Weekly Challenge – Page 67 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #337 – Football

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Football.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of chip.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

TOM

Sports are seasonal; so, when the leaves fall it is time to get the old pig skin out. Well, by now Spalding is using some synthetic polymer; though I do hear the NFL balls are the real deal. As if a 10 year old could afford a NFL ball. No we settle for a Charlie Brown football and by proxy a Charlie Brown dilemma. In the past Luce pulls away the ball at the moment of contact you get lay out staring at the sky. So you hold her to a promise hoping that internal integrity will rise with maturity.

You run, you kick, you sail through the air, you hit the ground, you staring up at the azure sky, you remember you’re a cartoon character who has been 10 years old for 60 years. The question of milestone development markers becomes as mote as a Harvard Law School Debate. Further she has never failed to hover over you mocking your hyper developed embrace of trust. Are you spectator in the Allegory of the Cave or have you spend the last half century in a syndicated Skinner box. Quietly you muse over the tale of the Turtle and the Scorpion

JEFFREY

I had always wanted to be a football star. Too small for any other position, I set my sights on being the place kicker. Sadly, I was no good. My kicks had no distance. Every team cut me like lunchmeat at a deli.

Then came the space program. I was an astronaut, selected to be on the permanently-manned space city in high Earth orbit. One day we decided to form a football team, playing in space suits, not pads, and using the length of the station as our “field”. Perfect, I thought, low gravity. I was the kicker, of course.

Our one and only game came down to two seconds, my team behind by one, 90 yards to go. They called me in. I caught the ball cleanly with my foot and watched the ball sail on and on. With almost no gravity to stop it, the ball might have carried on forever. Sadly, I had forgotten we were in a gravity well. The ball hooked left and headed for Earth, missing the goal post badly before burning up during re-entry. Game over.

THOMAS

I abhor football. Moreover, it is a total waste of time to either watch or follow on and off field antics of overpaid mercenaries. If it were not for the violence and brain-rattling encounters, most of the people that watch it would find something productive to do. The same for auto racing, cage fights, and boxing. I learned very early that football was for pinheads and large clods that liked to break things, act violently and snap towels at each other’s buttocks in the locker room. A gentleman does not attend games, nor does he buy seven dollar hot dogs.

Football is a manly man’s sport. I bought a season ticket instead of getting the washing machine fixed. Little Bobbie and Jennifer can wear my old t-shirts to school instead of getting new clothes this year! I’ve been betting on games, and when I sit in the den wearing my jersey, shoulder pads and helmet, eating Cheetos and drinking beer, I am only despondent for a moment about my wife leaving, until the next ball is snapped. My pals, Nick and Ted come over and we make fun of the new family next door that “garden” and play croquet together.

John played football in middle and high school. He packed on the pounds, and when he was a senior, he wrestled super-heavy weight. He had his brain rattled so many times, he dropped out of junior college to work in the plywood mill so he could save money and marry his high school sweetheart. His future is working until he gets a back injury, then kicking back and drawing disability. He plans to spend a lot of time, sitting in his Peyton Manning jersey and taking care of the babies while his wife works at the local Walmart until retirement.

I love to watch football on the TV. The girls and I get together, each bringing a tray or two of salty and fatty snacks. We watch all the games on the weekend. Last Saturday we saw two guys carried off the field, a guy in the crowd hit a player in the face with a beer bottle. We love the sport. We also get very excited and a little bit damp when we watch demolition derbies. It’s the sound of the roaring engines and the crowd that move all of us in ways that our husbands and boyfriends cannot.

SERENDIPITY

This is what they warn you about… “The thing in room 101, is the worst thing in the world”

In my case, it’s football.

I may be in the minority, but for me football represents everything that is tedious, boring and senseless – all packaged in a monotonous nonsense of pointlessness.

It is hell on earth.

And it shares this nightmarish room with me, constantly, day and night.

I’ve screamed, begged and come near to insanity… but they haven’t broken me yet.

The thing is – after ten days stuck in this room – I’ve begun to realise that actually, I love football!

LIZZIE

The writer sat at his desk. He hated football and the editor who hated him made him write about what? Football, of course. The writer procrastinated. He reorganized his books and reshuffled his pens. He even tried to figure out how much the plant sitting on his desk had grown. He could write about the rules, the players, the millionaire contracts, the model wives. No… So, he started like this “What if I killed…” It was a success! He wrote a book and signed a movie contract. There was also the small matter of the lawsuit, but that’s another story.

MUNSI

I was doing dinner theater, living in a hotel near Calgary’s football stadium.

My day off, on my way out, I happened upon six gentlemen in Chewbacca costumes, each with a Saskatchewan Roughriders jersey over his wookie suit.

I was surprised, as you would be. When I asked if that was a thing amongst Roughriders fans, one of the Chewies told me that no, it wasn’t, but that it totally should be. And then they were off to support their team, the weirdest way they knew, and I was alone with my thoughts…

So yeah, I cheer for the Roughriders.

ZACKMANN

I told a friend that I have learned a little about football because
of reading or listening to most of the GFL books.
So he asks since I know about the GFL would I like to try fantasy football.
Naturally I asks if that means I can use dragons and orcs.
He says only players on a real football team.
I ask if that means Ki, heavyG humans, and Skilorno are okay.
No he tells me only regular humans.
I say you mean I only get to use humans like some minor Purist Nation
league that sounds a bit dull.

When I was a kid some of the best cartoons were on Saturday near the
end of the morning. We did not have youtube and videos were really
expensive so if we didn’t see them on Saturday morning, we did not see
them. Hence childhood taught me professional and college sports are
evil because they would replace my cartoons with pregame shows which I
could almost understand but one day they preempted my favorite
cartoons with a Pre pregame show. What kind of sadistic nutjobs ran
television stations when I was a kid? Predictably, I never became a
sports fan.

CLIFF

Football 1

Legend has it that the game of football first started after a medieval battle. The warriors, still full of adrenaline after the bloody fight, found a severed head and proceeded to try to kick it past one another. It eventually became part of the after battle ritual to play the new game to help the troops unwind. Rules evolved, team names were chosen, and game strategies were developed. The king put an end to it when he learned that troops were holding back in battle to save their strength for the big game. Shortly thereafter, the football riot was invented.

Football 2

When I was a teenager, every Friday night was the same. We’d all gather at the school, dressed to impress no matter the weather. The guys all acted stupid trying to impress the girls. The girls all giggled and acted like they didn’t know the guys were there. Everybody tried to act cool as only a high school kid could do. There was high drama and low humor. Teen love blossomed and died. There were threats and jokes and the occasional brief fist fight. All the usual stuff. Oh, and apparently, there was a football game going on somewhere too.

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Football!

Hello Jimmy? Jimmy boy how ya doin buddy?! ?
Yah I made across the pond. Yep, lots of rain.

Sounds like I’m outside? Dude I am outside!
I’m at a stadium watchin guys in short boxers kick a ball around then pile up on each other.
Not sure why they would do that.

Gotta speak up Jims! There is a lot of racket in the stands.
Oh I came with an English feller who disappeared after we got here.
He said there’s gonna be a football game here.

Must be right after all these fancy shorts get off the field.

Don’t bug me man!

I aint your football field, bug. Go somewhere else to play your games.

Runnin around with your high flyin friends and landing on me like I gotta
host your party. You go on your own path, don’t need to be playin on my skin.

The old days are gone man you don’t go buzzin ’round my place.
Don’t you tread on me man.
Don’t you go buggin me with your night crawlin and name callin.

You aint gonna spin no web that makes it alright,
aint gonna mug me so best if you move on and don’t bug me man!

CHRIS

It was twelve forty-five in the morning when I heard it. I had been playing the new game Minecraft and had started a mine. I made the mistake of digging straight down and fell in to a huge pit. There were red stone lamps on the walls and I could hear the sounds of thousands of mobs. I followed a tunnel in the pit and neared a huge cavern. Two sides of the cavern were lined with bleachers on side with zombies the other with zombie pigmen. In between the bleachers was a football field with zombies and zombie pigmen playing a common game, football.

STEVEN

The Titans’ homecoming game was not going well.

It was a perfect evening for football; clear air and just crisp enough to think about apple cider and light sweatjackets. But the Titans had trouble. Bobby twisted his ankle on the first play. It got worse from there.

With seconds left, the Titans were down by five. Fourth and goal. The center snapped the ball, the pass went high… and landed in the hands of Mike Winkerbean. Mike took a knee, just like his idol, Tebow.

A lightning bolt struck him as a voice boomed: “Thor bet on the other team.”

NORVAL JOE

Harold knew it had to be a dream, though the grass was wet on his bare feet. The late October evening was cold and his breath turned to steam with ever rapid, panicked, gasp.
Five foot ten and one-hundred-ten pounds soaking wet, he ran for his life, his striped, flannel, pajamas pants flapping with each stride.
A dream. And yet, the texture of the football was rough and real tucked between his arm and naked chest.
The touchdown would have won the game, but it was called back. Harold was neither in a proper uniform, nor on the team roster.

The pass is complete but the receiver takes a wicked hit from behind and the football is loose and bouncing across the field. It’s a race to see who will recover the ball, but the ball seems to be out running the the players. It can’t be. The Trojans have done it again. They’ve pulled the wiener dog sneak for the third game in a row.
While both teams are distracted chasing the wiener dog, the receiver runs to the end zone for a touchdown and another win for the red and gold.
Just look at that wiener dog run.

TURA

So last weekend I took the train over to Cambridge (the real one) to hear some music three hundred years old, in a church five hundred years old. Seven violin concerti from Vivaldi’s “L’Estro Armonico”, the Birth of Harmony, a collection that virtually created the baroque concerto, played by one of the leading baroque ensembles of our time.

Football? What care I, for football? Except that there was a big match in Norwich that ended shortly before I got on the train, and with departing football fans it was standing room only all the way. Liverpool 5, Norwich 2, apparently.

PLANET Z

I joined an online fantasy football league, but instead of trading and tracking real professional football players, we trade characters and creatures from fantasy novels and bedtime stories.

I put together my roster with the greatest of care picking ogres as linebackers, elves as wide receivers and a mighty stone giant as my quarterback.

My most important move was to put Rumpelstiltskin in charge of all stadium concessions. It didn’t matter how many games we won or tickets we sold, because the wicked little trickster spun the soda straws into gold and we all retired as billionaires, elves and all

REDGODDESS

During the recession, Lola’s neighborhood has gone through many changes. Her favorite book store became a luxurious spa. The Indian family who ran it disappeared. The foreclosed church is now a high end condominium, own by the football quarterback. She overheard two students say,”No one prays anymore anyways.” The library is slated to become a sushi restaurant. In the distance, where mostly immigrants live. One of the worst eye sore is still unfinished. A structure for a low-income housing development.It’s been five years since they broke ground. Oh well, like I said soon we all be eating Sushi.

Weekly Challenge #336 – Broken

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Broken.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of football.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

JEFFREY

Sales Call
by Jeffrey Fischer

They called me broken down, career over. It’s true I’ve had my setbacks. My sales numbers aren’t what they used to be, and I know I would have landed the Carson account back in my prime.

Still, this old boy has some fight in him. Stan, my boss, said I needed to win this account or I was out. No excuses. I swore I’d have the signed docs on his desk by tomorrow, and I don’t intend to fail.

You’re comfortable, right? The duct tape isn’t wrapped too tightly? Nod if you agree. Now just sit pat. When the deal is signed, I’ll be back to untie you. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll do it. I’m not broken.

TURA

I had an idea of the perfect pot. An idea so fragile that it trembled when I thought of it.

I spent two months making it, turning the finest clay on a kick-driven wheel (no soulless electric contraption would do), carving the designs, and then multiple rounds of painting, glazing, and firing.

But something went wrong in the final firing. I don’t know what. Too hot, too cool, too long, too short… The pot distorted and cracked.

But this is modern art! Who cares what it looks like! So I’ll just exhibit it as is. I’ll call it “Broken Pot”.

MUNSI

Why I Never Get Anything Done

By Christopher Munroe

I sit, trying to write, but all I can think about is Point Break.

Love that film…

The Swayze is at the peak of his power, invincible, and what passes for the plot is so wildly over the top that it’s impossible to watch without a big, dopey grin.

Even Keanu isn’t too objectionable. But it’s not like his acting chops are being particularly stretched…

It’s as perfect a dumb actioner as could be, and yes, I should be writing, and yes, I don’t have time for a movie, but still…

Point Break, man…

Screw it, productive work can wait…

THOMAS

The spindle was broken, and the 45 was not centered on the turntable. Everyone at the party was too whacked to manage the record player. The Rolling Stones’ tune, Satisfaction, played on through the night. The distorted and repeated tune made everything and everyone even more contorted. As the record spun, it produced a wow and swoosh as the needle danced across the vinyl. Two beautiful, black women embraced inside the bathtub, and didn’t stop making out if anyone went inside to use the toilet while they were there. I went outside, across the street, and watched the house vibrate.

The party was in San Francisco. A guy across the room remarked about the toenails on my chair being too red, and I, threatened by his familiarity, told him to shut up or I’d break him. My date had re-familiarized herself with her old boyfriend. He supplied all the chemicals that night, made with his lab and tools he took with him from a British chemical company when he moved to the States. Brian was the first, white collar, industrial spy I knew. He financed his lifestyle and two-story apartment with formulas and processes he sold to his American employer.

She was a broken woman. She lost her job at the coffee house, and her boyfriend broke up with her after catching her running around with his friend. He spread despicable and ugly rumors about her, and everyone was afraid to get close to her. She dyed her brown hair, blond, and went to law school. After college, she found herself writing books and moving into a career as a speaker, columnist and television personality. Never able to get her body weight above 60 pounds, Ann has been accused of being a pre-op transexual because of her prominent Adams’ apple.

Bill was broke. He sold all his books and records, gathered his essentials together, and fitted his ‘72 Oldsmobile as his home on wheels. He drilled a hole in the floor of the back seat so he could relieve himself, inconspicuously, at night while parked in the Walmart lot. He’d curl up in his sleeping bag, crack the front window a bit for air, and sleep until sunrise. No one bothered him, but he had to put up with another car dweller parked nearby. She fell in love with Bill, and wanted to move in with him. Bill drove away.

SERENDIPITY

My dad was not the most patient of men. He had his own way of fixing broken household goods: Whatever the problem, televisions, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, even broken-down automobiles could all be repaired with a good hard thump, clout or kick.

Occasionally he’d find success and the hapless piece of equipment would stutter onwards until the next violent ‘repair’ became necessary, but, inside… loosened components, cracked circuits and broken connections told a different story.

In the end, no matter how hard he thumped them – they stayed broken.

I could have told him that.

It never worked on me.

LIZZIE

“There was a war, a long time ago,” said the father. “They conquered the world.”

A broken fighter plane had been rusting in the open field.

“Is that why we can’t talk?” the son asked.

His father looked around fearing someone had heard them.

