Weekly Challenge #534 – Endless

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

Tinny is art

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.

Weekly Challenge #533 – Wings

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:

Huggy Tinny

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.

Weekly Challenge #532 – Animal

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

Tinny derp

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.

Weekly Challenge #531 – Feathers

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:

Laundry yawn cat

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.

Weekly Challenge #530- Clear

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:

Derp

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.

Weekly Challenge #529 – Pick Two

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:

RL vs SL Myst

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!

Weekly Challenge #528 – Your Earliest Memory

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:

Box Tinny

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.

Weekly Challenge #527 – What’s for dinner?

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

Myst is 7 years old

MUNSI

Happy Anniversary
By Christopher Munroe

An anniversary requires an appropriate gift.

For the eighth, according to tradition, that gift is Steel.

Google is useful.

So I figured, tonight, we’d slip into something a little more comfortable, all of us, every listener, every author and you, Laurence, then we’d cuddle up on the couch, together, again, all of us, pour ourselves some wine, and pop in a DVD.

Specifically, the DVD of the movie Steel, starring Shaquille O’Neal as the titular character. The film is a train-wreck, but tradition is tradition, after all…

Shush, don’t speak, no words are needed.

You’re welcome.

So: What’s for dinner?

JEFFREY

To Serve Man
by Jeffrey Fischer

Jack found himself stranded on an island with plenty of vegetation but no meat, save for a talking rabbit who had befriended Jack. Still, as much as he valued their friendship, as days passed, the rabbit looked increasingly tasty. One day, he asked the rabbit to join him for dinner. He prepared a variety of vegetables and added them to a stew pot. As the concoction started to come to a boil, he made a grab for the rabbit. “Some friend you are!” squeaked the rabbit as it ran away.

Before Jack could devise a plan to get the rabbit to return, an enormous bird swooped from the sky, plucked Jack from where he stood, and deposited him into the stew pot. The rabbit waved at the bird and collected his payment of a dozen carrots.

Supper Duty
by Jeffrey Fischer

When Sarah returned from her first semester living off campus, her mother said, “If you’re going to live here, you need to take a turn at dinner. Make us something you’d cook for your friends.”

Sarah dutifully bought supplies at the local supermarket and set to work. When the meal was ready, she called her parents to the dinner table. Each place had before it a bowl containing orange pasta, tomato sauce, and a variety of spices. Next to each bowl was a pill.

Her father looked at the setting and asked what he was supposed to be eating. “It’s my own recipe: mac and cheese, spaghetti sauce, and any three spices in the cabinet.”

“What’s the pill?”

“After the first few times I served this, I learned that it went best with an antacid.”

CHARLIE

My wife always asked the same question when she came home after work. “What’s for dinner?” We took turns: cooking, shopping, cleaning the toilets, washing dishes, making the beds, doing the laundry, scheduling the yard work, on top or on the bottom, and so on. The marriage was a partnership…no…more like a small business operation. The last time I cooked for her, I made it a very “special” dinner. My unique ingredients, including the garnish for her plate, cannot be disclosed here, as it would be cause for investigation. As you know there is no statute of limitations for murder.

#2

Mom was a nurse, and aware of what we should eat. When I asked “What’s for dinner?”, she would say: “Son, it’s a special meal tonight. We are having butylated hydroxytoluene, monosodium glutamate, citric acid, polydextrose, zinc oxide, yellow #5, high fructose corn syrup, xanthan gum, propylene glycol, polysorbate 60, caramel color, malic acid, some wood pulp, and some grapes. This was a long time ago. Today’s dinner would have dozens more “delicious” ingredients, would probably taste better because of the additives, and would be more filling because of the unique supplements, including rodent hair, fish bladders and coal tar.

#3

I could smell it when I pulled into the driveway. I asked “what’s for dinner?” I knew already…a tuna casserole. It was easy to throw together. It was like eating a gas leak. You could smell it, see it, and you knew that if you had too much of it, it would probably kill you. Had she foregone the spices, the dinner would have been much better and palatable. She overdid the spices and the crumbled blue cheese sprinkled over the pasta mixture. It turned out to be a big rectangle of gelatinous, yellowish paste, and it tasted like ass.

RICHARD

Life lessons

Experience has taught me that – depending on circumstances – there are some questions that it’s usually better not to ask.

Never, for example, ask a friend “Does this outfit make me look fat?”

When pulled over by a policeman, never ask them why they’re not using their time catching real criminals.

