Category: Weekly Challenge

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety, 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 What is the first thing you see out your window?

And we’ve got stories by:

Jami Titanium
Taralyn Gravois
Zackmann
Tura Brezoianu
Thomas Pitre
Chris Munroe
Tom
Danny
Steven the Nuclear Man
Peisi Tan
Norval Joe
Abernathy
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

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Jami

Meri stood, stretched, and moved to the heavily curtained window. The sun had just tipped over the horizon to signal morning.

Drew had been gone all night.

She resisted the urge to pace… it was his habit anyway… and watched as a bird yanked a worm from the dew-soaked ground. It wriggled in its beak, trapped in the throws of death before disappearing down the bird’s gullet.

Meri sighed. She knew that if Drew didn’t come back she was no better off than that worm. She didn’t have the technical knowledge to keep herself herself hidden. That was his contribution…

Taralyn

Today when I look out the window I see the sun reflecting off my neighbors big ugly WHITE deck. It really stands out amongst the pine trees and fall leaves and dark brown house it is attached to.

It used to be a nice brown color that matched the house, but then they painted it white, you can’t miss it. But then they said it wasn’t about color it was about the sun making the dark wood hot for their dogs. Now the puppies can go out on the deck without burning their little paws. Lucky little puggles, your loved.

Zackmann

I had planned spending the night getting my quickbooks account in order and doing some writing. I never thought there could be so many software and website updates on the same night. After the first hour I just got frustrated and spent the rest of the night staring out the window.
I wish I could enjoy the beautiful sunrise but it overlooks a horrible wreckage. Shards of glass, plastic in black, and runes engraved on little squares. Oh God why did I not listen to Wes Borg, I should have never bought a computer that was smaller than the window.

Aikie

I look out of my window at the big Azalea bush, white flowers like massive snowflakes.

When we moved in the house the bush was still small with few flowers and lots of space around.

In the meantime kids grew up, had good day, bad days and troubled days.

Had lots of trouble, boy trouble, girl trouble, enough to fill the place.

Kids moved out and only me, wifey and the Azalea bush is left, old age on all of us.

Damn, how well time flies, where does it go to?

Tura

The Memorial Glade, I’ll call it, when the trees are fully grown. When I started on the project, the neighbours thought that digging the site out with a backhoe was overkill (ha!) but I told them the subsoil needed breaking up, or the big trees I planned wouldn’t be able to spread their roots properly. You have to set about things seriously, I say, or what’s the point? The place looked like a building site for a while, but it’s paid off, you can’t tell the ground was ever disturbed.

But oh yes, I know where the bodies are buried.

Thomas

The yellow garden shed stands there under the tree, covered with a new coat of oil based primer and a coat of water based, yellow paint. It came on a pickup truck. The finished shed is 10 x 12 feet, and has a gambrel roofline. It has enough room in it to hang the three sets of decomposing bodies of the Mormon missionaries I lured into my house over the past six months. I’ve put two inches of rock salt on the floor to soak up the fluids and keep the odors confined to my yard.

The scores of little tweety birds love my back yard. I made and suspended a number of adorable birdhouses in the trees, and on the garage and studio in order to provide spring homes for the most fragile of them. In winter, I put out pounds of wild birdseed in the feeders for them when the snow comes. I am always sure to break the ice on the basins that hold their water, or they help themselves from the water I put out daily for the dogs. Sometimes I trap and eat a fat one, pretending its squab or partridge.

Chris Munroe MUNSI MUNSI MUNSI

There’s screaming outside my apartment.

And as I listen from my chair, I’d swear it sounds like my neighbor.

Idiot. He knows when the sun sets, we all do. It’s why we instituted the curfew.

If he’s gone outside, what’s happening is his own damn fault.

I know that. Everyone does.

Still, hearing him screaming I can’t help feeling guilty.

I wish he’d stop.

He will soon.

I know I ought to at least try to help, but I can’t bring myself to go to my window and take a look into the street.

