Category: Weekly Challenge

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

If you come up with a story on this topic after this post went up, feel free to send it in and I can add it to the site.

MUNSI

The Rave in the Cave
By Christopher Munroe

It’s an amazing name for an event, but in execution, two problems become apparent.

Firstly: Raving in an actual cave reminds people too much of the Matrix Sequels.

Second: I’m in my thirties, what the fuck am I even doing at a rave?

Nonetheless, the acoustics in the cave were amazing, and I figured with enough club drugs I’d enjoy myself regardless of the inappropriateness of my weekend plans.

Men in their thirties still party like nineteen-year-olds, after all!

We just pay for it in the morning.

And that, in a nutshell, is why I’m not coming into work today…

JEFFREY

Fallout Shelter
by Jeffrey Fischer

He told his wife that the apocalypse was near and that they needed to be prepared. She nodded and grunted what he took to be an assent – he had timed the request for a “Real Housewives” marathon so she wouldn’t pay much attention to him – and he ordered the supplies.

For the next few weeks, trucks arrived in the driveway, unloaded, and drove off. His wife paid little heed to the process until she saw the Budweiser truck pulling away. She ventured into the basement. Case after case of beer was piled high in one corner. He had furnished the cellar with a dozen reclining chairs, all facing a 72″ TV.

“This doesn’t look like a shelter,” she complained. “It looks more like a man cave that sucked up our retirement savings!”

“You ride out nuclear winter your way, and I’ll ride it out mine.”

Vintage Expedition
by Jeffrey Fischer

The spelunkers widened the gap and wedged themselves into the cave. They were excited to be the first humans to explore here. Cautiously, with miners’ lamps illuminating the way, they moved ever deeper into the mountain.

At last, the narrow passageway ended in an enormous cavern – that was filled with cases of beer and wine. One of the men finally found his voice. “My God, we’ve died and ended up in Heaven.”

“Actually,” said a prissy voice from some distance away,” you’re in the wine cellar of Maison Blanche, which is directly above us. And you’re trespassing. Unless you have a dinner reservation?”

RICHARD

Cave

Boggins could tell the owner of the voice was not amused. The creature laughed – a gurgling, oily, guttural sound that set the hobbit’s already tense nerves into a state of agitated panic.

A slimy, scratchy, slithering filled the cave and Boggins realised with horror that his unseen companion was drawing closer.

He had to get out of that cave!

In abject terror, he leaped for the cave entrance, however in his haste he completely misjudged his flight and crashed heavily – face first – into the unyielding stone of the cave’s mouth.

Gibbering quietly, he slipped gently into unconsciousness.

SERENDIPITY

They sealed up the entrance to the cave after the accident, declaring it too dangerous for recreational pursuits.

Four dead and no bodies recovered.

Four dead – that’s what they thought, but it was three dead and one survivor.

You have no idea what being sealed up in a cave for six months with only the decaying bodies of your friends for company does to you.

But I know exactly what it does to you.

And now that I’ve tunnelled my way back out, those who abandoned me are going to find out exactly what it does to you too!

LIZZIE

The growling coming from the cave was nothing compared to the fear they shared of ghosts. Emily, however, had a deep rooted curiosity about entities of a parallel dimension. The problem was that these entities enjoyed playing tricks on their mortal counterparts. One was imitating voices and that growling was exceptionally realistic indeed. When they stepped inside the cave to take a picture of the ghost, the flash showed them, for a fraction of a second, the chilling white teeth of a huge black bear. “Oh, so ghosts don’t exist after all,” said Emily disappointed with the insignificant furry problem.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey had a choice. He could search through each of the books or he could chase after Polecat. The latter seemed more productive.
The exit she had taken opened into short passage. At one side was another exit onto the street, on the other a door stood ajar to a small theater. Monkey Boy peeked into the assembly room. As dark as a cave he could see nothing, though his monkey senses picked up the sound of someone breathing.
Mickey slipped off his shoes and climbed along the backs of the seats. He leapt on a form laying between rows.

TOM

PreNeolithic Dwelling

Me happy. Me dry. Life good in cave. Fuckn cave good. Forest sucks. Damn animals. Mate likes cave. She decorating. Want mural. So I paint Fuckn animals. Ever paint in the dark. It’s a bitch. She hate mural. Fuck her. Me go hunt. Bear finds cave. Need new mate. Maybe new cave. Good idea. Bigger cave. Maybe sub leases. Neanderthals good. Bit slow. Good with children. Smell funny. Wait, I smell funny. Fuck we all smell funny. Cave coming along. New mate wants new mural. Same old story. Hunt and paint. Story of me life. Maybe paint bears. This time.

TURA

Cave
———
“Siri, where is the One Ring?”

“It is at the foot of the Cave of the Ancients, in the Lost Valley of the Kings, beyond the Mountains of Doom, across the Misty Seas. Giant scorpions scuttle through the Cave. The Valley is filled with Inextinguishable Fire. The Mountains walk and crush all intruders, and the Misty Seas cannot be navigated.”

“eBay, where is the One Ring?”

“It is being auctioned by sauron8645. The current price is 561 kilograms of Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Facebook, where is the One Ring?”

“That account has been locked for making public posts of images of basilisks.”

PLANET Z

I challenged my students to determine the true identity of Batman.
One student used Google Earth and traffic cameras to reveal that the Batmobile went back to a cave near Wayne Manor.
Another student matched DNA from a Joker-Batman fight to Bruce Wayne.
A third student found Wayne Enterprises patents on a bunch of Batman’s gear.
Finally, a fourth student traced the Batcomputer’s route through Wayne Manor’s Comcast router.
Truly brilliant. Best student’s I’ve had since I was released from Arkham and offered a teaching positions.
I also advise the school newspaper.
“Riddle me this, Bruce…” the headline will shout.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

JEFFREY

Magic Trick
by Jeffrey Fischer

Think of a number between 1 and 100. Got it? No, don’t tell me, just keep it to yourself. Okay, now double it. Double it again. Subtract 10. Take the cube root. Yes, I’ll wait while you look up what a cube root is. Multiply by Pi. All right, multiply by three instead. Now round to the nearest integer. Integer – that’s a whole number, no decimal points. Sheesh, what do they teach you kids these days?

Your number is four. Are you calling me a liar, you little so-and-so? You should be ashamed of yourself.

The Elephant in the Room
by Jeffrey Fischer

Agent 006.5 was trapped. Wires extended from a device on his head to equipment on the wall. His nemesis, Doctor Chuckles, twiddled several knobs.

“Are you planning to kill me? If so, just get it over with.”

“Kill you? Nev… well, not just yet. No. This device will amplify your emotions and feed them back on you. Remain calm if you want to live.

The spy knew he was in a hopeless situation. He thought of a number, the number seven – specifically double-0 seven – and how that slick bastard slept with every woman 006.5 ever dated. He hated that smug, martini-sipping fop with a passion. The anger rippled out from the spy and destroyed the room, killing himself and a very surprised Doctor Chuckles.

RICHARD

#1 – Riddle

The voice again urged Boggins to reveal what was in his pockets – but there was no way he was going to mention the gold ring.

“I’ll tell you, if you can answer my riddle”, he replied.

“Oh… We likes riddles, so we do”, came the disturbing response.

“Ummm, something about three, and two legs… No, that’s wrong… What goes down when it’s up a chimney… No, forget that…”

Desperately, he blurted out the first promising thing he could think of:”Think of a number. Any number!”

“Seven!” Came the triumphant reply.

“Wrong!” Shouted Boggins. Immediately regretting his stupidity!

#2 – Sid

Sid is one of those annoying, know it all friends. As a kid, always the first with his hand up in class, the highest scores in tests and an annoying habit of explaining how magic tricks worked.

The sort who can’t spend an evening in the pub without demonstrating a beer mat or matchsticks trick.

Most irritating.

So when Sid, asked me to think of a number, I was determined to get the upper hand.

He did all the usual calculations, then proudly revealed my number.

It was wrong.

He looked annoyed, “So, what was it?”

“Pi”, I replied, smugly!

MUNSI

A Brain-Teaser
By Christopher Munroe

Think of a number. Any number you like.

Got it?

Good.

Now: Take your number, add three, multiply by five, then subtract four. Take the digits of the new number, add them together, then divide the total by two.

Don’t tell me what the answer is, that’s the trick after all.

Ready?

The answer is a different number!

Or possibly the same number!

Oh, yeah, I forgot to say, I am NOT good at math. Or brain-teasers. What I AM good at is wasting time that you’ll never get back, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!

Mwaa-hahahaha!!!!

PLANET XRAY

Catching Up

Think of a number, any number between one and five,

Got it? I’m sorry, you picked the wrong number.

Try again, Think of a number between one and five.

Oops, you picked the wrong number again.

