Category: Weekly Challenge

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

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

We’ve got stories by:

• Anima Zabaleta
• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Lady Blue
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• Spate
• Zackmann
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Danny
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

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

ANIMA

“Not to night, dear.”
Harrumph. Not married 18 months and already getting shut down. Headaches. Bad days at work. Arguments with family. Hurricanes on the horizon.
Dad gave me some advice when I first got married. I thought he was full of it.
“Every time you get some action your first year of marriage, put a bean in jar. Year 2, take a bean out every time you have sex. Hehehe, you will never run out”
I sure hope he’s wrong, ’cause right now I am looking at a hill of beans.
The opposite of “in the mood” is DOOM.

JOHN

Doom
by John Musico

So far up to the water’s surface; I know I won’t make it.
Now falling, falling, but no bottom in sight.
I will to move, and barely can, then, I can’t at all.
All senses mixed, blinding sound, deafening light.
Doom is upon me.
This place that reads abandon ye all hope.
That is the ultimate doom, hope lost, and so, any talents to spare me completely gone.
So, I start with mustering back my hope.
I just might make it to the surface…
I just might soon see the bottom of the pit.
I choose to fight, and live.

The Blanket of Doom Descends

Jim thought; “How will I drive after losing my leg? Hey, you’re supposed to drive that way! Okay, I drive home to my wife, oh yeah; she left me, and, took the house.
I’ll sleep at my office! No, I lost my job, and with it; the company car…
I’ll take a cab to a hotel” Jim opened his wallet: broke. Then Jim broke.
He held his arms out, threw his head back, wearily closed his eyes, and could muster hope no longer.
The clock of doom ticked louder and louder till deafening. Then, all went black, and Jim collapsed.

Doom Approacheth, a Nightmare

A moth caught in a web. That really must be a terrifying experience. The more the moth struggles, the more wrapped up in the web. In the meantime, the spider waits. When exhaustion overtakes the moth, the spider begins a slow approach towards the moth. The spider’s beak extends and fills with a paralyzing venom. Then the spider pounces and skewers the moth. The frenzy silences but not the muffled screams of the moth, paralyzed, but still alive. It matters not to the spider. The gangly spider
begins slowly sucking the blood from the moth as it’s belly swells visibly.

JEFFREY

How to Succeed in Business
by Jeffrey Fischer

“How many people do you need for the project?” Joanna’s boss asked her.

“At least four.”

“I’ll give you two. Have you thought about your budget?”

“Two hundred thousand, and six weeks.”

“Okay, you can have fifty grand. And I want everything wrapped up in a month.” Joanna shook her head and left her boss’s office. This project was doomed from the start.

Five weeks later, as the project came in over budget and incomplete, Joanna and her team were fired. Her boss collected a big bonus for reducing personnel costs. He thought that project succeeded admirably.

The Torture Chamber
by Jeffrey Fischer

I gripped the arms of the chair. Beads of sweat formed on my brow and trickled down my face. I had a sense of impending doom. Then the door opened. A man stood in the shadows, just outside my field of vision. My worst fears were realized when I heard the whine of a drill. I clenched the chair arms still tighter and vowed that I wouldn’t cry out in pain. They could get me into this chair, but they would never break me!

“Now, Mr. Fischer, this won’t hurt a bit,” said the man, the drill in his hand. The sadistic bastard, I thought. “It’s just a small cavity,” the dentist continued. “We’ll have you out of here in no time.”

“That’s great, Doctor, but don’t worry about me. I’m made of tough stuff,” I lied.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 75: Medical report

Subject: George Attwell

History: Car accident, concussion, coma, no lasting effects.

Scenario: Beta Four

Prognosis: Subject has shown some signs of improvement, however initial assessment indicates that he is unlikely to pull through and should be considered a borderline case. Possibly some merit in further monitoring of progress, however consensus of opinion is that subject is ultimately doomed and unlikely to survive. Progressive failure is anticipated.

Recommendation: Continue observation but intervention is not indicated if subject does not improve.

The single sheet report ended with a scrawled signature at the foot of the page, and a large red stamp: ‘FAILURE’

#2 – George’s Story – Part 76: What the hell does that mean?

George’s hands shook as he finished reading the report.

What sort of a hospital was this, and what the hell did they mean by ‘ultimately doomed’?

George couldn’t imagine any doctor using such terminology, neither could he comprehend why an injury should be described as having ‘no lasting effects’, yet he was considered unlikely to survive. The more he discovered, the less sense any of it made.

And what was with the ‘failure’ stamp and the Beta Four thing?

George began ransacking the office, determined to get to the bottom of things, but to no avail.

The answer lay elsewhere.

LIZZIE

Doom was an unhappy robot that got tired of doing robot stuff and wanted to become human. The problem with that decision was the fact that Doom had no idea about how to be human. Doom tried crying. Doom tried smiling. Doom tried sneezing. Nothing worked. One day, Doom’s neighbor robot Calamity came over for tea. They engaged in a philosophical conversation about human beings and Calamity thought Doom’s ambition of becoming one was utterly horrendous, but Doom wouldn’t give up. Halloween was right around the corner and Doom would be a human, even if only for a few hours.

TOM

Rudy did not particularly care for first person shooters, but his friend Max love them. They play till their fingers bleed. Got world class good at the game. On their third deployment in county the friends saved their platoon from enemy cross fire. During the army’s interviews for the Congressional all the survivors said Rudy and Max keep chanting “DOOM DOOM DOOM, they did the impossible in a impossible situation. They buried them side by side at Arlington. By decree of the Senate, no cross, star, or crescent graced their stones. Just the carved icon of the video game Doom

BLUE

Dating Woos
by Fifty Shades of Blue

My Asian mother told me, “Don’t date until you’re 40. Don’t wear makeup until you graduate and have to look pretty to get a job, and don’t flirt with boys.”

“Why not?” I’d ask.

“Because you don’t want to destroy your life. You need to get a job and have a good future, first.”

“What is a good future, mom?”

“You’ll be a rich doctor, and make lots of money.”

When I dated my first guy at 16, my dad sat in a darkened room, with tears streaming from his eyes. “My daughter is doomed.”

I hid the nail polish.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Anatomy Lesson
by Blue Needs to Switch to Decaf

Class was doomed. It was stiflingly hot and humid; an open invitation for the afternoon drowsies.

So I pulled out the big gun. Literally.

“Class, this is a baculum.” Sleepy eyes widened with growing curiosity at the sight of the nearly 2-foot bone sitting at my desk. I declared proudly, “A penis bone.”

Suddenly, everyone woke up.

“Professor, what’s that in the middle? It has a joint?!”

“No. That was a compound fracture that calcified and healed over.” The males winced. “And in case you’re wondering, humans don’t have baculum.”

There was a universal sigh of relief.

“Thank goodness!”

SERENDIPITY

It seemed like a good idea – the exercise would do him good, and he’d maybe lose a few pounds too.

Then the fears set in… What if he slipped, propelled backwards by the machine, to crash headlong into the wall?

What if the motors jammed, catapulting him through the nearest window?

What if a short-circuit sent electricity coursing through his body, stopping his heart dead?

It no longer seemed a great idea.

But he stuck with it.

Knowing that every day, with every step, the treadmill propelled him inexorably, inevitably, at a stately one mile per hour, to his doom!

MUNSI

Doom

By Christopher Munroe

The most interesting character in comics, to my mind, would be Dr. Doom.

Specifically, the fact that Doom is his actual last name.

And, therefore, the last name of his parents. Parents who, in spite of the last name “Doom”, never once attempted to conquer the world and bend humanity to their horrible will.

That we know of.

Also Dr. Doom had an actual PHD, which is nice.

Dr. Strange was a surgeon.

Doc Sampson’s a psychiatrist.

Because Marvel, apparently, has the utmost respect for intellect and education.

Not that you could tell that from some of their recent storylines…

CHELSEA

Doom

In high school we had this truly awful intro computer class that was mandatory for all students. It was back in the era when every student didn’t have at least one computer at home, and that right there should tell you about how old I am.

This class started with how to turn on a computer to typing with proper finger positioning and posture to document formatting. Basically things any half intelligent sixteen-year-old could master with minimal effort in about a month. After that it became a race to get your hands on the program disk for Doom.

SPATE

Mostly True Tales from the Navy – 5
Fire Party

If I had joined the Navy seeking adventure, working nights on an aircraft
carrier certainly would have fit the bill. However, I hadn’t. But there I
was anyway, on the flight deck next to that fully loaded F4 with the engine
fire.

Hats off to those reckless sailors who hurtled towards the pending disaster;
the Air Ops Fire Party; all gung-ho and “can do” grit.

We nicknamed them “Doomers.”

Me? I was the peckerhead that dove into the catwalk, furthest I could get
from those sidewinder missiles and that full tank of JP5.

Call me “just wanting to stay alive.”

(Music: “Dad’s Getting’ Fuzzy” by Dutch Coleman and Red Whitehead / Creative
Commons Public Domain Mark 1.0)

ZACKMANN

“Now my doom is sealed. If I am damned anyway maybe I should just lie in the sun and end it all. I don’t want to have to kill to live or unlive, whatever.” lamented the recently turned vampyre.

“As your psychologist, I am not sure if I should in your situation tell you that suicide is wrong or if it’s suicide when you are already dead but as someone who has read Bram Stoker’s Dracula, I will tell you that sitting in the sun may be as effective in killing yourself as slitting your wrist with an electric razor.”

DIO

Pitching Doom

He stopped. One spoke. Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Doom — Angel? I hope you don’t mind, Angel. An-gel? An-gel, we’re not seeing a market for anything this bleak at this time.

Total annihilation is passé, even, said the second.

Do you really need the ending? What if everyone isn’t really dead? The universe survives somehow? Basically, we need someone alive at the end, or our audience walks out thinking, What am I doing here? That’s depressing. Technically they should be dead.

And it kills the word-of-mouth. No momentum.

On the other hand, I see a big opportunity here for the spoof. Our customers think, Everything’s ridiculous!

Win-win!

The Three-Legged Stool

Hegel’s ist kein philosophy of doom! But why not, mein Gott, you want to kill yourself!

When Hegel was just a little tiny boy in Stuttgart, he had a little red three-legged stool.

“Stool” ist kein “stuhl”! Ein melkschemel. Mit drei “stuhlbein”! Ha!

Mein Hut er hat drei ecke!

This little melkschemel discovered Hegel the dialectic, look. Forget Trinity. Mein Gott, Hegel liked sitting more than church.

Also ein leg fell off the stool! And what happened to Hegel, the little tiny boy Hegel, already with the big thoughts?

Naturlich, he hurt his bottom! The light from heaven came from that stool!

Second Thoughts

It sent shockwaves through the realms when Dr. Doom was shown to have plagiarised significant parts of his dissertation.

Many of us had come to accept Doom’s word as fact when it came to endings.
Yes, he had given us a new context. Yes, he made us see fire and ice in entirely new ways. No one had ever suggested such an anguished and protracted end before.

Yet …

No one can deny that the overall result has been a loss of faith in all bad endings. I think Doom himself ended up somewhere on the West Coast with a prescription for pot.

Doomsdays

In the first days after the recognition of the approaching end, there was widespread and highly vocal, often tear-filled, debate. All that became irrelevant. Our own end is beyond us.

This quality of contradiction pervades everything now.

The orgiastic laughter one heard occasionally in those first days was a last scream of pain. The insect hovering erratically in the narrow mote-filled light is clearly the angel of death. The gangs of killers who roam the streets, hoping to snuff out whatever life they find, are angels of mercy.

To dare to go out is to accept the fatefully ambiguous peace of death.

NORVAL JOE

The more Superconductor loomed over him, the more Weiner Dog Man felt his free will slipping away. He knew he would quickly cave in to the supervillain’s doom.
Dergle thought back on his most recent Tae Bo lessons but there was nothing in the exercise program that he could use to extricate himself from this situation.
He dropped to his hands and knees and bared his teeth. “I will channel the powers of the wiener dog.”
Garbage man’s mouth dropped open while Superconductor closed his eyes and laughed.
He didn’t see Long John Silver sprint toward his master and leap.

TURA

Doom
——–
“Doom” is an inauspicious name for a doctor, even if not spelled that way, but young Thomas Duhm had a medical vocation, and at last became “Dr. Duhm”. When introducing himself, he always added, with a flicker of a smile, “but not spelled that way.”

He once went on an exchange visit of six months to Japan. The administration required him to obtain a seal bearing his name in Japanese characters. When he received it from the chop shop, the design seemed unusually complex, so he asked a Japanese friend to read it. It said “Tomasso Duumu Batsunotto Superrudo Zattowae.”
——–

DANNY

Weekly Challenge 444: Doom!

Planet of the Grapes! Suddenly, all the grapes became sentient. “Were DOOMed!” said all of the assholes on FOX news, who were suddenly aware how juicier, and therefore far superior the grapes were. Humanity was not convinced, and ironically defeated the grapes by confronting them with the smell the of corpse of Coleman Francis combined with the legend of Ronald Reagan, then throwing them in a Juiceman Juicer. Then Joan Quigley died, which disturbed all the French grapes, who realized they couldn’t restore the damage done to humanity by being emulsified with Coleman Francis’ corpse. Then, Zig Zuglar lived. Doomed!

PLANET Z

The first-person shooter craze began with Wolfenstein 3D.
It was an adaptation of the original Castle Wolfenstein game.
You fought your way through Nazis, eventually killing MechaHitler.
Then came Doom, where you fought monstrous demons from Hell on Mars.
I’m not sure how the demons got there. I never read the instructions.
From what I could tell, scientists opened up a teleporter gate to Hell on Mars or something.
Which is totally ludicrous.
I mean, the teleporter gate we’re developing here in the lab is completely safe.
No demons are going to come pouring out of this thing, Mein Fuhrer.

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: SKELETON

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lady Blue
• Anima Zabaleta
• Tom
• Zackmann
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• SPate
• Serendipity
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Danny
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of DOOM…

JOHN

Skeletons of Music and Poetry
by John Musico

An iamb is a soft syllable followed by an accented syllable; the backbone of music and poetry.
My youth was plagued by this baffling rhythm that would appear in my head. It could happen anytime: when I was about to knock on a door, when a bird swooped down from above.
My haunting iamb came in sets of 4, a tetrameter.
Da DUN, Da DUN, Da DUN, Da DUN;
As in “come live, with me, and be, my love”, etc.
Emily Dickens knew about this and got rich.
I didn’t know what it was, and I; got a chronic ulcer.