And never ask for a person’s full sexual history on a first date.

Most important of all, unless you have a particularly strong stomach, when traveling in Korea, China or Japan, never but never, ask what’s for dinner.

Because they might just tell you!

And refusal often offends.

TOM

Car died in The Double tree

I get an email at 1:40 informing me artwork has been accepted for a show setting up at 8:00 in San Jose. Four in bumper to bumper I pull into the hotel parking lot. Stering and electrical dies. Call Triple A, its the alturnator. Call Gail, who calls Amy, who calls me. Lost in hotel parking Amy calls. Bout this moment I’m the cell is most important tool I own. We pull into Fremont at 10:30. All I want is bathwater and food. Wonder what I’ll have for dinner. Comfort food

SERENDIPITY

There comes a point in a marriage, when all of the magic has gone, and all you’re left with is the depressing realisation that this is as good as it’s ever going to get.

You resign yourself to a future of futile fallings out and bitter disagreements about who’s going to put out the bins, those irritating habits your spouse insists are in your imagination, and conversational exchanges limited to the bare bones of necessary information…

What are you watching?

Why were you late home from work?

What’s for dinner?…

Arsenic dear, with a helping of hemlock on the side!

LIZZIE

The children looked at their plates, disappointed.
“Can’t we have something different for a change?”
“Be grateful, there’s food on the table,” replied the headmistress.
Some of the kids sulked, others refused to eat. When lunch ended, most of the food went back to the kitchen, untouched.
“What should I do with this?” asked the head cook.
“Give it to the dogs. There’s no room in the fridge. And when you go by the cemetery later today, don’t bring the hands. The kids don’t like seeing fingers floating in the soup. Oh, well, at least the dogs will be happy.”

NORVAL JOE

Mickey helped the unnamed girl across the street to the Chicken King restaurant.
“Mmmm. What’s for dinner?” she asked when they pushed through the front door.
“Chicken, of course,” Mickey said. “But you shouldn’t eat anything. You may have a concussion.”
“Oh right. I forgot,” she said with a sheepish smile.
“What’s going on?” Mandy asked, walking around the counter to them.
“This girl got hit on the head. She has amnesia. I need to take her to the hospital.”
“Let me see,” Mandy said, examining the girl’s scalp. “Mickey. This girl’s pulling your leg. This isn’t blood. I’s ketchup.”

TURA

What’s for dinner?
———
Squeak, we called him, because of his squeaky little voice. Our little brother, but little for his age too, never got strong enough to make himself useful. Not much in his head either. When Squeak was hungry, which was all the time, he squeak “What for dinner?” over and over. Boiled potatoes and salt, usually.

I don’t really know what became of him. I didn’t notice him for a few days, and when I asked, Da said he’d fallen from a tree. We never talked more, not even among us brothers. Times were hard, and what else could you do?

PLANET Z

Bud Abbott and Lou Costello took the “Who’s on First?” routine all around the world.
They milked it for all they could.
Once, they tried to do a tour of Africa, but their plane went down in the jungle.
Bud and Lou were captured by cannibals, who threatened to eat them.
The comedians thought quickly on their feet and came up with “Who’s for Dinner?”
“No, What’s for dinner,” growled Abbott. “Who’s on First Base.”
“What’s on Second Base?” cried Costello.
“I don’t know!” replued Abbott.
“Third base!” they both shouted.
While the cannibals laughed, they ran for their lives.

Weekly Challenge #526 – Flight

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

Tinny

MUNSI

Flight Risk
By Christopher Munroe

Your Honor, I assure you, I’m not a flight risk.

Unless called upon to land the plane, which would be risky indeed.

I’m not a pilot, after all, I’ve never flown a plane in my life, and not for nothing I’m terrible in a crisis.

That’s why, should something hypothetically happen to the Pilot, it would assuredly not be me taking over in the cockpit.

What?

Of course, Your Honor, I also won’t be in a plane in the first place, because I absolutely won’t leave the country the moment this hearing is over.

Because I’m not a flight risk.

JEFFREY

The Customer is Not Always Right
by Jeffrey Fischer

Phil placed the bar menu in front of the customer, who asked, “Tell me about the Scotch flight.”

“It’s three half-ounce pours of single-malt Scotch, starting with the 12-year-old Glenfiddich, a light, almost floral whisky; then a Highland Park, another 12-year-old, with strong oak notes; and, finally, the Laphroaig 10-year-old, a peaty island malt with a very distinctive ocean character. Would you like to order the flight?”

