Weekly Challenge – Page 60 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #454 – Value

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: VALUE

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of PIRACY. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JEFFREY

Naughty or Nice
by Jeffrey Fischer

Santa Claus used to give naughty kids a lump of coal in their stockings. Despite increasingly stringent environmental restrictions, coal was pretty valuable these days, and Santa worried that kids weren’t hearing the message when they received a lump of something of value. He mused over his problem before the solution hit him. An evil grin formed on his face, frightening the elves.

That Christmas, millions of naughty children awoke early and eagerly raced to open their presents. The naughty ones saw a CD-shaped bulge in their stockings. When they reached in, however, all they found was an installation disc for AOL version 5.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 87: Watched

The most disturbing thing about the images that George was viewing was that the most recent was taken less than a couple of hours earlier… Someone had been watching him all this time.

Angrily, he shouted out: “Who the hell are you? Why let me suffer like this, where’s the value in that?”

No answer.

Fuming, George returned his attention to the computer, scanning rapidly through the other candidate’s files – three in particular caught his attention: folders with fewer images than the others and all sharing a common final image.

The ‘candidate’ sitting alone beneath a sign: ‘Waiting Room’

#2 – Priceless

“Of course, I’d never sell it” – the biggest lie you ever hear on the ‘Antiques Roadshow’.

Of course they’d sell it!

You watch them sitting, nodding politely as the expert tells them the history and background to their piece, when all they’re interested in is the value. You can almost hear them screaming internally: “Shut up about the outstanding filigree work and tell me how much the damn thing is worth!”

If I was an antiques’ expert, I’d tell them it was a cheap imitation, then rescue it from the trash after they dumped it.

Then I’d sell it!

JOHN MUSICO

John Musico
Values

Fred lived in New York and was a looser. The T.V. commercials made clear slender is beautiful but his wife was fat.
A winner has places to go, people to see; fast movers and shakers. Fred moved real slow and wished lunch breaks were longer.
No one at the office liked him. No surprise he got transferred to another branch, as far away as possible- the one in Mexico.
In Mexico, men with skinny wives were presumed poor providers and were ashamed. Living life is what is most valued. Lunch breaks were two hours. Fred was never a happier camper.

Value

Marty was a very young man, and “The Old Man” next door was as wise as he was old: he was very old.
Marty would stop off whenever he needed advice. Marty’s marriage was on the rocks. The young newlywed decided if he could just force his wife to kiss him good morning, and she did for a long enough time; all would be fine. The Old Man’s face went solemn; “Young man, forcing behavior isn’t the same as one choosing that same behavior. Sincerity is what gives an act value, substance, meaning. That kiss, son; is a meaningless kiss.”

ANIMA

Platinumlocks

(door knocks)

Who you?-

Hi, my name is P, …I came to make amends… 10 years ago I took some things I shouldn’t have… wrecked some things…

Yeah, I remember you. You’re the bitch that came in like she own the place. Broke my mama’s heart. Folks ain’t around anymore, so I guess I’ll have to accept your apology – Your values change any as you grew up?

…yes, my teen years were rough, but I am in a program now…

Well, mine haven’t –

And with that, Baby Bear bit Platinumlock’s head off. No change in haircolor was going to convince him.

SPATE

New Jersey Revisited

We all have our passions; those inner demons that persistently tug on our
souls to follow them to places we know we should not go. Thus it was so.

Driven by hunger, by thirst, to this turnpike exit, I stood amidst the odor
of grease and disinfectant to bargain with the beast; his florescent lit,
pus ridden face sneering down at me while he rubbed his palms together in
fly like anticipation. What price would bring him my soul?

I swallowed the last of my dignity and spoke first:

“I’ll have the number two value meal. with diet Coke. Please.”

(music: “A Microtonal Tapestry for Chad” by Andrew Bisset / CC by-SA 3.0 /
revised by the addition of the familiar but distorted jingle at the end)

SERENDIPITY

“How much do you value your life?” I asked him, holding the gun to his temple.

“What if I let you go, but take your wife’s life instead… or perhaps I should shoot this total stranger in your place?”

The woman whimpered and the strangers’ face turned white.

“Or perhaps you’d prefer to fire the fatal shot yourself?”

“So, your life, or your companions’? Whose has the greatest value?”

“Please let us go”, he whispered.

We came to a stop and the doors slid open.

“If you insist”, I replied, leaving the elevator.

“But next time, please take the stairs!”

MUNSI

Family Values

By Christopher Munroe

Everyone talks about family values, but what’s the true value of a family?

I mean, father, mother, two or three kids, say two for the sake of argument, that’s four transplantable hearts total, eight lungs, four livers, endless yards of usable intestine, to say nothing of the kidneys, the bone marrow, the retinas. It adds up, but to what?

What’s the family value, what is it truly?

You might already know. I don’t.

But I will.

Soon.

I know a guy who knows a guy.

And I’ve kidnapped a family, and soon, I will know its true value.

Minus commission…

TOM

Fundamentally Different Things

When I was an Algebra tutor the hardest part of my job was shoving 60 minutes of explanation into a 20 minutes session. To accomplish this I had to come up with a General Formula for word problems. Further I had to demonstrate it in a way that would dispel all resistance. I figured the best way was to solve 15 problems simultaneously. Across three sheets of paper I wrote the following

V(T) + – V(T) = TV

Had the students identify the Amounts and Values, do the computations, out popped 15 answers in 14 minutes.

Order out of chaos.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 83

The Doctor handed Sparky his Tricorder. “Reset the Array Function.” Sparky popped the back off and set two probes to the internal circuits. Smith was also busy resetting Dino Mod. “Access security files 1066 to 1963.” Banister was having a quiet conversation with the Duke. Which left Timmy to ponder the glowing bread box in front of him. ”Doctor we got values off the chart,” yelled Sparky. “Doctor we got a problem,” yelled Smith. “DOCTOR GRAB TIMMY.” Yelled Banister. Something had compelled the lad to reach out for the box.

“It’s calling,” said Tim

And he was gone.

TURA

Value
——–
My car was beginning to cost too much to maintain, so it was time to scrap it. Three scrap dealers all said the same thing, “No value left in a 12-year-old Skoda, but I’ll take it off your hands for nothing.”

I pulled out the radio and the radiator to sell on eBay. I kept the toolkit that came with the car. Siphoned out nearly all the petrol. The tyres were pretty fresh, but I’ve a friend in a garage who helped me swap them for bald ones.

Yep, I made damn sure there was no value left in it.

CLIFF

The new boss wanted to chat with me.

“The workers on the floor add value to our company by putting products together. The dock workers pack up the products and load them on the trucks and the drivers deliver stuff to the stores. The salesmen, the IT guys, even the janitor adds value in their own ways. You, on the other hand, sit in your office playing on the internet. Your job title is Bureaucratic Assurance. What does that even mean?”

“It means I bribe the federal inspectors to let our defective products get sold. Any more questions?”

There weren’t.

NORVAL JOE

Elroy couldn’t help himself, he was obsessive. He could never resist a good value.
He only shopped at Costco and the dollar store.
His children tried to have him declared mentally incompetent before he spent the balance of their inheritance.
“Their inheritance,” he scoffed. “I earned the money, made my purchases wisely and squirreled it all away, year after year.”
Using a case of macaroni and cheese for a chair and boxes of paper towels as a desk he wrote out a check for every penny of his savings and bought the Brooklyn Bridge at one tenth of its value.

JESSICA

Valuable
By: Jessica Quin

Julie heard the fireworks outside. The neighbors were celebrating the New Year and their whistles and shouts made her sadder than she’d expected.
Recently she had come to realize how much she missed her family.
Her mother cried that first year she didn’t show up for the holidays.
Julie worked hard to make a living and it took all of her time, but when money became scarce, so did jobs, including hers.
Her family soon moved away, leaving Julie to live life as she pleased.
Julie regretted giving more importance to work and not to what should’ve been most valuable.

Value
By: Jessica Quin
Birdie watched as people passed her by.
Some ignored her, while others wrinkled their noses at her.
She no longer wanted to feel worthless.
Okay so, maybe she wasn’t the prettiest and her clothes were old. Yes, maybe her hair was slightly unkempt,
but she knew she could mean something to someone. She couldn’t understand why others couldn’t see her worth.
Then, one day everything changed.
The tall beautiful lady opened the glass door and gently lifted Birdie.
“She’s beautiful.” she mused.
She looked at Birdie’s wrist-tag.
Porcelain
Hand-made in France
500 thousand dollars
“I’ve wanted you my whole life.”

LIZZIE

The Value of Time

When Mary left, she hinted something about the box especially that he shouldn’t open it. Obviously, Louie decided to open the damn box. Last time he found one, it contained thousands in diamonds that someone left in the attic of their new house. After hours of failed attempts to pick the lock, he felt totally inapt. Mary loved that. Hammering the box open seemed like the only option. Louie hit it a few times until the lid popped. Inside, a note. “You made it! Oh, by the way, I’m several hours ahead… with the diamonds. Catch me if you can!”

PLANET Z

Most kings had royal executioners to dispatch enemies of the crown.

King Alphonse thought that executioners were barbaric.

So, he hired a royal hugger to hug all friends of the crown.

Alphonse imagined that the hugger would be a kindly, grandfather-type of person.

Instead, union rules dictated that the executioner get the job.

He wasn’t a kindly, grandfather-type persion.

He was a large, scary monster of a person.

And he tended to crush the ribs of the people he hugged.

“It’s just not working out,” said King Alphonse. “You’re fired.”

Alphonse offered his hand.

But the executioner hugged him instead.

Weekly Challenge #453 – Underground

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: UNDERGROUND

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of VALUE. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JOHN MUSICO

Underground
by John Musico

Evolution forces burdened species to find an unused niche with no competition when they get elbowed out by existing competitors.
The density of animals on earth had become critically overpopulated.
The number of square miles of land on our planet; pales in comparison to the many layers of the land below the surface.
Consequently, many species moved underground.
Random mutations in their offspring; either disfavored their survival, or favored it.
Any species with deformities that favored digging skills, or smelling food through miles of tunnels, and the like: survived.
Their offspring were as their evolved adapted parents; and they flourished, wildly….

MUNSI

On Zombie Preparedness

By Christopher Munroe

I’ve always been old-school, that way.

Even before the dead rose from their graves and started shambling across the countryside looking to sate their hunger for flesh, I was at the cemetery every weekend, looking over the tombs.

A bunch of us went, we’d drink wine, write poetry, and discuss what we’d do in the event of actual zombie apocalypse.

People mocked us, called us freaks, but once the graves started opening up again we knew we were the only ones who were ready.

I guess you could say: I’ve been into zombies since back when they were still underground…

JEFFREY

The Commute
by Jeffrey Fischer

I find my usual seat, start a podcast, and wait for the ride to be over. The subway – “the Underground,” as those descriptive British call it, though their system finds its way above ground – is a reasonably comfortable and efficient way of getting to work. Plus, there’s the freak show.

The girl across the way, furtively sipping her Frappucino next to the “no eating or drinking” sign; the guy toying with his cigarette, waiting impatiently to leave the car so he can light up; the woman on the phone, arguing with her boyfriend for all of us to hear; and the man in his underwear, carefully donning his suit and tie as he nears his station – it’s a wonderful cross-section of the weirdos in society, and it makes me want to drive myself to work.

The Artist
by Jeffrey Fischer

Karen met Frank in a noisy bar that played far too much bro country for her tastes. It was a strange place to find a nice guy, but the two of them hit it off right away. Part of Karen’s attraction was that Frank described himself as “an underground artist.” She had visions of being taken to boutique galleries, and smoky (but trendy) clubs. Perhaps he was a graffiti artist, plying his trade on walls in sketchy parts of town – he might even be the next Banksy! she mused.

They exchanged numbers and promised another date. But when Karen went online to look up Frank, she found he was a grave-digger. She debated switching bars and avoiding him, but summoned the courage to confront him about his lie. “It’s no lie, darlin’,” he said. “My graves are the tidiest around. I’m an artist, and I work underground.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 86: Data

George didn’t really know what he’d expected – he’d hoped the computer might provide a portal to some underground organisation with clandestine goals, but he found himself presented with a desktop little different to those seen in millions of offices across the world.

Digging a little deeper provided more interesting results – a set of numbered folders corresponding to the candidates he’d found on the desk, containing datestamped image and video files.

George was astonished to find, in his folder, a comprehensive record of everything that had occurred since waking up in hospital… George’s flesh crawled as he worked through the files.

#2 – Tube

The London Underground has a few surprises for those in the know. Beneath the streets of the capitol, far above, lie stories of ghosts and tales of long abandoned stations and tunnels… If you know where to look you can even see the forgotten platforms as you rattle by.

But look even more closely and you may catch a disconcerting glimpse of the Underground’s most disturbing secret.

The pallid faces and insubstantial forms of lost commuters, grasping their briefcases and bags with skeletal fingers, waiting silently and patiently on those dark, lonely platforms…

Waiting for trains that will never arrive.

