Category: Weekly Challenge

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

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

MUNSI

My Favorite Quote

By Christopher Munroe

Ridicule is nothing to be scared of.

It’s embroidered on the lining of my suit-jacket, and I try to live according to the line to the degree that I’m able.

It’s from an old Adam Ant song, and while the source isn’t the most dignified to admit to, that doesn’t worry me. I have, after all, learned the lesson of the song well…

I live life free of fear of ridicule, as best I can. Always, and in all ways.

A point, based on how ridiculous you’ve seen me so willingly make myself, with which I suspect that you’ll agree…

JEFFREY

Exam Day
by Jeffrey Fischer

Tyler woke and realized this was the day of his big history exam. He was utterly unprepared. This will be a disaster, he thought. Sure enough, he couldn’t begin to answer many of the questions. However, he was confident he had done enough to pass the course.

When grades came out, Tyler received an F in the course along with a note that reminded him he would be re-taking the same course next year. He made an appointment to see his history teacher to beg for another chance.

Miss Fitzgerald wouldn’t budge. “As we learned from Santayana, ‘Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.’ See you next year.”

Tyler consoled himself with the thought that perhaps he, too, could become a famous guitarist like Carlos Santana.

For the Gipper
by Jeffrey Fischer

Frank was on his third date with Caitlyn. The two had really hit it off after a mutual friend introduced them. She was an older woman with a masculine physique, but Frank was no youngster, and the two could talk for hours on any topic.

Dinner went well, and Frank felt bold enough to ask her to his place for a nightcap. To his delight, she accepted. As the couple waited for a cab, Frank placed a hand on her hip, then let the hand snake southward. Caitlyn smiled – right up to the moment he grabbed her crotch and squeezed.

“What was that for?” the woman angrily demanded.

“You moved like a lady but a guy can’t be too certain these days. As Reagan said, ‘Trust, but verify.'”

RICHARD

My Favourite Quote

My favourite quote hangs framed on the wall above my desk.

It’s not what you’d expect – no motivational words, stirring imagery or perceptive insights, in fact to read it you’ll have to move a bit closer. That’s when people get a little bemused: “It’s just an ordinary business document”, they say, “a quote for something or other”.

At that point, they usually get bored and don’t bother reading the small print.

Yes, it is just a quote – a quote for the sale of the web domain I owned, to Google:

alphabet.com: One hundred, million dollars.

And yes, they paid up!

CHARLIE

THREE, FAVORITE QUOTES:

“The pleasure is only momentary, and the position is ridiculous.” My old pal, D., had this to say about sexual coupling. He is right. For the amount of psychic energy and cost of a dinner and a show, the output is far more than the input. The formula: PE+D^2(S)=O-P proves my point. D. is English, and doesn’t say much, but he might have said: “”There are a number of mechanical devices which increase sexual arousal, particularly in women. Chief among these is the new Mercedes-Benz 380SL convertible.” , but this is attributed to P. J. O’Rourke, not to my friend.

Second

D. came into the family room. His wife, Maureen was drinking coffee and looking lovely. D. looked uncomfortable, and tugged at the fly front of his jeans. “Damn Hotel Covell pants. No ballroom. ” The Covell was a vintage,, small hotel in the center of town, and did not have room for a ballroom. This struck me such that I remember this quip to this day. His wife laughed so hard she spat out coffee. D., as always, had a slight smile on his face as he always did when he realized his impromptu, but clever joke, was a hit.

Third

“An abrupt beginning is much admired, after the fashion of the clown’s entry through the chemist’s window…then whack at your reader at once, hit him over the head with the sausages, brisk him up with the poker, bundle him into the wheelbarrow, and so carry him away with you before he knows where you are.” H. G. Wells gave this advice about writing an essay. Surely, it is filled with surreal imagery, but makes the point about a writing a strong essay or a tale you might find on these pages. I’d like to hit all my readers with sausages.

TOM

A very lame title: My favorite quote

My favorite quote actually is one my own. It isn’t a famous quote, because I’m not a famous sort of person. My quotes tend to be uninflected juxtapositions. Sort of wibbly wobbly timey wimey. They graze across the head more so then drill down deep. There’s: The faces remain the same only the names change. And: I’m not leaving the room is staying. But by far the one dew believe will get me listed in Bartlett’s is a play on an already well known quote concerning the nature and place of humankind in the universal order.

Tool the Man User.

LIZZIE

“He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.” He carried this quote in his wallet. The tiny piece of paper had been folded many times. It was so well hidden that he had completely forgotten about it. He married, had six children and worked hard to raise them. He lost his wife and many good friends. He now had 20 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren. At his death bed, his surviving daughter asked “How did you manage to do all you did, Dad?” That’s when he recalled the quote and replied “Look around. I had a why.”

SERENDIPITY

Roosevelt famously said: “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself – nameless, unreasoning, unjustified terror”.

Well, Roosevelt was wrong… Fear is the very least of your worries – it’s what lies at the heart of that fear which should concern you: Peer into the darkness, lift the veil and there you will find me.

It is I that you should fear; and what I do that should provoke horror!

And, with understanding comes knowledge: fear does indeed have a name, it is reasoning, and your terror is completely justified.

The only thing you have to fear is…

Me!

TURA

Your favorite quote
———
Who said this?

“Love is the question. You are the answer.”

Gandhi? Mother Theresa? No, yours truly. The inspiring quotes you see online are mostly written by hacks like me.

“Life does not HAVE meaning, it IS meaning.”

“Your truest enemy is your truest friend.”

I sell these to greeting card publishers, self-help writers, and anyone wanting deep wisdom to decorate a web site.

Here’s my second favorite quote: “A mine of glistening jewels of insight, an enlightenment experience on every page.” That’s from the blurb for my latest book of quotations.

And my favorite? “Pay to the order of…”
———

NORVAL JOE

In 1997 the TV Guide awarded the 1975 episode of the Mary Tyler Moore show, “Chuckles Bites the Dust”, the #1 slot in their 100 Greatest Episodes of All Time.
Chuckles the Clown, the host of children’s programming on WJM-TV performed as several characters, one of whom was Peter Peanut. Dressed as such when acting as grand master of a circus parade, a rogue elephant attached and tried to shell him. He later died from his injuries.
Since that episode in 1975 I’ve adhered to Chuckles’s philosophy of, “A little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down your pants.”

Suggested prompt……..Don’t be a crybaby.

PLANET Z

Many years ago, a deranged candymaker muttered “So shines a good deed in a weary world” as he prepared to hand over his business to what he thought was a worthy successor.

A kid.
Okay, so he was an honest kid, but still, he was a kid.

A kid who had no idea how to run a business.
Suppliers, health inspections, labor disputes, and accounting meant nothing to him.

The chocolate factory went bust within a year. Everyone was ruined.

The candymaker’s arch-rival bought out the plant, automated everything, and hired Darrell Hammond to play the chocolatier in the commercials.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• Lizzie
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Anima
• John Musico
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

TOM

Predicting the Near Future

I am a devotee of Faith Popcorn the muse of the future perfect. I am the future. I embrace the deeper currents in Vox populi. It’s a level above seeing around corners. You see around corner that haven’t been built yet. Not an easy job letting your feet lower into the void counting on the bridge being completed as you arrive. When you Fire, Ready, Aim the world isn’t just malleable it’s damn Quantum. I’m seeing musical theater as the next Zeitgeist. To that end I am embarking on a visionary production. A music version of the move SAW.

LIZZIE

The Saw House

The “event” was that day of the year when the black house demanded feeding. They tried small animals and big animals; these always came back unharmed. As revenge, the house would draw people in. They would simply disappear, only to be spit out in pieces throughout the next days. The town learned. They started with the “As”, moving on to the “Bs” the following year. It was terrifying for everyone; for everyone except for 101010010. His parents wanted to choose a name starting with an “R”. They couldn’t figure out which, so… He was extremely fond of his robot name.

MUNSI

Saw

By Christopher Munroe

I’d rather cut my own foot off than watch the movie Saw.

I’d crawl through broken glass, have my body torn in two by elaborate spring-loaded apparatus, wake up chained to the wall and helplessly watch time tick away as everyone I’ve ever loved is killed to avoid it.

I don’t want to watch that movie, is what I’m saying.

I hate it.

It’s the worst movie I ever “Saw.”

See what I did there? Do you get it?

It’s important to me that you get it.

But seriously, fuck that film.

Ah well.

At least it’s not fake found-footage…

JEFFREY

Magic Trick
by Jeffrey Fischer

“For my final feat, I shall saw this lady in half!” cried the magician. Rural audiences were fickle, but the “cut the lady in two” trick always brought down the house.

The trick went as planned, the magician’s assistant appeared to be divided, but the audience was oddly quiet. Finally, one old codger stood and shouted, “You didn’t saw the lady – that’s wrong!”

A second stood and agreed. “You *seen* the lady. Get it right, Mr. Magician.”

The first turned to the second. “Naw, that ain’t right, neither. He *done seen* the lady.” As they squabbled, the magician resolved never again to take a gig with a local chapter of the Pedants Club.

The Scientific Method
by Jeffrey Fischer

I’d heard the old saw that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, so I suggested testing the proposition for my seventh grade science project. I placed a bowl of honey in one room of the house, placed a bowl of vinegar in another room, opened all the doors to the outside, and waited to see what would happen.

Every hour I would visit both rooms and carefully note the number of flies in each. In the first hour, I found two in each. Hour two: still two for vinegar, 27 for honey. Hour three: eight for vinegar, though I suspected several wandered from the honey room, 294 for honey, plus or minus a dozen on account of my forgetting my counting a couple of times. Hour four: maybe 15 in the vinegar room, thousands upon countless thousands in the honey room, and a painful spanking for me from my dad when he came home from work to a house full of flies.

CHARLIE

I saw what I wanted to see, and when I wanted to see it. When ready, I chose to open the visor and view what was before me. I could hear ambient sounds, filtered to an extent, and with focused receivers. I could navigate my environment using the sound alone. Last Saturday, there was a ruckus outside my front door. Some folks were arguing, swearing, and shaking their fists. I watched for two seconds, then closed the visor. I shut off the sound, turned on the display, and watched a cartoon, while people raged outside my door for two hours.

Second

My favorite old saw, one Jack Douglas coined, is to never trust a naked bus driver. I always volunteer this when anyone asks me for advice, regarding me as an “adult”, and a potential reservoir of wisdom. If you have any favorite old maxims, please post them here, or Tweet them. Folks will fall for anything, as attested to by the grunts and drivel of Hollywood flimflam artists, politicians, and people from England with lots of initials after their name. Another old saw is the worm drive, side-winder I have in the shop. I built a cedar shed with it.