JEFFREY

Planetfall
by Jeffrey Fischer

After nearly two centuries, the starship reached a habitable planet with a thousand colonists in the hold, in stasis, waiting to be revived to start life anew. Life support on the control deck had long since failed, yet the ramjet system continued to scoop hydrogen into its fusion engine, propelling the ship toward its destination. Hull integrity was solid, and the computer banks, including the automatic pilot, hummed along. Only the seven crew members had failed to survive the journey. Their bodies remained as they died, internal organs decaying and the flesh falling from bones. The computer initiated the re-entry procedure, landed the ship, and released the colonists from stasis.

When two of the colonists opened the compartment to the control deck, only to see the remains of the crew, one said to the other, “Boy, Mission Control wasn’t kidding when they said they were sending us into space with only a skeleton crew!”

Yo Ho Ho and an MBA
By Jeffrey Fischer

Pirate interviews were held on Mondays, when prospective pirates had to fight massive hangovers from the previous weekend while convincing the Captain that they were worthy of being in his scurvy crew. Today, the Captain had his First Mate along on the interviews, thinking his second-in-command was likely senior management material and could have his own ship one day.

One by one, sailors would walk confidently into the Captain’s office to begin the interview. Things often started well, but when the interviewee saw the two skeletons slumped in a corner, he would often start stammering, and the interview went downhill from there.

During a lunch break, the First Mate asked his Captain why he displayed the skeletons. The Captain replied, “I learned that one in business school. It’s my best motivational tool.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 74: Doctor’s orders

George looked again at his medical notes: Apparently, he’d been under the care of Doctor Spencer. He left the ward, scanning the nameplates on the corridor doors, until he found Spencer’s office.

Wrenching the door open, he screamed, before realising the skeleton behind the desk was simply a model on a stand.

Once his heartbeat had returned to normal, he turned his attention to the filing cabinets, rifling through them until he located a thin file bearing his name.

Hanging his coat over the skeleton, he took a seat behind the desk and began reading the file’s contents with interest.

#2 – Skeleton keys

The thief showed me his impressive set of skeleton keys – “With these”, he smiled, “I’m unstoppable – there’s no door can stand in my way and there’s not a lock made that can defeat my skills!”

“I wouldn’t be so certain”, I countered, “I bet I can find a door that even your keys can’t unlock”.

The thief laughed, unconvinced.

We set a time and a place for the thief to prove me wrong.

The door I’d chosen was unremarkable, and the thief, totally unimpressed, took out his keys.

“Where’s the keyhole, then?”, he asked.

“What keyhole?”, I replied!

LADY BLUE

Anatomically Correct

“I can’t tell if that’s a rib or the baculum.”

“Dude, if you can’t figure it out, I don’t think the public will either.”

“You sure about that? Mrs. Clemen’s third grade class burned me bad when we got those wings reversed on the butterfly exhibit.”

“Seriously? I don’t think a third grade class is gonna know about a penis bone, do you?”

“Maybe not, but perhaps the ninth grade classes would. Don’t they take anatomy at that age? Or..health, or whatever?”

“IT’S A BADGER SKELETON. They don’t study badgers in ninth grade. No one’s gonna look!”

“…I would.”

ANIMA

September 17th, 1964

Samantha- I have to tell you, I have fallen in love. Your eyes, green as emeralds, your honey flaxen hair. That pert nose…
And how you manage to keep such a clean house and cook such exquisite meals, I will never know.
You are the complete package. Yes, your family is odd, but I am marrying you, not them.

As he prattled on, Samantha’s mind raced…
What would Darrin say if he ever found Mr Bones in the closet, and realized he dispensed advice and was the source of the mac and cheese recipe she passed off as her own?

TOM

Keys

We call them skeleton keys, but at the time people just called them keys. Their design was to ensure ease of alignment. By the 1880s skeleton keys were becoming antiquated reminder of an age pasted, as four and six pin tumblers. The artist Aubrey Beardsley reworked the basic form of a skeleton key into monograms for a book series called the Keynote published by legendary publisher Bodley Head Press. I spent a summer scan the skeleton keys from a copy of the Complete Works of A B, then building vector wireframes. My Skeleton key are actually superior to Beardsley.

The Site

“Oh Hell,” said Rudy staring incredulously into the bucket of the backhoe. “Oh Fuck,” said the Foreman turning the exposed bone over will a pen. “Do we keep digging until we run into a full skeleton?” The Forman closed down construction and got on the phone to the CalTrans archeologist. Dr. Shoemond was the bane and boon of the state road system. He had equally cost and saved the state tens of thousands of dollars. “Yup, that a human femur oh about a 1000 years old.” It turn old to be 50,000 years old, rewrote the history of North America.

New Kid

Welcome to the League of Limited Super Heroes. Your pension for inclusion has been meet our highest standards.

Your train begins today. We welcome you to our band of brothers. Your orientation Hero will be the most honorable Armadillo Man. A booming Texas ascent and vice like hand shake greeted the young lad. Bones snapped. “Looks like our first stop in the infirmary to get those bones taken care of. “Have you considered a proper super hero moniker?” “No,” said kid gathering up the pieces of his hand from the floor. “What’s your power?”

“Reassembling Bones”

“How about Skeleton Boy.”

A Well Defined Relationship Part 71

El Cid pulled out a portable PowerPoint sphere and shared the location of all his booby traps that surrounded the Tamerlane. “Oh this one my favorite, right here in Skeleton Gulch. Germanium quicksand.” “Wicked,” said Sparky. At the end everyone clapped and agreed it was the best evil villain plan they had heard. “I guess we will just have to rise to the challenge and come up with heroic way to avoiding your wonderful traps,” said the Doctor. “My pleasure,” returned the Bandit.

ZACKMANN

Suicidal Tendencies song Waking the Dead plays through the public address speakers of the Vincent Price which starts me wondering if I really want to interview the captain slash necromancer who seems to have too much sense of humor or his three skeleton crew. Maybe find out which of the rumors are true about Red, Cinderella, and Eddie. Are they magic? Do they have to be wound with three skeleton keys? Are they robots? Are they alive? Do I really want take the Vincent Price’s maiden voyage to the moon with this skeleton crew even if the news company pays?

MUNSI

There’s a skeleton on my T-shirt, when I go to the bar.

And another beneath my skin.

The visible is styalized, white and red on black, to give a flash of color as I move through the night, a marker to show I’m there.

The hidden is more utilitarian. It props me up, keeps me standing. It receives little credit, but I use it every day.

Of the two, it’s the first I’m known for, that people would recognize when they see me.

But, in spite of this, the second is the more important.

It allows me to be me…

CHELSEA

We all have them. Those things that we do not share with the world. Those things that we hide because we are ashamed of them. Those skeletons in the closet.

We tell ourselves that no one will want us, no one will love us if they knew about the things hidden away in the back of that closet.

The thing that no one tells you is, those things you’re hiding away might just be the very things that help the right person to love you.

So, let them out, you never know who you might find by just being yourself!

SPATE

Her life was not supposed to be for everyone to see on the television
evening news. She feels naked. Awkwardly standing silently as the charges
are read.

How could they understand what she couldn’t understand herself?

The way every man had used her and threw her away like the shit filled
diapers of their bastard babies that now litter the floor.

The babies! Now counting eight. too many for her thirty-one years. Babies
crying and crying, endlessly crying.

They can condemn her house and tear it down, hell, they can condemn her. But
they can’t make that crying go away.

(Music: “Lullaby” by _ghost / ccmixter.com / licensed under Creative Commons
By Attribution / Noncommercial)
(news clip from WWLP News 22 Springfield MA / borrowed with my understanding
of fair use)

SERENDIPITY

Everyone has a skeleton or two in their closet – I have at least seven or eight.

I also have a body in the bath – slowly melting away in the acid – and another two, chopped and waiting in the freezer.

The cellar is stuffed full of skins, scalps and boxes full of bones, and you can’t move in the loft for the numerous odds and ends of leftover body parts.

The trouble is, I’m going to need a bigger house, very soon.

Not to worry, there’s plenty of empty properties about – strangely, my neighbours all keep disappearing!

DIONYSIUS

Out on Highway 61

Me’n’Bob was, like, hikin’ south on 61, when this, like, car stopped for us, with this big, like, knife-thing tied on top and the shotgun door opens and this skeleton-lookin’ dude says, Get in, with this, like, fuckin’ voice!

I like dove in the back, and when I looked at Bob he was givin’ me this look like, The suicide seat, man?

So cruisin’ along, I go, What kind o’ car is this, man?

The skeleton-guy goes, Pinto.

So I go, Like the beans, man? You never run out of gas, huh?

Then I woke up here! You got any more that painkiller?

NORVAL JOE

Superconductor slipped from his chair, glided across the floor and hovered over Dergle.
“What deludes you to believe you have anything to offer my organization?”
“Um. Well, your organization seems a little undersized compared to your wikipedia page.”
“Yes. We are, admitedly, down to something of a skeleton crew. We have had few applications to our order, as of late.”
“It would help if you’d be a bit friendlier and not try to scare everyone away,” Dergle said, skowling at Garbage Man.
“We’re villians. We’re evil. But, your deduction is not without merit,” Superconductor said, also glaring at Garbage Man.

DANNY

“You have until next Thursday, but unless you really wanted us not to release the skeletons in your closet, both we and the convicted criminal you represented should have received our letters begging for forgiveness last Tuesday.” the magistrate said. I begged and pleaded with the magistrate that literally held my license in her hands to give me a second chance to represent the poor and oppressed. She blatantly said, “No Way. Die with the trash you represent.” That’s when I finally realized the skeleton was really in her closet. That’s the lie we the American people live every day.

TURA

Sir Thomas Beecham described the sound of the harpsichord as “two skeletons copulating on a tin roof”. But he lived long before the zombie plague. What do two skeletons copulating on a tin roof sound like?

Equipment: One tin roof. A shotgun mike. An actual shotgun. And as bait, a ghetto-blaster loaded with the harpsichord works of J.S.Bach.

The bait drew the zombies out, rather too many, but they just stood there listening… like zombies. When the batteries ran out, though…

I can report that an orgy of skeletons on a tin roof sounds nothing like an orchestra of harpsichords.

LIZZIE

Peter hated his nickname and he didn’t understand why they called him Skeleton at school. In the eyes of everyone else, he couldn’t care less about skulls, bones or skeletons. He spent days digging in his grandmother’s backyard where he found bones of many animals, yes, but the kids didn’t know that. They most definitely didn’t know about those bones his grandmother buried in the barn. Peter simply couldn’t understand the other kids… The night was too warm and he couldn’t sleep. He got out of bed and went for a walk in the neighboring cemetery. He enjoyed the quietness.

PLANET Z

They say that there are 206 bones in the typical adult human skeleton.
You have to say “adult” because babies are born with more bones in the skull, but they fuse together over the first few years.
And you have to say “typical” because it’s not nice to say “normal” anymore.
People with extra fingers, extra toes, or damaged limbs feel awkward when you say they’re not normal.
And you especially need to say “skeleton” instead of “body” because some people eat the bones of others.
Especially finger bones from those whiny “damaged limbs” people.
But they’re so damn tasty!

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: SUPERCONDUCTING

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Lady Blue
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Anima Zabaleta
• Tom
• Munsi
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Tura Brezoianu
• Chelsea
• Lizzie
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of SKELETON…

JOHN MUSICO

Inventor assassinated by G.E.
by John Musico

Traditional superconduction is to cool the conducting wire enough so that the electrons traversing its surface do not impede one another. Professor Minsky had a novel approach. Launch a series of protons along the conducting medium. This accelerates the electrons towards the leading proton and the repulsion of the trailing proton further accelerates the leading proton. It involved no cooling at all. He called it; “The proton accelerator”, a single device that could be applied to an entire traditionally wired network. He presented his work at Stockholm. Before he could complete his presentation; a shot rang out from the audience.

LADY BLUE

I held my breath as the magnet hovered gently over the small tray of superconductor and liquid nitrogen.

The minutes ticked to hours; I thought about my family and how long it had been since I had seen them. How many years?

They promised they’d let me go if I did this for them. They said that my research would change the world.

The magnet continued to hover, even when the metal warmed to room temperature.

I did it. Endless power and energy. To the wrong people.

I took the gun, placed it in my mouth, and pulled the trigger.

JEFFREY

The Pick-Up Line
by Jeffrey Fischer

Pam straightened her skirt and wiped a stray hair from her face before stepping into the room. She wondered how many bad pick-up lines she would get tonight, and briefly considered starting a Tumblr account to document the particularly bad ones. The first few were oldies but baddies, including “Is your name Google? Because you’re the answer to everything I’m searching for.” Pam couldn’t even muster a groan for that; she simply walked away.

But the prize-winner for the evening was a badly-shaven man wearing a shirt filled with equations and a punch line no normal human would understand. Holding a plastic cup of beer, he sidled up to her and said, “Hey, babe, I know you want to go to my place. ‘Cause I’m a superconductor, so you’ve got no resistance to me.” She punched him in the face. “Conduct that.”

The God Particle
by Jeffrey Fischer

The second Thursday in September was Professor Frankenberg’s day to use the superconducting supercollider. He was going to find the God particle and win his Nobel Prize for the work. He had even written out his acceptance speech already.

When the time came, however, the professor had a little performance anxiety. He started up the big machine, but accidentally put the device in reverse. His equations were sound. However, what he ended up with was evidence of the Dog particle. Subsequent research showed how annoying this particle was: it stopped at every opportunity to spray smaller particles to mark its territory, and insisted on sniffing the rear ends of other particles.

Frankenberg didn’t mind the cruel remarks his fellow physicists made about his discovery. The Nobel prize and cash award took away the sting.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 73: Trauma Ward

The trauma ward turned out to be relatively compact, containing only a few beds – things seemed to be going George’s way; super! Conducting a quick search, he managed to locate the bed he’d vacated when he’d first woken up and with interest, scanned the notes hung at its foot.

Car accident. Coma: these words sprang out at him; then more words that made little sense: Candidate sixteen – final batch.

What the hell did that mean?

Turning to the bedside locker, he opened it, expecting to find his personal possessions. Oddly, the locker was empty – so where were all his things?

#2 – MRI

It’s an offputting experience – being slid, headfirst into the MRI scanner.

Claustrophobia grips you in the confined space; you lie stock still, terrified to move, lest you ruin the image, Then the thumping, grinding, clunking begins – every fibre of your being is acutely aware that you’re surrounded by massive superconducting magnets, spinning at thousands of revolutions per minute and cooled in a bath of liquid helium.

But the worst thing of all isn’t the knowledge you could be ripped to shreds and frozen solid.

It’s being forced to lie there, listening to Neil Diamond on those blasted headphones!

#3 – First Violin

First Violin isn’t the most glamorous role in the orchestra – sometimes you’re not even noticed – it lacks the drama of the percussion section and the glitz of the brass but there are perks to the job.

For a start, I have a prime seating position – handy for quick exits to the bar after performances, and I have a great view of the hot blonde playing the cello!