TOM

Springs Eternal

Jimmy lived in the underground. The trains stopped running in 2197, by the turn of the century it was the only concentration of electric power left. No one had a clue why they called the place Fruitdale, but it was better by far than Union City run by thugs, or Fremont Station run by religious zealots. “I guess, if you live at the end of the line, the end is always end,” quipped Jimmy. The boy had hacked the intercom system to play 100 word stories 24/7. No one paid much attention to the context. They listen for the sound of hope.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 82

“Gr-K” yelled Mother swung her rifle directly at the Rev’s head, dropped and nailed an incoming Forlite Bird. “Well played Mr. Parsons,” said the Rev picking blue bird parts off his shoulder. “Haven’t heard that word in ages. You were with the underground weren’t you?”

“Much to Lt. Parsons’s dismay.”

“Oh he must have suffered greatly on the duel crosses of love and duty. Gladly I think the breach between is why we are speaking on this noble Sunday afternoon.”

“He got the last of the underground off Beta Bovine.”

“You went agreeably?”

“I was drugged.”

“Easer extraction.”

Mother snorted.

TURA

Underground
——–
God left today.

It hit the Earth ten thousand years ago, sinking deep underground, alive but too damaged to escape. So it projected its mind to raise our primitive cultures towards developing science and technology.

Judaism, Greek philosophy, Jesus, Mohammed: all signs of its memetic engineering. At last, it found the triggers to set us on the path of science. A few years ago it made us find it and set us to work.

And now it’s gone, ignoring us like discarded tools.

As if waking from dreams, we look at each other and wonder, what do we do now?

SERENDIPITY

This deep underground, it is utterly dark, so dark that it’s impossible to see your hand in front of your face. So, when the lamp failed, all I could do was stay put and wait for the rescue party.

Finally, after long hours in the pitch darkness, the welcome glow of light appeared… But something was wrong – this was not the glow of electric torches, but the flicker of flames, and the sounds that accompanied them were not the reassuring shouts of my rescuers.

When I saw my fate, my only wish was for the darkness to return.

Permanently!

SPATE

Thanatos 1:1

Verily I say unto thee, in a time that is soon to come, the world shall be
divided into two peoples, each the opposite extreme of the other.

The sky people shall shed all their clothing and ascend to the heavens so
they may live floating above with their heads in the clouds.

The earth people shall also become naked but dig holes in the dirt so that
they may live bent over with their heads underground.

During this age, the moderate peoples of all nations shall grow silent and
disappear, wearily retreating from the sight of so many assholes.

(music: “Vivian and Ondine” by William Basinski is licensed under Creative
Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States and curated
by freemusicarchive.org / sound effects by soundjay.com)

ZACKMANN

Lollipop Rant

I’ll tunnel into the Google Complex. I’ll make them fix my Nexus 7 which hasn’t worked right since Lollipop. I should’ve know that when the new unhealthy treat name of the OS 5.0 wasn’t as good as the unhealthy treat 4.0 was named after it would suck. Kit Kat should have been replaced by It’s Its or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Icecream. I want Google to know if I wanted a device that doesn’t work right I would have paid the extra for Apple. Maybe I’ll try uninstalling my apps and clearing the cache or Factory Reset first.

Seeing my son’s face after he ate an unprocessed olive was nearly priceless and I wish I would have taken a picture but the coolest part of the wine tour was the wine tunnel. Literally as well as figuratively since our visit to Napa Valley was in the summer when it gets very hot outside but it was not hot in the tunnel. Watching all of those barrels sitting there with the wine aging in them wondering if we would survive an earthquake down there. On second thought the wine, vinegar dip, and olive dip tasting was my favorite part.

RICK

Walt had made his fortune here
The underground …
the counterculture …
here the inhabitants aren’t above the law,they are below the radar.
Unheard, unseen by normal society …
a place where anything might be available, anything can happen.
:Pot, pills, coke, heroin …
murder, weapons, whores …
all manner of goods and services!
Walt had made a nice living providing such things to those who wanted them.
Walt made his fortune from the secrets he kept!

Ironic …

10,000 well kept secrets earned Walt millions!

One un-kept secret cost him everything!

Shot in the head, fed to the dogs …
his death became underground legend!

ANIMA

Underground Saint

Trouble was brewing at school; I was failing the fourth grade. How can you fail reading?

Like a good catholic, I prayed to every saint I could muster.

St Quigley answered: “Look to the sea of letters”.

The next day, I asked my most troubling spelling question, and the answer appeared in the cereal –

“PREPOSTEROUS”

This worked for several years, through graduate school. Honeycombs for science, Fruity Pebbles for geology, Lucky Charms when I had no clue.

By age 31, cereals had been reformulated to a more nutrious, non-sugary base. No more answers and I am doomed to black coffee.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle looked at his cards. “That’s not a very good hand.”
He looked around the table. The Cat Lady shrugged and the dealer stared, expressionless.
“You taking another card, Weiner Dog Man?” Superconductor asked.
“I don’t know,” Dergle said. “It’s a seventeen, and if I was only wagering five dollars and not my life, I would hold. But if the dealer’s hiding a face card, I’m lost. What would the house recommend?”
“This is an illegal underground card room, not a friendly Vegas casino. You have to make your own decisions,” Superconductor said.
Dergle reached out and tapped the table.

DANNY

There is no Underground anymore. Corporate America has purchased the real estate, bought all the media outlets, and controls the music we hear. Our corporate media tells us what to think, what to feel, which pretty much means feel nothing, unless you are going to buy a sweater a Macy’s. Because we corporate American’s LOVE Macy’s. We pray allegiance to our corporate overlords, the mere concept of “Underground” has been driven underground. And society suffers for it. After all, your listening to nothing more than a corporate condominium erected in the place where music once lived and breathed, then died.

LIZZIE

A faint line of smoke came up from the manhole. It smelled deliciously of grilled food. Sean found that odd and decided to investigate.

The manhole led to the sewers. At some point, these connected with the old tunnels of the underground. That’s where he met Henry.

“Why do you live here?”

Henry replied “Why not?”

“Well, it’s too dark.”

“It’s not what you see with your eyes that matters.”

There were hundreds of people living there, adjusting.

Sean decided to drop his life above ground.

“We’ll be ready,” said Henry.

When the catastrophe happened, they were the only survivors.

PLANET Z

Ted had a book.
So did I.
Sally found two in the trash.
That’s how the underground library began.
People from all over the city brought books.
It didn’t matter what kind of book.
The language. The subject. The condition.
We gathered them all up in the library.
People came to read.
People came to learn.
People came to share knowledge.
It was only a matter of time before the authorities found us.
They burned the books.
And some of the readers.
Still, a few books survived.
Ted had a book.
So did I.
And we began the library again.

Weekly Challenge #452 – New Jersey

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: NEW JERSEY

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of UNDERGROUND. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

NOTE: I feel that my rambling in between stories disrupts the storytelling. And I really don’t like the impersonal robot voice in between the stories. So, let’s try it without anything between the stories for a while and see how that works.

JOHN MUSICO

New Jersey
by John Musico

I was flying into Newark NJ, the murder capital of the U.S. My wallet was in one front pants pocket and my jewelry in the other.
The cab proceeded through the factory town of Elizabeth where the stench and smoke hurt my lungs.
However soon after, the surroundings changed drastically. The highway had no trash and was crested by landscaping.
On either side of the highway; trees abounded. I always wondered why NJ is called the Garden State.
We arrived at the Jersey Shore along side vacationing New Yorkers; who cracked NJ jokes and led to my impression of Jersey.

MUNSI

…for when I go to Flames games.

By Christopher Munroe

I want a New Jersey.

One that won’t make me sick.

One that won’t make me crash my car, make me feel three feet thick…

Sorry, I got off track there. I’ll try again.

I want a New Jersey.

I’ll order it eventually, there are places online to have Jersey’s custom built.

It will be stark black and white, minimalist, numbered zero-zero.

On the front and back, where the athlete’s name would traditionally be, will be the word “Sport!”

This way I can wear it to ANY game I want, and it will always be appropriate!

I’m a genius, yes?

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 85: Password

Completely at a loss, George decided to try his luck with the computer. Switching it on, he was faced with the familiar instructions to enter his password. It was only after numerous failed attempts using “123ABC”, “password”, “admin” and random keystrokes that he spotted the ‘password hint’ link…

“George, my boy, you are an elite hacker”, he muttered to himself, smiling.

His smile faded when he saw the hint: ‘What word links: boys, shore, cattle and new?’

Needless to say, it took him several hundred attempts before he managed to come up with ‘jersey’.

The screen flickered: he was in!

#2 – Christmas jumper

Every year I drag it out of the box in the wardrobe, for its annual moment of glory. For a good three weeks it goes everywhere with me… work, church and the pub.

I’ve had that Christmas jumper for longer than I care to remember, and it’s starting to show its age – it’s a little threadbare in places. I have to say that it’s no longer in particularly good shape.

Neither am I… which is why, I’m afraid, it’s just a little too small to fit me comfortably this Christmas.

So I guess it’s time, for a new jersey.

JEFFREY

Atlantic City
by Jeffrey Fischer

In Vegas, the neon and the glitz artfully conceal the real city. Atlantic City tried, but just couldn’t muster the same degree of illusion. Threadbare carpets, tired buffets, and an aura of resignation permeate the casinos and hotels. Still, the faithful – elderly, overweight, and chain-smoking – keep returning, inserting their worn dollar bills and twenties crisp from the ATM. They keep pushing the button to watch the wheels spin, sure that the next pull of the lever will be the one in their favor. The one similarity between the two gambling meccas is that both towns run on hope. It’s just that in Atlantic City even hope is shopworn.

Pit Stop
by Jeffrey Fischer

The New Jersey Turnpike named its rest stops after the state’s famous sons: Woodrow Wilson, Thomas Edison, and Joyce Kilmer. Worthies all, but perhaps they don’t resonate with young people the way they once did. Here’s a suggestion to Gov. Christie: you have a deep roster of luminaries with a connection to New Jersey, so why not update the rest stops? Jon Bon Jovi, for when someone needs to apply hair spray, or Charles Addams, if that’s not too creepy. Chelsea Handler, for a vodka break, Peter Dinklage, for those times when a short stop is all that’s needed. Or James Gandolfini, in case Dad needs to bury an unruly child in the woods.

CHELSEA

The New Jersey

It was red. That was the first thing she noticed about it as the box fell away. It was red and stiff, with deep creases where it had been folded.

She spread the clothe across her lap running her fingers over the stitching that held the white letters in place across the sholder, the small captain’s C on the front above the the team logo, white and burning.

Splashed across the logo on the front was his autograph. Her childhood hero.

She could not stop the tears from falling as she finaly lifted her eyes from her new jersey.

TOM

A Well Defined Relationship Part 80

“patient”

“Mrs. Parsons there are few sounds in this Universe the will test the mettle of a young man, the drawing of a saber is one. That sound doubled will turn a beer hall silence as a morgue. The company froze as I and your husband engaged. What saved me and by proxy your husband was my total lack of willingness to go on the offensive, to be patient and wait him out. Each of his blow diminished till he was unable to lift his arm.

“yield,” said I

“Never,”said he

“no I yield.”

I lower my blade to the floor

A Well Defined Relationship Part 81

“New Jersey”

Rev Sockbe stood and reslung his rifle. “Perhaps it was for the best Mrs. Parsons. Good to know one is not a warrior. That is how I came to join the order of St New Jersey. Think of that a man of god unable to forgive the man who caused his calling. “But he is gone sir, doesn’t that end the matter?” “One would image so, but sadly not the case. I come from a race of warriors. When my blade touched the ground I became dead to my people. I can never go home again.” “That makes two of us.

Oh What A Night

Last night I watched Jersey Boys. I was intrigued how well Clint Eastwood would handle a musical. Would it be as lame as Sir Richard Attenborough’s Chorus Line or as surreal as Bob Fosse’s All That Jazz. Surprisingly it held up pretty good. Knowing all the songs by heart helped. I wished I had seen the stage production cause I did not get the four seasons metaphor or the 4th wall intrusions. Usually I detest a dance party ending, but Mr. Eastwood’s New Jersey street lamp quartet was spot on. I had no idea Christopher Walken could dance that well

SERENDIPITY

Just off the New Jersey Turnpike, in an everyday urban street, something is stirring – something monstrous and terrifying!

Some call it ‘The Beast’ – a portent of the apocalypse – an all-consuming and mighty adversary corrupting all who fall within its grasp.

But this monster is cunning: it masquerades as an angel of light, cajoling and enticing its victims with illusions of wholesomeness and goodness.

It is a deceiver that leaves its mark wherever it spawns its evil.

So watch out, residents of that quiet New Jersey street for the mark of the beast…

The distinctive golden arches.

ANIMA

The New Jersey

Jerry, you’ll play forward, number 19. Coach did not look happy.