SERENDIPITY

The old saw mill was perfect – abandoned, forgotten and away from prying eyes.

Although it did present some difficulties – I’m no expert, and it’s taken me a while to get everything running again. I hope you appreciate the effort I’ve made: It’s taken over a month just to sharpen the big circular saw… you wouldn’t want it blunt, would you?

You won’t feel a thing – I’ve thought of that too. Plenty of local anaesthetic, and you won’t even know when I remove your limbs.

There won’t be any pain. But, afterwards, you may feel a little sore!

ZACKMANN

“I saw you sister this morning and I think she might be irritated with me.” zack informed his wife.

“Why?”

“Well she came over for Miter Box I borrowed then I gave your niece cookies for breakfast.”

“Do you mean Cookie Crisp?”

“No, because the cereal vampyers drank the milk. Also because your sister is doing that whole natural foods thing and doesn’t want her daughter eating anything she can not pronounce. She could say oatmeal, flour, sugar, and eggs. I would have liked to have made her some hot oatmeal but it turns out she couldn’t say Dihydrogen Monoxide”

“I am sure I have cereal vampyres. What else would explain the disappearance of my milk right from my cereal bowl? Twice this week. I thought it might be the cat but it also happened when I used almond milk. I considered trying quinoa milk but remembered how it tastes with cereal then I feared that the vampyres wouldn’t show up that day. I told my wife I installed the mirror in the dining room to make the room look bigger. The cereal vampyers will think I can’t see the kitchen but I’ll be watching for them in the mirror.

ANIMA

THE ALCHEMIST

Robert hated his job as an alchemist. All the bitter failures. So what, if diet cola (with it’s new, better tasting formula) was not the elixir of life. Nothing ventured, nothing gained…

Last week Rob’s niece was visiting, and wouldn’t stop singing “Make new friends, but keep the old, some are silver, the other gold.” Hmmmm, Maybe it wasn’t base metals that should be turned to gold, but base people!

Tonight, his eyes glittered expectantly in the neon lights of the Dew Drop Inn. Rob pondered the old and new friends he was going to make… and designed new experiments…

JOHN MUSICO

# 100: I Saw the Golden Monkey

John plodded along on his old typewriter.
By far, the most challenging format for writers is the short story and of those; the “Drabble”; exactly 100 words.
Achieve that, and be the recipient of the prized Golden Monkey award. Deadline pressures stymied him at times into writer’s cramp only worsening the needed mindset to be creative. The weeks and months floated by, the image of the revered Monkey kept him going.
He had lost count so, one by one, he counted up his fruits of labor. Could it be? Yes, this is number one hundred- the Monkey was finally his.

NORVAL JOE

Rocky the squirrel saw it happen.
Natasha lured Bullwinkle out with a donut and Boris blew him up with a round, black bomb.
Social media judged the incident as reprehensible and flooded Yelp with one star reviews of the Russian Consulate. They plastered posters on the consulate’s gate that said, “Send them to Siberia” and “Die in the Salt Mines”.
Their vigilante cries for mob justice fell on deaf ears.
Boris said, “He was just moose and I am diplomat.”
The Russian couple mounted Bullwinkle’s head in their trophy room next to a small empty plaque that said, “Flying Squirrel”.

TURA

I saw the Devil
———
I went out to the woods one night
No goblins or bogeys can me affright
I looked for my cronies by the big oak tree
Then I saw the Devil and the Devil saw me.

“Yer mates have fled to their own front door”
says the Devil, “they’ll never have sleep no more”
So I spits in his eye and I says to he,
“You can scare off my mates but you won’t scare me.”

He showed me the tortures of hell fire to come
But I just laughed and the Devil was dumb
For the Devil looked within me and saw worse than he
When I saw the Devil and the Devil saw me.

PLANET Z

The prosecution’s case rested on a single eyewitness.
However, the defendant arranged to have a hit put out on that witness.
The witness survived, but they were blinded.
So, yes, the prosecution opened up with “Tell the court what you saw.” and everyone on the jury winced.
When the defense attorney began with “Is the prosecution seriously asking us to believe the eyewitness testimony of a blind person” the witness asked for them to speak a little louder.
“Why?” said the attorney. “You’re not deaf, too, are you?”
“It’ll help me aim,” they said.
And they shot the defense attorney.

Music: http://www.bensound.com/royalty-free-music

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• John Musico
• Lizzie
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Tura Brezoianu
• Serendipity
• Jerry
• Zackmann
• Bonchance
• Anima
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

TOM

Waits for No Man

When I Was young time moved ever so slow. Days piled on days. Seasons heaped on seasons. Hours creep at a maddening pace.

When I was in my prime time move were so swift. Days piled on days. Seasons heaped on seasons. Hour flew by at a maddening pace.

When I was old time moved ever so blurry. Days, Seasons what did it matter? Hours lost to the future, hour clutched from the past. All madness.

When I am gone time will go on just fine without me. Seasons will come, seasons will go. Days will linger, day will go.

JOHN MUSICO

When to die

When trees sway in the breeze,
that’s when I’m at ease.
When a leaf floats along a gentle stream,
that’s when life’s a dream.
When a bird hovers motionless in the sky,
that’s when I know I’ll get by.
When a quiet fog drapes the countryside,
that’s when I can bide.
When the stars wink like Christmas lights,
that’s when ends the fight.
When the moon is full on clear nights,
that’s when I’m alright.
When dawn’s first sunshine peer from the horizon,
that’s when naught’s surprisin.
When clouds drift slowly across the sky,
that’s when I now shall die…

LIZZIE

When the dancer moved her body sensuously, the crowd gasped. They were mesmerized by her beauty. She roamed the stage in slow motion circles, her arms contouring her breast and hips. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she had a small snake in her hand. The snake slid around her arm up to her neck. There was an odd look on the snake’s eyes, but then again, snakes always look odd. As the snake slowly wrapped around the dancer’s neck, no one did anything. By the time the police arrived, the snake was long gone. They found it later during the autopsy.

MUNSI

Trust

By Christopher Munroe

Never ask when, merely trust.

Trust that, when the time is right, the universe will provide you with all you need.

The universe, after all, is infinite, and as such so is its wisdom, so is its compassion. It takes care of its own and we are all its own, all part of a glorious whole, tiny cogs in an unfathomably huge machine of incomprehensibly profound beauty.

Simply be. Be part of that. And trust it.

Trust too that, when the time is right, I will give you my share of the rent.

No?

Fine, I’ll have it by Monday….

JEFFREY

First Draft of History
by Jeffrey Fischer

Thomas Jefferson had writer’s block. His draft of the Declaration of Independence was already late, and he was having trouble starting. He even told himself that it was okay to have a lousy first draft – first drafts were supposed to be bad.

“Dear King George, it’s not you, it’s us.” Nope, not quite the gravitas Adams was looking for. “Your Majesty, this is a breakup letter.” Blast! Well, time for a drink at the tavern, he thought. I’ll just go with my placeholder and see if the guys in Philadelphia can come up with something better: “When in the course of human events…”

The Agreement
by Jeffrey Fischer

Negotiations for the agreement with Iran weren’t going well. John Kerry had pulled out all the stops, to no avail. He even had James Taylor warbling “You’ve Got a Friend” to the Iranians, but they wouldn’t budge, possibly because no one could understand the old hippie. “What do we need to do to get this agreement done?” Kerry asked one evening after a long day of pretending to negotiate.

The reply was quick: “End sanctions now, give us our money back, and forget about inspecting any nuclear facilities.”

Kerry thought for only a moment. “Done. When I sell out my country, it stays sold.”

RICHARD

Say when

“Say when”, she said, topping up my glass.

Oddly, it was the very same question I’d been pondering in my mind all evening…

“When?”

How long had we been together now? Five years, today – hence our celebratory meal.

We’d skirted around the subject of marriage a few times; we both needed more time, and it had to feel just right. Although we both knew it was inevitable.

I watched her over my wine glass, radiant and wearing that quirky smile I’d first fallen in love with.

There would never be a better time…

“Sweetheart”, I whispered, “I’m leaving you.”

CHARLIE

When the dust settled, what remained of the dental office were dental picks, some scorched records, and a stuffed Cocker Spaniel. The Spaniel was a trophy taken by the doctor when he was in grammar school. The neighbor’s dog, coaxed out of the yard and into the brush was clubbed with his dad’s 4 iron and left on the street. Traveling to Africa and Eastern Europe to bow hunt rare game, he was able to achieve an erection for a month following a big kill, otherwise his member flagged and doctor dribbledick was a flacid personality with a corresponding instrument.

Two

When it comes to quantifying idiotic mouth dumps, Ted NoGent might be king. He wants to stick his machine gun in Obama’s mouth, and pronounces: “Vegetarians are cool. All I eat are vegetarians – except for the occasional mountain lion steak.” Nogent is a “super man”. I think he is a bag of dead, watery sperm. Kid Rock has had to push him away from him more than once when Nogent insisted on some oily coupling and roadies have been awakened on the tour bus by NoGent leaning over them, dressed in women’s panties and bra, insisting on man-spooning them.

Three

When pigs fly, I won’t be pouncing on stupid and insensitive people. When pigs fly, I’ll be some cloud of brown dust or a few clots of mud settling into the bottom of the Pacific. I’ve got a lot of opinions and harbor way too many ill feelings about my fellow man. Most of my wrath is aimed at pipsqueaks in the media and show business. I can carry a grudge for decades. I often rely on my heritage to conjure up some devastating curses to subtly rain doom and bad luck on my enemies and those that cross me.

TURA

When
———
Oh will you be my wife, my love
Oh will you be my wife?

Build me a castle fit for a queen
Oh then I’ll be your wife.

Here is a castle fit for a queen
Oh will you be my wife?

With a garden as far as the eye can see
Oh then I’ll be your wife.

Here’s the finest garden in all the land
With arbours and fountains on every hand
Oh will you be my wife?

When the sun goes out and the stars grow cold
And moths have eaten all your gold
Oh then I’ll be your wife.
———

When the aliens came
———
“I was hiking out here when I saw it. It came up behind that hill and stopped overhead. Regular flying saucer. Not exactly hovering, more like it’s nailed to the sky.

“Then another hiker arrives, coming the other way. Funny thing is, he says it came up from this side of the hill. Now there’s a puzzle. We get to the nearest town, and it turns out there’s thousands of them, all over the world.

“A day later, they go, just like that.

