Weekly Challenge #514 – Leap

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 and Me

MUNSI

February 29th

By Christopher Munroe

Every four year there’s an extra day in February.

As I’ve no doubt you knew without me pointing it out.

What you may not know is that, when that bonus day comes, I spend it in a church.

This might come as a surprise to those of you know me, as if I’m not atheist as such, my agnosticism with regard to a supreme being leans heavily in that direction, but there it is, in spite of all you might have thought…

For one day every four years, I have religion, because I’m willing to take a leap… of faith.

CHARLIE

A few weeks ago L.E.A.P., or The Low Energy Assistance Program, opened their doors, and have since attracted dozens of new clients in town. They offer shots, pills, tonics, electrotherapy, a special diet, and a ratio of 1 trainer/guide for each two members. Some of the medications used are on lists that mention cautionary use, and other items dispensed are kept as private interactions between the LEAP attendants and the program’s clients. Ass hide glue pellets, bi hu (house lizard), and stinkbug (kiu xiang chong) have been used, but contraindications have surfaced and these are being withheld until further study.

#2

The Lower Extremity Aerobic Program (LEAP) just began last week at our local Y W C A. Aerobic programs such as this concentrate on the lower extremities as the primary motive force in building heart strength and lung capacity. No muscles below the thigh are used during the rigid course of repetitions and the challenging positioning of the lower limbs, and joints. The ankles and toes are the point of focus for the day’s exercises. The last two, outside phalanges on each foot must be removed prior to training. Special shoes are also required, but are available at cost from LEAP’s in-house commissary.

#3

Tomorrow is Leap Day, in case you’ve forgotten. It is customary that women propose on Leap Day. A man is expected to get circumcised or re-circumcised if he refuses a marriage proposal on Leap Day. Four years ago, my friend, Tim, refused a surprise proposal from his Irish girlfriend, Heather. At thirty-two, he was kidnapped and taken to a Rabbi in Philadelphia where he was circumcised for the second time by an old Rabbi with palsy. He could never play the trumpet after that time, and to this day, when Leap Year comes around, he cowers in his room, shaking.

JEFFREY
Fractal Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ludwig Mandelbrot was the foremost scholar of time. Using ever-more precise measurements, he calibrated the passing of a second to sub-atomic precision. When a gravity wave passed over the Earth, he made subtle adjustments to ensure that a second took exactly a second to pass, no more, no less.

Similarly, he calculated each orbit of the Sun to an exact degree. Not content with adding a leap day every four years or so, or even adjusting for leap seconds now and then, he added and subtracted milliseconds, then nanoseconds, then picoseconds with wild abandon. Eventually he confused himself as to what day it was.

Or at least that was his excuse to the IRS as to why his tax return was late.

Look Before You Leap
by Jeffrey Fischer

His mother always told him to look before he leapt. Although this seemed like good advice at the time, he wondered if it was universally applicable. Were there occasions where looking ahead of time was likely to be a bad idea? He considered the question the next time he needed to clear a large puddle on the curb. Looking was clearly a good idea. He considered the question again when he dove with Acapulco cliff divers – nope, looking was necessary.

At long last, he thought he found the ideal time to ignore his mother’s advice: when hurtling one’s self off a tall building in order to commit suicide. That was a freaking long way down! He turned around and meekly made his way to the ground the slow way, via the elevator.

RICHARD

#1 – Captain’s Log

I gave the command, and we made the leap into hyperspace – the stars froze, becoming streaks on the viewport, then the strange, inside-out feeling as the ship almost immediately began to decelerate.

Suddenly the ship was rocked violently, throwing us across the bridge.

“Captain, we’re under attack!”

I gave the order to return fire, but this would be no picnic – enemy lasers shone out in the darkness, and the ship was taking heavy fire.

Right in the midst of battle, I heard a shouted command: “Supper’s ready!”

I paused the game – victory could wait until bedtime.

#2 – Jonesey – The Leap Year Kid

We always laughed at Jimmy Jones – the Leap Year Kid – having the misfortune to be born on February, twenty-ninth led to endless ribbing.

“Hey Jonesey, ya big three year old! Get back to nursery school”, we’d tease; “Isn’t it time for your afternoon nap?”

I can’t say he took it particularly well, especially since we carried on the mockery into adulthood: “Sorry Jonesey, this is a man’s bar – why doncha go play in the ball pit?”

Of course, he had the last laugh.

Now in my seventies, I swear he doesn’t look a day over eighteen!

TOM

Power of One’s Conviction

He was a man who always embraced the conventional wisdom. Not one to
wander too far from the tried and true. Cautious, Calculating,
Conservative in action. The rock others depended to be immutable in a
capricious universe. But here he stood squarely between the horns of a
dilemma. Clearly the rational choice while practical and profitable lacked
a depth of satisfaction. In counterpoint the irrational choice while
incredibility satisfying was an indictment of everything he held dear. In
the end he chose a leap of faith, and for better or for worst became a
quite different man. He chose love.

With Out Grace

In the category of leaps the standing broad jump seems at first glance a
candidate for oxymoronic land, but if one were to closely examine the need
to leap, there is not much of an opportunity to tap into stored kinetic
energy. Oddly enough to be successful at this event both length and
compression is needed. On the line you get as tightly packed as possible,
arms, legs, chest. Then drive upward to full extension. You don’t stop
there. You pull your knees to your chest, fly forward like a cannonball.
The landing is rough, but you’re guaranteed to place.

1461 to 1

Benny was old for his age. He was 14 going on 56. It wasn’t because he was
young of heart or hyper extended adolescence. He was born on Feb 29, a
leap year baby. Each year on the 28th and 1st his family would throw these
two day unbirthday parties. Double the presents, double the ice cream,
cake and clowns. As an adult he continued the practice to legendary highs.
One year he rented the whole god damn Ringling Brothers Circus. Another
one aboard the Titanic II. For his 15th birthday there are plans to book
the International Space Station

SERENDIPITY

Life, you said, was passing you by – you wanted something more fulfilling, less of the routine, more excitement.

“You’ve got to learn to live a little”, I said, “have fun, try new things, take the occasional risk.”

Even so, I was pretty surprised when you took my suggestion seriously, although when it came to the crunch, you were starting to get cold feet.

“Look, I said – bungee jumping is perfectly safe – consider it a leap of faith.”

You jumped.

And, six and half seconds later, you hit the ground.

Maybe I should have tied the knot tighter?

MICHAEL WEBB

The red leather toe of her shoe made tiny figures in the air between her and I.

“Want to know something?,” she said. “I’m really only seven. I was born on Leap Year Day.”

I looked at her black hair as she sipped. The evening felt inevitable, like a movie I’ve seen already.

“Is that so?,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, and her toe stopped. “Have you ever slept with a seven year old girl?”

It feels like that sometimes, I thought.

“Never,” I said.

She stood up, her dress the shimmering blue promise of tomorrow’s rain.

“Let’s,” she said.

LIZZIE

“Just leave that. We can’t take anything.”

The two ran outside to join the mass of people hurrying down the street.
The military crammed as many as they could in their vehicles before speeding away.
“Hop in,” he said, dragging her towards one of the trucks.
She shook her head.
“We are going to die if we stay.”
She pulled her sleeve up, and a blue light popped up.
“I am like them.”
He was speechless. Then he stretched out his arm. “To be with you.”
She injected him.
They never looked like humans again, but they were still together.

NORVAL JOE

Adages for a happy life.

Never chew off more than you can bite. The mouth was created, or evolved to be, the appropriate size for efficient consumption. Consume food, and life’s challenges, in reasonably sized pieces.

Don’t walk faster than you can run. It’s got to do with body mechanics and efficiency. You’ll go a lot farther, in the long run, if you just walk at a reasonable pace.

Never look before you leap. What are you going to see, anyway? Crocodiles? The distance is too far?

You’ll never accomplish much if you let fear, or death, hold you back.

TURA

Leap

———

The planet Triselii orbits chaotically about three suns, spending a few orbits around one, then around the other binary pair. Not only do the years vary drastically in length, but also the days. Nevertheless, their astronomers have decreed a standard year and a standard day, to which are added leap months, leap days, and leap hours, so that midday always coincides with the closest sun being at its zenith, and the seasons fall at consistent times of the year.

So complex are the calculations, that they believe mathematics would never be developed on a planet orbiting a mere single sun.

PLANET Z

The salmon run along the Columbia River isn’t much of a run anymore.
Dams block the migration of salmon back up the river to their spawning
Engineers built spillways and fish ladders that allow the salmon to leap from pool to pool, until they rejoin the river on the upside of the dam.
Some rivers use siphon pumps and trap elevators instead of the spillways, but the goal is the same.
Whatever the technology, I prefer to use a net at the entry point.
Let’s collect up a few big ones and take them home for dinner.
Delicious Salmon!

Weekly Challenge #513 – Sand

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:

Tinnyversary

CHARLIE

Lennie’s first day on the job had him working in the basement of the courthouse. He kept hanging around the foreman’s office and he pestered the old guy. “Go pound sand down a rat hole!” Lennie got the message and went to the basement to start working. The basement was full of rats, and there was a large pile of sand in the corner. Lennie picked up a heavy wooden maul and started pounding sand into the big hole in the middle of the floor. Two yards of sand went into the rat hole until Lennie was exhausted, but determined.

#2

The passage of time is analogous to the flow of the sand in an hourglass. Once the hourglass is inverted, the sand does not stop for anyone or anything. Also, the time that we have to live decreases continuously, just as the sand in the top of the hourglass does. My lady friend has been told that she has an hourglass figure, although the sand has moved quickly and unforgivingly to the bottom of the glass, with no chance that it can be reversed. Lennie, who I spoke of earlier, has reached his middle years, but as an inverted hourglass.

JEFFREY

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre
by Jeffrey Fischer

Every year was the same: I would rack my brain to think of a Valentine’s Day gift my wife would really enjoy – not just empty calories in a box of chocolates, or overpriced flowers that would be gone inside a week. Every year she would open the package, look at what I bought, look at me, and tell me to try again next year. I realize now that the Calphalon pan, the Dyson vacuum cleaner, and the portable iron for traveling were all mistakes. I vowed that the dagger looks would be a thing of the past.

My problem in previous years was that I bought something I assumed she would like. This time, I thought hard about what I would like to get. That’s when inspiration struck. I jumped in the car to pick out the perfect present.

How was I supposed to know that women don’t think a belt sander is particularly romantic?

Graduation
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ralph had an IQ north of 140 and scores of 800 on both his Math and English SATs, yet here he was, in summer school when the rest of his friends had already graduated. Ralph’s problem: a failing grade in Shop. If he didn’t pass this summer course, he wouldn’t be starting college in the fall.