Grinning from ear to ear, I thought about all the hard work I had put in.

The early morning work outs, staying after school to run laps, skipping parties to make sure I was rested.

I missed the cut the first two years. The players were bigger, and more skillful.

But I closed the gap.

I honed my tactical skills, learning more with each passing day.

Through a series of unfortunate accidents, dubious illnesses, and vicious rumors, the bigger lads dropped off the team.

I love my new jersey!

SPATE

Eating In New Jersey

Somewhere in a strip mall on the westbound side of Route 46 between Totowa
and Parsippany, there’s this Italian restaurant.

Inside there’s a counter where you can buy slices, but look to the left
you’ll see a narrow passage leading to a dining area where you can eat and
bring your own bottle of wine or a six-pack.

However, if there’s a crowded table of smartly dressed older gentlemen
speaking Italian back there, some tips:
1. The two twitching burly guys standing around are not waiters.
2. Probably best to do takeout.
3. The chicken scaloppini is to die for.

LIZZIE

Jonathan won the writing competition! He just couldn’t believe it. The prize was one night spent in the lighthouse, the main attraction of his town. It was said to be the residence of a dreadfully horrid ghost.

With great disbelief, everyone saw Jonathan enter the place triumphantly.

A few hours were enough to drive him crazy. He screamed, he yelled, he begged for help.

The next morning, Jonathan emerged through the door to face everyone’s curiosity, his eyes looking down. After all, he managed to single handedly ruin the main attraction. No one would see that poor ghost ever again.

NORVAL JOE

Four cowboys were sitting around a campfire listening to the crickets chirp. Passing a bowl of tortilla chips and salsa around the circle, one of the cowboys said, “This salsa is awful. Cookie! Where’d you find this stuff?”
“San Antonio,” Cookie said, buttoning his new sweater and heading to the cook wagon. “Good night, boys.”
“Cookie,” the cowboy laughed and called again, “Did you get that new jersey in San Antonio as well?”
“Nope. I got it from the Montgomery Wards catalogue. It came all the way from Atlantic City.”
“Atlantic City,” the cowboy exclaimed, “Well don’t that beat all.”

DIO

New Christmas

The tragedy of the Jersey Shore Snowman, whom Wenceslas murdered, and whose dismembered orange body we found scattered under our Christmas tree, threatened to ruin the holiday for us, until we discovered that all the cast of Jersey Shore were New Yorkers, mere signifiers of a construct, and thus themselves mere signifiers of signification itself, a great circle, like the circle of life (memories of Christmases past), or the water cycle, and as we joined in this feast of signs, we somehow found it in our hearts during the season of love to forgive this signification of hate, knowing the New Jersey Snowman did exist after all.

TURA

New Jersey
——–
Hamish! Hullo!

Hullo Dougal! Ye’ll have had yer tea then? But jings, whit’s that beastie out there in the field?

Farmer McTavish got rid of his Old Aberdonian cow, and this is whit he’s got to replace it. But I cannae make out whit breed it is.

Well, it’s definitely not a Modern Friesian.

And it canna be a Recent Charolais.

Could it be a Nouvelle Afghan Dwarf?

You know, I’m thinkin’ it maybe comes from one o’ the Channel Islands.

And it’s certainly an up to date breed.

So we’re coming to a consensus here? It must be a….
——–

PLANET Z

Michael rowed his boat ashore.
But nobody said Hallelujah.
Instead, someone shouted “Fuck you, buddy!”
And another threw an empty beer can at his head.
Michael had rowed his boat to New Jersey.
And tied it down to The Boardwalk of Atlantic City.
“You think you can just dock your boat here?” said one of the natives. “What’s a matter with you?”
Michael argued with them for a while, but gave up and rowed his boat away from the shore.
“What rude people,” he said.
Then, he rowed it to Connecticut.
And was shot by a yacht club security guard.

Weekly Challenge #451 – Patient

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: PATIENT

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of NEW JERSEY. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

LADY BLUE

The Blind O
Blue Ray

She possessed an X-ray gaze and spoke in a nonsense tongue that made people very angry. They hated how she looked at them; it was unsettling. On the inside, she was already an abomination, so they admitted her.

Patient 29 now lived in a white box. She was slowly recovering from a laryngectomy. Her eyes had been scooped out of her head, and they severed her spine so that she would not injure herself. Feeding tubes and catheters kept her healthy.

Once a day, a priest would come and give her religion. They said it would rehabilitate her soul.

JOHN MUSICO

Patients
by John Musico

Why do doctors call people their “patients”?
First off, why convert individuals into a group: doctors and all the other mere mortals?
The white cape goes with this superhero theory. It’s really a lab coat- for techs against chemical splashes. The closest thing to getting splashed for a physician is someone sneezing on them.
But why choose “patients” specifically? Is it because doctors are trying to offset the expectation that patients will be imposed with circumstances expected to make them impatient, but heck, they’re “patients”, so it’s fine. The common line; “You’ll just have to be patient” favors this theory.

JEFFREY

Lady Mondegreen
by Jeffrey Fischer

Janice gamely auditioned for off-Broadway musicals every chance she had, but her hearing wasn’t what it used to be. That created some unfortunate mix-ups in singing lyrics. For a torch song version of “Purple Haze,” she insisted the line was “‘Scuse me while I kiss this pie.” After the third time, the producer told her that he’d been patient, but she was done. As she tearfully packed her things, he added, “Oh, and it’s ‘while I kiss the sky,’ not ‘this pie.'”

Janice stopped what she was doing and replied, “Why, that’s just silly. Why would anyone try to kiss the sky?”

The producer carefully looked at Janice. “Wait a minute, you’ve auditioned for me before. You’re the one who insisted that Whitney Houston was singing, ”Cuz I’m shaving off my muff for you,’ aren’t you?”

Her parting words were: “Well, it makes more sense than what you claim she sang.”

A Fine Whine
by Jeffrey Fischer

Helping to treat Ebola patients in Africa is a noble endeavor, but normal people think it a good idea to quarantine anyone who comes into contact with the virus and shows symptoms of the disease. Not so the Ebola Nurse, who whined that she shouldn’t be quarantined, that this was just like rounding up the Japanese during World War II, failing to appreciate the distinction between the two incidents.

When the Ebola Nurse left New Jersey, heading for Maine, she whined about the publicity she was getting, failing to notice that she brought the news cameras on herself.

Then she whined that she didn’t want to be known as the Ebola Nurse, as she never had Ebola. Not a problem, the press responded, and dubbed her the Whiny Nurse.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 84: Candidate

It took twenty minutes of rubbing his sore toes and numb shoulder before George could take in his new surroundings, which were frankly disappointing.

The room was small and uninteresting: just a desk, chair and a computer. A cardboard wallet lay on the desk.

Written neatly on the wallet’s flap, the words ‘Beta Project – Candidates’, and inside a single sheet of paper: a list of names – including Georges’ – each with a corresponding candidate number.

George was confused – if this was a hospital why was he a candidate, and not a patient?

And what exactly was the meaning of the list?

#2 – Be patient

This is one of those stories you have to stick with, although it’s hard going.

No spoilers.

No clues.

Just a slow-burning plot that hides the final outcome until the very end.

It’s the sort of story that you wish you’d never started, but once you have, you can’t bring yourself to put it down… you simply have to know how it works out.

Chapter by chapter.

Page by page.

Line by line… right through to the bitter end.

Nearly there now.

Don’t get your hopes up – the clever twist, the surprise ending, is coming.

Soon.

Just be patient.

LZZIE

Being impatient has saved me from trouble several times and throughout my life I never looked at it as something negative. Once I started being told to be patient, I became very suspicious of this new demand. They say patience is a virtue, true. However, impatience solves problems. Torn between one and the other, I decided to take turns, Monday – patience, Tuesday – impatience, Wednesday – patience, and so on. The day I met him was, unfortunately, a Thursday. Without being asked for an opinion, he said my dress had an awkward color and I kicked him in the… well, never mind.

SPATE

Seasonal Disorder

Each year it got worse: music; crowds; runny nosed kids; mandatory insincere
greetings of strangers; those bells ringing and ringing.

Every time a damned bell rings it’s Black Friday selling another soul at
sixty percent off.

Yeah, this year I snapped.

I stripped in the middle of the food court, leapt onto that table, kicked
over little Timmy’s fake Christmas pudding in the green and red neon plastic
tub and shouted out for all to hear: “Show me Clarence, where is my
wonderful life?!”

Yeah, gonna quit my job in retail. as soon as they let me outta this
hospital.

(Music: “Sugar Plum Dark Mix” by Kevin MacLeod / incompetech.com / composed
by Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky)

MUNSI

Patient

By Christopher Munroe

I’ll wait for you, love, for as long as it takes. Because you matter to me, more than I can possibly say, and when somebody matters to you you’re willing to give them all the time they might possibly need…

So…

Um…

Are you ready?

No?

That’s totally okay, I respect your need for time, for space, and I’ll wait as long as it takes. Until the end of time, if need be. Because you, my love, are worth the wait.

So…

How ‘bout now?

No?

Now?

No?

Now?

I’m willing to wait.

I have the patience of a saint…

ZACKMANN

Seems like I’ve been waiting forever for this movie. The one sequel anyone really ever wanted. You might think Star Wars Episode 7 but No, I saw Episode 1 so will not even think about Episode 7 because I’m saving my heartbreaking disappointment for the day it is in the theater. I am waiting for “Spaceballs 2: The Search for More Money” or “Spaceballs 3: The Search for Spaceballs 2”, whichever comes first. Likely, it will be just my luck that the movie will be good but will not be in theaters like Odd Thomas or Equestria Girls: Rainbow Rocks”

ANIMA

Lists

I have this thing about lists.

To-do lists; packing lists; grocery lists; Christmas card lists.

I am still working on my revenge list. Those folks who have wronged me and my family. The teacher who humiliated my son; she is going to find her tires flattened next week.

Those losers who did not friend me. Their personal information is being passed on to the North Koreans.

And at the top of the list – This doctor who is making me wait. I haven’t figured out what it will be, but he won’t have to wait as long as I have today.

DIONYSIUS

Mistresses

Ben Franklin recommended older mistresses because they are more grateful — but patient?

Candace, for example, was impatient to move to the next level when she first met Ray, which to her meant a partner for the rest of her life. She was extremely patient, he thought, with his erections, which often took their time. He saw this as a reflection of her impatience for commitment.

The younger women he met were patient (actually indifferent) with their long-term prospects but more often impatient with his equipment.

The older women said Ray found indifference reassuring because he couldn’t commit.

All the women resented the word mistress.

Finding the Thread

Trager was known on occasion to stop in mid-stride or mid-sentence without warning. Why?

For Block this was an issue. Block thought on his feet. Block was always two sentences or two steps ahead of himself. Block was impatient. Don’t ask Block why, he thinks you already know the answer.

Come on, Trager, Block would say, just keep it rolling. Follow me. DON’T follow me!

Trager would deliberate. Where is this leading?

When Block fell off the edge of the world, Trager stopped. Trager watched him go. Why? To find the thread, Trager said.

Block fell like someone who knows what he’s doing.

The Curse

My mother always told my father he needed patient. He suffered from chronic constipation. Perhaps it was even congenital. They watched me anxiously through my younger years, without patient, and though I rarely suffered the paternal affliction, a few rare occasions were the object of intense scrutiny, amounting to a parental pressure that I now blame for everything.

My father’s constipation was continuous, however, and my mother always gave the same advice: Now, patient, she would say, and remember patient is the great thing, and above all things else we must avoid anything like being or becoming out of patient.

“Patience” goddammit, he would shout. It’s “patience”!

SERENDIPITY

“Time of death, eight fifteen”

“Excuse me, doctor”, I interrupted, “the patient isn’t dead!”

He stared at me strangely; “You’re new here, aren’t you?

Why do you think we’re the best hospital in the area? Let the patient die, without any messing about, and you save time and money… you need fewer and less qualified staff, cheaper equipment and those waiting lists are practically non-existent!”

I was shocked: “What about medical ethics?” I countered, “And duty of care?”

“Why should we care, if the patient doesn’t?” He responded.

“But of course he does!” I argued.

“Not for much longer, nurse!”

TOM

Patients Aren’t

For years I have heard of the maladapted behavior of Gail’s patients. In keeping with hippaa these near rants were liberally peppered with X did this and Y did that. It is my humble opinion patients are not patient. But every once in a while one of her clients says something just flat out amusing. The following actually occurred. During a general interview the question of sexual activity came up. The dear woman thought for a moment and told Gail she was not, but her husband was.” It took all her best FNP affect to keep from laughing out loud.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 77

“Community”

Mother was welcomed into the little community while awaiting her son and the Doctor. She set up a class in business practices for the younger woman of the community. The Rev Morehouse found room in the rectory of Our Lady of Perpetual Motion in return for getting the books of the church in order. On Sunday afternoon she and Sockbe would fire off a few 1000s rounds in the high desert “Mrs Parsons if we’d had your gun at Ricker’s Ridge the war would have gone quite differently.” “You do know the Commanding Officer on that ridge?” “Yes Mrs. Parsons.”