The customer thought for a moment. “Nah. Just give me a Bud Light.”

It was moments like this for which Phil appreciated his strong impulse control, or otherwise he would have slugged the customer.

Takeoff
by Jeffrey Fischer

I inwardly groaned when the big man sat next to me, in the middle seat. He wore a beater undershirt and I could see sweat accumulating on his hairy arms. On takeoff, he gripped the arm rests so tightly his fingers gouged holes in the vinyl. When the flight attendant came by, he asked for two vodkas and downed both quickly. This caused him to sweat even more, but I could see some of the tension disappear.

“It’s my first flight,” he told me, apologetically. “I know I look like a mess, but I’m scared shitless.” I asked him what he did for a living. “I’m in the repo business.” He saw my expression. “Yeah, I know. I take cars away from angry people but I’m afraid of sitting in a metal can at 30,000 feet.”

I told him, “Let me buy you another vodka.”

RICHARD

#1 – Pockets

As an effective means of flight from immediate danger, the hobbit’s efforts had been spectacularly unsuccessful. When he finally came round it was with a throbbing headache and bruised face, and the certain knowledge that he really was in trouble now.

He sensed the creature whose cave he shared was very close by, and his groans signalling his return to consciousness prompted his tormentor’s renewed interest.

“So, is it going to tell us what it has in its pockets… Or must we see for ourselves?”

In the darkness, Boggins felt the disturbing touch of leathery fingers scrabbling at his tunic.

#2 – Flight

The weather was foul – so bad, in fact, that most flights had been cancelled.
My travelling companion was not amused. Hardly a happy flyer at the best of times, she’d turned into a nervous wreck during the wait for our gate to open.

“Please don’t worry”, I reassured her, “Flying is one of the safest forms of travel there is.

“What do you know?” she replied, “I’d rather hear it from an expert!”

Once onboard, I beckoned to the flight attendant… “For my companion’s peace of mind, just how often do these planes crash?”

“Only once!” she said, winking.

CHARLIE

The magic of flight intrigued my family. We all had licenses. I had my license while I was in high school. I used to take my dates for a tour, and make a point to fly over my date’s house so she could take some photos of her house and yard. It made an impression, and I was popular with the girls. If I was going steady and the girl cheated on me or broke up with me, I’d make it a point to drop some nasty substances on her house or in the family pool during a night flight.

#2

My wife took flight as soon after discovering some things about me. She came home early and found me sprawled, asleep, on the bed, naked from the waist down, with the vibrator still clutched in my right hand, and her antique, Raggedy Anne doll in my left. I had used the vibrator to pleasure myself, and dozed off. She pretended she hadn’t seen anything, awakening me from the other room by calling out. I discovered that she had packed and was gone when I came home the following day, leaving a note that mentioned “perversion and unfaithfulness…employing a mechanical device”.

#3

Former President Bill Clinton was a frequent flyer on Jeffrey Epstein’s jet. Epstein is a registered sex offender. Clinton took at least 26 trips aboard the “Lolita Express”, a 727. Epstein allegedly had a team of traffickers who procured girls as young as 12 to service his friends on “Orgy Island,” an estate on his 72-acre island in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Flight logs show Clinton flying aboard Epstein’s plane to such destinations as Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore, China, Brunei, London, New York, the Azores, Russia and Africa. What does a creepy guy like Bill Clinton do on these trips?

SERENDIPITY

It’s the most basic animal instinct… Fight or flight – and, to make the wrong decision could literally mean life or death.

For most, that decision is taken entirely out of their hands: it’s a primal, reflex action that happens in a split second at that critical moment when life hangs in the balance.
At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Because instinct isn’t going to save you when you come face to face with me.

Fight, flight, whatever you choose, it’s not going to save you. I’m stronger, faster and my primal instinct is far superior to yours.

LIZZIE

Cramped in their seats, no one moved. No one could move. The flights had become sheer torture. The number of seats increased but no one complained because the prices were irresistible. When the row started at the back, no one gave it much thought. It was only understandable. When the frantic voice of the stewardess asked people to remain seated, no one reacted. When a clearly tense captain announced an emergency landing, most were relieved. When the emergency crews arrived, the biggest piece to be found was the size of a handbag. Dirt cheap, said the flight advertisement. So true.

