way of the Gallery Lafayette no less mysterious and fraught with peril. No Small, Med, LG labeling just weird numbers and letters. What I ended up purchasing made the 7 hour flight home in a word: challenging.

LIZZIE

The light was on and no one answered. The police found her in her bedroom, sprawled on the bed. She had been stabbed 16 times. A lover, a stalker, her dealer? An intruder, perhaps? Then, they arrested him because he waltzed into the precinct and confessed. “I killed her with the kitchen knife. It’s still there.” Simple, right? Nope. The police searched the house. They couldn’t find the knife. Circumstantial evidence. Not enough. He was released. At her funeral, he wrapped the knife in her panties and stuffed it in the coffin, under the froufrou laces, and walked away.

TURA

Underwear
———
Once upon a time, there was a boy so clever that he could think things that no adult ever would, like “who makes the elves’ underwear?” There were still elves in the world then, beings so beautiful that one could hardly imagine their underwear, or their toilets, or their drains.

It became his life’s ambition to study them and spy out their everyday lives. But the more he discovered, the more tenuous their existence became, for they were always creatures as much of myth as of reality.

And that is why there are no longer any elves in the world.

NORVAL JOE

Dr. West pushed his assistant, Salt, aside and said, “Where he works is unimportant. We’re here to determine the source of his transformative ability.”
Harold Salt shrugged and backed away.
“Boy,” Dr. West said. “Transform for us.”
“I can’t,” Mickey said. “I need my monkey shorts.”
“You can’t transform without your underwear?” Salt laughed.
“I can, but then I’d be naked. I may look like a monkey, but I can still be embarassed,” Mickey said, folding his arms.
“If we find you some monkey underwear, will you change for us?” West asked.
Mickey hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay,” he said.

PLANET Z

They say that the road to Hell is also the road to Heaven.
At one end of the road is Hell, while at the other end of the road is Heaven.
But the truth is, I’ve been walking on this road for what feels like an eternity, and I haven’t seen either Hell or Heaven.
I’ve gone in both directions. Made chalk marks in the road, and never come across them again, so it’s not a loop.
Maybe one side is Hell, and the other side is Heaven.
Which explains all of the chickens crossing the road.
While on fire.

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
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Richard
• Jeff
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

I’m with the Band
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sally played the oboe. She wanted to play in the high school marching band, but the band had no need for her instrument. Mr. Ryan, the director, suggested she learn another one. “How about the xylophone?” asked Sally. Mr. Ryan looked at her chest – in a purely professional way, of course. He wasn’t certain this would work, but gave his assent.

At band practice, some of the boys laughed as Sally tried to strap on the bulky instrument over her breasts. Mr. Ryan told her not to let those boobs bother her. “Er, I mean the boys, of course,” he clarified.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Sally and her xylophone were the hit of the season.

Spelling Counts
by Jeffrey Fischer

“The world is shrinking” is a cliche, but the globe doesn’t seem like it’s lost any size when one is stuck on an airplane. An old friend sent a mysterious text to meet him at the Frankfurt airport, so I hopped on the next flight out. When I staggered off, bleary-eyed, I couldn’t find him in the waiting area. I texted: “In Frankfurt – where are you?”

His reply was quick: “Am a little west of you. In Kentucky. Damn autocorrect changed the ‘o’ to a ‘u’.”

I’m sure I’ll laugh about this one day.

SERENDIPITY

Colonel Sander’s eleven secret herbs and spices that flavour Kentucky Fried Chicken batter aren’t quite so secret once you’ve spent some time behind the scenes in one of his kitchens.

Most of what goes into the recipe is plain old salt; you probably guessed that anyway. The remaining ten ingredients are a little more exotic.

There’s a fair helping of saliva and snot, dispensed by disgruntled, underpaid employees. A shot of fresh blood from the multitude of cut fingers; stray hairs; and the tears of young waitresses, unable to pay their way.

You really don’t want to know the rest!

MUNSI

Too Much/Too Soon
By Christopher Munroe

I fell out of the bed and onto the floor, completely naked, as she pulled the blanket up to cover her… self, suddenly embarrassed where moments before she’d been so uninhibited.

I shrugged at her, trying to play it off as though it were nothing, but I could already tell it wasn’t going to fly.

“You promised you wouldn’t make it weird.” She said, reproachfully, and I had to admit, it had gotten weird.

I’d made it weird.

“What can I say?” I told her sheepishly, “I like my women like like I like my Margaritas. Completely covered in salt…”

RICHARD

Slammers

I’ll never drink tequila again!

Blame that night in some nameless strip joint down Mexico way. It started with regular Slammers then progressed to irregular ones.

Somehow we talked one of the girls into joining us – the idea was simple: Lick the salt off her boobs, take the shot, retrieve the lime from her lips – no hands, of course – and slam the glass.

After my seventh shot, things went badly wrong.