And, of course, should the Musical Director be taken ill, or fail to show, then it’s my turn to step into the spotlight… believe me, it really is super, conducting!

#4 – Business Acumen

Supercon Ducting was the family business – not that I could ever work up much enthusiasm for cabling works, but it was a successful company and I wasn’t complaining.

Even so, I couldn’t help dreaming of the bright lights and neon that a more high profile career might bring, and when the chance to sell off the business and pursue my dreams came up, I grabbed it with both hands, and I’ve never looked back since. Hollywood, here I come!

Yes indeed, Supercon Lighting and Signage (Los Angeles), is doing very well indeed, and is much more fun than cabling!

ANIMA

The Remodeling Project

Igor! Come here! Schnell!

Yes, Herr Doktor?

Have you seen this latest electricity research going on in Zurich? Amazing! I think we should remodel the laboratory, replacing this antiquated 18th century copper wire equipment with the latest transformers and fault limiters from ABB. Ja, Think of it! Thousands of amperes of current! With all of that power, the new creature will certainly have better manners than He of whom we do not speak.

Und since the new equipment is so much smaller, we could add that sewing room you have always wanted, Igor. Won’t that be nice?

Oh yes, Doktor :P

TOM

Straight Up Steady State

Gabriel floated up to God. “Sorry to say Lord, but you look horrible,” stated the Archangel “Damnable CERN.” “Don’t get your drift, Boss?” “Since that bloody superconductor started picking off Higgs bosons a bunch of Me has slipped over the Einstein–Rosen Bridge.” “Anything I can do?” “How thoughtful Gabe, could you take that flaming sword of righteousness and whack the first law of thermodynamics into tiny particles. “Won’t that cause a multiverse reset?” “Might, might not We’ll just have to roll the dice.” The Angel whacked, all was blackness.

“This time no entropy. What the fuck was I thinking?”

I Am Jeffery’s Prostate

There has been much mention of Jeffery’s prostate here at the 100 Word Weakly Challenged, but many of you may not know that Jeffery’s prostate is actually a superconductor. Yup it cranks out PH level that are right off the chart. Which has spawn, forgive the pun, a whole new industrial repurposing.. Cutting artistic patterns in rare earth substrates. I got him to write my name out is cursive Further he has been getting proposals, forgive the pun, from all the major Physic Research centers. Years from now Jeffery will be known as: The Father of Bio-Physics, forgive the pun.

Creating in the Pre-Post-Human Era

Living with an artist it not the easiest of relationships. For one practical possessions are forever ending up in art projects. Gail’s battery power Latte frother is in a piece at the Tate. Be friending an artist will reduce your gardening hardware. Dianna’s pitch fork is on loan to the MOMA. Since I am member of the Friend of CERN I have been eyeballing the Hadron Collider superconductor for a LED project. Have you seen that thing, damn colorful as hell and all heavy metal proto stempunk? It will be a giant POV that alternately spells out DOG and GOD.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 71

Banister dropped the superconductor coils into caterpillar mode to compensate for the waves of oncoming g-loads. The last thing they needed was getting enveloped in a blue hole, which was just a tad bit more tolerable that a stay in a black hole. Higgs bosons sparked off the batlofts and the tardic stage. The Duke snaffled down the Higgs and was happily glowing vermilion. The net effect inside the stage was a glowing unbridled disproportal level of optimism. Le Cid burst out gleefully, “Want to hear my evil villain plan for your demise?” Smiling Smith chirruped, “Love to hear it.”

MUNSI

I’ve been good, for the last little while, about the puns.

When the new prompt, each Sunday, is announced, my instinct is to go meta and warp the story toward a gag, but I’m aware that I’m frequently the only one who finds such shenanigans amusing, and I’ve been consciously trying to wean myself away from this behavior.

Mostly successfully.

My stories haven’t always been great, but they’ve at least been on topic.

It’s something I think I’m entitled to be proud of, and that nobody can begrudge my pride in.

Yes, on this point my conduct has been super.

SERENDIPITY

Line a toroidal tunnel with superconducting magnets.

Insert a white-coated, bespectacled and bearded particle physicist at one end, turn on the power, and rapidly accelerate your scientist around the tube.

Once they are approaching something near light speed, slam them into a solid, immoveable object – preferably another scientist.

It’s unlikely you’ll discover anything remotely useful, let alone anything resembling a ‘God particle’ – and it can hardly be described as proper scientific enquiry, but I’m no scientist, just a specialist travel agent.

And it does make for an exciting and entertaining day trip for those fundamentalist church outings

—

ZACKMANN

It seems to be a fad to wear punny costumes this year. I decided not to combine my Old Man Time and Iron Man Costumes to become the Iron Age. I love the Miss Universe costume but doubt I would look good in a star spangled dress. So I am watching Shining Time Station, skipping to the parts with George Carlin or Richard Starkey. I am studying these two acting greats because this Halloween I will put on a train attendant’s uniform with underwear over my pants and a cape over my shoulders then go out as Super Mister Conductor.

TURA

“At the height of the storm, lightning flashes down and strikes the conductor’s electronic baton. At once he is transformed into Karajan: Superconductor! Wielding his supercharged baton, he conducts vast symphony orchestras in acoustic feats that astound the world!”

“Wherever a crisis looms, Karajan: Superconductor is there! Drawing on the sonic energies of the earth and the sky, he averts volcanic eruptions, turns tsunamis, and routs revolutionaries with the force of music that can make even the dead dance!”

The comic artist finished his pitch and waited breathlessly for the publisher’s answer.

“Don’t call us,” he said, “we’ll call you.”

CHELSEA

He had always been fascinated by the precision of his father getting ready for work each night.

Pressed black pants, stiff leather belt, black socks, shiny black shoes, the fancy white shirt and black bow tie.

Always so careful, it was like a dance.

For his tenth birthday his mother took him to see his father at work.

Bouncing with excitement he waited for the lights to come up.

When they did the the first thing he saw was a long black coat like a cape.

From that day on he told everyone that his father was a super conductor.

LIZIE

“Zero resistance. And… ahm… that’s it, ladies and gentlemen.”

The large audience was perplexed. That’s it? They paid for an overpriced two-hour long seminar.

The abrupt uproar of indignation caught the speaker running away as fast as he could.

Two members of the audience hurried behind him. When they reached the back exit, there was no sign of him.

Later that night, a cleaning lady touched a small round disk and she too disappeared mysteriously.

Like so many before, she returned decades later to say “zero resistance”, right before the Great Surrender. Earth became a popular destination, but… not for humans.

DIONYSIUS

The two boys lay still in the darkness. A faint light crept under the door with the woman’s sobs. The younger boy leaned closer as something shattered, but they better not fuckin’ touch.

Tell me again, T, he whispered.

The older boy came back and spoke. I’m in a library with lots of books studyin’ my superconductors. It’s easy to get food. I know everything there is about superconductors.

What about me, T? Am I there, too?

Not knowing how he knew, wishing he didn’t. You’re safe, D, he lied.

I wish I could go with you, T.

He said, I do, too, and grasped the younger boy’s hand.

NORVAL JOE

Garbage Man tapped on the door. Light glinted off the brass plaque.
“Death was your leader years ago. From what I researched, he’s been in prison for five,” Dergle said.
“That’s true,” Garbage Man said and opened the door. “We haven’t gotten around to replacing the sign.”
A man sat in a chair his hands raised before him and lighting arcing from one to the other.
“What do you want?” The man asked, his eyes hidden by dark glasses.
“Superconductor. This man wants to join us.”
“What are his powers?”
Garbage man looked at Dergle and said, “I don’t know.”

PLANET Z

Billy hates it when it’s too hot.
He likes it cold. Really cold.
He keeps the air conditioner on full-blast at home.
There’s no point in keeping things in the fridge. Or freezer.
His place was a walk-in freezer.
One day, it got so cold, that the metal wristband on his watch turned into a superconductor.
The current coming from the battery in the watch now had zero resistance, and the watch began to levitate.
It launched itself across the room, ripping Billy’s arm off.
He quickly bled to death, sprays of red across his frosty white sofa and carpet.

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: ALWAYS

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Lady Blue
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Lizzie
• Chelsea
• Anima Zabaleta
• Dionysis Clowes
• Danny
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of SUPERCONDUCTING…

JOHN

The Brass, Not Impressed
by John Musico

I didn’t get the promotion to head of IT, because of my reply to: “Demonstrate your enthusiasm for the job?” I replied; “ A dog, never walked, angst when other dogs heading towards greater things trotted by the window.
Then one day, the owner clipped a leash on him. The door opened in slow motion, as golden sunshine flooded in. At the curb, he was unclipped, and galloped into the sunset, ears flapping in the wind, thundering to the mountaintop.”
I then galloped down the executive table, smiling widely. They didn’t smile. “We don’t hire people as odd as you.”

Everything You Never Knew About Brass
by John Musico

Brass conducts sound well, so, it is used as the material to make musical instruments as trumpets.
Brass, traditional in Indian tableware, contains copper which makes it antibacterial.
Brass hat; the metal braid on a high military officer’s hat commonly thought to be made of brass.
Brass monkey; shaped like the rack to carry billiard balls; the rack that held the stack of cannon balls on a ship. Incidentally that was called a “monkey” because it was manufactured by the Monkey Brass Company.
Brass doesn’t rust.
Getting down to brass tacks; the basics, as the anchoring tacks of upholstered furniture.

LADY BLUE

The Siren Hunter

I took brass bullets
and the occultist’s advice:
Aim between the eyes
and shoot her twice.

I hunted her down
and dreamed of the day
that I’d kill the one
who that took him away.

To avenge him,
and pay my dues, too,
with determination
I sailed with my crew.

In uncharted waters,
we would find her.
But our spells
could not bind her.

She stood with two others
as I aimed my gun;
but before I could do anything,
her song had been sung.

I couldn’t move.
Bound as I was,
to the siren’s spell
and my lost cause.

JEFFREY

Tacks
by Jeffrey Fischer

I’ve never understood the concept of “getting down to brass tacks.” Getting down how? Like K C and the Sunshine Band, getting down tonight? Going down to the farm? Or just sitting down? And brass tacks. Those seem expensive compared with regular tacks, so you’d only use them for special occasions. They still seem sharp, however, so sitting down on brass tacks seems needlessly painful, and expensive. The whole expression seems like something old people made up to confuse the young. Damn wisenheimers. Wait a minute – what’s a wisenheimer?

The Mall
by Jeffrey Fischer

Harry dreaded shopping at the local mall. He much preferred to buy what he could online, and let the mailman deliver the goods. Every so often, however, he found himself entering the gates of his own private Hell. The teenagers running around as though they owned the place bothered him, but not nearly as much as the rude sales people – the aggressive kiosk owners, the indifferent department store clerks, the snobbish hipsters in stores that wanted to be trendy, and wanted nothing to do with Harry. All of this was capped by an intrusively loud sound system that always seemed to be playing a brass band’s cover version of a Metallica song.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 72: ???

George’s search proved fruitless and, by the time he’d finished, he had a sneaky suspicion that this wasn’t the trauma ward at all… there were just too many prostates for his liking.

He fumbled the crude map he’d drawn from the plan at reception from his pocket and almost immediately realised his error – it would help to have it the right way up.

He left the ward, heading across the corridor to an entrance opposite, where an imposing brass plaque proudly informed him he was entering the ‘Sir Donald Cuthbertson Trauma and Surgical Wing’

He entered, leaving the prostates behind.

#2 – Brassed off

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, your kids are never satisfied.

My son’s fourteenth birthday should have been awesome, but he spent the day sulking after opening my present to him. The trombone wasn’t appreciated, yet I was sure he’d said he wanted to be in a brass band.

I tried again the following year – the oil drum did not go down well. My guess at steel band it seems was also wrong.

His sixteenth left me stumped… was it lead, copper, iron? Finally, I gave up and asked him:

“It’s heavy metal, dad! Just buy me a guitar!”

# 3 – Brass

Granddad used to say, “Where there’s muck, there’s brass”

Aye, I believed him too – set up me own business, I did – more fool me.

I’m telling you, all my life I’ve been up to me neck in muck, and never once found a bit o’ brass!

Aye… plenty of gold, tin, even the odd sapphire, and all I made from it, went straight back int’ business… but it did no good – I never found any brass.

Granddad were wrong. So listen to me: don’t believe what they say – brass mining won’t make you rich, but it will make you bankrupt!

TURA

Brass
——–
An alchemist sought to make gold not from lead, like his rivals, but brass. For, he said, brass is already near to resembling gold, and must therefore be easier to transform.

He alloyed copper, zinc, and esoteric minerals by secret rituals, and at last produced metals exactly duplicating the appearance of gold. But they lacked weight, and he concluded that only lead might provide this.

So he encased discs of lead in his finest brass and pronounced this to be the true gold. But so expensive it was to produce, that he spent all his mundane gold in making it.
——–

TOM

A Final Solution

The brass needed a definitive roll into Paris “we are your liberators” moment. If they could get Chalabi in chains leading the parade all the better. The ISiS lads had to have read the collisions playbook and laughter their asses off at the local revolutionary bar. “Crazy Americans.” General Bennet Larson Startlore had an inspired and simple plan. The Joint Chiefs sent to the White House and council mulled over the human right implications. “Are the Germans absolutely possessive of this drugs shelf life ? “ asked the President. “Alph pheroic D metabolic pathways go inert in six weeks time.
 
Join together with the band

My younger brother Len was hell bent on joining a brass band. Once he locked onto a desire he would follow it down to its ruinous end. What he excelled at in terms of focus was matched with a depth of a lack of talent that was apparent to all but he. Len worked two summers to afford a top of the line Trombone. That brass should have produced grace notes, what Len produced drove animals under the bed. This is how I inherited a trombone. I had no desire to play the thing, but it was just sitting there.

Copper and zinc

Every age has its official metal. Iron Age, Copper Age, Bronze Age, the Age of Steel. We of the Silicon Age driven by nano seconds long for a simpler time, but are incapable of leaving our lust for technology behind. So we have create a fictitious age of brass, one with ray gun, goggles, and airships. I guess those wouldn’t be made out of brass, but pretty much everything else. Even brass corsets, or maybe a brass derby. The center of my brass bolection is a masterfully crafted keyboard. All I need is steam power computer and sterling engine mouse.

 
Well Defined Relationship Part70

“Mom, I’ll be ok. Really”
“Bold as Brass same as your father.”
Mrs. Parsons walked towards the Guild.
“Mom?”
“Tell the Duke and Doctor if a hair is harmed on your lovely head I will have their balls.”

“What!” came the chorus?

She didn’t glance behind, nor change her course.

“I don’t think she’s coming with us.” said Sparky cover in mud.

Banister landed the stage in front of the company

“Shotgun?” he yelled tossing Timmy a brass rail gun.

“I’m your man.”