“So what’s that all about? Aliens show up, and they don’t even leave us a decent story?”
———

SERENDIPITY

I’ve been watching you… Very, very closely, for a long, long time.

I know all your routines and schedules, all your appointments and plans – every minute of every day.

I could be anywhere, waiting for you – behind that wall, around the next corner, waiting for you when you leave the gym or when you park your car in the morning at work.

So, be careful: keep looking over your shoulder, always be on your guard, and never doubt that I am near, no matter where you may be.

Just waiting for the perfect moment.

The question is… When?

JERRY

Spike
——————
I looked for Spike in the yard and did not find him.
I looked for Spike in the street and he was not there.

I ran to Dick’s house.
I ran into the yard. Past the swing hanging from the tree
but Spike was, according to Dick, not anywhere to be seen.

I ran to Jane’s house,
past the white picket fence
and through the gate.

Jane shook her head and turned away.

Even little Sally could tell me nothing.

All Puff did was rub against my leg and look up at me.

Maybe I should have named him Spot.

———–
When
———–
When you’re alone and life is making you lonely
You can always go downtown….

I was sitting in front of the TV alone
thinking how lonely I was.

Then I remembered Petula Clarks advice.

I jumped on my bicycle
and rolled ‘downtown’.

What a mistake.

A mile down the road it started to thunder and lighting,
And then the rain started to come down.
Not just a light spring rain but a Bombay torrential downpour.

I raced home.
By the time I pulled into the driveway
not only was I alone and feeling lonely
I was soaked to the bone.
———————
Kid
———————-
Everyone knew the kid was a champ.

He believed them.

Living in the city had made him what he was.

Big, mean, bullet headed.
Neck like an ox.
Shoulders like a six-by-six.
Biceps so big that he could not wear a store-bought shirts.

Tattoos down each arm to his finger tips with ‘Your’ on the knuckles of one hand and ‘Next’ on the other.

He was only 5 foot 10 but he moved like a mountain gorilla.

Then he met Wanda.

Wanda took him down without a word.

Just a gleam in her eye.

The kid was never the same.
—

ZACKMANN

When I go to the library I like to talk to the librarians and check out audiobooks on CD.

Drew likes to sit and read comic books. He doesn’t check them out because he hates to give back any comic book that makes it into the house.

Connie likes to check out novels, mainly Young Adult books or super sultry romances.

When I go with Kevin, oh wait I don’t go with Kevin, Anymore. He’s loud and disruptive also just like when he goes to hotel room parties, he doesn’t realize it is time to leave until the police come.

BONCHANCE

When young, he would concentrate on just one thing and everything else wouldn’t exist. It was said he would just “space out” sometimes. He snapped out of his reverie, someone was shouting. Ya gonna say when?? He looked at the full flagon then at the young man and said, “When”.
Simon stopped pouring the alcohol saying, “about bloody time”!

Glog downed the drink then stood up letting out one long belch of flame and walked out. An old man standing next to Simon shook his head and said son, you should know better than to waste perfectly good drink on a demon!

ANIMA

Charlie

Charlie’s a good old boy, semiretired, who has a habit of walking his dog to the bodega to buy beer and lottery tickets.

His wife harangues him constantly, for drinking too much, and wasting money on Powerball.

But Charlie liked playing the odds. By consistently playing the numbers for the last 35 years, he knew one day he’d win big, and you can’t win if you don’t play.

Last night, when he saw the numbers lining up on the screen, he knew it was time to call his buddy Vito to make a quick escape.

Bye Charlie! Drink in Peace!

NORVAL JOE

“You detect a presence?” Bufford asked the boy in the purple robe. “Of what?”
“Spirits,” Kid Gnocchi said, pulling a pendulum from one of his deep pockets which immidiately began spinning in a counter clockwise direction. The old woman poured dark green powder in the shape of a pentagram on the floor.
“There’s no such thing,” Bufford scoffed. “It’s dark energy.”
When the old woman finished her pattern, she said, “There’s no such thing as dark energy.”
“I will make the spirits visible,” Gnocci said raising his hands. “By the power of powdered kale chips, I command you to appear.”

PLANET Z

North Korea created its own time zone.
They didn’t want to share a time zone with Japan anymore.
However, South Korea still uses the same time zone as Japan.
So, when South and North Koreans work together in the industrial zone run by the two countries, they have no idea what time it is.
They work in a land outside of time.
Not in the past, present, and future.
Everything is in the NOW.
Which explains why everything they build there is total worthless crap.
I wouldn’t give it the time of day.
I’ll stick to worthless Chinese crap, thank you.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• John Musico
• Lizzie
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Anima
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

TOM

Just Doing Business

The Kid had no time for the simple courtesys of gangster etiquette. He did have a wicked sense of humor. He always asked if the mark had any last words, perhaps a short pray or maybe they had a reasonable counter offer. When the mark got the first word out of his mouth he would pop him in the eye. After word got out no one was willing to give the Kid the satisfaction of one last laugh on them. This when the Kid started doing hour long eulogies. Must guys would yell: Fuck You, at some point, then the pop.

JOHN MUSICO

Playing with the kids

In ancient Greece, for fun, boys would grasp the neck of a goat, occluding their carotids, and making the goat pass out. Sort of a dark choice for fun. “Carotid” is derived from the Greek word for “drowsiness” and stems from this mischievous practice. Death by strangulation is inaccurately depicted by Hollywood; suffocation takes minutes but ceasing blood flow to the brain takes a mere 10 seconds. The original Star Trek series was more medically accurate. Spock’s Vulcan death grip where a single carotid was compressed relates to a nerve reflex in the neck which pauses the heart, in seconds.

LIZZIE

Sound Stage 2 was a kid-free zone. The director hated children.
When he realized his main actress was pregnant, he started paying alimony but fired her.
Years later, a kid asked to talk to him. He refused.
The director was then forced to work on a show for children, go figure. Yes, the kid was 14 but he was the owner of the studio.
One day the director went crazy; he abhorred kids and he would have plenty of time to dwell on that, right after the trial ended.
The studio had become a kid-free zone again, that’s for sure.

JEFFREY

On the Job Learning
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Hey, Roger, what are you doing for ‘Bring Your Kid to Work’ Day?” Harvey asked.

“Hadn’t thought about it.”

“You have a kid, don’t you? Bring the little guy in, show him what a working stiff does for a living.”

“I’m not sure anyone would call us working stiffs, but… I don’t know. My kid isn’t all that well-behaved.”

“All the more reason – he can trash the office and make me think I’m back in the frat.”

“Well… okay. But I gotta check Metro regulations first. I can only bring him if they allow goats on the subway.”

The Joker
by Jeffrey Fischer

My colleague Steve was a joker who never owned up to his cruelty. “Hey, big guy,” he’d say “I see your folks killed the fatted calf for you.” Pause. “But you didn’t have to eat it all by yourself! Just kidding.” Or: “I slept with your mom last night. She told me I was so much better than your dad. Kidding!”

I complained and asked him to stop, but he fell back on the cliche about sticks and stones. Words couldn’t hurt, eh?

The next time Steve went on vacation, he mentioned he was flying to Cancun. I called the TSA anonymously and said that Steve had baggies of coke in his rectum. Totally untrue, but it took the TSA guys hours to reach that conclusion. My words must have hurt for a month.

RICHARD

Script for a departure [or, It’s not plagiarism, it’s art!]

“Here’s looking at you kid. I’ll be back!”

“You dirty rat!”

“You talkin’ to me?”

“What if is there is no tomorrow? We should seize the day! Don’t you want to take a leap of faith? Or become an old man, filled with regret, waiting to die alone!”

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn! I want to be alone!”

Tears… in… rain:

“Don’t cry, Shopgirl. Don’t cry. “I know now why you cry. But it’s something I can never do. Goodbye.”

“In case I don’t see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!”

Well, nobody’s perfect

[The dubious honours go to:

Casablanca (1942)

The Terminator (1984)

Taxi (1931)

Taxi Driver (1973)

Groundhog Day (1993)

Dead Poets Society (1989)

Inception (2010)

Gone With The Wind (1939)

Grand Hotel (1932)

Blade Runner (1982)

You’ve Got Mail (1998)

Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991)

The Truman Show (1998)

Some Like It Hot (1959)]

CHARLIE

“The Kid” was the consummate simpleton…attributed to a flaw in his genes, or his mother’s drinking and drug use while she carried him. He was pleasant and behaved, but very gullible and trusting. The perfect playmate, as his playmates succeeded in convincing him to take the blame for all the trouble and mischief that the gang managed to conceive and generate. As he grew older, he entered politics at the local level and did very well until the scandal put him in a federal prison for twenty years. Turns out, The Kid took the rap, intoxicated by all the attention.

Second

His dad told him to treat his girlfriends with kid gloves. Donald bought some fine, kid leather, gloves, and wore them his first day of school. The school was private, and sensitive to special needs students, so no one ever mentioned his gloves, believing they concealed some skin condition or disfigurement. Young Donald T. was very popular with the girls. They loved it when he stroked their neck or legs with his gloved hands. His pals thought it was creepy, but they were jealous of the admiration he got from the girls, and because of his wealthy and influential family.

Third

He kidded around with mates and teachers. He believed that his humor was a bit twisted, and anyone that gave his pranks time to sink in would realize that he was being very clever and ironic. Humor gone unappreciated or acknowledged is sad, and it eventually gnaws away at the psyche of the jokester or punster…as it was in Leslie’s case. Maybe his jokes and pranks were NOT funny at all. Maybe he was under the illusion that he was clever and funny. Maybe his friends played along with him because he was prickish and they feared or pitied him.

SERENDIPITY

Soft and warm: they really are the best ever.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to own a pair of proper kid gloves, but they’ve always been too expensive. Which is why I decided to make my own – although I never expected to end up running my own business off the back of them.

I’ve started diversifying too – now I’m manufacturing socks and scarves, and they’re selling well.

Business is booming, but I worry my raw materials won’t keep pace with demand.

So, I’m looking for a new school… And a fresh supply of kids.

MUNSI

Nicknames

By Christopher Munroe

I can’t help wondering about old western gunfighter naming conventions, sometimes…

I mean, for example, surely a gunfighter nickname involving “Kid” in any form must be something said gunfighter would inevitably grow out of, yes?

As he went from cowboy to cow-man, the Cincinnati Kid would surely become the Cincinnati Adult, then the Cincinnati Senior, who can safely be disregarded because he’s not as fast as he used to be…

Y’all’s old and busted, is what I’m getting at, Cincinnati Kid. Y’all’s old and busted and you ain’t got shit on me.