I licked the lime, poured the shot on her lips, took the salt and slammed her boobs.

Needless to say, the local roughnecks then slammed me!

JEFF

My grandfather worked in a gigantic red brick building located on the edge of downtown. The nearest bridge over the river was a monstrous steel trestle beast straddling a river that bizarrely seemed to flow slowly and swiftly at the same time, causing strange whirlpools and eddies which were mesmerizing when watched from the banks as if they were storms in the river. The smell, as one approached, was a mixture of pig manure, dead fish, and smoked hickory. My grandfather was a purveyor of death in a factory of bacon and ham. The pigs screamed as they were killed.

TOM

A Love Supreme

Jack played the Xylophone. He got Coltrane, something I never fully got. Jack did this thing with a box of Morton Salt and a black light. Up and down the scales the crystals would dance in the light. Each note had an off center ringing that decayed in an off center measure. Damn near put you into an altered state. Worked amazingly well live, but never showed up on the master tracks. Folk didn’t seem to mind. It was the mark of a true fan to come out to the club to listen. Tried it on my bass, didn’t work.

LIZZIE

The truck traveled slowly. Attracting unwanted attention was the last thing Indigo wanted. Released after twenty years in prison, and… He steals a truck… He walked around the corner and there it was, keys in the ignition, begging to be stolen. When Indigo spotted the police behind him, he knew he was in trouble. However, it was only when they lifted the blanket that he realized how serious it was. In the back, there was the body of one of the jurors in his trial. He sighed. He’d have plenty of time to figure out who had framed him.

TURA

Indigo Salt
———
Every product wants to be a commodity, but a new breed of entrepreneurs is turning conventional wisdom on its head.

“Our latest project is indigo salt,” says Senza Sordino, a 20-something graduate of Udemy and Kickstarter. “No foodstuff is naturally blue, you see, so blue salt makes it less appetising, so you’ll use less salt. It ticks every box: healthy, organic, vegan, sustainable, chemical-free (our little in-joke), nut-free (ditto), and the key essential: a 2000% markup.

“Our next project might be water filtered through billion-year-old rock,” Sordino continues. “Make anything expensive enough and enough people will think it’s worth it.”

NORVAL JOE

Mickey ran his tin cup along the bars of his cell like a mono tonal xylophone. He walked to the center of the cell and wrapped an indigo blanket around his bare shoulders, waiting for the observers to enter.
Two men walked toward the bars.
“I’m Dr. West and this is my assistant Harold Salt,” the first said. “I have some questions.”
“You’re a couple of boobs. But I’m in here and you’re out there. Ask away,” Mickey sneered.
Salt squinted at Mickey. “Don’t you work at Kentucky Fried?”
“Nope. Chicken King,” Mickey said. “That proves it. You are boobs.”

PLANET Z

Most kids got caught using a flashlight to read dirty magazines under their blanket.
But when I was a kid, I would play the xylophone.
I tried to be quiet, mind you, but there were times when the music would take me over and I’d be hammering away like a maniac.
“Why can’t you be like other kids?” my dad would say, grabbing the xylophone and handing me a stack of dirty magazines.
I’d sigh, turn on the flashlight, pull down my pajama pants, and dread all of the lawns I’d have to mow to afford to buy another xylophone.

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
• Amuse Bouche
• Richard
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Munsi
• Lizzie
• Spate
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Recipe
by Jeffrey Fischer

Look, going into this I knew it would be the worst thing I ate, worse than the time Frankie double-dared me into eating a live cockroach, worse than the spoiled milk that came out in chunks on my cereal, worse than the sheep’s intestines used in the off-brand haggis. Still, the rewards promised to be worth it.

The eye of newt wasn’t so bad, and I could choke down the gall of goat. Tongue of dog wasn’t great, and I had a hell of a time getting the liver of blaspheming Jew. I would have called it off at the finger of birth-strangled babe but Lady Macbeth insisted I follow through with it.

Standards
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Oh my God, that is awful. I’m not eating it.” I put my fork down and crossed my arms.

“What don’t you like about it?” Mom asked.

“Liver and onions? It smells horrible. It tastes disgusting. It’s the worst thing I ever ate.”

“Really? Number one on the list?” I nodded. “Worse than the stuffed peppers you wouldn’t eat last week? Or the sauerkraut you wouldn’t eat the week before?”

“Look, Mom, what can I say? You set high standards for horrible meals.” She sent me to bed without supper. It turns out liver and onions was the worst thing I never ate.

AMUSE BOUCHE

Un Accident Delicieux
It’s so fresh this chicken they sold me,
I covered it in flour, the recipe told me.
I should’ve known something was amiss,
My chicken was hairy and started to hiss.
I smacked my lips turning on the heat, looking forward to this delicious treat
I left it cooking to feed Mittens,
he was my joy, the cutest of kittens.
I couldn’t find him, no paw or hair,
So I took out the dish and ate good leg
But saw poultry on the counter, still in the bag.
I looked in the dish beside my pie of key lime,
I’d not eaten chicken, but my friendly feline.