His problem the last time had been his work-working project. His chess board had so many rough surfaces that the Shop teacher had to see the school nurse for his multiple splinters. Ralph knew he wouldn’t repeat this mistake.

The teacher looked puzzled at the object Ralph placed in his hands. The unknown piece was smooth, all right, but wafer-thin. Ralph explained, “It’s a three-dimensional representation of a two-dimensional surface.”

Ralph passed, but his report card made it clear that the only reason was that Mr. Richter didn’t want to see him again.

RICHARD

The Gospel According to Norman: The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders

There were two men who wished to build themselves new homes.

One chose the cheap option, building his house upon the sand. The sea view was to die for, but those in the know shook their heads scornfully.

The other man chose to build on a solid foundation far inland. The cost was ruinous, but he considered it worthwhile.

Then a huge storm came and blew down the house built on sand.

But the first man was wise, and well insured: He made more on the payout than the house had cost, and laughed all the way to the bank!

LIZZIE

The beach was deserted.
They sat close together and held hands.
It was done.
“The casket is lovely, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He agreed.
The incoming tide threatened to reach them.
He looked at his hand. He could still feel the stickiness.
“I can’t believe my husband is gone. Aren’t you happy?”
He looked at the horizon. He wasn’t that sure anymore.
“Do you love me?” she purred.
Eventually, he’d have to spend money on a second casket; already he could see that coming.
Resenting her clinginess, he vowed never to celebrate Valentine’s Day again. It was too damn expensive.

SERENDIPITY

We had a lovely day at the beach – the sun shone, without a cloud in the sky.

I can’t remember the last time I had such fun! We strolled along the promenade, played the penny arcades and feasted on fish and chips, as seagulls entertained us on the seafront.

With the day drawing to a close, we rested on the beach, watching the waves.

Ignoring my partner’s screams, I relaxed in the fading sunlight. Buried to his neck in sand, it was only a matter of time before the advancing tide would silence his protests.

Such a lovely day!

MUNSI

A Love Note

By Christopher Munroe

I don’t like sand.

It’s coarse, and it’s rough and it’s irritating, and it gets everywhere.

Not like here, here everything’s soft, and smooth.

And it’s just like the ocean, under the moon.

That’s the same as the emotion that I get from you.

You’ve got the kind of loving that can be so smooth, yeah.

Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it…

And so you see, Padme, while I do hate sand, you’re not like sand, and so I do love you.

Because, rather than being anything like sand, you are my sweet Sand-tana…

TOM

Sand Man
Mother tucked Timmy into bed. “Sand Man’s coming Time to go to sleep,” she
sang and turned out the light. All night long Timmy saw faces in the dark.
Some grinned like Jack O Lanterns. Others like the distorted drawing in
the family bible. Every time Timmy slipped off he heard a wind whip sand
against the window of his room and his eyes popped open. The next morning
a bedraggled Timmy stumbled downstairs to breakfast. The house was empty.
No mom, no dad, no little sister. It was so quiet, just the sound of sand
tapping at the windows.

Cheap Thrills

One of my favorite memories of growing up in the Midwest was digging
school and going to the dunes. If it was Monday it was Indiana Dunes. If
it was Friday it was Michigan Dunes, which was the cooler of the two.
Major sand in Holland, Michigan. Loop a rope through a big old piece of
cardboard, jump off the top, and scream down the side of the dunes like a
toboggan run. Well, that was the idea, but rarely execute. Half way down
you would flip and slid head first into the sand. Damn good fun that was.

Sandy

“Mom why did you name be Sandy?” Mary Margret Sullivan smiled and remember
the Our Lady of Grace’s Retreat in Santa Cruz. The night she and Chasity
O’Toole snuck down to the beach and spent the night drinking beer with a
bunch of Austrian surfers. Both of them didn’t get on the bus back to Ohio
and end up at Berkeley. George was such a gentleman, but not the dad. She
knew she would tell her daughter about that night, but not tonight. “Want
to go to the beach tomorrow?” asked mom. “Can Mary O’Toole come with?”
“Sure Honey.”

TURA
Sand
———

I once had to get away for a bit— never mind why. This friend puts me onto a mate of his, runs a bar in Spain. I gets across the Channel on a freighter, hitchhike through France and into Spain. I’ve only got handwritten directions, but anyway, long story short, I walk into the place about eight in the evening. The locals all go silent and watch. I say “Coffee”, just like that, same word everywhere. I get this thimbleful of black stuff. It tasted like sand.

And that was my first experience of REAL coffee. Haven’t had instant since.

NORVAL JOE

A wise man built his house upon a rock and when the winds blew and the rains fell the building weathered the storm and remained in tact. He laughed at another man who he deemed foolish for building his house upon the sand.

The other man replied, “I plant my taters in sandy land.”

The wise man agreed, “Then, perhaps that isn’t so foolish.”

The second man’s house endured unexpected rains and winds without being washed away, but all the local cats dug in the sand to bury their waist. Though he had many potatoes, they smelled like cat crap.

PLANET Z

One day, you’re here.
The next, you’re gone.
And someone takes your place. My place. Our place.
You don’t own anything. It owns you, for a little while.
Until it finds someone else to have it.
And the person after them.
What is now? Now is the next yesterday.
Just a series of the next yesterdays.
There is no tomorrow. It’s just a now that hasn’t happened yet.
A yesterday that’s already come and gone.
You? Me?
We only write our names in sand.
The next wave comes, and wipes us clean.
The waves never end.
Wiping everything clean.

Weekly Challenge #512 – Love

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

LIZZIE

One good deed and Frank would move up to the next level.
When he arrived at the lake, he saw an alien fighting helplessly to stay afloat, sinking in the water every now and then.
Should he do something? Or just watch the tragedy unfold?
To think that he had made fun of the guy who got the #10… Helping ten old ladies cross the street seemed easy enough.
What should he do? Laura or revenge?
Half an hour later, Frank took off.
Laura would have to wait.
Next card.

JEFFREY

Love Hurts
by Jeffrey Fischer

They laughed at the same things, enjoyed candlelit dinners and long, romantic walks. They held hands and kissed. It was a whirlwind romance, but he knew she was The One. She said she felt the same way. He sensed hesitation in her voice. When pressed, she said she wasn’t sure she could leave her pet hamster to spend her life with him. He said he understood but hoped she would choose him. “Meet me at the Dallas airport at sunset this Saturday. I’ll be at the security line. If you’re not there… well, I’ll know your choice.”

He waited for more than two hours with no sign of her. Dejected, he left. Only then did it occur to him that perhaps he should have specified Dallas-Fort Worth, in case she flew to Love Field.

The Measure of Love
by Jeffrey Fischer

How do you know if you are loved? Love is not the giddy moments of romance, of infatuation, but something deeper, something meaningful. Love is not blaming him for failing to ask for directions and getting lost, making you two hours late to your best friend’s destination wedding. Love is holding him after he vomits away his excessive drinking at the reception after the wedding. Love is understanding, not blaming, when he gets some of the vomit on your $300 shoes you bought for the wedding. Those shoes are now ruined, and love also is not mentioning a second time that they cost $300. Well, a guy can hope, can’t he?

CHARLIE

Two, lovesick lovebirds, sitting on a loveseat, found themselves lovelocked due to the awkward and challenging position they took in their most loveable lovemaking during the lovefest. Local EMTs were called in to uncoil the pair, necessitating the use of the jaws of life and subsequent removal of the padded arms of the seat to extricate the portly pair from the furniture. The host threw a large blanket over them as they were being freed from the ghastly entanglement. The party goers were aghast, and the staff was shocked and sickened by what they witnessed. Smart phone images were traded.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: The Sermon on the Grassy Knoll

You have heard it said that you should love your neighbour as yourself, however I say to you, exercise extreme caution in loving your neighbour, especially if your neighbour’s husband is strong of build and quick to anger.

You have also heard it said you should love your enemy – this is pure foolishness and will lead to nothing good.

I tell you the truth, it is far better to find somebody inoffensive, unattached and without a truck load of emotional baggage to lavish your love upon, for that is the way of enlightenment, and a quiet and peaceful life.

#2 – If

“If you loved me, you would”

That was her stock phrase, it usually worked too. Maybe I was a pushover, but I knew what I was doing, so I played along.

She had it all: Parties, presents, holidays, while I quietly waited in the background for my moment.

Then she had the affair.

She came crawling back, tearful and repentant, begging for forgiveness… “If you loved me, you would”, she argued.

But I didn’t love her – I loved her money. So I divorced her, won the house, half her investments, a good chunk of her pension and the car.

#3 – Let her go

They do say, ‘If you really love her, let her go’, and, when it became obvious that my infatuation for her was never going to be reciprocated, I did the honourable and right thing.

I let her go.

Although, not before I’d secreted a GPS tracker in her car, hired a private detective to follow her 24/7 and set up remote cameras in every room of her house.

When you love someone that much, letting them go doesn’t mean you have to let go.

Sadly, justice – like love – is blind and the court didn’t see it my way.

TOM

1. Silly Little Love Song

Four guys once sang: All You Need Is Love. While romantically reasonable,
not so useful in the real world of commerce. Try paying a grocery bill
with that. Or your rent, gas, and electric. Or your credit card charges
for extra bubbles in Panda Pop. Kevlar over love sure could’ve helped
John. Advanced cancer serum versus love, bad choice George. Hey Paul I
think you need a more encompassing prenup. Wait a second, that last guy
sure looks happy. Despite fame and fortune, the fixation of a generation,
maybe he has found true …. Don’t believe it for a moment.

2. Gail

I’ve been in love with Gail for just inside 30 years. She is my best
friend, the person I want to be with. The first face I long to see, the
last when darkness falls. In a world of cross agendas Gail is one of the
few people who rises above the fray. Totally honest and deeply
compassionate. A power dry wit that fires with laser accuracy. A gifted
health provider who has literally saved dozens of lives. I’m honored to be
her partner and try as best as I can to bring, mirth, whimsy, and joy to
her life.

3. Just the Way I See It

To inflict minor mental anguish on my niece is a joy unparalleled. Case in
point while on long trips in a car all music most be categorized as one of
the following: Love Song or Lullaby. Not an easy thing to do with the
Dropkick Murphys, but doable. I once tried to make the argument for Whip
it by Devo under love song, but Zen was having none of that and countered
with: It’s just the type of Lullaby to sing after reading: Go the Fuck To
Sleep. Ok all of you try this! Star Spangled Banner: Love Song or
Lullaby?

SERENDIPITY

All you need is love, they say.

I disagree. What you really need is to be completely lacking in morals and integrity; to be utterly ruthless and completely without compassion.