One more time, Think of a number between one and five.

I must say you are consistent; you picked the wrong number a total of three times in a row.

Good thing I didn’t say, pick two, you’d come with something like.

My dumb hammer hacked at the wolf while he was drunk from the fermented cherries, pacing a line in a round cage.

SERENDIPITY

I can think of a number of reasons that I never have any luck finding that ‘someone special’.

For a start, I’m rather socially awkward, so speed dating, or even regular dating aren’t options, so I’ve turned to the Internet to find love.

I read somewhere that an honest and interesting profile is key, and I’ve worked hard on mine…

Thirty something, Intelligent, fun loving, good sense of humour, seeking lonely, soulmate. Affinity for razor sharp objects, and a strong stomach are essential qualities. Prefer a loner with no immediate family. Must like kittens.’

Still not having any luck though

LIZZIE

“He slept for a thousand years,” read Mrs. Thomson. “And when he woke up,” she continued, hoping to keep the class quiet. “He…”
That’s when Peter stood up.
“Why did he sleep that long?”
The kids looked at him.
“I don’t understand.”
The quiet class quickly turned into a mob of loud kids.
“Children, the story isn’t over yet,” protested Mrs. Thomson. It was hopeless.
Twenty years went by and Mrs. Thomson received a letter.
“I think I understand why he slept for a thousand years. I wish I could do the same.
Signed,
Peter, in for a life sentence.”

CHARLIE

Tony La Mesmer was a professional hypnotist. Last night he had two men in their underpants, in a deep trance, acting like puppies; barking, jumping on his lap, and sniffing his behind.

Tony had a following of acolytes and hangers-on under his control. This cadre of talent-less worshipers were not wise to La Mesmer’s tricks. He would have them think of a number, then write a love poem based on the number. About three-quarters of them went insane in the first month, as the challenge was too much for them, taxing their intellect, creativity, skill and willingness to “follow orders”.

#2
I thought of a number of between one and ten. Seven is the number chosen by most people. Seven is the number of perfection and completeness. God rested on the seventh day.

If you were born on the seventh day of the month, you have a tendency to be self-centered and stubborn. On the other hand, if you investigate the various signs of the zodiac, you will come to learn that the seventh sign (Libra) indicates that birth under this sign suggests you are the artistic type and if you are male, you are probably a homo, a woman…a whore.

TOM

Q is the Loneliest Number

When I think of a number I think of Q. It’s sort of like ‘E’, but different. It’s an irrational number which is useful when you need to find the area of a circle in a square or its Perimeter or the volume of sphere in a cube. Let me give you the first 13 decimals places, so you can plug them into your spreadsheet. I’ll also include the formulas for using Q. You won’t find Q in any math text, nor the result of a quoted Google search. The number self generates out of PHI during an inverted transformation.

————-

Q is equivalent to .7853981633974
Area equals length of the side by the length of the side times Q
Volume is equivalent to twice the cube of the side times Q divide by 3

Perimeter is equivalent to four times the length of the side time Q

That’s accuracy to the width of an electron orbit

NORVAL JOE

Mickey slid Cherry Cola onto the floor and checked her pulse. It was strong and her breathing, regular. She probably wasn’t in any real danger.
Though it was early in the day, the library seemed all but empty. He crept silently past shelves of books.
A shuffling sound echoed from the Sociology section. Turning down an aisle, Polecat pushed a book back into place and ran for the exit.
A book on this shelf could explain Polecat’s presence in the library. But which one?
Pick a number between 327.035 – International Relations and 345.667 – Criminal Law, and start reading.

TURA

Think of a number
———
Throughout my mathematical career, my goal of proving Riemann’s hypothesis seemed always just beyond my grasp.

One night, an angel appeared to me in a dream, and said, “Think of a number bigger than God.”

A billion, a googleplex: kindergarten stuff. Even the enormity of Graham’s number is a simple thing to a mathematician. In a frenzy of thought I constructed new ways of defining ever more gigantic numbers. Finally, I answered the angel. “Four,” I said, “for God is but three in one.” “All is granted to you,” said the angel.

And when I awoke, I had my proof.

PLANET Z

Ever since I started using a cell phone instead of a landline, I’ve had the same number. I just transfer the number between new phones and new carriers.
At work, I don’t have a phone number. Tell me what you need through an email, a chat, or a text.
Not in person, though. Then I have to write that shit down.
Heck, it’s the same way with my personal number, really. Unless it’s to call the bank or credit card company, everybody else has an app for that now.
Well, except my mom. No wonder why she’s pissed at me.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

MUNSI

On Apologies
By Christopher Munroe

It’s been said that it’s easier to say, “I’m Sorry,” than it is to ask permission. And this is true.

Ask permission anyway.

Don’t be a dick, make sure what you’re planning is okay with all involved parties before going through with it, it’s just basic consideration of other people and their needs. Be a human being, make sure you’re not hurting anyone BEFORE doing whatever the fuck you want.

And while you’re at it; Just in general stop basing life decisions on what’s easier. That’s no way to live, you lazy path of least resistance-taking piece of human garbage!

JEFFREY

The Non-Apology
By Jeffrey Fischer

One of the many unpleasant modern inventions is the non-apology. They’re all the rage. First, someone says something offensive, such as “Students at Emory University are delicate snowflakes, unable to cope with a presidential candidate’s name written in chalk.” Said students object to being called delicate snowflakes, and the Snowflake Preservation Society objects to the comparison with sensitive college students. After controversy erupts, the speaker says, “If I have offended anyone with my remarks, I’m sorry.” The first clause essentially negates the rest. The speaker never acknowledges he was wrong, and vaguely implies that the statement was nothing worth taking offense over. The media then rush to cover the next faux-outrage.

The Silent Treatment
By Jeffrey Fischer

Of the many forms of spousal argument, the silent treatment is perhaps the second-most unfair, falling just short of crying. The offending spouse often wonders just what he did wrong. He knows something is bothering her, but he can’t ask – or, rather, if he does, he gets no reply, beyond a hurt-sounding, “You know what you did.” He tries to make amends, first with a non-apology of “I’m sorry for whatever I did wrong,” and then, when that fails, a wild guess at the offense, followed by a heartfelt, “I’m sorry, I know I was wrong for -“, filling in the guess. If he’s a good guesser, this might end the silence.

On the other hand, if he doesn’t like to hear her talk, he just guesses incorrectly, over and over. Sometimes silence is golden.

TOM

Go’n Dark Tonight
“I’m sorry,” I said as I pulled the knot tighter. The look in his eyes was priceless. “You’re trying to place the face, Accounting, The Gym, The waiter at Mario’s, One of Martha’s sycophantic students. I’m sure you will recall the meeting you’re such a clever guy. But the Who isn’t as important as the why. Why is the man behind blue eyes doing this? Good, a flash of recognition to my feeble Townshend reference. Shows heighten male bonding. It’s so sad we never had an opportunity like this before today.” I retighten the counter-weight and turned out the light.

RICHARD

Artificial Intelligence

I’ve always been disappointed computers never turned out to be quite as exciting as they might have.

Imagine the fun of IT that functioned like that of sixties’ sci-fi magazines or the iconic computers in the movies?

My favourite was HAL9000, and I can’t help thinking computer manufacturers missed a trick… What if, rather than a bland ‘Resource not found’ message, we had a calm, unnerving voice instead:

“I’m sorry Dave, I can’t do that”

Of course, there’s always the worry we’d be dealing with a megalomaniac, psychotic intelligence with a hidden agenda.

But isn’t that what computers are anyway?

SERENDIPITY

I have a large and comprehensive vocabulary.

It comes with the territory – you can’t have the sort of interests like mine without picking up a surprising degree of specialist knowledge along the way.

The tools and techniques of forensic pathology and surgery; the terminology of butchery; a smattering of legal words and phrases – essential for navigating the dark and unsavoury places my hobbies necessarily lead me.

Even so, there are some words that have never featured in my vocabulary, and frankly, they never will.

You see, the one thing I can never see myself saying is…

‘I’m sorry’

TURA

Sorry
———
Please remain at your desks.
A fire has been detected on floor 17.
There is no cause for alarm.
The situation is under control.
We apologise for the inconvenience.

Halon flushing triggered on floors 14 to 20.
Doors and windows have been sealed to contain the situation.
There is no cause for alarm.
Remain where you are, until the all clear.

Fire services will arrive shortly.
The situation is under control.
Do not attempt to combat the fire yourself.
Remain at your desks.
We apologise for the inconvenience.

Remain where you are! Remain where you are! Remain where you are!

(Audio credits: bell by battlestar10, fire by JaBa, from soundbible.com.)