And yes, those ARE fighting words.

Bring it.

ZACKMANN

Thanks for the ride partner. Before you ask about the eyepatch which I wish it was in celebration of Talk Like a Pirate Day, the sad truth is I got in a scrap with a certain Billy the Kid. Billy had become addicted to old school Lucky Strikes. The day I ran out and gave him a Marlboro Red Billy spit the filter right into my eye. I’m go to the doctor to see if I can take off the patch then to look for a job without goats or at least a place that doesn’t use cigarettes as dewormer.

ANIMA

Second Skin

These gloves are nice, but won’t work for me. I have this terrible condition – I am hyperallergic to almost everything. Even lotion residue on people makes me break out in hives. It is truly awful.

Well, well! You should have mentioned this sooner. Try these here on for size. They are expensive, and I only have a few pairs left. They’re vintage; my uncle Gacy made them in the 70’s.

Wow, they’re great, like a second skin! What did you say they were made of?

Genuine kid. A pity, Uncle never taught me the secrets to making his signature gloves :(

NORVAL JOE

Several people circled around Bufford and Agent Aphasia who held the open container.
The crazy haired woman rearranged her tinfoil hat and said, “Give me the ghost reservoir.”
“Ghost reservoir?” Bufford asked. “It’s a dark matter containment cylinder.”
“Bring in Gnocchi,” the old woman called.
“No one here is hungry, you old bat,” Aphasia growled.
A boy wearing a purple robe with silver embroidered stars walked into the room, his arms folded across his chest.
“Kid Gnocchi is our most powerful medium,” the old woman sneered.
The boy raised his hand for silence and said, “I feel a strong presence…”

TURA

Kid
———
Good old Mr. Johnson, always the joker. He’d stand on someone’s foot and yell at them to get off his foot. Or he’d pour ketchup down someone’s back. Then he’d say, “Just kidding!” His grin would get tighter and his eyes would go hard and people would back off.

Eventually it came out he was keeping three women prisoner in his basement and living on their benefit payments. In court, all he said was, “I was just kidding! Can’t they take a joke?”

So don’t say to me, “Can’t you take a joke?” Because, no, I don’t think I can.

PLANET Z

They were the perfect couple.
Well, sort of.
She wanted kids. He didn’t.
At that point, they were going to be the imperfect couple or the imperfect family.
A counselor suggested a cybernetic child.
He didn’t want kids of any kind.
She didn’t want a pet, whether animal or robotic.
She wanted a child.
So, they broke up, and found others to marry.
She had a kid. He and his new wife didn’t.
The counselor didn’t get the commission on the robot child lease.
Eventually, the program was scrapped.
And replaced with kid gladiators.
They get awesome ratings on television.

Free background music from JewelBeat.com

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Tom
• John Musico
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Danny
• Zackmann
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

TOM

Promontory Summit

Six Pinkertons rode in the coach, at their feet rested the oak box lined in velvet. “Are thet really going to drive that thing into a tie? Asked Patrick O’ Connor. “Stanford won the honors in a poke game.” Said O’ Malley. “I’ll give you six to one he misses.” Said Michael Bennet. “I’ll give you ten to one he hit his foot.” Said Brian O’ Sullivan. They all started laughing, till the Captain enter the car, then fell silent. Captain dropped a double eagle into O’ Sullivan’s lap. “On the feet,” he said. Sure enough Stanford hit his foot.

JOHN MUSICO

John
Angel of Venice

Everyone knew Angel, gliding by on his rollerblades, adorned in an all white Indian wrap and turban, contrasting his African American skin, playing his electric guitar, amp in a backpack, while singing. He had that “not here-ness” that the 60’s acid days left some with. On the way to a concert, we saw him hitchhiking and picked him up. He played in the back seat all the way to his apartment where he reciprocated with a joint. It was by far the strongest weed I’d ever smoked. It seems that it wasn’t acid that fried Angel: the dubbie was dusted.

MUNSI

On the Topic of Spike

By Christopher Munroe

I hate to choose, but if forced to make a decision, my favorite Spike of all the spikes is Spike from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

You heard me, Spike from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but you’re just going to have to live with it.

You’re just going to have to be undead with it.

You’re just going to have to continue having no idea who I am, and not caring what my opinion on the matter is.

Yeah, now that I consider it, probably that last one. Never mind…

JEFFREY

Health Food
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sammy drove the spike into his arm and pressed the plunger. He waited for the solution to take effect. After ten years addicted to heroin, throwing away countless thousands on increasingly-cut stuff, he decided he needed to get healthy. His new dealer promised him this mixture would do the trick.

When, after a half hour Sammy still felt nothing, he concluded Pedro had ripped him off. Sammy found and confronted the dealer.

“I didn’t rip you off, man. You got exactly what you paid for.”

“What *is* this shit?”

“A mixture of kale and broccoli juice. It’s healthy for you.”

“Kale? Aren’t you supposed to eat it, not put it in your arm?”

Pablo shrugged. “I figured injecting would intensify the effect. The guy at Whole Foods agreed.”

“Just give me a gram of China White.”

New Job
by Jeffrey Fischer

When Tony played pro football – that’s the American game, listeners, not that other football where the modal score is 0-0 – he was known as a passionate, driven competitor. He played hard on every down, whether running the ball into the defensive line or blocking for his receivers, and he celebrated with equal gusto.

After his playing career ended, Tony took a job with the local Babies R Us store. His manager told him, “Tony, we want you to work here with the same can-do attitude you had on the field.”

Later that day, Tony made his first sale, a crib for young parents and their infant son. When the couple said they’d take it, Tony celebrated. The entire store went quiet.”

“Tony, what did you do?”

“It was my end zone routine: dance, point at the fans, and spike the ball.”

“For God’s sake, Tony, you’re not supposed to do that with the babies.”

RICHARD

#1 – Marauders

Every harvest the Dark Marauders come and we’re forced to fight for our livelihoods. Savages, they are; ruthless, without pity or respect for the law.

The elders gathered the townspeople together: “If the Dark Marauders act like savages, then they must expect to be treated as savages”.

It was decided that every marauder captured would be executed and their head displayed upon a spike in the fields over which we fought.

And so it has been for many years.

Yet still the Dark Marauders come.

And still we lose our crops.

And our supply of spikes is all but gone.

#2 – A date to remember

I’d been chasing Sandy for weeks – eventually she gave in, agreeing to a date, a quiet drink in the local pub.

Everything was going perfectly: Witty conversation, plenty of laughter and we seemed to connect, but I wasn’t taking any chances – when she excused herself for a moment, I slipped a Rohypnol into her glass.

When she returned, she looked at me curiously: “You’re not the sort to spike a drink, are you?”, I shook my head, “You won’t mind drinking mine then?”, she laughed.

What choice did I have?

And how did I end up in this gay bar?

#3 – Scientifically flawed

They told us the spike in temperatures was because of the Gulf Stream; when it became apparent this was wrong, they blamed climate change and global warming.

When people starting getting sunburn in the middle of winter, we knew something was seriously wrong, but still they fobbed us off, explaining things away.

When, finally, they told us the earth was plummeting into the sun and we were all doomed, it became apparent why the scientists had set up their community on Mars.

And they’d told us it was because of the low gravity and lack of light pollution.

Bad science!

#4 – Tom

I was going to miss Tom.

I wouldn’t miss the constant chases, the heart-stopping moments and endless fights, but I would miss the satisfaction of seeing the broom handle descend upon his stupid, furry head and watching him being kicked bodily from the house, with me safe in my bolt hole with a belly full of stolen cheese.

The Mistresses’ fat legs appeared and she called hopefully: “Thomas! Thomas!”

But Thomas was nowhere to be seen.

I gave Spike the bulldog a grateful thumbs up, he gave me a knowing wink, before returning to his suspiciously furry pile of bones.

CHARLIE

My friend Ted had a large, fluffy, behind. We teased him about it, but he said “You can’t drive a spike with a tack hammer.” It had something to do with carpentry or rug laying, I think, but I asked around and found out it meant something different…something a little impolite. As a demure young woman, my sensibilities were roughened and scuffed. As a teen, I suppose I was overly prudish, but the summer after my visit to a co-ed, church camp, I came to know grown-up things, and had my first encounter with a spike and some motorized tools.

My first drinks were untouched, but the third and fourth were spiked with some kind of synthetic, Chinese concoction that a biker slipped into my drink when I stepped out with my date, Irene, to smoke. My first reaction to the drug was an overwhelming thirst. I had two more drinks, both spiked by my date. The combination of drugs in my system seemed to cancel each other out, so by two AM, I was fully functional, but still thirsty. I was told I beat two innocent bikers and a librarian, unconscious, but I had no memory of an altercation.

The power spiked just as the runaway bus rammed through the tall pole at the bottom of the street. A crossbeam touched the high voltage line when the pole toppled. Dad’s oxygen generator blew him up like a cheap balloon. The buttons on his pajamas popped as his chest expanded. They flew across the family room, spinning and bouncing. One of them broke Gran’s glasses, and one hit the parrot in the kitchen. Dad was OK, but frightened. Mom was grilling a Panini, and as the surge struck, it burst into flames, spreading to the fur collar on her robe.

LIZZIE

When he entered the room, a spike through his chest, everyone thought he was joking.
When he collapsed in agony, everyone thought his acting was brilliant.
When a puddle of blood appeared, everyone said “He’s awesome with special effects.”
When he begged for help, the room was ecstatic. “That’s why he’s the best,” some shouted.
When he didn’t move anymore, a speck of doubt crossed their minds. It only lasted a few seconds.
When everyone left, the police received an anonymous call.
There was a dead body on the floor alright. No spike though. It would be a long night.

SERENDIPITY

The inquisition has many instruments by which we may extract our confessions… The saw, the screw, the rack and the brand – each lovingly designed to exact exquisite pain and supreme suffering.

But these all pale into insignificance beside the simple spike.

Such a versatile, flexible tool of the trade: An instrument of slow, lingering, unpleasantries, or – if you prefer – the short, sharp, bitter sting of retribution.

The spike is crude, but effective, needs no adornment or assistance… mere body weight and pressure will suffice.

Perhaps you’ll allow me to demonstrate?

Please take a seat.

It’s the one with the spike.

DANNY

I look in the pantry and find a box of generic Frosted Flakes. “Is this an accident?” I asked my Dad. “No, I bought them on purpose,” he replied. “You know Frosted Flakes are nothing more than Corn Flakes sprayed with sugar?” Dad shrugs. Then there was a spike in my thinking, and the lightbulb of brilliance went off in my head. “A hand held liquid sugar sprayer. You can spray sugar on whatever you want, corn flakes, walls, floors, ceilings, whatever you want to eat sugar coated whenever you want!” Dad looks at me, and says, “Your an idiot.”