If you can back that up with fanaticism, lethal firepower and an iron fist, then trust me, you’ll have the upper hand over mere love every time.

Ask any despotic tyrant to choose between love or brute force and I can tell you what their answer will be.

And the best thing of all… The harsher you treat them, the stronger and deeper the love your minions have for you.

TURA

Love, or,

A memory of my father, all that remains

———

My father’s first love was the violin. He could have made it his career, but with a family to support after the War, and no job security in the music profession, he went into school teaching. He came to hate the job, but lived by his choices.

He had character. Seriousness. Proficient at everything he did: music, golfing, fly fishing, supporting a family. An iron constitution too, until the smoking caught up with him.

He died at 74, and I still regret not having known him better. But all his generation are gone now, and only fragments of memory remain.

MUNSI

Romance

By Christopher Munroe

I hate them.

I hate them all.

These fucking people with their fucking love, celebrating as though it made them special.

It does not make them special, they are not special. Nobody is special, and nothing means anything.

But you can’t tell them that, because they must celebrate love.

“Ooooooh!” they say, “Surely my perfect love will protect me from the icy hand of death!”

Nothing will protect you from the icy hand of death.

And as I sit here, in my turtleneck and beret, smoking long, black cigarettes, I hold them in nothing but the most abject of contempt…

ZACKMANN

My friend who works for an ad firm got me into one of those “If you love it why don’t you marry it?” ads. Since I love Lefse, I was happy to do it. Until someone told the police I ate my wife. I didn’t actually marry the lefse. My current cellphone provider doesn’t have roaming outside of North America. My real life wife, who is in fact not lefse, is visiting family in Asia. If you can’t explain that to the judge at least keep me from being sentenced until the end of the month when she returns home.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle drove away from the Widow Finklestien’s house wondering how she could remember Long John, but not himself. How much time had he spent at her home in the last six months since the Dolly Cockles were born?

Certainly, he had lost confidence in himself, even stopped believing in himself, but should that have caused those who were close to him to forget him completely?

Bambi still remember him. Does that mean she likes him more than Widow Finklestien did?

He turned to the dog in the passenger seat. “You’ll always love me, won’t you, boy?”

Long John barked, “Yes.”

PLANET Z

On Valentine’s Day.
Back in grade school.
We’d bring in shoe boxes.
In art class, we’d decorate the shoe boxes.
With glitter, sparkles, and ribbons.
And make mailboxes for valentines.
Then, in homeroom, we’d put out the mailboxes.
And go from mailbox to mailbox.
Putting in our valentines.
No roses. No chocolates. No diamonds. No necklaces.
No fancy cards, either.
Just cheap store-bought, dollar-a-bag slips of paper.
With crappy art and words on them.
Today, I made a shoebox mailbox.
And left it out on my desk.
Five minutes later, my cat was it in.
Asleep.
Best valentine ever.

Weekly Challenge #511 – Stranger

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

NORVAL JOE

It’s been said that ,Fact is stranger than fiction.

For example…

There is a South America bat that lives in Andean caves that can neither see nor hear. It navigates by its acute sense of smell and actually lures its prey to it by imitating insect pheromones in the gas that it passes.

There is a six toed, brown, tree sloth that is so fat and moves so slowly that they have been captured and used as throw pillows without having to kill and skin them.

In retrospect, since I made up these examples, maybe fiction is stranger than fact.

TOM

There Will Be Hell to Pay

Nearly all hope way gone when the stranger road into the valley. Mary Ann
was the first to see him, and like wild fire that sighting ran through the
town. He didn’t say a word as he tied the pale horse to the front of the
dry goods store. He whisper in the ear of Old Ezra, who sent Young Ezra to
the backroom for the case of silver bullets. The stranger carefully loaded
seven colts and made his way to the sheriff’s office. Propped in a chair
outside the jail he waited for dusk. When darkness fell, they came.

MUNSI

The Doors

By Christopher Munroe

People are strange, when you’re a stranger.

Faces look ugly, when you are ugly.

Women seem wicked, when you are wicked.

Streets are an evil place, when you’re evil.

When you’re strange, faces come out and are strange.

When you’re strange, no one remembers you’re strange.

When you’re strange.

When you’re strange…

Or something like that. I’ll admit, I’ve never paid close attention to the song.

I did enough drugs in high school to believe Pink Floyd were the greatest band in history, but I didn’t, and will never, do enough drugs to believe that Jim Morrison was a poet…

JEFFREY

Pilgrimage
by Jeffrey Fischer

The stranger ambled into the village. His eyes shifted left, then right, but he saw no one. This was the first habitation he had found in days, and he was hoping to restock his food and water with the little cash that remained.

He opened the door to the general store and was assailed by the smell of death. A woman, presumably the proprietress, lay on the floor in a state of decay. He bent over her, trying to discover whether her death was from natural causes. Pustules on her face suggested some kind of pox. It wasn’t a stretch to think the rest of the village shared her fate.

With no wasted movements, he took the supplies he needed and set off. The next few days would show whether he also brought anything unwanted with him.

Stranger than Fiction
by Jeffrey Fischer

Robert Heinlein was a towering figure in the Golden Age of science fiction. He wrote for children as well as adults. He wrote space opera tales of rockets and colonization of the Moon and wars with aliens, but he also wrote on more serious themes in his “future history” series, and in later novels such as “Stranger in a Strange Land” and “Time Enough for Love.” Many teenaged boys were fascinated with the themes in these books, perhaps not least that of removal of restraints on sexual behavior. An endless parade of hot, willing women seemed like a good idea to the mind of the teenaged male. Unfortunately, as they were to learn, that particular conceit might have been the biggest fiction of all.

CHARLIE

My shaman was a total stranger when he first started teaching me how to get high without drugs. He sold cars, but he accumulated some money, and had a nice house in the hills. His method used crystals and stones. When placed on various chakras, including The Kundalini, my shaman would wait until the stones absorbed the forces, then he would pick the largest stone and make a tea out of it, drinking it down quickly while it was still full of all the essential juices. Those of us in the class thought he was a bit of a perv.

#2

When I was in kindergarten, Mum admonished me about talking to strangers. She described Stranger Danger saying I was destined to get accosted, kidnapped, beaten, killed, then gang raped if I talked to any strangers. She put the fear in me early on, as I was wary of speaking to anyone at all if I were out alone, or if I got separated from either parent when shopping or out for a walk. After school today, I was at the corner and a white van pulled alongside. The driver motioned to me to get inside. I never uttered a word.

#3

She grew stranger and stranger as the years passed and as she continued smoking crack. She lost things as she moved through the aisles at Walmart, and by the time she was at the check stand, she started screaming and babbling that someone stole her baby, her dog, her purse, and her coat. She would curl into a tight ball, tuck in her legs, curl up on the floor, and bawl until the manager and assistant manager put her in a shopping cart and took her to the parking lot. Crazy Daisey was never locked up or ordered into rehab.

#4

Bart bragged about getting a bit of strange when he was in England. He went to a dance in Hoddesdon, and met a pert young lady. When he approached her and asked her for a dance, she told him to fuck off. He busted out in laughter and I suppose she was so shocked by his reaction, her defenses were dropped, so they danced for the rest of the night. He slipped her a couple of Roofies he always carried in a little, metal pill box he wore around his neck, and it was straight to the snooch in minutes.

RICHARD

Dragon rage

After the many trials he’d endured so far, the hobbit was no stranger to danger, but this was by far the closest he, or his companions had come to death.

Hurriedly, Boggins started stuffing his pockets with gold, only to find, with a sinking heart, that the weight made it impossible to run.

Another roar, this time closer, filled the forest and, suddenly, his travelling companions appeared, fleeing for their lives.

“Do something!” they cried, tearing past.

Then the dragon was upon him!

Flinging handfuls of gold as far as he could, the hobbit shouted: “Fetch!” before diving for cover!

AMI

The SL Stranger Strangler

I fondle the soft, black, knitted ski mask in my left hand, the piano wire stretched between two wooden grips in the other.

Puzzle pieces dropped in chats over time belied your identity. Sincere and sweetly seductive declarations shared between us were only means to your satisfied end. Now, I’ll have mine. No, you’re not the first.

The Greyhound hums and closes the gap; have your fantasy with another. You’ll be mine soon.

My garrote, my equalizer; your size and strength no match. I’ve known the ultimate orgasm as fingers claw at the unrelenting strangle-hold, bleeding, eyes pleading. You really never knew us.

AUBREY

My best friend takes me down rabbit holes now and then. Most of the time I don’t even realize she’s done it until we’re already falling. She takes my hand, and leaps headfirst down, and I can’t help but be pulled along with her.

But I like that sensation, free falling towards an adventure, even though I’m terrified to jump. Too many people in the past pushed me down the rabbit hole but didn’t jump.

Now I like the thrill when things get curiouser and curiouser. Strange and then stranger.

It’s not an adventure, unless things get a little weird.

SERENDIPITY

That person, staring at you as you squirm uncomfortably on the bus.

That person, pressing in, far too closely, as you wait in the queue.

That person, waving their fist from behind the wheel as they cut in front at the junction.

That person, who bumped you, spilling your drink, before melting into the crowd.

That person, you wave to across the street, only to realise – acutely embarrassed – you don’t know them at all.

That person, you pass in the subway, without looking before hurrying away.

That person: The perfect stranger, nameless and faceless.

That person, is me.

TURA

Stranger

———

When the gods were new, they assembled together to know what they should do.

“I have made a strange thing,” said one. And he showed a vast universe of whirling balls of fire.

Another said, “I will make a stranger.” And he punctured that universe with many holes, and inside each he showed that self-same universe reflected.

A third said, “I will make yet stranger.” On a tiny lump of rock he created a host of small figures that fought among themselves, and took themselves to be gods.

“This is the strangest thing,” they agreed. “Let us call it ‘Man’.”

LIZZIE

“I’m sorry,” said the stranger before hanging up.
She was perplexed. Probably a wrong number, but still… a bit creepy.
When she turned off the light, she didn’t notice the slight creaking of the entrance door and a shadow walking towards her bed. Drowsy, she only felt a slight sting on her neck.
No one ever saw her again.
The only thing they found was a card on her nightstand saying “Gone”.

She would come back, years later. She too would call someone to say “I’m sorry”. That was the price to be free. And she had to pay it.

DANNY

I’m a stranger in the eyes of myself. All the hopes and dreams of my obnoxious youth has faded in the cold harsh rain of reality. Dis-barred, dis-enfranchised, dis-owned, dis-loved, dis-respected, simply dissed by every level of society. The words of truth carry a very heavy price, because the words will not be heard by the weak, cursed by the enfranchised, and dismissed by those who actually own literally everything we take for granted. We bought into the lie of freedom and justice for all, when in reality, there is just the fictional liberal boogieman we are trained to kick.