LIZZIE

A whisper, barely a murmur, caught his attention that night.
He squinted, adjusting to the darkness of the alley. A few steps and he heard it again.
“Who’s there?”
No one replied.
The murmur became a lament, loud and mournful.
He followed the sound as he stepped into the shadows.
Suddenly, he saw the shiny blade coming from the right and instinctively turned around.
That grin, he recognized her.
“I’m sorry,” he yelled in despair, trying to save himself. “I’m sorry.”
But it was too late.
“I’m not,” she replied, grinning as she did back then while he raped her.

NORVAL JOE

Cherry Cola stood and stumbled toward Monkey Boy. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy to see me?” She slurred her words and looked as if she fought to keep her eyes open.
“I’m sorry,” Mickey said. “I expected to find someone else in here.”
She collapsed into his arms.
Mickey dragged her to a chair and collapsed into it with her on his lap. She batted her eyes sleepily and mumbled, “I’m sorry I walked out on you. I didn’t want to, but…”
Cherry’s head tipped back revealing a red welt on her neck where someone had injected a sedative.

suggested prompt….good answer

PLANET Z

When I heard that Prince died, I knew that my social media timelines would be full of quotes from his songs, clips from his concerts, and headlines from parasitic gossip rags all over the world.

I shut down my computer, turned on Netflix, and watched Tim Burton’s Batman.

It was campy and cheesy. Jack Nicholson was a stiff smirking mannequin with the acting range of a failed North Koean ballistic missile blowing up on the pad.

But the music was great.

No, not Prince’s music. Danny Elfman’s backing tracks.

Prince? Couldn’t stand him.

Now play me some Morris Day, bitch.

Music by bensound.com

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

MUNSI

On Slow Nights
By Christopher Munroe

Sometimes a man needs to get drunk on rum and Cherry Coke whilst watching B-movies.

Whether Hammer Horror, New Line Cinema or something dumb by Nicolas Cage, I suspect you’ve had this impulse too, it’s a fun evening, though not one you can partake in every night.

Moderation, and whatnot.

I live-tweet the experience, myself, though I suspect nobody’s as amused by it as me. Hmm, now that I think about it, I ought to do that again sometime soon.

Something where 90s style computers are hacked, perhaps. Or the one where Liam Neeson fights wolves. I’ll figure something out…

JEFFREY

Gym Rat
by Jeffrey Fischer

One of the things that keeps me out of gyms is the presence of the annoying jock. You know the type: he’s not there to keep in shape, he’s there to show that he’s better than you. A solid week of rain kept me from my usual outdoor routine, so, reluctantly, I went to the office gym.

Sure enough, one guy was in there at the dumbbells, preening at the two women in the room as he curled one arm and then the other, each time grunting audibly. The women ignored him, but he kept trying.

That hacked me off. I was going to hate myself later, but I wanted to finish in peace. “What big muscles you have,” I said, with a leer that he couldn’t miss. He couldn’t leave quickly enough.

The Three Rs
by Jeffrey Fischer

Once upon a time, the school used a tracking system: smart kids in one set of classes, dumb kids in another. Somehow that was supposed to be bad for the self-esteem of the dumb kids, so the school ended tracking and the kids were thrown to the wolves. Parents complained, so the school instituted an Advanced Placement program so smart kids could opt in, and order was restored to the educational universe. Then the school overlords noticed racial disparities in participation. Administrators conjectured that the problem was that households where English was not spoken did not learn about the AP program – the program conducted entirely in English.

The moral of this story is: think twice before calling a child dumb, but don’t hesitate to apply the label to a school administrator.

RICHARD

#1 – Oops!

How could I have been so dumb? Hacked by a ransomware scammer, because I’d stupidly opened what I thought was an unpaid invoice.

Worse, I’d opened it in work: now the whole network was locked up with the clock ticking – If I didn’t come up with the demand in Bitcoins, we’d lose the lot…

Petabytes of sensitive data, wiped out thanks to my stupidity.

Fortunately, because of my work, I have contacts – a couple of phone calls, followed by a long tense wait, and then: Success!

And that’s how a lowly accounts clerk nearly brought down the CIA!

#2 – Dumb

How could I have been so dumb? Getting blind drunk on cherry kirsch is never a good idea… And the ‘good ideas’ I have when I’m in that state rarely turn out to be quite that impressive in the cold light of day.

Like the ransomware thing – I thought I was being clever. Disguised as a laundry bill, I thought it would be hilarious to send it to the CIA, never once thinking anyone there would be stupid enough to fall for it!

It’s not fun any more… I’m just waiting now for that fateful knock on the door…

#3 – One of the good guys

How could I have been so dumb?

My big chance to get even with my former employer: I blew it.

When the guy came on the line, panic stricken because he’d locked up the network, thanks to some second rate amateur hacker, I should have left him to face the music.

Better still, I could have got in on the action: Creamed off my own share of the ransom, and retired to some sunny beach somewhere… What a missed opportunity!

I stepped out of the Faraday cage, back to the real world… Guess I’m just one of the good guys.

#4 – Consequences

How could I have been so dumb?

The accounts guy was trouble – just too cocky for his own good – an accident waiting to happen. I should never have hired him.

Does he really think we don’t know about his little misadventure nearly closing us down?

People like that need to be taught a lesson – and trust me, the hammer is going to fall. The guys who’ll be conducting his disciplinary are not known for their charity, and by the time they’ve finished with him he’ll wish he’d never been born.

Time to feed him to the wolves!

SERENDIPITY

Cherry red – it’s my favourite colour.

But you do need an eye for detail – nick a vein by mistake and you get that gloopy, sticky, blue-tinged mess. It’s a horrible shade that ruins the scene.

I’m an artist, you see, and colour is everything.

But, executed properly, you’ll get a wonderful spray of bright arterial blood: Fresh and glorious. That’s what I crave.

It’s only painstaking, precision work that produces a masterpiece.

It’s rarely appreciated though. I read the headlines: ‘The victim was hacked to death’.

Hacked! How dare they? – I’m an artist!

Everyone’s a critic!
—

LIZZIE

When staring at a line of people, it’s often difficult to spot who the dumb ones are.
Sometimes, they just look dumb. Other times, they hide it under a layer of apparent effectiveness. Phones are now especially useful for that; people look like they have extremely busy lives, doing extremely important things.
When the newest computer game came out, hacker John X watched the line of people standing at the entrance of the store, waiting impatiently for the doors to open, and he was sure of one thing. They were all dumb, no exceptions. Their eagerness would be their downfall.

TOM

Which End of the Line Do You Stand?
Dumb ideas abound. When someone in the shop has one and it goes seriously wrong his dick is in the ringer. But let management do the same and they are seen as risk taker, bold, and given infinity corporate opportunities to fuck over. Seems there is no glass basement that you can break through. Take the smartest guy in the room Carly Fiorina damn near killed HP. And Frank Lorenzo, who was named one of Time’s 10 worst bosses of the century. Hacks in suits the lot of them. They’d uses a god damn hammer on a Philips head screw.

NORVAL JOE

When his shift ended, Mickey shot a bee line for the library. He knew he was dumb to think he might still find Polecat.
Dating back to the 1890’s, the building was dark like a cave with side passages which he was sure lead to dens inhabited by orcs, dragons and werewolves.
Manic clicking led Mickey to a corner where a girl hacked at a computer keyboard. She swayed as if drunk.
Her long, red-brown hair was familiar, then the hammer dropped. “Cherry Cola. What are you doing?”
“Monkey Boy,” she said. “Nice to see you out of your cage.”

TURA

Dumb wolves
———
They’re coming.

People thought that genetically modifying dogs for intelligence would just make them into better companions, better guide dogs, better at everything we have dogs for. It just made them better at everything, period.

Better at running away. Better at foraging in the wild. In wolf country, better at joining wolf packs. The bigger breeds can mate with wolves.

Natural selection is doing the rest. Intelligence is such an advantage that the number of smart dog-wolves is doubling with every generation.

They say their howls sound like language.

When will they get here? I lie awake every night, listening.

PLANET Z

They say that Bob Grundy is as dumb as a bag of hammers, but I don’t know how you measure the intelligence of a bag of hammers.

I tried to test them with the maze we use to test mice, but the bag doesn’t really fit into the maze. It was built for mice, not bags of hammers.

And I don’t think cheese has much appeal to bags of hammers.

Although I did notice that when I offered the bag of hammers a cigarette, it didn’t accept the cigarette.

Smarter than me, I suppose, as I hack and cough painfully.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

Munsi

On Slacktivism
By Christopher Munroe

A public service announcement: Nobody’s mind has ever been changed about any issue based on a political meme they saw on Facebook.

Everyone, on some level, understands this, yet we keep posting and reposting the damn things as though they helped illustrate any sort of point.

Actual news articles are okay.

And people who I DO agree with politically? This is directed at you too.