“Don’t say those things, son, you’ll get us in trouble,” the father whispered. “I think we should remove this junk and clean the field.”

The son crossed his arms.
“You know what? I think we should leave it, Dad. One day I’ll bring my son here and tell him about the war, so we don’t forget…”

MERRY

Space Storm by Merry O’Casey

Life’s turbulence is circumscribed by grace
of limited expectancy, its form
as nebulous and changing as a storm,
as anchored by our atmosphere from space.

When she stormed out saying she needed space, her anger made me so angry. How petty our arguments seem against the measure – well, against any measure, really. Against the broader measure of our own lives’ spans, or against the greater intensity of the suffering of refugees or tortured prisoners or mine slaves. Such indulgence: to have a quarrel about nothing at all.

And against the measure of space, and its storms? “Petty” doesn’t begin to describe – and I don’t mean to belittle her emotions or even mine by putting it all in perspective. I only wonder, why couldn’t we have parted normally, casually, that morning of all mornings?

Or desperate ridiculous desire: why could we not have known this was our final parting and given one another some token kindness to carry, she to wherever it is she’s drifting, I to where I’m bound.

Bound for nowhere but simply bound, aimless and earthbound, I look up at the stars on those nights when a few can still be seen, and curse the storm that carried her ship adrift in space.

Curses aimed at the infinite are unsatisfying. All there is to find at fault, are our own limitations: our inability to see any moment together, even a moment of annoyance, as better than time forever apart.

ZACKMANN

“His parents are divorced so he comes from a broken home
He does not fit well into our restroom but he will go outside because
he is housebroken.
He sang nerdcore in a band called Front and Centeur but he and
Frontalot broke up.
He has a girlfriend who works in a bookstore. He has gone broke buying books.
Her parents didnt like her dating a Centeur and now he is heartbroken.”
“I said I wanted a broke horse for children to ride at my kiddy
carnival but get him a background check because we have a position for
him.”

REDGODDESS

Lola walks toward the hotel garage to check the areas before leaving. As she approached the rear of the building, she notices a broken window on one of the cars and a man placing objects into a bag. Lola tiptoes toward the exit door to page security. Her heart is beating fast; she decides to go against all of her common sense and charge the burgler. That is the last thing she remembers. She is awoken by a kiss, her mans smile. She is in a hospital.
“Who did this?” He asks. She looks at her broken arm and curses.

###

Lola takes a deep breath and reaches for his hand. He seems so sincere when they’re together. He knows she wants to wait and that her heart has been broken before, he tells her it is okay with his dark eyes. Lola touches his beautiful lips with her finger and tells him to be quiet. She traces an ice cube down his muscular neck and shoulders, she kisses his rugged skin. “I’m ready,” she whispers. He lifts her onto the wooden table in the dining room she looks at the door hoping no one comes in as they become one.

BROKALI

I got the call at seven.

” Brokali?”

“Yes.”

“He finally did it, killed himself getting groceries, meet us at headquarters.”

Headquarters is a secret place for 100 word geeks.

“You’ll have to take over.”

“I can’t handle his workload. He has Sims, weekly challenges, people actually attend his events. He has cats.”

I went into a full panic. I passed out and was put on an IV, hospitalized, I turned and to my surprise I saw Crap Mariner.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Worse, I’ve broken my arm and need robot screws .”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Broken

Have you ever heard that saying “you never forget how to ride a bike, no matter how long it’s been”?
Just climb back up and take off! Weeee!!!

What they don’t tell you is that you forget how to maintain your maturity once mounted.

The first 3 jumps went smoothly. I was over confident and thinking I was that cool, freewheeling, kid with no fear.
Yes, doc I know “how lucky” and fortunate to “only” have one broken leg and a dozen cracked ribs.

Yes doc, I know to be more careful next time…Yes doc, I know I’m not sixteen!

Broken 2

Pablo, the black and white spaniel and his pal Sparkles, the obese calico, sporting a bright pink ribbon, had broken a rule on their last adventure.
The regulations dictated that they needed to get prior approval from “The Chairman”.

Sparkles pled the 5th when Pablo inquired about his knowledge of the rules.

Every neighborhood had their big bully but all knew that they ultimately answered to Chairman Meow.
Molly and Maggie the twin wiener dogs gave Pablo a little book of the neighborhood rules for future reference.

Sparkles ordered Pablo to take the rap and meet with Chairman Meow immediately.

Broken 3

John and George sat in the living room chatting about football.
“How long will you be in town John?”
“Just for today George, I was really hoping to connect with Linda”

“She is out shopping today, he snapped”

John noticed a bloody fingerprint on their wedding photo, the glass in the frame was broken.
In the hall, an edge of a suitcase was in view. That large mirror Linda loved from Italy was missing.

John stood telling himself to act natural. He shook George’s hand and left.
His back felt exposed as he turned from George and quickly walked away.

TARALYN

NO TEXT

DANNY

The worst thing your orthopaedic surgeon can tell you is there is to much swelling in your broken leg, your going to have to spend at least a week in bed with your leg elevated above your heart so the swelling will go down enough that a cast can actually be placed on your leg. That is what I was told when I was 19, after falling off a rope swing while drunk, landing on the banks of the Delaware river, breaking my lower right leg in the process. I spent that summer of my life in bed, and it sucked.

CLIFF

The interrogator had promised to break me. He told me that every man could be broken given enough time. I had laughed at him. That was weeks ago. Since then, there has been deprivation, torture both physical and mental, and always the question.
“What is two plus two?”
This morning, he came into my cell, gave me my clothes back, and announced that I was cured and was free to go.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You didn’t break me.”
“What is two plus two?” he asked.
I replied “It’s still four.”
“Exactly,” he said and left the room.

TOM

It was my last semester at the JR College. I was 3 months from turning 40. If I had been 40 that fateful night I wouldn’t have been in the gym in front of a volleyball net. At the time I thought how much trouble could I get in tapping a ball around. Hour one I take a hard step forward and feel a foot behind me smash into the back of my ankle. I yell, “What the fuck did you do?” The problem was the guy was a good 12 feet away. “Dude you ripple out your Achilles tendon.”

NORVAL JOE

“How is this goblin cube going to save us, Shareekwa?” Owen asked.
“Simply this, Owen. The Door of the Goblin King is an enchanted way-stone. There are compass stones constructed near every goblin-tribe settlement. This stone will transport us from one to another.
“I’m sure Elbownor knows the incantation. Come. Let’s find the compass stone.”
The company spread out and searched the forest as they walked toward the goblin village.
“Just before sunset. Traveler called out, “Found it.”
The company gathered around a pile of broken stones.
“We should camp here tonight,’ The ranger said, “I’ll try to fix it.”

KIMI

The small robed man rubbed his freshly shaven head in a

circular motion. He had burst into the kitchen and half yelled

“rats!” over and over, along with a stream of what may have

been Tibetan. Geshe was normally such a quiet and

reserved person, I grew concerned about his agitated state.

“rats”, he said again, curling his lips and squinting his eyes.

“Where?” I finally managed to interject. He grasped my shirt

sleeve and drug me to the front room wher he stood in cront

of the habitrail. “Gerbils” I pronounced. “Gurr-balls” he

returned in broken English. “Rats” I smiled.

PLANET Z

King Rufus didn’t like magic, so instead of a Court Magician, he hired a Royal Spellbreaker.

Once a mage of the wizards Guild, the spellbreaker had been expelled over a petty dispute. He made his living revealing the tricks behind the feats of wonder his former colleagues performed.

Love potions were analyzed and revealed to be nothing more than colored alcohol.

Cursed swords just intentionally mis-balanced by the blacksmith.

And the many wondrous beasts of the kingdom nothing more than unusually-groomed poodles.

“You’re just a man in an ice demon suit,” he said mockingly to his would-be assassin.

And died.

Weekly Challenge #335 – Cube

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Cube.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Ms. Anderson’s voice grated. “Are you enjoying trunk-or-treat, Billy? You make such a cute angel!” She handed him several cubes of low-fat, low-sugar, low-taste caramel.

Billy scowled. “I wanted to be a werewolf.”

Billy’s mother blanched. “Billy, is that any way to be on Beggar’s Night?”

Billy shook off the costume’s wings and walked away. “It’s Halloween,” he muttered, low enough that neither woman heard him.

In the brilliance of the headlights, the congregation planned their defense against the War On Christmas.

Billy looked past the lights, past the suburbs, to the moon beginning to rise.

Billy began to howl.

JEFFREY

The Cube
by Jeffrey Fischer

I concentrated and my world shrank around me. In my mind I could see the universe contract: galaxies collapsed, solar systems merged, planets melded, the Earth shriveled until I was a singularity. No noise, no distractions, no *people*. Bliss.

Heaven was shattered by a bleating sound to my left. The universe expanded again, leaving me in a cacophony of phone conversations, small talk, sports radio, and several different kinds of music. The final straw came when Dwayne popped his head over the cubicle wall. “Hey, man, you wanna get a cup of coffee?” The smell of his everything bagel was still rich on his breath.

I sighed. “Sure. It’s not as though I’m getting anything done here.”

THOMAS

They lived in a white, multi-windowed cube. Designed by third year students of architecture at Technische-Hochschule in Darmstadt, Germany, and manufactured of resined paper, the two story, two-bedroom home was not only roomy and comfortable in all weather, but it was portable. Made in ten sections, the house and utility hook-ups could be loaded onto a flatbed truck and transported easily to a building site. All of the living room’s inside walls were left unpainted, and covered with clear sealant. The German, Dutch and Danish newspapers and soft porn magazine covers provided entertainment for visitors and residents, alike.

The sugar cube was supposedly doctored with LSD. Sold to us for ten dollars in a Greenwich Village Coffee house, I and my Coast Guard mates were sold, plain sugar cubes taken from the table next over, by a bearded hippie. During the summer of 67’, we had gone to New York to seek adventures in the Big Apple. After dissolving the cube and waiting for forty-five minutes, we realized we had been duped by the sly fellow, and concluded that our fresh, pink faces and uniforms gave us away, distinguishing us as rubes from the base in Cape May.

Margaret Cho is as funny as a cube of compacted horse dookie. She’s loud, popular with the gay crowd, and has found an audience that appreciates her vulgar humor and imitations of her Korean mother. She is more annoying than stepping barefoot in a fresh load of dog poop. There are a lot of more clever, intelligent, creative comediennes than Cho. Funny women are an aphrodisiac, I confess. My old friend, Sharon, a nurse on Amtrack in the 60’s, made me laugh so hard I fell to the floor, held my aching sides, and I recall, I widdled a little.

The Cubists were known for their unique approach to painting and design. Alphonso Derigueur, a little known French painter, took his art far beyond the realm of two-dimensional surface painting. Derigueur developed expressive and allusive abstractions dedicated to complex sexual and auto-erotic themes, often constructed of chunks of lean beef and pork, all originating at his Uncle Kenny’s farm. His objects were broken into component planes and geometric solids… cubes, spheres, and cones. The sculpture became a pervasive influence and contributed fundamentally to the early adoption of backyard barbeques, tubes of liverwurst and an array of Oscar Meyer lunch meats.

TOM

The cube was vast and sublime. Smooth despite its age. “It must have had a purpose,” said Frank. “Nope,” returned Rudy. “Just look at it. It’s the biggest damn thing in the whole valley.” “So” “No one just builds a giant old cube in the middle of nothing for no reason.” “Ok, religious artifact.” “You don’t believe that.” “Oh contraire, it divides the universe into six active and passive parts.” “What?” “OH holy Quadrilateral frustum giver of light food and water protect us from darkness hunger and drought.” “It’s a regular hexahedron.” “Whatever.” “Rudy what does Jack-in-the-Box mean?” “Beats me.”

MUNSI

The corners must be ninety degrees. Exactly ninety. Eighty-nine or ninety-one won’t do. It’s important that the angles are correct, lest it isn’t a cube.

The sides, similarly, must be equal length, though what length is up to you. It’s consistency we need here, not specific measurement.

And lastly, it must exist. A cube that exists is by definition more perfect than one that doesn’t.

Also, it should be all-knowing, all-powerful, and the creator of the universe. These things also increase its perfection.

And there you have it. The perfect cube.

Now: To find a use for such a thing…

KIMI

NO TEXT

SERENDIPITY

Somewhere out there, there’s an alternative universe, where spheres simply don’t exist… (take the third wormhole on the right for a few million light years).

In the cubiverse, star-shaped stars shine upon six-sided planets as they describe their awkward, trapezoid orbits through space, (negotiating the corners can be a bit tricky at times!). And there, in the Goldilocks Zone, is an improbable blue planet, inhabited by a race that has never known the circle.

Cars lurch on square wheels, footcube is a favourite sport and Excel never complains about circular arguments.

Please don’t fall off the edge though!

JEFF

I Miss My Mother

Since being married, I feel like my personal space is shrinking.
Whenever I try to check on my friends on Facebook, she keeps breathing down my neck. Sometimes we fight because, according to her, if I reduce the window then I’m doing something suspicious.
I remember once she got on my case when she checked my mailbox and found a spam email about dating. Of course I had nothing to do with that but it was enough to call our relationship into question.
Now we’re deprived of the Internet and I don’t know for how long it’s going to last.

ZACKMANN

“If only I knew that Rubiks Cubes would be popular again, I would have
bought a couple at a dollar store a few years ago.” Said Zack
“I thought they were popular when you were a kid” said Drew
“and how would you know?”
“the same way I know everything about your childhood.”
“your grandmother told you?”
“No, Dad someone made a cartoon about it and I read it on TV Tropes.
What happened the to one you had as a kid and did you solve it?”
“Oh yes son, I solved mine with the aid of a sledge hammer”

CLIFF

I tossed the dice across the table. The tiny white cubes danced and fell to reveal garbage.
Death chuckled and scooped up the dice. “Time to roll the bones.”
That was his favorite joke. It was starting to get on my nerves. Still, he was Death. He could get away with dark humor. He rolled.
“Yatzee!”
We groaned. Death had won again. I started cleaning up the empty bottles.
Death gathered his scythe and started towards the door.
“Scrabble on Thursday?”
You have an appointment…with Death.” He’s a nice guy, but his humor gets a little old after a while.

TURA

Behold the People’s Palace! A perfect cube, the perfect symbol for our perfect country! The great banqueting hall within, a perfect cube, and each of the council rooms!

I was the architect. The old ways are proscribed, but I studied them secretly. Anyone in the old days could tell you that a cube is the worst possible shape for a building. The feng shui remains directionless, stagnant. It festers. Our Benevolent Leaders last about three years living in it, and every minister hates those meeting rooms.

And I know exactly where to set explosives, to bring the whole thing down.

LIZZIE

Cube 1

It’s sad not to fit in. It creates stress and loneliness. It shakes beliefs and disrupts inner balance. He didn’t fit in. He tried to, for a long time. He tried a hat, wearing green, putting on makeup. Everyone mocked him. He tried black and blue, he tried peace for all. Everyone mocked him still. He tried the word; he tried a vow of silence. He tried, despite the sneers, the mockery, and the disdain. So he folded himself in four and slid into the transparent cube in the corner of the room. Now he would fit in. Status: Invisible.