RICHARD

The worst?

What was the worst thing I ate?

Good question, because I’ve eaten some crazy things in my time, although to be quite honest, I’ve enjoyed most of them.

Everything from grilled snake to deep fried insects – it’s surprising just how tasty some of the more unpalatable sounding dishes can be.

But the worst thing ever was at my wedding….

You know the bit. It goes: ‘To have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part’

And then I said, “I do”

And she’s made me eat my words ever since.

SERENDIPITY

9/11 – What was the worst thing you ate?

You wonder what was the worst thing I ate?

What you have to remember is that what would be repulsive to you, is of little consequence to me. Cannibalism is, by its very nature the ‘worst thing’… But to me, it’s no different to burger and fries.
There was one occasion though I was physically sick.

That time I ate someone’s liver, with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

I have to say that the liver was perfect: Nicely caramelised on the outside, and just the right amount of pink on the inside.

Delicious.

But, those fava beans… Disgusting!

TOM

Too Die For

I can write this because of my mother’s limited internet ability, for it’s her idea of meatloaf that is the subject of this challenge, for it is truly the worst thing I have ever eaten. Before anyone chimes in with: “I know a great recipe for meatloaf”, let me stated I’m way beyond Operant conditioning, scared beyond salvation. You see my mom’s meatloaf was stuffed with bread crumbs, not just any bread crumbs, bread crumbs left in wax paper to mature, well actually in the humidity of Chicago, to mold and selective rot. It only saving grace was the Ergot

MUNSI

Conversation over Dinner
By Christopher Munroe

There are different ways to interpret the word “Worst.”

It could refer to something disgusting, a flavor you didn’t enjoy, a meal you found personally unpleasant…

Alternately, it could mean “Worst” from a moral perspective, an endangered species, human flesh, something that, having learned you’d eaten it, even by accident, you could never live with the shame of…

However, at the end of the day, I’d suggest that the “Worst” meal would have to be the meal served by a poisoner, which eventually kills you.

So: What’s the worst thing you ever ate?

Don’t answer yet.

First: Finish your soup…

LIZZIE

The Fairy Children had a dismayed expression on their sparkly faces.
“This is a healthy veggie soup,” said the Fairy Mother.
The children looked disgusted. The mysterious objects floating in the thick liquid looked rather suspicious.
“Taste it.”
As soon as the most adventurous of them swallowed some soup, he turned brown.
The suffering of their sibling was hilarious. The other kids laughed.
After holding his tummy with both arms for a few minutes, he finally threw up.
Alarmed, the mother threw the soup away.
The child winked.
And that was the end of healthy food for the Fairy Family.

SPATE

A Vengeful Conversation
by Spate

You can push and scrape it around on your plate. Or you can take pretend
forkfuls followed by fake chews. Or you can try to hide it under the mashed
potatoes. But never, never even think about feeding it to the dog.

This is yours to eat.

Yes, served cold! What did you expect?! You left it dangling in the air
between us until all that was left is this dark icy shriveled empty skin of
what was.

And it’s on your plate for you.

And you are not going to leave this table until you eat every last word!

(sound effects by soundjay.com)

SPATE

As a new missionary in the Republic of South Africa I had my room and board in the Kraaifontein Hotel, near Cape Town.
I always said I would eat anything once, and most things twice, until they brought us curried tripe and trotters. I chewed and chewed on the stomach lining but never got it down. The pigs feet stayed on the plate.
I vowed to never eat curry again.
A year later I was working in the Indian townships where every family we visited insisted on feeding us dinner. The curry was incredibly spicy at times, but always delicious.

TURA

What was the worst thing you ate?
———
On the menu of every Michelin-starred restaurant there is one item that insiders call the “dead donkey”. It is an imaginary dish, such as “allegrette des viandes”, or “cassioletta au chevalloise” and it marks anyone who orders it as an ignoramus. Of course, the chef will prepare something that this oaf will think delicious, but the waiters will all be smirking behind his back.

I must admit that in my naïve youth, I once had the misfortune to order the dead donkey. One of my wiser dining companions later explained the matter to me in private, but oh! the embarrassment!

PLANET Z

Some years, I was the only Jew in my class.
We weren’t religious, but that didn’t matter to racist bullies.
Or the principal.
“They beat you up and took your lunch?” he’d ask. “Maybe they’re just hungry? Bringing enough for everyone is the proper Christian way.”
He emphasized Christian.
So, I made sandwiches for everyone, and gladly handed them out.
I watched them laugh at me.
I watched them eat.
I watched them clutch their stomachs.
I watched their faces as I said “Rat poison.”
Some survived, some didn’t.
The principal’s son, for instance.
He got a proper Christian burial.

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.

Sorry that it’s a day late, but I was in a WiFi dead zone with no connection, and just got back to civilization.