TOM

UP

Bill and Jack had procured a number of weather balloons from advertisements in the back of Bat Man comics, issue 257 to 265. Getting the canisters of Hydrogen and Helium prove a bit more dicey. Some Midnight requisitioning was employed. They justified the theft under the banner of greater good. They strapped two lawn chairs back to back with a monster amount of duct tape. They got their cool Uncle Frank to haul their airship out to the high desert. The flight was supposed last two hours. The thing finally came down three day later. Their parent seriously ground them.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey wrinkled his nose at the girl’s blood covered hand and asked, “Were you in a fight?”
She frowned and said, “I think I’ve missed my flight.”
“Why. Were you going somewhere?”
“That’s something I shouldn’t share.”
Frustrated, Mickey asked, “Do you always speak in ryhme?”
She laughed. “Don’t you have the time?”
“Stop this. It makes me think you’re crazy,” Mickey gasped.
“Okay,” she said. “I think I should probably go to the hospital.”
“I work across the street. I’ll see if I can borrow my manager’s car.”
“I’ll try to walk, if it’s not to far.”
She winked.

TURA

Flight
———
“We’re flying out from JFK this Sunday,” I said to my friend Fred.

He froze. “Which flight?”

“Early, 05:45 I think.”

“Don’t be on that flight,” he whispered urgently.

Fred worked in avionics. “You mean,” I said slowly, “like that Egyptian flight that crashed into the Mediterranean?”

“Avionics is pwned,” he said. “China can press a ‘SMITE!’ button and a plane crashes. Russia too. We’re playing catch-up, too many here think it’s a bad thing.”

“This is a civilian flight to Europe. Since when was the Atlantic a war zone?”

“Test run on an easy target,” he said. “Catch-up, remember?”

PLANET Z

The fight or flight reflex is a powerful one in my family.
We’re all cowards. There’s nothing that doesn’t scare the bejesus out of us.
Loud noises. Flashing lights.
We’ll even flee at the drop of a hat.
Really. If you dropped a hat, I’d be running away.
Any time someone drops a hat, it’s a mad rush out of the room.
Even Grampa Wally, and he’s got a wooden leg.
We’re not sure which leg is wooden, because both look kind of nasty.
We make him wear a blanket in his lap so as not to scare the children.

Weekly Challenge #525 – Out of my brain

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

Myst

MUNSI

The Human Brain
By Christopher Munroe

This sentence came out of my brain.

So did this one.

That’s weird, right? I mean, it’s just a lump of meat, maybe three pounds or so, yet everything we are and everything we’ll ever be is contained there. Just bobbing around, inside our skulls, behind our faces, a little scrunched-up looking thing from which we build an identity, from which we pull words, sentences, language, stories, ideas…

I mean, not necessarily good ideas.

This one, for example, doesn’t make a lot of sense, but ideas.

We don’t appreciate our brains enough, I think.

They do so much for us…

JEFFREY

5:15
by Jeffrey Fischer

Four fifty-seven p.m.: time to leave the office. Planning the evening commute required split-second timing. Four minutes to the garage, another two to exit the garage, 12 minutes on the surface streets, though this depended a bit on catching the lights just right, and onto the expressway by 5:15. Traffic was building; in another few minutes the road would be impassable. Leaving those three minutes before the hour made all the difference.

Five-fifteen: into the traffic flow, his job was now out of his mind. He punched several buttons and the opening sounds of Quadrophenia filled the car.

Moving in Stereo
by Jeffrey Fischer

I looked down at my body on the operating table. I had read about out-of-body experiences, but I never expected one myself. I watched the respirator move up and down, breathing for me as my body remained unconscious.

I was jolted back to reality by a high-pitched squeal. The monitors flashed an alert and medical personnel scurried to find and resolve the problem, to no avail. Well, that was it for me, I supposed. I was dead. Nothing more to see in this grim room, so I tried to leave. Uh-oh. With growing dismay, it began to sink in that I might be stuck in here for a long time.

CHARLIE

I have psoriasis. Consequently the internal ear is dry and itchy. Fish oil, Vaseline, goose grease, schmaltz, and other moisturizers don’t work. I am digging into my earholes frequently with old Popsicle sticks, paperclips, and twigs. Last Saturday, I was doing some excavation work on my earholes and I inadvertently sneezed and farted concurrently. Consequently, the Popsicle stick was rammed into my ear and I heard a loud pop and my right side went limp. I yanked the stick out, and some orangey, pink jelly covered the end of the stick. It was something out of my brain, I’m sure.