You think you’re making a difference, with your cartoons and re-captioned screen-grabs. You think you’re contributing to the debate.

I understand that, it’s just that you’re not.

You’re not contributing to anything.

You’re just Mass-debating.

Jeffrey

Math is Hard
by Jeffrey Fischer

Demographic change is a harsh mistress. She can be a bitch. Liberals will tell you the West has nothing to fear from a Muslim minority. Just a few generations will change the nature of the debate. In a native population that isn’t growing and an immigrant population that doubles in size every generation, a 20% minority today becomes half the population in two generations and two-thirds in only three. I’ll venture a guess that at that point gay and transgender rights won’t be at the top of the agenda.

Liberals insist that a two-degree temperature change a century from now is our greatest threat, but are blind to closer catastrophes. This what happens when one dozes through math class.

The Debate
by Jeffrey Fischer

Hillary Clinton squared off against Donald Trump in their only televised debate. The moderator implored the candidates to stay on topic and avoid personal attacks. First question: what are your strengths?

Hillary: “First, I want to thank the American people for tuning in tonight. Seeing a debate with a woman candidate is so important. Second, as a woman Secretary of State, I was a role model to women everywhere. Did I mention my gender? In conclusion, women: vote with your uterus!”

Trump responded, “Strengths? Oh, I have strengths. More strength than you can imagine. And I’ll use those strengths to make America great again! I have plans to use my strengths, and I’ll lay out those plans shortly. I tell you, it’ll be YUGE!”

Hillary interjected, “See, I’m a woman! Female! Vote me!”

The network cancelled the rest of the debate, showing a “Judge Judy” rerun instead.

Richard

Not alone

Boggins was roused from a fitful sleep by the uncomfortable and chilling realisation that he was no longer alone.

He sensed a presence in the darkness of the cave with him and called out nervously:

“Is there somebody else in here?”

A sibilant whisper came from the murky depths in response.

“I think the question is rather, why is you here? And, what has it got in its pockets?”

Now terrified, the hobbit babbled, “Let’s not get into a debate about it… How about I just slope off and leave you in peace?”

“I think not!”, came the chilling reply.

Serendipity

People will always debate the ethics of the death penalty.

Is it morally right to take a life to appease the taking of another?

Personally, I have no views either way – I simply do my job. Others can debate whether it’s right or wrong.

Thankfully, it’s a pretty one-sided argument as far as I’m concerned, because once they strap you into that chair and attach the electrodes, you know that it’s an argument I’m going to win.

The switch is thrown.

I course around your body, burning and sparking through your mortal flesh.

You die.

No debate.

Tom

Sound Reasoning
August Wagner was state debating champ four years running. I spend endless hour helping him build his card file. I was no debater, to this day I couldn’t win an argument to save my life, but August had the ability to slowly set the seeds of doubt in the most ironclad defense. The most frequent reply from his opponents was: we never saw it come. After college we drifted apart. I googled him last year. Seems he became a member of a select group of lawyers who brought case before the Supreme Court. There’s no debating the man had game.

Tura

Debate
———
As my candidate’s champion, I armed myself for the debate. Vambrace, rerebrace, pauldron. Pixane, cervelliere. Iron-framed goggles. Finally, my debating sabre.

The judges decide victory not by first blood, nor a scoring of hits, but by the duellists’ strength of character. Each must stand his ground, heedless of injury. To once lift a foot from the floor may lose the match. Even a too-quick parry is frowned on, and victory never goes to a “klugfechter”, one who evades every strike.

Of course the performance has nothing to do with who would be the best President, but what debate ever did?

Lizzie

The two sides presented their arguments in a very civilized manner. There were no interruptions. The audience clapped in unison after each speaker. The moderator smiled content with how everything was going. During the break, a man sitting at the back stood up and started yelling something about kiss and everyone thought he meant the band. He was rapidly removed by security much to the perplexity of those sitting on the right side of the isle. Those on the left side snickered. At the end, viewers voted. The numbers were clear. The vampires won and it was a bloody mess.

Norval Joe

“Mickey. What are you looking at?” Mandy called from the register.
Stepping back from the front window Mickey struggled with an internal debate. Should he make up a reason to run after Polecat and see what she’s doing in the library, or stay at work and hope she’s still there after his four hour shift?
He’d probably lose his job if he ran out now.
“What was so interesting out the window?” Mandy asked when he finally came back.
Another internal debate.
“Oh. Just a girl I know,” he said.
“A pretty girl?” Mandy teased.
“Pretty Smelly,” Monkey Boy said.

Zackmann

Sorry honey, I can’t do any chores right now because I will be watching a live debate. Not a Presidential debate, a Nutty Debate involving things that are cool mixed with nerd rage. I’m hoping the debate topic is ‘What’s Best Superhero Musical’ I am rooting for Filker Tom Smith’s The Last Hero On Earth, Team Starkid’s Holy Musical B@man, and Pete Townsend’s Iron Giant which I believe inspired the Iron Giant cartoon movie. I suppose I should check Nimlas dot org to see what tonight’s debate is and which steaming website it’s on before I get too excited.

Planet Z

After television networks tired of the name-calling and lies in political campaigns, they tasked IBM with creating virtual candidates based on the speeches and policies of historical figures.

These profiles were enhanced with mountains of data that honestly reflected their actual job performance, which eliminates the usual pandering and empty promises of most candidates.

The public loved them. In fact, they protested against the real candidates, and demanded the virtual ones.

Enough states voted to amend the Constitution to eventually eliminate human lawmakers, political executives, and judiciary.

Other countries joined the movement, as President Watson expanded the digital empire’s reach.

Background music by Bensound.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

Munsi

Bookmobile
By Christopher Munroe

My town’s library system is bringing back the bookmobile!

I mean, they’re calling it “The Book Truck” now, rather than Bookmobile, which is NOT a good name, but that’s fine. It’s not FOR me, it’s for children in neighborhoods lacking easy library access, and I totally get that they don’t have to run the name by me for approval.

And anyway: Bookmobile! For the first time since 1991! Fun times, and a very useful service to the communities it will serve.

Mayor Nenshi is, once again, crushing it.

No punchline this week, gang, I’m just excited that it’s back.

Bookmobile!

Jeffrey

The Street Library
by Jeffrey Fischer

I passed the bum every afternoon. He rattled a cup of change with one hand while keeping guard of a huge box with the other. One day, curiosity got the better of me. “I’ll give you five bucks if you tell me what’s so important in the box.”

The man replied, “It’s a lending library. Oh, you think we can’t read, just because we’re homeless? People donate books and I lend ’em out. Melville is popular, and I can’t keep Proust in stock.”

I gave the bum my five and walked on, impressed. Proust – who would have guessed?

The next bum said to me, “You met Tony? He told you about his library?” I nodded. “What a sucker! Tony is batshit crazy. Ain’t nothin’ in the box but his collection of soda cans.” I heard the bum’s mocking laughter for the next block.

Late Fee
by Jeffrey Fischer

I saw the library aide shelve the new Brad Thor novel. Excited that I wouldn’t have to wait months for the book, I grabbed the copy and tried to check it out. The librarian swiped my card and, with a stern look, said, “You have an overdue book on your account. Harriet the Spy, due June 16.” She paused. “1977.”

“Oh, come now, that was nearly forty years ago. You can’t hold me accountable for a book I checked out in seventh grade. Anyway, I’m sure I returned it.” The woman was resolute, so I went home empty-handed.

Back in my den, I selected a well-worn book from the top shelf and removed the old library card I kept as a bookmark. I began to read. “Harriet was trying to explain to Sport how to play Town….”

Richard

#1 – Community Spirit

We’ve got one of those tiny libraries at the end of our street – you know the sort of thing: It’s like a doll’s house on a pole containing a few well-thumbed trash novels and a note that reads: “To build our community spirit”.

That made me laugh – we haven’t been a community for years… But, I think it may be working.

Local drug dealers use it as a mailbox; school kids use it to stash illicit booze and smokes; and everyone likes to leave anonymous rude notes about their neighbours bad habits.

Community spirit? Yes!

Crappy books though!

#2 – Words

How many books do you reckon your local library has? A couple of hundred, a few thousand, half a million, or more?

And think of all the words between the covers of those books… Millions, upon millions of the things, pages teeming with stories, advice and a wealth of knowledge that is overwhelming in its abundance.

So many books, so many subjects, and oh so many words.

And yet, in a place so dedicated to the preservation and sharing of this wealth of words, has it ever struck you as ever so slightly odd, that you’re actively discouraged… from speaking?

Tom

More Than Words

In my youth despite having a galactic reading deficit I loved books and by proxy a love of libraries. In grammar school I volunteered to put Dewy decimal numbers on book spines. In high school I worked the circulation desk at our local community library. Throughout my college career I’ve worked at a number of university libraries. Everything from shelfing to Audio Visual. When I was on the Civil Grand Jury I wrote a number of reports dealing with unfair labor practices. One day I hope they name a library after me. Don’t think you can get Intermed in one.