Tim swung up into the jump seat.

They all climbed aboard.

“Off to the Boardland we go-ho.”

SERENDIPITY

I like a brass bedstead – so much more tactile than wood or wrought iron; it gives a sense of opulence that you just don’t get from other materials.

Brass has all the character of gold, but is so much more practical, not to mention, it’s considerably more affordable.

A proper bed, with down-filled pillows and a good, old-fashioned, heavy satin quilt deserves a proper, polished brass bedstead – anything less is just plain wrong.

But the best thing about a brass bedstead is that it makes the perfect blunt instrument, and it’s so easy to wash the blood off!

MUNSI

Marching Band

By Chris Munroe

It seemed like a good idea at the time, allowing the marching band to choose its own playlist.

Students would be more invested in their band, morale would improve, school spirit would soar, what could possibly go wrong?

We agreed it was genius, and so the plan went forward.

It wasn’t until halftime, first game of the season, that we saw the problem with what we’d unleashed.

When the song they chose was Big Sean and Nikki Minaj…

Brass brass brass brass, brass brass brass brass, brass brass brass brass, brass brass brass brass…

STOP.

Now make that motherfucker Hammer-Time.

LIZZIE

A year of planning and a 10-hour drive didn’t discourage Gene. He was used to hardship. Well, he was used to corporate hardship mostly, being the CEO of one of the biggest oil companies. His stress levels had been building up dramatically. So, the retreat would be an intense spiritual experience. At the end of his stay, Gene was feeling great. The problem was when this guy drove into the back of his car on the local country road. Gene was definitely not ready for this kind of hardship. He ended up at the bottom of a hole, intensely dead.

CHELSEA

I never understood why they’re called brass bands. Not all the instruments are made of brass.

Silver flutes and delicate piccolos with there sweet trills,

Calf skinned drums booming out the march,

Clarinets of wood and reed humming softly with the melody,

Tambourine with its gentle shivering tinkle.

Sweet voices telling stunning stories.

Brass bands are just so much more than just brass.

What would it sound like if a brass band was only brass?

They would just sound funny with only the thundering of the tuba, the triumphant trill of the trumpet, and the tremulous vibrato of the trombone.

ANIMA

Jerry, how much further you think we have to go down? I mean, we’ve dug down like 8 feet and I have pricked all of my fingers dozens of times…

Shaddup and keep digging! What did I tell you when we got to the gold ones?

All that glitters is not gold, and to keep digging…

And when we passed through the silver?

Every cloud has a silver lining, but this wasn’t what we were after…

And the lead?

You said to get the lead out…

Hello, what have we here…? At last, We are down to the brass tacks!

DANNY

The devil walked down my driveway today in the odd shape of a redneck woman, her spindly legs barely able to manage the weight of her enormous gut that protruded from her skeleton frame. She was after the soul of my Maltese mix Freddie, who died earlier this week. I stopped the devil by refusing to open the front door. “You have some Brass balls coming here, you cannot have the soul of my dog, he is already in Heaven,” I said. The devil, unable to see her own crotch, walked away not knowing if she had brass balls at all.

DIONYSIUS

Scavenger

It could have been called a mystery but wasn’t.

Nobody paid attention to him except to avoid him — a big, physical teenager — until he was sent up for breaking and entering. When he got out he brought a knife to a fist fight. That’s assault with a deadly weapon.

Even if they’d looked, they wouldn’t have found that single casing melted into the brass by his partner, or noticed the buzzards circling over the rocky ravine out in the middle of the reservation. It was, after all, a country where buzzards circled endlessly over innumerable deaths.

Wherever he’s gone, said the sheriff, he’s there and I’m here. Good riddance.

Brass in Pocket

He was nearly 65 when they met, depressed that he’d never have enough to retire. His wife had lost all interest in sex, unnecessarily, but he was over arguing.

Sitting at the next Starbucks table over, she said, What kind of music do you like?

He thought she must be talking — on the phone maybe? Me?

I want to start a brass band. She was barely 20 if that.

Do you play tuba?

We’re only gonna play brass songs. Like Brass in Pocket.

Lay Lady Lay.

Brass Monkey.

I don’t know that one.

She sang it all the way through for him.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle followed Garbage Man through the door at the end of the alley. Long John had overcome his fear of the ambulatory heap, and dashed through the entryway, sniffing along walls and in corners that Dergle could only imagine in the pitch darkness.
Once the outer door was closed, Garbage Man flipped on an interior light revealing a large windowless room equally as filthy as the alley they’d left. Long John gave up his chase of some small creature and trotted back to the men.
Incongruously, across the room a meticulously polished brass placard on a singular door read, “Death”.

PLANET Z

Mr. Dan, our chemistry teacher, is teaching us about alloys.
Alloys are metals that are mixed together. Or metal and nonmetals.
It gives them special properties, like strength or malleability.
For instance, brass is a mix of copper and zinc.
While bronze is copper and tin, or arsenic.
Steel is a iron and carbon.
I raise my hand and ask if a screwdriver is an alloy of vodka and orange juice.
“Those aren’t metals,” says Mr. Dan.
That’s my way of reminding him to give me an A, or I tell the school board about his drinking on the job.

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: ALWAYS

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Lady Blue
• Tom
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• Danny
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of BRASS…

JOHN

Then but Once, but Now is Always
by John Musico

“Yogi, why is it that we try to recapture moments of our lives, but, they have passed, and we never can?” “Young disciple, if only we could just stay in the present moment- that: we can capture, always.”
“But yogi, why is this lamentable tendency so very common nonetheless?”
The old yogi replied; “Safety is hard wired into our brains, the real you. However, that design betrays us. In constantly seeking danger yet to come we are cheated of the now.”
The young student muttered, “I’ll think back often on today’s talk fondly.”
The yogi hit him with his cane.

JEFFREY

Public Transit
by Jeffrey Fischer

Casey was a creature of habit. He always caught the same train in the morning, always standing in the same spot to get into the same car and grab the same seat when possible. He knew to the minute how long the trip to the office would take, and was proud of the fact.

That Tuesday, he entered the train and made a beeline for his usual seat, ignoring the warning signs: the unshaven man with several tattered shopping bags at his feet, wearing a T-shirt that disparaged the Republican candidate in the previous election cycle. The man reeked like a garbage truck that had sat out in the sun. When the man started babbling about the international Zionist conspiracy and electronic bugging devices in his oatmeal, Casey made a lifestyle change: standing up for the train ride was healthier than sitting. He didn’t know about the health benefits of doing so one car over, but he was willing to take that chance.

Traffic Flows
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ben fiddled with the radio as he sat in stop-and-go traffic, trying to find a station that was not playing a commercial. Interstate 95 always seemed crowded when Ben made the drive toward Richmond. Day, night, early, late, weekday, weekend – nothing seemed to matter. Where were these people going?

In subsequent weeks, as Ben made the drive again and again, he noticed many of the same cars. Curious, while filling up at a Fredericksburg gas station, he asked the driver of a maroon Mustang that Ben saw repeatedly: why are you on the road so often? “It’s like this,” the guy said. “I’m doing public service to stay out of jail.”

Ben was puzzled. “How is driving on a crowded road doing public service?”

The driver shrugged. “Politicians don’t want to build new roads, they want people on public transportation. If the highway is always full of cars, they figure people will eventually give up on driving.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 72: Doctor George

Always have a plan – advice that George, till now, had singularly failed following. Now would be a good time to put that right, and the plan that seemed most helpful happened to be one of the hospital, displayed at the reception desk.

He ruled out geriatric, paediatric, surgical and maternity, before settling on trauma – it was close to the canteen too, where he’d grabbed his carrots.

Stealthily he made his way to the ward and began perusing the clipboards on each bed…

“Jeffrey, how’s your prostate?”, he queried, reading from the first, before continuing his way carefully along the beds.

#2 – OCD

Some might consider it OCD, but it’s just plain common sense – if I always check every window is closed, check the gas, the bathroom and kitchen taps, and unplug electrical sockets every time I leave the house, that’s just being sensible.

And you can’t be too careful with personal hygiene – handwashing before, during and after every meal is always advisable.

And yes, I do it always – every time – it only takes a single omission to invite trouble.

So why do I always count the paving stones on my way to work?

Well, doesn’t everyone do that?

#3 – The A Word

‘Always’ is an awfully long time – longer even than ’till death do us part’, or the time it takes to be served in my local bar, and it leaves no room for human error… Do you always look both ways before crossing the road? What, every time?

‘Always’ fits into the same categories as ‘forever’ and ‘eternity’, it’s as constant as ‘perfection’ and ‘unerring’ – and that’s why I have a problem with you using it.

Because, when I ask “Do you love me”, and you answer, “Always”, there’s no way you can be doing anything, other than lying.

TURA

“Eli and I are getting married!” the young woman announced. “We’ll always be together. ”

“‘Always’ is a long time, Liesl,” her great-grandfather gently chided. “With modern science you might reach my age, and have another century still. You can forget a lot in that time.”

“Eli says we should never–”

“He’s right,” he said. He took from his writing desk an ornamental wooden box.

“I want you to have this,” he said. “It’s glued shut, so it won’t be opened on a whim. But one day, long after I’m gone, you must open it.”

And one day, she did.

LIZZIE

Never had Ronald felt so insulted. It was true that he dragged his feet in the morning and that he tried to cut short the work day by starting to get ready to leave the office half an hour before the end of the shift.

However, he had never missed a day’s work, never lost a paper or misfiled a document.

“You’re always stealing our doughnuts,” was far more than he could handle. He even brought the coffee, well, once or twice a month. The least the crew could do was to allow him to take a doughnut, or three.

SERENDIPITY

Always have a backup plan – you never know when you might need one.

If you should see me in the street, always have an alternative route that you can take.

Never meet with me unarmed, always carry a weapon, just in case.

And, should we ever meet alone, always have a trusted friend you can phone.

Wherever we are, always know your escape routes.

Prepare in advance, leave nothing to chance, always expect the unexpected and – no matter what – be certain that when our paths cross, you always have a backup plan.

And pray that I don’t have one too!

ZACKMAN

“No dear, I don’t want any Holiday vacation that involves a connecting flight at Heathrow. Almost every year London is invaded by space aliens usually around Christmas. I watched it on the BBC so it must be true.” stated Zack

“You know that Doctor Who is just a Television show and all those space invasions in London where just made up. Right?” she said

“Doctor Who, not real? I don’t question your religion. Faked invasions is what the governments want you to believe.” replied Zack.

“Would you be serious.”

“Honestly, it’s hard for me to get vacation time during holidays.”

LADY BLUE

Keeping Promises

The tumor on my back has grown so large that it hurts to even breath, much less move a muscle. It feeds off of my body – dissolving tissues and draining my blood until I’ve nothing left. Its weight, as it grows and grows, crushes my bones and leaves me a crippled husk.

This is the cost of my promise. Years ago, when the tumor was broken and helpless, I gave way to pity, which became adoration.

“I promise that I will love and cherish you forever. I will never leave you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

I’m a person who keeps my promises.

~~~~~~~~~
Frampant Grass and Agitated Cetwens

Always cut the frampant grass whenever the sun goes legerate. Otherwise, it will agitate the cetwens into a pernainian frumourse, and you’ll never get them back from the kesserid again – at least, not without colluring them into a postguilous cage, baited with honnus that’s been spiced with phrux and honcloure. You could also used smoshed blupids minced in whettled pistensy, but I wouldn’t suggest it. Blupids are quite cizzyvous when they’re not in season, and the whole process of smoshing them without the proper protection can be quite dangerous.

Wait.

Why don’t we just get rid of the grass altogether?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Citizen Tenants to Peaceful Societies

Always
Do nothing,
Because change
Is scary. It’s a foray into the unknown that can threaten and harm.

Always
Be silent,
Because when no one knows what you
Think,
It cannot be challenged.

Always
Be normal,
Because being
Original
Makes you vulnerable to criticism.

Always
Listen to others,
Because your own
Thoughts
Have no value or worth.

Always
Be ignorant,
Because knowing
Means you must do something, and that violates rule #1.

Always
Be controlled.
Because acting out on your own
Makes you a threat.

Always
Resist change
Because suffering
Is familiar.
It is what we are used to doing.
~~~~~~~~~~

What do you mean by “Always?”

Always means never not ever and heaven forbid if you don’t.

Always means not not and don’t even consider the exceptions.

Always means under no conditions should one ever consider it possible. Or impossible. Or plausible. Or inconceivable. Or not.

Always means do not, must not, cannot consider the alternatives.

Always means don’t hold your breath, forget it, and don’t wish, want or hope for it.

Always means at no time, not in any way, not in the least, absofreaking no, by no means, and certainly, nevermore.

Quoth the raven, when she said “Always,”

I said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

TOM

The Call

Dad pulled the duffle bag higher on his shoulder. “Jimmy you be a good boy and listen to your mother.” Jimmy t threw his arms around the sergeant’s legs. Dad reached down and took his hand and handed him his cell. “This is a direct line to wherever I go. Know that wherever that is I will always be with you.” Jimmy kept the cell phone always charged and never took it out of the house. Dad never came home. The Army had no idea where he was. That is when Jimmy made the call. A distance voice answered: As-salamu alaykum.

Making a second impression with your first impression

My life has straddle two diverse sectors of the economy: Manufacturing and service. Prospering in either takes a keen understanding of what your prime asset must be. What has served me well is projecting the impression of being: a problem solver. To successfully enforce this impression one most take it right down to the granular level. Take this simple exchange: Thank you for putting out the fire with your left elbow! Pause, you could reply: Your Welcome and have the moment drift into unconscious memory. BAD! The next thing out your mouth must be memorable, strong, and unexpected

Reply: Always.

That’s My Girl

Always, Richard Dreyfuss, Holly Hunter, John Goodman, Audrey Hepburn, playing a ghost, soon to be a ghost. A classic remake of A Guy Named Joe a Dreyfuss-Spielberg vanity piece dismissed by the critics as “dated”. A little guy film like Death Takes a Holiday, Heaven Can Wait, or The Canterville Ghost, a redemption story. A film prior to the Corporate-Military narratives. A remake of Always wouldn’t be called Always, it would be called Desert Storm set in the sands of Gulf War I staring Seth Rogen, James Franco. Meryl Streep would play Hap and pray that she didn’t get Hepburned.

Well Defined Relationship Part 69

Sparky and El Cid cried out.

“Why have you forsaken us, have we not always served you OH Duke.”

“Sorry Mrs Parsons, I got to take this. Will you be ok?”

“Go.”

“Look at me, you two.”

Sparky buried his head in a puddle.

Le Cid rose in angst.

“Why have you sided with my tormentors?”

“Free me Oh Duke so I may …”

“Loot, Kill and spout lame dialogue.”

“Yes in your honor.”

“You’re leading us into an ambush?”