#2

It’s fun to open up your document, release your inhibitions, and let the words flow. The stories that come out of my brain each week often surprise and shock me. If I didn’t know me better, I’d say I was nuts. I am a thin, confused, M to F transgender individual these days, but I am holding on to my netherrod, hoping to find a high bidder when I’m ready for my lower surgery. They tell me I will have a lot left over when they do the surgery, so I’m putting an ad on Craig’s list for a buyer.

#3

He was yelling and pointing in front of Safeway. No one was there. He was out of his mind, or his brain, I suppose. He mumbled something about acid, and I offered help, so I approached him, walking backwards towards him, and sticking two pencils up my nose as I did. When I reached him, I spun around quickly and started singing “I am the Walrus, Goo goo g’ joob Goo Goo Goo g’ joob.” His eyes popped out of his head and he ran screaming into the bushes behind the store. I did my good deed for the day.

RICHARD

Zzzzzzzzzz

Have you ever had one of those nights when you just can’t sleep?

You lie there, thoughts constantly buzzing around your head, whilst you become ever more frustrated with your complete inability to get some sleep.

The more you try to empty your mind, the worse it is. You constantly find yourself recapping the day’s events… They fill your mind – a neverending distraction from the one thing you crave more than anything else…

The blessed relief of sleep!

Then, finally reaching your wit’s end, you sit up, sheets in complete disarray and desperately cry…

“Get out of my brain!”

SERENDIPITY

After the explosion, it was touch and go whether I’d live, but – thanks to a genius surgeon, and the wonders of modern medicine – I survived.

Of course, having half a pound of assorted shrapnel and metal shards pulled out of my brain, even by a genius surgeon, was always going to have some unforeseen consequences.

Nothing significant, just occasional mild insanity.

Personally, I think it’s been the making of me, and looking on the bright side, when the worst happens you can rest assured that it’s not going to bother me at all…

Although…

It might bother you!
—

LIZZIE

The roads were littered with metal scraps. The food was scarce. No one dared say a word. The real problem was none of this; it was the compulsory pea-sized contraption. Then, they went back home and all the brains on Earth were placed in suspended mode, our bio energy being sucked away, long-distance. When they returned for a check-up, I was part of the test sample. I hid, and jabbed my eye to get them out of my brain. I lost an eye but they never saw me again. More have done it too. We’ll get Earth back, one day.

TOM

Oh No!

Murray had a habit of saying the most unappropriated thing at the precisely the most optimum moment. “It just came out of his brain, “his sister Ann would say “It was like the tin-foil was just strengthening the signals from Planet Murray. No one wanted to sit next to Murray at a family funeral. Visits to sick relatives often ending with 911 calls. During his wedding to Laura there was brisk wagering on how long it would take him to fuck it up. To everyone’s surprise and loss Murray just stayed in his brain with the help of his heart

NORVAL JOE

The auditorium was too dark to determine the nature of the body between the rows of seats. Male, female, young, old, dead or alive.
Mickey climbed down from the seats and knelt by the unmoving body.
“Oooh, oooh? Are you okay?” he asked, pulling lightly on a strand of hair.
She groaned and shook her head, pulled herself to her knees, and onto one of the seats.
“I’m Mickey. Who are you and what happened?”
“I’m, um, shoot. I know it, but it slipped out of my brain.” She rubbed her head and pulled her hand away, covered with blood.

TURA

Out Of My Brain
———
After a long rehabilitation, I visited the scientific team to see the tumour the surgeon had cut out of my brain.

I’d volunteered for the experiment. The neuroma had to come out anyway, so I’d donated the tissue to the project. It had been grown to fill a tank dominating the room, surrounded by tubes and machines.

“Penrose was right about quantum neural computation,” said the project leader. “This thing thinks faster than anything before. We’ve just completed the speech and hearing interfaces.”

“You can talk to it? What does it say?”

“MO-O-O-O-RRE BRAIINNZZZ!!” replied the brain in the vat.

PLANET Z

Apple, Microsoft, Google, and Amazon formed a partnership for the ultimate online product.
mybrain dot com was a computer-human interface. It would allow instant learning, store memory backups, and so much more.
And they gave it away for free.
Government regulators went completely ape-shit over it.
Until the four companies declared war on anyone that opposed their efforts.
Millions of bureaucrats, protesters, and religious officials discovered their email and data had vanished.
The hypocrites among the opposition who used free mybrain units all died in their sleep.
Massive cerebral hemorrhages.
Everyone else instantly learned not to oppose the new masters.