PLANET Z

The fortune cookie said: “Help a stranger.”

After I paid my bill and walked out the door, there was a homeless guy standing there asking for help.

“Hi stranger,” he said. “Can you help me? I need five bucks.”

Which explained why I got a fortune cookie at a shoe repair shop.

And it wasn’t as much a cookie as an orange rind wrapped around shoe cardboard.

The fortune was written on it in shaky block print. The same as the bum’s sign.

“Just five bucks,” he said.

I helped him into the street with a kick to the ass.

Weekly Challenge #510 – Camera (Updated)

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:

Morning Tinny

JEFFREY

The Decline of Civilization
by Jeffrey Fischer

In downtown Washington, as in any tourist area, cameras are ubiquitous. Tourists snap away, taking home reminders of their trips. Back in the day, though, the expense of film made everyone consider carefully each click of the shutter.

Today, the horrible combination of digital cameras and human narcissism means that everyone takes selfies, invariably in stupid poses. You’ve seen them: the goofy grin, the peace sign, standing on one leg. The culmination of this terrible trend is the selfie stick. Only the fact that museums have started banning those abominations gives me a glimmer of hope for humanity.

Propaganda Film
by Jeffrey Fischer

Looking straight into the camera, Lieutenant Sheaffer began to read the propaganda script his captors had forced on him. He had considered resisting, but instead designed a better plan. He recalled Commander, later Admiral, Jeremiah Denton, who was taken prisoner during the Vietnam War and who used a series of eye blinks to spell out “torture” in Morse code as he read Viet Cong propaganda. Like Denton, the young Lieutenant used Morse code to blink out a message. This one simply read, “assholes.”

Back in the U.S., no one could agree whether Sheaffer was referring to his Iranian captors or the spineless politicians back home.

CHARLIE

They say cameras don’t lie, but mine lied like a rug; like a cheap watch. I’d take a picture of a beautiful woman, and when I got home and looked at the photos, the light was wrong, the photo was blurred, or the top of her head was cut off. My camera was a prefabricator. It was a Leica M-3 and I suspected as much. I bought it in small shop in Bonn, Germany from an ex Nazi. I should have avoided the place, as it was frequented by skinheads and lots of older men with glasses and brown overcoats.

#2

The ultra-miniature camera was cleverly integrated into the frame of my thick glasses. I could trigger the camera and microphone with a small, radio device in my pocket. I’d be markedly rude to someone just to get a close-up of their expected, enraged expression and their explosive reaction. Often, I went out of my way to be purposefully rude to the barista or the waitress at the cafe. This morning, the last image that was recorded was the fork approaching the center of my forehead as I made a particularly ugly remark to the obese server at Wo Lee’s Restaurant.

#3

My new camera is the shit. It has a dozen modes, takes two flash chips, has built in Wi-Fi, accepts voice commands, prompts subjects to smile, to stay still, to move left or right, higher or lower, can take ultraviolet and infrared images, emits a signal if more than ten feet away from me, has gyro stabilization, ear and mic jacks, wireless charging capacity, and it can send a signal to outboard recording discs or to a cloud account. It features an ultrasonic sensor cleaning “motor”, etc., etc. I found the camera in the back seat of my landlord’s Lincoln.

MUNSI

My Camera

By Christopher Munroe

I’ve bought a Polaroid camera.

And film, obviously. It would’ve been pointless without film.

I bought it just in case I meet a girl with brown hair and glasses, who loves The Smiths and wants to teach me to love life again the way a child does.

We’ll lay by the river, talking about our hopes and dreams while I snap Polaroids of the two of us, falling in love.

I don’t have a specific bespectacled brunette in mind, yet, I bought it just in case…

After all, if I ever DO meet her, I’d hate not to be ready…

RICHARD

#1 – Camera

You know all those moments when you just wish you had a camera with you, only you haven’t?

That’s the story of my life!

Those once in a lifetime opportunities to capture history in the making… But the camera’s still in the car.

Those freak occurrences, when you’re in the right place, at exactly the right time… And your camera isn’t.

Those iconic shots that get put on t-shirts and are recognisable the world over… If only you’d brought the camera.

Happens to me, time after time.

I’m beginning to think that press photographer was definitely the wrong career choice.

#2 – The Gospel According to Norman: The Parable of the Tourist

It so happened that a certain stranger to the country was separated from his family and found himself lost in the city.

It came to pass that good fortune led him to the temple square, where he gazed in wonderment at the great house of the Almighty, built by the toil of faithful men.

Wishing to preserve the moment, he brought forth his camera, calling upon a passer-by to assist. As he posed before the temple gates, the rogue made off with his camera, disappearing into the crowd.

Be not fooled – though the temple is holy, man is not.

LIZZIE

Lillie was bored. Work, home, the occasional walk at the beach. It was during one of these walks that she spotted the camera. She looked around. The beach was practically deserted. A few surfers challenged the waves. She grabbed the camera and wiped the sand away. Then, she clicked the power button. And there it was, someone else’s life. The family get-together. A birthday and a wedding. The pregnant girlfriend and the beach, this beach. Suddenly, Lillie’s life wasn’t boring any more. She had to find these people. Yes, and in the meantime, she’d be the keeper of their past.

AMI

Hair, make-up, outfit perfect. Vultures, pixel whores, candid money-shot stalkers. Bounty sold to the highest bidder for gold and recognition. Not the halos-of-light and soft-shadows image. No, they covet that moment when the wind is angry and a memorable contortion belies natural grace.

Posture perfect, chin up, sparkle on and moving gingerly to the elevator, my eyes scan, anticipating the sneak attack. I smooth and position before the lobby doors open. Nothing. Stealth bastards.

Realization won’t deflate my outer calm. I move confidently into the spotlight of a chandelier and tap, smiling at my Verizon LG.

AUBREY

Most of the time when people see me wandering around with my nice camera, they figure I’m into photography.

I guess they’re not wrong, technically.

A part of me wonders if that would be better, maybe easier, than what I actually do.

Sitting in a car, outside a seedy motel or a bar isn’t exactly glamorous work. But catching people at their not-so-finest moments? It pays the bills.

I suppose maybe I am a photographer, the subjects just don’t know their secrets are no longer secrets. It’s not art, but it is lucrative. That will have to do for now.

SERENDIPITY

That bright flash you saw out of the corner of your eye was sunlight catching my lens.

Foolish of me really – I should take more care – it would be such a shame to give the game away now.

I’ve been watching you for weeks: Camera documenting every movement and every moment as your life unfolds through my viewfinder.

I know your routines, what you do, where and when you go – there’s not a thing I don’t know about you.

Your own, personal, private camera shoot.

And, one of these days…

I’m going to shoot you for real!

TOM

I Am a Camera

Most kid’s first camera was a Kodak Box Brownie. Not yours truly. At the
tender act of 10 I was shooting with a twin lens Zeiss Ikon Ikoflex, a
camera my father had purchase in Japan, during the Korean War. Beautiful 2
Ľ inch negatives. By 12 I had an entire darkroom set up in the back bath
room. Over the years I have had a dozen LSR cameras. Shot 1000s of photos.
I got boxes of negatives shot over a half century. You would think I might
harbor a romantic longing for chemical photography. Screw that, give me
digital

TURA

Camera

———

I have an aura camera. At least, that’s how I present my stall at Mind Body and Spirit shows. The camera’s loaded with UV-sensitive film, and with a few blacklights and cold reading, it turns a steady penny.

This this guy shows up, tall, elegant, a little odd.

“Would you like to *really* see auras?” he said.

“The camera works well enough,” I say, trying to figure his game.

“The gift chooses *you*,” he says, and walks off.

And now I do see everyone’s auras. I can’t see my own though. They don’t show up in mirrors. Or in cameras.

NORVAL JOE

Tyler Perry mugged for the TV cameras as he walked up the red carpet, a late nominee to the Oscars.

A multiple nominee, Mr. Perry waited in vain for a win in the categories of script writing for his most recent offering in the Madea franchise, “Medea and Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure” and Costuming for his portrayal as Medea in “Medea and Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure”.

Ultimately, his greatest disappointment was not winning the category of “Man Dressed as an Old Fat Woman” which went to a high school drama class’s recording of their performance of “Mrs. Doubtfire”.

PLANET Z

I’ve got one of those smartphones with a built-in camera.
I can’t remember the last time I used an actual camera.
I know that I’ve got a digital camera somewhere in my desk drawer.

Which might come in handy, if I ever need to snap a photo of my camera.

If nobody else with a smartphone is around.

Or I couldn’t manage to get a hold of someone, since it is a phone, after all.

Or text someone. Or facebook a meetup.

Although I could probably snap a photo of my smartphone with the camera in my laptop.

Never mind.

Weekly Challenge #509 – Thoughts

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

On Filmgoing

By Christopher Munroe

I’ve seen Inception.

Presumably.

I mean, it’s the type of movie I WOULD see. I love Chris Nolan, he makes interesting, thinky blockbusters that blend spectacular visual effects with densely packed ideas, and I respond consistently well to his films.

Also: Batman.

Plus, I remember watching the film, enjoying the performances and talking on my way home about whether Leo had woken up or not. I remember it vividly.

But, in spite of all that, if it were just a case of somebody putting the MEMORY of the movie Inception in my mind while I slept, how would I know?

TOM

your own steps in flight

I thought about you today. I remember the day I took the picture tacked to
the wall. Something had caught your interest and just the shadow of a
smile graced your face. I thought I had boxed up all the photos after the
funeral, but this one had somehow escaped the purge and was hiding under a
CalStrs report. Just a corner was showing, just a small edge of your hair,
but enough to send me sailing through time and space. I thought we would
grow old together. Wasn’t to be. I think I’ll leave that one on the wall.

JEFFREY

Blue Book
by Jeffrey Fischer

Jeremy opened the exam. His eyes skimmed the first question, then the next and the next. He started to panic, all rational thoughts gone from his mind. He didn’t understand how this was happening. He had studied for this test harder than any previous one, and knew the material cold. For some reason, all he could recall were songs from his favorite metal bands and strategies for winning at Fallout 4. Only then did it occur to him that “studying” for the exam while listening to music and playing Fallout might not have been his best strategy.

Deep Thoughts
by Jeffrey Fischer

John had no real foreign policy expertise, but years in politics allowed him to fake it. He would listen to subordinates, ponder, stare at a point in the distance, and prepare to deliver Deep Thoughts. Examples included such gems as “Peace is important to the region,” and “We would be gravely concerned if Iran developed nuclear weapons,” and the bumper-sticker classic that “War is not the answer.”