ZACKMANN

“What are you making?” asked Joe.

“A whittle of nothing.” replied Charlie.

“That nothing looks like a wooden dragon maybe Rory from Nutty Bites.”

“No, it’s that one form Friendship is Magic.” said Charlie

“I don’t remember him having a long straight sharp pointy tail like that.” commented Joe.

“Oh, I’m making a few like this for a guy’s girlfriend. He said she needed them this way for work but I think he may not want to admit he is a brony and really wants them for himself because I have never heard of any women actually being named Buffy.

NORVAL JOE

“Open the container, Mr. Picklehacker,” Aphasia demanded.
“I’ll lose my dark matter,” Bufford complained. “It’s taken years to obtain this. I won’t waste all of that.”
“Open it, or I will.” Aphasia grabbed the release valve.
Bufford leapt, but was too late. The agent pulled away the lid.
Desk drawer slammed open, books on shelves flew to the floor, and lights in the room dimmed for several minutes before returning to normal.
The door burst open. People entered, adjusting their tinfoil hats and the dials on their recorders.
“Here’s the source of the paranormal spike,” a crazy-haired, old woman shouted.

TURA

Spike
———
“There never were ninja throwing spikes,” my friend told me. We were nine years old, and he was always saying that this or that was just a story. “People throw them on YouTube, but they’re just imitating the story.”

Apparently, Damascus steel was a myth. “Vanadium in the ore makes the patterns,” he said. “Doesn’t make better swords.”

“Sex?” he said. “Biggest fairy story ever.” He never explained, just said darkly, “You’ll see.”

Then he stopped coming to school. We were told his family moved.

That was a long time ago, but I still wonder what the real story was.

PLANET Z

Know what the greatest love triangle was in all of history?
Tom, Jerry, and Spike.
Yes, I’m talking about the cartoon characters.
The cat, mouse, and dog.
Who else would I be talking about?
Do you know anyone else with those names?
No, I’m not talking about our neighbors.
That’s Bob, Sue, and Ethel.
Besides, Ethel’s banging the mailman.
So is Bob.
I’m banging Sue, too.
You’re banging Bob?
What about the mailman?
No?
Darn. I was hoping you could get some cheap stamps or something.
Maybe if he gets tired of Bob and Ethel, I’ll give him a shot.

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

This is 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:

• John Musico
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Marsha
• Lizzie
• Jerry
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Charlie
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

JOHN MUSICO

The Fate of Intellect’s “Evolution”

They were from many light years away. Their brains had “evolved” to a level of logic where emotion was seemingly no longer useful and became atrophied, unavailable, in their ancient civilization.
Supreme beings, seeking to fill an empty void, though vicariously, came to Earth….
They watched intently, eagerly absorbed by what was once deemed a purposeless endeavor; emotion, and felt joy, once again. The visitors reciprocated their gratitude by using their godlike powers to aid mankind. They spoke to man, unseen, in a unified voice, as if from the sky, and were viewed as one being. Mankind worshiped their Lord.

MUNSI

Hospitality

By Christopher Munroe

I try to be a good host.

Whether I’m having people over for a night of b-movies and beer or an alien parasite has burrowed its way into my brain in order to control me like a puppet, I do whatever I can to make my guests comfortable. That’s just hospitality.

Some find this old-fashioned, but that’s how I was raised, it comes as naturally to me as breathing used to previous to finding that crashed alien ship out in the woods.

So, fellow normal human, may I offer you liquid? A beer-drink? Something to get you off your guard?

JEFFREY

Household Guest
by Jeffrey Fischer

The pain is with you all the time, day and night. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, tolerable if never fully out of your mind. Sometimes it’s stabbing agony, leaving you gasping for breath. Most of the time it comes as waves of torment, crashing against your mind’s shores, eroding your will to live.

My friend, your expression of sympathy suggests that you believe I am speaking of myself in the second person. On the contrary, I use “you” in its usual meaning. Ah, I now see understanding dawning. Don’t try to move; when the paralytic wears off, you’ll find yourself securely bound.

And remember: when I say “This won’t hurt a bit,”… I’m lying.

Part of the Hospitality Industry
by Jeffrey Fischer

Why, thank you, sir, for opening the door for me. You’re too kind. These little kindnesses are ignored far too often. Look, my bed is all made up, and I have towels as well. The hospitality of my host is unparalleled. I’m told there are exercise facilities on the premises as well. It’s the little things that make a stay more pleasant.

Why do I keep prattling on like this? Sir, you have your little fictions and I have mine. You insist on calling me a “guest of the state,” so I insist on believing that I’m being treated as one. May I see tonight’s dinner menu?

RICHARD

The Country Retreat

We were an eclectic group gathered together, as we waited to be called for dinner.

I glanced around at the guests – the major, all handlebar whiskers and ramrod straight posture; the haughty socialite, frostily eyeing her companions; the young married couple, utterly besotted, and the grumpy old dowager, frowning at having to wait for lunch.

All strangers: All anxious to be seated at the table.

At last, the final guest was announced, and the room fell strangely silent.

“Mr Hercule Poirot!”

Strangers maybe, but before the night was out we would become intimately familiar.

And one of us, would die!

MARSHA

NO TEXT

LIZZIE

John’s only grandniece had six children. At family gatherings, John was always somewhere else with his old buddies, a tropical island, a cruise, a religious peregrination. He wasn’t religious, but any excuse worked. This time, his coward friends decided to visit their families. So, when a choir of kids asked John why he looked all wrinkled, he showed them his gold teeth. “See this? You won’t get any. You’re out of the will.” Little did the family know that he had already spent all his money and that he had no intention of parting from his teeth, even after dying.

JERRY

Guest
————————–
They came early.

Now Roger does not mind when folk show up early for one of his dinner parties. Roger uses the term ‘bit’ to mean half-an-hour or so early because half-an-hour means that all the food is prepared, the table is set, and the house is clean. Most importantly the bathroom is sparkling clean and, if the need arises, his guest can eat off its floor. When the door bell rang Roger was in the shower and was not pleased that his guest were three hours early.

At least that is what he told the police when they arrived.
————————

TOM

Well Met on the Great Plain

Lindow Laxor was their guest, which meant the greater part of hospitality was due to him despite his habit of non-reciprocal return. He arrived with the first crush and bid us farewell with the draining of the last cask. The children found his talk of the Dunelands awe inspiriting. Grandma just as soon shoot him in the eye. So it was odd that as harvest approached no sign of Laxor. When the last cups of summer were raised we toasted his absence left a thimble aside in his honor. My family has been collecting Laxor’s Thimble for 600 years.

SERENDIPITY

I am the unseen guest at every dining table, the unwelcome visitor who calls in the night. I am the one of whom you do not speak, the one who lurks in hospital wards and loiters in dark alleyways.

I am the shadow on your lung, the faulty brake pipe, the falling branch.

I am the thin ice, the ruptured artery and the prank gone horribly wrong.

I am the fatal mistake, the sudden bend, the unexpected rip tide; I am bullet, bomb and burns, drugs, disease and disaster.

I am…

Death.

And I invite you…

To be my guest!

ZACKMANN

Some people hate having their in-laws visit. I don’t mind but I do hate all the extra cleanup and that we really have to clean up for the relatives who come from overseas. I can’t just shove stuff into the closet all Fibber McGee like when the pastor comes by since when they come, they stay for weeks. I actually miss having my father-in-law visit because as long as I made sure there were at least two beers in the refrigerator in the morning before I went to bed things would magically be fixed around the house in my sleep.

CHARLIE

Guests and fish start to smell after three days, so Babe made excuses so they would leave in the early morning of the fourth day of their yearly visit to the Burroughs home. Babe and her pal, Mary, had an odor about them anyway, and it grew stronger in time. Both of them were on a strange diet which consisted, largely, of grains and assorted roughage. When they sat on the patio or deck, the Burroughs always sat upwind of their guests, not letting on or grimacing every five minutes or so when they caught emanations of the silent winds.

Over the years, I’ve made every excuse I could muster to avoid having guests visit my home. The last time a visitor from two states away called while in town to ask directions to my house, I pretended I picked up the call on a cell phone in far-away Canada, saying I wouldn’t be home until the following Thursday, but pleased they made it to my special, little village. Next time, I’m going to say the house is being fumigated, and has a large tent over it, so we can gather at the local hotel if they insist on meeting.

NORVAL JOE

“Mr. Picklehacker. This is your last chance to share some information,” Aphasia said. “Unless you want to become a guest of our airport security cell.”
“No big deal,” Bufford said. “You already know it weighs more than it should. It’s dark matter.”
The agent narrowed her eyes at him. “It doesn’t look very dark.”
“It’s an expression,” Bufford said with a shrug. “Is it illegal to have or transport an unknown element?”
“It depends, Picklehacker. What do you plan to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” Bufford said and sat back with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll make invisible paper weights.”

TURA

Guest
———
The horizon’s just crossing past the sun when they show. Two people. Look like men, but that don’t mean much.

“We have come far, and are weary,” says one. Weary? They’re not even breaking a sweat. Must be packing some mighty fine implants to be just walking across the badlands. No stuff with them, not even guns.

“This shack ain’t no hotel,” I say. “But plenty of rocks to lay on. Be my guest.”

Well, there’s no fire from heaven coming down. Guess I passed God’s secret customer test. I didn’t let on, but the wings really give them away.

PLANET Z

I call it the spare bedroom.
She calls it the guest room.
The blueprints call it the basement.
The girl we kidnapped and locked up down there calls it a prison.
The cops called it a dungeon.
The media called it a slaughterhouse.
The prosecutor called it the scene of the crime.
I suppose we should call the girl the victim.
And me and her the accused.
Oh, and the cops, well, they’re still the cops.
But the media are jackals.
And the prosecutor is their whore.
Showing off for the cameras, as he runs for mayor.
God damned semantics!

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

This is 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:

• John Musico
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Jerry
• Serendipity
• Tura Brezoianu
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Munsi
• Jennifer
• Zackmann
• Planet Z

JOHN MUSICO

John
Hopeless

Dr. Analitico’s patient; Mildred, worried she was depressed. He asked; “If you won the lottery, what would you think, what would you feel?”
Mildred’s eyes took on a far away gaze; “Oh that would be wonderful; I’d get out of debt, help my kids pay for school as I always wanted to,
get a maid…so many things”. The psychiatrist announced confidently; “You are NOT depressed. The difference between depression and simply being bummed out is anhedonia: wanting is absent in true depression”. Mildred sighed her relief audibly and calmly told Dr Analitico she’s bummed she can’t pay for the visit.