A Well Defined Relationship Part 78

“Cranberries”

“I miss him so horribly Rev Sockbe.”

“You will forgive me for not sharing your sentiment.”

“Of course how rude of me.”

“No Mrs. Parsons I should not have been so frank. Living in the outback tends to strip away social conventions. Further you don’t know how I became aquatinted with your late husband. As I recall the subject was cranberries.”

“We were so full of ourselves in the court of the Emperor.”

The Rev lower to the ground and propped his gun against a log. Gazing cross the horizon he crossed the decades to the days of his youth.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 79

“Shoe”

I was a shiny new cadet at the academy and Lancer Parsons was a year ahead of me. Dueling was all the rage in those peaceful days. At a Thanksgiving dinner an argument broke out over the etymology of craneberries. Your husband refused to yield the floor. Foolishly I pointed out it server the company best to devour the sauce of our discontent. Rancorous laugher and table thumbing insued. Lancer Parsons somewhat unhinged removed a shoe and let it fall in my mashed potatoes. Not to be out done I removed one of my own and dropped it in same potatoes.

TURA

Patient
——–
The Thing in the Hill crawled through the dank tunnels. It peered out over an empty hillside. Rain fell in zinc sheets. As always. It crawled back inside and searched for a toad to eat.

* * *

It sat against the wall, chewing on something that had wriggled under its foot and was now wriggling in its mouth.

* * *

The thing that had wriggled in its mouth was now wriggling in its stomach. It tickled. It hated when it did that.

* * *

It sat for a while longer.

* * *

It was a very patient Thing.

* * *

Time dripped from the roof and oozed down the walls.
——–
(Ack to freesfx.co.uk and freesound.org for dank, damp sound effects.)

NORVAL JOE

The dealer carefully bent up one corner of his hidden card. The stony expression never leaving his face, he looked to the Crazy Cat Lady. Her cards, face up, showed queen and eight. She waved her hand over them and the dealer turned to Dergle.
Nine and three. Dergle tapped his finger next to his cards and the dealer turned over another three.
“Sixteen,” Dergle sighed.
“You have to hit on a sixteen, Wiener Dog Man.” Superconductor said.
“Be patient. I’m thinking.” Dergle said.
“Okay,” Dergle said, tapping the table. “Give me a five.”
The dealer turned over an ace.

PLANET Z

irst Virtual Hospital scans every patient that comes into the hospital to create a virtual profile.
Then, we run that virtual profile through every diagnostic available to determine what is wrong with them.
That results in a list of proposed treatments, the risks of each procedure, and the costs.
Their insurance company gets that report, and determines what the patient is covered for.
After that, the lawyers review the malpractice risks involved with each procedure.
Finally, the doctor practices discussing the options available with the virtual patient.
“You’re perfectly fine,” says the doctor. “Nothing to worry about.”
The administrators grin.

Weekly Challenge #450 – Shoe

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: SHOE

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of PATIENT. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JOHN MUSICO

Shoe
by John Musico

I remember reading an interview with John Lennon. The reporter asked him; “What does I am the walrus mean? After a pause Lennon replied simply, “Nothing”.
I had been recalling that amusing story the day of “the shoe”. That day I brought a huge nail, a hammer and a shoe to work and nailed it to a tree out back where the break tables were.
Thereafter, I sat on break, listening to coworker’s theories on the shoe, maintaining my poker face.
Guessing I probably was behind the mischief, they asked; “What does it mean?”
I paused and replied simply, “Nothing”.

MUNSI

Shoes

By Christopher Munroe

I’m never more nervous than when things go well.

I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which isn’t healthy, it isn’t normal, I know it isn’t, and it robs me of my ability to enjoy the good things, and there are plenty of good things in my life!

I can’t help it, it’s just who I am.

Even my victories I find myself unable to enjoy…

For example, if all went well, by the time you hear this I’ll be done my NaNoWriMo draft.

And yet, as of writing this, I’m kind of still freaked out about it…

JEFFREY

Cinderella’s Trial
by Jeffrey Fischer

Cinderella, dressed in her magical finery, was at the prince’s ball, all right, just as the story went. Where fiction deviated from fact was that Cinderella lost her slipper while looting ladies’ handbags in the cloakroom.

At her trial, Johnnie Cochran waved the slipper, shouting, “If the shoe don’t fit, you must acquit!” Johnnie was using a variant on the phrase a lot in those days. Unfortunately for him and his client, the glass slipper fit perfectly on Cindy’s foot. She was sentenced to prison, where she spent the next 15 years perfecting the fairy tale version of her story that we all know.

Size 8
by Jeffrey Fischer

Irene was that insufferable colleague who makes the entire work day a chore: unpleasant, arrogant, constantly interrupting others with strongly-held but frequently-incorrect observations. Her smug grin was the crap frosting on the mud cake. Mom always told me I shouldn’t criticize someone before I’ve walked a mile in her shoes, so I stole a pair of Irene’s pumps, squeezed my size 11 feet into them, and walked a painful mile before I tore those shoes off my blistered feet. Now, by God, I let her have it every chance I get, and I feel great.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 83: Impassable

George rebounded from the door in spectacular fashion, doing far more damage to his shoulder than the door or its frame.

Rather than take the hint, George’s temper flared and he charged back at the door, aiming a wild, karate-style kick at the offending obstacle. Unfortunately, the violence of the kick caused his shoe to fly off down the corridor, resulting in his unprotected foot connecting violently with the unyielding wood.

George screamed in pain and reached for the door handle to break his fall as he crashed to the floor.

The door swung easily open under his weight… outwards.

#2 – Shoe

Shoes can be so expensive, particularly when you only have one leg – what’s the point of buying a pair when you can only ever wear one of them?

After years of inconvenience, I decided the only solution was to turn to crime and, in one afternoon I quietly liberated most of the single shoes on display outside shoe shops in the town centre.

Only when I returned home and took a good look at my ill-gotten gains did I realise my terrible mistake…

Shops only ever put the right shoe on display, but I only have a left leg!

CHELSEA

Shoe

I truly believe that the person responsible for women’s shoes was into some hard core S&M. If you don’t spend your whole day in slippers you are in some serious pain before noon.

I have tried everything under the sun to make my shoes more comfortable. Purchased countless insoles of varying types. I have worn damp socks to stretch out shoes and blow-dried them into place. I have put bandaids on different parts of my feet and the shoes to prevent blisters.

My conclusion, stick to slippers and anyone who thinks differently can go fuck themselves cus there my feet!

TURA

Shoe
——–
There was once a mouse, that lived in an old shoe. The shoe had been lying under a hedge for more years than a mouse can imagine. But not too many for a cat to remember. It saw, it always saw, when a new mouse had moved into such a safe, inviting nest. The mouse would come and go, nibbling on the little things that little mice eat. And all the while the cat watched, stone still, basking as if in the sun, in the ecstasy of power.

Until the cat would end it, and wait for the next mouse.
——–
I have a second story, but it will not go down to anything close to 100 words, so you can read “The Cobbler and the Devil” on my blog instead. God, the Devil, the Internet, and Linden Lab permitting, I will also read it at Book Island the same day the podcast goes out, 1pm SLT.

SPATE

If The Shoe Fits, Wait For It To Drop

His name was Dimitri. I called him Dim. because he was.

We worked together; third shift over at Kozlowski’s sausage factory. He ran
the grinder. I stuffed casings.

One night, he’s got this burning itchy foot fungus thing going on and he’s
hopping around pulling his shoe off to scratch it when he stumbles and the
shoe flies out of his hands and sails into the vat of meat scraps feeding
the grinder.

Next morning, Dim punches out wearing only one shoe.

Management stares but says nothing.

You learn not to ask questions when you work at a sausage factory.

(“Amari szi Amari” by Rozsa / rozsaband.com / curator: freemusicarchive.org
/ Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0)

SERENDIPITY

After Toni’s run in with the cops, it was necessary to show him the error of his ways.

Now I’m a pretty fair boss, so I just told the boys to rough him up a bit, break a few fingers, that sort of thing, but nothing excessive… After all, who doesn’t make mistakes?

Once business was concluded, I didn’t want Toni thinking there was bad feeling between us, so I sent the boys out to buy him a nice new suit – his old one being torn and covered in blood

Hell, I even bought him new shoes.

Concrete ones.

ZACKMANN

“Stop chewing on my shoe!” said dad.
“She will not understand you.” said Drew.

“Deja de mascar mi zapatos” tries dad.

“First your Spanish is terrible. Second you do realize that the reason she doesn’t understand you isn’t because her breed is from Mexico but because she is a dog, right? Come here girl, I have a chew toy”

“Have you named your puppy yet, because I suggest you call her Imelda.” said dad.

Drew replies “Maybe mother can take you to buy a new pair if you don’t call mother Imelda every time you enter a show store together.”

TOM

If The Shoe Fits

“These are magic shoes”

m-a-g-i-c s-h-o-e-s

“Yup, made them myself.’

“Frank you’re an accountant.

Accountants don’t make magic shoes.

Frank?

Where the fuck did he disappear to?”

“Over here,” said the voice.

Bill looked up to see Frank walking across the ceiling, but it wasn’t Frank talking. It was the shoes.

“So you’re talking magic shoes.”

“That’s Mr. Talking Magic Shoes ugly bag of mostly water.”

“Frank I think your shoes have attitude.”

“Damn right, monkey boy. In the new world order you’re my Shoe Shin Monkey.”

“Don’t think so cow skins, Rex chew up these tasty shoes will you.”

A Well Defined Relationship Part 75

“Brain”

The company made their way to the razor wire perimeter of the Bandit’s Lair. Sparky hit the cloaking array one by one all but El Cid blinked out, who moved steadily forward at Senator Smith’s assistance. “Sheath indeed Doctor Proctor. Hey hombre turn on the lights.” The holographic image Pancho Villa appeared.” “Si Senor Cid. Would you like transport?” “Send out Brain.” From the far end of the compound a vehicle rolled towards the Bandit

“Sleep Hombre,” said El Cid. The company climbed aboard the Brain. “Take us to the Tamerlane” a gun resting against his ribs insured continued cooperation.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 76

“Bank”

Brain deftly made his way between all of the defenses the Bandit had noted during the Tachyon love fest. The door to Warehouse 14 opened and Brain roll into the towering metal structure.

“Holy Shit, “croaked Sparky. The interior was filled with row upon row of computer banks.

“Is this Tamerlane?” ask Timmy

“No,” said Dino Mod, “That is.”

A red light at the center outlined an object the size of a bread box.

“Kill the cloak,” said the Doctor, “Tamerlane knows we are here. Isn’t the right Caesar?”

“Good Bye Doctor.”
As the company appeared El Cid vanished.

ANIMA

Overheard in the Park

Ow Ow Ow!

Why all the noise, son?

My feet hurt Dad. A LOT.

Is it a ‘I stubbed my toe” owie, or more a “there’s a rock in my shoe” owie?

No, and no.

Okay, let’s use logic. Have you trimmed your toe nails lately? Have you jumped from high places? Did you check for scorpions before you put on your shoes?

Yes, no and yes. It’s like my feet are squashed. I hate these new shoes.

Did you mix up the left and right?

Oh…

And that’s how it is when the shoe is on the other foot.

DIO

The Secret

John was obsessed with his one, inadmissible, incomprehensible secret: the shoe.

In his whole life, no one knew of it. No one suspected. It wasn’t after all the kind of thing one might suspect.

John never spoke of it. His demeanor never gave away how it had come to be his, how he kept it close for all those years, when he lived an otherwise apparently normal life, with wife, children, eventually grandchildren and even great-grandchildren.

And yet, it never left his mind. Marriages, births, birthdays, anniversaries, illness, for richer and for poorer, the years passed in deliberate indifference to John’s hidden truth, his secret, the shoe.

A Pair of Shoes

All we need now, said the boy named Jesse, is a parashoes.

What for, said the other.

To keep us from falling, answered Jesse. He climbed out of the laundry basket and down the ladder to the floor of the garage. They tried tying a large towel to the basket. Just hold onto it, said Jesse. Hold it tight.

A woman crying Jesse! Jesse! ran out of the house as fast as she could. She was older and overweight and it wasn’t very fast. Get down from there! Get down before I get my shoe after you, Jesse Campbell!

The two boys scrambled away to safety.

NORVAL JOE

Superconductor opened a door off the hallway. The sound of people shouting and laughing spilled from the room.
“Go in,” Garbage Man grunted.
Men and women gathered around felt covered tables. Dealers chatted as they flipped cards out to the players.
An empty semi-circular table awaited them, a dealer scowling from behind it.
“I like to give everyone a chance,” Superconductor said. “If you can beat the house at ten hands of Black Jack, I’ll let you live.”
The dealer slipped two cards out of the shoe for each player, turning his second card face up, showing ten of spades.”

