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:

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

TOM

You cannot petition the Lord with prayer.

“Teacher now that we have eaten how may we best pray?” “Do you pray at all, but if you must say this:”

Our toothpaste who art in the medicine cabinet
Hollowed be Thy tube
Thy sonic run,
Thy flossing be done
On molars as it is on bicuspids
Give us this day our daily menthol
And forgive us our root cannels
As we forgive those who root cannel against us;
And lead us not into Gingivitis
Bur deliver us from drilling
For thine is the oral care, the power brush
And the bridge work for ever and ever
Amen

LIZZIE

“What do you keep in that jar, Bernie?”
“Lard.”
Connor got closer to the shelf.
“That doesn’t look like lard.”
“Oh, right. That’s an eye.”
“Human?”
“Of course, human.”
“Whose eye is it?!” asked Connor, shocked.
“It’s Parker’s.”
Connor took a step back.
“Why?”
“My wife was having an affair with him.”
“Shouldn’t you have plucked your wife’s eye instead…?”
The second Connor uttered these words, he regretted it bitterly.
“I did, both of them, and ate them too.”
Horrified, Connor watched Bernie flip a piece of meat on the grill and realized he hadn’t seen Bernie’s wife in weeks.

CHARLIE

Pete had a mission. He set out to grow a new johnson in a lab jar, as his was lost in a motorcycle accident. He failed three times, spending thousands of dollars, so he decided to go overseas and shop in Southeast Asia. He found some deals in Malaysia and Vietnam, but prices were beyond his budget. He finally settled for a deal in Jakarta. The broker was a un-licensed Urologist, and together they worked out the details and the price. There were three, poor students who owed a lot of money for college tuition that were willing to negotiate.

#2

Pete completed his transaction in Jakarta, carrying the refrigerated item home in a vacuum jar and nitrogen coolant. The baggage handlers checked the item through with no problems, as the package was labeled lab specimen, insured, and sealed in a wax bolus. He caught a cab back to the lab on his way home and left the jar in the cab. In a desperate rush he called the cab company to get his package. In describing the contents to the dispatcher, she hung up on him twice. The dispatcher called the police and got them, the FBI and FDA involved.

JEFFREY

Night Train
by Jeffrey Fischer

A jarring stop woke me from an uneasy sleep. I looked out the window. The train was between stations, with nothing but wheat fields illuminated by moonlight to see. Angry voices came ever closer, the tone suggesting the speakers were used to obedience. I had a reasonably good idea that the visitors who had stopped the train were state security, and they were looking for me. I sighed. The train was fast and comfortable, but it looked as though the rest of my journey to the border would be on foot.

Collecting
by Jeffrey Fischer

When we first came to Earth, we observed the culture carefully. Much of the culture was aimed at creating something the humans called “fun.” For example, we noticed that, on hot summer nights, children enjoyed chasing and catching luminescent flying insects and putting them in jars. Sometimes the jar would have holes punched in the top, sometimes not. This was considered fun.

When the humans arrived on our planet, we extended them the same courtesy. On hot nights – which, given the proximity of our planet to our sun, was all year – we let our children chase humans and put them in jars. Sometimes the jars had holes punched in the top, but most of the time we didn’t bother. Like those creatures on Earth called lightning bugs, there were always more humans to replace the ones who suffocated. The humans were right: this was fun.

RICHARD

#1 – Civilisation!

After tramping wearily through the forest for hours, Boggins heard faint sounds of laughter in the distance. Cautiously he struck out towards them, until – to his utter delight – he stumbled from the trees onto a roadway, at the side of which stood the incredibly welcoming sight of an inn.

Without hesitation, he pushed open the door and strode to the bar.

“Landlord! A jar of your finest foaming ale, and as much food as you can heap upon a plate!”

The landlord looked appraisingly at Boggins.

“Food’s off”, he muttered, “And no booze without proof of age, shortarse!”

SERENDIPITY

My husband was far too possessive – always demanding to know where I was, what I was up to, and with whom. If I was late home, there was hell to pay if I was unable to explain myself.

Friends were vetted, activities had to have his seal of approval, and spur of the moment nights out simply didn’t happen.

It couldn’t last, of course – you can be pushed too far… But, despite everything, I like to think he’s happy now.

That’s why I keep his head in a jar… That way, he can watch me all the time!

MUNSI

The Jar
By Christopher Munroe

I keep an old jar in my bedroom.

It’s the sort of thing you’d assume was antique if you found it in a rustic farmhouse, but which you realize seeing it in my downtown apartment is almost certainly a replica.

It’s actually antique. One-hundred-thirty years old, in fact…

I keep it by my bed so as to grab it, first thing when I wake up.

I whisper my hopes and dreams into that jar.

And then I seal it, tight, locking them away.

And that way they won’t trouble me during my day, while I’m off working my day job…

TURA

Jar
———
Bill gets weird ideas, but that’s what he’s for. “Have you ever wondered if you’re really a brain in a jar, living in a simulation?”

I replied, “If it’s perfect, by definition you can’t tell.”

“Miracles would be a clue,” he responded. “But the simulators patch them. Enlightenment experiences, maybe. Maybe we should study meditation.”

I took off my immersion rig and let the simulation handle the conversation, as I contemplated Bill’s brain in the jar.

We were pretty sure we *were* in a simulation, and we desperately needed ideas for breaking out. How better than to simulate a simulation?
———

NORVAL JOE

Mickey knew he’d been seen and that Ferret would be looking for him at every turn. He couldn’t switch back to human form. His clothes were back at the restaurant. If he changed now he would be wearing only his fuzzy monkey shorts. With the change in size, they might as well be fuzzy bikini shorts.
He needed to switch things up, maybe double back somehow.
The door to the stairwell stood ajar. He could descend a few floors and sneak out a window.
Opening the door he was greeted by the sound of many feet climbing the stairs quickly.

PLANET Z

Once upon a time, there was a man who wasn’t there anymore.

By the time you noticed him, he was gone.

Did you see his worn leather jacket?
Did you see his faded jeans?
Why was he wearing a Viking helmet?
What was he doing here?

You could ask him, but he’s already gone.
He’s never anywhere long.
Just long enough to notice that he’s not there anymore.

One day, you might see him.
You might even catch him.
Will you know what to say to a man who isn’t there anymore?

I don’t know. And you probably don’t either.

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

TOM

qualities of man

In the musical Les Misérables the play’s umber antagonist Inspector Javert prayed to the stars. The underlying text of this scene is: where does an enlightenment man place his faith. When you have rid the heavens of angles, saint, and god what power remains? We can strip from the rational man his god, but not his fundamental need to anthropomorphize to see in everything the qualities of man, that cannot be eradicated. At our core we are beings of metaphor. I guess if you have to swear by anything stars aren’t a bad choice. They are listening aren’t they?

MUNSI

A Prayer
By Christopher Munroe

Merciful Zod, before whom we kneel:

We thank you this day for your moderation, in sparing planet Houston from your wrath.

We thank you, too, your indulgence of we upon this world, though surely we are but insects to one so mighty as yourself.

And, most of all, we give thanks for our lives that you, in your wisdom, have allowed us to keep.

And, should we be able, we shall help you find the son of Jor-el, that you might enact the revenge you’ve so long awaited.

In the name of the Ursa, the Non, and Zod almighty, amen.

LIZZIE

The old woman huffed and puffed. The path was rocky and steep.
“Pray. It helps, they said.”
Yes, she did pray. However, that didn’t help. It made things worse. The animals died and the small green garden dried up.
“I’ll tell them.”
When she reached the castle, she was ushered into a large ballroom, a pale gloomy figure staring at her.
“I bring you a peace offer.”
The figure nodded.
“It’s a broth. I hope you enjoy it.”
A few days later, the green garden started sprouting but the castle was eerily quiet.
“Our garlic, who art in my broth…”

CHARLIE

The writer’s prayer goes like this: Open my mind, Lord, and grant me the talent to write with humor and the minimum use of four letter words. Let my words flow like a goat with the trots. Open my heart and my mind, Lord. Grant me the sensitivity to understand my rangebound audience and their reading comprehension. Open my soul, Lord, so I may channel my wisdom and creativity. Stroke my imagination as I stroke my Meerkat’s chin , but most of all, Lord, help me to regulate my word count without stopping short, and allowing me to conclude my ramble.

Translated from the French by Simon LaCrosse

#2

Now I lay me down to sleep. Thank you Lord for another bright and sunny day, the chance to learn, the chance to play. I hope tomorrow is as good as the day I found a wallet in the back seat of my cab and another one a few minutes later in the lady’s purse on the seat next to me at the diner. I know that this isn’t nice, but I pray that the neighbor’s lose more than one finger when they screw around with fireworks next year and continue to send my dogs into a pacing, panting frenzy.

#3

I prithee that you marry a solemn woman who blows foul wind like a noreaster and whose breath is befouled by tobacco and cheap wine. May your children be born naked and with a treble set of molars. May your business fail along with your pancreas, and your face wither and become besplotched with brown and yellow wens with tiny, coarse hairs growing from the corners of your lips and nostrils and the foulest place of my arse be fairer than thy face. I pray this is your fortune for having cursed me and invited I have intercourse with myself.