JEFFREY

The Curve
by Jeffrey Fischer

Adam licked the back of his pencil. He needed an 85 on this test to pass his calculus course. Too many nights farting around instead of studying, compounding his innate lack of understanding of the subject, had gotten him to this point.

He flipped the exam to page 1. “Integrate 6 x^5 – 18 x^2 + 7 dx,” read the first question. He flipped the page back again. This was hopeless. He stood and walked from the exam room.

When Adam failed the course, his professor pointed out that an 85 still wouldn’t have helped. “Son, you needed around a 130 out of 100 to pass the course. You’re no good at calculus, but your basic math skills aren’t all that great, either.”

Hopeless Romantic
by Jeffrey Fischer

A hopeless romantic, Dalton always imagined he would find his soul mate if he just looked long enough. Unfortunately, Dalton was short, plump, and balding prematurely, with thick spectacles, and his idea of a suitable match was a willowy blonde with a million-watt smile and endless legs.

Dalton’s latest mission involved a one-named model with a half-dozen degrees to her name. When he made his intentions clear, so did she. Dalton slunk away, as he had so many times before.

A hopeless romantic indeed: he was certainly romantic, and he was most certainly hopeless.

RICHARD

#1 – Hero

It’s one of the great movie standbys: The hero, having succeeded against impossible odds, faces the final test of character and heroism – a hopeless situation.

Inevitably, somebody is going to die, and – equally inevitably – it’s going to be the hero. Sacrificing his own life for the greater good, saving the planet and the day.

I have to be honest, no matter how desperate the circumstances, you’ll never find me volunteering to be that hero. I’ll be the one keeping my head down, staying in the background and demonstrating no survival skills whatsoever.

Heroes die.

But I’ll survive!

#2 – Moment of truth

It was a hopeless situation – how had things come to this?

All eyes of the crowd were focussed on him, he could feel their gaze burning in to him, as a bead of sweat trickled slowly down the back of his neck.

So much hinged on his answer, and he had no idea whether this would prove to be the worst decision he would ever make.

The pressure was overwhelming.

The man stood before him, repeated the question, in a stern, imperious tone.

He responded, eyes clenched tightly shut.

“I do”

“Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife!”

LIZZIE

Hopeless Conversation

“Mary and Patrick named their daughter Joan. Joan married Anthony and had a baby girl they named Andrea. Andrea partnered Rosie and adopted baby Mary. Mary married Patrick; they had a daughter they named Joan. Joan got married to Anthony and had a baby girl…”
“Wait a second. There’s something wrong with this. Genealogy doesn’t go in circles. If you tell me their baby was called Andrea…”
“No. She was called Hopeless.”
“What a cruel name to give to a child!”
“Not at all. They were… hoping for… less… of a circular family history. Get it?”
“Jeez. What a dumbass.”

JERRY

A Hopeless situation
———————————
I play a lot of tennis: USTA matches several evenings each week, four-hour drill on Friday, and my Saturday Morning Tennis Group of 30 friends. I have several on-line MMOs that I do in the evening with friends that can’t survive any battle without me. My wife has stuff for me to do and then there is my writing. My blog ‘Lucky and Good’ where I write about economics and risk-taking, and of course the 100 Word Challenge. This is really a hopeless situation and sometimes I have to drop something. Sorry Laurence, you lost the coin toss last week.

FYI- I reminded Jerry that I don’t like to be mentioned in the stories, nor do I like meta-stories about trying to write for the podcast.

SERENDIPITY

“Welcome to the Anxiety Helpline – you will now be presented with a number of options, please select a reason for your call”

“If human contact makes you anxious, please hold to speak to an operator”

“If dealing with machines makes you anxious, please press one”

“You have chosen option one. Are you sure that’s the right choice? Press the appropriate key to respond”

“You have selected an incorrect option”

“Please hold”

“You a currently in a queue. Please hold.”

“Please hold”

“I’m sorry. We cannot take your call at the moment – thank you for calling the Anxiety Helpline”

TURA

A Hopeless Situation
——————
After weakening me with red kryptonite, my enemies had pulverised my body with a nuclear explosion, consumed the residue with molecular acid from a hive of xenomorphs, and divided the fuming remains among several nuclear reactors to be dispersed into deep interstellar space.

But Superman laughs at such material inconveniences! With subtle psionic tendrils I began slowly collecting material for a new body, atom by atom, hidden in a place I shall never disclose, lest my enemies in the past discover my words with machines that see the future.

For Superman, there is no such thing as a hopeless situation!

TOM

What Price Your Soul

Feel overwhelmed? Do you wonder it you can go on again day? Well we at Hopeless Situations understand. We feel your pain. Know that the answer does lie in wealth or fame or power. If it did you would have had lawyers, guns and money to get you out of this. No dear friends you are up to your eyeballs in fire ants covered in honey buried in the Texas panhandle. With one simple call to Hopeless Situations the unsurmountable is dissipated. The unresolvable becomes resolute. Our operators are waiting, should you be? Hopeless Situations a J. Faust International Company.

NORVAL JOE

“Bufford,” the agent said pulling her chair close to him. The scent of her perfume filled his head and he felt his reserve begin to crack. “This doesn’t have to be a hopeless situation. Answer a few of our questions so we can know you’ll be straight with us.”
“Play straight with me, and I’ll play straight with you,” Bufford said, leaning away from her. “You haven’t told me who you are, or who you represent.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting up straight. “My name is Aphasia and I work with the Bureau of National Despair. Now. What’s in the box?”

MUNSI

Hopelessness

By Christopher Munroe

When you’re feeling down and out, as though the world were hopeless, remember:

The world was here before you were born, and will remain long after your death. It survived ice ages, comets, mass-extinction-events, global warming and cooling, and through each crisis Earth abides, through each new crisis presented Earth will abide.

Earth will survive any trouble we will throw at it, of this I have no doubt, and it will barely notice your own private problems.

We simply won’t necessarily necessarily survive with it.

The world, my friend, is full of hope.

It is merely WE who are hopeless…

JENNIFER

Jodie arrived just after recess with her mother and the principal in tow. Standing at the doorway, the principal waved our teacher over. They huddled for a moment before he turned back to the class.

“Boys and girls, today will be Jodie’s last day. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about where you’re going and why?”

“Well, my mother and I are moving to the city. My parents had a big fight last night and now they’re getting a divorce.”

I sat, terrified, knowing that my mother was leaving my father next week for the exact same reason.

ZACKMANN

I can explain an equipment malfunction fire but I have to explain a big hole in the wall next to a door. Which will be easier than explaining the trebuchet. I begged my boss not to do what he did but he wanted to save money on heating and cooling as do I but I insisted the last thing you want to do is put a “Keep Door Closed At All Times” sign up in a room full of engineers because a door that may not be opened is a wall. I think I should propose a revolving door policy.

PLANET Z

There she was, passed out on the bed.
Drank too much. Or maybe it was the pills.
I poked her foot.
No response.
I tickled the sole of her foot.
Still no response.
She was breathing.
I turned her on to her side so if she threw up, she wouldn’t choke on her vomit.
I stayed up all night reading.
Well, most of the night.
I must have fallen asleep.
The campus police woke me up.
Someone had attacked her before I found her.
And thought I did it.
He wore a condom. No DNA.
No good deed, I suppose.

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Anima
• John Musico
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Tom
• Munsi
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Stoolie
by Jeffrey Fischer

Young Vinnie burst into the capo’s office. “The cops busted Joey,” he said, gasping for breath. The capo thought about this. “Joey’s solid. He won’t sing.”

Tony, the outfit’s lieutenant, said, “I dunno, boss. Joey’s looking at serious time, and he knows a lot about this organization. What if he cuts a deal?”

“Good point,” replied the capo. “I hate to lose Joey, but better not to take a chance. Vinnie, when he’s sprung from the joint on bail, outfit him with cement overshoes.”

Vinnie looked confused. “You got it, boss. But how are cement overshoes gonna keep Joey from singing? His voice ain’t in his feet.”

The capo wondered how much inbreeding had gone on in Vinnie’s family. “Don’t ask questions, just do it.”

Doing Time
by Jeffrey Fischer

When the police caught Big Johnny red-handed, he knew better than to sing. He kept quiet, was convicted, and sent to Sing Sing for five to ten. Big Johnny found himself sharing a cell with pro golfer Vijay Singh, who had run afoul of immigration laws. Vijay heard Big Johnny sing in the shower – Johnny was a natural tenor but an occupational accident made him more of a soprano – and suggested they form a quartet with Fingers LeGrande and an overweight female guard named Lulu. Their performance was a great success with the cons, who applauded what they thought was the last number and started to leave.

“Wait!” Big Johnny implored. “We still have one more number to go. Everyone knows it ain’t over ’til the fat lady sings. Take it away, Lulu.”

RICHARD

Rock ‘n’ Roll

Ringo was always my favourite Beatle – I mean, playing the drums is cool anyway, but the guy had balls too. Let’s face it, he couldn’t really sing, so when you hear his rough and ready tones on Sgt Pepper with the question, “What would you think if I sang out of tune?”, it’s an in-your-face challenge to which there’s really no answer.

It’s an inspirational moment – one that made me, and thousands like me think we could be as famous as The Beatles too.

Unfortunately, I really couldn’t sing in tune.

Or play the drums.

Or the guitar.

Ah well.

TURA

Sing
———
The musical artificer is famous for his mechanical birds. They are made with the preserved syrinxes and throat-parts of captured birds, animated by bellows and exquisite clock-work, to exalt their song above even their voice in life.

The most withdrawn room of his residence presents his greatest creations to his most discreet clients: simulacra of the finest human voices, the opera singers of living memory.

And when the latest star of the opera was found murdered in the street, her throat brutally torn out, those clients wondered only which of them might become the fortunate owner of her preserved voice.

LIZZIE

Singing and dancing in the rain was not his thing. However, he was tempted to do it anyway just to ruin his damn shoes, a birthday gift from his girlfriend. Anticipating something as catastrophic as a pair of bright orange shoes, he had told her not to get him anything. She insisted and the result was… catastrophic. When the weather got worse, all he could think of was singing and dancing in the rain. When he returned home with ruined shoes and a well-rehearsed guilty look, she broke up with him. Hah! She knew him all too well, didn’t she?

ANIMA

Hallelujah!