LADY BLUE

Blue Suede Shoes

“Shoe.”

“What?”

“I said, SHOE!”

“I just got here! You are SO rude! I came to deliver your mail, and you tell me to SHOO? This is the dumbest witness protection program ever, Elvis!” I angrily threw the mail on the ground, not caring that the old, wizened lump sitting on the couch, sustained by tubes of amniotic fluids, preservatives, experimental drugs and blenderized cheeseburger potato and ice cream smoothies, who was one of America’s greatest living music legends-still-kept-alive-in-secret, would be offended.

“Ya got shit on your shoe.”

“Oh. Uh, let me pick these up, sir.”

LIZZIE

Ronnie walked through the comforting darkness of night time. He wore one shoe and held the other against his chest. No one bothered to make any comment. He was a freak. He knew he was a freak and he acted like a freak. Even when the first snowflakes covered the streets in white, he still acted like a freak, holding one shoe against his chest. Inside the shoe was a black sock, the one he wasn’t wearing. Tucked inside the sock was a tiny bird. The wing will heal beautifully, he thought. And it did, right in time for spring.

PLANET Z

In Charlie Chaplin movies and old cartoons, starving people (or anthropomorphic characters) end up eating shoes.

“Why don’t they just sell their shoes and use the money to buy food?” I’d ask my parents.

“They’re in the woods, far from civilization,” they’d say. “Nobody to sell them to.”

Then the characters would have serious hunger delusions, and try to eat each other.

“Why don’t they just skip all that shoe-eating and eat each other?” I asked.

But my parents didn’t answer, as they were staring at me, hungry… starving… desperate…

Why did I ever allow them to take me camping.

Weekly Challenge #449 – Cranberries

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: CRANBERRIES

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of SHOE. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JOHN MUSICO

Cranberries
by John Musico

I moved from Massachusetts where cranberries grow wild to a job in Alaska.
Back home, I was famous for my cranberry pie. I picked the berries myself.
When I moved, I was anxious to be accepted by my new neighbors. I knew just how to do it. I went out berry picking.
I threw a yard party and urged everyone to have yet another slice of my prize pie.
What I didn’t know is that in Alaska grows the baneberry much resembling the cranberry. Baneberries contain protoanemonin causing GI symptoms followed by hallucinations and even cardiac arrest. I left town.

MUNSI

Assumptions Based on the Prompt “Cranberries”

By Christopher Munroe

American Thanksgiving!

Right?

I assume that’s what the prompt means.

I don’t understand how American holidays are structured, honestly. Our thanksgiving is your Columbus Day? I think?

Your football’s different than ours too, and it’s nearly impossible to get a proper Ceaser down there…

…and don’t get me started on baseball. If you want to watch a sport where a thing gets hit with a stick, watch hockey like normal people!

Ah well, at least your “hit-thing-with-stick” sport isn’t Cricket. I have zero idea how Cricket works…

But I digress.

My point is, it’s American Thanksgiving! Probably!

So: Thanks, Americans!

JEFFREY

Cranberries
by Jeffrey Fischer

Devon grew up in a devout, conservative household. Among the many taboos she learned was a prohibition on swearing, which was uncouth at best and blasphemous at worst. As a child, she never found this to be a problem; she never encountered a situation that could be improved with a timely epithet. If she ever needed one, however, she decided her all-purpose word would be “cranberries.”

Then Devon grew up and started working with lawyers, and learned their devious ways. Her colleagues found her to be polite and hard-working, but they could never understand her obsession with cranberries.

Trainer Drink
by Jeffrey Fischer

College kids learning to drink liquor often don’t like the taste of alcohol, so they like to ease into the process with trainer drinks: alcoholic beverages that taste more like candy than booze.

One legend has it that the marketing department at Ocean Spray invented the Cosmopolitan. One part vodka to two parts lime juice and three parts cranberry juice, the drink appealed to women because of its pink color and fruity taste. It was an alcoholic beverage that didn’t taste like one, a true trainer drink. And yet the primary benefit was to keep the cash registers at Ocean Spray very busy.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 81: Zombie

By the time George returned to the camera, night was drawing in and he was feeling distinctly jumpy roaming the darkened hospital. He caught himself involuntarily singing the Cranberries song, ‘Zombie’ under his breath – despite any supporting evidence, his mind was still convinced the zombie apocalypse had come.

He angrily dismissed the thoughts and changed the soundtrack in his head.

Unfortunately, whistling a happy tune only served to make him more afraid, particularly when he discovered a locked door bearing the legend: ‘Beta project – no unauthorised access’.

He charged the door, remembering – too late – such moves only work in films!

#2 – Sauce

I was told that cranberries are harvested by flooding the fields and letting the fruits float to the surface, where they are skimmed off.

It struck me as a brilliant idea – one that I could apply to a whole variety of crops… sadly, it hasn’t quite worked out.

Potatoes don’t float, neither do carrots, and mushrooms just went slimy in the water.

So I thought I’d give the tried and tested cranberries a go – but that didn’t work out either.

Foolishly, I harvested too soon after fertilising, and what floated to the surface wasn’t cranberries!

Slurry sauce anyone?

CHELSEA

Cranberries

They’re a staple in most houses around this time of year. Showing up on holiday tables between the first of October and the first of January.

You know what I’m talking about. You have all probably seen them, whether on your own holiday table or at a friend or relative’s house.

No matter how they are served, what they are served in, or how much someone tried to hide it, they always look vaguely like the can they came in and they just sit there.

This gelatinous substance that we all know so well is, of course, canned cranberry sauce.

TOM

That’s not Jell-O

My Aunt’s Thanksgiving Dinner was a wonder to behold. Soup to nuts it was. Possibly the most exotic offering on that table was the disk of gelatinous red. It occupied the area of the plate normally heaped with apple sauce. A density thrice Jell-O with a tenth its wiggle. Where adults got away with a nibble or a nosh, children were expected to down the whole serving. Further it was bad form to mix that with any other portion of food on the plate, which seem odd because everything else did get mixed together. Personally I really hate the stuff.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 73
“DOOM”
The Duke knew this love fest wasn’t going to suit the task at hand. “I got to bum these guys out.” Drawing in the great part of the remaining Tachyons the Duke bellowed out “DOOM” The stage filled with wailing, gnashing, and Lamentations. “Good,” said the Duke. Sparky cried “Why oh Lord are you getting medieval on our asses.” “Get over it Kid.” “Doctor what’s the plan?” The Doctor felt a light glow in his heart. “Stealth.” The bandit fell back into a less then helpful mood. He mumbles Doom Doom to himself. The sky shifted from green to red.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 74
“X”
As Banister crossed over into the Board land the first of EL Cid’s defenses was triggered. Waves of UV fog reduced visibility to 3 meters. “Oh I forgot to divulge that one,” said the bandit. “Why don’t I just drop you out the air lock,” said Smith. “Because I’m the only one who know how to …” “Direct a stream of Ortron particles at the parabolic mirror array to engage the tracking lights on the landing pad,” completed Sparky. El Cid stopped short. Spark aligned the Ortons. The landing pad lite up like a Christmas tree. The stage touched down on X marks the spot.

TURA

Cranberries
——–
The word “cranberry” derives from “cran”, a basket used to carry herring, and also used as a measure. “Cran” itself comes from the Old French “cragne”, a skull, but that in turn is a figurative meaning based on an older meaning of “bowl”. A skull is like a bowl, you see, a bowl of brains.

“Berry” can be traced back to the Proto-Germanic “bazja”, to chew, and then to the Sanskrit “babhasti”, to devour or destroy.

So symbolically, “cranberry” means “to feast on a bucket of brains”, which is why cranberry sauce proves that Thanksgiving is actually a zombie festival.

ANIMA

100 Years of Happiness

It sits, quivering on the table.

Joe passes, heading directly for the mashed potatoes.

Dianna goes by as well, staking a claim on the carrots and celery– “No corn sugar for me, it’s not on my diet”.

Uncle Harry thinks about it for a moment; but as his plate is about to avalanche onto the carpet, he opts to settle in at the last spot at the grownups table.

So I take the first jewel toned slice of perfect, smooth, sweet tang. Also a second, and a third. Fools! They know not what they have missed. I am in bliss.

SPATE

If I knew how to record on my phone… but shit, it’s hard enough to type never mind that I have to count my damned words by hand.

It wasn’t a huge storm but the snow was wet and heavy. We lost power at six-thirty on Wednesday evening.

The locals all have generators. Not us. Nor do we have a turkey or stuffing or pumpkin pie.

We do have a gallon of vodka infused with fresh cranberries and I’m drinking a big glass as I type.

Mom said to make the best of things.

Hey, I can see my breath!

SERENDIPITY

Dammit! Blue light’s flickered in my rearview mirror and I pulled over to the side of the road. Just my luck.

The officer poked around in the rear of the pickup.

“What’s in the sack ma’am?”

I blurted out, “Nothing, officer – just fruit”

“And that?”, he asked, pointing to the sticky red fluid oozing from the sack.

“Juice”

“Let’s see you taste it then, ma’am”

I scooped some on to my finger and licked it clean.

“Look… just cranberries”

As he drove away, I heaved, spitting the blood from my mouth – it had been a very close call!

LIZZIE

Peter hated cranberries and he simply couldn’t eat anything with the darn things in it. Thanksgiving was, as a result, a bit of a tricky time, especially because of his mother’s explosive temper. Anyone refusing to have her special cranberry sauce was an insult to her over-sized ego.

When Peter volunteered to cook this year’s meal by himself, his mother sneered. “You can’t cook!”

One thing is for sure, next year’s meal will not include cranberry sauce.

Peter made it a point of having cranberries decorating his mother’s grave and a nice shiny plaque saying “I’m not grateful for cranberries.”

NORVAL JOE

“Let’s go,” Superconductor said, pulling out a handgun and waving it toward the door.
“Me too?” The Crazy Old Cat Lady asked.
“Yeah. Come on.”
Dergle followed the old woman down a hallway beneath bare fluorescent tubes. Her hair, obviously dyed, glowed bright red in a shade somewhere between crimson and cranberry.
“Did you ever watch the ‘I Love Lucy’ show?” He asked her.
“Are you commenting on my hair?” she asked, obviously flattered.
“They say she used to dye her hair with human blood,” Superconductor said.
“You’re making that up,” Dergle said.
“Well, maybe. Okay, I did,” Superconductor admitted.
Suggested prompt. . . . . Chopped

DIONYSIUS

The First Thanksgiving

This pemmican is making me thirsty! said Ousamequin to allay the tension.

Annawan merely glared at Squanto, who smiled back in a way that enraged the the war-counselor of the Wampanoag. These illegal immigrants use salt not bearberries for flavor, he muttered.

Be nice! whispered Squanto, They’ll assimilate in time!

Their colloquy was interrupted by Captain Standish, who invited them to join in games such as Pin-the-Ninny, Hide the Frog in the Hopper, House, There’s a Draft for Annie (Who Feels a Draft?), Knots, Saltpeter Blowing Bubbles, Dick Drunk Drink, and Who Gets the Ball?

Kill them all, muttered Annawan.

PLANET Z

When I was young, we had big family Thanksgiving feasts, and everything was on the table. It was amazing.

But as I got older, I stopped going home for Thanksgiving.

Then, I stopped accepting the pity-dinner invitations from friends.

After I got married, we did smaller dinners. Turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. But she had to work later on holidays, and I just copped out with a cheap microwave turkey meal. And vodka.

What about the cranberries and pie.

Fine. Add them to the vodka, and you have a Cape Cod. Then light a pumpkin pie scented candle.

Weekly Challenge #448 – Community

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: COMMUNITY

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of CRANBERRIES. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

LADY BLUE

Listen to your higher selves. They know more than brothers.
by Blue sky

“We’re a learning community.”

“How so?”

“Every morning, Brother Mountebank preaches by the river, and we gather to sit and listen to his words.”

“So, what you’re saying, is that one assumed knowledgeable person passes their knowledge to a commune of ignorant people.”

“Basically, yes. We learn how to live based on the teachings of Brother.”

“I see. My understanding is that a learning community learns from each other as equals, sharing individual experience.”

“Brother hears voices from the higher self.”

“Well I do, too. And my higher self is telling me that I won’t be part of the audience.”

JOHN MUSICO

Community
by John Musico

When I first bought a house, I looked forward to living in a neighborhood like when I was a kid.
I remember those days fondly. I had been at just about every neighbor’s house countless times.
What I found instead; was that I’m at work all day and never stop off at anyone’s house.
Is it just this neighborhood? Then it dawned on me. The experience of a neighborhood I had as a kid was as a kid.
I was at that neighbor’s house playing with their children etc. while my parents were at work just as I am now.

MUNSI

Our Community

By Christopher Munroe

I’m proud of the community we’ve created.

We built replicants, from scratch, then programmed them to believe they were actual people, before dropping them into a perfect recreation of an early twenty-first century town.