JEFFREY

Spare Me
by Jeffrey Fischer

Spare me from the stupid,
Who lack the sense God gave barnyard animals.
Spare me from the wise,
Who are only too happy to tell me how the world works.
Spare me from the indolent,
Who lecture me on my need to work on their behalf.
Spare me from the elitists,
Who continually tell me how they know better than others.
Spare me from liberals,
Who spend my money with abandon, heedless of consequences.
Spare me from regulators,
Who believe rules and restrictions carry only benefits, and lack costs.
Spare me from moralizers,
Who continually intone the superiority of their views.
And if you do not see yourself anywhere in this prayer,
Then spare me from you, too.
Amen.

Death Comes as the End
by Jeffrey Fischer

When I visited Niagara Falls, a Japanese tourist sat on the low wall above the river, contorting her body to pose for a photo. More recently, a German tourist died in Machu Picchu when he went into a forbidden area to take a picture. I wondered how many tourists died every year taking pictures in stupid poses. In 2015, a man was gored to death in Pamplona, during the running of the bulls, while trying to take a selfie. The Washington Post reported that 27 people died in 2015 while taking selfies.

Dear Lord, only you know the time and place of my death. I do not ask to know this. I do not ask for more time. I only ask that my death not make the Darwin Awards.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: Advice on Prayer

A man went to the temple to pray, standing in a public place he loudly proclaimed his piety and good works.

Another man, being poor and humble, prayed quietly in a corner – his prayer, a quiet and discrete petition.

“Now, which of these was most pleasing to god?”, asked the prophet.

“Why, the humble, quiet man – it’s patently obvious”.

“Foolish man!” Came the reply, “god is a great distance away in heaven! Should he strain his ears when he has gifted you with a fine shouting voice?”

“Blessed are the loud, for they shall drown out the meek”

#2 – Messy

Thankfully, no sign of dragons, but the forest was liberally scattered with sticky lumps of bloody and singed flesh. The creature hadn’t had a prayer against the dragon.

Pausing to throw up violently in a nearby bush, Boggins was full of recriminating thoughts. Was he the sort of person to send a fellow creature – allbeit a vile and objectionable creature – to such a horrible doom?

Then he recalled those slimy fingers creeping towards his pocket, and felt a lot better.

Putting the carnage from his mind, his thoughts turned to finding his missing companions, and more importantly, supper!

SERENDIPIDY

Now you lay yourself to sleep,
Pray the Lord your soul to keep,
It is night, and in the dark
Wicked creatures make their mark.
Once they get inside your head
You’ll wish you’d never gone to bed.
But in the shadows lurks far worse
A horror… Maybe even a curse
It’ll rend your flesh, steal your soul…
By dawn’s first light it will take its toll;
In fear and pain, your life it will drain
When morning comes, you lie still.
The sleep of death: Body chill.
And what could this monster be?
You know the answer…
It is me!

NORVAL JOE

Mickey, in monkey form, scampered across the roof of an apartment building, leapt, and swung along a utility wire. Reaching another building he stopped to check, making sure he could still see Ferret in one direction and Cherry Cola following in the other.
If it wasn’t for Ferret being Pole Cat’s sister, Mickey wouldn’t have a hope or a prayer of finding his new nemesis. With just a little luck Ferret would lead them right to the girl’s lair.
Cherry followed slowly using the other pedestrians for cover.
When he looked back to Ferret, she stared up, directly at him.

TURA

A Prayer
———
The grey-robed monk entered the chapel, pausing to contemplate the depiction in stained glass of Bayes’ Theorem. He spoke:

“If the sky is blue, I wish to believe that it is blue. If it is not, I wish to believe that it is not. What is true is not changed by wishing it otherwise.”

“If a tree falls unheard, I shall not ask whether it made a sound. I ask only, what experiences do I anticipate?”

“May my every motion be directed towards the truth, for nature cannot be fooled.”

Then he went out to receive the ambassadors from Frequentia.
———

PLANET Z

Father McGinty says blessings over his golf clubs before he goes out on the course.
Father Richards says blessings over his cue before he heads out to the pool hall.
Father Michael says blessings over his tennis racket before he walks out on to the court.
One day, God mixed up the damn prayers, and he sent angels down to implement his orders.
Father Richards kept sinking the white ball into the hole with every shot.
Father Michael’s serves kept whacking his opponents in the balls.
And Father McGinty miraculously smashed back every downrange tee shot with his five iron.

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
• Munsi
• Charlie
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Owen
• Jeff
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Zackmann
• Planet Z

TOM

Not quite Bonnie and Clyde

“Earthling Wine is swill,” grumbled the little green man. “Shut your air hole,” returned the big purple woman, “your Frackn idea to crash on this Gor forsaken rock.” “Because you didn’t filler up at the Alpha Centauri Zmart.” “Right, right it’s my fault you second rate amphibian.” “Look child of a tree sloth, I’m just laying out the facts.” “Ok Almond eyes, Fact one who pocketed the Eye of All Seeing Sight during the Emperor’s coronation?” “No, Zero fact who made off with the Generals ID plate?” “Initiative.” “Oh really?” “Fur ball” “Pond scum “Shut up pass me the Thunderbird.”

MUNSI

The End of the World
By Christopher Munroe

They say that, from a certain point of view, every end is a new beginning.

I assume this is intended for people who’ve been dumped, as it does NOT apply to the end of the world.

It came from beyond the clouds, a being beyond any earthling’s comprehension, and we knew instinctively there was no way to defend ourselves, no hope for humanity…

Well, we who weren’t driven mad did, anyway.

Myself, I tried to be philosophical about it.

We’ve all gotta go sometime.

Sometime soon.

I drank up the wine, eyes on the horizon, and waited for the end…

CHARLIE

I was certain that the cloud passing over was a sign and a threat to all the earthlings that dumped their garbage in the ocean and built atomic missiles. It was the beginning. That day, that hour–that the aliens finally put their hooves down and let us know that they were here, that they were taking over for our own good and theirs, and that we had fugged things up so much they decided we needed a lot of radical changes to save ourselves and save them, in turn. They were out to prove that we were irresponsible poopheads.

#2
I dumped two bottles of wine in my schlep bag and went to the apartment where the writing group met. I had planned to blow smoke up the behind of the editor of our local weekly. Hoping he was going to be there, I wore my best blazer and my favorite tie. I wanted to get a reporter job where I could write to my strengths. I had written two or three hundred short stories, published on line, but they offered no challenge to my real talent, and didn’t give me any satisfaction. I was on automatic when I wrote.

JEFFREY

Family Outing
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Isn’t this a great day for a picnic?” Dad exclaimed, his manufactured enthusiasm only delaying the inevitable responses.

“I was going to hang with Dylan,” said my sister Jan.

“Sit on damp grass, attract ants, and have lousy cell reception? No, thanks,” I said.

“It’s a lovely idea, dear, but the day is turning cloudy. We don’t want to risk rain dumping on us,” Mom said.

“Then it’s settled: we leave in an hour.” Dad spoke to me only, as Jan was already on the phone to Dylan, explaining that she had the worst father in the world. Mom was putting a bottle of wine in the cooler. She felt the outdoors was best experienced with a serious buzz. I sighed and checked the charge on my Game Boy.

Cheap Venal Scam
by Jeffrey Fischer

Prices at CVS are terrible, so I never go without a sheaf of coupons. Just as certain as bad prices, I can always count on being unable to use one or more coupons. I’ve had the self-checkout machine eat several, had some the system simply refused to take, and had others good on merchandise that the chain doesn’t carry. My favorite is the “25% off your purchase” coupon. The fine print explains that the coupon is not good on sale items. This turns out to include “buy one, get one half off” items, even if I’m buying only one. “But I’m paying full price!” I protested, to no avail. I dumped the merchandise on the counter and left, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: In The Beginning

In the beginning was the heaven and the earth, but both were incredibly boring, so – to liven things up a bit – god said “Let there be wine”… And there was wine.

Much partying and merriment ensued and the heavenly host grew rather the worse for wear, and more than a little drunk.

Seeing his creator distracted, man had a party of his own, sinning both originally and copiously. It didn’t matter: An angel drunkenly left a tap running, flooding the earth.

Fortunately, a few righteous individuals were spared – some boat builders who didn’t have time for partying.

#2 – Space: The Final Dumpster

Space is becoming messy. We’ve dumped so much trash out there, circling in geosynchronous orbit, most of the stars you see at night are just reflections of sunlight on stray bits of metal and dust.

Dead satellites, lost spanners, fragments of foil, bags full of astronaut poop: A massive cloud of debris that’s not going away, and nobody knows just how damaging if might be.

Not that it matters to me – by the time it’s anything to be concerned about I’ll be long gone.

Unless of course, I’m taken before my time… An unfortunate victim of falling space junk

#3 – Close encounter

“Greetings Earthling”

I’d always denied the existence of aliens, but faced with the thin, grey creature, with the dark oval eyes, I was finding that was difficult to do right now.