What was that?

Handel’s beatific chorus rose from Claire’s chest, startling her boyfriend. They were still figuring out each others’ secrets, and there was much left to learn.

That’s my heart, singing for joy when you said you loved me.

Does that happen often?

It is my special superpower – whenever I feel an upwelling of emotion, my heart sings.

Strong emotions get different songs, like “Happy” by Pharell Williams, or a gut wrenching Tori Amos medley. But, if you try to adjust the “tuning knobs” when she thumps out “Brown Chicken, Brown Cow”, I will break all your fingers.

JOHN MUSICO

John
Sing

Professor Tenacio, marine biologist, studying the songs of Grey Humpback whales, couldn’t quite place his finger on a sense of familiarity.
He applied scientific method to the query. Basics. Evolution. The most direct descendants of dinosaurs to this day are birds from which other species, including mammals, are derived. Birds sing, as do mammalian whales.
He manipulated a whale song recording in a myriad of ways. It was that at several fold speed; the singing of humpbacks was identical to the songs of modern days birds. THAT was the haunting subliminal association he made, way back when this project began.

SERENDIPITY

Grandmother used to keep canaries in a small gilded cage. I would tell her it was cruel to imprison them, but she’d hear nothing of it.

“Of course they’re happy”, she’d protest, “just listen to them sing”

Those birds certainly could sing, and though it broke my heart to hear them, grandmother was far too stubborn to give in to my pleas to free them.

“Listen to them sing”, she said.

So I listened.

And this was their song:

“Go into the kitchen,

and find the big sharp knife;

Plunge it deep into her chest,

and end her worthless life!”

ZACKMANN

We paid the manager then entered a portal into a new dimension. We were separated so I started to sing hoping she would hear. Monsters appeared all around me. I journeyed to a castle in the distance. Finally, I reunite with my sister who tells me we are in a world in which magic is based on musical ability. She became an elven princess when I nearly got eaten by orcs. Just my luck that when she sings it sounds like the curly haired Marx brother playing the harp but when I sing it sounds like Jack Benny playing violin.

“Can you pick me up from the BART train station tomorrow? I have an audition for a singing part.” said Dylan.

“Sure, just call me before you leave the city.” replied his father.

“You may have read the story the play is based on.”

“One of Stephen Kings?”

“No, it is a musical play based on Paul Cooley’s story Mimes. I’m singing Mimes Mimes Mimes for my audition. Does a musical based on Mimes seem odd to you?” asked Dylan

“No, I loved the musical audio drama version sponsored by Pondie’s Wieners brand all beef frankfurters and break a leg.”

TOM

With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me

He sang the body electric, turned the head and heart of a Dublin lad. In greater devotion to his mentor he created a beautiful monster. Some say Henry Irving was the inspiration for the Vampire, but I give you the following that more correctly points to Whitman both had long white hair, a heavy moustache, great height and strength, and a leonine bearing. Further, Dracula is the only character who speaks with a sense of rhythm, parallelism, and balance that is characteristic of Whitman. Stoker’s siren song of death singing through the ages. The armies of those I love engirth me.

MUNSI

Singing

By Christopher Munroe

Writing out a story

Singing what I’m doing

The prompt this week is sing and

So sing I’m going to do

Writing prompts in song now

This song won’t be long now

Can’t we get along now

I can, how ‘bout you?

I’m moving through the middle

Middle of the song

Yes this is the middle

Middle of the song

Moving toward the finish

Hope you like what I’ve written

But trust me; if you didn’t

I don’t even care

Taking this prompt meta

A little private joke-ey

What can you expect from me

When you make you prompt “Sing?”

NORVAL JOE

Bufford sat at the table, the collection chamber in front of him, his hands folded in his lap.
“What’s in the box, Mr. Picklehacker,” the agent said, leaning one hand on the table and brushing back her long blonde hair with the other. She licked her luscious lips. “We weighed it. It’s heavy–heavier than it should be.”
Bufford shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
She slammed her hand down on the table. “We have ways to make you sing.”
“I could sing, Sweet Heart,” he said in his best Humphrey Bogart. “But that doesn’t mean you’d recognize the song.”

PLANET Z

Before every major sports event, someone performs the national anthem.
Some do it well. And some don’t.
Oh, sure, some singers try to ham it up, and they look stupid doing it.
Or they forget the lyrics, and refuse to use the words on the scoreboard as a prompter.
The strangest I’ve ever seen was a man on a theremin and a woman using wine glasses.
It sounded really cool, until the woman spilled a wine glass on to the theremin and electrocuted them both.
Always use surge protectors, wear rubber boots, and ponder learning how to play the violin.

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

This is 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:

• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Munsi
• John Musico
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Spate
• Tom
• Anima
• Jerry
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

What’s the next Weekly Challenge? Come to the website and subscribe to the feed to find out!

RICHARD

Tramps

‘Tramps’ is the name of our local nightclub – I worked there behind the bar one summer and I learned a thing or two, I can tell you.

When the punters have left and the strip lights go on, you see the place as it really is: dirty, smelly, stained and tarnished by the reminders of a thousand wild nights out that are really best forgotten.

And the girls look different too when you’re sober and serving. Ignorant, arrogant, and loud-mouthed; they sprawl over the bar counter, all tacky make-up and way too much bare flesh.

Tramps. The lot of them.

JEFFREY

Riding the Rails
by Jeffrey Fischer

I sat in the Business Class car in the last remaining seat, next to a pungent gentleman in disheveled clothing. He explained that he was a hobo on his way to Philadelphia.

“A hobo? Aren’t you supposed to be riding a freight train?”

He waved an arm. “This is a lot nicer. I sprained my ankle hopping off a car a few years back and settled with CSX for two million. Now I can afford Business Class on Amtrak instead of a drafty freight car.”

“Seriously? You injured yourself while illegally riding a train and came out of it with two million?”

“I know. Ain’t America great?”

Middle-Aged Spread
by Jeffrey Fischer

The evening had gone well up to then, Steve thought. He flirted with the woman at the bar – he was pretty sure her name was Alice – and they left together, heading for her place.

Some kissing and fumbling later, both Steve and Alice – or was it Andrea? – were naked. She turned, and he saw the tramp stamp on her left buttock. It may have started life as a butterfly but now looked like Mothra. Ah, the folly of youth, thought Steve. His own tattoo was a snake that now looked as though it had eaten a chihuahua. He shrugged and returned to exploring the realm of Mothra.

MUNSI

Spring Break

By Christopher Munroe

Nobody knows how tattoo ink came to be tainted with hallucinogenic drugs.

Maybe it was a problem with their manufacture, or perhaps somebody thought it funny to spike them, but there’s no way of knowing for certain, now.

Anyone who might have had answers is dead, after all…

What we do know is that, during Spring Break, close to two thousand young women, fresh tattoos on their lower backs, were suddenly thrown into uncontrollable, murderous rage.

We did what we could to get away from them.

But by then it was too late.

We were caught up in the Tramp-Stampede…

JOHN MUSICO

John
Tramps vs. Cosmo girls

Chicks just don’t get guys.
Fashion magazine ice women do not appear on the cover of porn mags for guys. Fine, fashion mags are for women, but why don’t women get that when it comes to guys, the slut/wanting look is what guys crave hands down? It seems that the sad, for a guy at least, obvious conclusion is that; females value of other women’s opinion of them- is more important than what males value: yeah, gettin laid. So how ought we confused guys proceed? Accept that once a female feels accepted by her peers, THEN she feels sexy…you dogs.

TURA

Tramps
———
I remember tramps.

They dont exist any more.

Friendly figures, but scary too, outside the rules. Like clowns.

“Gentlemen of the road” was the expression. Now they’re “homeless people”.

You can’t wander the countryside these days. Stick to the cities, more people, a numbers game.

To a small child, tramps were part of the world. They featured in children’s stories. You never thought about how that really worked, any more than you would in a dream.

That’s what childhood is, a dream. Growing up is waking up.

Reality often sucks, especially for tramps, but I’ll take it over any dream.

LIZZIE

The grotto was pleasant. The two tramps, Roger and Romeo, had dragged a sofa and a few other commodities inside. With the fireplace in the center, the area looked homey.

Then, Romeo decided to bring a lady tramp to live with them. The altercations became constant. She worked at night, so she was happy not to have to take part in the quarrels.

One day, when she got back home, she found a note from Roger. “I’ll be back in a few decades. Romeo checked out, permanently.”

Roger that, she thought. It worked. She had the grotto all to herself!

SERENDIPITY

The tramps are coming, and you’d better look out!

They’re coming in their hordes, with their funny waddling walks, toothbrush moustaches, bowler hats and twirling canes.

They’re coming to hunt you down, to whimsically beat you senseless; to break your bones with their careless capers and inept tomfoolery; to hunt you down and mess you up, with eyebrows wobbling furiously and slapstick hilarity.

So run and hide, lock your doors and stay off the streets because the tramps are coming, and they will be the death of you.

And, if you survive the tramps…

Just wait until the clowns arrive!

SPATE

Tramps In The Future

She leaned in for a closer look. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “Hardly anymore.”

“Hell of a place for a piercing!”

Another shrug. “Seemed right at the time.”

“Yeah,” she smiled knowingly, “have ya seen my ‘seemed right at the time’?”

Not waiting for an answer, she whirled around and lowered the back of her
hospital johnny pants to reveal a faded, wrinkly, blue green splotch just
above the crack “Y” of her buttocks.

“That’s my tramp stamp but these fucking nursing home orderlies keep
mistaking it for a bruise!”

He laughed so hard his teeth fell onto the floor.

(music: “Gretchen’s Tango” by Ergo Phizmiz licensed under Creative Commons
Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England License / curator:
freemusicarchive.org)

TOM

The Spring was Brief, then Brutal

He was a child of the Prague Spring. Watched as his father fled to the Americas. As a young man he went Tramping across the Czech country side. Developed a deep interest in Steinbeck and the precise location of the frog incidence. Meet a fellow Tramp named Marta who shared his dream of freedom in America. They planned to hang glide into Italy, but in the end a college visa and a quick dash over the border was the easiest course of action. When the Soviet System collapsed, they returned home, but they was no longer tramps, she they were Americans.

ANIMA

Neighbors

Tramp tramp tramp tramp

Tramp tramp tramp tramp

There’s a herd of buffalo that lives above me. They have no consideration for anyone, stomping around all night.

When I bought, I had my choice of townhouses. The garden access was a lovely feature, but now I rue my desire for greenspace.