Zackmann

Tried to get my kid to try LINK+, you know after I convinced him I wasn’t asking about how to use a Smash Brothers character. I said, “LINK+ is like OverDrive.”
He asked “OverDrive, the gear for a car?.”
“The website for borrowing ebooks.”
He responded “There’s a website for borrowing ebooks?”
I answered “Don’t you know anything? Who raised you? Nevermind that. You must have read about bittorrents on Boing Boing so imagine OverDrive as a legal bittorrent that works with your library card and Link+ like OverDrive for lending hard copies of things outside of local library system.”

Serendipity

There is a book – a very special book – that you won’t find listed in the library catalogue. Yet, it is there… Because that’s where I hid it.

You’d expect to find it under ‘Horror’, perhaps you might even think it should be labelled ‘fiction’, but I assure you every word is true.

You may stumble upon it amongst the autobiographies – you can’t miss it, it’s the only book bound in human skin.

And those pages, stuck tightly together?

Human blood.

It’s my life story.

And, if you like, I’ll write a whole new chapter…

All about you!

Planet Xray

The Great Library

Our cloning facility in Singapore has a wonderful library of DNA samples of people from around the world.

They’re cataloged several ways, as an example, by region.
If you clone someone from Germany, there’s a 75% chance they will be an engineer.

98% of our Kwik Mart stores are staffed and run by clones made from Pakistani DNA.

Our protein providers prefer clones with DNA from New York City, which we call the “Stockyards”.

There’s a blending of all the regions, which balances the tastes.

While America may be the great melting pot, New York City is our Stew Pot.

Lizzie

The books shook on the shelves. At first, they got slightly roughed up. Then, the earthquake became stronger and they all ended up on the floor. Somehow, the Classics got mixed with the Sci-Fi which generated a rather electrifying commotion. The Gothics insisted on moving to the Horror section because they had a few relatives there. And the Mystery hardbacks sulked when they were temporarily lodged with the Crime paperbacks. The only ones thrilled with the uproar were the Erotica books. They had grown tired of being ostracized for years in the stuffy corner at the back of the library.

Norval Joe

Mickey put chicken pieces into pots to marinate and headed to the front of the restaurant to see where Polecat was going. Mandy caught him by the shoulder as he passed her at the register.
“I didn’t mean to come down on you so hard,” she said, carressing his arm.
His heart stopped and his blood ran cold. Mandy could squeeze his arm till his fingers went numb and he wouldn’t stop her, but he needed to see what Polecat was doing.
“No worries,” he said, stumbling free to the front window. Across the street, Polecat slipped into the library.

Tura

Library
———
The signs are clear to a hunter’s eye. A worn, illegible spine. No classmark. Shabby. Conspicuously inconspicuous. Suddenly, I snatch the book from the shelf, flick open the front cover, and slam my “WITHDRAWN” stamp onto the flyleaf, wetted with ink made from burned books. It convulses in my hand for a moment, then lies still. The forbidden teachings remain, but the evil spirit striving to download them into an unwary reader’s mind is no more.

The library pays me well to exorcise their stacks. The Black Librarians pay even better for the volumes that my official employers believe destroyed.

Planet Z

Libraries do so much more these days.
Digital archives. All the world’s information ever.
Genetic repositories.
The flesh stacks. Great for a weekend body mod job.
Hit the fabricators for skin and clothes to fit.
Temporal projection systems.
You can look back through the harmonic impressions of atomic decay.
Every event in history ripples through the cosmos.
Justice researchers gathering evidence for trials, kids writing their term papers.
I like to watch the football.
Barbaric, sure, banned because of the brain damage.
But to watch Lynn Swann leap for a touchdown catch?
Magnificent.
Let’s go print some fluffy tails now.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

On Drinks
By Christopher Munroe

Drinks with rhyming names are delicious!

The Singapore Sling. The Bahama Mama, they’re playful, summery drinks with playful summery names that are fun to say.

Which, naturally, makes them fun to order, which in turn causes people to order them more often. This isn’t coincidental.

Bartenders aren’t dummies, they know the power of a catchy turn of phrase and they’re highly motivated to keep you drinking. Up to a point…

Eventually, the names become syrup in your mouth and you start to trip over them. This is when they cut you off.

Overall, it’s very useful, as naming conventions go…

My Favorite Bartender
by Jeffrey Fischer

I looked around the bar as I took my usual seat. “I don’t like it,” I said to Frank, who was tending bar.

Frank shrugged. “Manager wanted tiki night. What can I do?” He motioned to a line of kitschy mugs that might have been ripped off from a Trader Vics. He slid a cocktail menu in my direction. “So whaddya want?”

“Singapore Sling. Light on the Singapore.” Frank nodded, then grabbed a shaker. He poured a generous portion of gin over ice, added a short portion of dry vermouth, shook, and poured the mixture into a martini glass. After adding a pair of olives, he passed me the drink.

I took a deep swallow. “Frank, you’re the best.”

Keeping It Clean
by Jeffrey Fischer

Some days, I think there’s a great deal to admire about Singapore. Oh, sure, the government is authoritarian and they’re not keen on freedom of speech. On the other hand…

I’ve never understood people spitting in the streets, as though the sidewalks were spittoons. I’ve also seen someone spit on the carpeted floor of the subway. Then there are the smokers who carelessly toss cigarette butts out the car window or on the sidewalk, as though purchasing a pack also conveyed the right to litter.

What does this have to do with Singapore? One word: caning.

Richard
Busking it

I’ve never been musical: instruments of any description are completely beyond me. I tried to learn piano, but kept getting my hands mixed up. Tried the guitar, but my chords couldn’t keep up with my strum, as for the drums… Well, it seems I have no natural rhythm, apart from the wrong one.

Didn’t stop me becoming a busker though, however I now use the natural instrument I’ve been blessed with – my voice.

It’s dreadful. I can just about sing a poor attempt at ‘My Way’, but people are more than happy to pay…

For me to shut up!

Planet X-Ray

iClone

When we were looking for a location to build our secret agent cloning facility, we picked Singapore because it was an island of only 278 square miles, in case any of the rejects got loose.
Also, with a population of 5 million, what better a place to blend in the new agents while they were in training.
Our biggest problem was getting the agents to drive on the correct side, or I should say the left side of the road. That was mainly due to the donor DNA coming from our stockyards in New York City, but that’s another story.

Tom
Singapore Girl
In the golden age of air adventure airlines used a number of cleaver slogans and earworm giggles to entice the middle class to take to the skies. From United’s fly the friendly skies to Braniff’s when you’ve got it flaunt it. Delta’s Delta is ready when you are, and We’re American Airlines doing what we do best. Airlines used iconic images to brand their companies. A koala bear who hates Quntas or a crowd of people creating a winking face for British Airways. My favorite was Singapore Girl a great way to fly, yes its sexist but sure sold tickets.

Lizzie
The Singapore Cleanup

“Where are we?” asked Penny.
The small boat slid through the narrow strips of water.
“I thought…”
“I know, love,” replied Miles.
Unexpectedly, a bend in the canal revealed a boathouse called Singapore. It was deserted.
“Ok. This is unacceptable,” Penny shouted. “Not only do we not travel to Singapore but we have to wait?! We are professionals!”
Suddenly, a sharp sting hit the side of her head. She was gone immediately.
The boat driver then turned his attention to Miles.
“The invitation did say Singapore, last stop.”
Miles tried to go for his gun, but it was too late.

Me: Serendipidy Haven
Story: Singapore

Next time you’re in Singapore, why not forgo cocktails at the Raffles Long Bar? Take a walk on the wild side instead.

Stroll down to the night market and marvel at the street food… It smells so good, but who knows what it is?

Wander past the flower merchants. Just off Pagoda Street is a dark alley.
Half way down, you’ll find a green wooden door. Take the stairs to the second floor.

That’s where I’ll be.

We’ll make mad, passionate love.

Then I’ll kill you and chop you into tiny pieces, to sell to all those street food hawkers!

Tura
The King of Singapore
———
In 1391, the bandit Parmeswara led an insurrection against the Emperor of Thailand, setting himself up as king in the territory now called Singapore. But his followers were never so zealous as he himself, and at last he stood alone. In dying, he cursed the land that had proven unworthy of him, foretelling that no king would ever again stand on its soil.

Since then, it has had vassal overlords, colonial governors, presidents, and prime ministers, but never a king. Even under British rule, the King of England never dared to set foot in his colony. When Japan annexed Singapore, the Emperor declared himself King of Singapore, and within a few years Japan was defeated and its Emperor’s power broken.

