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:

• 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.

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.