I called animal control. “Buffalo should be living on the prairie somewhere, not in the heart of downtown, right?” Apparently there are native American issues associated, and they won’t get involved.

So I’ve invited my friend Bill Cody to visit; he says he knows how to fix my problem.

JERRY

He came to our door one afternoon. His old bluejeans were stitched up many times and were darn near white from age.

My Mom was in the kitchen making supper for when Dad would get home.

Me, then a kid of about 10, ran to the door and yelled through the screen “Get out of here you old tramp!”

That was when mom whacked me up the side of my head from behind. She then brought the man some ice tea and a plate of food.

The tramp ate on the back porch while Mom taught me about respecting everyone.

NORVAL JOE

Bufford sat in a side room at Boise International with a variety of tramps, hooligans and other suspicious people. A TSA agent wearing a crumpled uniform, two sizes too small, stood at the door trying to look fearsome.
Bufford balanced the dark matter collection chamber on his lap until the door opened and two characters in black suites and dark glasses stepped in.
The one on the left removed her fedora, shook out her long blonde hair and said, “Mr. Picklehacker, please come with us.”
He tramped behind them to a small dark room with a single chair and table.

PLANET Z

Frank Sinatra sang lots of songs.
He also acted in a lot of movies.
But for all his talent, Frank never realized his full potential as a puppeteer.
He’s stay up late, working on his Punch and Judy act.
Except that it was more like Punchin’ Judy.
Judy Garland was his assistant, and the target of Frank’s frustration when things didn’t go so well.
She drank too much and took all sorts of pills, then died from an overdose.
Liza Minelli and Nancy Sinatra don’t talk about it at all. But you never see them playing with their dolls either

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

This is 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:

• Carol
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Jerry
• Serendipity
• Spate
• John Musico
• Zackmann
• Anima
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

What’s the next Weekly Challenge? Come to the website and subscribe to the feed to find out!

CAROL

I wanted to be a Wave. Thought my father would be happy about that – he had quit school and run away from home to join the Navy when he was 16 after all. He wasn’t. Said that all Waves were whores and forbade me to enlist.

So I ran away from home and became a mermaid. Now I sport beneath the waves, leaving him to his land-locked life. No regrets

But he was right about one thing – waves are definitely not monogamous. Any time, any breeze, any beach will do. And don’t even get me started about those white-caps!

MUNSI

Dancing

By Christopher Munroe

I’m not too old to hit up a nightclub.

I mean, an alternative club, and basically only on retro night every other week, but still, proof of concept. I can still go dancing, and by god I do!

Scene kids in our thirties, now, enjoying one another’s company in impeccable style, soundtracked by the goth/indie tunes of the ‘80s and 90s, and fun is had every damn time.

It’s an important part of who I am.

And when the Pixies play, you better believe I’m on the floor…

On a wave of mutilation.

Wave of mutilation.

Wave of mutilation.

Wave…

JEFFREY

Catch a Wave
by Jeffrey Fischer

Casey paddled away from shore, his surfboard in hand. He had seen the guys surfing on the beach, and they all had hot, bikini-clad girlfriends who laughed a lot. Surfing didn’t look very hard, and Casey wanted a hot, laughing, bikini-clad girlfriend, so he waited for the right moment to impress.

A monster wave was starting to crest. This was it! Casey balanced on the board and let the water move him. In an instant, he fell, tumbling again and again in the water until he surfaced on the beach. He felt very proud of himself.

The bikini-clad girls were laughing, which was good. Only then did he realize he had lost his swim suit some time ago.

Safe Space
by Jeffrey Fischer

The seminar participants were very brave to sit through twenty minutes in which a cisgendered straight Caucasian explained to them that carrying around a mattress on campus was not actually performance art. The only way this could have been more traumatic would have been if the speaker were male. Male privilege was the *worst*. Well, white male…well, straight white male… Oh things got confusing quickly. Anyway, despite the multiple trigger warnings before and during the talk, some of the womyn needed a safe space to calm down. When the Womyn’s Center facilitator said there would be coloring books and videos of frolicking puppies, the audience waved, because clapping was triggering for some.

And so went another day at day care for twenty-somethings, also known as college.

RICHARD

One pint of beer

All it takes is one pint of beer – it really doesn’t matter what sort or which brewery, it doesn’t even have to be artisan beer, any old cheap brew will do.

You don’t need pretzels, snacks, a party atmosphere or the company of any friends to share the moment… just a pint glass, brimming with cold beer.

That, along with a single, momentary lapse of judgement, and maybe a brief, thoughtless, uncoordinated wave of the hand…

Hand: meet beer.

Beer: meet high tech, high spec, top of the range laptop computer.

And you can just wave that expensive laptop goodbye!

LIZZIE

Waving energetically didn’t solve her problem. She tried whistling and even throwing stones. Nothing. She lifted the axe from the floor and swung it over her shoulder.

A man approached quickly and tried to take the axe away from her. “What on Earth, lady!”

“What on Earth?! Just get off my lawn! Don’t you see the sign?!”

He hadn’t seen it, considering the puzzled look on his face. Well, it was too late now.

The sign read “Stay off my lawn or I’ll chop your head off.” Yep, getting all those words on such a small sign was a pain.

TOM

And that is all I have to Say about That

Timmy waved to the cars passing by. Sometimes they’d slow down and wave back. It didn’t matter the weather or temperature. Timmy would be comfortably seated in the rainbow lawn chair, smiling and waving. His sister had taught him how to do the: “prom queen on a float wave” so he wouldn’t tire himself out. Sometimes someone from the church would stop the car and come up on the porch. Timmy would pour them a lemonade and wave when they got back in their car. Timmy doesn’t sit on the porch any more, but people still drive by and wave.

JERRY

Ounce – 2015-06-18
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Now and again I don’t see the need to follow directions. I don’t mean things like “to get to 1720 Westlake Road go North 10 blocks and then turn left”. You will find me following those kinds of directions precisely. Sometimes, when I am cooking, I will fall off the direction wagon because somethings look so good. Say that the recipe calls for a cup of chopped onions or seven sliced cumquats. I may add a little more. Last night, after the doctor pumped my stomach, he said that my using 16 ounces of Habanero may have been too much.
——————
Wave 2015-06-18
——————
Last week I was out at the lake with the blue sky over head putting around with my little dinghy and everything was so perfect and was going so grand that I did not want it to ever stop. I was deep in the throes of a great, near faultless ride. The feeling was one of exhilaration, inner peace, physical completeness, that feeling of being surrounded by the warmth of true love in a wet and slippery environment. It was taking my breath away. I was riding the final wave when my wife walked in on Linda and me. Dang.

SERENDIPITY

Isn’t technology wonderful? It opens up a whole world of possibilities… I call them techno-pathogens.

Whilst the world is obsessed with computer viruses, I’ve been working away with real ones, digitally distributed and delivered directly to the unfortunate recipient.

Absolutely deadly, but not exactly silent.

You see, my viruses are hidden in music – the sort that gets inside your head and won’t go away: earworms that you hear once, then hang around for as long as it takes for the infection to gain hold.

Pathogens buried in the wave forms of sound itself – music to my ears.

SPATE

Everyday

Everyday I make the Post Office run. Everyday I see him on the corner. He’s
younger than me but not much, with long hair held back by grease; an
untucked tattered work shirt; dirty worn jeans that confuse sight with
smell.

Regardless of weather, he’s there, always wearing that sad smile, purposely
making eye contact with the driver of each car and giving each a personal
wave.

Some say mental illness. Some say drugs. Some that he’s been touched by God
and can connect with the soul of anyone he meets.

Me? I wave back. and go get the mail.

JOHN MUSICO

John
Wave

Hand waving reminds us of our territorial warring past. As a tribe approached our village, before they got too close; you’d wave your arm; “Whoaa, this place is ours”. If they proved friends, they’d get waved in. The handshake is a related, also dark gesture: “See, I hold no weapon”. Waving goodbye is a blend of the two. Communicating from afar as the boat sails off further; that weaponless, we two have been friends. The salute also goes back to our warlike nature. Lifting one’s armor visor to show your smiling not scowling face- one of the good guys.

ZACKMANN

I was in the bank getting some fees waived because sometimes all you have to do is ask. Mike my friend from tech who was in a New Wave band waved at me. When we were in electronics class Mike could whistle a perfect sine wave for the oscilloscope. Mike greets me with “Your mother wears army boots.” To which I could only respond “You watch too much Bugs Bunny cartoons. Besides that was my grandma and it was navy boots. She was in the WAVES.”

I’d like to go on Mike’s band cruise but ocean waves make me seasick.

ANIMA

The Great Wave of Kanagawa

For the past 10 minutes I have been looking at this amazing Japanese print.

3 boats plow the trough of a giant wave; In the distance, Mt Fuji.

Are the sailors scared? Jacked on adrenaline? Praying? Do their families worry when the fishing fleet goes out?

Mt Fuji peeks through – my mind wanders in a different direction.

At the base of the mountain lies Aokigahara, the Sea of Trees. Is there a widow wandering the Suicide Forest, about to suffer the same fate as her fisherman, drowning in a wave of grief?

Maybe I should mediate on cherry blossoms …

NORVAL JOE

Bufford thanked the Swiss man for his input with a smile and a wave and waited for him to disappear into the woods. Giggling, he gathered his pump, hoses and other apparatus, and loaded the collection chamber into a wheelbarrow.
Maybe it was only confirmation bias, but the chamber felt like it was more massive, even twice the expected mass. He shipped the equipment back home, but hand carried the chamber on the plane. On his flight back to Idaho he imagined the experiments he would perform. First he would determine if dark matter was made of particles or waves.

TURA

Wave
———
—I’m starting up a new business!

—Oh yes, what’s the business?

—I’ve invented a machine for creating the very best waves for surfing, anywhere there’s enough water. I can turn any beach, anywhere in the world, into a top-class surfing resort! No more hanging around waiting for the cry of “Surf’s up!” The surf will always be up! The pièce de résistance, though, is a gigantic pool shaped like a ring, with a wave breaking endlessly round and round. You’ll be able to surf a cylinder wave all day long!

—What are you calling it?

—“The Wave of the Future”!

PLANET Z

Is light a particle, or is it a wave?
Well, in some conditions, it acts like a particle.
And under other conditions, it acts like a wave.
Then there’s the times that light acts like a total dick.
Light never puts down the toilet seat.
And uses up all of the hot water when you want to take a shower.
Of course, it always borrows the car when you’re late for work.
Worst of all, there’s that damned light bill to pay every month.
I’m going to newspaper the windows, buy heavy drapes, and kill this son of a bitch.