Cube 2
Place a cube on top of another, carefully, oh so carefully. Link everything with strings, and link it well. Turn it around a few times and upside down, just to test it. Does it fall apart? No? Good, it’s done. Now place the giant on the floor. It will take a step, then another. It will walk. And it did. The problem was that the cities of the world were not ready for its massive stepping. And it was even worse when the giant started stomping enthusiastically all over, inspired by a certain group who likes garbage cans and brooms.

MONDAY

Cube hates his job at the psychology lab. His life seems to him to be just one long cycle of others literally attempting to put him into a round hole. For starters there is his job title: “square peg”. That implies a somewhat more rectangular height profile and he is a cube: three inches by three inches by three inches. That title doesn’t pop on the resume of an upwardly mobile cube. Why, he could contribute the stability of his very being to something. He only took this gig for the money. What he really wants to do is direct.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Cube

Carol said, “Here is your cube Mr. Dodgson.”

Charlie was very unhappy with the irregularity of the vertex’s and sides. He sat thinking he had hit rock bottom in his career as a mathematician!
After further introspection he pulled out some paper and began writing his first children’s story.

With his first chapter inked his decision was final. He handed Mr. Jaberwicke his resignation. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson aka Lewis Carroll, went on to be quite a prolific author and a pretty good photographer.

Moral to the story: If you put a mathematician in a cube, make sure it shapes up!

Cube

Pablo was slumped over in his chair. Rescuing Pepe was harder than he thought.

He was exhausted. Pablo swirled his paw to make the ice cubes in his gin and tonic tinkle on the side of his crystal tumbler. Yes off the Scotch now!

He stared at the cubes dancing and bobbing transfixing his gaze mesmerizing him. Memories of a clumsy clown returned.
A sudden chill went up his spine raising all his fluffy black and white fur.

He never imagined he would bite a human, even an evil one! The only thing funny about that clown was the taste!

REDGODDESS

This summer has been the hottest since Lola started at the hotel. She got in the habit of drinking an iced mocha topped with whipped cream at her old job when stressed. Now, her budget allows for iced water. Her mind wanders to him. Their last date was a welcoming surprise offsetting her madness. Staring at her iced water, Lola daydreams about their shared champagne. What she would like to do with each ice cube. She becomes lost in her fantasy when his gentle voice interrupts her. “Penny for your thoughts” She turns and sees him,”I’d rather show you.”

NORVAL JOE

Fortunately for the company, except Spleen, the majority of the gore from the exploding goblin giant blasted away. Spleen lay within the proximity of the forward blast, covered in greenish red gore, his right arm extended before him, his hand in a fist.
The company inched forward between the larger gobs of gore and stood around the fallen half-goblin.
“What have ye in yer hand, Spleen?” Flindert asked.
Spleen’s only movement was to slowly open his fist. On his palm sat a translucent silver cube.
Shareeka gasped, “The door of the goblin king. Spleen, you may have saved us all.”

DANNY

Professor Rubik, what’s all the hype about this “Cube” you have created? “It’s a 3D Mechanical Puzzle,” Professor Rubik responded. I felt compelled to point out in my response, in the most uncompromising of terms, “what significance will a 3D Mechanical Puzzle have on American culture, as well as the rest of the world?” Professor Rubik fired back, “My creation is not just mathematical, it’s pure sulpture! My purpose was to solve a structural problem, moving the parts of my cube independently without it falling apart, I didn’t realize I created a puzzle until the first time I scrambled it!

There’s a pile of boxes in the living room. It’s smaller than it was two weeks ago when we moved them all in, but it’s still there. I haven’t been able to take time off from work to actually get settled in my home so I’ve been opening them as I’ve had time. Some of them belong upstairs, so they get put next to the stairs, and whenever either of us need to go upstairs– which is where they installed the washroom– we take a box with us. It gradualizes organization, but everything does eventually get to where it’s going.

PLANET Z

The new place where I work provides delicious catered lunches, so I’ve changed my eating habits from big breakfasts and dinners to large lunches with lighter breakfasts and dinners.

Dinner is usually a bag of frozen vegetables in a light sauce of some kind or another.

Kroger sells these for a buck.

The peas are round and green.

The green beans are little green cylinders.

And the carrots are perfect tiny orange cubes.

Best of all, they’re handy as ice packs – great for my broken elbow.

So, you think i can write these off as a medical expense?

Weekly Challenge #334 – Space

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Space.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

THOMAS

Just how much space does the average human require? Most answers I found said two square feet. I needed to find out before I started shopping for luggage and trunks for my new, out-of-the-way farmhouse in upstate Massachusetts. I am a quiet fellow. I am polite, keep to myself, and have never been in any trouble, although I hated my parents and wet my bed until I was seventeen. I plan to change that when I move to my new home. I’m tired of living day by day, and I want to spice things up a bit. A little bit.

“Space. I need more space!” She screamed, jumping up and down, tears flying from her red, swollen face. She was relentless until we caved and rearranged her cubicle. A long time employee of Metropolitan Insurance, she had a lot of pull, knowing the secrets the director had hidden in his closet, where the bodies were buried, and in possession of dozens of private, executive memoranda. We replaced her computer screen with a larger one, bought her a large, Hello Kitty wall clock, and gave her the new Herman Miller Embody office chair, in the brightest shades of pink she specified.

Space. The final frontier. These are the planned voyages of Thomas’ new gyrocopter. Its 5-year mission is to explore the strange new shopping center, the college, and the housing development. At night, running with no lights…to seek out new life and new neighbors to spy on with night goggles and photograph with infrared…to boldly go where no man has gone before, nor dared to go before…to a vantage point overlooking the girl’s dorm room of the university.

#
Two spaces after a period, one after a semicolon, and one after a comma. No spaces between the top, central incisors of movie stars and fashion models, unless they are the of the likes of Madonna, Natalie Cole, Laura San Giacomo and Laura Hutton. Supposedly oversexed and well-traveled, these gap-toothed women can whistle like song birds and put a steady stream of water into a container ten feet away. The envy of other women, and sought after by men because of the folklore that surrounds them, these unique beauties were once said to have “summer teeth”. Summer here, summer there.

MUNSI

Know what trope I miss? Attaching “Space” to things to make them more future-ey.

Writers used it for a good long while! People would take space-ships to space-stations, change into space-suits and space-walk to the spaceport. It was cheesy, I’ll grant you, but it had a certain space-charm.

Space = Future fell out of fashion once people started actually going to space, I think. But we’ve built awesome robots to send in our place now, so I think “Space” is due for a space-comeback. Who’s with me?

I hope you’ve enjoyed my space-story. Now: I’m off to eat my space-lunch.

LIZZIE

Something crashed beyond the mountain.

“Don’t go,” they yelled. But she walked through the shallow waters all the way to the other side.

“Aliens…!”

She wanted to run, but… They were grumbling about some technical failure and trying to cool the engine down.

“Need any help?” she asked amused at the scene.

“Yeah, a couple of you could hop in our energy processor so we can go back home. That would be great.”

“Like… burn to death?”

The aliens shrugged. “Whatever…” and got back to fixing the engine.

These days, you can’t even trust an alien to be scary anymore!

######

She waited. The storm would be the cover. It would not be an invasion of green oddballs with antennas; it would not be a hostile takeover by semi-invisible, deformed, zombie resembling beings. It was just… an arrival, a settling and hopefully a peaceful cooperation. They had heard a lot about humans… She waited. She waited a long time until they sent the message that they wouldn’t get there anymore. She got back in her car and drove home. It would be a long 100 years till that storm came round again. Perhaps then they would too. Till then, she waited.

JEFFREY

She said she didn’t want to break up, she just wanted some space. Well, let me tell you, man, I’ve heard that before and I know what it means. It means she wants to break up but doesn’t have the guts to say so.

At least she told me in person. When you’re dumped with a phone call or a text message – how lame is that? Has that ever happened to you? – you feel like… like dirt, like she never cared enough about you to tell you face to face.

We were at the rooftop bar of the W, the one on 15th Street. Pricey drinks, but great views. Anyway. She told me she wanted her space, so I gave it to her. Just like that. One push, over the edge, eleven stories down. I yelled, “Is that enough space for you?” as she went.

Women, what can you do about them? Am I right, officer?

TOM

It’s been 20 years that we have been in the house. Or should I say it’s been 20 years since we sneaked into the house. Even though the house was sitting on our land, we had paid that off the year before, the manufactured home agent said until the bank loan cleared we could not go inside. I’ve never been shy about climbing through a window, should’ve been a second story man, anyway I open the front door for Gail and we sit down on the 3 foot high roll of carpet. Our whispers echoed off the vast empty space.

SERENDIPITY

There I am – full load of shopping and some selfish idiot has parked in my allocated space… again!

I’m not normally a violent person, but something inside me snapped – I saw red, jumped out of my car with a banshee cry and went completely nuts.

Within minutes the offending vehicle was a write-off: smashed headlights, cracked windows, slashed tyres and – keyed into the paintwork along one side – ‘NEVER PARK IN MY SPACE AGAIN!’

I thought I’d bent my key, because I couldn’t open the front door… then I noticed the number, and my heart stopped.

This isn’t my apartment building!

MONDAY

He sat on his therapist’s couch boring her to tears. While he navigated through major life crises with remarkable aplomb for someone so damaged, he was easily caught up in the emotional flypaper of everyday life. Today, though, his worries crowded out his thoughts and he struggled for enough cognitive space with which to cultivate insight.

“How’s work going?” She’d chosen to not allow his current silence to resolve itself of its own accord.

“It’s still the worst job I’ve ever had,” he replied. “But I think I have an exit plan formulating. I feel I’ve moved beyond merely whining.”

ZACKMANN

“Why did you buy so many cans of chili? “ she rants.
“It was on sale.” explains her husband.
“Do you know how many things are past expiration dates?”
“That is only the Sell by Date not the expiration date.”
“Two thousand five! Why do we have things with that as the sell by date.”
“Because,” he admits “we moved twice in two thousand one.”
“We have no room for so much stores.”
“You just wait and see how prepared I am for the zombie apocalypse”
“I am guessing zombies will not want your pantry full of expired can
goods either.”

######

“Hi Honey, what are you doing with all those tin cans?”
“Well dear, Mrs Zackmann gave these to me to feed to the hogs since
they are past the sell by date. After I feed everything to the hogs, I
am going to build a spaceship like in that old radio drama. ”
“Really” She says.
“Well not the Spam. I think wild hogs might eat each other but that
sets a bad precedent.”
“No, the spaceship part?”
“Yeah really, What could possibly go wrong?”
“Ship exploding?”
“But I am not planning to commit insurance fraud like the radio
characters tried”

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Space

Thank you for shopping at Government. Your existence is important to us.

When the green light is flashing, please deposit 70% of your wages and form 10836-57 into hamper.
Please ensure your form is double spaced, 12 font new times roman.
Include your date of birth, blood type, social security number.

Providing family history less than four generations will void your request.
If you are deceased, and want to vote, complete the blue form.
Please do not call us to ask valid questions. No answers will be provided.

Government is handling your request.

Everything is fine.

You can trust Government

Space!

All their civilization’s resources were utilized in building the ship prototype.
A setback would send the entire ant kingdom back to the stone age.

The crew were boarding. They would conquer vast distances of space!

The moment of truth!

Boner, the green swamp dog, liked to roll around in grass, hence his green fur.
He had one rule, if you don’t understand something, eat it!
He saw the Ant Ship, hundreds of armoured insects boarding the strange object. He lapped with his long tongue.

ate it all.

Puzzle solved.

One lone ant remained raising his defiant fist!

An enemy born!

CLIFF

So I casually mentioned to Dave that he’d parked in my space again. He laughed, said he was sorry and that he didn’t realize it. The next day, the Kia was in number 42 again. I stopped by Dave’s desk, but he was on a conference call or so he said, so I left a note. Wednesday, I went in early but Dave had beaten me. Thursday, I swear he parked it at a cocky angle, just to tick me off. Friday, I set fire to the Kia in space number 42. Or was it 24? I having hate dyslexia.

CALEDONIA

“…and, BY GOD, you’ll give me MINE!” His fist hit the chair armrest with a thud. She tried to remember what she’d seen in him at the Academy, but she didn’t remember much from then. Too many parties. Too much Romulan Ale. He’d had disarming, boyish good looks, and that strange, sexy kind of halting speech. He’d encouraged her, till now. No hesitation as her hand slammed on the black button. A satisfying “schrump!” as he and the chair disappeared through the deck, and a distant scream out through the airlock. Smiling softly, she said, “I got yer ‘Final Frontier.’”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The speaker crackled and clicked on. “Everything good, Sergeant?”

The astronaut tied to the chair moaned through the gag.

“I know you’re not a man of science, so hopefully you’ll forgive a small lecture.”

The man strained against the plastic ropes, tipping the chair over.

“Sound is transmitted by molecules vibrating against one another. And space is a vacuum. No molecules.”

The man saw the bomb, just out of reach.

“Well, not quite a vacuum. Just very few molecules. They have to move a long way to hit another one.”

The bomb’s timer ticked down to zero.

“So scream loud.”

KIMIANNE

The newly affordable time machine had spurred strings of plaza and mall busineses. “Where today and yesteryear meet”, the sexy female voice purred from the speaker just inside the shop at Tower Place. People used to have to carry around their broken lives, patching what they could with words and good intentions which ultimately failed. That is, until now. A chance for a new beginning, to never utter those damnable words, to return before the ravages of disease and time took their toll.
It was over and done with in the space of three minutes. Death and rebirth.

REDGODDESS

Lola wakes up to rain tapping her bedroom windows. She sleep walks through her apartment, looking for her cell phone. Something feels different today.
“I guess I’m all alone.”
On the cluttered kitchen table an upside down pineapple cake rests with a fork in the middle. Lola pauses and can no longer hear the rain. Every time her grandmother has bad news, she bakes Lola’s favorite dessert. Lola takes a tiny bite and hurries back under the bed comforter. She tastes the memories of every problem and hears the rain again. She wishes she could run away to space, and scream her worries away.

NORVAL JOE

“Give me some space,” Shareeka said, took a deep breath and relaxed her arms at her sides.
The company moved behind the wizardess.
Spleen waved his arms over his head and screemed as he ran toward them.
“I wish he’d get out of my way,” Shareeka said about the half-goblin.
“I can arrange that,” Elbownor said, knocking an arrow.
Shareeka raised her hands and Owen saw the meadow around them ripple with heat waves.
Fortunately for Spleen, he tripped. Shareeka sent a wave that sucked the air from the meadow. The demon giant was blasted to countless gobs of gore.