In this recreation, they work, strive and live, believing themselves to be real human beings, believing their actions to matter in the grand scheme…

Believing nobody’s watching, taking notes.

There’s more conflict than we predicted, but they manage it among themselves, and to date the results we’ve gotten back have been… useful.

We’ve learned a lot, through their simulated lives, about how people lived back then…

JEFFREY

Community
by Jeffrey Fischer

Hello, children. I hope you’ve been well since we last talked. Now listen, I want to create a sense of community. You guys are spending a lot of time together, and it would be nice if you could get along, look out for one another, and so on. Honestly, nothing would warm my heart more than seeing some genuine friendships come out of this little group.

I know the shackles and locked doors don’t help, and mysterious disappearances of your roommates and neighbors may make you suspicious of each other, but, I implore you, don’t let that unpleasantness come between you. And believe me when I tell you that any screams you may hear are just screams of pleasure, I assure you…

Community Property
by Jeffrey Fischer

I explained the downsides of Communism to my Econ 101 students, but I saw a number of blank looks. I searched for an analogy they could relate to.

“How many of you have roommates?” Almost every hand shot up. “And how many have a common kitchen, refrigerator, and bathroom?” Nearly the same number of hands. “Ever had a roommate eat your food? Leave dirty dishes left in the sink? Make the bathroom so disgusting you think about waiting until you get to Starbucks?” Many vigorous nods.

“Then you’ve seen the wonders of community property in action: other people take your food and leave the place a mess, figuring someone else will deal with the problem. Eventually everyone goes dirty and hungry.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 80: Sixteen times

Finding the ‘Beta’ labelled security cameras was one thing, working out where exactly in the hospital they might be located was another thing entirely.

Sighing heavily, George picked up his roll of surgical tape and resumed his tour of the corridors, carefully taping over each security camera he came to, returning to the booth after each to identify which camera he’d found.

Sixteen weary trips back and forth later, he ruefully mused that he probably knew his way around the Park End Community Hospital better than its employees, but – more importantly – his determination had managed to locate camera ‘Beta 2’.

#2 – The Community Centre

The local community centre closed down last week. It was no surprise – after years of council spending on boarding-up windows, cleaning away graffiti and funding extra police patrols to deal with the druggies and layabouts that hung around outside, it was bound to happen.

It was the place we’d meet to argue about local projects; at times the community council almost came to blows over where to spend what little cash we had.

Most of the time we just disagreed, voting against each other and generally falling out.

Looking for community spirit?

At the community centre? No chance!

#3 – A real sense of community

Back in the good old days, they say, neighbours looked out for each other.

Grandma would leave her front door open and neighbours would pop in for a cup of sugar and maybe stop for a chat.

There was a real sense of community.

Personally, I think there still is – although just a little different now.

These days granny locks her front door.

The neighbours still pop in – they just kick the door in – help themselves to the sugar and anything else they can lay their hands on… Nothing’s changed.

Although they don’t stop to chat any more.

LIZZIE

From the breakfast table to the green garden and back, silence was part of life.

One day, a member of this community of a few dozen people thought “no more”. She felt like singing and that’s exactly what she did.

By nightfall, she had been expelled.

By the end of the week, the community had only two members left, its founders.

One turned to the other and said somberly “Words cannot express how disappointed I am…”

The other laughed. “That’s what you said, remember, when we started this thirty years ago. I guess we’re the only ones who hate words.”

CHELSEA

Community

It is said that our evolution as a spices is based on the fact that we gather together, forming units for support and protection.

It is very interesting and more than a little terrifying to see that as we develop more technology, technology that by its very nature makes it so that we no longer need to connect to each other in the same way for our mutual support and protection, that our society is more and more threatened. That there is more and more violence.

Maybe we should all put down the tech and connect with our community again.

SERENDIPITY

I live in a gated community: It’s a very exclusive address – we don’t let just anybody make their home here, you know.

We have a stringent vetting process and if you don’t fit our criteria, then I’m afraid you simply won’t make the grade – there are other places more suited to your sort.

It’s a very safe community too – security is tight, and once you’re in we expect you to abide by the rules, and the same goes for your visitors… We have very, very high standards.

Furnishings are pretty sparse though… especially here on death row.

TOM

Intentional Community

Frank grew up in a huge family, seven brothers and sisters, nine uncles, cousins beyond count. Oddly he had little contact with any family member after he made his way to the west coast. Frank would say “You’re stuck with family. You chose your friends.” Truth be told his intentional community was his family. Five couples had jointly purchased and 10 acres. Five little homes in a row. One by one Frank’s friends burn their mortgages. The community set up an emergency account to insure if any one person came to ruin they would not lost everything. That’s a community

ANIMA

PSA

We interrupt this normally scheduled program for an important Public Service Announcement…

Alert – Alert

There are people in your area that assemble coherent independent ideas, and should be considered dangerous.

Do not, I repeat, do not allow them to influence you into turning off your television.

They will encourage you to read books or spend time in contemplative thought.

Report anyone who would rather have a conversation in close physical proximity, rather than send a text or email. This is an early sign of deviant behaviour.

This has been a Group Think Community Alert, brought to you by The Hive.

SPATE

From Out of the Woods

Giving up the sophistication of city life when I relocated to this small
rural community was an adjustment tolerably made but still I have the
occasional moment.

As was the day a man emerged from the woods behind my house carrying a
shovel and a half-full lumpy burlap bag dripping some sort of dark red goo
that looked like burnt cranberry sauce.

I didn’t say a word but my look must have questioned him.

He squinted, put on his best local friendly smirk and offered, “Hunting
chipmunks, want some?”

“No thanks,” I said, “I get mine at the grocery store.”

(music: “City Slickers” by Brian Boyko / curator: freepd.com / Creative
Commons Public Domain)

DIONYSIUS

Flee from Me, Devil Fleas

In the beginning, contrary to what you’ve been told, the Devil created a mess. Billet and Doux were fleas on the Devil’s ass.

It’s hot down here, said Billet.

And smelly, said Doux.

Perfect! they said and took a big bite together.

Now the Devil, in his imperfect omniscience, overheard their laughter, and waxed even more wroth than was his wont. Perfection!? he roared. Get thee from behind Me, Satan!

Bite my puny red ass, muttered Doux, and see how you like it.

The Devil heard of course, didn’t like it, and cast them both out, where their friendship became the infinite community of us all.

NORVAL JOE

Superconductor flipped the lights on and Garbage Man followed into the room.
“Just what are you trying to prove to us with these video images?” The Crazy Old Cat Lady asked.
“A fairly extensive collection of memories, wouldn’t you say?”
“I understand that Superheroes would want a sense of community, but this is excessive,” Dergle said.
“Are you admitting you’re actually a hero?” Superconductor asked. “You just said Superheroes.”
“No I didn’t. I said, ‘Supervillains’.”
“No. You said, ‘Superheroes’.”
“I didn’t,” Dergle protested.
“Cat Lady. You heard him, didn’t you? He said, ‘Superheroes’.”
The Crazy Old Cat Lady only shrugged.

TURA

Community
——–
Do YOU know someone who is anti-community?

They don’t all live on their own, like in the movies, hiding behind closed doors, thinking their private thoughts. You could be talking to them every day. Do you ever notice that someone seems to be… elsewhere? Not participating fully? WITHHOLDING their thoughts from the community? They could be thinking ANYTHING AT ALL!!

Do them a favour. Report them to your local community officer. He will know how to safely deal with them, and when they’re eventually returned to your community, they’ll be sure to confess to everyone the error of their ways.

PLANET Z

Old Man Parsons was your typical “Get offa my lawn!” kind of geezer.
Old Man Williams, who lived next door, was the opposite.
“Come on over!” he’d shout. “The grass is lush and soft. And you’re welcome to the lemons on my lemon tree!”
So, the neighborhood kids would come over and play, and they’d pick the lemons and squeeze them into their waterbottles and drink.
And get sleepy. So sleepy.
“Come rest inside,” said Williams.
So, they came inside.
The kids were found the next day on Parson’s lawn, naked and confused.
And Parsons blasted them with his shotgun.

Weekly Challenge #447 – Bank

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: BANK

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of COMMUNITY. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JOHN MUSICO

I Rest On The Banks of Lullaby River
by John Musico

On the soft mossy banks of Lullaby River is where I yearned to be,
golden sunshine glows always on those warm banks, as the reeds sway ever so slow, and peacefully
On the soft mossy banks of Lullaby River is where I yearned to be,
time stands still, all one need do is breathe the sweet scent from nearby gardenias, which bloom eternally.
On the soft mossy banks of Lullaby River is where I yearned to be,
the babbling of the brook is as children laughing gleefully.
On the soft mossy banks of Lullaby River is where they buried me….

The Birth of Chase Bank

Young Chase marveled at his financial genius.
He shared his idea with his father.
I ask everyone to give me all their money. And, I charge them a fee for doing so. I invest it. If I profit, the money is mine. What do you think, not bad eh?
The father scoffed; “That’s absurd young man, why would anyone agree to such a foolish thing?”
The son continued. I will construct a huge vault patrolled by armed guards. I can’t be robbed so neither could they”. The father reflected; “Hmm, maybe you got something there son.” Chase bank was born.

MUNSI

On the Process of Memory

By Christopher Munroe

Every moment of my life, everything that matters, every face and name, good time and bad, everything I do still need to know.

The moments that, as a whole, have made me “Me”, and all I’ve learned and lived and loved and done, each thing I’ve wanted, every failure and success, every thing I’ve tried to do…

…I keep them near me at all times, close to me, dear to me, easily at hand should the time come when I need them, at my fingertips.

They’re spray-painted across the very walls of this fine city.

For I… Am Memory Banksey!!!

ANIMA

-Pennies from Heaven_

Mama! Mama! It’s raining pennies from heaven!
I swear girl, what an imagination you have!
It’s true, on my honour! – Can’t you hear it hitting the roof?
That’s just the rain. Make sure you put on your boots and raincoat if you go out to play. The last thing I need is you catching cold.
Jilly dutifully pulled on her boots – and grabbed the biggest bag she could find.
Outside, she not only picked up the pennies, but the dimes and quarters too. Moist change sparkled everywhere.
She laughed, splashing happily in puddles as made her way to the bank.

JEFFREY

Undertow
by Jeffrey Fischer

The river was swollen with recent rain and the current was strong. The path along the riverbank was peaceful, however, and she walked alone in quiet contemplation. One step was all it would take. One step into the raging river, to be caught in the undertow and from there carried to oblivion. The darkness could have her.

Yet she kept walking, one step and then another. She didn’t know where this path would end, and some small spark in her mind needed to know. The darkness would always be there. The undertow could wait for another day.

The Heist
by Jeffrey Fischer

Frank said, “Okay, guys, just one more explosive charge and we’re all set.” The robbers had tunneled into the basement of the bank and worked most of the night. They blew the vault open and the gang moved in.

But the C4 did more than destroy the steel vault. Mortar fell from the ceiling and support pillars began crumbling. Soon the entire bank had collapsed. Frank’s last thought was that it was often easier to get into a bank than out of one.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 79: Security booth

George didn’t make it to intensive care – he was sidetracked en route by a flickering glow from a small anteroom: a security booth, with a bank of still-functioning monitors covering one wall.

He became pretty excited at this find – if nothing else, he could keep safe here tonight and keep an eye on his surroundings without leaving the safety of the room.

Then he noticed the labels beneath each screen, describing the camera locations. One set in particular caught his attention: four views neatly labelled ‘Beta 1’ to ‘Beta 4’.

His heart raced – he was finally on to something!

#2 – Sperm Bank

My first visit to the sperm bank wasn’t a resounding success – firstly, they insisted on an appointment… “Can’t I just give my deposit to one of your girls?”, I asked? Apparently not.

I enquired what sort of interest I could expect, only to receive a hard stare and be told they had no interest in my deposit – it’s strictly business they said.

But I really upset them when I asked about withdrawing at short notice… perhaps to splash out on the girlfriend, for her birthday?

They escorted me from the premises.

So I’m saving it in a biscuit tin instead.

CHELSEA

Bank

We put all kinds of things in banks. Money no surprise there, but other things too. They are the best place to hid things you don’t want others to find. Your deepest darkest secrets locked away forever or your most precious items safeguarded for the next generation for a nominal fee.

We also store other more unusual things in banks and interestingly enough, not usually for ourselves. Blood banks and organ banks are used to store things for others that we have donated either willingly or posthumously.

Makes me wonder when banks acquired so many levels and so much power.

TOM

Fire Boss

Rudy released the payload into the canyon. He had to bank hard left to put the plane on the fire line. To get out of the canyon he had to bank hard right to top the edge of the fire. Then a final bank to compensate the effect of the lake directly below. On pass 13 over the wild fire one banking brushed the tree line, set the wing a blaze, the only safe place to dig the plane was the lake. The AT-802 disappear into the water as the fire creased the ridge and burnt to the short line.