I giggled nervously; “You’re not going to ask me to phone home or take you to my leader are you?”

The alien looked at me steadily: “You are to stand trial before the Galactic Court of Justice as your planet’s representative. Humans are beginning to become a cosmic pain in the butt!”

“But why?”, I protested, “What crime are we accused of?”

“Fly tipping and littering the solar system!”

OWEN

Certain and Beginning

For me, the beginning was when I joined the school newspaper. I was enamored by my uncle, the foreign correspondent. An advisor yelling at us for being late on deadlines, doing lay out under light boards, hauling ass in my friend’s old MG to make it to the printer’s by midnight. I was certain it would be the rest of my life.

And I tried, taking pay cuts from $11/hour to $10.50, losing years to a hyper-local startup, reporting on big pharma.

Luckily I’m the one who got to begin again, but I’m certain it’ll never be the same.

-END

SERENDIPIDY

“Would you like another glass?”, I asked, offering the wine bottle.

He smiled and nodded – they always did – and then, shortly afterwards, the look of surprise as they found themselves slipping into unconsciousness and slumping onto the table.

I’d perfected my technique after some idiot tried to date rape me using the same method – he hadn’t succeeded, and now I was on a mission – it was simple revenge against the arrogance of the male of the species.

When he finally woke up, he’d find himself dumped in an alley, missing his wallet…

And missing his testicles!

LIZZIE

“Look, this wine costs a fortune,” said the sommelier, tilting the bottle.
At the beginning, the teen students seemed interested and nodded.
“If I dropped it… What a catastrophe!”
Then some started yawning.
“It must taste heavenly!”
Several strayed away.
However, the sommelier was quite proud of his presentation and he didn’t see it coming.
One unsuspected elbow and the bottle slipped from his hand, crashing on the floor.
All laughed uncontrollably.
The sommelier died inside… He dashed onto a shelf, smashing a fortune and his future.
The kids just gazed back at their phones and forgot all about it.

TURA

Cloud; beginning
———
Find a little fluffy cloud, and stare at it patiently. After a few minutes you may begin to not merely notice that it has changed shape, but to directly see it writhing in the sky. The transition from “seeing that” to “seeing” is unmistakeable.

Practice this whenever you see clouds.

When you can look at the sky and at once see a roiling cloudscape, you can try staring at the surface of a lake until you see the minute disturbances telling the movement of fish below.

Eventually, you will be able to see grass grow, paint dry, and friends age.

NORVAL JOE

“Wait here,” Mickey told Cherry Cola, taking furry brown monkey shorts from his backpack.
Just because you’re a monkey doesn’t mean certain parts just disappear. In the beginning, when he first changed, it came as an embarrassing surprise.
In a storage room, he dumped his clothes in an empty wine crate and left the room as a large howler monkey.
“Oo, oo,” he said to Cherry, motioning her to follow.
Outside, he leapt to a fire escape and swung to the roof. He wouldn’t be among the clouds, but he’d be above the gravity bound earthlings on the street below.

ZACKMANN

I had to go to the planet because almost everyone seems to be playing this new game called Poke a Mango. Since Mango is in the name of the game I am almost certain that the earthling Matthew Sandborn Smith is somehow mixed up in it. I met some friendly people who shared a mobile device and much wine. I liked the sweet taste but after involuntarily dumping my stomach I began to think this drink is only for humans. I think it was the reason my head was in a cloud and I didn’t catch any Poke a Mans.

PLANET Z

Long ago, Manfred Mann’s band sang about The Mighty Quinn, an Eskimo so spread peace and love and joy.
Ever since then, I’ve always thought that song must be hell for any Eskimo or person named Quinn.
“Are you an Eskimo?” people would ask Quinn.
“Are you named Quinn?” people would ask the Eskimo.
Although, now that I think of it, I don’t believe that I’ve met many Eskimos.
I can’t recall the last time I saw one.
I assume that they heard the song, got sick of people asking them if their name is Quinn, and went back home.

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

MUNSI

The Endless Ones
By Christopher Munroe

The Endless Ones slumber beneath the city

Unthinkably huge, eternally old and horrifying beyond all imagination, simply to view them is to go mad from revelations no mortal man was ever meant to know. Surely upon waking they could destroy us, one and all, obliterating our city and all who dwell within it without so much as a thought.

For such is their power, their horrible majesty, that we are but gnats upon their surface.

Fortunately for us, here on the surface, their sleep is, like they themselves are, endless.

So yeah, we’re good. We ought to all be fine…

JEFFREY

Hot Air
by Jeffrey Fischer

When I was a new employee, meetings were exciting. I got to meet people, discuss ideas, see how the decision-making process worked. Occasionally, there was the illusion that others took my ideas seriously. The shininess wore off quickly, and an endless stream of meetings became another chore along the relentless journey toward retirement.

However, as an older, wiser bureaucrat, I know something my younger self did not: my presence is not needed at almost all of those meetings, and skipping a dull, unproductive session has no negative consequences. Outlook’s “Decline” button is my friend.

Nap Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

As a young child, I resented being told to take a nap. I now know this was my parents’ way of getting a little peace in the afternoon, but I convinced myself I didn’t need the extra sleep.

Now, in my 50s, I relish the opportunity to take a nap. Briefly sleeping in the afternoon recharges me physically, makes me ready for the rest of the day. A nap refreshes me mentally as well, providing a temporary halt in the endless stream of stimuli. In short, naps are good.

The trouble is, my boss never thinks so when he comes into my office, only to wake me up.

RICHARD

Nirvana

I became a Buddhist primarily for the perks.

When I say perks, I’m referring to reincarnation – who can fault a belief system that gives you as many lifetimes as you need to perfect the art of not screwing up?

However, what they don’t tell you until it’s far too late, is that they managed to get all that stuff about coming back as another animal or person completely wrong.

When you’re reincarnated – you come back as yourself, starting the same old life all over again.

Same mistakes, same problems, same everything…

An endless cycle of constantly screwing up.

CHARLIE

She was like the universe. Endless. She went overboard with her glute exercises and she stewed all the fat off her back end. She tried desperately to put the bootie back on by eating big tubs of hummus slathered with sour cream, but nothing worked. She had an alcoholic’s ass, and it was a disaster. No outerwear would help, but she found that foam inserts in her panties would suffice. Some days she would forget to insert one or the other of the foam pads, and went out with one cheek. She had to turn the other cheek all day.

#2

Nancy related her funny stories about her visits to the gyno, which were numerous and fascinating. She told us that she always apologized for not grooming before she went for her exam. She was embarrassed that she had such an enormous amount of vegetation down there. Her friends always laughed and whispered to each other when they saw her in the gym’s locker room. She believed that her generous grove protected her parts from soft tissue injury and made her stand out in a crowd of the younger women who insisted on tinkering with their presentation and manicuring their muffs.

#3

Nancy’s friend was born without the buttock gene, thus endless, so at twenty she opted for buttock enhancement surgery in an out of the way clinica in Northern Mexico. She left the surgery on Monday afternoon, and awoke with an infected caboose on Tuesday morning. In addition to the infection, the implants were placed incorrectly and unevenly because the good doctor was a little cockeyed and had a bad astigmatism. After her complete, two year recovery, she had an uneven undercarriage, and looked ridiculous in her bikini. A surgeon on Rodeo Drive fixed her up and recycled the silicone implants.

JEFF

Time Lapse

A couple of concepts, infinity and eternity, are supposedly endless but nobody really knows for sure. At least with infinity, as it relates to mathematics, I can at least grasp the notion of taking the largest number I can think of and adding one to it. Eternity, on the other hand, is much harder for me to conceive. I can’t just think of the longest time I can imagine and add a day, and hour, a minute, or a second to it. Oh shit, I just wasted five minutes thinking about eternity, I’ll never get that time back, will I?

TOM

The Long Way Home

The endless road disappeared into the blue haze. The boy and the old man moved along the broken pavement steadily, but cautiously. “I’m thirst,” said the boy. “I know,” said the man. There was little else to say. A dot on a well-ware piece of paper was their goal. The map had cost them dearly, food, blankets, but more pressing water. What made this map worth the price, was its penciled additions. All along the blue lines were tiny gray crosses. Each marking the location of a shrine to Saint Oscar the patron saint of wanders. “Are we close?” “Soon.”

SERENDIPIDY

Contrary to what Orwell might have said, the worst thing in the world isn’t to be found in room 101; neither is it the threat of being devoured by starving rats.

The worst thing in the world is far more mundane than that, and most of us have experienced it at some time or other.

Simply put, the worst thing in the world is the simple, endless repetition of that one small thing that drives us crazy…

The toilet seat, left up; the neighbour’s car, badly parked; the constantly late colleague.

And, given time, it will drive you to murder.