“Yes Duke.”

“Don’t suppose I can change your mind?”

“OH God you move in mysterious ways.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

DIO

A thin, sickly-looking man leaned through the door into the darkness. There was only a couple of shadows at a back table. A grainy video was projecting on a sheet against one wall. The man sat at a table where he couldn’t see it.

In a bit, a woman came with a glass and sat down.

Lookin’ for a party?

Ain’t got that much. Smoke?

They smoked his cigarettes, chatting awhile.

You ever fall in love with ‘em? he asked.

Always, she said.

It was quiet except for a pretended orgasm.

How much you got? she asked.

NORVAL JOE

Garbage man shook off candy wrappers and plastic bottles. He shambled to Dergle and asked, “If you’re supposed to be here, what’s the password?”
“The password,” Dergle mumbled and his heart sank. He’d researched this organization. He knew their rituals and practices. He’d learned their password and memorized it. But, just like always, when the pressure was on his mind went blank.
Garbage man raised himself up, towering above Dergle. “If you can’t tell me the password, you will die.”
“Wait,” Dergle gasped. “I remember. It’s ‘Jeffrey, how’s your prostate?'”
Garbage man exhaled a fetid breath and said, “Follow me.”

MUNSI

On Motivation

By Christopher Munroe

Kids, I have something to tell you.

You won’t like it.

I don’t care.

You’ve been told, mostly by parents, that if you apply yourself you can accomplish anything. I’m here to say, you can’t.

Parents have to lie, sometimes, to keep you from harsh truths about the world.

You’ll accomplish many things, true, but Anything? No.

There are things that, however hard you try, you will fail at, and it’d be a good idea to prepare yourself for that.

Because it’s true of everyone, and the sooner you learn to be okay with it the better off you’ll be…

CHELSEA

Always

You cut into me … Always

You tear me down … Always

You take my last breath … Always

You want more that I have to give … Always

You underestimate me … Always

You are walking on thin ice … Always

You are not ready for what’s coming … Always

You are going to suffer … Always

I am stronger than you … Always

I am a force to be reckoned with … Always

I am biding my time … Always

I am waiting for the right moment to strike … Always

I have been biding my time … Always

I will haunt your dreams … Always

You will fear me …. Always

Always!

DANNY

Weekly Challenge 440 (just like a classic early 1970’s Dodge Challenger) Always

“Why am I ALWAYS pissed off about nothing more than some fiction within my own mind!” I screamed, suddenly realizing I was screaming at a blank wall, painfully aware of how vividly I was hallucinating that David Gregory was screaming on the top of his lungs before a Senate Investigative Committee, “But both sides do it!” The Senate was not moved, and insisted that David Gregory be fired from NBC’s Sunday morning show, Meet The Press. The executives at NBC gleefully obliged, insisting Gregory was not conservative enough to compete with Fox News, so they hired Chuck Todd instead. Brilliant.

PLANET Z

Intelligent switches and meters in the electrical grid allows utility companies to route electricity supply to handle peak demand.

Thanks to high-capacity, low-latency neural networks bridging quadrillions of nanobots, the intelligence grid will route brainpower and computing power to handle high demand.

“Braincloud Computing” ran into initial resistance, with protests against the intellectual 1% draining the masses for extra thinking power. But when scientists proved that people had plenty of extra brain capacity to spare, a fair rate structure was put in place.

Besides, do you think the slack-jawed masses watching television will miss their stray thoughts all that much?

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: GUARD

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Chelsea
• Tura Brezoianu
• Tom
• Dionysis Clowes
• Spate
• Lady Blue
• Norval Joe
• Lizzie
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of ALWAYS…

JOHN

Prostate Means: “Guard”
By John Musico

Prostate is Greek meaning, “guard”. It stands like a sentinel in front of the bladder.
Its job is to make semen to afford fluid for the sperm from the testicles to swim like little tadpoles.
If a man has his prostate removed; when he orgasms: he doesn’t ejaculate.
The fluid contains sugar to fuel the sperm for their journey upriver.
The pH is alkaline, giving it a chlorine odor, to neutralize the acidic pH of vaginal fluids.
A prostate that feels like your nose tip is normal, a chin when enlarged, a forehead when cancerous, or a cheek when inflamed.

JEFFREY

The Museum
by Jeffrey Fischer

The day was scorching, and humid to boot. As a result, the museum was getting substantially more walk-in business than usual, people taking advantage of the free admission and climate-controlled atmosphere to escape the brutal heat outdoors. The priceless artwork required precise temperature and humidity controls, allowing masses of humanity to free-ride on the needs of the collection. The guard understood all this, but was still on edge as the extra visitors made his job harder, particularly when parents of small children failed to corral their offspring. “Please don’t touch the paintings,” the man repeated, maneuvering the child away from the Renoir while giving the evil eye to the parents. He looked forward to the return of cooler weather.

Pork
by Jeffrey Fischer

“No more pork!” was their rallying call. The party would no longer buy votes from individual Congressmen by allowing pet projects to be attached to bills. These guys were serious. Well, except for the new highway for the influential Representative from Alabama, or the upgrade to the rural airport that served the senior Senator from Idaho. Pretty soon, the new crowd was baffled to discover that the deficit had increased once again, and that taxes would have to go still higher. Putting politicians in charge of taxpayer money was like voting for the fox to guard the henhouse.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 71: Return to the hospital

Although it was some time since he’d first left the hospital, and much had happened since, the memories of those first terrifying hours warned him to be on guard.

All seemed quiet, but he knew the silence hid many horrors within those walls.

Gingerly, he approached the entrance, senses alert and heart pumping.

He pushed the door slowly open.

Silence.

He paused, weighing up his options…

Medical records – that was it! If anything could cast a light on his circumstances, his hospital notes held the key!

The only problem was, he had no idea where in the building he’d stayed.

#2 – Guardian of the Key

“I am the Guardian of the Sacred Key – none pass this way without my leave”

I could tell this wasn’t going to be easy. Maybe I could make a run for it, but I knew he was fleet of foot; perhaps I could negotiate, but experience told me it wouldn’t work. In the end, I decided on the straightforward approach.

“Just give me the key, I’ve no time for this”

Deflated, he passed the key and the great book.

“Sign here”, he said.

“Bloody security guard!” I thought, “Give a man a uniform and it goes straight to his head!”

SERENDIPITY

“Guard your words men; the walls have ears”, I whispered.

Silently, we made our way through the deserted corridors. Silently, that is, save for Williams, sniggering at the rear.

I held up my hand and called a halt.

“What exactly is your problem, private?”, I asked.

“The walls have ears!”, he laughed, “That’s funny!”

I held a finger to my lips: “I’ll say it once more – guard your words!”

He continued laughing until, exasperated, I grabbed his collar.

“Yes, private… the walls have ears, and they also have mouths!”, I snarled, as I fed him, screaming, to the hungry building.

MUNSI

Guard

By Christopher Munroe

It started with a typo on a memo.

A type-mo, if you will.

Kids breaking into the grounds at night, drinking underage, smashing bottles in the lot around the factory, and everyone agreed something had to be done.

We didn’t have the budget to hire security, much though we wanted to, but the solution we came up with, we agreed, would satisfy our modest needs for a little extra deterrent against nighttime intruders.

With hindsight, however, we should have proofread the final memo a little better.

We bought a guard Doge.

And now…

Such Secure

Very Safety

Many Protection

Wow.

ZACKMANN

“What do you really do?” asked Drew.

“I observe and report. I report if anything is broken or anyone is breaking laws or policies. If there is a real problem I call maintenance, the police, or the fire department.” Zack replies.

“So you really shouldn’t be called a guard but a monitor since monitor seems to be the main focus of your job.” said Drew.

“Which is totally okay. We prefer to be called security officer over guard because of the past times when guards did beat people up and were involved in union busting. Big changes in recent decades.”

CHELSEA

Guard

Such a heart breaking thing to watch. But In the end there just wasn’t enough time to accomplish both. Faster than a speeding bullet and still just not fast enough.

What was it all for? Why have such incredible power if you couldn’t use it to guard the ones you loved?

And I was with him up to that point and Then he flew fast enough to turn back time and I was lost. My eight year old brain just knew that it wouldn’t work. You can’t rewind time that way! But I guess that’s comic book logic for you.

TURA

Guard
——–
After an assassin reached the Emperor himself, forcing him to a lightsabre duel, the Emperor decreed new security measures. Armed spaceships would surround the imperial planet, and robot armies would ceaselessly patrol its land, seas, and skies. Gun emplacements would ring the palace, every door of which would open only to the hand of the Emperor and his staff. Communications equipment was heavily firewalled against cyberattacks.

So strong was the security, that he found himself unable to admit or communicate with his ministers and generals, nor himself leave. And so the Empire continues without him.

Long live the Invisible Emperor!

TOM

Check Mate

Kent tipped the King over.

“Another?’

“No, thanks that is sufficient whipping for one day.”

“Going to miss you Old Man.”

Dorsey laughed at the prison guard, a good decade his senior, but at 55 after 30 years on death row he figured he had racked up a good 20 more.

“What you going to do?” ask Dorsey rolling the rook over in his hand.

“Probably end up in the park playing chess.”

“And you?”

Dorsey laughed again.

“Got a hearing this month, might be joining you.”

Kent returned a weak smile.

“Never Know.”

“Changed my mind. Black or white?”

Asset

The lights showed the faintest of activity. Her condition hovered between guarded and critical. Agent Parker had taken up residency in the Big Old Chair, a Tempurpedic prototype from Pfizer, on the off chance Laura Evans regained lucidity. Yes, guarded was the watch word for the whole operation, as in, great risk, limited hope of success, for a veneer of useful intelligence. The syncopated cycling of the respirator has started to make subtle regular changes. Parker took Evans hand whispered in her ear. Three nearly perceivable tap was all the agent needed. Time to merge back into the dark shadows.

Well Defined Relationship Part 68

As the WhiteStar passed through the jump-gate mother dropped decorously to the ground.

“I am a reasonable person, all I wanted was steady employment, as the Bookkeeper of a Doctor, mundanity at its finest, no adventures, no peril, no trapping off in the Boarder Land, are you getting this Duke?”

“I hear you Mrs. Parsons you wanted a normal life to raise your son. So did I, well a normal death. Your son’s pray changed all that. One second I’m playing Pinochle with Pascal in shell, the next moment I’m a full blown Deity Guardian and Guard of the Universe

DIONYSIUS

Tarney drove as if to guard against vanishing.

On the one hand, this drew honking, curses, and gestures from the drivers around him as he crept along at subminimal speeds, waited long after every intersection had cleared, and signaled his intentions long before he intended to do anything. As a passenger in Tarney’s car, one usually bore up under this glacial movement designed to preserve Tarney (and oneself) against any potential vanishing.

On the other hand, there was no hope of hurrying away from vanishing when Tarney failed to anticipate the truck, the driver shifting up into the intersection, bearing down on me in the passenger seat.

The Guards of Sardanapalus

We were the guards of Sardanapalus.

Causing his retinue and concubines, along with his wealth in gold and jewels, to be gathered and entered into the great pyre, Sardanapalus, the last king of Assyria, proclaimed these words: Physical pleasure is the only good. Our enemies even now threaten us for celebrating this belief. We go to end all pain!

(We had often stood watch over his orgies.)

These loyal guards must remain behind. Honor their loyalty. Gladly would they follow us into the flames wherein we go to celebrate satiate desire. Their courage is their willingness to stay behind with you.

Thus survived the guards of Sardanapalus.

Duty

He had become somewhat famous.

After a tortuous journey, we reached the remote area and found him seated under a rock ledge overlooking a barren valley.

He watched us climbing to him.

Not that impressive up close. He had only a few teeth and his skin was a sun-darkened mass of wrinkles. We offered beer.

I cannot, he said.

We blinked into the sun. You know, your war — your country — ended years ago, I said.

My duty is to guard this pass.

Do you get cable out here? asked Burke. Or many girls?

But honestly it wasn’t that much fun, and we regretted wasting the time.

SPATE

Bedtime Story

Darkness now rules, my child, but do not fear. Stop crying, pull the covers
up tight and listen closely to your Papa, I’m here.

You must guard your eyes so you no longer imagine you see these creatures
that haunt you.

And guard your ears lest you hear again whispering voices plotting evil
against you when it’s just the wind.

Guard your thoughts. Don’t let your mind wander into these disturbing
fantasies that keep you awake.

But most important, guard your toes because that is what they will bite off
first if you get out of this bed again tonight.

(Music: “Come Out and Play” by DesperateMeasurez Licensed under Creative
Commons By Attribution 3.0)

LADY BLUE

The Key to the Pearly Gates of Heaven

I cut out my heart and placed it in a stone tower surrounded by high walls. It was safely hidden inside a locked box; camouflaged by lucid dreams and harsh realities. Fiercely guarded by fear and shielded from the world, it could never be hurt. Time and apathy hardened my tower walls.

When I died, I prostrated my soul in front of Saint Peter’s gates and said, “Here! Here, I have the key!”

I proudly took out my box, coveted for over a lifetime, and withdrew my heart. It disintegrated in my hand; rotted from within through years of neglect.

NORVAL JOE

Though there wasn’t a guard by the door at the end of the alley Dergle hesitated before entering the dark passage. Long John whined and circled around Dergle’s legs to peer down the alley from a safer place.
“What’s the matter, boy? Don’t you think this is a good idea?”
Long John growled low in his throat. Regardless, Dergle eased into the shadows, his focus on the distant door.
A pile a garbage raised up, taking human shape.
“Garbage Man,” Dergle whispered.
“What brings you to our lair?” the punjent heap challenged.
“I’m one of you now. I belong here.”

LIZZIE

The wolf was a hungry beast. It prowled around, lurking in the shadows, its red eyes glimmering in the darkness. It fed on my anger.

“Keep it,” the man whispered.

I tried to stifle its eagerness, its thirst.

“Kill it, kill it,” the man whispered.

I couldn’t understand. Keep it or kill it? Keeping it would feed the hunger. Killing it would perpetuate the hatred. I too would’ve given in. I saw no way out.

The man grinned, his teeth as sharp as the wolf’s and he said “There’s your wolf. Guard it with your soul. It’ll keep you alive.”

PLANET Z

Joe played Guard at Clemson.
All-American, drafted second round by Miami.
The starter got hurt in pre-season, so Joe stepped up and shone.
Signed a multi-year contract for millions, spent it all on cars, houses, bitches, and drugs.
Then he got hurt, tried to make a comeback.
Signed with Chicago, played through the pain.
The team doctor gave him pills for that.
But they made him confused. “Joe The Joke” they called him when he blocked his own quarterback.
And got released
Then came the paternity suits, the foreclosures, and the bankruptcy.
Doorman. Bodyguard. Bouncer.
Whatever you need, he’ll do.