The new house is fine. The space is organized a little weirdly. All of the upstairs bedrooms are tiny, and all the ceilings are low. Meanwhile, the main floor ceilings are so much higher. We determined that we could finagle an acceptable amount of privacy in what’s probably meant to be the dining room on the main floor and made that the bedroom. We’ll just eat in the living room– once it’s not overflowing with boxes– or on nice days we’ll eat out on the porch. As for the tiny bedrooms, we’re using one of them as a walk-in closet.

TURA

I step through the church porch and close the heavy wooden door, hearing the echoes of the latch dropping into place. The nave runs eastward, to my right. No rood screen, I think. There is one aisle, on the north side. I walk up the nave and sit on one of the pews, listening to the silence. There is no-one else here.

Mathematicians have proved that you cannot hear the shape of a drum. But the three-dimensional case is not settled. Can you hear the shape of a space?

Well enough, I think, tapping my white cane on the stone.

PLANET Z

When Neil Armstrong died, I wondered where he would be buried.

Would he be buried at the museum in his hometown of Wapakoneta, Ohio? Or would his final place of rest be in Arlington National Cemetery, another hero added to their collection?

Perhaps they would blast his ashes into space as payload, like Clyde Tombaugh, Pluto’s discoverer?

I unfolded the form letter his office had sent, declining my request for an autograph.

Humble. Decent.

Neil was a Navy man, and he shunned the spotlight for self-promotion or enrichment.

Just a simple burial at sea for him, vanishing into the waves.

Weekly Challenge #333 – Red

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Red.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

RAILS

There’s a red under the bed was the catch cry of the cold war, I looked under my bed and all I found was dust and the odd half chewed sweet. Where was the red under the bed. I turned the bed clothes upside down, and inside out, still no red in the bed.

So much for propaganda, there was no red under my bed, the Government were lying or maybe hiding the elusive red under their bed.

I slept more soundly when I didn’t find that elusive red under my bed, but wondered who’s bed he was under.

THOMAS

The Red Scare hit high school in the fifties, when Red Buchanan transferred from his school in Oklahoma. He was a buck-toothed, burr-headed, cretin with a chip on his shoulder, and filled with the self-generated fantasy of being a cowboy. The nearest Red ever got to beef was at Jack In The Box, where he stuffed his big, stoopid (sic) face with burgers three times a day. He carried a knife in his cowboy boot, but when he needed it to clean fingernails or play mumbledepeg, he had to remove his boot. This negated all the coolness of having a switchblade.

It turned bright red and in a week after it appeared, it spread further, until it exploded into a spray of even more intensity. The patch of Chinese opium poppies were all volunteers, propagated by the birds that live in Thomas’ Wild Animal Park and Sanctuary. He waited until the petals matured and fell off, then scored the pods, waiting until the seepage flowed. He collected it, dried it, then brewed the tea so popular with his Uncle Kenny and the graphic designer next door. The electric meter reader was bribed with some product so he wouldn’t turn him in.

“Roses are 700 nanometers, violets are 400.” Jonnie was a clever little guy, and was in the advanced placement physics class. He wrote his first poem for his classmate, April, hoping to impress her with his knowledge of light and wavelength. Functioning at the highest level of Asperger’s Syndrome, Jonnie could only relate to autistic students or teachers that were appropriately trained to deal with “special” students. Misunderstood and teased by other students at Roosevelt Junior High until he opened his own software company when he was nine, selling it to Google for cash and stock when he turned eleven.

The Ketones played nightly at The Red Moon. Smooth as silk, they did all the fifties tunes that we slow-danced to. More ladies were impregnated in the parking lot of The Red Moon than in the town of Port Hadlock. The Ketones practiced on street corners for a couple of years. Then, around 1958, they ran into a couple of guys who also sang on the corner: Eddie Montgomery, and Frederick “Money Guitar” Jones. Jones a lefty, taught himself to play a right-handed guitar held upside down. Earl Poppindeau, played the bass, and Tommie “Three Balls” Johnson, was the percussionist.

TURA

“Mummy, what’s black and white and red all over?”

I sleepily turned over and looked at the clock. Three in the morning. Jack wasn’t there, he must still be up working, again. “Go back to bed sweetheart,” I murmured.

“What’s black and white and red all over?” she repeated.

“I don’t know, what *is* black and white and red all over?” I said, playing along.

She didn’t say anything.

“A newspaper?”

“A book?”

“I have to show you,” she said, at last, in a small voice.

Jack wasn’t there. I didn’t hear him typing. I silently whispered, “A suicide note.”

SHRUTI

For a change she was quiet. The woman had driven him to bankruptcy with her demands of jewellery in exchange for love. He had been angrier with himself rather than her after she left. He had let her take him for a fool.

He hadn’t come intending to hurt her. All he wanted was what he had paid for. Her refusal had been her downfall.

He let the blood drip down the knife’s edge creating a pattern on her neck as it went. Rubies had been her favourite and he thought it justified to adorn her with the red necklace.

TOM

Lester Patterson was a cautious man. Drove with hands at 10 and 2. Heavily insured, multiple 401s. Lived on a cul-de-sac on the side of a cliff. Worked for a branch of the government, in an office that hadn’t seen a layoff since the Taft administration. He attended a non-descript flavor of protestant church, weekly. A totally reasonable person in everyway but one, he loved The Wager. This said you might think Lester was a gambler, far from it. The man only wagered once a year, at a single casino, at one table, only one bet. A thousand on Red.

JEFFREY

The Girl in the Bikini
by Jeffrey Fischer

I put down a folding chair and a bucket of beer bottles and set up my umbrella on an unpopulated stretch of beach. Mostly unpopulated, anyway: a young woman lay out in the hot sun, working on a nice, even tan. She had slipped off the straps of her bikini top to avoid tan lines and was now luying on her stomach. I picked up the new Brad Thor thriller and started reading.

Four beers and three hundred pages later – that guy knows how to keep the pages turning! – I looked up. The woman hadn’t moved in several hours. I assumed she had fallen alseep. Maybe it was the beer talking, but I placed the book on the sand next to me and yelled, “Oh my God, a shark! Run for your life!” As I hoped, the woman woke and rolled over, exposing her breasts as her top fell to the sand. She grabbed a towel and glared. “You bastard!” I shrugged. “I thought you’d want that sunburn to be applied evenly.”

It’s true that she beat me mercilessly with my book, but her yelps of pain each time she whacked me showed it hurt her more than it hurt me.

LIZZIE

“He said go,” protested the soldier holding a gun.

“No, he said take your time,” replied the other soldier.

“He said go.”

“He said take your time.”

And this continued for half an hour.

“Are you done?” asked the sergeant suddenly. “Get going. Now!”

The soldiers jumped the side of the trench and started moving, still fussing about the orders, not paying attention to the whistling war around them.

It was fast, it was painless. Their lives and their disagreements were now part of the past.

Their families would receive a letter of condolences. It would be stamped in red.

GUARD 13007

A red LED turns on, then blinks twice and turns green. A whole board of lights goes on and off haphazardly, and there is a whirring noise in the dark. A floodlamp flickers a few times and goes out. Several LEDs turn red.

There is a hissing noise and a set of chemical lights activate, revealing a hibernation pod in a foggy green glow. The hatch squeaks open and the occupant looks around. He pulls the hibernation equipment out and slowly sits up.

He looks at the wall of LEDs, a few green, most are red. And there is blood.

MUNSI

RedRum

By Christopher Munroe

I finally bought myself a bottle of RedRum.

I figured it’d provide material for stories, going forward. You know, unexpected deaths, scrambling to hide bodies, the whole thing. Something pun-based yet horrific.

Disappointing.

Nobody died, no horrifying revelations, overall it was an uneventful night, drinking Rum and struggling to write.

I may have overdone it. Rum’s never agreed with me, and putting down the whole bottle was probably unwise.

Now my head’s pounding, I’m queasy and I can’t focus my eyes. I’ve never had a hangover this bad in my life! It hurts like mur…

Oh! I just got it!

SERENDIPITY

She has eyes of startling red.

It’s never bothered me in the slightest, but it seems other people are oddly freaked by it.

“Vampire?”, they ask… “Some sort of medical condition?”… “Is it some bizarre body modification thing?”

Why do people always have to leap to the wrong conclusions, coming up with crazy ideas when it’s actually nothing much? There’s no mystery, at all – just ask her and she’ll explain – it’s really very simple.

She just has very bad aim – and lip gloss has always been a bit of a struggle.

You should see where she puts the eye-liner!

ZACKMANN

Fiendship is Magic
“So sweet yet so foolish for you to come into the woods with me.
Pinkypie did you think it was strange when I asked if I could tether
you and bring you out here all by yourself.”
“No, it was fun when Spike did it and we tried a bunch of stuff from a
book Purity was reading.”
“Bet you wish Fluttershy told you she has an evil sister. After I tie
you to this tree, I will cut you and use your red blood to summon….”
“Oh No do not summon Discord” interrupts Pinky
“No, silly I’ll summon Garaaga”

BOTGIRL

We look across the room and meet each others’ gaze. Deep dormant trauma stirs, rising and morphing through layers of thawing emotion until it surfaces masked and cloaked.

We oscillate from pole to pole, emotional magnets flipping between attraction and repulsion; love and hate; benevolence and jealousy; anger and sadness; connection and isolation.

Marionettes on invisible strings, we dance until we are entangled and bound. If numbness does not prevail, we descend back through the depths. To the pain and grief hiding beneath our rage. And the terror cowering in the heart of our desire. Silently praying to be healed.

MONDAY

He never got past the antiquated idea from the decade of greed, that red was a power color. He wore red ties and drove a red car. He wrapped his pathetic crotch in red bikini briefs further stoking the fires of his own ego. He came home from work and announced red letter days to his wife whom, incidentally, he felt could go a bit heavier on the rouge and lipstick. His drink of choice was Campari and soda, a blood orange monstrosity pronounced with annoyingly elongated Massachusetts vowel sounds. In short he was a true, world class douche bag.

CLIFF

Almost missed it this week. Today was the last performance of our play. By the time I got home, I just wanted to fall into bed. Then, at the last minute, I remembered that you were counting on me. I don’t have the energy to record it, but here are my thoughts on the prompt of RED…

Modern fire engines sort of a sickly yellowish color. I guess I’m a traditionalist. I like the old red fire trucks. I loved to see them racing down the streets. When I was a kid, I would stand on the curb, waiting to see them roar past me on the way to douse a blaze. The bigger the blaze, the more trucks I saw. When a house burned, they’d send three. When the school was destroyed, there were a dozen trucks from around the county. No one ever noticed that I always knew when they were going to show up.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Impossible!

Mirella looked at her violin, the same hue
of red as the violin in that movie.
How she wished she could play as sweetly as
it’s previous owners. Impossible!

There was only so much the public school system
could do, Mr. Peppa the music instructor told her mother.
Special training was required.
There was an extraordinary music
camp that summer, he told her the cost.

She watched her Ma lower her head in shame. Impossible.
Her fingers traced the outline of her prized gift.
Mirella sadly began to play Edelweiss repeatedly.
Each rendition better than the last. Anything is possible!

The Scarlet Letter

Sarah spread the ironed cotton t-shirt on the table. Red paint ready to
color the pencil traced calligraphy.
The crimson shade would pop on the crisp white.
The letter “B” for Bully would be the only letter, the scarlet letter.

The box was addressed to her so called best friend.
The hand written note would be her final response to her cruel words.
She ended the letter saying, wear this with pride.

The knife gleamed bright in the sunshine.
Tears streamed down her face as the cold steel cut through her alabaster wrists.
Her splattered blood signature tainted the t-shirt.

Pablo

Pablo was angry and seeing red. He finally found his son, Pepe.
He found him in the back of a funhouse caged and covered in blood…not his own.

Pablo brought his new friends to help distract the workers in the building.
There was Sparkles, the vicious calico kitty, attired in a beautiful velvet bow.
He was accompanied by the other recently released puppies as they made the distraction in front.

Molly and Maggie-(the twin wiener dogs), were doing their part by waddling wildly through the funhouse.
Pablo sent Pepe home, then went to the front to lend a helping paw.

REDGODDESS

Lola can’t believe she’s been working the swanky hotel for three years. It makes her sad to be such a natural. Lola lost her high paying job, on her 35th birthday. Instead of a tenth year celebration or an anniversary plague she found herself crying in the rear corporate parking lot. Since then, Lola has learned to treat herself to red every pay.

The first week was a lipstick, than a red toy soldier, her favorite was red gloves meant to compliment a scarf from Morocco a guest gave her. She thinks about her past, but is thankful for Red.

#####

In Lola’s world, a poor lower-class black world, making a living wage is a far-fetched dream. Living requires her to make at least 40,000 dollars a year. It just isn’t there, and when it is, there are over 300 applicants every time. “I’m so lucky to even have a job.” The globally warmed world is growing colder. Outside the fancy hotel rich people speed walk their puppies past a sleeping homeless woman. Lola fills a red bag with food and toiletries to place by the forgotten woman. Maybe Lola does have a livable wage, since she is still LIVING.

NORVAL JOE

In a small circle, their backs to each other, the company feebly slashed and stabbed at the endless flood of goblins who climbed over the bodies of their dead companions in their continued assault. Without notice the creatures scattered from the killing field.
Owen looked at his goblin-blood stained arms, black, not red and gasped, “Does this mean we won?”
“I don’t think so,” Flindert sighed.
Screaming hysterically, Spleen burst from the woods and ran toward the company.
With the booming of shattering trees a giant red demon, four times the size of the half-goblin, launched itself into the clearing.

After two months and $2,500, we moved out of the little red room at Ellen’s. The process of becoming a first-time homeowner put me in nine different addresses over the course of five months while I looked at five different homes and put bids in on two. I dealt with seven different bankers and three circles of hell watching helplessly as circumstances over which I had no control played major roles in the decision-making process as to whether or not me and my bf would have a place to live. Finally, matter resolved. Second night in our new home. Heaven.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The clouds of the morning sky glowed the same red as the drying Russian blood on Istvan’s fur. He glanced at Janos beside him. The younger man bared his teeth. They both shifted to full farkasform, loping on all fours toward the safehouse.

Janos had the speed of youth, emerging from the alley just before Istvan. Istvan heard the hiss of steam a moment too late for his friend. Silvered blades sliced into Janos’ body. Istvan skidded to a halt, just far enough forward to see the Russian steamwalker begin to stand and ready another volley.

Istvan ran.

For now.

PLANET Z

Galileo said that Mathematics is the language with which God has written the universe.

Geometry is just one of his many dialects, and some shapes are more holy to him than others.

For instance, the octagon is known as The Eye Of God, and every octagon is a window through which He watches over us all.

Yes, all of those stop signs at intersections mean that God is watching when you don’t come to a complete stop.

But not at red lights.

Those are The Eyes Of Satan, and if you listen, you can hear The Devil whisper “Floor it!”

Weekly Challenge #332 – Card

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Card.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

(I was borrowing my wife’s camera for a soft of Bruwyn this morning, synced up, and three onboard snapshots were hidden on the camera. I miss my buddy.)