A newcomer asked some of the old hands why they didn’t challenge John on his vague statements. One veteran finally broke the awkward silence. “The last time we insisted the boss come up with concrete guidance instead of his usual vague bullshit, we got James Taylor in Paris. Never again.”

CHARLIE

It was Spring, and the young man turned his thoughts to love…rather erotic trysts in the back of the school bus during football games. His target was Myrna Cotton. Jerry wished her mango was a little more pert, but he couldn’t be too fussy, given the time he had to join paunches with Myrna. Three days after his encounter with Myrna, Jerry was at the chemist buying cures identified as oils, compounds, expectorants, coated tablets, drops, liquids, waters, purifiers, balsams, renewers, balms, extracts, seltzers, preparations, vapors, and liniments. None of them worked, and Jerry’s El Jefe had to be excised.

#2

I enjoy thought problems. I’ll share one. You have an enemy combatant in your care. He knows where the bomb is hidden. You are alone with the man, and you have a toolbox full of pliers, hammers and linoleum knives. What is going through your mind as you try to reason with the man and repeatedly ask him where he secreted the bomb? After two hours, he has said nothing but his name. You eye the pliers in the toolbox. Do you start pulling his teeth or ripping out his fingernails, or do you give up and go to lunch?

#3

I always thought that interventions were fucking rude. Some friends gathered together last night and sprung an intervention. They surprised me in my own living room under the pretense of giving me a going-away party for my upcoming, yearly, trip to Japan. I was really upset, but managed to hear them out without revealing anything, making excuses, or busting out in tears. One of them went to his car and brought in a big whiteboard filled with numbers. They showed me how much I had spent on rehab, medical bills, drugs and alcohol. I got sober at 2 this morning.

RICHARD

#1 – Fool’s Gold

Having secured the ogre as best he could – double granny knots, a squirrel hitch and twelve turns around the nearest tree – the hobbit’s thoughts turned to the gold.

He was now rich beyond his wildest dreams, but he had no idea how to move the treasure, and he knew his travelling companions weren’t going to let him keep it for himself.

His thoughts were interrupted by a distant roar: Shortly after, the sounds of panic-stricken adventurers, echoed throughout the forest, along with the sound of a very angry pursuing dragon.

“Oh crap!”, thought Boggins, “that’s all I need!”

#2 – The Gospel According to Norman: Advice Regarding Impure Thoughts

If a man, or woman (for in the eyes of the One True Law, they are also men), would entertain impure and base thoughts, then it shall be an abomination and they should be cast out and declared ritually unclean.

For it is better to enter the Kingdom of Norman adorned with filthy rags, yet possessed of pure and clean thoughts, than it is to profess innocence, yet be consumed with uncleanness and impurity.

Alternatively, you can choose to keep your thoughts secret and none will be any the wiser… For only a true fool admits to a smutty mind.

#3 – I had thoughts…

I had thoughts of writing a novel, but I didn’t have the time; I had thoughts to write a poem but the words just wouldn’t rhyme – well, they would, but no matter how hard I tried, I simply couldn’t make them scan.

I had thoughts to become a man of letters, but I couldn’t afford the stamps, then email came along, and it’s just not the same.

All my literary leanings came to nothing… Books, blogs, journalism – never successfully.

However, I’ve found my niche: hundred word stories – at last, something I can do!

(Dammit… four words short!)

LIZZIE

How much does a thought weigh? Is it as light as a flowing feather? Or as heavy as a broken heart? Is it as light as your deepest love or as heavy as your worst fear? And how much does the future weigh? More than the past? Less than the present? How much does a thought weigh when you’re afraid? Does it make you stare at the sky or does it make you sink in the ground? Is it as heavy as a string of tears or as light as a row of beads? How much does a thought weigh?

AUBREY

“Can’t you just, not think about it? Stop stressing yourself out. Breathe.”

It’s frustrating to say the least, when people treat your illness like it’s all in your head, because it has to do with your brain.

“Can’t you just, stop being diabetic? Stop taking your insulin. It will be fine.”
Are words you would never hear them say. No one tells you to just pull yourself up by the bootstraps when you have cancer or acid reflux.

The problem is, it’s not just in my head. It’s in everything I do.

I would stop if I could. Trust me.

SARAH

We’ve all had those thoughts… You know the ones – the murderous, evil and cruel sort – often spawned in anger, but always cold, rational and considered.

We’ve all imagined killing our boss, spouse, or that irritating guy at the bar – we’ve run through scenarios in our minds, planned alibis and plotted how we’d dispose of the body.

You all think that I’m twisted and freaky, but the truth is, I only say what the rest of you have thought at some time or another, and you know that’s true.

Just beware…

It’s a thin line between thought, and action.

AMI

Did you feel that? I’ll do it again . . . did you feel it then? Yeah, I saw your fine hairs rise.

Would I pray for your buddy? Of course; I have the power but, I want the best result so here’s the question. Does a prayer to a facilitator exponentially enhance the energy of my thought or, like electricity flowing through a long conduit which may cause resistance, diminish it?

NORVAL JOE

Dergle and Long John sat on a park bench, people passing by, apparently unaware of their presence.

“Is what the little girl said true in the converse?” he asked his dog. “If you can be whatever you want by just believing, if you stop believing in yourself will you cease to be whatever you were?”

The wiener dog raised his eyebrows.

Dergle continued, “The poet said, ‘As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he.’ So. If I think in my heart I am nothing, I must be nothing.”

Dergle patted his dog. “Thanks for believing in me, boy.”

TURA

Thoughts

———

Have you ever tried to think about the very thought you’re thinking when you think about the thought?

It’s like taking a step backwards to see yourself. When you think about a thought, you’re not having *that* thought, you’re having a thought about it. And if you think about the thought about the thought, that’s a third thought.

Just as well. If you thought about a thought that was itself the thought about that thought, your mind could get stuck in a loop. I reckon that’s all that so-called enlightenment is: tying your brain in a knot it can’t untie.

DANNY

Some comedian once said, “If you have a thought, maybe you should let it go.” You bet I should. Maybe this comedian was to drunk or high to drive. Probably didn’t even have a valid driver’s license. Has never before and never will respect the laws of descent society. Yet we try to be rational to irrationality, extend a hand in friendship to complete psychopaths. The type of person I used to represent in a court of law. So hand out some pretense and rage at the court of justice you now stage. It’s all just a lie. My thoughts.

PLANET Z

Ted’s magic penny allowed him to read the thoughts of others.

Place it on their skin, and the connection was made.

Reading the thoughts of his dog Sam was so strange. For a week, he wanted to drink from Sam’s water bowl.

He tried the penny on his cousin Albert while he was asleep.

The twisted things he saw made him scream and vomit, and he ran away.

Albert used the penny in a museum souvenir press, and it warped Ted’s visions further.

Ted spent years in an children’s asylum, tormented and raving, until he choked on his own tongue.

Weekly Challenge #508 – The Line

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:

Sleepy

MUNSI

My New Program

By Christopher Munroe

Here’s my pitch:

Our contestants, wild, sexy twentysomethings all, arrive at the house on the first day and are told to wait for the host to come and let them in.

The host, obviously, never comes, and the series is filmed in front of the house as, over the course of several days, without provisions beyond whatever they might have brought with them, they give up on ever being on TV and walk away…

The last, half starved, exhausted contestant still waiting, once the others have left, will be declared the winner.

“The Line” will premier this autumn, on NBC.

CHARLIE

Aaron crossed the line at every opportunity. He made it a point to shock, offend and irritate a dozen or more people every day. He wore t-shirts or hoodies with insulting and profane phrases, and adorned his jacket or fleece with even more offensive patches and buttons. His ability to rouse people’s ire was astonishing. The t-shirt he wore to his monthly Kiwanis meeting this morning was emblazoned with the words: “Nobody knows I’m a Lesbian.” Aaron got laughs from folks that were hip to sarcasm and black humor, but he only got grimaces and stink eye from the rest.

#2

Little Leo was a terrible student. He couldn’t draw a straight line if he didn’t have a straight edge to set his chalk against. However, he would practice for hours. He would draw the figure, common faces in the street, and copy sculpture in the church. Leo drew a lot of penises and many of his male figures were very feminine. The contemporaries of Leo accused him of being a Sodomite, either out of jealousy or rumors circulated at the time. Leo went on to create many famous works, including The Mona Lisa and the earliest drawing of the helicopter.

#3

Living below the “poverty line” and taking advantage of various public charities, exemptions, and subsidies was an art form. Bob even used the food bank. He had accumulated a couple of hundred thousand dollars, so he put all the money in his cousin’s name, and claimed several big, gambling losses over a period of five years. He drove an old car, dressed shabbily and let his yard go to weed. He kept to himself, and walked as often as the weather allowed. The utility companies and the tax assessor believed him when he reported a very low income. It worked.

#4

Lois delivered her line. She left the set and went to the parking lot to sit in her car. She had another small part after lunch. She ate and returned to the set. Her training at UCLA was demanding, and summer stock parts were helpful to polish her craft. The director called the actors back, and they shot the new film for the next couple of hours. Lois was more nervous than usual as her line was coming up. She lay there with her ankles locked behind her ears. “Sock it to me, Boatswain Mate, Murphy. Sock it to me!”

LIZZIE

The blue line on the floor was in sight. Damien waited eagerly. Stardom, they said. He stepped out of the vehicle and stood on his side of the line. He had thought about taking some food and some clothes with him. But he knew he’d have to wear a special suit anyway. They’d provide food too. Beaming, Damien stepped over the line. The portal sucked him in and minced him into little portions, wrapping him in some sort of plastic. He didn’t look bad in it. However, it had never crossed his mind that he would become the damn food.

ANA

Where would we be without the line?

We’d be stuck standing in line instead of walking the line.

The shortest distance between any two points is a straight line.

My line is never straight. My line ends up looking like scribbles.

Is anybody’s line ever straight?

Time to cross the road but there is a long line of traffic.

I might never cross the road. The line lasts forever.

Oh finally the end of the line. Time to cross the road.

I get to stand in the lunch line.

I certainly end up in line often.

I need a book.

JEFFREY

Getting the Point

Smith picked up the closest pen, a fine marker, and drew a line a third of the way across the page. He considered for a moment, then selected a medium-nib fountain pen with which to draw a second, wider line below the first. Finally, he chose a pen with a double-broad nib, the widest and wettest pen he owned, which he used primarily for signing documents. He made two more underlines, digging into the paper – the second time so hard the nib flexed.

“I’m not sure how much clearer I can be,” he told Jones, standing in front of Smith’s desk looking perplexed. Bold, all capitals, and now with four underlines. “YOU’RE FIRED!”