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: VICE

We’ve got stories by:

• Danny
• Chelsea
• Munsi
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Zackmann
• Serendipity
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Jeffrey
• John
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of GUARD…

DANNY

Incoherent ramblings rumble through my mind as Miami Vice, not the NBC show about busting sex rings, but the actual factory that makes industrial strength vices for automotive workshops around the United States closes its doors because it was outsourced to China. The hookers are totally fooled. They line up for blocks outside the doors because they assume the factory must be filled with johns lining up for last desperate blow jobs after being told they are fired. After all, this is the factory district. Not amused, NBC decides to reinstate Miami Vice after it was canceled indefinitely for retooling.

CHELSEA

Vice

I won’t deny it, there are things, many things that Indulge in. Nothing too hard core. No heavy drugs or gambling or anonymous sex. I’ve thankfully managed to keep away from anything that will kill me, quickly at least.

I do smoke and drink on occasion. I eat too much junk food, I spend too much time surfing the net and playing on line for it to be strictly normal.

But, at the end do the day, of all the things in indulge in, you my darling, are the one thing I just can’t get enough of. My sweetest Vice.

MUNSI

Vices

By Christopher Munroe

We all have vices.

The drink too many at the pub, the cigarette habit we can’t seem to overcome, an annual trip to Vegas that always winds up over its initial gambling budget…

…some, out of our mind on hallucinogens, might kill a stranger with our bare hands because it’s the only way we can achieve orgasm.

I, out of my mind on hallucinogens, kill strangers with my bare hands because it’s the only way I can achieve orgasm.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is, we all have vices.

So how can we judge the vices of others?

DIONYSIUS

Virtues and Vices

Yeah. Maybe you heard that sayin’, Virtues turns into vices and vices turns into virtues.

The others nodded.

Buck was a goddamn good dog.

Once I bought this mamacow, wild as a deer, right off the reservation I guess and damned if she didn’t come after me soon as I let her out. Buck jumped right in there ‘til she
chased him ‘round the truck ‘n’ high-tailed it.

He had one vice, chasin’ cars. He just didn’t know what to do with it when he finally caught one.

Hell if I know what that has to do with virtue, he laughed. Pass me ‘nother beer.

The Way to a Man’s Heart

The way to a man’s heart, my mother said, is through his vices. For years I assumed this meant sex, so I catered to Dick’s desires.

And we got married. But after eight years of marriage, I realized that his real vices were lying on the lounger, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, a bag, box, or plate of fat on his fat belly, watching sports. The sex had been a test.

My mother’s wisdom still worked, though. I dutifully brought him beer, cigarettes, and fat. That man’s vices were the best way to his heart.

Resentment

You’d think an “omnipotent Being” wouldn’t have a problem with motivation,you know? You can do whatever you want!

I mean, in the beginning He had some big ideas , and you could look forward to fucking them up. And because He had those big plans, I was able to promote some major sins in those days. The Fall of Man — that was a day’s work. That was more than a vice! Nowadays you get vices at best.

Mass murders? Abuse of women and children? Slaughters of innocents? They don’t last.

Is it my fault? I can’t do nothin’ about procrastination.

Embarrassing

Well, said my mother, this is a story that embarrasses me.

My wife Susan and I were relaxing with her and my stepdad on their back porch. He’d just said how the hospital bill for his first daughter was only $52.

When Jim was born, the BlueCrossBlueShield paid everything — except we paid $57 to get him circumcised. When I took him back, Dr. Smith took a look and said, Well, we circumcised the wrong baby.

My stepdad asked her, Should you be talking about that in front of Susan?

I think she knows, said my mother. I can’t imagine why I never asked for my $57 back.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle stood in the dark surveying the kennels in his back yard. The girls in one to the right and the boys on the left. Twenty three dogs in all.
Some would consider it a vice to have so many dogs.
Not Dergle. To him a wiener dog was a symbol of strength, of power, of tenacity and endurance. The more wiener dogs one could own, the greater a persons capacity and influence.
He had struggled to use his powers for good only to be discounted and dismissed.
The world would rue the day Dergle turned his efforts to evil.

TOM

Well Defined Relationship Part 67

“Ouch,” said mother. One of the tiny spaceships was glowing.

“Engineering on my mark all power to the shields,” said the captain. “Helm, Vice Maneuver Zed 9 on ten.” “Data reverse the polarity on the trakyon stream.”

“Captain, the life force has released the hull. We are in freefall.”

Before the Duke could reach out the Enterprise was skimming above the mud. When the DeathStar fired up the death ray mother dropped it also. It landed in the mud popped three times and imploded.

“Best you give me that one back,” said the Duke holding up a tiny jump gate.

Grandpa’s Vice

Benny was not allowed to touch anything in his Grandfather’s shop, lots of really sharp stuff. It was clear from observing his uncles that no one questioned the old man’s word. The joke in the family was he brought you into the world, he could just as easily take you out. Benny thought it odd no one laughed at the joke. Knowing the need to impress a young mind with an adequate practical demonstration Grandpa took a piece of copper tubing put it in the iron vice and spun the handle crushing it.

“Here,” said grandpa, “you can touch this.”

Nearly a Saint

I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t gamble. I don’t covet wives, goods, or goats. I don’t do coffee, coke, or coco puffs. I really don’t have much in the way of vices, but if computer were on the list of Seven Deadly Sins, I would surely be hell-bound. It could be argued given my profession all things electronic are merely tools of the trade. Nope. I’ve seen the statues of the 7, the leering smile, gapping mouths, and wild eyes, that’s me.

“Bless me father for I have sinned it has been 24 hours since my last purchase

LIZZIE

The devil crossed the border, looked around and decided that that small village was the perfect place for a vacation. When he set out to find a hotel, he came across a smartly dressed man. He felt so tempted; a foot, just a foot, and the idiot would trip. He sneered. Then he came across a kid on his new bike; a foot, just a foot… He sneered. Finally, he came across an elderly lady. This was the one. A foot, just a foot, and… The devil was shocked and mortified. His pride was completely shattered. The elderly lady sneered.

ZACKMANN

“Bye dearest. I am off to Vice City Hardware because they have a sale new vices and just got a shipment in from Miami.” he said.

“You almost never do anything handy. Why do you need a vice?” she asks.

“Because dearest, all my writer friends tell me that everyone needs a vice. The Vice City Hardware flyer says they started naming them like Ikea does. The one I am buying is called Roy. I have been tracking the shipments of the advertised items. You know how important it is to follow good Add Vice and free flashlight with purchase.

SERENDIPITY

If I have any fault, it’s that I don’t have a vice.

I’ve plenty of other tools of the trade – chisels, hammers, clamps and saws, but I’ve never really had need of a vice and, to be honest, it’s never been a hindrance to my craft.

In fact, if I may boast – I’m the best in the trade.

You see, a good workman knows how to get the best from his tools, and knows exactly which tools are suited to the job.

Oh, you thought I was a carpenter?

No! – I’m master torturer for the Spanish Inquisition!

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 70: Fate

George held the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, his body tense as he realised exactly where he was.

Breathing slowly, he let the horror, anger and finally, disappointment, wash over him as he stared at the building through the cracked windscreen.

Things had come full circle – fate, it seemed, still had games to play.

He faced a choice: did he play along, or get the hell out of there?

Grimly, he opened the door and climbed down from the vehicle; “Let’s see what fate has in store”, he muttered, walking purposefully towards the hospital where his journey had started.

#2 – Miami Vice

Pockett and Scrubbs were considered Miami’s finest, although you’d never have guessed it from seeing them. Armani suits, shades, designer stubble and fast cars were hardly the usual vice squad image, but then Pockett and Scrubbs were hardly your usual vice cops.

It was all a big game: the guns, the car chases, the violence and the action – the suits and sports cars just added a certain glamour and sex appeal to the job.

They lived for the job – an irony not lost on their colleagues… for Pockett and Scrubbs had their own consuming vice:

The job itself!

JEFFREY

Little Eva
by Jeffrey Fischer

In my high school, like many around the country, the principal and vice-principal played a form of good cop/bad cop. The principal was a cheerful, rotund man who always gave the impression that he liked his job and liked being around students. Clearly, he was an excellent actor. His reward upon retirement was to have the football stadium named after him. His vice-principal was a short, plump woman (sarcastically nicknamed “Little Eva” because of her size or “Eva Braun” because we thought she behaved like her namesake’s boyfriend) who seemed to delight in meting out punishment to students. One didn’t mind being called to the principal’s office; it was the vice-principal’s one wanted to avoid. Hers was a thankless job.

Hair Extensions
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ferguson, Missouri doesn’t seem like a wealthy place, but a number of troublemakers have been using the protests over Michael Brown’s death as cover for a multi-day looting spree. Ferguson doesn’t have enough native looters, so they’ve been importing looters from St. Louis and from as far away as Texas. Looters tend not to be very specific about what they take: sneakers and hair extensions seem to be popular items. I used to think these people were horrible opportunists, taking advantage of a difficult situation in order to steal from business owners and employers of locals. But then I started thinking. Barry Goldwater famously said, “Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice.” Although one might not think of looters as devotees of Goldwater, perhaps they’re just liberating merchandise from the shelves.

Joe
by Jeffrey Fischer

Candidate Obama mulled over the short list of candidates for his running mate. He wanted someone smart, someone who could help him with tough policy decisions. It would be good if the person had skills complementary to Obama’s. Someone from a large, in-play state would be helpful, as would having a solid, respected politician who would be a viable candidate when Obama’s terms were over. All these were important. However, one criterion stood above the rest: as the vice-president was a heartbeat away from being the Leader of the Free World, Obama needed someone who was enough of a bozo that not even the lunatic fringe of the country would think about evicting him from office.

And that’s how Joe Biden became Vice-President.

TURA

Vice
——–
The Viceroy of Khandhrastan pondered the petition that his steward found nailed to the palace gates. It said only, “O pinnacle of the age!” He was pleased to hear of his popularity.

The next week, his steward found another. It said, “Rejoice on the day of celebration!” He considered this must refer to the anniversary of his appointment, a week thence. He decided to arrange feasting and entertainments for the people.

On that day, his steward found a third, which said “Come, and be satisfied!”

The Viceroy ordered the palace gates opened.

The people stormed in and began the revolution.
——–
General Wei investigated reports concerning government officials and ladies of the night. After consulting eminent scholars of virtue, he instituted the Register of Vices, specifying for every rank of official the vices to be Forbidden, Disapproved, Approved, or Compulsory.

Among Compulsory vices was the fathering of children upon courtesans, the number of such required offspring being proportionate to the rank of the official. Approved vices included managing a house of ill repute, Disapproved was the zealous prosecution of Approved vices, and absolutely Forbidden was to divulge the contents of that Register, whose only copy was held by the Vice Minister.
——–

The Entrapper
by John Musico

Vice cop Burt was known among the perps as “The Entrapper”.
Like many cops, Burt’s marriage was going sour.
Meanwhile, criminals, many a time falsely busted by Burt, plotted their revenge. Nicki, an expert at insurance fraud, drafted a hefty life insurance policy for Burt’s wife. Malinda made calls, as a concerned neighbor, for escalating domestic unrest. Lefty took a set of prints from the site of Lefty’s most recent arrest by Burt in Lefty’s home, Burt’s prints. Finally, Blade the assassin knocked off Burt’s wife. He placed Burt’s prints on the murder weapon, a large knife from Burt’s kitchen…

PLANET Z

My two least favorite letters on the Scrabble board are V and C. Goddamned tiles!

Sure, they’re worth more than the usual points, but you can’t make a two-letter word out of them. I like two-letter words. Quick and dirty points.

You see, the two-letter words let you build across or down from a vowel, especially valuable when it’s a double or triple.

When I get two or three or four of those damned V or C tiles, and I can’t come up with a word like Vice or Vav, I’ll dump them.

And get them right back.

Goddamned tiles!

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: FORK

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Spate
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• Tura Brezoianu
• Zackmann
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Danny
• Lizzie
• Julie
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of VICE…

JOHN

Unseen Forks in the Road.
by John Musico

At the helm, I gazed ahead, fixed on my planned destination. To verify that I was indeed holding a straight steady course; I turned to inspect the whitewash behind the boat. Incredibly, my path had been instead serpentine; weaving to and fro! An epiphany drenched me like a bucket of cold water. We look ahead at the next small step, feeling that we are the captains of our destiny. However, if we look back, way back; all evidence is to the contrary. So, when things don’t go as you “planned”; remember- they never actually did; so don’t beat yourself up.

JEFFREY

Two Paths Diverged
by Jeffrey Fischer

Neil Young once opined that if you don’t know where you’re going, it doesn’t matter which road you travel. One day, while hiking in the woods, I decided to put that view to the test: when I came upon a fork in the path, I flipped a coin to decide which to take. Heads, I went left; tails, right.

One time I got heads six times in a row and found myself back at the same intersection, two hours after I left it. Usually, though, I got an assortment of lefts and rights, leading me to interesting vistas and less well-trodden paths.

Of course, a good thing can still go to unfortunate extremes. Enough random choices and one forgets where one started – or where one is currently located, relative to one’s car. All of which is to say: if you find this note, please send help. I’m lost!

Medium Rare
by Jeffrey Fischer

Freddy Boulier was an intrepid explorer. His latest interest was the Zampani tribe, a fiercely private group in the Amazonian jungle. Freddy heard they practiced cannibalism, though he was skeptical. Accompanied by a native translator, Freddy made the trek into the jungle to visit the tribe.

In a jungle clearing, the Zampini danced around a simmering pot of water. “Welcome!” said the chief, through the aid of the translator. “We heard a brave explorer had come to visit us.” Four burly tribesmen picked him up and placed him in the pot of water. Freddy started to babble, trying to avoid becoming that night’s entrée. When he finally stopped, the chief asked the translator if Freddy had finished speaking. The translator, eagerly awaiting fresh meat for dinner, replied, “Stick a fork in him. He’s done.”

Sadly, the joke didn’t translate well, and the tribe ate twice as well that evening.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 69: Indirection

The fact remained that George still had no idea where exactly this particular god-forsaken place was. None of the street signs he saw were particularly helpful and he found himself driving aimlessly around in the hope of discovering a road that would lead him out.

Arriving at a fork in the road, he debated whether to go right or left – finally opting for left, since up until now he’d seldom been right!

Something about his surroundings seemed familiar… he felt the stirrings of memory: he knew this place, he was sure of it.

Turning a corner, he stopped dead…

#2 – Cutlery Creation

Grandpa Jack emerged from his workshop, beaming with pride.

“I did it!”, he exclaimed, “The first sentient robot, and created entirely from washing machine parts and cutlery!”

Sure enough, his unique creation was a wonder to behold, although I was more than a little concerned that grandpa had chosen to use steak knives for the robots fingers.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”, I asked, nodding towards the twitching knives.