LIZZIE

She sat and listened to the world around her. The wind whispered softly. The tree branches murmured familiar words from the past. She tried not to listen. She tried. The branches rustled louder, threatening to undermine her determination. And she looked beyond the line dividing the horizon in two, that line so rugged, so hilly, so full of pain. She closed her eyes and whispered with the wind. And she sat, she just sat, and listened to the world around her, an endless string of promises filled her with hope. A day, only a day, and everything would be different.

PLANET XRAY

Wings

I am the Bard and my pen is a mighty sword.
On joyous wings my imagination takes flight and soars among the distant hills and valleys that are captured within my mind.
With a sword in my hand, I do battle to preserve truth, justice, and my ideals against those who would do evil and harm to my friends and myself.
Across vast landscapes I travel the dusty roads, visiting the towns and villages along the way, spinning my yarns for the young and old, asking only for a smile, a hug and a thank you.
I am the Bard.

Endless

Like the endless sands of time the bard’s tales flow forth in the pursuit of providing entertainment and enjoyment to all of those who would be listening.
Carefully crafted, each tale brings the listener on a new journey with shining knights, fair damsels in distress and of course the villain.
With stories painted of gallantry, courage, evil and cowardice, across vast landscapes of the countryside, in the narrow streets of the towns, our hero travels as he continues his never ending pursuit for the rescue of the fair maiden from the clutches of the evil desperado.
I am the bard.

NORVAL JOE

Mandy shrugged and went back to work.
“We saw Polecat head up the road,” Cherry Cola said. “Shouldn’t we go after her?”
“No. By now she could be anywhere,” Mickey said. “Her potential hiding places are endless without inside information. I think we should probably give up for now.”
Ferrit agreed. “Yeah. Anyway. It’s a school night. I need to head home.”
“Sure Ferrit. Take care and thanks for your help.”
Cherry looked at him like he was crazy.
Mickey watched Ferrit leave, then said, “Give her a minute, Cherry. I think one sister will lead us to the other.”

TURA

Endless
———
“…to say a hundred words. I have made reality what the ancient philosophers only dreamed as myth, that time is cyclic,” declared the scientist at the press conference. “I have invented a time machine! When I sent my first prototype into the past, the temporal paradox forced the universe to eject the machine into an endless loop of time of its own. But if we are inside the machine when it jumps— and I have built another one enclosing this whole room— we will see a time loop from the inside. It will be about a minute long, long enough to say a hundred words. I have made reality…”

PLANET Z

Death is not endless sleep.
Because sleep is sleep, and death is death.
You can wake from sleep. You cannot wake from death.
You dream while you sleep. You do not dream while you are dead.
Molly’s Mom continued to lecture her daughter on the differences between sleep and death.
“Stop,” said Molly. “All I wanted was a bedtime story.”
The hologram of Molly’s Mom stopped lecturing, and smiled.
“Once upon a time,” it began.
The hologram generator needed an upgrade.
But Molly’s Father was still in shock.
After the accident, which killed Molly’s Mom.
“Sweet dreams,” said the hologram.

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

MUNSI

My Wings
By Christopher Munroe

I’ll fly as close to the sun as I fucking please.

My wings are made of sturdier stuff than those of Icarus, and I am a man of vision, scope and ambition. I shan’t be scared off by tales of lesser men and their failings.

For I am not those lesser men.

I’ll fly to the very sun, pluck it from its perch in the heavens and bring it with me back to Earth, that I might present it to you as a token of my love.

I defy God itself to stop me!

I’ll see you upon my return…

CHARLIE

Wings, generally, are deep fried, unbreaded, and coated in a vinegar based, pepper, hot sauce. The first step, of course, in the preparation of hot wings is the USDA-inspected poultry slaughter. The birds are hung upside down by their legs on an assembly line. The birds are drug through a shallow pool of water that is electrified. This stuns them. An automated machine cuts their throat and they bleed to death. The most humane method for killing a chicken is to put it into a small room or chamber, and then gradually replace the air with nitrogen, killing them quietly.

#2

I awoke early one morning, and I was a pigeon, not a cockroach, a pigeon. I tested the tail, and the right and left wings. I ate a breakfast of all fiber. I flew low over town, pulling a strip of paper with my message, in my beak. Swooping low, I skimmed a wing tip on the mayor’s hat as she stood arguing for rate increases, including the goddam water and sewer bills. Diving lower, I let the mayor know what I thought of her and I painted her hat and
her Chinchilla coat with a murky impasto of dookie.

JEFFREY

The Theory of Flight
By Jeffrey Fischer

I settled back in my window seat and waited for the plane to take off. A young boy occupied the middle seat. “Gosh, I can’t believe something this big can fly ” he chirped. “It’s a miracle, kid. But the plane relies on four huge birds to keep us aloft.”

The kid’s mother, in the aisle seat, frowned. “Don’t confuse him with that kind of silliness.” I went back to my magazine.

The plane taxied. As it gathered speed, four pterodactyls sat on the wings, claws gripping metal. They flapped their great wings in unison and the jet headed skyward. The kid watched in amazement. I just shrugged.

The Contest
By Jeffrey Fischer

Butchers always found chicken wings to be the most difficult to sell. Everyone wanted the juicy breast meat, or the tasty leg meat, or even the cheap thigh meat, but who wanted the little bits of meat on a wing?

Thus was born the Buffalo wing: a way of delivering a zesty sauce and, not coincidentally, selling wings. The Buffalo wing begat wing-eating contests, with crazed contestants seeing how many they could down before time ran out.

Frank figured Buffalo wings were passé, and started an ostrich wing eating contest. What he didn’t realize was that, though big, ostrich wings had no meat on, and it was hilarious to watch contestants gnaw at cartilage. Frank’s contests always ended in a zero-all tie.

RICHARD

Finger lickin’ nasty

I’ve never liked chicken wings. Don’t misunderstand me – they’re just fine whilst still attached to chickens; but when crumbed and deep fried, I struggle.

They’re just so small, insubstantial and more skin and bone than meat – seems to me a lot of fuss and grease, for little reward.

As for the rest of the chicken, go ahead: Bring it on! No finer food in my opinion.

Just don’t expect me to bother with those wings, in fact, you can take them off completely and give me what’s left.

It’s not as if the chicken is going to care!

SERENDIPITY

You don’t want to believe all that nonsense about God being loving and caring and all that crap… If you’d ever worked for him you’d know how cruel He is.

He doesn’t tolerate anyone standing up to Him – the penalties are severe. And trust me, He doesn’t take chances: He punishes you – you stay punished… No comebacks.

Like that time me and the gang tried to rebel. Cut off our wings He did, then threw us out of heaven.

Why do you think they call it The Fall? It’s not as if we stood any chance of flying!

LIZZIE

The tombstone in her parents’ garden had an overgrown buzzing cactus leaning over it. Victoria wondered why it had no names, no dates. She got married, moved away. After three miscarriages and a divorce, Victoria visited the tombstone. Suddenly, there were four names on it, the names of her babies and her own “Died June 10 1819”. As she pondered about it, the cactus, home to a nest of killer bees, fell on her. Barely a body anymore when found, Victoria, the heir of a huge fortune, was buried at the Pauper’s Cemetery. Still, no one cared about that tombstone.

TURA

Wings
———
The sky is filled with wings.

We patrol. I patrol. My sensors build a heat map of the terrain, intensity coding likelihood of enemy presence. A spot surpasses a threshold, and by the rules that I am, I mute my engines and glide down to map the buildings and identify people and military material.

I sense gunfire. In the few seconds remaining before the bullets destroy me, I upload myself and all my data to my greater self. My armed brothers will destroy the enemy’s nest.

I am legion. Whatever kills me makes me stronger. The humans’ time is over.
———

TOM

Who wants to be a millionaire?

Larry was two questions away from the million dollar prize. The category was Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences. “Who was the first actor or actress to win three Oscars?”
A. Brennan B. Hepburn C. Tracy D. Olivier

“I know Katharine Hepburn has the most, but I will go with A. Walther Brenan.” The tote board lite up $500,000. “Larry what will you do, take the 500,000 or go for it all?” “I’m going all the way.”

“Last question which film won the first Oscar?”
A. All Quiet on the Western Front
B. It Happened One Night
C. Wings
D. Mutiny on the Bounty

NORVAL JOE

Mickey stood up. “I need to find out what Polecat was doing at the library. Do any of you know what wings she went into?”
“I didn’t even know she was there,” Cherry Cola said.
“She told me to wait in the auditorium and stop you from following her,” Ferrit said.
“Maybe it’s more important to find out where she is now,” Mandy said.
“Yeah, but how are we supposed to find her?” Mickey asked.
Mandy shook her head. “Can’t any of you superheroes fly?”
Ferrit huffed. “Do you see wings on anyone here?”
Mandy shrugged. “Superman doesn’t have wings.”

PLANET Z

Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.
Which made things rather inconvenient for angels before the invention of bells.
To get from Heaven to Earth, angels had to leap and plummet.
Despite being immortal, the heat of re-entry and impact hurt like a motherfucker.
And the conservation of momentum led to a massive blast, not unlike the Tunguska Blast which felled miles of forests.
“Ouch… hey, Gabriel.”
“Sonofa- oh, hi, Michael.”
“Um, we’re kinda stuck here.”
“Huh? Oh, fuck.”
And then they set out to find a blacksmith to make bells so they could fly back home.