To this day, the word “king” is taboo in Singapore, and it is a treasonable offence to use it in reference to any member of the government.

Marv.
Singapore is Calling

We were sailing two days out of Singapore, just north of the Riau Islands, headed for Manila when we hit a squall.
The skies darkened and there was frequent lightning that caused an unnerving pinkish glow in the western sky.
Suddenly, a freakish wind slashed our sails to shreds leaving us to the mercy of the now raging seas.
All we could do to seek safety below deck.
Hammered by the thunder, we never saw the waterspout suck the boat up into it.
When we regained consciousness, we were back in Marina Bay again,
Singapore was calling us to her.

Norval Joe
“I know, Mandy. I’m sorry. I ran into some trouble on the way to work,” Monkey Boy, Mickey Platano said. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” Mandy said. Her stern smile was out of place on her normally cheerful face. She was only eighteen, but was shift manager. Mickey grabbed a smock and followed her out to the cash register.
“Prep the chicken to grill,” she said looking at the bowls of marinating meat. “We need Rio, New Delhi, Peeking, and Singapore.”
Thirty-One flavors of chicken, each named after a city or country.
Polecat walked past the front window.

Planet Z

The phone rang.
The caller ID showed a long number, one of those International numbers.
I looked up the country code, and it said the call was from Singapore.
Who did I know in Singapore? Was someone traveling there, and needed help?
I let the call go to voicemail, and I played the recording.
Nothing but static.
Maybe they’ll call back?
I waited… and waited… and waited.
I tried to dial back the number, but the system told me that the number was no longer in service.
I put my phone down, and let it sit there for a while.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

MUNSI

On Royal Headwear
By Christopher Munroe

I’m no king, but I own a crown.

Because it’s 2016, crowns are readily available for purchase, I wanted one and fuck you, that’s why.

I’ll never lead a nation, but a crown’s something I could make happen, and I deserve to have things that bring me joy.

So I bought it.

Now I own it.

And when I feel down and need to be picked up, I take it out and put it on, and wearing it does make me feel a little better.

And I’ll tell you right now, for the record: I absolutely fucking crush that crown.

JEFFREY

Strategy
by Jeffrey Fischer

The Devil, to stave off boredom, wanted new ways to take souls. He turned to chess. So many suckers thought they had skill at the game. He roamed the boards in Central Park, challenging the players.

Clyde looked like just another homeless black man with a substance-abuse problem. But Clyde had studied the game for years and readily accepted the Devil’s challenge, on one condition: one move per day. The Devil agreed.

Clyde had a plan. When he castled, protecting his king in a corner, the Devil understood this time he was the sucker. The game was a draw, playing out one day at a time. That was over 50 years ago, and Clyde is still going strong. And yes, the Devil is bored.

Looking Back
by Jeffrey Fischer

For eons, Elvis found the afterlife fascinating, but even infinite variety dulls eventually. He decided to find out how he was remembered on Earth. Michael Jackson begged him not to look, but the King could never think of Michael as anything but the kid singer in the Jackson 5.

On the whole, Elvis was happy how things turned out: millions of record sales, Graceland was a shrine to his legacy, and even the imitators in rhinestone-studded jumpsuits were somehow endearing.

But… peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Who in his right mind would think Elvis actually liked that crap? Only Yankees, who thought a Southern boy, no matter how rich, could have no decent palate. He slapped those ingredients together once, when he nothing better in the house. Only a quart of whiskey made the sticky mess go down.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: The wise king

There was once a wise king.

His wisdom and fairness was famed throughout the kingdom and people would come from far and wide seeking his guidance on disputes of every kind. The king’s days were long, but the people prospered.

It came to pass that two women came to the court, bringing with them a baby. Both claimed the child was theirs and neither would relent, and so it fell to the king to adjudicate.

Sighing, the king called for his sword and, as the onlookers gasped in horror, fell upon it and died.

He just couldn’t take the pressure.

#2 – King Size

I don’t like to complain about old-fashioned measurements, but there’s a lot to be said for standardisation.

Whilst you lucky folks in the rest of the world get to stuff yourselves to the point of bursting on your king size burger, fries, and enormous sodas, I barely have enough to sate my hunger.

You lounge away the nights in your king size beds, whilst I freeze in a bed that’s simply not big enough.

In fact, everything described as ‘king size’ around these parts is tiny in comparison.

That’s the problem when your king is a twelve-inch ruler!

TOM

King For A Day

Timmy wasn’t the sharpest tools in the shed. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he entered the King for a Day Contest. “What the heck,” he said. Winning hands down the good subjects of Licktenrubal looked forward to the day after King Timmy’s rein, preparing for a good laugh at his expense. Oddly on coronation day Timmy was nowhere to be found. Soldiers, sheriffs, and the greater number of Lintenrubians scoured the countryside searching for Timmy. Tired and dejected they returned to the castle to find the Royal Treasury looted. Seems Timmy wasn’t as dim as he seemed.

The Day I Didn’t Meet the King

It does not take much raw material for the fates to weave the smallest of lives into the backdrop of history. A Jesuit father ends up in New France in the 1600s. He rows his canoe through the swap that will become the future site of the 2nd city. The civil leaders of the city name a park in his honor. Since the name of the park is the same as my family’s name we would often picnic there. In Aug 1966 the Rev King marched through the park as I watched the hate rise. He looked pretty damn scared

In Plain Sight
For those who are fond of riddles I have the following. A man who was born a king but never abdicated a crown to become President of the United States. Sounds pretty Da Vinci Code: a Pope interred. All whimmly wobbly, which is one hint to his identity. He sat in judgement on a bullet which defied the laws of physics. Here’s a second: He weathered the attack of two assassins. But not that of his political rival, which is your third. When you’ve secured his name please post it to the comment area. You are a king among men

SERENDIPITY

Once a king, always a king, they say – but not if I have anything to do with it.

You may be a big shot in your country: Prime minister, president, dictator, prince or queen – to me, you’re just another day’s work.

I don’t care who you are, or how important you may be, as long as I’m paid the going rate, you’re a target, and I will bring you down to size using whatever means I have.

Poison, bullet, blade or bludgeon – your status won’t help.

You’ll die.

And I’ll live…

Once an assassin, always an assassin!

MARV

The King Is Dead

The King is dead, long live the King!

The Chamberlin made the official royal announcement in a loud and clear voice to members of the royal court of the pasting of long reigning King John Quincy Marcus IV and of Prince Charles becoming King Charles William David VIII.

As he ascended to the throne, King Charles became acknowledged absolute ruler of 20 million subjects in the tiny county of Lilliput.

What a week it has been for now King Charles, beginning on Monday he went to his first day of kindergarten and then, only three days later, He’s the King.

LIZZIE

The kids made fun of Bernie whenever he said “I’m a King.”
What he meant was he belonged to the old local King family, although he wasn’t called “King”.
Bernie was, however, proud of his heritage and no one would convince him otherwise.
Fresh out of College, a distant cousin called Harold King introduced him to the right people.
When Bernie came back for his high-school reunion, the kids sure didn’t make fun of him when he said “I’m a king!”
He had married into a European royal family and had become king, only in title, but still a king.

MORVAL JOE

Monkey Boy rounded the penguin pool, shot past the tiger pen, hurried out the service gate and onto the main boulevard through the east side of his city. Two thoughts raced through his head as he dodged pedestrians and ginkgo trees spaced every twenty feet in the sidewalk: What did Pole Cat and her crew want from him, and how long would it take for them to catch up with him?
He ducked through the back door of the Chicken King restaurant and slipped into the storage room.
A woman turned around and shouted, “Mickey. You’re late for your shift.”

PLANET Z

You probably know about Queen Latifah, the soul singer and actress, but was there ever a King Latifah?
Yes. Yes, there was.
But as with Latifahs, the queen bites the king’s head off after mating.
No, Queen Latifah doesn’t have any kids. Sadly, the mating was unsuccessful.
And even if she did have kids, she’d just have eaten them, right?
Except for one, who she’d raise as her princess.
Only upon her death would the princess be allowed to consume the royal jelly necessary to transform her into the next Queen.
But, let’s face it: She’d probably get eaten first.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

MUNSI

Your Guide
By Christopher Munroe

Let your conscience be your guide…

Unless you’re in a foreign country in which case, I can’t stress this enough, hire an actual guide.

Guides know the local spots you’d want to see, the best destinations, best restaurants, wherever you go guides can help you get the most out of your trip.

Plus, they’ll keep you from getting lost. And, if you’ve travelled somewhere where you don’t speak the language, that’s not inconsiderable.

So hire a guide and don’t skimp on the price. The expense is worth it.