“Of course I’m safe!”, replied the robot.

“Wow, it speaks!”, I blurted.

“Indeed it does”, said grandpa, “but I wouldn’t believe a word it says… I gave it a fork tongue!”

#3 – Buffet

I hate buffets.

I hate the food: pastry-laden morsels of heartburn, served at a bacteria-loving room temperature, prodded and poked by the sweaty fingers of those in the queue in front.

And the queue! The endless, mindless, shuffling, irritation of it all!

Then, with laden, soggy paper plate, you juggle with wine, canapes and conversation, all the while praying desperately not to drop the whole lot.

Rotten food, warm wine, useless plates and dreadful conversation, could it possibly get any worse?

Oh yes… because no-one has ever mastered the breakable, bendable, utterly uncommendable horrors of the puny, pathetic, plastic fork!

TOM

Well Defined Relationship Part 66

“Listen here, Duke God.”
“Call me Marion.”
“Yes … Marion I’m not going to allow my son …”
“Could you please hold these?”
“What?”
“They’re spaceships.”
“s-p-a-c-e-s-h-i-p-s”
“Don’t drop them there are people inside.”

Mother continued, “ to be put in that level of danger.”

“Correct Mrs. Parsons which is why I’m here. You have arrived at the fork in the road. One of my Divinical Duties to my five million followers”

Both Banister and Smith let out a low whistle.

“is to insure the Profit safely fulfills his density and to that end I will be joining your company.”

A Post-Modern Culinary Report III

After evaluating both the American and Japanese Sporks I can safely say what’s wrong with their design structure. In both cases the spork is not fork enough. In the case of the American Spork the curved tines impede piercing and the gaps allow fluid leakage. In the case of the Nippon Spork the tines rest under the spoon area allowing parallel protrusion, sadly without careful maneuvering during the slurping action one is likely to jab a lip or the gum line. So the most elegant alteration would be retractable tines, a reverse vampire tap forking Spork. Humbly submitted Lendus Lacksmore.

SERENDIPITY

A fork of lightning flickered on the horizon – a storm was coming, and it was going to be a big one.

She shivered, pulling the bedclothes over her head, waiting for the fury to come.

Her big brother used to mock her fear of thunderstorms – “Don’t be such a sissy”, he’d laugh – until the night the storm took him, screaming, to his death.

Father, mother, all her family – all were taken, one by one; storm by storm.

And now, the storm was coming for her too.

Distant thunder rumbled, as she burrowed deeper under the sheets.

SPATE

Eye Candy

When he was but a wee baby, Mama decided it was time he learned to feed
himself, so she set a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of him and placed
a fork in his hand.

With innocent delight he proceeded to thrust that fork directly into Mama’s
eye.

One Eyed Mama (as she’s now known) swore an oath that this child would never
be given a fork again.

And so it is, to this day, he eats without a fork. or a knife for that
matter…just a spoon.

After all, spoons make tidy work of extracting eyeballs.

(Music: “Funeral March For A Marionette” by Ergo Phizmiz
[http://www.ergophizmiz.net]
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England)

MUNSI

The Chef

By Christopher Munroe

His massive eyebrows furrow as he throws himself, body and soul, into his work.

Chef’s hat set low upon his brow, moustache twitching in concentration as he slaves in his kitchen, so devoted to what he does that it has become all that he is.

Did he once have a name? Bjorn? Benny? It’s lost to him now, in the haze of food and creation.

But it’s all worthwhile, in the end. He’s the best there is at what he does. And such delicacies he creates…

But what utensil to use to sup upon his grand creations?

Fork fork fork!

CHELSEA

Fork

She sat there on her rock looking at the forks before her.

To her left was her home, a place she was not keen to see again, ever.

To her right was the dark forest, full of adventure, mystery and danger. She had explored it many times in her youth.

Ahead of her the path was new. This fork had not been there when last she passed this way.

The path was completely obscured by a strange mist, enticing her with only the first few steps.

‘Here we go!’ She said, jumping off the rock and disappearing into the mist.

TURA

The preacher said, “There are no forks in the road, only different paths to the same destination.”

One replied, “Tell us of this destination.”

He answered, “The end of all paths, the cessation of suffering, the reward obtained by the holy men of all ages.”

Another sneered, “I know this riddle, the answer is death!”

The priest’s acolytes drew machine-guns and mowed down the congregation.

“They were a miserly lot,” said the priest, as they rifled the bodies for jewellery and fat wallets. “Mining them out is a shorter branch of this fork than waiting on a trickle of donations.”

ZACKMANN

I fight with rice. The food not the football player. I remember attempting to eat rice in a Japanese restaurant with chopsticks. Being alone that day, I was more nervous and self conscious than I usually am. I did poorly. A waitress walked up to me, smiled then commanded “You will use a fork.” A friend assured me that like him if I practiced I could get good enough to get every last grain of rice on the plate. Now after living with a Pinoy I can’t eat rice with a fork anymore or with chopsticks only with a spoon.

DIO

A Childhood Memory

I remember the first time I ever used a fork.

As soon as ma and gaga left, the babysitter called her boyfriend. I grumbled a bit from the playpen.

Before long he showed up with beer and bud. They were decidedly interested in the contents of each other’s pants but not mine. Nothing could deter them from the inevitable, even as I watched through my screams.

Their lust sated, they fell on the contents of our refrigerator. At last they thought of me.

The little dude is hungry! said the boyfriend. What does he eat?

Nothing with a fork, I thought, as I jabbed it through his eye.

NORVAL JOE

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
Boy, was I surprised.
I figured, somebody went this way, or there wouldn’t be a trail. A couple miles along, I ran into this guy who wasn’t at all happy to see me. I thought maybe he was a hiker, or a hippie, or democrat. When I got close, I saw he had a gun and a pitbull. He said I’d be smarter to go the other way, I might live longer.
He said he was a farmer. I thought farmers were frendlier than that.

DANNY

EeSaw is an elderly blind man who lives in a small remote cabin on the edge of a majestic lake in the Northwestern Territories of Canada. Every morning Eesaw grabs his walking stick and heads to the fork in the road in front of his cabin, choosing a different direction to walk each day. Regardless which direction EeSaw takes, he always winds up back at the same fork in the road by his cabin, because the road simply winds around the lake. Life gives you the illusion of choice, when in reality, we all end up in the same place.

LIZZIE

The man stormed out of the restaurant, screaming. He ran around aimlessly before collapsing onto a pile of snow. Upon closer inspection, the police officer realized that the man had a fork stuck in his eye. Some said it was an accident, others a bet. When the officer got closer, the man lifted his face from the snow and smiled. “What a ride!” The officer was baffled. Suddenly, the man stood up and took off running. The ambulance eventually caught up with him in a field, digging for money, he said. “Oh yeah, it was a bet,” concluded the officer.

JULIE

Stick a fork in me.

When I am done cooking—

I will stop

Paying attention.

Wait. no–

That’s my Irish bravado,

kicking in.

I care, immensely.

But it did not hurt.

Wait, yes—it did.

The bleeding stopped,

A few months ago—

It is now a slow clot

A blot,

On my permanent record.

I am going to be just fine,

Thank you.

Tossing shreds of you

Out the window

Shiny metal forks back at you

I am strong, strong
Kicking these last two years

To the curb
you are gone, gone gone.

PLANET Z

Amir came to our school as an exchange student, and he was pretty good with the language, but some idioms threw him off.

The phrase “Stick a fork in it, it’s done” threw him off for a while. He was always sticking forks into things. Thank goodness that he never stabbed a cheerleader or an electrical outlet.

Some guys on the football team tried to convince him that he should use the phrase “That’s the bomb!” But even Amir knew that was pretty fucking stupid to say.

Besides, the authorities determined that the locker room fire was a gas leak.

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: ACE

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Munsi
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Lizzie
• Tura Brezoianu
• Chelsea
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of FORK…

JOHN MUSICO

The Peter Principal
by John Musico

Hal’s real name was Simon, but he preferred the nickname Hal; like the computer in 2001, because above all things- he valued his intellect.
No doubt, he was a member of the Mensa Society where they held the “A.C.E. Awards”, American Coalition of the Enlightened: smartest of the smart. He made it into the elite subgroup. To his dismay, indeed to his humiliation; he soon found that he was no longer special. He resigned from ACE and when he did; he decided further, to resign from Mensa altogether.
Hal now hangs out with regular guys and again feels super special.

JEFFREY

Twenty-One
by Jeffrey Fischer

The last hand of the poker tournament had arrived. The remaining players were all in. Grant kept bluffing, but he had an ace-high hand of nothing. Jackson smugly displayed his ace-seven two pair. Taylor placed his cards down one at a time: five of diamonds, four of clubs, three of clubs, two of spades, ace of diamonds – a straight. Finally, Adams placed his cards down with a smug grin: six of spades, eight of spades, nine of spades, queen of spades, and ace of spades.

As Adams started to collect the pot, it suddenly dawned on the other three that this particular hand had five aces in it.

Guns blazed simultaneously. When the smoke cleared, the dealer, who had ducked under the table as the last hand was revealed, gently retrieved the extra ace from Taylor’s dead hand and pocketed a handful of large-denomination chips. He made his escape before the police arrived.

Ace
by Jeffrey Fischer

Perhaps the most interesting of the Doctor’s companions in the classic series was Ace, the teenage troublemaker who traveled with the Seventh Doctor. Here’s a girl who, without warning, found herself on an alien world and just dealt with it. She calls the Doctor “Professor” just to annoy him. She carries explosives with her whenever possible, and she’ll even apologize if she overestimates the amount of time on one of her fuses. To top it off, she beats the crap out of a Dalek with a baseball bat. Just don’t call her Dorothy…

As the Professor says, “Somewhere there’s danger, somewhere there’s injustice, and somewhere else the tea’s getting cold. Come on, Ace. We’ve got work to do.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 68: Thinking time

Until now, George had felt like a loser, with the dealer holding all the aces. Now, out on the open road he’d at last regained some semblance of control.

If nothing else, he now had time to think, and at least he had the radio for company, although he was still baffled by the apparent ignorance of the world in general to his plight.

But, if the problems were so localised that the outside world knew nothing of them, all he had to do was get the hell out of this god-forsaken place.

If only he knew the way!

#2 – Maverick

Lieutenant ‘Ace’ McKenzie was known as a maverick. He’d built his reputation on taking things to the edge, and beyond – he was good at what he did, but his superiors questioned his methods.

For the third time in as many weeks, Commander Morton summoned ‘Ace’ to his office for a dressing-down.

“Lieutenant, you simply can’t carry on this way! When you’re out there, you’re part of a team – your company depend on you. You can’t just go off and blow your own trumpet!”

“Why not?”, protested McKenzie.

“Because, we just don’t do things that way in the Salvation Army!”

TOM

Poker Night

On a normal night this would have been a no-brainer. Five Card Draw three Aces staring up at me. I’m the last in the rotation. First guy throws down four cards. He’s holding the last Ace. Next two discard three possible pairs chasing trips. Last man toss one, a man known to chase inside straights. The pot gets amazingly large. First player lays out three Queens, looking pretty good, until the three Kings come out. Broke straight just shacks his head. I lay down my Aces, go for the pot, until the man with the single Ace shows his Flush.

O What A Lucky Man He Was

He was the first Drone Ace. The Air Force had to create a new metal to honor his 20 kills. Hard to find honor in tow toy planes dog fighting, but if anything the military mind embraces the Napoleonic Law to engagement. “A man with fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.” The ceremony would have been grant, in the end they just mailed it to his widow. Seems the enemy had found a way of targeting the drones neural net and overloaded the signal. Fried the Ace’s brain. That man got a metal to. Another Ace.

Hardware

I love hardware stores. Not because of the function. I’m in love with the forms. If you look carefully every conceivable hunk of brass, aluminum, or steel has its own distinctive artistic flair. Plumbing flanges are downright Victorian. Extruded bars very Bauhaus. Star punched screw head very post-modern. Currently I’m working with brass Acorn Nuts very steampunk. It’s not just parts, table saws, planners, drill press kinetic forms in motion worth of the praise of the Italian Futurist and Marcel Duchamp. Yup I love Ace Hardware or as I like to think of it my own personal Art Supply Store

Well Defined Relationship Part 65

“Hey Ace time to head home with the woman,” touted El Cid. Banister stifled a laugh, Sparky did not. Smith clocked the bandit with the back of his hand. El Cid spit out blood and finished his insult. “And the babies.”

“NO” boomed a disembodied voice, at one like Timmy’s, but older and raw with cancer. A 12 foot green column formed behind the lad. Three silver shape took form as arms and legs delineated.

“We are going.” Flatly stated the Duke

El Cid fell forward in submission along with Sparky.

“We are agreed”

“No we not,” reply the mother.

MUNSI

On Companions…

By Christopher Munroe

Fans argue their favorite Doctor, passionate about their preference, but there’s less discussion with regard to a Whovian’s favorite companion, and I don’t understand why.

The companion is, after all, as vital to Dr. Who as the Doctor himself, as much part of the flavor of the show.

For me, it’ll always be Ace. My first, and to this day my preference. Smart, sharp-witted, independent, everything a companion ought to be, and forever possessing a place in my heart.

Also; She beat a Dalek nearly to death with a baseball bat for calling her short. Let’s see Clara do that…

SERENDIPITY

“What’s the ace worth?”, he asked.

I frowned. “Every time we play, you ask! When are you going to learn the rules?”

“I’m sorry”, he replied, “I’m not really the gambling type, and I forget”.

Frustrated, I retorted, “Well, it’s about time you got a grip! Do you realise how high the stakes are?”

“Of course – that’s why I get nervous. Now tell me, please, what is the ace?”

“Ace high”, I replied.

“Typical!”, responded God, throwing down his cards. “Bust again!”

“Hard luck”, I laughed, gathering up the cards along with the few thousand unfortunate souls in the pot.

ZACK

An old fashion biplane lands carrying a man with a suitcase and a donkey with its hooves on the yoke. When the plane stops the man gets out and shakes Cliff’s hand saying

“Hello, I’m Professor Johnson and this is my star student, Francis, who doesn’t talk much.”

Cliff goes to where the professor sat looking for controls.

“Can you believe a flying donkey?”

“I’ll believe Francis is a flying ace when pigs fly” answers Cliff

“No, he’s flying ass. If I’d known your paper wished to see a flying pig, I would have chosen Hampton to fly me here.”

LIZZIE

People say happiness is upgraded when shared, although Ron was skeptical about that. Last time he tried to meet a girl, he spent months recriminating himself for his goofiness, which triggered a discouraging sense of social inaptitude. However, he was a determined man. One day, he summoned all his courage to talk to the cutest girl he had ever seen. He sat next to her and played his card. She talked and talked. He listened. She talked some more and he listened. Thirty years later, they are still together. It seems people were right about that happiness thing after all.