Useful Skills
by Jeffrey Fischer

In high school, I worked on the school newspaper, called the Brandywine *Line*. I’m not sure where the name came from – perhaps the founders liked the pleasing rhyme. We all wrote articles, made up headlines, and helped typeset the paper on ancient equipment, gluing articles and illustrations in place on the page and pasting corrections over the errata.

Although only one of us made a career in journalism, I think we learned some valuable skills during our late nights. Oh, not in typesetting: those machines were outdated even in the 70s. Not in composing headlines, either: creating mildly risque puns on school nicknames is a skill, to be sure, but less valuable than one might think. The real value was in having nerdy boys and nerdy girls learn to interact with the opposite sex. Just don’t tell our parents.

AMI

I found it, a beautiful crystal ball as clear as that perfect ice cube in a refreshing drink commercial. Boxed carefully for shipping in white tissue nestled in air-filled plastic pillows and addressed to my dear sister, the stock broker. She’ll laugh; she needs a laugh.

I quick-step up the building entrance calculating the line likely formed from the number of cars parked in front of the red brick icon. I’ll be out of here in noooooooo, how can this be? I pay my dues for being a good sister and head home to find a crystal ball for me.

AUBREY

Johnny Cash plays on the radio as we drive. The windows are down and warm summer air weaves through my hair as I lean out the passenger window. I get the feeling I’ll never experience something quite like this again, as we leave the funeral.

It’s strange how death can make you feel so alive. How songs become memories.

Because you’re mine, I walk the line. The words echo in my head as I look over at him, his eyes are on the road, on what is ahead of us. I can’t spend too much time looking behind, looking back.

RICHARD

#1 – That’s Life

Bombed, shot at, crawling through muddy trenches under fire… Rescuing people from fires and the brink of death… Infiltrating foreign regimes… Giving humanitarian aid in disaster zones.

Incredible challenges faced by remarkable people daily, and when you try to give them their due, their unassuming response? “It’s all in the line of duty”.

I understand that completely. After all, every day I battle with the stress and uncertainty of public transport, wrestle with packed city streets, suffer the trials of dealing with idiots in meetings and pointless telephone calls.

But, you know what?

It’s all in the line of duty.

#2 – Checkout

I joined the line at the checkout with the usual feeling of inevitability.

I knew every other line would move forward at a sprint, whilst mine crawled. I knew the person in front would have a million coupons. Chances are, someone would break a box of eggs, have their card declined and spend ages packing and repacking bags.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to fate.

“Excuse me, sir – everyone’s waiting!”

Damn! My turn. I fumbled for my bags, wallet and change, dropping my box of eggs in the process.

The exasperated sigh behind me told a familiar story!

#3 – The Gospel according to Norman: The Parable of the Unpaid Dues

It so happened a gambler fell upon hard times, losing all his wealth, and becoming a beggar in the marketplace.

“Woe is me,” he exclaimed, “I am sorely afflicted, what can I do?”

“You can bugger off from here for a start”, replied a more accomplished beggar: “this is my patch!”

The gambler took to the road, where he was set upon and beaten by robbers.

A kindly Samaritan saw the man, stopped, and gave him a helpline number to telephone.

However, the gambler hadn’t paid the phone bill – the line was dead, and shortly thereafter, so was he.

SERENDIPITY

There’s a line you just don’t cross – where any reasonable person turns their back and walks away.

It’s a line commonsense tells you must remain a hard limit – there’s a right side and a wrong side of that line; you cross it at your peril: only the foolish, the mad, the deluded, choose the wrong side.

But I’m none of them – I’m rational, calculating and entirely sane, and I’ve crossed every line there is – deep into the territory beyond.

I am you, as you really are, when you cross that line dividing waking and your dreams.

ZACKMANN

Oh my, I feel like I have been standing in this line for days. After serving a term in the military and shopping on Black Friday twice, some of us are slow learners, I promised myself to never stand in a line more than twenty people long again. Except for that one day I went to an anime convention, I did pretty well with that. Standing in long lines is my own personal hell. I see a guy who likes like Joe Hill’s father so I must have been wrong about this line being hell. He usually ends with purgatory.

TURA

Pound

———

After ten years of arduous travelling through the remotest places on Earth, at last I found the Hidden Master, seated outside a ten foot square hut. I put my questions.

—What is the teaching of the Buddha?

—Ten pounds of flax.

—Er, I mean, what did he tell people?

—Not a single grain of rice.

—Do you know where he is?

—The outhouse behind this hut.

—How can I get to speak to him?

—If you see that idiot on the road, kill him.

I can’t decide if those were koans, or if he was just deaf as a post.

———

Line

———

I remember “PDAs”, Personal Digital Assistants. That just meant a calendar app and an address book. Then recommender systems to tell you films you’d like. Now, Smartglass. It reads your heartbeat, brainwaves, eyegaze, everything. It knows what you want before you do and smooths the path.

It gamifies eating and exercise, so you’ll be fitter and healthier with Smartglass.

In some jobs it will do the job for you, continually whispering in your ear to tell you what to do.

Somewhere a line was crossed. We wanted paradise and all we got was machines to live our lives for us.

NORVAL JOE

Henry sat on the edge of the rain gutter and surveyed the line of pigeons at the top of the roof. He must forget these dull and unimaginative creatures were once his family. Not brothers and sisters–they were cousins or something like that.

“Forget that, now,” Henry told himself. “I’m a hawk and these pigeons are my dinner. But which one?”

Jenny was the fattest and probably the easiest to catch. He couldn’t drop from the sky like the rest of the hawks. Henry would have to sneak up and attack her from behind.

He’d have to wait until dark.

JUSTIN

The creature advanced. Feline form with aquatic features. The most feared, mysterious enemy of the United Empire of Earth, the Vanduul. He cowered from its cold gaze, weakly jabbing the knife towards the alien. It leapt, tearing the knife from his grasp. Its teeth glinted as it spoke.

“You killed my brother, and tore our ship apart and sold it for scrap, as is your right, but you stole this knife from me. That is not your right, it is a death sentence!”

The knife glinted as it flicked out, and a red, quickly growing line appeared across his stomach.

PLANET Z

Theodore was an expert in cell phone bombs.

He liked to watch his targets from the hills as he made the fatal calls.

These days, Central Command preferred drone strikes, but some targets dug deep enough to thwart the best bunker-busters.

Which also made it difficult for Theodore, too.

If the bomb can’t get signal, you can’t set it off.

Central Command tried to text Theodore with changed orders.

“Poison the air intake vents.”

But they called the wrong phone number.

It was for Theodore’s backup bomb. Which he’d mistakenly left on.

The target watched the explosion on the hill.

Weekly Challenge #507 – Pound

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:

Evil smudgeface

JEFFREY

The Diet
by Jeffrey Fischer

My wife observed that I had gained a few pounds – if by “few” one meant around 20 – so I resolved to do something about it. I ate smaller portions, I exercised more, and I filled up on leafy vegetables. Nothing worked.

As I poured myself a stiff drink, my wife made an arch comment about the number of calories in alcohol. “No wonder you’re not losing weight.”

“Honey,” I replied, “a man has his limits. I’m hungry after meals, I keep eating rabbit food, and if this bicycle weren’t stationary I’d have pedaled to Alaska. Of *course* I need to drink more.”

Foreign Travel
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sam stepped up to the currency exchange counter. “Hello, I’m traveling to England so I need some Euros.”

The lady blinked. “If you’re going to the UK, you need pounds sterling, not Euros.”

“The UK? No, just England.”

“England is part of the United Kingdom. And they have their own currency, not the Euro.”

“Having two names is very confusing. They should pick one. And their own currency? Since when?”

“The UK never adopted the Euro. They’ve used the pound for hundreds of years.”

“The pound? But that’s a unit of weight, not money.”

“Over there it’s money.”

“Well, what do they use to weigh things?”

“I believe they’re on the metric system, so they use kilograms, not pounds.”

“This is too confusing. I’ll go to Canada instead. Gimme some Canadian Euros.”

“You mean dollars.”

“No, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that dollars are American.”

“Fine, sir. How many Canadian Euros would you like?”

“Just give me a hundred kilograms’ worth.”

CHARLIE

He would pound a couple of shots and a few beers, then he’d ask for a mixed drink and start making his rounds throughout the bar. Most of the time he would bring in a couple of cans of laughy string from the trunk of his Volvo and use it to “get the party started.” Without any circumspection or discretion at all, he’d cover one end of the dance floor to the other with yards of pink, plastic goo…a lot finding its way into people’s hair and their drinks. Dennis was an insufferable asshole, but he was our church pastor.

2nd

My friend dropped two-hundred pounds. She had gastric band surgery. After putting a thousand-dollar deposit down, she pays $150 month until the fifteen thousand fee is paid off. She was a compulsive eater, just as she is a compulsive talker. Her mouth is always moving, and if she isn’t talking, she’s stuffing herself with chips, cake, cookies and “little” bits of other fat-inducing goodies. After her weight loss, she lightened her hair and let it grow. She still weighs three hundred pounds, but she can walk now without help. Her gallbladder had to be removed and she has chronic indigestion.

3rd

My other mate dropped two-hundred pounds at the dog track each month. He had a severe gambling addiction, including purchase of lots of lottery tickets during the week, and spending a fortune on line with sports betting. His children went without, and his wife took two buses across town to work at a fast food place in Twiddlebury. Other plonkers dropped pounds on bets on the weather and what the sex would be of the next illegitimate child born at the nunnery. No one suffered more than his youngest girl, who had to wear the castoffs of her older brother.

RICHARD

#1 – Lycra

For my new years’ resolution, I decided to get fit – not necessarily going the whole hog and getting a gym body, but just lose a few pounds and tone up.

It’s not a pretty sight though – a sweaty, overweight, middle-aged bloke, red-faced and panting, clad head to toe in skin-tight lycra.

The gear alone has cost me a small fortune, but there’s a method to my madness.

You see, I reckon if you’re going to pound the streets, you have to make the effort to look the part… Even if looking the part makes you look an idiot.

#2 – One Pound

I know a pound of lead weighs no more than a pound of feathers, but trust me, psychologically lead is always going to seem heavier.

How do I know? Twenty years loading cargo, that’s how. I’ll take feathers over lead any day!

If it looks heavy, it will feel heavy – no amount of reasoning will make any difference.

Give me feathers, foam, polystyrene or bubble wrap any time and it won’t feel like work; lead or iron, and you’ve an unhappy man on your hands.

Not that management care – all they’re interested in is their pound of flesh.

#3 – Ogre and ogre again

Boggins could scarcely believe his luck – for once everything was going his way, and without any of that unnecessary mucking about slaying dragons!