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

JEFFREY

Dem Bones
by Jeffrey Fischer

Cal spotted the mound of dirt first. “There it is!” He pointed for the benefit of Rose and Shel. They all turned 14 within a few weeks of one another and were inseparable that summer.

“Seems like a weird place to bury treasure,” Rose observed.

“What else could it be?” said Shel. “Let’s start digging.”

The three threw themselves into shovel work. They ignored signs of animal activity, but they couldn’t ignore the growing stench from the hole. When Cal uncovered a hand, all three dropped their shovels and ran. They had found buried treasure, just not the kind they expected.

Animal Spirits
by Jeffrey Fischer

John Maynard Keynes used the phrase “animal spirits” to describe the instinctual, rather than mathematical, behavior that underlies many decisions. Individually, these decisions may be wise or unwise but it is only collectively through which true disasters arise. From Tulip Mania in the 17th century to 19th century bank runs to asset price bubbles today, large numbers of uninformed people making emotional decisions rarely turns out well.

In light of this, one has to question the wisdom of universal suffrage. And that’s before seeing this year’s Presidential candidates!

CHARLIE

Sam Torrent was an animal. He had a penchant for focused skullduggery, or shall we say, skullbuggery. As the Master of Arms for the Throbbing Gristle Motorcycle Club, Torrent was the toughest, most psychotic and aberrant of the members. He once hacked off a rival’s head and copulated with the empty eye socket of the dead enemy of a rival biker club. At home, he was like no other sadistic person. He organized hunting clubs, managed dog fights, made meth, and coached peewee football teams. He was never prosecuted for his buggery, as all the witnesses disappeared before the trial.

#2

One of my favorite animals, beside the dog, giraffe, elephant, cat, is the rhino. Rhino’s have gumption and personality. Anyone who has ever hung out with a rhino or group of rhinos will quickly learn that they are very generous and thoughtful. They are happy to share their mud holes, and happy to give you a boost if you catch yourself stuck in hole. At 5 thousand pounds, they are pretty agile, unlike my Cousin Billy. Again, if you ever have the opportunity to communicate with one of these magnificent mammals, let them know straightaway you mean them no harm.

RICHARD

#1 – Tricked

The creature leaped gleefully out of the cave, leaving Boggins relieved and alone – and still in possession of his gold ring!

Before the hobbit could come entirely to his senses a terrifying sound echoed through the forest outside: The roar of an enraged dragon, followed by an animal howl of pain.

He listened in terror, and waited.

It seemed hours before the dragon’s snuffling and grunts finally disappeared into the distance; to be absolutely sure, Boggins counted to a hundred before creeping from the cave.

All was still, apart from his heart, as he stealthily crept through the undergrowth.

#2 – Animal Magnetism

I’m told that I have animal magnetism, and trust me… It’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.

I can’t walk down the street without every passing dog being attracted to my legs, cats have to be peeled off my lap, and rabbits physically restrained from jumping into my arms.

That’s not the worst of it – I once made the mistake of visiting the zoo…

There are few things more terrifying than seeing the vast bulk of an elephant being irresistibly dragged towards you against its will.

Although a projectile meerkat in the groin is pretty unpleasant too!

#3 – Animal

Animal was always my favourite Muppet – not exactly a popular choice, I know, but everyone liked Kermit and Miss Piggy… they were just a little bit too mainstream for me.

He reminded me of Keith Moon, and I often imagined him heading back to his dressing room, smashing the place up and throwing a TV out of the window; Kermit waving his stick like green arms around in consternation, desperately trying to calm him down.

What they don’t tell you is that the current Animal is just a puppet – the original died in 1989 from a drug overdose.

LIZZIE

“My friend, I’ve killed Mrs. Squirrel.”
Pam looked at the talking squirrel in shock but decided to play along.
“Where did you bury her?”
“I didn’t. I put her up on the wall.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you.”
Mrs. Squirrel’s head was indeed mounted above the mantelpiece.
“There was a problem,” said Mr. Squirrel.
“Only one?!”
“The biggest one was that I drank from this bottle. I was thirsty.”
The label read “Back to Nature”.
“I never thought it would actually turn me into an animal.”
Pam shook her head. “That damned snake oil salesman. We’ll get the antidote from him.”

SERENDIPITY

Animal

I know when you’re afraid – I can sense your fear and that reluctance you try so hard to hide.

It’s almost as if I have a sixth sense: One that is attuned to your fear and knows when you are feeling at your weakest.

And believe me, it’s never let me down yet.

So you can hide in the crowd, put on your act of bravado and seek shelter amongst those who are stronger, but I will always sniff you out and hunt you down.

Because, no matter what you do, I can smell your fear.

It’s animal instinct.

TOM

Animal Crackers

It happens from time to time that the story is a story about writing a story. My personal prime directive is: whatever pops into my head first that’s what I write about. This normally works well, but this week the first thing into my head was Animal Crackers. If that wasn’t sad enough it came with a singing and dancing Shirley Temple. Animal crackers in my soup Monkeys and rabbits loop the loop Gosh oh gee but I have fun Swallowing animals one by one. You get the drift, height of the depression, sometimes silly is the only cure for sorrow.

Footnote: the guy who wrote this song also wrote tea for two and swanee Irving Caesar

NORVAL JOE

“Well, even still. You don’t have to get along to work together if you have a common cause,” Mandy said. “I mean, this Polecat doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”
Cherry Cola laughed. “Yeah. Not a nice person. Polecat is an animal. She doesn’t care about anyone but herself.”
“What does that make you, Cherry?” Mickey asked. “Did you care what happened to me when you left me with Team Horse Feathers?”
“That’s not fair, Mickey.” Cherry reached her hand toward him. “You know I had no choice.”
Mickey shrugged. “I guess you’re right. Deep down, we’re all animals.”

MUNSI

Led Zeppelin
By Christopher Munroe

What’s the lead singer of Led Zeppelin?

Not who, obviously I know who he is, I’m familiar with the band. By this point I suspect everyone knows WHO Led Zeppelin are.

Rather: What?

I mean, he’s vegetable; obviously, the man is literally named Plant. And similarly, he’s mineral. He both defines and embodies the very nature of Rock.

But also: I would contend that, judging by his mane and the sounds he makes, he’s some kind of wild animal.

In this sense, he is animal, vegetable and mineral.

And, as such, the best choice for a game of twenty questions…

TURA

Animal
———
The great Professor Hegelbaum planned an encyclopaedic work describing all the animals of the world. He soon realised that the task was too gigantic, and limited his attention to sea animals. This being still too overwhelming, he decided to make his mark with an exhaustive inventory of the echinoderms. But they proved too varied and numerous, and he settled on classifying the crinoids, upon which he was the world’s expert. Fearing that even this would take more years than he might expect, he at last published the monograph that defines Hegelbaum’s legacy: “Some lesser crinoids of the south-east Indonesian littoral”.
———

PLANET Z

“It’s just an animal,” they say.
“You’re just an animal too,” I say back.
They just don’t understand.
They’ll never understand.
You don’t own a pet.
They own you.
Or those who mean well, but…
“Here, have a puppy,” they say.
“Here, have a kitten,” they say.
It doesn’t work like that.
What if you lost your son or daughter?
Or mother or father?
“Here, have a baby,” you say.
Imagine the shock.
Someone handing you a baby.
At the visitation. Or the funeral.
“You can give it their name.”
It’s just an animal, after all.
They just don’t understand.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

CHARLIE

I had feathers for one day, and then all was back to normal. There were bright blue, feathered wings, fluorescent red ones on my breast, with a shiny, black bib, while yellow and orange ones crowned my head. I was free, and I was a big-really big-bird. I took the liberty of flying over city hall and waiting for the mayor to step out of the building and start walking to his car. I was ten feet above and swooped in, laying three feet of cable on his head, shoulders, and Italian suit. I flew away, quickly, chirping and clucking.

#2

I nocked the arrow, checked the feathers, and took aim on my target, releasing breath as I did. My target kept moving, and I was losing confidence that I could hit the apricot without sending the Carbon Express, Maxima, RZ, Select shaft through my cousin’s forehead. I steadied myself, moved out of my default mental space and into a mindful frame of mind, simultaneously relaxing the fingers of my string hand. As I was taught, I did not know when the arrow was going to be sent. I only heard the sound of the arrow as it cut the air.

#3

The first time Walt Air took me up for some in-flight checks, we flew the Cessna Twin. We simulated a right engine failure and restart with feathered prop. We had plenty of altitude to do this exercise and there was little traffic on our Southern leg from Walt’s to the Seattle area. My instructor, Buster, was a calm young man, and very attentive to procedure and detail. I tossed my cookies on my “shutdown secure” check list. I used his when I ran through the procedures. When signed off that day, Buster gave me the papers and two sick bags.