THOMAS

His business card was unique. Brad, a designer, had special cards made that he would hand out to prospective clients. The cards were made for him by Altadox in Shenzhen, China. Containing circuits, the card hummed, lit up, then vibrated when exposed to light and warmed by contact with the hand. Brad would pull a card out at a meeting, and hand it to visitors, causing the meeting to stop while everyone passed the card around, examining it. The small amount of radioactive material used to power the devices leaked, and the cards had to be recalled, but too late.

Mr. Bilbo thought of himself as a real card, but his practical jokes usually caused injury, and his last trick put his own mother into traction. Underneath his benign exterior, an evil, sadistic man simmered. Terrance was angry about being born without the usual complement of man parts, so he spent time dreaming up pranks to agitate everyone he came in contact with. He had no friends and worked as a clerk in a county job. Terrance’s last gag involved gun powder and alcohol. He was setting up the gag when something went wrong, painting the garage walls with Terrance.

Nancy was crafty. She brushed her friend’s dog, carded and spun the long hair, and knitted hats for her family. Nancy discovered all the hats went missing within a few days. One afternoon, she saw her dog, Pearl, digging in the backyard. Grass and dirt flew from between her back legs, as she worked zealously at the hole in the back yard. Nancy went to investigate and found her hat at the bottom of the hole, partially covered by the loose dirt. Pearl didn’t like the whole family walking around with the smell of the other dog on their heads.

JEFFREY

It’s in the Cards
by Jeffrey Fischer

You sit in front of the woman in the crazy gypsy dress, your wife next to you, watching the elderly woman put one Tarot card on top of the other. You do not bother to hide your skepticism. The gypsy woman doesn’t seem to mind: she knows that your wife insisted you do this, and she’s seen the skeptical husband archetype before. You paid up front, and that’s all that matters to her.

The gypsy places another card on the table, on top of the Wheel of Fortune that lay there. The Fool. Certainly appropriate, you think dryly. “A zeegnifigant change eez comink,” the elderly woman says. Is her accent real or a put-on? You can’t decide. She places another card 90 degrees from the others. Temperance. I need a drink, you think. “Harmony und balance,” she says. “But opposite of that. You haff unbalance.”

Last card. You turn to your wife. “It’s Death. It’s always Death in these cheesy carnivals.” The gypsy places the last card. Not Death, but The Tower. “Hard times for you,” she says. “It eez your ruin.”

“I’ve had enough,” you say, and leave the tent. Your wife catches up with you and says nothing as you make your way to the car. Angrily, you start up the car and drive off too fast. When the child steps in front of the car you have no time to stop and the little body hits the front bumper, then the windshield. As your wife begins to scream, you wonder if the gypsy has the gift of sight after all.

MUNSI

The Card Trick

By Christopher Munroe

Pick a card, any card.

Look, then put it back into the deck.

Queen of Diamonds, right?

No?

Well, the trick only works one time in fifty-two.

Still…

When I did it to my buddy Steve, and it was the Queen of Diamonds, he basically lost his mind. Spent days trying to figure out how I did it. Eventually stopped asking me, but I suspect some part of him still wonders, even today.

And if you don’t think that was worth the dozens of times the trick failed, you don’t understand my willingness to over-commit to a bit at all.

GUARD 13007

My opponent muttered some sort of incantation, and the skies darkened. A flash of lightning, and my response appeared, a metallic beast, drawing in the rest of the lightning and using it to power up.

She was unfazed, her eyes turning blue as a blinding light shone above her. When it faded, an electric-green dragon was hovering there.

It opened its jaws, sucked in air, and belched a fireball at me. My beast jumped to protect me, but was weakened by the extreme heat.

Things were looking grim, but I could still make it if I played my cards right.

SERENDIPITY

“My card”, he said, reaching into his wallet.

“You can stuff your card where the sun don’t shine – how the hell am I supposed to get home now?”

I stared dismayed at the wreck of my car: a complete write-off, although his swish limo was barely dented.

“Please”, he said, “take it. Give my office a call and everything will be taken care of.”

He slipped the card into my hand.

“Now, please excuse me, I’ve a flight to catch”

He drove off, leaving me. I sighed, and looked at the card in my hand.

It was completely blank!

CLIFF

Thanks for calling Storyline. My name is Raj. How can I help you? Yes sir, we sell custom stories written on demand. How long of a story are you needing? One hundred words? Really? Is this one of those goofy one hundred word podcast things that everybody …oh, it is. No sir, we don’t judge, we just sell the stories. Now, what credit card will you be using? And the name on the card? I’m sorry, Chris, was that Monroe with a W or an E? Very good. And your topic? Oh, no sir. We don’t do wiener dog stories.

CALEDONA

There he is again, on his damn horse. The card is cluttered with other symbolism, but I always draw back intimidated. Way in the background a golden burst catches my eye. I lean closer. A sunrise between two towers: the end of a journey. A deep voice rumbles, “Death humbles, strips all to the bone, but is not the end. It is transformation. See the sun pass daily only to return. See seasons change in a cycle of rebirth. Old leaves must wither and fly away from a tree’s branches, leaving them bare, before new green leaves can appear.” Cool.

TOM

“Grandma why do they all a funny guy a Card?” She sets her High Ball on the coaster and in broken English say, “There was this dealer in Las Vegas in the last 40’s could rifle a deck between his ear and shoulder. Every time Bugsy Siegel sees it he breaks up laughn. Well Bugsy gets popped and next thing yas know everyone the guy even smiled at starts getting wacked. Final one day they find the dealer in a 55 gallon drum in the desert a big old smile painted on his face. Let play some rummie, timmy. Deal

Throw Down

If I play my Ice Demon, he’ll counter with his Red Dragon card. If I play Cloak of Midnight he’ll throw down Night Vision. Eagle Talon will get Rythian Shield, Terra Force Army will face Spectre Wail. My Ninja Fighter is powered down for the next three turns, and my Crystal Wizard is no match for his Sorceress. Tar Slime will force an agility toss but he’s been doing too well with those and I do not like my chances. I think I’ll just tell everyone he still wets the bed and win when he runs crying from the room.

ZACKMANN

I go to this place and ask a woman if she could help me remember this
book about this kid who thinks he is playing a game and he finds out
the only way to win is to bend the rules. He later finds out he was
really leading an army not playing a game. She says “Card”. I take a
card out my wallet. She says “No, I mean look under Orson Scott Card.
He is the author. Book is Enders Game or better yet the First Meetings
edition but you will need your library card to borrow it.“

BROKALI

She opened the card and stared at it for most of the afternoon. She knew the next time she saw his name it would be this way. There it was in beautiful calligraphy his wedding invitation. “We’ve finally found the love of a lifetime.” She laughed as she resealed her roommates mail, this was why she told her to never sever ties with him. This way she would know when the man that shattered her heart in a million pieces was ready to move onward. She pulled her pistol from her purse and also moved onward after pulling the trigger.

LZZIE

A line of people, each with a card, waited patiently. Some cards said “Odd Person”; others said “Funny Person”.

“Odd people to the back,” someone yelled.

The line disarticulated itself in disarray until all the “odd people” were standing at the back. When the train arrived, one of the “odd people” raised his arm.

“Funny people are odd,” he said. “Sometimes you simply cannot understand them.” A wave of protests came from the front of the line.

The supervisor told him to shut up. He did. After all, odd people are odd people and funny people are funny people. Right?

BOTGIRL

John opened the panel in the back of her head and inserted the card into the open slot. The body was a perfect replica of Jane in her prime, before the accident broke her too badly for even medicine’s modern miracles to repair.

Jane had resisted getting scanned and backed up, no matter how many times John had nagged her. “We’ve got plenty of time,” she’d say. Now, the results of an experimental post-mortem brain scan were anything but certain.

Activating the start-up process, John waited to see if his beloved wife would boot up from the dead.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Crap,
Our 100 challenge word offering based on the word card. Collaborative write with Severina Halostar and Bonchance Longfall:

Card…

The lunatic was subdued and bound
All but one of the parachutes were destroyed.
The engine sputtered. They weren’t going to make it.
10 crew, one parachute. They decided to try two on one chute but who?
Everyone picked a card, highest cards get the chute.

Tom held the cards as everyone took a card, each person held theirs up.
the two female crew members were showing a jack and a nine.
Only one other crewman displayed a card, a deuce.

Tom cupped and palmed his ace.
He looked at the two female colleagues saying, let’s get you strapped in.

Some say, “Living in a house of Cards” is a bad thing.

Ever imagined all the great floor plan combinations you could create?
You could build regal formal rooms and pretend you are royalty or erect
a cozy den for when you want to kick back and swig a cold coors light.

So how do you deal with your home constantly cascading into a pile of cards?
Chill out! There’s more than meets the eye in a carded configuration.

With real estate taking a big dump, why invest heavily into bricks and mortar.
Plasticized paper is the way to go!

That Jim Casey was a card!
Jim was a cheerful guy who loved to pull peoples’ legs.

He always had a smile on his face, no matter how bad things were.
Even locked up behind bars and constantly being thrown stern looks by the men in blue.
He still grinned broadly like it was his birthday.

Jim’s house was being dismantled. The search for evidence proceeded.
They wanted to nail this sicko. The sheriff, looking revolted, spoke to the sea of news cameras.

“I can’t get the sight of that hidden room’s trophy wall of legs out of my mind!”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The security guard scowled, face hard as the steel door behind him. “ID, miss. You need to show it at all times.”

I sighed, digging in my pockets.

“…don’t need no stinking badges…” I muttered, finally withdrawing the plasticized card from my cargo pockets.

The guard looked it over. “You sure about this?”

“You know how many of these guys think ‘boob inspector’ is funny?”

As the guard smiled and opened the door to the annual frat convention, I unrolled my tape measure, adjusted my “junk inspector” badge, and anticipated making a lot of egos experience a lot of shrinkage.

NORVAL JOE

Elbownor shot his last arrow and pulled his long slender sword from its scabbard.
Shareeka’s magical blasts were visibly weaker with each wave.
Flinderts chest and face were spattered with goblin blood. He laughed as he swung his double-edged axe back and forth disembowling multiple goblins with each swipe.
“You look to be tiring, Dwarf. Do you you need Owen’s help?” Traveler teased.
“Ye be a veritable card, Ranger. Keep yer sense of humor. Ye’ll need it when that next wave gets here,” Flindert said.
Owen gulped when he looked over his shoulder and saw the goblins mounting another attack.

DANNY DWYER

“You really suck when your in a bad mood, just deal the cards!” Mark screamed at the top of his lungs. I just sat there motionless, first card of the deck in my right hand, refusing to move, refusing to deal the next hand of 5 card stud poker. “Your lucky I don’t defriend your sorry Republican ass on Facebook. You might be a complete, utter douchebag who loves yelling at empty chairs, but your no Clint Eastwood,” I responded. “Oh, I’m so going to kick your liberal ass, DEAL!” I just dealt the hand, never saying the cards were marked.

ARRI

Riktor couldn’t fathom being duped into this colossal time waste visiting the seer. It was ludicrous to think this would help. Life blew and that was that. The bloody invasion had taken his work, town, wife, and all else that mattered in life. All that remained was loss and anger. And this quack oracle across the table.
“So turn the card.” barked Riktor.
The oracle didn’t immediately. “Your view, is very short, see little. Maybe raise eyes, look farther no?
As the card rotated; the view wiped to become another reality. Lushly opposed to his former life. Completely alone too.

RED

The rainstorm hits the coast harder than locals expected. Rain or shine Lola has to work. At the hotel, the wind slaps the front gate open, dragging debris in from the main street. A queen of heart card flies in and lands on Lola’s desk. She looks up and notices the light for the “no vacancy” sign is flickering. Lola wishes she had taken a personal day off to spend time with the mystery guy. She’s reluctant to open her heart and deal with another disappointment. She could still hear his last word while saying good night, “you intrigue me.”

PLANET Z

My grandmother turns ninety-seven tomorrow.

I didn’t send her a card this year.

Or the past six years.

(Or was it seven?)

Anyway, she’s ninety-seven, and at every birthday dinner, she always asks who’s birthday it is.

“It’s yours,” my parents tell her.

“Oh,” she says. “And how old am I?”

“Ninety-seven.”

“Oh,” says my grandmother. Then, slowly: “Ohhhhhhh.”

They give her the cards to read.

And they get to mine.

“It’s perfect,” my grandmother says.

They told me she said that seven years ago.

So, I said “Keep giving her that card each year then.”

It’s still perfect.

Weekly Challenge #331 – Pick Two

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was a PICK TWO.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

SERENDIPITY

I protested that I wasn’t hungry, but he insisted… and you know how disarming he can be.

“Alright, just a small one”

“No”, he interjected, “pick two. I insist!”

I sighed: “OK. I’ll have two of those wiener dogs, but please, no mustard.”

Big mistake!

As the day wore on, I could feel them executing aerobatic maneouvres and yapping madly inside my stomach… a metabolic assault that would have put Strike Team Alpha to shame.

Then… the inevitable: What went down, swiftly made its way back up.

Oddly, the mess at my feet looked more appetising than the original offering!

THOMAS

Walking was difficult. The arthritis in his knees was painful. His farm home was built on rough and uneven acreage. He’d hobble down to the mailbox to get mail, then hobble over to the chickens to gather the eggs. Poor Ted. He was once a champion tap dancer, and now he was reduced to dragging his aching legs around like two, useless, crooked sticks. He had heard of some home remedies, so he tried wrapping his knees with duct tape, or rubbing them every night with WD-40, but it didn’t work. Ted finally gave into rotational field quantum magnetic resonance.

Willard’s church wasn’t the only church that believed it a sin to use conundrums. His church said he should abstain, rather than use them. The one that got him in the most trouble, and caused him to be asked to immediately resign as senior Elder, was the day he stood in front of the congregation and asked, “What do you do when you see an endangered animal eating an endangered plant?” Preceding the most excruciating question, were the questions he put to the other elders: “Why am I running for President, and What was the best thing before sliced bread?”

The 2012 Metabolic Award was given to Teddy Tedesco of Milpitas, California, for having the highest metabolism in the local health and sports club. Teddy’s was so high, he would have to ingest 20,000 calories a day in order to maintain his weight. It cost him a fourth of his wages each week for food, and because he ate at home, his wife was exhausted, as she seemed to be at the stove for hours every day. Teddy could eat a whole cheese cake, and not gain an ounce. His friends hated him, and his wife hated him even more.

TOM

He moved cross the desert. The remnants of a clerical collar stapled to a fade black shirt. Long ago he had abandoned the remainder of trappings of his faith. Sun, bandits, and Federales had driven the man insane. The only thing that keep his feet moving was the vow. The fall from grace was in ever face he encountered, a constant reminder of the promise to Bishop Le Coeur. “What do you do when the heart is so wounded that love can find no place to take hold” mused the broken priest. The mission was simple: find the Lost Sin.