And when it comes to tipping: Let your conscience be your guide…

JEFFREY

Human Kindness
by Jeffrey Fischer

I watched the blind man use his cane to tap his way along the subway platform. He had trouble finding the escalator, so two young men helped guide him to the right spot. I followed the trio as they made their way into the station. The men helped their new friend through the station and into the bus depot.

I entered the depot just in time to hear the blind man thank the men and ask to be pointed toward the ticket counter. My colleagues moved in closely, screening the blind man from any prying eyes, while I robbed the man of his wallet and cell phone.

It’s so great helping the blind: you’re confident that the police won’t have a description of the robbers.

The Great American Novel
by Jeffrey Fischer

John had quit his job to write the Great American Novel that he knew lived inside him. He laid out a dozen sharpened pencils, unpacked a ream of paper, and was ready to start. He guided a sheet of paper into his Selectric – no word processor for him, only classic technology! – and sat until inspiration struck.

Three hours later, he reviewed his work: a handful of incoherent nouns and verbs, sometimes both in the same sentence, with the occasional random adjective. Word count: 100. He concluded that perhaps the novel was not his metier. He would instead write the Great American Drabble.

RICHARD

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Richard ‘
AttachmentsMar 8 (5 days ago)

to me
Hi Laurence,

Here we go again, another week, another story – still, looking on the bright side, that’s one less to do before the ultimate… erm, never mind.

Topic – ‘Ultimate’

Catch up with you at the weekend.

Regards,
Richard

The Gospel According to Norman: The Law and Love

You have heard it said The Law is your guide: Those who turn their back on the Law are cursed, but I tell you there is a better way.

The Law is good, but the enlightened should let love be their guide.

For who can doubt that whatever is pursued in love is good and blessed?

So, I tell you, follow love’s guidance and you’ll prosper… Whether love for your wife, your concubine, money and riches, or love for your neighbour’s ass – pursue it with all your heart, and all your might, no matter what the Law may say!

TOM

Paradiso

Timmy assembled his vision quest flight crew. A ceremonial magician, a Mayan shaman, and the personal secretary to the Dali Lama. His UCLA organic chemistry professor had brewed up a batch of peyote infused LSD. On Day Three his spirit guide appeared. A 12 foot crimson dragonfly named Bruce. “What do you seek?” hissed the dragon. “The edge of the vail.” Bruce’s wings rent the vail to reveal the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. “What is your name?” She drew her sword across the sand and wrote “Beatrice” “OH shit,” said Timmy and follow her into the mist.

One Less Dick

Morty hated each and every corporate retreat. Most of all he detested the trust building exercises. He squirted lighter fluid during the fire walk. Drop his partner in the backward pitch. When given the r/d encryption key he traded it for half a pack of cigarettes. He calculated his odds of being voted off the island as excellent. But the vote didn’t turn out as planned. Blind folded and cuffed Loraine of accounting guided him to the grassy knolled. The sting of the first scorpion trigger panic. Guide by the warmth of the sun he ran. Right off the cliff.

We Who Stand and Bark Also Serve
Barney was a guide dog. He was pretty good guide dog, but not particularly lucky guide dog. He was currently on his 12th owner. People just had a habit of dying on the poor dog. Wasn’t his fault. Cancer, MS, earthquakes, head on collisions. Who drowns during a hotel fire? How on earth can a scuba driver get impaled on redwoods in a Nation Forest? Then finally his luck changed. Little Judy Hunter was healthy, never left the yard and she feed him these amazing sweet brown candies. They buried Barney with the 49 Hershey wrappers. It seemed only fitting.

AUBREY

Creative writing is sort of like hiking a mountain without a guide. You will most likely meander off the beaten path, get lost along the way and they might have to call a search party.

If you’re lucky? You make it to the summit and those things only happen once or twice.

If you’re not? You’ll run into a lot of wannabe guides that think they know the right way to hike a mountain, even though they don’t own a pair of hiking shoes and they have never gotten close to a summit before.

Don’t listen to them. Keep hiking.

SERENDIPITY

We got sent on one of those team building courses to try and get us to gel. I had serious doubts that it would work.

Even so, I played along as we took part in various ridiculous exercises through the day.

After building rafts, orienteering and struggling through obstacle courses, I was fed up, so when they announced a game to ‘build trust’, I decided enough was enough.
I was expected to guide my blindfolded partner through a long forest path.

Which served to bring the day to an abrupt halt, when I guided him straight over a cliff edge!

LIZZIE

“We better throw it in the garbage,” complained Tim infuriated.
“I’ll fix it,” said Paul.
“We’ve been here for ages, Paul.”
Paul rolled his eyes and continued to work.
“Forget about it, I tell you.”
“I will fix it.”
This continued for a few hours, Paul getting more and more aggravated.
Suddenly, the thing started purring.
“See,” said Paul triumphantly.
“But it’s making an odd noise…”
Paul closed his eyes for a second, gave the thing a swift jerk and swung it at Tim.
What a shame, he hadn’t followed Tim’s words and thrown the damn saw in the garbage.

MARV

The Art of the Guide

The professor began the class by donning his white apron along with the tall chef’s hat, he then spoke.
“Today’s session more of a guide rather than a ridged rule in the art of poaching and sautéing” he began, “who can give me examples of when you sauté, as to when you want to poach?”
Hannibal, raised his hand, “I believe you’d want sauté the sweet meats of the brain in butter with a hint of garlic as compared to lightly poaching the eye balls and serving in a red sauce, Professor.”
“Excellent example Mr. Lector, excellent”, the professor beamed.

NORVAL JOE

Apparently, shocked by his sudden attack, Polecat stood frozen as Monkey Boy used her head for leverage and lept over her, dashing toward the Primate area of the zoo.
Knowing the zoo’s layout by heart, having worked the whole summer as a guide, he slipped behind the orangutan exhibit and skidded to a stop at the howler monkeys.
“Count to twenty and then let loose with all you’ve got,” he whispered before doubling back.
A half-minute later all hell broke loose in the monkey cages with hoots, howls, and screams.
He watched, hiding, as Polecat’s crew ran toward the diversion.

TURA

Guide, or, The Rectification of Names
———
The people complained against the strictness of the Laws. General Wei said, “In a well-ordered state, those above guide and those below follow.”

He replaced the Laws by Guidelines, and decreed that each citizen rightly apply them to circumstances. The Magistrates were reappointed as Inspectors, instead of trials they held inspections, and instead of punishments they made recommendations, enforced by their officers.

Henceforth, when a thief was hanged for a sack of rice, the people no longer said, “See the injustice of the law!”, but “See the injustice of this criminal!”

Thus by the rectification of names was order restored.

PLANET Z

Billy’s high school girlfriend volunteered as a tour guide to the local art museum.
Then, she dumped him. And started dating another voulteer tour guide.
Billy swore he’d have his revenge.
So, he spent all his time in the basement, working on a robotic tour guide.
The art museum would use the robot, and get rid of volunteers.
And after weeks of tinkering with gyroscoping balancing and interactive voice prompts, he made the robot.
It worked brilliantly. The art museum got rid of their volunteers.
Which gave his girlfriend and her boyfriend lots of free time.
To screw around more.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

CHARLIE

He held off giving Poopsie the ring. She kicked him square in the cullions for looking at another woman; asking her if he could capture the playful quality of her buttocks with his iCam. Poopsie was tough. She had a Kevlar insert in her panties. Days, she drank and watched TV, but at night, she was a cage fighter in the city. Her personality was a cross between Ronda Rousey and Golda Meir. If she was approached at the bar, she flicked a quarter into the guy’s eye and said “Why don’t you go grab yourself an ice cream, Scooter.”

#2

Lennie was finally admitted to The Ring of The Grand Vizier. Those that did not adopt the tenets of the The Ring were whipped, tortured, teased, robbed, killed, then raped. Lennie had hoped that being a member would finally get him the respect and admiration he strove for as an unpopular clerk in a large, national corporation. He wheedled and cajoled his way into the inner circle of management, and at a company party he accidentally walked in on an ad hoc meeting of The Ring. Rather than kill him on the spot, The Ring invited him into the group.

#3

The story he told to the Psychiatrist didn’t ring true. He complained that the ringing in his ears was the cause for the outbreak of violence at the Walmart store. He threw heavy objects, started fires in the lingerie section, and took off his clothes. A ring of police gathered at the exits, as a tact squad entered and drove him out. Erik was fast and powerful. He leaped from the tops of the display cases, as he evaded the police. Four officers were injured when hit with appliances, but a well-placed rubber bullet to the groin took him down.

MUNSI

On Affection, and Also on Jewelry
By Christopher Munroe

If you liked it, you should put a ring on it.

If you don’t like it, no ring.

It’s fairly simple, if you think about it it’s almost unreasonably simplistic, but it DOES make for a good rule of thumb as far as who or what is liked.