First we kill all the bankers
Once a upon a time I wrote a check for $20. Unfortunately a balance of $19 caused an overdraft charge of $20. Shame on me. There was no longer any money in the account so I went to the merchant and gave him a $20 bill, then went to the bank paid for a stop payment on the check, $20 for the overdraft and another $20 to have some padding in the account. The teller promised me the new balance and cancelation would be posted before reconciliation. Three days later I got yet another $20 overdraft because of a rounding error and the second submit on the check they failed to do a stop payment. The fucking postage stamp on the letter was more that the difference in the balance. I called the main branch to seek satisfaction, they told me I could file a claim that would cost, you guessed it, $20 to process. That evening I glued a 20 cent stamp on to a brick and sent it through a $1000 of plate glass at the main branch of the bank. Was it wrong, yes. Was it transcendently satisfying, yes. Would I do it again, in a heartbeat.

LIZZIE

The remodeling of the offices was finished after two long months. The employees coughed their way through heavy dust; many continued to suffer for months. When one of them, Charles, fell ill, no one was surprised. As soon as Charles returned to work, they noticed that he could breathe much better. They asked him if he could help them. Charles never told them directly what he did, but he muttered “I’ll help you,” whipping off a bit of saliva from the corner of his mouth. In the end, remodeling didn’t stop at the offices; the staff got remodeled as well.

SERENDIPITY

I planned the bank raid meticulously – months of careful planning, intensive observation and in-depth research were about to come together.

Everything was going perfectly to plan: alarm safely disabled and security locks defeated, I was about to achieve my goal.

A cold draught escaped the vault, as the door slowly swung open and there, inside was the treasure I’d come to find.

No gold, silver or banknotes to be found in this vault – for this was a different sort of bank…

All the fresh, healthy, human blood I could ever wish for… gallons of the lovely liquid!

SPATE

First Seraphim Savings Bank

Are you tired of trying to live the chaste life of a saint in hopes of a
happy hereafter?

Do you find yourself uncomfortable leaving your personal salvation in the
hands of some remote third party?

Well, here at First Seraphim Savings Bank you can deposit your soul in one
of our hermetically sealed, climate controlled, Satan proof vaults and go
party like the devil with full confidence that when it’s time to move
towards that big bright white light, your record will be clean as a whistle.

First Seraphim Savings Bank: we keep souls sinless with interest.

Member FDIC.

ZACKMANN

Guido and Nunzi sat on the bank in front of the credit union just watching the river flow and listening to JG Banks and Jen discuss the latest bank heist movie on Talk Nerdy 2 Me waiting for the food bank to open. A gross of Spam cans had fallen of a truck and Guido wished to make a deposit as long as they didn’t ask too many questions. People mysteriously disappeared if asking too many questions around Guido or if considering answering the wrong questions in court. Nobody know why. Just ask anyone. You can bank on their silence.

DIONYSIUS

Stay Hungry

They skirted the range of trees bounding the mountain of waste. The usual bank of clouds in the west. No one knew what it meant. A movement made them stop.

He remembered standing beside a mound of iced crab legs. He’d convinced Lisa that afternoon with the line that it might be their last chance. Ever. She couldn’t focus, though. A refugee to the midwest.

He could see them now. The yell — that was their sign to eat.

He often remembered the almost empty room with the crab legs, and the line they’d always used: All this is for you. Stay hungry.

LADY BLUE

(Last week’s)

Physical Attraction
by Blue berry

I love your eyes. Large, glistening white orbs with the most brilliant cerulean blue irises that stare at me from out of their glass container. Aren’t you glad we switched from formaldehyde to vodka my sweet? They preserve that blue so well.

I love your heart. Strong, shapely, and not a single blockage anywhere that I could see. You took very good care of it, didn’t you, love?

Most of all, I love your brain – your raised, perfectly formed gyri, separated by the delicate indentations of sulci. Took me forever to take it out of you. Until you stopped moving.

(This week’s)

Bank Heist Gone Wrong
by the true Blue

I took out the driver with the sack of pennies that I had stolen from the bank. Who knew that the force of the impact would shatter his skull and render him rather incapacitated.

So incapacitated, that he keeled over onto the steering wheel, which, from his weight, spun to the left. It sent our bus careening into the path of an oncoming truck that had been carrying a load of fat, chubby….aliens? Wait. ZOMBIE killer aliens!

Okay, how about this…

…careening into the path of a..

-looking out my window- Dodge caravan?

Well, balls! I hate writer’s block.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle and the Crazy Old Cat Lady were escorted from the small waiting room down a long passage to another room. It was dark and light from the doorway shown upon a few wooden chairs in the center of the room.
“Sit,” Garbage Man told them and closed the door, leaving them in total darkness.
On the wall in front of them a bank of monitors lit up showing video and still images captured by closed circuit TV’s.
Half of the monitors had images of Dergle. However, what was truly frightening, was many of the images were from months before.

TURA

Bank
——–
At first, people traded favours on credit, remembering who owed what. Then they used pieces of gold to keep track. Then they stored the gold in banks, and traded pieces of paper saying what gold they had. Then they got rid of the gold and just traded the paper. Then computers were invented and they got rid of the paper. Then the internet was invented and now a bank isn’t even something you can see.

So how about we go back to trading favours? You hand over that Rolex, and I won’t shoot you. You can’t say fairer than that!

PLANET Z

There used to be these organizations called blood banks that processed and stored human blood for emergencies. But now that universal blood substitute can be manufactured as needed, the blood banks went away.

Same with organ transplant lists. Bioprinters took care of that desperate and difficult need.

Everything is digital credit these days, so financial banks are all on the net, staffed by artificial intelligence and managed by just a few humans here and there as per government regulations.

The only banks I know are growing are solar array banks. To power the AI masters.

Until we smash them all.

Weekly Challenge #446 – Brain

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: BRAIN

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of BANK. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

MUNSI

The Perfect Team

By Christopher Munroe

We’re the perfect team, if you think about it.

Me, the brains, you, the one doing what I say without question.

In fact, maybe you shouldn’t bother thinking about it.

Take my word for it.

We’re the perfect team.

And, once this day is over, thanks to you, I’ll be rich.

You’ll be either dead or imprisoned and, upon questioning, you’ll realize I never even gave you my name.

But that’s not important right now.

What’s important is that you trust me, and do what I say without question.

That’s the way this team works.

Got it?

Good.

Let’s roll…

JEFFREY

Smart Alec
by Jeffrey Fischer

Alec was the smartest kid in his sixth-grade class, the biggest brain. Everyone knew that, even the new kids. In fact, if new kids didn’t hear it from some other source, Alec told them himself. After all, what was the point of being the smartest kid if no one else knew?

Despite his brains – and did Alec mention how bright he was? Oh, he did. Good – one thing baffled him: why did so many of his classmates seem so unappreciative of his genius and keep being the snot out of him?

Ice Breaker
by Jeffrey Fischer

He kept the brain in a formaldehyde-filled jar on his desk, a real conversation piece. Guests would invariably comment on the unusual decoration and ask how he came by it. His stock reply: “Oh, I killed the last visitor to ask that question and dissected him.” Both he and the visitor would have a good laugh, breaking the ice.

Reducing tension in the room also made it easier to catch the visitor off guard. He preferred slipping poison into a drink, as it left the brain intact. He would take the body to the basement, remove the brain, and burn the rest. Then the new brain would occupy the place of honor, and the old would join the others on a basement shelf.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 78: Brainstorm

Concerned the daylight hours were passing, and with night drawing on, the knowledge that he’d be spending the night alone in the hospital weighed heavy on his mind.

“Use your brain George… think!”, he commanded himself.

Sluggishly the word ‘brain’ wandered around his mind until it collided with the word ‘coma’, followed by, ‘concussion’.

Of course! He’d sustained a head injury… what if he’d been elsewhere in the hospital, before he was admitted to the ward?

What if there was information he’d not yet found?

Once again he found himself trawling the corridors, now with a new goal – Intensive Care.

#2 – Dangerous

If I had a brain, I’d be dangerous! At least, that’s what my teachers used to tell me.

I was pretty sure I did have a brain, but I certainly wasn’t dangerous – couldn’t be further from the truth. I was one of the nice guys, completely inoffensive and affable.

Until the accident.

After cutting me from the wreckage, what was left of my body was useless, so the doctors took the decision to transplant my brain.

Now it forms the neural core of the global tactical weapons network.

I am very dangerous.

I guess my teachers were right, after all.

#3 – Decisions, decisions

Pity the poor octopus… with a brain in each tentacle even simple decisions have eight possible outcomes! It’s not uncommon for the poor mollusc to get into huge arguments with itself over the most straightforward decisions: things like what channel to watch on television, or where to go for coffee.

Occasionally, it can result in an eight-sided punch-up – never a pretty sight!

Poor octopus… but it could be much worse.

Pity the poor sea slug, for example: with a mouth that’s also its arse!

(Coming to think of it, I know a few people with that problem too!)

CHELSEA

Brain

The human brain as we understand it can be identified at 9 weeks into gestation.

From that point on it is responsible for every single thing that happens within your body up until the moment of death. Everything.

Really think about that for a second….

Every breath you take, every blink of your eyes, every word you speak, every sensation and emotion you feel and action you take both anises and unconscious is controlled by your brain. There is not a single thing you will ever do that is not controlled by your brain.

It is the ultimate big brother!

ANIMA

The president had not done a good job controlling the epidemic; there were only pockets in remote areas that appeared to be getting on. Rural Idaho was surviving: preppers there had been on high alert forever.
He took in as many governmental refugees as possible, but the reality was DC had been easy prey. He doubted they would survive much longer.
Absentlymindedly, he scratch a tick bite. The White House was infested with rats and other vermin, since basic services halted more than 4 months ago.
2 thoughts crossed his mind: “Damn, I am thirsty” and, “Let them eat Brains.”

LIZZIE

Cal unscrewed the cables and unplugged them. Then he pressed “detach”. He had been taught well. He was never to touch the “reset” area, that small circle the size of a coin.

Many failed to obey and didn’t resist temptation. They touched it. Now, they were beyond repair, doomed to perform menial tasks.

Cal was proud of himself. He always did everything right. He removed his brain and placed it inside the upgrade box. He didn’t like the looks of the new technician though …

After Cal got his brain back, he was placed in the Sanitation Department. Damn smug….bzzzzzt…

SERENDIPITY

“I ate his liver with some fava beans, and a nice chianti…”

Such a fantastic line! And, being a gastronomic daredevil, I had to try it!

Sadly, it didn’t work out all that well – I overcooked the beans, and the liver was just a little tough for my liking. Perhaps it was my cooking, but things never quite turn out like in the movies.

Next time I’m thinking of trying that scene from ‘Hannibal’ – the one where Lecter cooks pieces of Krendler’s brain and feeds them to him.

How about lunch, next Sunday?

And, of course, you’ll be my guest.

TOM

Unlikely to Succeed

He was a brain. Wasn’t always. Didn’t get good at math till his 30’s. Overcame both Dyslexia and ADD through the focused maturity only age can produce. Tutored a generation of nursing students in the finer points of Algebra. He was able to memorize a 1000 digits of Pi. Could do the derivation of the Quadratic Formula in Klingon. Wrote a paper on a new algorithm for multiplication and discover a class of regular concave polyhedron base on odd sided polygons. If you asked him how he got so competent, he’d tell you it was through sure brute force.

TURA

Brain
——–
It is a rule that the more fiendishly clever the plans of an evil genius, the more surely a five-year-old could spot their fatal flaws. Brainiac therefore recruited Dummiac, a human with the superpower of being five years old. Thereafter, Brainiac would not attempt any fiendish plan that failed the Dummiac test.

Brainiac and Dummiac together were unstoppable, and would have taken over the entire Multiverse, had not Dummiac tripped over his shoelaces and prematurely detonated Brainiac’s superweapon. The Justice League soon captured Brainiac, and imprisoned him on a planet where no five-year-old was allowed to approach within a light-year.

DIO

BrainPlugs

I remember I think I remember brains before BrainPlugs. Not as orderly as circumspect as but then we have learned to remember the effort to remember. Many were sceptical qv I was about this is science. Infinite insight infinite information your brain on science Plug In! today. Priced for everyone models priced for upgrade we came out of solus ipse qv for upgrade for upgrade for upgrade os error brain restart brain restarted I remember brains before BrainPulpPlugs Plugs memory error not remembering I remember science your brain on science I remember not remembering information words I remember epiphany qv.

The Brains Behind Pa

Ma always reminded us that she was the brains behind Pa whenever Pa did something stupid. She took credit for the smart things as well, so we concluded that Pa was her puppet.

But that only made us start to doubt Ma. If she was the brains behind Pa, why didn’t she do a better job? We came to suspect some kind of mental defect, probably inherited, in ourselves.

The inevitable question was, had we inherited this defect solely from Ma, partly from Pa, or from both? And, if the last, were we somehow even more defective than either Pa or Ma? Mentally deficient puppets, if that made sense.