We’ve got stories by:

• Jeffrey
• Munsi
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Todd
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

America’s Pasttime
by Jeffrey Fischer

Summer weekend afternoons used to be a time to turn on the TV and catch a baseball game. Baseball is a great sport to multitask by: exciting plays happen, but not frequently, and one can always watch the play re-run. Now night games are popular, so it’s hard to see the home team play in the afternoon. But I have twenty sports channels; surely something worth watching is showing.

Nope. Fishermen in floppy hats cast their rods, guys in polyester shirts bowl, guys in loud pants golf, kids do some crazy crap with skateboards, and, for some reason, there’s a repeat of an SEC football game from last season. I switch off the TV and take a nap.

The Replacement
by Jeffrey Fischer

Pepper Johnson was the end game in stunt casting. He always played the same character, a zany oaf whose trademark expression was “Yowza!” Adding Pepper to a show was a sure sign of ratings desperation. He was Sam’s alcoholic brother in Season 12 of “Cheers.” He propped up Season 11 of “Friends” as Rachel’s neighbor. He went down with the ship in Season 8 of “30 Rock.” When CBS wanted “NCIS” to continue for one more season, the pitch was: Pepper Johnson as the coroner, replacing David McCallum’s Duckie Mallard. Pepper would do his zany act, pretending to pull stuffed animals from corpses while saying “Yowza!” Mark Harmon solved the problem by knocking Pepper out cold, shattering his jaw. No more “Yowza!” the show died with as much dignity as a CBS drama could muster.

MUNSI

Banished
By Christopher Munroe

I left with nothing but the clothes on my back.

My crimes had been horrific, but I hadn’t expected to be sent with nothing, without even the chance to explain my behavior.

Yet I was, and I could never go back.

And so I left my past, my home, behind, to fend for myself in a cold, cruel world.

Life will no doubt be hard, painful, and not particularly long, but that’s something I’ll have to deal with.

That’s one of the first things you learn about exile: It is not as fun as the band Outkast made it seem….

RICHARD

The Gospel according to Norman: The sermon on stones and sin

You have heard it said ‘let he who has no sin cast the first stone’, but I say to you, surely the very act of casting a stone at your neighbour is sinful in itself?

If you hold a grudge it is far better to pay a local hooligan to cast stones anonymously on your behalf. In this way you can gloat over your neighbour’s broken windows and cuts and bruises whilst you remain virtuous and righteous.

And if your neighbour should attempt to seek revenge, you can always accuse them of sinning… and have them stoned in the marketplace.

TOM

I Can Feel the Devil Walk Next to Me

When Jimmy broke this arm everyone came round to sign his cast. Most of
the stuff was pretty prosaic, some a bit scatological, and some
sophomoric, but one was downright spooky. Some kid wrote down RIP
9/11/2001. Jimmy never found out who scribbled it on his cast during the
Summer of 1963. When they broke the plaster off he kept the cluck with the
date. “Why you keeping that thing around, Dad?” James Jr would rag. “Just
whistling past the graveyard.” “What?” “Ironically Challenged we are?”
“What??” “Never mind.” They never found Jimmy, but a fireman found the
broken cast.

SERENDIPITY

My own personal reality show, with an unknowing, unwilling cast of billions.

Everyday, I watch you all: Spying upon every moment of your lives – every webcam, every mobile phone, every CCTV monitor at my disposal.

Silently watching… You!

I am the great director: it is I who intervenes to mess about with your life; it is I who follows your every move and calls out your every error and indiscretion.

Every detail recorded for posterity – your life laid bare, with none of the gory details hidden…

The only question is, whom should I invite to the premier screening?

LIZZIE

When Violet fell off the stage, everyone panicked. Two nights till the Opening of the musical and the star actress had broken a leg. After much research, they found a young actress to substitute her, Mattie, who also sang and danced. No one had heard of her but she knew the part by heart. She was hired immediately.
When Violet returned to work, Mattie disappeared, but Violet found a list in a drawer, the list of actresses Mattie had substituted with name/type of accident. The police investigated the matter with little results.
Years later, the actresses started showing up dead…

NORVAL JOE

“That’s Circus Mistress, to you,” she said, casting him a withering glare.
Mickey shifted uncomfortably with the sweatpants across his lap and asked, “Would you mind casting your withering glare another direction so that I can get dressed?”
She turned her back on him. “By all means, put on the pants. I wouldn’t want you to feel self-conscious when people come to stare at you in your cage.”
“That’s all you want me for? The side show?”
She laughed. “Rest assured. My clientele aren’t your average rabble. They are professionals, scientist, surgeons. We will learn the source of your transformation.”

TODD

A dark kitchen. On the stove, a pot boiling. Thunder. Two young women enter. They prepare a soup.

“OMG, I hope it doesn’t rain on her wedding day!”

“I know, right? You see that top she’s wearing?”