Gazing down at the gold, he became aware of a dark shadow suddenly looming over his shoulder. A shadow that was disconcertingly ogre shaped and a rather angry ogre, at that.

“I’m going to pound you so flat, you’ll be a hobbit pancake “, the ogre snarled.

Once again, Boggin’s trusty staff swung into action and, once again, the ogre fell to the floor with a thud.

Taking no chances, Boggins resorted to double granny knots!

#4 – The gospel according to Norman: the parable of the annoying neighbour

It came to pass a man was aroused from his rest by a hammering upon his door.

“Why, neighbour do you pound upon my doorpost at this late hour summoning me from my bed?”

“Sir!”, the neighbour replied, “My young wife has wandered from her chamber and is lost! Will you help search for her?”

“Indeed, I will not – for a husband who loses his wife has no business asking another for assistance.”

The man closed his door, thereupon which the neighbour continued to pound.

Which bothered the man not, since he was far too busy pounding his neighbour’s wife!

CHARLIE

Pound Cake

By Christopher Munroe

Pound cake is delicious cake, made with flour, butter, eggs and sugar in a 1:1:1:1 ratio, baked in either a loaf pan or Bundt mold, then either dusted with powdered sugar, glazed or on rare occasion served with a coat of icing.

Recipes vary by region, but that’s the basics no matter where you go and, ordering a slice of pound cake, that’s approximately what you should expect.

“Pound Cake” is also a kiss off you can say to someone in the heat of anger, but it’s a confusing one that I wouldn’t recommend.

But that’s neither here nor there…

AUBREY

“You’ve got your pound of flesh. Let her go.” He growled.

“Come, come James, did you really think it would be so easy? I have everything I want now. You, the girl and the bomb.” The villainess retorted, as she slithered toward him.

She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. He waited for her to continue, but instead she slumped to the ground in front of him, revealing the so-called “girl” behind her.

“She talks too much. Gave me a good chance to get out of my restraints.” She held up a large wrench. “And to get this handy thing.”

SERENDIPITY

I like to think I’m contributing something to society – keeping the streets clean and safe, and giving those poor strays a little care and kindness.

Of course, working at the pound isn’t glamorous – it’s a hard, dirty, smelly job; and being voluntary, there’s no wage at the end of the day.

That’s not to say there aren’t perks – those special moments when we can rehome a stray with a loving family.

As for those who don’t find a home… They go into the mincer – I get a good price for the meat from McDonald’s.

I’m lovin’ it!

ZACKMANN

Thump. Thump. So my kid who is sensitive to noise can’t sleep. Neither can I. Thump. Thump. He tells me using the noise reducing headphones doesn’t stop the house from shaking and being on the opposite side of the house from the thumping doesn’t help any. This is the last time I buy a house that isn’t at least ten feet away from the next house. It’s like living in the goddamn Tell-Tale Heart every time the neighbor who shares a wall turns on his bass heavy stereo. I’m hearing the Tell-Tale Heart but I haven’t even killed anyone, yet.

LIZZIE

Andrew only wanted to belong to the group of cool guys.
“According to the book, to be accepted you must eat a pound of salt,” they said.
So, he agreed.
The result wasn’t good.
His family, friends, and doctors asked him why, but he never gave the guys up.
When he was about to die, he recalled having read that in China nobility used to commit suicide by eating salt.
His intention had definitely not been to commit suicide, quite the opposite.
The guys denied everything, even the existence of the book.
Andrew’s last thought was “Ugly people, happy monsters.”

MARV

London Bobby Nigel Bakersfield was patrolling his beat when he spied several boys harassing a woman.

Rushing to the woman, Nigel yelled “What’s going on here?”

With that, the boys scattered away,

“Are you alright madam?” Nigel inquired.

“Not bloody likely, I’d say” She replied, “those buggers just grabbed 2 pounds of Earl Grey tea I just bought for £6.15.”

Nigel handed the woman a crisp £10.00 note, grinned and said,

“I’ll make sure they pay well for it, I’ll be pounding some sense in to those young bloke’s heads”, slapping his baton in the palm of his left hand.

Background music was The Space Runaway by Alexye Nov

NORVAL JOE

Billy needed one more ten pound sack of steer manure and his project would be complete. Mixing the stuff at a one to one ratio with plaster of Paris he created a modeling material that was easy to shape, had a long working time and was light enough when fully dry that it wouldn’t be too hard to move the finished project.

Working the modeling material around a wire frame he finished the head of a life sized model of Donald Trump. He couldn’t wait to display his statue outside the hall where the presidential candidate was scheduled to speak.

PLANET Z

Her place is a mess, in the middle of a shitty neighborhood.

She’s a lousy cook, and the pound cake came out of the freezer.

But, man, could she fuck like lightning.

All guys had to do was get past that first dinner, spend a few minutes in the bathroom quietly throwing up, swish some mouthwash around, and they were in for the ride of their life.

Sadly, for them, and her, none did.

So, she got a few cats, fed them whatever canned stuff was on sale, bought an expensive vibrator from Amazon, and ordered out a lot.

Weekly Challenge #506 – Early

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 in beer box

MUNSI

On Birds

By Christopher Munroe

The early bird, it’s been said, gets the worm.

The burly bird, then, presumably gets the larger, more muscular worm.

The Hurley bird? Dude, he gets the worm.

And the Mr. Furley bird THINKS he’ll get the worm, but finds out at the end of half an hour that it’s all been a misunderstanding.

The Larry, Moe and Curly birds attempt to get the worm, but fail due to a combination of incompetence and shenanigans.

And, obviously, the rural-ley bird absolutely crushes worm-getting.

Thus concludes my presentation. I hope you found it useful, though I suspect that you did not.

JEFFREY

Early Adopter
by Jeffrey Fischer

Jake prided himself on being ahead of the technology curve. Back in 1982, he sported a Casio calculator watch, an ungainly device with microscopic keys that displayed basic calculations on an unreadable screen. “In just a few years,” he’d say, “everyone will have a tiny computer on his wrist, and it will look sleek and stylish.” In 1985, he bought an analog cell phone the size and weight of a brick, explaining to detractors that future phones would be much more portable.

Today? Oh yes, Jake still uses technology. He wears an ungainly smart watch and carries a Samsung Galaxy Note, which, when placed against his face, bears no small resemblance to his DynaTAC phone. Maybe he really was ahead of his time.

Evolution
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Early man lived in primitive conditions that we can only imagine with horror. He hunted for meat. When none was found, he went hungry. He slept rough – in caves or primitive shelters. He died early – often of disease or infection.

“Now, tens of thousands of years later, we don’t have to live like cave man any longer! We can use technology to better our lives. But no, you’re content to keep our household stuck in the days before someone invented the wheel.”

“Harold, I don’t care. You are not spending $5000 on a 75-inch Ultra HD television set. Make do with the 60 inch.”

CHARLIE

The early man on the bus kept to himself. He was an ugly cuss. Unfortunately, he had the physical traits of the original early man…a large jaw, a small, flat nose with big nostrils, and an enormous brow. He was quietly reading the Times Book Section, so I figured his intelligence was normal or above normal. He noticed something on the man sitting next to him; he stared for moment, then quickly snatched something from the hair behind his ear. The man flinched, but didn’t realize what just happened. Early man was grooming his fellow tribe member, and catching bugs.

2nd

Steve was always early for club meetings, church socials, classes and work. He arrived twenty-five to thirty minutes early for all appointments in order to get the best seat, the best pastry on the table at AA meetings, and time to scope out all the exits in case he had to make a run for it. When he drove, he pushed his seat all the way forward on the tracks, and pressed himself tight against the steering wheel. When the inevitable accident happened, as we knew it would, the seat belt, combined with the air bag, ripped off his head.

3rd

The early berm gets the bird. It was not any one person’s fault, but the construction team left the high, dirt, berm in the flight path of the sparrows and blackbirds, and it took its toll. Six thousand birds struck the high berm on their way out of the forest into the feeding areas. The fog was thick and the berm was constructed ahead of schedule. The birds crashed into each other and into the packed earth. The local construction company apologized and donated to the Audubon group, taking full responsibility. In grief, Mary The Bird Lady, took her life.

4th

Earl Lee was a redneck, and the kind of psychopath that people avoided because of his filthy mouth and filthier ways. He was a peeping tom, a wife beater, stalker, and lurker, and spit in customer’s meals at the diner. He was as despicable as he was charming, but the charm was short-lived, and only used to weasel his way into people’s confidence before he fleeced them, borrowed money, or extracted some information about upcoming dog track races. Earl Lee was gang-raped the first night of his three month sentence in the county jail, and screamed like a stuck pig.

RICHARD

Perspective

It’s all a matter of perspective – for years my parents, teachers and mentors criticised my lack of forthrightness and ‘get up and go’.

“Grasp opportunities when they come along”, they’d tell me, throwing in the same old platitudes… “He who hesitates is lost… The early bird gets the worm!”

Not that I paid any attention.

My perspective was different: He who hesitates, lives to fight another day, and the early worm is the one that gets eaten.

So, having seen my friends’ businesses fail from rash speculation and foreclosures, I bought them out on the cheap.

And made a fortune.

TOM

The Best We Can.

“Too early to be gone,” said Jimmy. “She was 22,” said Sally which sent her brother into a pool of tear. Perhaps that wasn’t quiet the best thing to say. She regrouped. “Your cat was so lucky to have you as a friend. You kept her warm. Gave her a soft place to lie. Wet food, not that crummy dry stuff. She was loved and in the end you were there to end her pain.” “Is she in heaven?’ “Pope says so.” “I miss her.” “I know.” Jimmy rolled up a towel and gently tucked it under Rasta’s chin. “Good-by.”

AUBREY

If I’m two minutes early, I’m not really early. That’s not how my brain works. Time is money and time has value. So I won’t waste yours, if you promise not to waste mine.

Get there early.

Not two minutes before, not right on time and definitely not two minutes late.

Otherwise you are wasting my time and yours, because I can’t take you seriously if you don’t take my time seriously. Get to the point or get out, now. There are always stragglers who think that fifteen minutes late is on time. They’re jerks. Screw them.

Get there early.

SERENDIPITY

“You’re early”, he said, briefly casting a glance at me from beneath his cowl before turning his attention back to sharpening the scythe in his hands. “Go back to where you came from – I’ll come calling when it’s your time.”

I squatted down and looked Death straight in the eye-sockets.

“I’ve come about the job.”

Death slowly laid down his scythe and waved a bony finger at me: “There is no job. I work alone. Now leave me in peace!”

“Certainly.” I replied; “Rest in peace!” Taking hold of the scythe and slicing Death’s head clean off.

“My job now!”