JEFFREY

Blue
by Jeffrey Fischer

Listening to the right piece of music, even just a few phrases, can make the spirit feel feather-light. Music can evoke the past, tap into a variety of emotions, revitalize the soul, lift one out of the doldrums.

Then the darkness descends again. Instead of feeling free, one is anchored by lassitude. Everything seems pointless. One’s loathing for other people is surpassed only by one’s self-loathing.

Grimly, one finds the playlist, the one with those songs, and, hoping against hope, presses the start button. The sense of well-being may not last forever, but this moment is all that matters.

Early One Morning
by Jeffrey Fischer

You caress me with the tips of your fingers, so lightly it feels like the brush of a feather. I keep my eyes closed, wanting this waking moment to continue. Your fingertips move along my arm, then across my bare chest. I allow myself a smile. “Oh, honey, that feels good,” I moan.

“Did you say something to me?” your voice calls from a distance. I open my eyes. A huge spider pauses on its way across my torso, its eyes staring quizzically at me. I leap out of bed with an undignified “Oh shit oh shit oh shit,” flicking the creature off me.

LIZZIE

Feather Brain?

“Hey, feather brain, wake up!”
Peter straightened up and tilted his head to one side, then to the other.
“I’m awake.”
“What’s your task for today?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go to the Task Dispenser and press a number.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I accomplished it.”
“You were sleeping. How could you have accomplished anything?”
Peter searched his pocket and produced a crumpled slip of paper he handed to the robot. It stated “Take the day off”.
The robot stormed away in a fit of rage, screaming.
“Who hacked the Task Dispenser again? If I catch you, you’ll be sorry. I swear.”

RICHARD

Feathers!

I’m all for the advancement of science and the debunking of myths in favour of hard facts, but sometimes science can go just a little too far.

Warm-blooded dinosaurs I can handle: Even brightly coloured, spritely dinosaurs I can manage; but, when science asks me to believe that dinosaurs were covered in feathers, then as far as I’m concerned, science can take a running jump.

I refuse to accept the notion that T-Rex was just some overgrown version of Tweetie Pie – it’s just wrong on every level.

And it’s ruined the idea of Jurassic Park for me, forever!

MUNSI

Her Bangs
By Christopher Munroe

Her bangs feathered out to either side of her face like the wings of some majestic bird…

Some mythical creature, both immeasurably powerful and graceful beyond imagination, beautiful enough to reduce a grown man to gasping, awestruck tears and yet terrifying in its ability to put your world into sharp perspective.

Against those bangs, other hairstyle couldn’t compete.

Against those bangs, nothing else in life could be said to have meaning…

I liked her hair, basically.

It suited her.

I don’t know if she’d had it cut or was just styling it differently, but whatever she was doing, it worked…

SERENDIPIDY

They say that peacock feathers are unlucky, but I suppose people will believe any old superstition if they want to.

Personally, I don’t believe a word of it… Have you ever known any misfortune come to someone as a consequence of such things?

Oh look… You’ve spilled the salt!

Be a dear and grab a peacock feather to brush it up – there’s one in the cupboard under the broken mirror, near that open umbrella, just beneath the ladder. Careful you don’t trip over the cat.

And if that doesn’t bring you bad luck…

I’ll punch you in the nose!

TOM

Cheap Chopped Chicken Feathers
Season 4 | Episode 21

When I was small we had these blue stripped pillows. They were stuffed with chicken feathers. Often the point of one of the feathers would poke out of the cloth case and scratch you on the face. Only way to get rid of the feather was to pull it out. Little by little the pillow deflated over the years, till they weren’t much of a pillow at all. Mom switched over to crumped foam. Those totally sucks, so I laid major coin for gooses down. Now I got Tempur-Pedic, very comfy. Don’t real miss the feathers, time marches on.

NORVAL JOE

“So it sounds to me like all of you are on the same side,” Mandy said. “With Polecat being your mutual enemy, you could start your own super hero team.”
“I don’t think so,” Monkey Boy said. ” Ferret was supposed to eliminate Cherry Cola–we can’t trust her. Last time I worked with Cherry Cola, she deserted me and left me a captive to team Horse Feathers.”
“Team who?” Ferret asked.
“They’re a loosely knit group of semi-comedic anti-heroes which I’d infiltrated, until Cherry turned her back on me,” Mickey said. “No. I don’t think we’ll make a good team.”

TURA

Feathers
———
Nothing can beat playing golf with golfballs you made yourself. To begin, get a stone of goose feathers from your local goose farmer– this will make several hundred golfballs. Take a top-hatful (the traditional measure), pound them with a beechwood mallet, and when they begin to compact, add a trace of bezoar gum to bind the mass. Finish the core with a coat of naturally drawn indiarubber solution in turpentine.

Part two of this series will show how to hand-stitch the leather cover.

Hipster Hobbyist: the magazine of ways to spend your leisure in backbreaking labour of no economic value.

PLANET Z

The philosopher asks: Which falls faster, a pound of feathers or a pound of lead?
Because of air resistance, the pound of lead would fall faster, right? The feathers catch the air and flutter slowly to the ground.
But not necessarily.
If you use a hydraulic press to mash the feathers into a ball, it fill fall rather quickly.
And if you hammer the lead into soft thin strips, they will flutter to the ground like feathers.
In the end, it’s not what something is made of, but how you shape it.
Well, that, and how you interpret the question.

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

MUNSI

Meanwhile, at the Commissioner’s Office
By Christopher Munroe

“Let me make myself clear…” he told me, and then vanished.

Which, to be completely honest, I found more than a little bit smug.

I mean, okay, we get it, you have powers beyond those of mortal man, powers that include among others mastery over your body at the molecular level, to the point that you can turn your physical form completely transparent, allowing light to pass through you and rendering yourself invisible to the human eye. We’re all very impressed.

No need to be a dick about it, though, right?

I swear, sometimes superheroes are more trouble then they’re worth…

JEFFREY

All Clear
by Jeffrey Fischer

The “all clear” notice came but no one left the shelter. We recognized the engine signature of the bomber we called Adolf. He thought he was clever: when his fellow Heinkel pilots dropped their payloads, Adolph did not. As the squadron flew back to the Channel, he would return to drop his bombs, hoping to catch people on the streets. That surprise worked exactly once, after which everyone listened for Adolph to go for good before returning to the surface.

Adolph was too clever for his own good: his fighter escort departed with the rest of his squadron. The fourth time he pulled his trick, the RAF made short work of him.

I Can See for Miles
by Jeffrey Fischer

They say that on a clear day you can see forever. Thursday was exceptionally clear. The weatherman said visibility was “unlimited,” so I put the adage to the test.

The mountain range, 20 miles away and normally enveloped in haze, was crystal clear. I looked farther. I could see individual craters on the Moon. I could see Pluto, with its delusions of being a planet, and the galactic center, and clusters of galaxies beyond our own. I saw to the Big Bang, the moment of creation, but still I looked farther. I stared into the face of God – and he stared back, mouthing, “I see you, Jeffrey.” Oh, shit. I closed the blinds and hid until the day turned cloudy.

LIZZIE

A small window allowed him a narrow view of the world. He liked that. A seagull flew by every now and then. And he just did his job.
That night, he didn’t do his job; that’s what the money was for. In sheer darkness, he turned a blind eye. He sat down, his back towards the money piled up on the table.
The next morning, when he read the news, he climbed to the top of the lighthouse and jumped. In his mind, he became a seagull flying in a clear blue sky, carrying that kid who had been kidnapped.

CHARLIE

I wove myself into the upper echelon of the group. My next plateau in Scientology was to go CLEAR. I had devoted seven years to my quest, and twenty thousand dollars in Bitcoin. Clear is the state achieved through auditing and giving up my secrets, my sexual orientation, bank balances, friend’s names and contact information as well as describing the persona that no longer has his own reactive mind. Without a reactive mind, individuals regain their basic personality, self-determinism and, in essence, become much, much more the slave of L. Ron Hubbard, the sci-fi author and captain of the ship.

#2

Until my date, my face was a mass of eruptions, blotches, pustules, and pimples. I thought my life was over, and I would be a map of zits for life, until I heard that going all the way would clear things up. I saved for a cab ride, a fancy dinner and a show with a date. Myrna would put out for all this, so I was sure to have a normal complexion in a couple of days. We did the nasty, my face cleared up in two days, but I got a dose of la clapoir before the weekend.

RICHARD

A cunning plan

Only two things remained clear in Boggin’s thoughts… Firstly, if he just lay here, things could only go from bad to worse. Secondly, he had no idea what he could do in the alternative.

The creeping hands had reached the lip of his pocket. The vague beginnings of a plan crept unwillingly into his mind.

“Stop!”, he rasped, with all the strength he could muster; “There’s nothing for you there, but I can tell you where to find untold riches!”

Quickly, the hobbit described to his captor the whereabouts of the treasure he’d abandoned.

“Interesting”, hissed the creature, “we’ll see…”

TOM

Mad World
Clear was born with electric eyes. Endowed by his creator with a grace of action that brought peace to all who came in contact with his presence. He traversed the globe defusing madness and chaos. “To unlock the harden heart one must be willing to give up their own,” he said. When he was taken the world prayed. When they took his life the world mourned. To every generation a light is given to clear the path. In every generation the darkness grows to obscure that path. Clearly we need to heed the whisper and raise it to a call.