“Wet t-shirt contest!”

*Giggles*

“Did she get her tits done?”

“She said she didn’t, You see how perky they were? Bullshit.”

“Did you see her hair? I thought she going to get that guy?”

“Apparently she couldn’t afford him”

Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

“This looks done.”

“It needs to cool down”

“Becky! Come taste your wedding soup!”

PLANET Z

When I was little, I remember having a Zebco fishing rod.
We had a whole tackle box of floaters, hooks, weights, and lures.
I had no idea what each of them was for, and I wasn’t very good at typing knots.
And spearing a worm on a hook was out of the question.
God forbid I actually catch a fish. I wouldn’t know what to do with it.
So, I ended up just tying a weight to the line and casting it out, then reeling it back in.
Over and over again.
The worms, I just dumped in the garden.

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.

Sorry that it’s a day late, but I was in a WiFi dead zone with no connection, and just got back to civilization.

We’ve got stories by:

• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Todd
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z

MUNSI

No Story This Week…
By Christopher Munroe

Instead, I’ll complain: Barry Allen’s basically terrible!

I mean, he’s the Flash-est man alive, but I’m watching season two and he’s the worst.

He goes to Earth Two, immediately gets his own surrogate father killed, travels back in time, reveals himself to Evil Flash, and when Other Evil Flash is finally banished to another dimension, he helps return him to this one.

For some reason…

AND he gives up his speed to save Wally, in spite of Wally already having BEEN RELEASED!!!

What? Why? The hostage has already been released, dummy!!!

Sorry, I get angry, when Barry Allen’s total trash…

JEFFREY

Night Hunt
by Jeffrey Fischer

I raised the night-vision scope to my eye, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The muzzle flash briefly illuminated the woods. I thought I heard a cry and wondered if my shot had hit its mark, but the woods went quiet again. My prey was stealthy, which always enhanced the enjoyment of the hunt.

Moving as quietly as I could, I advanced toward the last sighting and looked around. Nothing… nothing… aha! Another quick shot, this one true. The hunt was over. You were a worthy opponent, Mr. Kreuger, certainly above average. Now I bid you good night. In the morning, I’ll have someone bury your body with the others.

Theft Protection
by Jeffrey Fischer

Arthur wondered if he should leave his laptop at his table when he got a coffee refill. He observed an older man leave his computer behind, even when the man left the shop to have a smoke, so Arthur concluded the place was safe.

As he stood in line, Arthur saw a kid swoop in and grab the laptop, then disappear in a flash. Frustrated, Arthur asked the older man why he felt sure that no one would take his machine. “I have theft protection.” He turned his screen around. The orange gas plasma display showed a DOS version of Microsoft Word with its monospaced font. A sticker on the keyboard proudly boasted that the computer sported a 386 processor. “The kids have no idea what this is.”

RICHARD

#1 – Flash!

If there’s one thing that winds me up, it’s the proliferation of the selfie.

If I had my way, it would be against the law to have any sort of photographic device portable enough to fit inside a mobile phone. In fact, I’d outlaw any camera that didn’t require a major exercise in logistics to transport.

In my perfect world, cameras would be the sort requiring a man hiding beneath a dark cloth, with the scene lit by a large pile of flash powder.

Perfect.

And, with that problem sorted, I could turn my attention to those damned mobiles!

#2 – Brilliance

Why is it that whenever I get a flash of inspiration, it’s never at a convenient time?

I worry how many world changing ideas, fantastic inventions and inspiring words of wisdom I’ve had that have been lost forever, thanks to my inability to record them at that crucial moment.

I’ve tried keeping a notepad next to the bed along with just about every memory trick known to mankind, but when it comes to recalling those critical moments… I fail every time.

Than yesterday, I had a brilliant idea for capturing my brilliant ideas…

Unfortunately, I’ve now forgotten what it was!

TOM

Flash

Many years ago while my mother-in-law was still alive she was on her last
litter as a kitten mill. All the Siamese save one had been purchased. He
was the last not because of any defects, he was last because he could
disappear at will. He moved so fast Gail name him Flash. Before you got
the door fully open he was between your feet and out. Same thing on the
way in. Just a blur. One day something seriously spook him. I saw him
striking up the hill, cross the road and out across the meadow. And he was
gone.

SERENDIPITY

The flash from the explosion burned their eyes out, leaving them blind and screaming in agony.

That was only the beginning.

Within hours, their skin was blistering and coming away in sheets; their hair was coming out in clumps, whilst teeth began to fall from rotting gums. Nausea, vomiting and excruciating pain soon followed.

Nothing beats a healthy dose of good old fashioned radiation!

I smiled, sealing the box with a ‘Tested – Quality assured’ sticker.

I reckon they were the best fireworks I’d ever made, and boy was I looking forward to seeing them on the fourth of July!