JEFFREY

Harriet walked with great purpose – or so it seemed to anyone who saw the elderly lady. Truth be told, she had forgotten why she left her room. This had been happening with increasing frequency, and it frightened her. She could recall with clarity high school friends, and elementary school projects she helped her children make, a trip to Edinburgh with her husband in the 1960s, before he became so sick. Now she couldn’t remember where she was going. If she kept walking, Harriet reasoned, both her surroundings and her purpose would once again be clear.

When her legs tired, she sat on a nearby bench. Perhaps a short rest would help jog her memory. In time, she dozed. The sun moved lower in the sky.

Time passed, and the woman, still half asleep, realized she was very cold. She felt a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. A stranger looked at her with concern. “Mom? What are you doing out here? Let’s get you home.”

LIZZIE

The Lost Award Goes to…

“We have to pay to sail aimlessly?” asked one of the crew members astonished about the unusual contest.

“Yep. Easy,” replied the skipper.

“But…”

It was decided.

They roamed in high waters for days and days up to when food and water became scarce. Then they returned, eager to know who had won. The pier was empty, except for the fluttering envelope:

“Award

To the Sea Pirate.

May you return safely.”

The skipper looked at his crew. There was no sign of the promised prize money though.

“It’s time,” he said, pulling out his automatic. Guess who was lost now!

MUNSI

I lost the award.

Sorry, that was unclear. I realized upon saying it that I could have phrased it better. I’ll try again.

I didn’t win the award.

This should be no surprise, as I wasn’t nominated for the award, or indeed any award. I’m only present at this award show to present the award to whoever happened to win the award at this award show.

That was awkward. Sorry, I’m nervous.

Anyway, a bunch of the award presenters went drinking last night, and we brought the awards. Jagermeister was involved, and…

Erm…

Help me break it to Johnny Depp?

JOE

Title: Day of the Wiener Dogs

After Armageddon, mankind was gone and the wiener dogs were set loose to conquer the Earth. In the first hundred years, they spread slowly throughout Europe moving eastward. Using wiener pontoon boats they crossed into Turkey and onto Asia, then Africa. To cross snow covered mountains they tied wooden spoons to their tiny paws, as snow shoes, leaving only a trail of tiny paw prints until they reached the Great Wall of China. However, springing from stone to stone they easily breached that obstacle to dominate the Eastern Hemisphere. Finally, using wiener blip technology, they slowly drifted towards unsuspecting America.

ZACKMANN

Yes, I have a butler. I got him from a kickstarter project.
I inherited some money from money from Professor Utonium which I
totally wasn’t expecting since all I ever did for him was walk his
arthritic Dachshund and reported a paw print the day it was lost. The
Weiner dog was stuck under a porch but saved due to a slow metabolic
rate. My conundrum is it a sin to award someone a task you know they
dislike because
now the butler is updating my computer and for the next week, Devo
Spice is so My Personal IT guy.

CLIFF

There should have been a sign or a crossroads. There should have been something other than this thin dirt track I’d been following for uncountable days. Every step took me farther away from where I’d been, who I’d been. Details dropped away with the miles. Names of friends, lovers. Faces. My childhood. Even how I’d ended up on this path in the first place. All gone now. All that was left was weeds to either side, a thin ribbon of road leading forward, and the next step. Oh, and that thing that followed, howling, reminding me of all my sins.

TURA

His morning walk always took him through the Meyerplatz, whose modern red brick and concrete architecture continued to annoy him, although, he knew, he had no justification for this response, for it had stood thus ever since the postwar rebuilding, and he had no more than the memory of a young child’s memory that it had once looked different, and even that was long after its heyday at the turn of the century, which he surely knew of only from the faded sepia photographs that had belonged to his parents, now transformed by long familiarity into something indistinguishable from memories.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

The twin wiener dogs, Molly and Maggie introduced themselves to Pablo as he made the rounds of the neighbourhood. He walked thru the streets in search of new friends, as his Espy suggested.

He was having a grand time with a cute little poodle named Bubbles, until her father, an over protective boxer shooed her into the backyard as he glared at Pablo.

Ahead he saw the wicked calico with another colorful bow walking his way. Pablo crossed the street.

Pablo bragged about new friends. Espi was not pleased. She planned to tighten the leash on her wandering loose springer.

#######

The next story uses sin and conundrum:
Hail to the King, baby!

Lucifer had been working on a dilemma. The logic was indisputable.

His conundrum kept him from directing the other angels in their affairs as he sought the answer.
He was a leader not a follower and didn’t ask advice, he gave it.

God told him he lived in pride, which was a sin.
The Arch Angel Michael tried to warn him that if he chose to go the path he set himself on he would be forever lost.

There can be only one, said Michael.

Lucifer stood saying, “Hail to the King baby!”
Then departed heaven to become a King.

BOTGIRL

Good evening succubi, incubi, goblins, imps, corporate lawyers and radical fundamentalists. Welcome to the 6000th annual Demon’s Choice Awards! We’re coming to you straight from hell, live and undead from the Judas Iscariot Auditorium, Torture Spa and Coffee Bar.

Tonight we’ll recognize the outstanding performer in Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. Each deadly sinner will receive a solid gold statue which will be melted down for an excruciating molten metal enema and refreshing Brazilian wax.

We’ll also honor our living sinner of the year, Todd Akin, for popularizing the devilishly clever concept of legitimate rape. Stay tuned!

REDGODDESS

“Paper or plastic,” asks the grocery cashier, rolling her eyes at Lola. It sounds so simple, right. Choose one kind of bag for her frozen dinner. Lola is preoccupied digging through her over-sized work bag to make sure she had enough to pay. Her next door neighbor, the retired Social Worker was in line with her grandsons. She’s usually pretty chatty but today, she too, seems a little beaten down. The kids pick two candy bars from the front shelf. As Lola grabs the paper bag to leave, she notices a folded paper on the ground. It reads, “think less”

NORVAL JOE

“Take this sword, Owen,” Traveler said, dragging out his long sword. “Stand at my back and swing it in circles. It will keep the goblins away and you might even kill a few.”
The fiends hooted and screamed as they oozed from the surrounding woods.
“There are too many,” Owen screamed.
“I’ve seen more, and I haven’t lost my life yet,” Findert Laughed, swinging his great axe, stretching his shoulders. “Aye, but the arthritis makes me shoulders stiff.”
Elbowner’s bow thrummed musically with each shot.
Shareeka blasted out waves of magical energy.
But, Spleen alone was missing from the company.

Housing appraisers, your sin is sloth. I know you feel like you are getting everyone on the schedule and accommodating us as quickly as you can, but from my perspective as home buyer, your dithering has added two months to the otherwise relatively straightforward transaction of buying a house. I think you should have to be homeless for awhile with all your stuff in storage except for whatever you can fit in the back of a rental car for however long you think any civilized human being should have to live like that. And then … TAKE LESS TIME THAN THAT!

PLANET Z

One of the great things about preseason football games is that you get to watch players giving it their all to make the team.

Of course, there’s always veterans you’ll never replace, no matter how good you are.

A punter with a long-term contract, for instance.

That’s when you call your classmate on the other team on special teams coverage.

“Break the fucker’s leg,” you say. “I’ll split my contract with you.”

And sure enough, the veteran’s out for the season, your buddy gets suspended, and you make the team.

Welcome to professional football…

Until some fucker breaks your leg.

Weekly Challenge #330 – Sparkle

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Sparkle.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

SERENDIPITY

He was a product of the Sixties’ baby boom – had his parent’s any inkling of the life ahead of him, perhaps they’d have stuck with plain William, or Jack.

Sparkle Moonshine Taylor: Guilty of first degree murder on fifteen separate counts. Over ten years, his trademark ‘calling card’ – a sparkler, speared between his victims’ eyes had become a chilling reminder that no-one was safe in their beds.

Now, caught, arrested, tried and incarcerated, he ignored the offer of a priest and wolfed down the remains of his last meal.

The guard appeared: “Hey Sparkle… ready to meet Old Sparky?”

THOMAS

Sparkle Josh was an interior designer from Tennessee. His long, blond hair made the other designers envious. He wore leather pants, a thin, silk blouse and carried a silver hand bag with a gold buckle. He had mad decorating skills, and could put together an empty room in Southern Garish or Hollywood Tacky in hours. The film crew assumed Sparkle was a girly-man, but we were wrong, when one of the camera men made a crack about Sparkle’s sexual habits, and Sparkle dropped him like a lead balloon, furnishing a well-aimed kick with the silver point of his cowboy boot.

Her eyes Sparkled, but the ophthalmologist found peculiarities. Deedee had cataract removal surgery, followed by lens implants. When her blue eyes were seen from an angle, the light reflected off the implants, creating the effect. Of course, Deedee used this to her advantage when clubbing . Her eyes could get her out of speeding tickets, and cajole head waiters to give her a good table by the window. Deedee used a minimum of eye makeup, and avoided any makeup techniques that made her look like a tropical fish or the smokey-eye look, so popular with cross-dressers and young, Hollywood starlets.

#
Sparkle Plenty was a professional cleaner, working for the well-to-do folks that lived on Bell Hill in town. She could clean a heavy, crystal chandelier without taking it down, and she would never break anything, including anything in Mr. Poppinjohn’s collection of casts of rock star outgrowths. Poppinjohn’s collection was purchased en masse from San Francisco’s famous duet, Cynthia Plaster Caster and her sister. Sparkle’s last cleaning job was the chandelier in Nina Piccololini’s summer house. Sparkle put on her cotton gloves and started the final polish of the bottom crystals of the two-ton Maria Theresa Gold, when it fell.

The drink had qualities unlike any beverage currently on the market. It combined a number of vitamins, stimulants, rare jungle herbs, leaves, barks and fruits into a sparkling, bright, green concoction that promised hours of heightened awareness, night vision, hyperactive olfactory acuity, and texting skills. At three bucks a can, teens bought two or three at morning recess. Those that couldn’t afford it, shoplifted the new drink at Safeway. The manufacturer was an Russian Company, and the FDA closed it down after a 12 year old girl in Texas chugged two, 24-ounce cans and died quickly of a cardiac arrhythmia.

Her personality was scintillating, radiant. It sparkled. She entered the room. The group felt an electric discharge and a quickening in their flanks. The sudden rampage of coruscation left every male in the room breathing heavily, and trembling. She sauntered over to the large spread of food, took a bit, and turned slightly, looking over her shoulder, casting her eyes down for a moment before taking another small bite of the tasty beef. She moved to the window to stare out at the lawn, and one of the younger males moved to her side. He sniffed her behind, and barked.

All that sparkles is not gold. Lamont learned this early in life in spite of being “a little slow”. For Lamont to learn a trade was important to his parents. Lamont had to be able to fend for himself as an adult, so his father taught him the jewelry business when Lamont was a youngster. His dad told him that all that glitters is not gold, but Lamont couldn’t remember the exact words, as hard as he tried, but he did learn the jewelry business, the code used on price tags, and how to mark everything up by 300 percent.

TOM

I am a honorary member of the Radical Faeries. A friend was running a wombat ritual at Northern California’s premier pagan festival and 10 minutes before the start she had lost her shill. 600 people had come to join in the fun of Pagan Eye for the Straight Guy, but the hotel help had bailed. There were plenty of straight pagans in attendance, but the joke works best if the makeover subject is deeply mundane. Being a loyal Camp Follower I volunteered. Rainbow wig, eyelashes, nail polish, and sarong. I douse the crowd with faeries dust.
I’m Tangerine Sparkle Good-n-plenty

JEFFREY

Steven’s teeth sparkled in the moonlight, a testiment to the finest dental treatment money could buy. He was tall and handsome, with the looks of a matinee idol, with one exception. His agent explained Steve’s dreams of movie stardom hinged on fixing his crooked, yellow tetth. Two paintful years later, the finished product dazzled in the alley behind the bar. He wondered if the time and money were well spent.

Then the punch came, shattering his mouth and leaving shards of sparkling teeth scattered on the ground.

STEVEN

She remembers the glitter of his eyes when they first made love.

She remembers when it disappeared, when there was just the reflection of the television or wall.

She remembers the distortion from her tears when he said he wanted to see other people. How she couldn’t see or catch his averted gaze.

She remembers The Night, but tries not to. Tries not to remember the lifelight fading as the infected bite took his body.

She fiddles with the brush, then applies more shellac to the orbs. His corpse strains against the ropes.

She remembers. She’ll get it right eventually.

MUNSI

I’ve made a bet with a demon. We’ll be playing the fiddle shortly.

I admit, this isn’t the best idea I’ve had. Nonetheless, it’s how I’ll be spending my day.

Should I beat this demon, I’ll receive a fiddle made of gold. Pure, sparkling gold. Gold of the finest quality, it’s a beautiful instrument.

Should I lose, the demon gets a fiddle made of gold from me, which I won in a bet with a previous demon, a few years ago.

We’d plaid Magic: The Gathering for that bet.

I’m very good at Magic: The Gathering.

Fiddle? Not so much.

LILITH

Lilith tells Clifford that he needed a new name something cool like
Ford Prefect but says him more like Arthur Dent than Ford Prefect.
You mean like Two-Face asks Clifford.
No, that is Harvey Dent replies Lilith
The guy who wrote Doc Savage?
No, that was Lester Dent.
Clifford for being on a geek podcast you have a lot of trouble
differentiating the Dents.
Chris comes in and says I am test driving a Ford Fusion Hybrid and it
is so shiny. Why don’t you guys come out and see how my Ford
Sparkles.
Lilith declares I found your name

LIZZIE

“Sometimes it sparkles, sometimes it glows,” the magician said, looking distracted.

“What is it?”

“An orb.”

“Does it kill?” asked the kid with a strange smile on his face.

“Of course not!”

The kid frowned.

“It’s useless then.”

“Look, go read that book of spells,” said the magician hoping the fat volume would keep the kid busy.

But the kid didn’t even look at the book. Instead, a loud thump was heard.

“I knew it could kill!”

Later, it was extremely difficult to distinguish what was the orb and what was the head of the magician. Conclusion, a sparkly mess.

CRYPTEX

The lecture hall quickly filled up with students studying Introductory Philosophy.
“Any questions before we begin?” The teacher asked.
One hand rose timidly.
“What is the difference between sparkle and glitter?”
The teacher looked at the student and replied, “You Mr Taylor have never been the best ranked in class but are still favoured over others, why?”
When the student did not answer; the teacher spoke, “You never scored above average due to your laziness but the one time that you did study, you scored the highest in the history of that test. That my friend is sparkling.”

EXIA00

” ‘Poorest of the poor’, that’s what people call them”, I told my assistant. I was at a very subdued locality of my country where people always live oppressed and in the fear of ‘ the oppressors ‘. It was the 65th independence day for this country but ironically, even these 65 years couldn’t get these people their real independence.