ZACKMANN

I like that actor Michael Ealy. you know spelled like “early” without the “r”. I have been looking at some television spots from when he and Keith Urban were promoting my favorite buddy cop show “Almost Human”. I was hoping to hear someone say Michael’s chosen last name to get right pronunciation but I keep on seeing clips where they say how glad they were about their show getting picked up expecting them to suddenly say “Too bad it is good Science Fiction on Fox so we won’t get a second season” like the YouTube comments from their fans say.

LIZZIE

She was late and he was furious.
When he saw her walking towards him, he forgot all his promises.
He wanted to beat her up, make her pay. She always made him do it, always.
As soon as she kissed him, he raised his fist.
“You said you’d come early,” he whispered.
In the blink of an eye, she knocked him down and held him in a chokehold, watching him turn blue.
“Please…” He wiggled his legs. He struggled for air.
The crowd gathered around in silence.
“No more,” she said. “He needs to learn.”
No one called the police.

MICHAEL

It was a nightmare. Who ever convinced him to hire Santa Elfs in their off season should be fired as well. Marcus thought angrily. The call waking him early this morning told him that a large order of Sprinkle Cakes was going to have to be recalled. Costing the company millions. All because one! of the Elves had come into work drunk on leftover eggnog and proceeded to Pee directly into the batch of white Sprinkles! The foreman that should have caught this early was drunk as well. I’ll never let those Elves bring Eggnog to work again.

NORVAL JOE

Henry was no longer an average pigeon. He’d decided to rise above the others and become a red tailed haw.

Isolating himself from the other pigeons of the flock he carefully watched the hawks circling high in the sky. As he pecked at seeds and small bugs he watched the hawks drop from the sky like a rock. The hawk fed on rodents and small birds.

Henry then knew what he had to do to become more like the hawk.

Working in the early hours before the others woke, he picked his first victim.

The flock woke to a murder.

TURA

A Story of the Early Desert Fathers

———

Abba Jerome left his cave to visit his neighbour Abba Genarius, thirty miles away. He confessed ashamedly, “I have written a book.”

“If it concern our Lord,” said Abba Genarius, “that is a praiseworthy thing.”

Abba Jerome sighed. “It began so, but I invented stories of the people around Him. Now His life is hardly mentioned, while the stories breed and multiply of themselves. Surely some demon afflicts me.”

Prophecy came upon Abba Genarius. “In time to come, it will be called ‘airport fiction’,” he said, “but do not ask me what that means, for it makes my head hurt.”

———

Music credit: “Chant from a Holy Book”, by Georges Gurdjieff, played by the Gurdjieff Folk Instruments Ensemble.

PLANET Z

These days, Spring comes early.

Summer comes early, too.
And it stays a really long time.

Fall comes late.

And Winter barely comes at all.

The birds are so confused by it all. So are the crops and the flowers.

We ask the Head Pilot to change the orbital colony’s angle, but they decline our request.

The tourists prefer the summer. More tourists means more money, which everyone shares.

And we can grow food with hydroponics. The farms are so wasteful, aren’t they?

Kids want to be physicists… scientists… pilots… hydroponic farmers.

Nobody wants to be a dirt farmer anymore.

Weekly Challenge #505 – New Years Resolution

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:

IMG_2902.JPG

MUNSI

My New Year’s Resolution

By Christopher Munroe

In the new year, I’m going to like me.

I’ll look upon myself, upon my works, and strive to honestly like what I see, to take pride in those aspects of myself that I deserve pride in, to see those aspects clearly, rather than depending on the validation of others.

I’ll self-validate, because I’ll know my own approval is the only approval I’ve ever needed. And, in doing so, I’ll finally allow myself to be happy.

Obviously, this won’t happen. My self-loathing is far too internalized by this point.

Still, I will try.

Or at least: I’ll try to try…

CHARLIE

Honestly, I don’t believe in resolutions. If you feel the need to change something for your health, business, home, etc., it shouldn’t wait until the New Year. Resolutions are broken inside of a month. Fat people say they won’t stuff their face, will walk two or three more miles a day, and this lasts until the weekend when they find themselves saying fukit and cramming a bag of chips or cookies in their face. Adulterers swear that the last jump of the bones will put an end to their affair. Bollocks. A good resolution would be to stop making resolutions.

2nd

I hope to dream more in the New Year–more dreams of spirit animals, like wolves and owls. I will write down the dreams when I awake and train myself in lucid dreaming so I can more easily control my place in the dreams, what I can do, who I see, and what I can reveal. I strongly vow that if I pull my pistol in the New Year, I will be using lethal rounds and aim for main mass rather than a knee or foot. Also, lastly, I plan to expand my swordsman’s skills in and about the county.

JEFFREY

My New Year’s Resolution
by Jeffrey Fischer

In 2016, I resolve to eat better. You look a little skeptical, so I’d better explain. I don’t mean I want to eat a *healthier* diet – heavens no. I want to upgrade the *quality* of what I ingest. Foie gras instead of pate with the taste and consistency of cat food. Single malt Scotch aged until it’s old enough to drink, and not bottom-shelf rotgut whose age statement is measured in days. No gristly hamburger, only Kobe beef, preferably using cows that Mr. Bryant himself massages.

Of course, affording this lifestyle change could be a challenge, which brings me to our meeting today. Hand over your valuables – this is a stickup.

Passing the Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

“See that guy? Mister Man Bun?” John asked his wife.

“God, how awful,” Melanie replied.

“The worst part is, he thinks it looks good.”

“Well, he’s wrong. Hey, how about the chick in the maxi dress? Those colors are ghastly.”

“Nice look if she’s a hippie in 1969.” John and Melanie were on the Metro, on their way to a New Year’s Eve party, playing their game of “spot the fashion disaster.” It was a target-rich environment.

“Wait a sec, John. Didn’t we resolve to be nicer to other people in 2016? We decided the snarky comments had to go.”

“Right, absolutely. No more snark….Technically, though, it’s still 2015 for a few more hours. I say let’s not hold back.”

“Oh, good! See the guy with the cheap fur hat? Looks like a rodent landed awkwardly on his head…”

RICHARD

New year resolution

I can’t say my schooldays were pleasant. I was frequently the butt of jokes because I had one of those faces only a mother could love: Huge sticky-out ears, and a massive nose earned me the nickname ‘elephant Man’; whilst buck teeth, pebble glasses and shock of ginger hair did little to improve things.

After leaving school, I resolved to change my fortunes. Hair dye solved one problem, corrective surgery and laser treatment sorted out my eyesight and nose, whilst a small fortune in dental treatment fixed my teeth.

Just one thing left: next year see’s my new ear resolution!

TOM

The Grasshopper Lies Heavy

True to form Bernie dutifully made out his resolutions for the coming year. There was the usually ones concerning weight and health. The social ones about keeping in touch with friends and family. All pretty pedestrian, until he got to resolution 15: Raise an evil army for global domination. His girlfriend Ruth helpfully pointed out he had misspelled domination. “Thanks Honey. That most assuredly would have raised serious doubts among my minions.” “You might want to rethink that “minions thing” that term has been co-opted to the cute. How about Spawn of Darkness?” Bernie gave her two thumbs up.

LIZZIE

A Letter on Believing

“Sometimes, there are things in life that make us struggle, that turn each day into an uphill battle.
Then, sometimes, someone shows up and asks “are you okay?”
Sometimes, a question as simple as this is all it takes. The world seems to change, to shift just a tiny bit. Sometimes, that is the difference between struggling to stay afloat and moving on.
I don’t really have to tell you that I’m not ok. You know.
And you encourage me, you encourage me to believe.
Believing that life can be ok again is a good start, isn’t it?
Thank you.”

PEDRO L

A Fateful Drop

Nobu was a brave samurai warrior, his loyalty unwavering. He had served Lord Yamamoto well and was held in high regard by him and all who knew him. After two years away from home, Nobu was eager to see his wife and infant son, but before he could return to his family Yamamoto fell in battle and his army was defeated. Nobu survived but he could not avenge his master’s death. The bushido code demanded that he take his own life in seppuku.

As he drew his short-sword he hesitated. Who will take care of his family? How could he abandon them? Yet honor demanded that he do so. Should he drop the sword or drop to his knees and end his life? Nobu closed his eyes and said “Gomenasai.”

SERENDIPITY

When it came, it was unexpected, vicious, bloody and brutal.

The mercenaries I’d secretly trained proved to be a force to be reckoned with, overwhelming defences and rapidly taking control throughout the country. Any opposition was met – on my instructions – with ruthless and swift retribution. Many lives were lost and much blood was spilled.

January the first: A new dawn, and a new regime in power, with me at the helm.

Unfortunately, the whole thing was a misunderstanding – a terrible mistake, arising from my poor understanding of English.

It should have been resolution… Not New Year’s revolution!

ZACKMANN

“I will lose weight, become better educated, get a higher paying or most socially prestigious job, do more work around the house, and keep my car clean. I will buy fast food with younger son twice a week and buy him really cool Transformers collector toys to give as special occasion gifts. I will buy elder son’s girlfriend San Jose Sharks gear next Christmas. Sorry family, none of these work. I plan to keep with tradition of not making promises I might not keep. If I ever change my mind, I will definitely write my own New Year’s resolution list.

NORVAL JOE

Henry the red tailed hawk pigeon had no fear of competition from his old friends and family. They were as normal and ordinary as any pigeon could be–no goals for self improvement, no changes in diet and excersize, no new years resolutions.

While Henry had chosen to rise above his lot in life and join the ranks of the raptors, his former companions had done more than only declined thier chance at self improvement, they had designated themselves as his prey.

Henry’s new years resolution would be to show his former friends and family he was serious about his transformation.

TURA

New Year Resolutions
———

At the beginning of the millenium, I made some New Era Resolutions.

On Talk Like a Pirate Day, I made some New Yarrr! Resolutions.

When I went a bit deaf, I made a New Ear Resolution and got a hearing aid.

Last year I went wildebeest hunting. It was my Gnu Year Resolution.

Working in the civil service, every year I’d make a New Year Regulation. But as a card-carrying anarchist, I was actually working in secret for a New Year Revolution.

This year, I’m going to take up craft brewing. It’s my New Beer Resolution. Let’s drink to that!

PLANET Z

“The name ‘United Nations’ is oxymoronic,” said the outgoing ambassador to his replacement. “The only way you’ll make a difference is to prevent others from pushing a their barbaric agenda in the name of peace. And every time you try to solve a problem or fix an injustice, someone else blocks your efforts and claims that they’re doing the same.”

The ambassador handed over the keys to the office and a folder of draft resolutions. “It’s your problem now.”

He then headed to the airport so he could spend New Year’s at home.

Where was home?

Does it really matter?