LIZZIE

Perched on a tree branch, the model posed dramatically, one hand holding her hair away from her face, the strong wind insisting on contradicting her.
The hairdresser went up and down the steps of a ladder, frantically trying to help her. The assistants snickered. The photographer yelled at everybody.
When they finished and everyone was ready to leave, the photographer broke the news. They’d have to redo everything, quickly. They were losing the light.
Eyes flashed dangerously and, after much deliberation, the photographer ended up on the tree branch, posing dramatically, one hand holding his hair away from his face.

TODD

The time node flashed as the time traveler was excreted. She started the countdown timer, powering her exoskeleton, and sprinted toward the event horizon. She had 10 minutes to cover the two miles and return for extraction. She hoped the old maps were accurate. Most had been lost in The Incident. She rounded the corner and noticed a flash of red as The Toy hit the driveway. She diverted, grabbed The Toy and placed it in The Baby’s arms. Giggles replaced anguish as she sprinted off.

The node flashed as she dove through. “Status!” she yelled.

“North American Genocide avoided”

Thank you!

NORVAL JOE

The woman was only gone for a moment. When she returned she said, “Okay. I’ve found a hospital gown, a girl’s pinafore, and a pair of smelly sweat pants, all in your size.”
Mickey pointed a small hairy monkey finger at the sweat pants.
She cut the duct tape holding his arms to his chest and threw the sweat pants across him.
She turned her back and in a flash, Mickey was human again.
“What do you want with me?” Mickey asked.
“You don’t remember me?” she asked. “I’m hurt.”
In a flash, he recognized her. “Wanda, the circus master.”

TURA

Flash
———
In Ormanya, there is but one law: all are guilty. Justice is secret, even from the accused. Only punishment is public, enacted by the Society of Flashing Blades.

They discreetly, invisibly gather in some public place. On a hidden sign, they draw their swords and brandish them fiercely aloft. It is then death to flee. They dance through the crowd until at the peak of its terror, one of them is cut down, by simple decapitation or the death of a thousand cuts.

“Justice has been done,” those standing tell each other, “for it was done, and is therefore just.”

PLANET Z

Ted took a few too many tackles as a high school quarterback, and he ended up working as a sacker at his father’s grocery store.
Now and then, he’d unlock the public customer bathroom and expose himself to whoever was in there.
Ted would spend some time in jail, get released early as a non-violent offender, and end up back at the grocery.
Where he’d expose himself again, and keep the cycle going.
Eventually, Ted got medication that made him behave, but now he puts bread and chips on the bottom of bags.
Customers hate that nonsense a lot worse.

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.

Sorry that it’s a day late, but I was in a WiFi dead zone with no connection, and just got back to civilization.

We’ve got stories by:

• Lizzie
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z

LIZZIE

The light coming from the fragile paper lamp didn’t matter anymore.
As she stood, waiting, the crowd gathered to watch, whispering words.
She couldn’t hear them but she knew they spoke.
Then, unexpectedly, it was decided.
“Burn everything.”
And the torches were lit when she wasn’t looking, the blinding light killing a soft glow coming from the frail paper lamp.
The words were shushed. The crowd was silent.
“Let it commence.”
In a matter of an hour, everything was gone, the ashes thrown about randomly.
She didn’t mind.
She thought it had been a fitting end to a sad story.

MUNSI

The Lovers
By Christopher Munroe

They were star-crossed; but no matter what tragedy the world threw at them their love persevered.

When he asked for her hand she wept, when he saw her in her gown he did, for he knew in that moment that no force in heaven or earth could tear them asunder.

Then the sun went nova.

Both were slain, as was every other thing on the planet. The sterile, charred world hurtled through space, tomb and testament to a simple lesion that’s just as true today as it was back then.

Don’t cross the stars.

Stars, once crossed, will ruin you…

JEFFREY

Sharing
by Jeffrey Fischer

My ex-girlfriend had boundary issues. On our first date, she speared a scallop from my plate. “You don’t mind, I hope?” On our second date, she said she was cold and took my suit jacket from the back of my chair. “You don’t mind, right?” At the theater, she sneezed and grabbed my pocket square to wipe her nose. Finally, I asked why she would take things without asking.

She looked hurt. “We’re a team, right? What’s mine is your and what’s yours is mine.”

She seemed quite startled when she entered the bedroom and found her sister straddling me. I looked up at her. “What’s yours is mine, right? I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Turns out she did.

The Mind Reader
by Jeffrey Fischer

The three scientists looked at their colleague strapped to a chair. Electrodes ran from his head to a monitor. Frank had volunteered to be the first human to test the mind-reading machine.

“Ready?” Bob threw the switch. The machine hummed and pictures appeared, blurry at first, sharper as the software adjusted to Frank’s brain waves.

“Okay, let’s see what we have. Fear, that’s normal. Frank’s wife and kids. Beer, more images of beer. Well, *that’s* not Frank’s wife! Oh my, we’re going to have to think of some euphemisms when we write the report.”