TURA

Ace
——–
The gambler and the stranger faced each other.

“Call,” said the gambler.

The stranger shifted a cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. “Check.”

The gambler showed four aces.

“Reckon you got me beat,” said the stranger. “I only got a flush.” He laid down his cards. “Ace high. Where’d you get that ace of spades, when I got it right here?”

The gambler laughed nervously. “Four aces still beats a flush.”

A gunshot barked under the table, and he fell to the floor.

“That it does,” said the stranger, “but a Colt 45 beats them all.”

CHELSEA

Ace

He marches alone through the maze, up one isle and down the other lost in his thoughts. He was, of course, thinking about the little girl in the blue dress.

She had been so small and so sweet? How could she have angered the queen so? How could she be the source of all this mess?

Really, if anyone were to ask him his opinion, which he did note they had not, he would have agreed. Painting the roses red was the most logical way to appease the queen. But what did he know; he was just a lowly Ace.

DIO

My Memory of Heidegger

Everyone wants to debate Heidegger’s Nazism.

He also obsessed from morning to night about Go Fish. Anyone can see how his philosophy derives from this simple card game.

In October 1957 I visited Heidegger in his Schwarzwald “Hut,” which meant I had to play cards with him. After several hours I asked the Great Ontologist for aces. Go Fish, he said. On his turn, when I had one card left, he asked for aces! He declared victory before he saw the card!

Furious, I reminded him I’d just asked for aces. He said he’d drawn one. More nonsense!

So you see, Heidegger was a big cheater, too!

Tortubian Go Fish

One may study the rules of Tortubian Go Fish for decades without comprehension.

An Ace (this is the title they use for Tortubian Game Masters, in honor of this central card in their version of the game) must account in each outcome for the moves and tactics employed in the game insofar as they were motivated by the absence of aces in the Tortubian 87-card deck. Until such an account is given, the game is nonexistent.

This opacity, along with the rule that an Ace may not bear any outward sign of status, and Tortubian love of their game, have established Go Fish as the center of Tortubian existence.

Clowns

On Clownola — the planet, in distinction from Clownland, the planetary government (a concept praised by Kant but dismissed by Hegel) — the improbable is expected.

They have a simple proverb, to the effect that it is highly improbable that in the infinite universe there should be an inhabited planet called Earth, where the odds of drawing an ace to a royal flush in poker (these terms meaningless sounds to them) are almost a certainty by comparison. Yet people on Earth speak of Clowns.

Of course they have no more belief that Earth exists than we do in the existence of Clownola or Clowns themselves.

NORVAL JOE

Baron Villim Von Vindowvinder adjusted his monacle and took a deck of cards from the pocket inside of his suit coat.
Across the small table Sir Andrew Cranksworth, Earl of Upwidget twisted one side of his snow white mustache and said, “We’re old men, Baron. Deal the cards before one or both of us expires.”
With arthritic fingers the baron slowly shuffled and dealt the cards.
In the end when the baron called the earl, they both showed their hands and laughed for hours.
Who would have thought that the old pair of aces each had a pair of aces.

PLANET Z

Dad always said to keep an ace up my sleeve for when the going gets tough.

The problem is, I’m always wearing the wrong shirt. The ace is up the sleeve of a shirt that’s at the dry cleaner’s. Or in my closet.

Once, I gave away the shirt with an ace up the sleeve to Goodwill. By the time I realized it, they’d already washed and given the shirt to some homeless dude.

I wandered the city, looking for that shirt, but the I never found that bum.

I came close, but he had an ace up his sleeve.

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: LOAD

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Zackmann
• Lizzie
• Tom
• Tura Brezoianu
• Dionysis Clowes
• Chelsea
• Caledonia
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of ACE…

JOHN

Load Off My Back
by John Musico

Every nightmare I’ve had always had a large rabbit in the background, just standing there. Why?!
The rabbit made me dread sleeping. I had to end this. One Easter, it did when I had a simple insight. One night per year a rabbit leaves several baskets of candy.
He must be quite large, and, skilled at break-ins. Why was there, say, no money left for him? Regardless, people feed animals, not vice versa. This subconscious struggle manifested in my nightmares- a terrifying, mysterious, manlike, large rabbit.
Ever since I realized who the rabbit was; he never returned to my nightmares.

JEFFREY

The Wisdom of Confucius
by Jeffrey Fischer

I took Metro to the Chinatown stop. As I swiped my fare card at the gate, I saw that my card balance was low, so I detoured to the fare machines. Instead of English, the instructions were in Chinese characters. Oh well, I thought, how difficult could this be? I placed my card on the reader, kept the amount on the default $20, swiped a credit card, and touched the card to the reader again. Done.

When I later tried to go through the gate, instead of a fare balance, the machine read, “You will lead a long, prosperous life.” The second time it said, “You will inherit money.” The third time the display showed, “You have a winning personality.”

Frustrated, I showed the card to the station manager. He chuckled. “Sir, you loaded your card at the Chinese Fortunes machine. You now have another $19.70 of fortunes left on the card, but you still ain’t getting on the train that way.”

The Sum of All Knowledge
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Loading…loading…please wait” scrolled across the monitor. Sol drummed his fingers across his desk as he waited. He checked his Twitter feed and looked to see if any new pictures had been uploaded to his favorite soft-core site. When he returned his attention to the first window, it still displayed the “Loading” message.

Sol was more than a little anxious. He wanted to get rich, so he had written a program that would funnel all human knowledge throughout history into his computer. Surely with all that information sitting in storage, figuring out how to make a crap load of money would be easy.

After an interminable wait, the program spit out a message indicating it was finished. Sol puzzled at the instruction to build a robot, but he followed those instructions to the letter.

The robot killed Sol, then set out to kill as many humans as possible. Filled with the sum of all human knowledge, the computer recognized that humanity was a lost cause.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 66: Hollywood

Dizzy and dazed, George concluded movie scenarios were a load of rubbish. Relying on Hollywood for survival tips inevitably lead to a whole load of trouble – like his current predicament.

Considering what his favourite movie hero might do, he now resolved to do the complete opposite.

He backed up the battered vehicle, and searched for another exit – as opposed to heroically jumping out, attempting to open the gates with sheer brute strength, whilst manfully fending off marauding lions.

Eventually, he discovered a service entrance which barely resisted a nudge from his vehicle – less spectacular, but definitely more effective, by far!

#2 – 19 Seconds

I learned that trick where you assemble a gun blindfolded, in no time at all. With practice, I finally broke the twenty second mark. It was just a personal challenge though… I never thought it might come in handy one day.

Until the night armed burglars broke into my house.

Knowing I only had seconds to act, I rolled out of bed and – in complete darkness – reached for the disassembled weapon, my fingers going through the well-rehearsed routine.

The burglars burst in: and I realised the one thing I’d never practiced – I’d never thought to load the damn thing!

SERENDIPITY

He always managed to belittle me… his favourite was stumbling home after a day at the pub, to a clean home, hot dinner and exhausted wife, collapsed on the sofa: “That’s right”, he’d say, “Relax… have a seat and take the load off your feet!”; and then the abuse would start.

Eventually, I’d had more than enough, which is how, returning to consciousness, he found himself balanced precariously on the dockside, ‘wearing’ a pair of ‘concrete boots’.

“That’s right”, I said, “Relax, and take the load off your feet… oh, you can’t?”, I giggled, before pushing him off the edge.

MUNSI

At Work

By Christopher Munroe

I think I might have meant to say “Lock and Load”.

I mean, I must have, it’s the only thing that makes any sense to me. I was asked if I was pumped up to start work for the day, and I wanted something to express the mix of energy and grim determination I planned to bring to my place of employ.

“Lock and Load” is an actual English phrase, at very least. It would have made sense if that had been what I’d said…

Instead, I said “Pop and Lock”.

Long story short, everybody at my workplace breakdances now.

ZACKMANN

I feared when my daughter left the farm for college in the big city she would bring home a city guy with no practical bone in his body. Yesterday as I was mucking out the barn my daughter up and brings home a boyfriend. He asked me what was in the trailer. So I told him that was the certified best organic fertilizer a person can get. He tells me he is sorry but it looks like a load of shit to him. I gave him a big hug because there seems to be some horse sense in this one.

LIZZIE

The truck slid sideways on the ice-covered highway, the load at the back hindering the anguished attempts to stabilize the heavy vehicle.

When the police arrived, it was difficult to tell the truck from the pile of contorted multicolored metal. The rescue services tried their best to see where the victims were.

They all sat by the side of the road, the victims, amazed that no one could see them.

“Is that the light we are supposed to see, Dad?” asked thirteen year old Tommy, pointing at the fire engine. His Dad nodded. Tommy always wanted to be a firefighter.

TURA

Load
——–
There was a shipowner whose cargo ships never capsized at sea. His rivals wanted to know his secret. He told them, “Do you see that line on the side? I never let my ships be loaded so heavily the line goes under water.”

“How is the paint made?” they demanded. “What is the ritual for painting the line?”

He replied, “You must determine the safe level and paint the line there,” and he showed them how to do this.

“It is a trick against us,” they said, “to stop us carrying so much cargo.”

Thus has truth always been welcomed.

TOM

Boy You’re Going to Carry That Load

In my you’t my first real job, a union job, was as an assistant Shipping and Receiving Clerk. One serious kickass union that was. Basically I loaded and unloaded trucks while the SRC sat on at his desk marking off 10/15, 11/15, 11/15. At the time I thought I was doing all the heavy lifting here. Until one day the Shipping and Receiving Clerk got sacked for missing 37 out of 75. A loss of over $600. That how I became the new Shipping and Receiving. Well until I missed 24 of 40. Next job loading brick on to flatcars.

What’s A Cassette Player?

Way back in the Neolithic days of home computing, before disk drives and just after punch cards, to execute a program one had to load it into the compute with a Radio Shack Cassette player. Not the easiest of tasks, pretty much in the same league as retarding the spark on your Model T. As I recall this skill set had the same life expectancy as the Pony Express, put to rest by the arrival of the 8in Floppy. Now mere mortals could run their Tandy, Commodore, Eagle, and Atari. Odd the term still lives on in same computing circles.

A Well Defined Relationship Part 64

After a few words between Rev Morehouse and Senator Smith, the good senator went in search of Mrs. Parsons. Their brief exchange ended with a less then amiable secretary bookkeeper affect, in fact the widow was quit fired up by the time she found the Doc, already in deep planning with both Banister and Dino Mod.

“HES NOT GOING” railed Mother Parsons

“Agreed” said the Doc.

“W e l l t h e n . . . good.”

When Timmy caught wind of this it was his turn to burn.

“Do you know where we’re going, Son?”

“nope”

“The MotherLoad.”

DIONYSIUS

Loss

She awoke slowly, not moving. Her dark eyes were obscure in her black face.

It was just as well. There was nothing to do in the small cage but to sleep.

A few were protesting loudly. She had given up puzzling over their impatience and lack of discipline.

She drifted into sleep again, dreaming this time of the smells blowing through the bluestem and the shrub cedar. There were goats to work yonder. Lying at his feet, ready. As she had that day until they came.

She heard his command, Load up, but she couldn’t get to the pickup.

Alien Consciousness

That morning in the lab D pulled me aside. Despite his typical detachment I sensed his excitement. I know how, he said.

To make the entity conscious? I asked.

He whispered, Obscurities.

Fully conscious?

Blind spots. Blanks.

I glanced at the spare box at the end of the workbench. D merely stared at me with a steady expectation. Of what?

There seem to be plenty of those, I remarked.

We don’t load them in it, he said. We load them in us.

We didn’t ask the entity what it thought, because it’s reasons are obscure, and how could we have understood them anyway?

What Are You Saying?

It’s the workload, said the shimmering voice from out of the burning bush. The bush was not consumed.

In the roar of eternally rolling seas was heard, The more I do, the more there is to do!

Delegate! said a gusting voice from out of a swelling whirlwind.

As if that could help! said the daughter of a voice from nowhere.

Inunununmaleptostumbleillthumbinbumplimplumpthumpbafcoarudlitlenicelessnessclumlyleastsnestubornaful!

It was a small, still voice that said, Everybody still looks for me when there’s a problem.

Silence spoke in an echo.

I need to get away, said a tired voice from on high.

At the Beach

Such a huge load to dump in the ocean, without a second thought. If everyone did it, he thought, how would it all fit? There were people up and down the sand, as far as he could see. Where would the water go?

The waves grabbed at the beach relentlessly. He realized with alarm how many people were already in the water. Only the heads of some were visible. How many are already underneath? How do they live? Do they live?

His reverie was broken by his mother’s gentle tug on his hand. Come on, she said softly. Everybody poops.

CHELSEA

Moving Day

Moving is always the same, whether you are three or thirty-three.

Take possessions, load into boxes

Take boxes, load into vehicle,

Wave goodbye, if applicable.

Drive.

Arrive.

Take boxes, load into new home

Eat pizza, from place around the corner, there is always a place around the corner, and drink beer also from place around the corner, with helpers, if applicable.

Kick everyone out on the pretext of unpacking.

Find, sheets, pillows and blanket. Make bed, bed frame not required.

Find either, TV or books.

Flop down on bed and relax.

The unloading will keep for the next day.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle Van Dunk had a full load; An Oscar Meyer Bonus Pack in the wiener gun and an air compressor and gas powered generator on the castor cart he pulled behind him to power the gun. He had questioned the effectiveness of the technology, both in the rounds the gun fired and how they were propelled. In the end, he realized the gun matched his ‘Wiener Dog Man’ persona so well, he couldn’t turn it down.
The cart suddenly became harder to pull.
“Get off there, Long John,” Dergle moaned. “My load is heavy enough to pull as it is.”

CALEDONIA

Tomorrow he starts college. No more using all his Mom’s blankets, cushions and chairs to build forts. No more “Mr Baloony” stories, using three prompts from the young master himself.

He bequeathed me his Disneyland Play Set – figures, slides, trains, things that spin. A tiny drawer contains the surviving figures. Not all of them made it through the many years of joy. Princesses lost their heads, as they often do. The flying elephant ride is missing one car. As my wee boy departs for halls of higher learning I am emotionally and functionally one Dumbo shy of a full load.

PLANET Z

A long time ago, my physics teacher built a demonstration of pressure that used wood, nails, and dolls.

The first was “Happy Hindu” who slept on a bed of nails. His weight was distributed across all of the nails, so the pressure from an individual nail didn’t hurt.

The second was “Sad Hindu” who rested on a bed of nail. His weight rested on a single nail, and it hurt like hell.

A Hindu student in the class was deeply offended by the stereotype.

The teacher apologized, played his flute, and climbed a rope into the ceiling where he vanished.