SEREDNIPITY

The test results came back clear.

Of course, none of the surgical team knew that: Those results were currently sitting in the discarded shredded paper bin in my office. As far as they were concerned, I had every reason in the world to be poking around in the patient’s brain.

But I didn’t – it was just something I liked to do for fun… To relieve the monotony of the job.

My assistant held up a picture of a carrot.

“Saxorillabus”, came the patient’s response. I giggled quietly.

Then his heart stopped.

They grabbed the paddles…

“Clear!”

But, too late.

ZACKMANN

So many people are reviewing movies but so many movie titles are used that don’t fit the movie. So for clarity we will change them, like Avatar or more accurately Fern Gulley Dances with Smurfs, We Can We Can Remember It for You Wholesale: Based on the Philip K Dick story that had been wiped from the minds of the creators of Total Recall. John Carter of Mar: a Princess of Mars. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory seems right since it was not a Willy Wonka remake. Tell me which I missed or why I am wrong in the comments.

NORVAL JOE

“Everybody hold on a minute,” Mandy shouted. “Mickey. Clear this up for me. Who are all these people and why do you all have funny names. I mean…Monkey Boy? Seriously?”
Mickey scratched his head. “Honestly. I’m kind of a super hero. That’s why I was late for work today. Polecat and her henchmen were chasing me.”
Mandy turned on Ferret. “Aren’t ferrets and polecats the same thing?”
“Pretty much. Ferrets are like tame polecats. It makes sense, though. We are sisters.”
“You’re sisters?” Cherry Cola asked.
Ferret nodded. “We’re twins. Not identical, of course, and I’m nicer than she is.”

TURA

Clear
———
Having dismissed my servant for his persistent surliness, I tested his replacement by sending him on an errand to the market. I concluded my instructions by saying, “Is that clear?”

“Truly, master,” he replied, “it is as if a window that was begrimed has been made clean! It is as if an old and broken lamp has been repaired and filled again with oil, and its wick trimmed and lighted! It is as if thick clouds have dispersed and revealed the sun! Even so do your most excellent words turn darkness into light.”

I wished for the old servant back.
———
There once was a cobbler who made shoes so fine
That he always had meat on the table, and wine
He was best and he knew it, no need to be humble
But his neighbours would gather to gossip and grumble
“He lives like a lord while for us life’s a bitch”
“We’d rather go unshod than see him grow rich!”
The more trade they brought him the more they complained
And on church days both he and his wife were disdained.
The moral of this is abundantly clear
Big fish in small ponds should eat bread and drink beer.
———

PLANET Z

The guru told Benny to clear his mind, and Benny did as he was told.
When the guru asked Benny for the password to his bank account, he couldn’t remember it.
“Okay, okay… you can remember everything now,” said the guru.
But Benny’s mind was already clear. There was nothing at all in his head.
The guru tried to use Benny’s credit cards to make few purchases, but they all had delivery address safety features.
And Benny’s phone wasn’t one of those thumbprint ID phones.
The guru took Benny’s cash, tore off his false beard, and hailed an Uber ride.

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

MUNSI

The Show
By Christopher Munroe

A single ferret, in the big city, trying to have it all.

Living, working, occasionally disemboweling other small rodents, life was hard, but she knew that as long as she remained virtuous she WOULD, in the end, learn how to balance work and her tempestuous love life.

As produced by David E. Kelly.

Long story short, the show was NOT good, and only made eight episodes before being cancelled. Frankly, it’s failure’s no surprise. What surprises is that it was greenlit in the first place. Who on this planet thought it MIGHT work?

Somebody at NBC is filled with regret….

MUNSI

Searching Searching Searching

Single, Ferret, seeking Planet Base Diet partner, Failed third grade, Hard Liqueur acceptable, Regret not, Disembowel my third grade nun, Virtue is its own punishment. “This has to be a message to some sleeper cell.” “Nope” “Look at it, who would write such dribble?” “Robot” “What?” “Robot Emailers, escaped from Langley,” said the NSA analysis. “Nice work kid, hand me that bug spray.” Leo sprayed the kid’s screen, the email melted off the monitor. “How’d you do that,” “Fifth level secret, if I told you, I’d have to kill ya, remember Rudy.” The kid got real quiet. Read the next email.

JEFFREY

Two Minute Hate
by Jeffrey Fischer

The couple sat across the dinner table from one another. Neither had taken a bite of the meal. “I hate you,” she said.

“I hate you, too.”

“Well, I loathe you.”

“I despise every single thing about you.”

“You are a vile chauvinist.”

“You’re a bubble-headed wannabe feminist.”

“I can’t stand your lax hygiene.”

“I resent your relatives.” He checked his watch. “Okay, done. Say, tomorrow is our 25th anniversary. Should we take the day off?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll regret it. The therapist says communication really improves a marriage.”

“I think she’s right. Things between us have never been better.”

Failing Up
by Jeffrey Fischer

He ran his bank into the ground. When he was made CEO of his second bank, the lesson he took from the first experience was that he needed the bank to be too big to fail. After multiple, poorly-conceived acquisitions, the bank didn’t fail – but was purchased for pennies on the dollar. He was fired again.

The President called and said his experience was needed as Treasury Secretary. Failure was now a virtue.

When the Chinese foreclosed on the United States, they didn’t fire him. They gave him a knife with which he could disembowel himself. The knife had a very dull blade.

CHARLIE

When I was a young man, I owned an albino Ferret. I adopted the polecat from a respected Ferret shelter in Northwest Portland. I failed to inquire about and check the sex of the little critter, as it was moving around and squirming so much, it was hard. I regret not finding out it was a vicious male, so when I took it home, it tried to maim and eat the hands of our newborn. The virtue of having a warm, furry pet was soon lost, so we had to return little Chickaboomboom to the ferret shelter for a refund.

#2

He failed hard. Very hard. Attempting to come off as being a super duper wordsmith, intellectual, and supremely clever chap, his words came off as pale, callow, twerpfluffery. His words were copied directly from his Black Studies lecture notes as he commented on a Tweet post I made recently. I saw him use the same five or six words as a sharp retort to another post he disagreed with. Fail, fail. I typed his comment into Google and found the complete sentence he opened his Tweet comment with – in lecture notes from an undergrad course in Black Studies at MIT.

RICHARD

Position Vacant

Strangest criteria for a job I’ve ever seen: ‘Position vacant – Are you highly- motivated and adventurous? Call now for a career that’s out of this world. Only single, unattached candidates need apply.’

At the interview, all became clear.

“We’re looking for settlers on Planet Z”… We’ve got scientists, medics and technicians, what we don’t have are colonists – everyday people to get stuck in and populate the planet”

“Ah”, I said, “Now I understand why you’re only looking for singles”.

“That’s not the reason”, came the reply: “It’s because this is a one way trip… You’re never coming back!”

SERENDIPITY

You knew I’d pick ‘disembowel’, didn’t you?

It is, after all, one of my favourite words, describing one of my favourite activities.

Not everybody’s cup of tea, I know, but it takes all sorts to make a world, and even those of us on the fringes of polite society have our place.

Just because I like sharp knives, blood and gore doesn’t mean I’m a bad person, although I have to admit I’m hard pressed to suggest something positive to say about my habits.

At least I’m honest about it.

And there you have it… Honesty!

It’s my one virtue!

TURA

Ferret; disembowel
———
Abba Jerome’s only companion in the desert was a ferret that would come and lie in the shade of his cave.

One night, he walked meditating among the hills. Hearing a sudden noise underfoot, he saw how the ferret had caught a desert rat, ripping its belly open. In compassion, Abba Jerome laid his hand on the rat, which was miraculously healed, and scampered away.

But God spoke out of the night, saying, “Knowest thou the ways of God? The rat’s death was the ferret’s life.”

Abba Jerome admitted his sin, but thereafter, the ferret would never enter his cave.

LIZZIE

Disemboweled Regret

The tomb was empty. Everyone panicked.
The searches lasted weeks.
Some believed the body was stolen. Others, that the lost soul would haunt a neighboring town, considering no haunting-related problems occurred.
The searches stopped.
A fortnight later, a ghostly voice roared “Do you regret it now?”
Everyone recognized it. It was homeless John who littered the streets for weeks. They asked him to leave. He refused. The town decided to solve the problem swiftly.
He was back now. Every morning, someone showed up dead, disemboweled and displayed in front of the town hall, just like it had happened to him.

NORVAL JOE

“Oh. Ketchup,” the girl said, blushed, and sat.
The door slammed open. Cherry Cola stumbled forward, collapsed hard into a seat, and stared at the other girl. “Ferret. You’re the last person on the planet I expected to see.”
“I don’t claim my honesty to be a virtue and I may regret my words. I was the one who hit you in the library.”
“Give me a single reason why we shouldn’t call the police,” Mickey said.
Ferret looked down. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Polecat said she would disembowel me if I failed to stop you, Monkey Boy.”