A person with a ring is liked, by at least the person with whom that ring was exchanged.

Trees? People like’em big and bigger ones have more rings.

Saturn? Well everyone likes Saturn!

I like my bathtub…

Wait…

No, I’m going to have to go back to the lab and rethink this…

JEFFREY

The Ring
by Jeffrey Fischer

I remember buying the ring, paying a small fortune for a flawless diamond on the off-chance that she’d see the flaws in a cheaper stone. I remember how nervous I was when I asked her to marry me. When the time came to flip open the box, I snagged the ring and sent it flying across the room. Fortunately, she said yes before I started hunting for it.

Now I gently removed the ring from her lifeless finger just before the undertaker closed the casket. We agreed she would be buried with her wedding ring, but I wanted to keep the diamond. After all, didn’t I just say I paid a fortune for it? I’m sure not going buy another one for my girlfriend.

Ring Around the Bathtub
by Jeffrey Fischer

I stared at the bathtub. Ring around the drain! Remember those ads for Wisk detergent, promising to rid you of “ring around the collar”? Same problem, just on porcelain. I tried a Magic Eraser, I used Comet, I scrubbed and scrubbed, but nothing worked. That damn ring mocked me.

Fine. Just fine. Time to break out the heavy weapon: industrial-strength hydrochloric acid. I gave it a little time to soak in, used a heavy cloth to rub it off, and the stain came right out. Success! I vowed that would be the last time I cut up a body in my own bathtub. Next time, I’ll use the neighbor’s. After all, he wouldn’t be needing it any longer.

RICHARD

#1 – One Ring

Unbelievably, the hobbit’s ploy worked!

Distracted by the gold scattered amongst the undergrowth, the dragon halted its chase, and Boggins crawled away unnoticed.

Of his companions, there was no sign, and he was forced to conclude that they’d left him for dead.

With night drawing in, he found a small cave to hide in and cowered in the darkness, lamenting his loss…

No friends, no hope, and – thanks to the dragon – no gold either.

Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he was surprised to touch metal – all that was left of his treasure: a single gold ring.

#2 – Stella

It had been a thoroughly enjoyable business lunch. Right from the moment Stella was introduced to me, we hit it off big-time.

Not only was she Metrotronics’ best sales manager, she was witty, intelligent and drop dead gorgeous.

Business took a back seat as we flirted madly all evening. Then, as she was leaving, she slipped me a napkin upon which she’d written her number and the words, ‘Ring me’.

When I called, I was in for a hell of a shock: She threatened to nail me for sexual harassment unless I signed the deal!

I signed, of course.

#3 – Romantic Gesture

I wanted something special to celebrate our marriage, so I watched a YouTube instructional for making a ring from a coin.

It wasn’t straightforward – I no workshop tools, so I had to buy them.

I also needed somewhere secret to work, so I rented a workshop.

I went through a few coins too – dozens really. Eventually the exercise had cost me more than buying a ring straight out!

However the glow of pride I felt when I presented my fiancee with my efforts was completely ruined by her response.

“Cheapskate! You couldn’t even buy me a proper ring!”

#4 – Alien

The old guy’s story was implausible, but it did have the ring of truth to it.

He certainly had the military background, and the details we’d been able to research checked out.

It was the crazy stuff that was harder to believe: I’ve heard some hair-brained Area 51 stories, but this was nuts.

Experiments to develop hybrid alien world leaders? Alien DNA infiltrating the corridors of power? An out of control alien intelligence disguised as human, poised for world domination?

Too crazy to be true, yet the evidence was there – an out of control alien, masquerading as human: Trump!

#5 – Dream Job

My first job was almost a dream come true: International travel to destinations most people haven’t even heard of, excitement, adventure and the thrill of never knowing where each day might take you.

My colleagues were an eclectic and interesting bunch of every nationality, and although many were extremely demanding and didn’t suffer fools gladly, they were – without exception – experts in their field, highly motivated and successful individuals.

Then there was the knowledge that you really were making a difference in people’s lives – such a great feeling.

Best job I’ve ever had… Working for the drugs ring.

AUBREY

After a few weeks of busy-ness I’m back. Here’s my story for this week:

We live in an age where everyone is expected to be available at the drop of a hat, but I try not to take that for granted.

I mean, I get it. I do. We’re self absorbed beings that care more about Candy Crush than the person across the table from us. Sometimes, at least.

But thirty years ago, my mom lived thousands of miles from her family, it took several steps and a couple weeks to send a picture of her newborn baby.

Now, the phone rings and she can instantly see her granddaughter, thanks to that soul-sucking technology.

SERENDIPITY

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

Just let it ring.

Do not pick up; or do you?

It’s the ultimate catch 22 dilemma…

Your rescuers have your number – they’re making the call. All you have to do is pick up, answer and tell them where you are. Simple.

But, if you pick up the phone, the explosive charge will be triggered and the whole room – with you inside – becomes a raging fireball.

And if you do nothing?

Nothing happens… Nobody will find you, no food, no water, no hope.

So, what’s it going to be?

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.

LIZZIE

Silver with a red stone, thought Marcus. She liked red.

The shopkeeper was extremely friendly, however none of the rings appealed to Marcus. He wanted something different.

“Well,” said the man. “I have one here that is very special. It’ll make her young and beautiful forever. But it comes with a special price too.”

“What’s the price? I’ll pay.”

When he left the store, five of his fingers and an ear were gone.

He should’ve noticed those small jars on the shelf behind the counter. It turned out the man was a collector of body art, as he put it.

PLANET XRAY

The Ring of Pluto

The ring around Pluto is hardly noticeable, which is the way the Empire’s Zoological Commission wants it. Originally the ring acted as a bright beacon to travelers that this was an open system to all commerce and travelers, ripe for exploitation. But after several thousands of years of being this way, the Empire closed it down when a group of engineers started to experiment on and raised the intelligence level of the native inhabitants of the third planet in the system.
Now, only occasional sightseeing tours are allowed to visit the planet and then only with a Commission representative onboard.

TOM

Ring One

The jeweler was amazed. “Silver rings just don’t last that long.” “Must have been held together by love.” We purchased Gail’s moon stone engagement ring from Willow when all our hair was a different color. Gail never cared much for diamonds, though I would have gladly laid down the cash for one. She said she wanted a stone the glow warmth and not a cold rock of ice. So we had new ring cast in gold. A dozen interlock bird in a proper Celtic pattern. The silver ring went into the cherry wood box alongside my grandmother and grandfather rings

RingU

I don’t normally go in for horror film, but the Japanese film Ringu somehow got under my radar. It was pretty damn creepy. And just when you thought you had it all figured out, wrong. I was so impressed by the film that I googled the author Koji Suzuki. On his web site you could preorder the American translation through Vertical, Inc. I was the first American to read the book and first to write a review. The book was way scary then the film. Had nightmare for month. Gave the book to my friend, he had nightmares for a month.

Rhine Gold
Everyone has heard parts of it, few have the endurance to make it through the whole cycle. Richard Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen is long, realllllly long. And it’s in German. I don’t speak German. So it came as a surprise that the video of the New York Met’s Spartan stage production in the 90’s was so mesmerizing. I sat glue to the screen as Brünnhilde is slowly surround by the Magic Fire. The last time the SF opera did the ring I was teaching a full load. The next time I will be a man of cum dignitate otium.

NORVAL JOE

Monkey Boy crouched, ready to spring as his enemy circled around him.
The power of the monkey paw was one thing, and he wouldn’t hesitate to use it if there were only a few. There were a few too many and they moved in to form tightly around him.
“Pole Cat,” he shouted. “I know you’re out there. I can smell you a mile away.”
The ring broke open to admit the girl; petite, attractive and odoriferous.
“You’d never hurt a girl,” she laughed.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” he said, raising a paw, but then suddenly leaped forward.

TURA

Ring
———
Welcome to Phone, the phone you’ve always wanted!

It’s designed as a heavy table ornament, so you never have to awkwardly fish it out of your pocket. It literally rings with a mechanical bell, not a feeble, tinny beep. Its innovative user interface does away with fiddly touchscreens and buttons, replacing them with a single mechanical dial, easily used by the fattest of fingers. Use its companion apps, Notepad and Pen, to record your contacts’ details, and never have to worry about accidentally losing them. Best of all, you can leave it at home, and avoid distractions through the day!
———

PLANET Z

The last time I lost weight, I lost so much, my ring slipped off and I lost it.
I got a new ring. And it fit fine.
Until I gained all the weight back. And more.
Now my ring was too tight. But because it’s gold, it’s soft enough to gradually stretch.
But not enough.
So, I lost weight again. And it got loose again.
This time, I had it adjusted.
So, it fit just fine.
Until I gained the weight back.
Now I wear the ring on a chain around my neck.
And eat whatever the hell I want.