While walking, I saw some children flying kites. There was a sparkle in their eyes which grew as their kites soared ever high. I asked one of them ” Do you also dream of soaring great heights?”. Suddenly the sparkle was lost within him and he ran away.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Sparkle

Mirella recalled the quote from Kubler Ross as she freshened the body of the Yugoslavian beauty queen, nicknamed “Bright Eyes”.
“People are like stained-glass windows.
They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.”
The novice nurse was thankful she had a peaceful death.

Mirella felt inner peace knowing she was with the beauty queen as she took her last breath at 313am.
The kind nurse believed that everyone should have their hand held as they travel to their new home.

Pablo, (the black and white springer spaniel), returns. :)

Sparkles

Sparkles was an overly spoiled cat. The large obese calico was also the terror of Espy’s neighborhood.
Everyday Sparkle’s loving owner would send him off to play sporting a new ribbon tied into a beautiful bow around his neck.
Today’s colour was bright pink.

Espy told Pablo that he needed to socialize more and stop worrying about his misfit son, Pepe.
Espy forgot to mention Sparkles. On first site, Pablo was positive he found a new best friend.

Pablo hadn’t seen a cat that vicious, since the time he tried to sneak a steak out of the Circus lion’s cage.

UNCLE MONSTER

“All that sparkles is not gold,” she said.
“Baby, I think the saying is all that glitters is not gold.”
“Really? What sparkles?”
“Diamonds, I guess.”
“Wow. We’ve been dating for three years now and I never knew you knew so much about gold and diamonds.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“So, what have you got planned for Valentine’s Day?”
“It’s a secret. I will say that it involves something that sparkles.”
She gasped and kissed me. I couldn’t wait to see her face when I took her for a day at the paintball field with her new Diamond 3000 paintball marker.

TURA

“Waiting for Twilight Sparkle”, a play in one act by Tura Brezoianu.

A country road. A tree. Two bedraggled old ponies. One used to be blue.

Turquoise (the blue one): Sunbeam.

Sunbeam (the other one): What?

T: Why Sunbeam? I’m Turquoise, because I am, but you…

S: Call that turquoise? In the nineties, though, remember? We were respectable in those days. Now it’s too late.

T: But when Twilight Sparkle comes…

S: Will she come?

T: She sent word…

(Long pause.)

T: (getting up) Let’s go.

S: We can’t.

T: Why not?

S: We’re waiting for Twilight Sparkle.

(T sits down.)

(Long pause.)

S: Let’s go.

T: Let’s.

(They do not move.)

BOTGIRL

“Where in sweet God’s name are we?”
the starlet drawled, wide-eyed in wonder
at the strobing lights and heart-pounding bass.

“God has many mansions my dear ,”
Groucho quipped with a rogue smirk
on his lips and a pirate sparkle in his eye.
“This one is called a rave”

“Is this a movie set?” she guessed,
the only explanation she could
come up with for being somehow
transported to the St. Vitus’
dance raging around her.

“What’s my line?” Groucho asked,
looking deeply into her dilated eyes.

“Actor, silly,” she said.

“Close, but no cigar”, he replied.

“Time traveler.”

CALEDONIA

Damn it! I know I have seen it. It must be in my inventory somewhere! “Jewelry and Accessories.” No. “Prop & Sets from Stories.” No. Hey! Maybe “Specialty Emitters?” No, no, NO! Looking dully around in the corporeal world, nothing glitters to mind. Shiny things, bright things, even things that glow. Not the thing I am looking for. Where is it? Then I remember it: the beloved furry friend, the look in my nephew’s four year-old eyes when he greets me, the deep and joy-filled laughter shared with dear friends. True “Sparkle.” No bling assist needed. Found it!

NORVAL JOE

Owen pinched his nose and whispered to the ranger, “Do we really need Spleen guiding us through the forest? At least if he’s at the back we don’t have to smell him.”
“Spleen was added to our company for a reason. As a half-goblin he can tell when other fiend type creatures are around,” Traveler said.
Owen was surprised to hear the dwarf speak.
“And there be a reason why these be called the goblin woods.” Gems sparkled on the handle of Finder’s battle axe as he pulled it from his belt. “Look boy. Our goblin friend senses something already.”

DANNY

“I just looked at him and said. ‘I’m a pony!” Sparkle screamed, her fiery red ponytails bouncing with her every move as she walked down the street with Cookie and Bubbles, who were laughing at the top of their lungs. The three often meet up for early morning breakfast at the local diner after Sparkle gets done working the poll at the local strip club. Sitting down at their usual place at the counter, the cook, Julio, asks Sparkle, “The usual?” “Nah, just give me a Fruit Loops sandwich, hold the egg.” Julio rolls his eyes, then prepares the order.

REDGODDESS

After coping with many personal losses in recent years, Lola no longer believes that time always heals. Although she is grateful to be among the living, she senses she’s coming undone. Lola is disturbed that many missed out on living fully while alive. She hopes her funeral will not begin with “we are here to honor and celebrate the life of a beautiful young woman gone too soon.” Before she could shake off these morbid thoughts, a pregnant woman is in front of her screaming, “call 911 now, I’m in labor!” She can still forge a living legacy that will sparkle.

PLANET Z

Stars twinkle, shimmer, glow, and sparkle.

It has to do with the atmosphere or something.

What stars don’t do is blink, so that’s the running light from an airplane or a helicopter.

Don’t worry about it, though. We’re safe in these bushes, and there’s no way they can find us.

Not even if they’re using heat-sensitive goggles.

We don’t give off heat.

Just keep crouched down under your cape, stay still, and they’ll pass by.

Then we’ll be able to go hunt for food.

That camp down by the river will have plenty.

Keep your fangs sharp, and follow me.

Weekly Challenge #329 – Nothing

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Nothing.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

THOMAS

Nothing was as sweet as the peach they served with a dollop of real whipped cream. I savored it, taking small bites and holding it in my mouth for a long time, tasting the best peach I’ve ever eaten. When I was finished, I fired up the computer, and started writing some crap for 100 word stories. I was interrupted by a priest, the warden, and two guards. “Tom.. it’s time. We want to accompany you.” Funny, the priest was just as curious to see the warden’s new car as I was, but I had to wash and wax it.

Nothing was evident or easily measurable when they explored the Higgs boson. There were no particles or measurable matter detected. The bosun straddled the line between existence and nothingness, echoing the relationship with my first wife. The force that holds matter together is invisible, and subject to only the forces that come into play by basic observation. Again, similar to the relationship I had with my first wife. I used this valuable information to avoid any further exploration into the institution of matrimony to the point of ignoring the fervent emails from twenty-five year old, buxom virgins from East Africa.

“Nothing doing, mister. Certainly not. No way, Jose, uh-uh, nope, sorry. I’m not going to put that thing to my lips.” She resisted until I convinced her it was the only way she was going to learn how to play the sousaphone. She was tiny, and only just strong enough to heave the big instrument onto her bony shoulder. The sousaphone was the last instrument available for prospective band members, and Nancy had to fill her requisite number of volunteer and school activities in order to even be considered for the private university that her parents dreamed of her attending.

She whispered sweet nothings in my ear, breathing heavily, but faking that as well. One hand on my waist, and the other, reaching around to my hip in order to slip a couple of fingers into my pocket, and extract my wallet. I always carried a fake wallet when I drank in Tijuana. I filled it with Monopoly money and a note, written in English and Spanish that read: “If you try a reach-around with me, you will be disappointed.” Something like: “Si usted intenta un alcance – alrededor conmigo, usted estará decepcionado.” – my Spanish, written and spoken is rusty.

CALEDONIA

“A sultry voice, edged with ferocity brought Oedipus to a grinding halt. No! This was Thebes all over again – not another Sphinx! “Answer my riddle correctly, you enter the Acropolis. Answer incorrectly, you perish.” Oedipus kicked the dust, “Get on with it then” “Right! Insolence, Indignation, Regret: these mark a woman’s progress united by one word.” Oedipus kicked more dust. His mind saw his teenage daughter, eyes rolling and arms folded. It saw his wife, silent and frowning. Finally, his old maiden aunt sighing sadly. “Nothing” he replied to the stone. “Fine!” it replied, and gestured towards the open entrance.”

JEFFREY

A Deal with the Devil
by Jeffrey Fischer

Adam had somehow found himself in a race with Satan. Long story short, he answered Satan’s ad. If he won, he’d receive untold riches. Lose, and Satan got his soul. You know, the usual bet. His friends pointed out that Satan hated to lose, and oh, by the way, this was *Satan*, but Adam had a big ego and, to be fair, had consumed a six-pack at that point.

On the day of the race, spectators lined the course. Satan looked out of shape, and Adam opened a good lead. The finish line was in sight.

“Ha! Nothing can stop me now!”

He heard a loud crack and the skies opened. Literally. In an instant, a chasm appeared before him, swallowing the race course, the finish line, and the spectators. The chasm widened and engulfed everything in Adam’s field of vision. As Adam fell into the void, he felt Satan pluck his soul from his body.

TURA

Ever wonder why there’s something rather than nothing? Better not. Your brain will go funny if you find the answer. So don’t think about nothing! No, you’re probably safe, if you don’t know anything about quantum mechanics or Tegmark multiverses. It’s only when you really grok the mathematics of it that your brain crashes.

Hawking, I reckon he stumbled on a piece of it early, put him in a wheelchair and I don’t know how he goes on, thinking about physics all day and NOT thinking about– about– DON’T THINK ABOUT–

Sorry. They’re coming to give me my pills now.

LIZZIE

The world would end if he didn’t reach his destiny, they said. So he ran. He bore the saving truth as a flag to his chest over hills and mountains, through creeks and rivers. His path was difficult, but he didn’t give up, he ran. When he arrived, the world hadn’t ended yet, so he assumed he was in time to save it. He was wrong. He had brought the wrong truth. He would be the first to die, they said. “Doesn’t the effort count,” he asked. The answer was a slashing sound, his head, a ball on the floor.

SERENDIPITY

An odd thing, this ‘nothing’: You can’t see it, smell, it taste it or feel it, yet you know, without a shadow of doubt when it’s there:

“What do you see?”… “Nothing!”

“What’s in the box?”… “Oh, nothing.”

“And what did you get up to last night?”… “Nothing at all!”

Scientists say that both the infinite universe and the atoms that lie at the heart of everything are mostly… nothing.

It has no form, colour or essential qualities, yet it fills our lives, time and activities; it can be good bad, ugly or completely indifferent.

This ‘nothing’ sure is something!

TOM

Nothin’ from nothin’ leaves nothin’ You gotta have somethin’ If you wanna be with me. Yes he was a soldier in the war on poverty. He was Sgt. Pepper. The only session man to be credited on a Beatle’s album. He plaedy with the Stones, Clapton and Ray Charles. The man was a lyric factory. He told us “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one your with.” Billy Preston had a 10,000 watt smile and the riffs he laid down on this electric organ were worth of P-Funk. Not bad for a kid from Houston.

SHRUTI

She looked at the frayed makeshift curtains and worn out couch. They had tried to make it look pretty but it wasn’t her dream house yet. She loved being in control but today it felt like it was slipping away.

“Honey what’s wrong?”

They had talked about starting a family but now wasn’t the right time. She had hoped the doctor would tell her it was a false alarm, instead she had listened to the doctor tell her the choices they had.

He had enough worries.

“Nothing babe, It’s just been a tiring day.” She said as she held him.

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

“Nothing”

Lesson learned in life:
Nothing comes from nothing. How do you become something?
Naught multiplied by naught gives you nothing.

We are taught to “make something of ourselves”, otherwise we are nothing.
The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I am nothing without you, proclaimed a lover, but what was the lover before?
If you have integrity, nothing else matters. Oh really?
Ma always said “too much of something is good for nothing”.
How do you know when too much turns into nothing?
Does something give it away?

When will it end?!? We are haunted by nothing!

“Nothing”

Mary heard sounds coming from the kitchen. Johnny! What are you doing in there?

Nothing Ma!

She ran to the kitchen too late. Her cherished serving plate, handed down to her from her Mother,
crashed to the floor shattering into thousands of little pieces.
She didn’t believe Johnny was doing “nothing”, just was never quick enough to intervene before disaster.
They had long talks that day about him getting into things. She could only hope.

During dinner, Johnny sat quietly at the table staring down at his plate.
Johnny, what are you thinking about?

Nothing Ma!

Sadly, she believed him.

MUNSI

Hello, my name’s Heinrich and this is Klaus. We’d like, if we may, to discuss nothing with you, because whatever you might believe in, rest assured, nothing is nearer and dearer to our hearts.

When you’re at your lowest ebb, and everything seems darkest, nothing can help you.

Where you think you’ve lost hope, nothing can save you!

Nothing matters, my friend. Nothing matters.

What? We can’t come in?

You haven’t time? We understand, though nothing is more important than what you’re doing right now.

Still: May we leave you with a copy of the book Nausea, by Jean-Paul Sartre?

ZACKMANN

Nothing to do.
Wish I had an extra battery for my smartphone.
Maybe I could have brought a charger but where would I have plugged it in.
I brought a book but did not get enough sleep before coming to
concentrate that much.
Never guessed my battery would not outlast time I had before being
required to turn phone off.
I was surprised to find lite traffic and find a parking space.
I knew I would have to turn off my phone.
Why didn’t I think to bring my watch.
Time to go upstairs.
The judge is summoning potential jurors.

GUARD 13007

“Everybody ready?” the room’s controller asked. I looked around, everyone was buckled in, silent. A few held those little bags you get in case you throw up, a few had death grips on their harnesses. “Room B is go.” he said into the headset he was wearing, and strapped himself back in.

There were no windows, no speaker, but I could hear the countdown, see the launch. The room started rumbling and shaking. I thought of the fuel sitting beneath us. And suddenly, we were moving, faster and faster.

When we got into space, there was nothing left of home.

BOTGIRL

Myth and religion served God for thousands of years until that smart ass Roger Bacon doomed the world with the experimental process. The bible was right. God created the universe. But with smoke and mirrors. It only worked because people believed. God had to constantly scramble to come up with a plausible explanation every time some nosy scientist peered a little deeper into the universe: Atoms . . . Neutrons. . . Higgs Bosons . . . all were improvisations to avert oblivion. Unfortunately, humans eventually woke up to the nothingness hiding under the cosmic shell game. And there was darkness again on the face of the deep.

UNCLE MONSTER

The realtor told me there were stories of ghosts. I said there was nothing to it. Ghosts. Please. The first night, I heard a noise in the attic. I thought maybe it was a squirrel or a raccoon, so I checked it out. Nothing. The next night, I heard something crash in the living room. When I looked, again there was nothing. Every night, a different room. Kitchen. Nothing. My office. Nothing. Basement. Nothing. I heard something shatter in the bathroom but when I got in there, there was no sign of broken glass. I looked in the mirror. Nothing.

ANIMA ZABALETA

Sweet Nothings

Babe, roll over. You’re snoring again…

Get those frozen feet off me! How is it your toes are colder than Siberia in winter?