DANNY

I am SINGLE, with no REGRET. May of 1995. I was a young law school graduate who just passed the Florida Bar. I had a hot girlfriend, and life on this PLANET was full of hope, until I realized my 1st Florida girlfriend was totally psychotic. We broke up, violently. Fast forward to 2011, Christmas at home with my parents and my new dog Freddie on Christmas Eve, when suddenly on the 11’O-clock news, my ex-girlfriend shot her soon to be ex-husband twice in the back of the head with a 44 Magnum. Needless to say, that closed casket funeral was not mine.

ZACKMANN

A Space Sea Story

Although her marriage made peace with the bug planet Munroe, Princess Fawcett of planet Mustelidae, who looked like a sexy human ferret hybrid on an old SciFi cover, despite trying several times a day failed to have an heir. She regretted that the virtue of emotional compatibility with the king of Munroe didn’t translate into physical compatibility for reproduction. She asked for my help since her doctor was pretty sure humans were compatible. I protested neither of us was single. The princess assured me a night with her is more fun than being disemboweled. Hope my wife never finds out.

PLANET Z

Ever cried over a video game?
No, not when you accidentally erase the disk, or when you lose the registration key.
I’m talking about crying over the video game’s content.
Planetfall was a text adventure with a darling childlike robot sidekick named Floyd.
To help solve one of the final puzzles of the game, Floyd sacrificed himself.
And that made me cry.
I wanted to visit Floyd again, so I dug up my old Planetfall disks and tried to load it, but they’re too old.
Did I cry again at Floyd’s second death.
Nah. I found Planetfall online.
Hi, Floyd!

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

JEFFREY

This Land is My Land
by Jeffrey Fischer

After months at sea, we all felt relief to see land again. The ship anchored in a harbor. I led a small party to shore. As captain, it was my honor to be the first to step foot on the virgin land. I did so, planting our flag and speaking the words I had rehearsed: “I claim this territory, from this shore to the next, in the name of our sovereign.”

Of course, I wasn’t speaking English, but you get the idea. My memory of it is quite distinct. I have been reincarnated many times, and one of my earlier lives was the first person to ever come to the Americas. That means I have dibs. It’s all mine, Chief, every square inch.

The Event
by Jeffrey Fischer

The memory is indelible: I was warm, snug, and content in my cocoon. I certainly didn’t want to leave. Then came the cold and a blinding light. I fought to stay where I was, but someone yanked me from my hideaway. I’m sure I cried.

“Get up, you big baby,” my father said, glaring at me and throwing the covers to the floor. “We agreed to this weeks ago. I’m not asking for much: just start looking for a summer job so you can earn some money for college so you don’t bankrupt me. It’s not like I’m ripping you from the womb.”

CHARLIE

My earliest memory was the death of my twin. It was misclassified as a crib death. Timmy’s head was stuck between oak bars of the Ikea crib for two days, while the baby sitter smoked crack and my parents vacationed in El Cabo. My uncle, a decisive thief, suffered a form of crib death as well. He broke into a furniture store one night to crack the safe and to steal a crib for his newborn. He attracted the attention of a dozing night watchman, and during a brief gun battle, succumbed to a chest wound at the guard’s hand.

#2

An early memory. A very early memory, is that of my time swimming in a large pool of warm, amniotic fluid, tethered to a round, pulpy sea creature by my belly button. Really scary looking stuff I imagined, since I could only feel it, and I couldn’t see it. I imagined everything to be squishy, veiny, purple, and icky looking. I did spend a lot of time squirming around, tumbling in the warm medium, and was only disturbed a few times during my stay by another grunting creature trying to worm it’s way into my secure cave in the evening.

#3

A memory that will live for me in infamy was the day I succumbed to the new, shiny, 320i Beemer my new lady friend drove. I wanted to drive that car, to wax it, to wind it up tight in third gear on the highway, to drift around some slow curves on the pass, to wind the tach to red line in expressway traffic. This car pulled me into a relationship that I wish I could expunge with a quick dose of something, or a memory wipe of some kind. I eventually had my way with the car, of course.

RICHARD

#1 – Hungry

My earliest memory? That’s easy – it was seeing you for the first time just now.

Nothing like a stranger turning up with snacks when you’ve not eaten for as long as you can remember.

Not that my memory is good: We goldfish aren’t renowned for our long term recollection!

And what’s that you have? Food! Marvelous! I haven’t eaten, for… Well, as long as I recall.

Do I know you? I forget… One of the downsides of being a goldfish: Seven seconds and then… Poof! Gone.

Oh, is that food you have? Excellent… I haven’t eaten for… Well, ages.

#2 – Memories

My earliest memory was implanted on June fifteenth 1997 – my fortieth birthday, which might seem a little late in life to be establishing a past, but up to then I didn’t really know where my life was heading.

So many people form their memories far too early, I think… By the time they’ve got themselves a career, settled down and made their plans for a satisfying future, they’ve accumulated years of baggage, disappointment and bad decisions, clogging up their minds and exerting a stranglehold on their future.

Not for me though, life is great… As far as I remember!

TURA

My first memory
———
The doctors tell me that my first memory is from when I was two. Not to me. I can see that memory sitting in my head, but it doesn’t feel like mine.

To me, my first real memory is waking up in cryonics recovery. Everything from before I died feels like a story I know but never experienced. The doctors talk about “dissociative memory disorder”, blaming the patient so they can call cryonic revival a success.

So it is, for me. My predecessor died, and his past is a museum exhibit in my head. The sense of freedom is dizzying.

LIZZIE

“I died and went to Heaven. Heaven is very cold. My wife ordered me to bring a pullover. She knitted it for me. The last thing I recall is those men forcing me to wear it. Heaven is also quite intriguing. I thought I’d meet God, angels, and good-hearted people but my earliest memory of being in Heaven is when I almost turned into food. Now, I’m a pet. Good thing growling Mathilda (as I call her) is warm and cuddly. Still today, I wonder why my wife sent me to Heaven, although I seriously doubt it’s really called Heaven.”

SERENDIPITY

Story: Your Earliest Memory

I am your earliest memory.

I was there when you burst from the warmth and safety of your mother’s womb, screaming and helpless into a dangerous world.

And I have stalked you ever since.

I have watched from the deep shadows in your bedroom in the night; I have followed you along unfamiliar dark alleyways; I’ve peered over your shoulder while you await bad news, and listened in to the unexpected phone call in the early hours of the morning…

I was with you at the beginning and I will accompany you to the very end…

For I am… Fear!

MUNSI

Memories
By Christopher Munroe

It’s said that your earliest memory’s the one that matters most. It’s the one that shapes you, going forward, turns you into the person you eventually become. It’s the memory you can’t escape, because it’s the one that, more than any other, IS you.

That’s why they’re called “Formative Years.”

For me, it’s my aunt, in the early eighties, dressed as though she were Boy George, singing Blondie to me in the crib.

One way, or another…

I’m going to find you…

I’m going to get’cha, get’cha, get’cha, get’cha….

And that is, essentially, everything you need to know about me.

TOM

The Greatest
My earliest memory of the man was the 1960 Olympics. I have never been much of a prizefighting fan but Clay was amazingly fast. Fists just blurred across the screen. When he said he had no quarrel with them Vietcong, he was so spot on. My sentiments exactly. When they took away his titles it reminded me of what happen to Jim Thorpe. White people love to fuck with people of color. Then he made this world class come back. I wish I could write as well as Norman Mailer. He totally captured the Ali thing in The Fight.

NORVAL JOE

We were downstairs, in the family room.
My twin brother, Roger, and I were sitting on the piano bench. We were inseparable for the first twelve years of our lives. Our oldest sister, Susan, was sitting on the brown couch with a red heat lamp shinning on her shoulders.
Susan was my sister. She watched out for me. Roger had Donna to keep an eye on him.
The next day, Susan went to the hospital and died from leukemia.
We all lost our sister. But, I lost my sister.
Susan was nine years old. Roger and I were almost two.

DANNY

I was barely born, considering it was a normal birth, if C-sections among 40 year olds are a normal birth in 1968, with the usual circumcision shortly thereafter. No, I’m not Jewish, but my mother was convinced it was a hygiene thing, because my dad was un-circumcised, and mom was obviously totally disgusted by it. So I’m circumcised. No wonder it took literally 20 years of marriage before their only son was born, or it took literally 20 years of marriage to figure out to have a child. Anyway, mom is holding me, and Belle is slobbering all over me. There, my earliest memory.

PLANET Z

The building is shaking.
My phone reads zero zero zero one.
It’s a minute after twelve.
I use military time on all my clocks for some reason.
I guess AM and PM look alike when you’re too drunk to see straight.
And with all the lights, night can be like day, and day can be like night.
I wipe the sweat from my eyes, put down my phone, and try to go back to sleep.
The building is still shaking.
Wait, I’m not in a building.
I’m on a plane. The plane is shaking.
I cover my eyes.
And sleep.