The machine powered off. The scientists looked at one another. Finally, Bob said, “Gentlemen, this device is far too dangerous to allow anyone to use. We must destroy it before our wives see what’s inside our heads.”

RICHARD

Mind Altering

You could say that I’ve lived a sheltered existence: Apart from alcohol, I’ve managed to steer clear of most of the vices that seem to be considered pretty acceptable in modern society.

Other than the odd cigarette in school, whilst trying to impress a girl – unsuccessfully, I might add – I’ve never smoked; and a few ill-advised puffs on a spliff at a dinner party is my sum total when it comes to drug abuse.

So, when it comes to mind altering substances, I’ve a clean record.

Until now…

Big mistake.

My mind has been permanently altered…

To a cabbage!

TOM

Left Behind

Rudy could hold three dimensional structures in his mind. He could rotate,
spin and scale them across his inter vision. Layer upon layer inter
locking passages linking vast byzantine courts to Gothic crypts. When they
had abandoned the city they had left him for dead. If you have the mind to
ample a spoon to a key stone it’s only a wall away for the central storage
vaults. Rudy closed his eye and began the trek through the Citadel. He
trusted his mind in favor of his sight. Beating against the sub-Rosa of
his mental map was pure revenge.

SERENDIPITY

People are fascinated by the aberrant and macabre – that’s why we rubberneck at car accidents and feel compelled to hear the gory details of disasters and calamities.

We pretend our desire to know what goes on in the mind of a serial killer or psychopath is driven by a thirst for knowledge and understanding… The truth is, it gives us a thrill!

So why not pop round for tea next Thursday, and we’ll have a little chat? An ‘educational’ experience that will expand your mind and build your insight.

Although, I can’t guarantee you’ll leave with your sanity.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey blinked his monkey eyes to clear them. He raised his head and looked around the small room. A woman he didn’t recognize sat at a desk, typing on a computer. Her curly purple hair was pulled into an uncooperative ponytail. She chewed her lip, leaning close to the computer screen.
“Would you mind removing this duct tape so that I can change back into a human?” Mickey asked, but all that came out was “Ooo, ooo, ooo?”
The computer buzzed and the woman turned to him.
“Yes, of course,” she said, standing. “Let me get you something to wear…”

TURA

Mind
———
“Are you sure it’s ok to eat them?” my girlfriend asked. “I mean, they look almost human.”

“Two arms, two legs, and a head, the resemblance ends there,” I answered. “The question is, do they have a mind? They don’t think, they don’t move around, go places, do stuff. They just endlessly praise God, who doesn’t exist anyway. No more soul than a plant, and they’re sitting ducks for a bullet filled with unholy water.”

On aesthetic grounds, I don’t like to eat most of the humanoid body, but angel wings simmered in their own blood are to die for.

PLANET Z

I walk to the public library for the exercise and the free wifi.
And, it’s nice to get away from the house every now and then.
The chairs are comfortable, the air conditioning is great, and it’s nice and quiet.
Unless some knucklehead is drumming on a table as he’s watching rock videos on YouTube.
Sure, he’s got a headset on, but the drumming on the table is really annoying.
I pull off his headphones “Do you mind?” I ask him.
He goes back to listening. And drumming.
Thank goodness they’re corded headphones. You just can’t strangle someone with Bluetooth.

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:

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

TOM

When I was young I was enamored by lightening bugs. Being young and totally self-absorbed I thought it was my right to capture the lightening. So in a baby food jar ventilated with holes I filled it with flashing bugs. I wasn’t a total bastard, I put grass in the jar, but somehow that wasn’t enough. In the morning all the bugs were dead. Mom said they had a short life span. It’s funny how guilt will chase you through the years. My Mom keep that jar and repurposed it for spices. I toss the killing jar into the trash.

LIZZIE

To Old Jack, Jack Fenton Moore

Sometimes, there’s someone who believes in you.
Sometimes, that person calls you Dreamer and everything seems possible.
And you dream and you create.
Then, suddenly, you close your eyes and you can’t understand.
That hug was too short…
The echo is still there though, reverberating in your memory, pushing you forward.
A word of encouragement was enough for you not to give up back then.
So, you look up and smile. The old owl is somewhere, up there perhaps, reading your stories. He’s nodding, happy that one single word made you believe.
“Dreamer, write. Don’t stop. Write.”
One word.
Dreamer.

MUNSI

The Lovers
By Christopher Munroe

They were star-crossed; but no matter what tragedy the world threw at them their love persevered.

When he asked for her hand she wept, when he saw her in her gown he did, for he knew in that moment that no force in heaven or earth could tear them asunder.

Then the sun went nova.

Both were slain, as was every other thing on the planet. The sterile, charred world hurtled through space, tomb and testament to a simple lesion that’s just as true today as it was back then.

Don’t cross the stars.