You’re hogging all the blankets again!

I need more room here; I’m teetering on the edge of the bed. Re/Max has less real estate than you!

Honey, can you turn the light out? It’s 2 a.m. No, really. I have to work in a few hours.

In the hamper! Hang it up! Were you born in a barn? Not there!

Come closer. Did I tell you how special you are? Did I mention I love you today?

REDGODDESS

“The American people deserve a candidate with experience…” the newsanchor declares. With coffee brewing and toast in one hand, Lola listens to the morning news as she dresses for her 16 hour shift. She mutes the TV unable to digest more than 30 seconds of packaged promises. She watches the news in small doses the same way she would like to eat fatty foods, but who can afford it? These career politicians have finessed the art of promising nothing while expecting voters to give absolute commitment. Lola is part of the new working poor. She has become immune to charismatic political puppets.

NORVAL JOE

Cliff Evans had always been proud of his 1957 Chevy Bel Air. All original, the numbers matched and the radio always played. But not tonight. He scanned through the stations and got nothing, not even from across the border.
The engine rattled to a stop on an empty stretch of Highway 101. He tried the ignition. Nothing. No spark.
His girlfriend in the back seat was silent. Usually a constant chatterbox, but tonight, nothing.
He got out of the car and under a moonless sky, he pulled the corpse from the back seat and rolled it into an empty ditch.

DANNY DWYER

Can you create something from nothing? Can I die, and have my brain ressurected? Once upon a time, by brain, it was something. I mastered the English language, and I could create with it whatever I wanted. Then, I died. My entire body rejected itself. Every cell in my body experienced a catastrophic moment, and collapsed within itself. Once I was something, and in an instant, I became nothing. Then I was resurrected. My brain was scanned into a very powerful Quantum computer. Now, I live my life in cyberspace, something, yet at the same time, I live in nothing.

PLANET Z

I never had any imaginary friends. Instead, I had an imaginary rock.

It just sat there and did nothing.

When other kids would talk to their imaginary friends, I’d pick up my imaginary rock and bash in their imaginary heads, and kill those jerks.

How the other kids got all bloodied up, I have no idea, because my rock was imaginary and you can’t get hurt by an imaginary rock.

Still, I got taken out of that school and sent to a special school.

With bars. And cameras. And lots of pills I have to take.

And no imaginary rocks.

Weekly Challenge #328 – Fair

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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

The topic this week was Fair.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

CIRCE

Look Here

Damn it, we are going to hell in a handbasket. We suffer storms never before at

such wide destrution.. (unless you count the Great Flood, of the Noah story).. We

go to see a movie and get mowed down like in a class B gangster movie.. We have to

be careful to be very PC about how we talk about that.. And oh, don’t eat Chick Fil

A … but HEY, try to remember that we are supposed to have the right to our own

opinion, and freedom of speech and what the hell has happened to us? Oh, my God!

LIZZIE

The Drama Fair promised to be thrilling; stress, arguments, misunderstandings, all in one place and for such a low price too. He checked the ticket, 1W. That was odd, in the chart the rows went up to 100M. He didn’t remember a W. But he followed the signs and eventually saw an arrow pointing him in the right direction. When he got to his place, he saw no one. “Where’s the drama?” The place was empty. He looked around and found a sign saying “Warning, enforced no drama area”. “What?! Damn it. I knew I shouldn’t have bought the cheapest ticket…”

THOMAS

Blond and fair, button nose. Lovely wrote poems, read them from her iPad. She read at the First Friday Open Mic Night. She stood close to the microphone, almost touching it with her glossy lips. She tossed her hair. Once, twice. We could hear her breathing as she read each line. From the back of the room, her friends snapped photos of her at the podium. It was like a rock concert. Lovely’s poems were desperate and insipid. We tried to be polite. Clapped when she finished. She curtsied, and I tasted a little bile in my mouth. Coffeehouse poet.

A fair weather friend, Norvil only called if he wanted to borrow the lawnmower, or to ask if I would pick something up for him next time I’m at the big hardware store in the city. I wouldn’t see him for months, and then the call. “Can I borrow your extension ladder. Yes? OK. Do you have a spare paint roller and pan? Great. I’ll be out, but if you can bring them over, my wife is home. Just leave them around back. Great. Super. Oh…your rose bush is hanging over the side fence. Do you mind cutting it back?”

Mrs. Frye was not fair at all. She taught American History, and relied on the rote method for everything. She tolerated no humor or anyone getting out of their seat. I would be out of my seat all the time. I was bored, and I hated the topic. She taught, but I didn’t learn. I used the class period to write in my notebook, copy gunpowder formulas out of the encyclopedias, or to go up behind Shirley Ragsdale and squeeze a bosom or two, and sometimes put a wet finger in her ear and wiggle it until she cried out.

SHRUTI

According to the advertisements she should have been 3 shades fairer by now. If only for once they told the truth. She’d tried all her grandmother’s recipes of milk, honey, lemon juice and what not. None of it had worked.

She turned 25 in September. If she didn’t find a match soon, the only eligible men would be divorcees and widowers. Her father would never hear of it.

To add to her troubles, societal norms said Ajay and Priya couldn’t get married until she, the elder sister was settled.

She looked at her dusky reflection and sighed…

Life wasn’t fair.

JEFFREY

When we were growing up, my kid brother Dan and I had very different approaches to getting Halloween loot. I’d carefully plan a lengthy evening, hitting a lot of houses – and I knew who gave out the good stuff, the Snickers and Reese’s Cups, not toothbrushes and that godawful Mike & Ike crap. Dan would hit a handful of our neighbors and call it a night.

Then the fun would begin. Against my protests, our parents would combine the candy and reallocate it between the two of us (snagging some of the best pieces for themselves, I might add). I might have done 70% of the work, but I ended up with less than half the haul.

“That’s not fair!” I’d whine, but of course Dan didn’t see it that way. “He’s your brother,” Mom always said, “so you need to split things with him.” I’d mutter under my breath, but my parents enforced their rule. As I got older, I realized the only thing I could do was to hit fewer houses, so my pile slowly shrank.

Now I run a successful business. Dan is a politician. I guess some things never change.

SERENDIPITY

The young woman arrived in the village in the early Autumn. Fayewren – for that was the maiden’s name – was fair and fresh of face, unlike the dark-skinned, ruddy-cheeked women of the village. Her flaxen tresses framed her delicate face; her lips, like rose petals, adorning her porcelain skin.

The young men, of course, entranced by her presence, followed her like puppy dogs, but they were charmless and uncouth in her sight – quite simply, she was the very epitome of beauty and grace.

We fed her to the dragon anyway – well, fair maidens are devilishly hard to come by!

TOM

“Fair is Fair,” yelled Frankie firing a burst of 9mms into the void.

“Fair is Fair,” screamed Johnnie returning the volley with a round of full metal jackets.

Next came a sortie of tow missiles followed by a barrage of MGM-51s.

“Whimp,” bellowed Frankie letting loose of his scuds.

“Pussy,” mocked Johnnies sending his Russian ICBMs into the black.

“Take, This,” ragged Frankie powering up his imperial death star.

“OH Yea,” railed Johnnie engaging his Ming the Merciless death ray.

Both of them hit the Super String Triple K Electron Resequencer button simultaneously. From the void came, “You missed.”

MUNSI

Fair?

Where does fairness become relevant?

Nobody ever said life was fair.

Nasty? Sure, life’s that. Brutish? Absolutely. Short? Oh yes, far too short. Doesn’t seem short at first, but as you live you realize it’s shorter than any man can reasonably bear.

But fair? No. It’s unreasonable to even hope it might be. I’ve no idea who’s been filling your head with such nonsense. Fairness…

Oh, I said life was fair? When did I say that?

Yesterday?

Oh, yeah, I vaguely recall that.

I lied.

People lie sometimes, get over it.

After all, nobody ever said life was fair.

TURA

There were a human, a Ferengi, and a Klingon. They plotted to hijack a spaceship and steal its cargo of unrefined dilithium. The human’s subterfuge got them on board undetected. The Klingon overcame the crew. The Ferengi was able to get the best black market price for the dilithium.

To divide the spoils, the human proposed, “We should have equal shares. That is fair.”

The Ferengi responded, “No! Without me, you could never have got such a good price. I claim half! That is fair!”

The Klingon drew his disruptor and killed them. He roared, “may ‘oH! Hoch vItlhap jItlhInganmo’!”*

(*) “THAT is fair! I take everything, because I am a Klingon!”

YORDIE

Uncle Bill told us we were going to stop at Mr. Gawddamnit’s house so he’d open the gate.

Cousin Michael asked, “who is Mr. Gawddamnit?”

Aunt Annie explained, “When Mr. Gawddamnit was a boy he got hit in the head with an axe. He lived but afterward the first word he said was ‘gawddamnit.’ And he never stopped.”

Uncle Bill said, don’t annoyed him because he’s crazy.

We arrived at Mr. Gawddamnit’s gate. He said, “Gawddamnit hey Mr. Bill!” and “Gawddamnit got that gate!”

We drove through and the man looked at us. He said, “Gawddamnit Miss Annie… pretty kids!”

CLIFF

Mirror mirror on the wall.
Who’s the fairest of them all?
The butcher is a man quite sound.
He sells meat by the honest pound

Mirror why do you vex?
I mean fairest of the fairer sex!
The barmaid by the name of Sal
Whether you’re drunk or straight, she’s an honest gal.

Mirror when I speak of fair,
I speak of beauty, skin and hair.
But my queen, you can’t deny
That beauty’s in the beholders eye.

Mirror, I’ve a hammer here
Now can you make your answer clear?
Oh, now I understand,
You’re the fairest in the land.

ZACKMANN

“I need your fare if you want to ride this shuttle to the ticket gate
but if you don’t want to pay it is less than a two miles away. Since
it is such a fare day you might enjoy the walk.” said the shuttle
driver.
“Fair is fair, I will be doing a fair amount of walking already,
Hopefully enough to walk off the deep fried fare. Last year my diet
did not fare well and my fare wife threatened to find me a fair deal
on a hog scale if I didn’t stop eating too much fair food.”

BOTGIRL

“So you don’t have any money?” he crooned in an oily voice that made her cringe right down to her painted toes. “That’s fine. I’m sure we can figure out a fair trade.”

She wanted to run. She wanted to hide. She wanted to choke the leer out of his little weasel eyes. But she hurt. Hurt bad.

“I guess a loan’s out of the question?” she joked. Stalling.

“You’ll get what you want when I get what I want,” he said, unzipping his pants.

“Fine,” she sighed, forcing down the bile in her throat. “Bend over you little bitch.”

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Fair by Sevi and BC

At the edge of the woods, a fun house stood near the fair.
A dishevelled clown stood at the entrance luring people in with an evil grin.
Admission was 50 cents.

Clumsy reeked of drink, people were put off.
The next day, a new sign. “Free Puppies on Exit”

Sally paid. She almost made it to the exit alive.
A few feet from the exit, she noticed the decaying skeletons.

Suddenly 13 ferocious snarling little puppies, led by Pablo and Espi’s lil Pepe rushed towards Sally.
Screams pierced the air as sharp milk teeth sunk into her tender soft skin.

Fair by Sevi and BC

Tom knew life wasn’t fair. His existence was filled with hardships,
He called orphanages some sort of “home” since a wee boy.

By 9 years old, an accomplished thief, his first murder at age 12.
Tom lived tough, never expecting or giving any kindness in his life.

Standing at the gallows, he reminisced as the executioner tightened the noose.
His reverie was interrupted by the warden saying: “As a courtesy sir, do you have any last words?”
He shook his head no, thinking to himself….. FINALLY!
The executioner later remarked seeing Tom smiling as the death hood slipped into place.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Randoph growled from behind the curtain. “It isn’t right.” He tensed, but I restrained him with a hand.

“Not yet, brother.” Our nostrils flared with the smells of teenagers drenched in perfume and desperate older women. “Not yet.”

The movie marathon paused before the final film.

“Now,” I said, extending my fangs as, under the moonlight, Randolph’s fur sprouted from his skin.

We strode before the screen, sparkling body lotion glittering, the crowd going wild.

Afterward, Randolph kept muttering. “Still not right. We deserve more than minimum wage.”

“Plus tips,” I said, retrieving dollar bills from my pants. “Plus tips.”

REDGODDESS

This month, the state transportation authority raises the fares for buses and trains. They triple the price for seniors and students. In some areas, bus routes are restricted. Commuters take to the streets. They jump the turnstiles to show these power hungry executives they are fed up. Lola sees all sides of the argument even though she too, will be affected by these changes. She wonders how is it fair for people to choose whether to buy groceries, medications or pay for a damn bus pass? It seems these transportation managers cut their sense of decency with the annual budget.

ANIMA ZABALETA

Lulu is a grand mountain of a madam.

She’s housemother for the trapeze girls, the one they come to for emotional support when the applause and the their looks begin to fade.
Lu feeds the lions and tigers, tossing hefty bales of catnip to her “kitties”.
She always has a pot of verbena tea brewing, with maybe a drop of something stronger for the Midway barkers when their throats are raw.
Lulu is fearless as she chides the Ringmaster when he is being overly arrogant.

She might have a beard and weigh 700 pounds, but she is my fair lady.

DANNY

The Fairness Doctrine, meant to ensure that a variety of views, beyond those of the licensees and those they favored, were heard on our airwaves. In August 1987, the FCC abolished the Fairness doctrine by a 4-0 vote. This allowed Newt Gingrich, in the GOPAC memo of 1994, to strongly advocate describing Democrats as decay, failure, collapse, deeper, crisis, urgency, destructive, sick, pathetic, liberal, betray, shallow, traitors, and sensationalists. This position has been adopted wholeheartedly by our mainstream media, owned by the rich and affluent, and hell bent on not telling news, but making profits. Well, doesn’t that sound FAIR, (and BALANCED)!

NORVAL JOE

Owen screamed as only a chicken could. He flapped his wings and tried to escape the wizardess’s strangle hold. After her arms were arms were scratched, pecked and bleeding Shareeka stuffed the chicken into a canvas bag.
To be fair Owen was a chicken and, rather than wait for him to reverted to his normal form, Shareeka turned Traveler into a chicken hawk. Lunging into the sky in search of the demon hoard Traveler screeched at the boy. What chicken wouldn’t act like, well, a chicken?
Even more unfair was an hour later when Owen reverted to being a boy.

PLANET Z

Buttons always sleeps on my twin sister’s bed.

Our friends and parents can’t tell us apart, but Buttons can.

I’ve traded beds with her, but Buttons still sleeps next to her.

Treats under my pillow. Catnip on the blanket.

It’s not fair.

I beg my parents for another cat, saying how Buttons is lonely and needs a cat-friend.

I promise to clean the litterboxes, pay for the vet bills out of my allowance, and get good grades.

We pick up a kitten. I name her Mittens.

That night, I watch her sleep, curled up against Buttons on my sister’s bed.

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