Brain in a Vat

At first, Angel couldn’t believe he was her match. She admitted it was nice not to worry about him always trying to touch her. Touching was simply annoying.

She even came to understand why the brain is the largest erogenous zone. Darryl was all brain. But he mostly preferred staying home in his vat. He could travel anywhere there.

Secretly, Angel began to fantasize tumbling down a hill, bicycle crashes, bodies pressing down on her uncomfortably. Darryl remained content, even in the back of a closet under a bag of sweaters. Angel grew skeptical of life and eventually sold everything, including Darryl, in an apartment sale.

NORVAL JOE

The door to the room where Dergle sat swung open and an elderly woman hobbled in. Stoop shouldered, grey haired and chunky, she smiled, but her eyes seemed wildly evil.
Dergle stood and offered her the one chair while Long John’s hackles rose and he growled.
“Sorry, Ma’am,” Dirgle said. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
“It’s okay,” she cackled. “He probably just smells my cats on me.”
“Oh,” Dergle said. “Are you the Cat Woman?”
“You’re obviously not the brains of this organization. I have more than fifty cats in my apartment.” I’m the Crazy Old Cat Lady.”

PLANET Z

I know a few jokers who have asked people to show up at their funeral dressed in a black robe and skeleton mask while carrying a scythe.
However, I’m worried that more than one person would show up as The Grim Reaper.
You know, because it would make kids wonder if The Grim Reaper is real.
Just like seeing more than one Santa Claus messing up the magic of Christmas for them.
I’d rather show up dressed as Igor, with a shovel and an organ transport cooler.
“Brains? Nah, Master has enough of those. I’m here for the open bar.”

Weekly Challenge #445 – X

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: X

We’ve got stories by:

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of BRAIN. Scroll up and click on Weekly Challenge to learn how to join us!

JOHN MUSICO

The World Seems Surreal,
a.k.a. the “growth” of knowledge
by John Musico

Based upon equations fine,
the scientist builds by paradigm.
Like an inverted pyramid that ever grows,
The rows above it; derived from those below.
Any small flaw in fact grows and grows,
it hides in derivations… but no one knows.
If A=B and B=C then A equals C,
to that; we would agree.
However if B actually doesn’t =C,
then A’s in question, don’t you see?
If just one fact ain’t that great;
to build exponentially is its fate.
Soon the world and its surroundings,
Becomes confusing and confounding.
What they never realized-
is that their reality was synthesized.

LADY BLUE

A TSA Testimonial
by the Blue streak

“She wore titty patches beneath the sweater. In the shape of X’s, your honor.”

“So, because of these titty patches, you were unable to do your job?”

“Yessir. They were distracting. I zoomed in on the X-ray scan to see what they said.”

“And what did they say?”

“Your honor, is this really important? Clearly, the defendant neglected his duties, and he let that terrorist sneak the bomb onto the plane. 332 people died because a TSA agent with lots of libido saw titty patches?!”

“They said, ‘X marks the spot,’ your honor.”

“Yes, they certainly did, didn’t they?”

ANIMA

-X marks the spot-
The heist was supposed to be simple.
It started as a three man team: A, logistics, B, firepower and C, vehicles.
C took it upon himself to hire brothers D, E and F to boost and modify the required fleet.
They needed cousin G (a DMV clerk) to alter all the paperwork.
And it just got worse after that…
When contracted, I wanted to be J, crew translator, since A is Canadian and most the others are from sundry Central American countries; Instead, I got X, standing on the corner, stuck holding a red and white discount store shopping bag.

JEFFREY

The Equalizer
by Jeffrey Fischer

The name’s Summer, Barry Summer. I’m an operative. They call me the Equalizer, ’cause that’s my business. I knock down the big guys, bring ’em to the level of the little people.

When they told me about the mysterious Mr. X, I was intrigued. His rep said he could take your figure, any amount, and guarantee a huge return. This I had to see.

It took some time, but I finally tracked him down. He was just an imposter, leaning to one side like he was a big shot or something. I straightened him right up and looked him in the eye. I recognized him, all right – he was none other than Mister Plus. I subtracted him right off the board.

First Contact
by Jeffrey Fischer

The shrill alarm jolted Carstairs out of his seat. His job was to monitor X Band transmissions for NASA’s Deep Space Network, but nothing had come through before other than routine reports from NASA’s own missions. Until now.

Carstairs called the emergency number, and within minutes the room was filled with scientists. Some traced the source of the signal while linguistics experts tried to make sense of the transmission.

“It’s coming from Mars!” exclaimed one of the scientists.

“What does it say?” asked another.

Baines, the linguist, checked his calculations and frowned. “I think,” he said nervously, “they have ordered 124 Domino’s pizzas with all the toppings.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 77: X doesn’t mark the spot

The big question was where exactly George should look for an answer – it must be somewhere in the hospital, and he was determined to find it.

He’d pursue a methodical hunt through potential locations – starting with offices and administrative areas, ruling out the wards as unlikely candidates. Grabbing several rolls of surgical tape from a nurses’ station, he began his task, marking the door of rooms he’d searched with a large ‘X’ of tape.

Every filing cabinet, cupboard and drawer was opened, but after hours of searching, he’d covered an entire hospital wing and was no closer to his goal.

#2 – Algebra

“If AB is equal to half XY, then what is the value of X?”

He may as well have asked me for the square root of cheese!

None of it made any sense: algebra, fractions, trigonometry… it was all Greek to me, and coming to think of it, I was pretty useless at languages too – including English!

So much for the left side of the brain, you’d reckon I’d have some artistic ability to make up for logical deficiencies?

Wrong again.

I can’t paint, sing, or play an instrument.

Beats me how I became a teacher in the first place!

TOM

COPYMAN

The boys on the 3rd floor were in pitch mode. “X is for Xylophone”

“That sucks.” “Oh yea, do better.” “X is for Xenophobe.” “What the fuck does that mean?” “Pinhead Xenophobia is a fear of the other.” What other?” “All others.” “That sucks a totally fearful super villain.” “NO NO zero charisma, he causes xenophobia and wares a Guy Fox mask.”

“How about X is for the Unknown?” “Get real.” “You’re a moron.” “No you’re a moron.” “I got it, I got it X is for Ten.”

“Lame.”

In the end the studio settled on “X is for Xerox ?”

SPATE

The Ex’s

His first wife loved it rich and utterly decadent. Drizzle chocolate sauce
on anything and her lower lip would quiver.

Wife number two was the opposite. She liked it bare and basic. Just a
banana; peeled, of course. Maybe brushed with a light coat of clover honey.

The third wife had a penchant for lovely slices of homemade strawberry
rhubarb pie with fresh whipped cream on top.

Pity that he could remember such intimate details of their dessert
preferences yet, once again, call out the wrong wife’s name at the most
inappropriate time.

Now he’s searching for wife number four.

(“Goldenshteyn” by Rozsa / rozsaband.com / curator: freemusicarchive.org /
WFMU recording / Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0)

MUNSI

On Problem Solving

By Chris Munroe

Good morning, class. Today’s assignment; Solve for X.

Because X demands solutions, and X won’t be trifled with when it comes to getting what he wants.

And, as you know, X, or “The Mysterious Dr. X” as he prefers to be called, does have your loved ones hostage, meaning that you will not want to fail him.

You will not want to fail him.

Oh no.

The Mysterious Dr. X is not a man to be trifled with, as those who have come upon him will be only too quick to tell you.

He will not be failed.

So: Solve.

SERENDIPITY

Call me an old romantic if you like, but I see nothing wrong in giving a little kiss to say goodbye.

Nothing over the top… Just the equivalent of a discrete ‘X’ that you might add to a greeting on a card to a loved one.

I do find I have to explain myself to my victims though, who rarely understand the significance of my actions.

Bound and terrified, they find it hard to comprehend why I should plant a single chaste kiss gently on their forehead.

So I tell them as I carefully take aim: “‘X’ marks the spot”

TURA

X
——–
“There’s no such letter as X.

“What is it? A cross, not a proper letter. Now, R or G, those have proper shapes, but X, that’s what illiterate people make for a signature. You think we’re all called Ximenes or Xerxes? It doesn’t even have its own sound.

“Then take Y and Z. That’s ‘why’, then sleep, right? It means they don’t want you asking questions. The whole alphabet’s a subliminal suggestion. Don’t think, don’t question, just obey. You wonder why illiterates can’t get jobs? No-one’s allowed to employ us, we’re too dangerous, not brainwashed sheep.”

Said the wild-eyed beggar.
——–

ZACKMANN

“I was told you are The Man Called X like in the guy they did the radio show about but you would have to be at least one hundred years old.” said the statesman.

“I would indeed, That was my grandfather. X has become a bit of a family title. He was Senior or XS, my father is Two X, and I’m X Cubed but my friends call me Mister Thurston, they are very formal.” said Ken.

“X we want your help rescuing the Siamese.”

“Thailanders?” asked Ken.

“No someone kidnapped the prime minister’s cat in order to influence legislation .”

DIO

Solve for X

It hadn’t greened yet, but my great pleasure was watching her toddle in the backyard.

I didn’t notice a thistle that had sprouted over to one side until she was squatting next to it. Her arm jerked back in a way that grabbed me viscerally, but she didn’t move otherwise.

I went back later and cut it down long before I noticed her standing at the back door.
She stood close to the place for minutes.

Then she ran over to hug my leg. I picked her up and saw big tears had filled her eyes. We held each other tightly, but my only thought was, What have I done?

All My Exes: A 100-Word Anthology

Malcolm and Louis X execrating parallax ex nihilo in exasperation. King’s pax vobiscum.
Extravagantly coveting my neighbor’s ex on x. Ex cetera.
Ex ante examining X ex-items ex-dividend extended. Foxed out.
Texting exiting the X Games because of BMX XYY testing. Big boys on bikes.
Underexuberantly tictactexing. Xanax.
Indexing extentuation in IMAX XXX x-ray FX. Next.
Exhibiting Rex, the sex-hex Mexican’s x-rated flexing. Hixolé!
Axing: ox, XLT, exorbitant Apollo X, trans-XYZ? X-Men.
Quixote Sextet poleaxed, xylophone nixed, xboxed axeman taxing with sexist fixation excuses in Lexus taxi exit. Fiat Phoenix!
Exhorting Exene with an X-X-Men mix for Xmas. Minxed messages, execrable — eh?
X-Men 1040X-filing. Comix!?
Crosskisses, pardonnez-moi, :x

X Marks

X was a variable. It took the place of different values. At least she remembered that, somehow.

A word she couldn’t remember, at first. I think in Hegel’s view, she said, the Greeks X. A whole thought. It’ll come to me X.

Like using that, that, um X, to search and the list had gaps, part of the internet X. More X every time.

Then a face. An X of Xs around it — so familiar — and an X remembered on its own. Mistake. X is a mistake. The face an X.

Until it was all X, XXXXXXX. Period.

LIZZIE

“X marks the spot,” said Sir Thomson a bit too merrily after crashing his plane and killing Lady Thomson.

Mr. Crawford, their guest, was extremely annoyed, to say the least. The idea of flying over Sir Thomson’s deserted island seemed quite idiotic from the get-go.

Persistent as always, Sir Thomson dug until he found a box. Surprisingly, a cell phone emerged.

“Our salvation,” said Sir Thomson, oblivious of the fact that the cell tower of that area had been knocked down by his hazardous flying.

X marked the spot alright, it marked the spot where Mr. Crawford waited and waited.

NORVAL JOE

Long John used Dergle as a spring board he flew toward Superconductor, locking his teeth onto the lapel of the leader’s suit. Long John growled and thrashed about, refusing to let go.
Garbage Man pulled at the dog until, with a loud rip, dog and lapel tore away.
“Okay,” Superconductor conceded. “Take you infernal canine and wait in that room. We’ll consider your application.”
Behind the door marked, “X”, Dergle found a chair, a small table and a book. He waited nervously, paging through the book, “The legend of Ronald Reagan”, wishing the door had lead to a bathroom, instead.

CHELSEA

There has been a debate for centuries, for millennia even about the underlying difference between men and women. It has ranged through such topics as social obligation, societal morays, physical and mental ability, wardrobe and other esthetic considerations. All of these debates designed to make one gender or the other feel inferior.

At the end of the day, there is truly only one difference between men and women. It is the most fundamental, rooted right down in the very basic level of what makes up a human being.

The difference between men and women is a plane and simply X.

PLANET Z

Nobody taught Old Rufus to write, so when folks asked him to sign his name on something, he’d just mark it with an X.
It wasn’t like he could read what he was signing. And experience had taught him that what people told him he was signing wasn’t always the same as what he was signing. Or, if they told him, he couldn’t really understand all the fancy words and legal mumjo-jumbo.
That’s why Old Rufus carried a loaded shotgun around. Anybody who tried to screw him out of anything, he’d mark them with a large hole in the chest.