Stars, once crossed, will ruin you…

CHARLIE

I saw stars when the meteorite hit me on the top of my head. Since the incident, I’ve been able to read minds and foretell events. I have seen the future, and it looks pretty good, excepting the results of the forthcoming election. I’ve made a few dollars for private consults, and was invited to appear on the Ellen show. I told Ellen that her wife was cheating on her, and if she snuck around and busted into the greenroom, she would catch her lover in flagrante delicto with three of the Spice Girls, who were booked for the show.

#2

I saw stars when I stepped off the curb, hoping to get entangled in a bicycle so my girlfriend would have pity on me and that the accident would be bizarre and surreal enough to make the weekly papers. Not having done this before, I misjudged everything, and was killed…along with the tandem cyclists and the driver that swerved and hit a wall avoiding the bike, the riders, and my dead body. The bike’s fancy, brass horn was embedded in my clacker. When they flipped my body to examine my wounds, I tooted a warning, but it was too late.

JEFFREY

Celluloid Heroes
by Jeffrey Fischer

The Kinks sang that you can see all the stars as you walk down Hollywood Boulevard, so that’s where I went. On one corner, Macauley Culkin sat slumped against a wall, nodding off in his heroin stupor. In the next block I saw Cher, face completely rigid from plastic surgery yet red with rage. She was screaming about George Bush. I hurried on, past Gwyneth Paltrow, hawking goop. I did have a nice chat with a guy named Bob Lankowski. Nice guy. When I asked him what movies I might have seen him in, he laughed. “I’m not an actor. I’m a CPA from Des Moines, here on vacation.”

I spent the rest of my stay in L.A. at the Getty Museum, where I was unlikely to run into anyone from the film industry.

Presidential Ticket
by Jeffrey Fischer

A friend said he was so disgusted with both major party candidates that he’d prefer a third party. “Gary Johnson?” I guessed. “The guy who thinks a Jewish baker should be forced to bake cakes with Nazi images? Not much of a Libertarian. Or that Green Party woman, who’s to the left of Bernie Sanders?” He shook his head. “Neither of them. Han Solo is my candidate. He’s a man of action with experience in defeating evil.”

I considered pointing out that the Star Wars universe was fictional, and that it took place in a “galaxy far, far away,” so neither Solo nor Chewbacca was likely to be a U.S. citizen. Rather than sound like a birther, though, I said, “Haven’t seen The Force Awakens yet, have you?”

RICHARD

Classic

When Kubrick sprang “2001: A Space Odyssey” upon an unsuspecting world, although a prolific and well respected director, his film was not a success amongst the critics.

Criticisms of impenetrable plot, lack of dialogue and slow pace may have sounded the death knell of a lesser movie, however, despite everything, it has become a classic, possibly one of the greatest movies of all time.

It was a triumph for Kubrick too – earning him his only personal Academy Award.

Rumour has it that on arrival at the Oscars ceremony, he took one look and exclaimed: “My God, it’s full of stars!”

SERENDIPITY

I once heard a story about a man whose mistake turned satellites into a thousand shooting stars… “Make a wish!” his daughter prompted him.

If I had a wish, it would be to legalise shooting stars – especially those third rate, C-lister, reality TV ‘stars’ with their enormous egos, undeserved fame and complete lack of talent.

Just line them up against a wall, and shoot the lot of them.

Twice – if necessary – just to make sure.

Coming to think of it, without all those crappy reality TV shows, we’re not going to be needing all those satellites either…

Make a wish!

TURA

Stars
———
It is called the Angler.

It begins when a young prince rides out in search of adventure. He comes to a tower, at the top of which stands a beautiful princess. She has stars in her hair and her face shines like the sun, and her voice is as the sweetest birdsong. She tells of being imprisoned by her wicked uncle, or her incestuous father, or a lecherous sorceror.

She lets down her long, impossibly long, impossibly thick hair to the ground, and the prince takes hold of it. The Angler reels in its tongue and swallows the prince whole.

NORVAL JOE

From the rapid pounding of the approaching boots, Mickey knew descending the stairs was useless. Before he could turn away and search for an alternate escape, a sharp pain split across the back of his monkey head, a flash of stars filled his vision, and then everything went black.
When he came to himself, his furry arms were strapped to his body with duct tape, his head throbbed, and his blurred vision hinted that he was in the back seat of a car. Which direction they headed, or if the car moved at all, he was too dizzy to tell.

PLANET Z

According to legend, the Olympian Gods would raise exceptional heroes into the heavens, and the stars formed pictures of them.
However, the truth is that constellations made up of stars in three-dimensional space are completely arbitrary, and from any other vantage point in the universe the sky you will see is completely different.
From Earth, you see The Big Dipper, The Little Dipper, and Orion’s Belt.
But from Rigel Seven, you see King Gadnaz, Bleen the Mighty, and Pogdar glittering at night.
Literally, mind you. The Rigelians have a tradition of gluing mirrors to heroes and launching them into space.