For fear of what I’d see…

Tom

I open one eye, didn’t have the strength for two. Dawn was a good two hours away, but the sky was glowing like a Chinese Screen in a Shanghai brothel. Through the sliding French doors in a single pane were silhouetted two palms. They were a good 80 years old and a good 80 feet tall. At a distance of 300 yards they appeared six inches high. Despite the distance I could make out the coffered edge of the truck the fanning web of fronds. Its been almost 40 years since I left Chicago and palm trees still amazes me.

Danny

On an unseasonalby cold Saturday morning for west central Florida, I look out my window, and what do I see? A steady stream of homeless people walking down 5th Avenue towards my house. I’m spotted looking out my window, now the homeless are after me. Despite shuting my blinds and try to hid, they start knocking on the doors and windows, screaming, “You don’t belong in that house, you belong out here with us.” The windows break, the doors are kicked down, as I am dragged out to the street screaming, “where are the damn cops in this town?” Welcome to the new American Dream.

Steven the Nuclear Man

I can tell it is still dark outside, even though my eyes are closed.
I lay still, keep my breathing regular, so they won’t know I’m awake.

They’re near. I hear them breathing, smell their unwashed bodies. I
don’t know how I will escape them, but I must try.

Slowly, I work my hands free from the restraining cloth. I tense,
ready to move and –

– they notice.

I open my eyes with the blast of rancid breath, and can only see my
dog’s rough tongues descending to lick my face clean.

What a way to start the day.

Norval Joe

Fly Paper Boy, now known as Jerry Faulkner, eyed the girl he was supposed to kidnap.
The Burgerslovegan dictator’s daughter was about as appealing as an empty swimming pool on a winter day; a couple inches of filthy water, dirt and leaves at the deep end.
Nickrieta was dumpy, red faced, sweaty and smelled like a wet dog. With her hair pulled back into a tight braid and wound into a bun, her face looked as friendly as a hatchet.
And he had to kiss that?
Jerry tried to think of some other way he could repay Esmerelda Flinch’s favor.

TJ

I think maybe the biggest reason behind the success of online dating sites isn’t that people meet through them, which they do, even on eMusicalChairs.com, but really that lots of us have completely lost a social context out here in meatspace. Even going to bars I don’t feel anyone’s hoping to be met by me, and oftentimes I don’t get the sense they wanna be met at all. I suppose if it was as easy as looking out one’s window – um, nope. 78-year-old neighbor lady in a robe smoking a cigarette. Sigh. I guess I’d better log back in. *beep*

Planet Z

Looking out my window, I see Bruwyn the cat walking along the fence.

A year ago, he was crawling along that fence, dragging his back legs after getting hit by a car.

It took weeks of vet visits, medication, and recovery for him to get back to walking again.

Seeing him so sad and helpless then, it feels good to watch him walking on the fence proud and tall now.

But it worries me… what if…

I try not to think of it as he leans over the fence and drops to the sidewalk below, pursuing a lizard or bug.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-Eght, 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 Halloween

And we’ve got stories by:

Taralyn Gravois
Chris Munroe
Tom
Abernathy
Sachy
Danny
Zackmann
Norval Joe
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

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Taralyn

Bubbles remind me of different times in my life. As a small child my mom gave me a bath with Mr. Bubble.

As a toddler my dad showed me how to blow bubbles.

Then at 10 I got this kit that made cool plastic bubbles that were a swirl of amazing colors.

In highschool, car washes throwing sponges covered in bubbles at my teenage girlfriends. What fun.

As an adult washing dishes and taking a moment to enjoy the slippery bubbles on my hands.

Then having a kid and giving him a bath in Mr. Bubble the cycle starts again.

Munsi

Bubbles rise to the surface, burst, and are gone. And as suddenly as that it’s all over.

He’d thought he could steal from me, thought I wouldn’t notice a few bucks “disappearing” here and there.

I make it my business to notice everything.

I could have alerted the authorities, but it’d been a while since I went hands on, so I solved the problem myself.

An invite to an afternoon on my boat, a bottle of wine and a willingness to wait for my opportunity.

And now, as I sail home, I can’t help but smile.

I’ve still got it.

Tom

In an effort to generate reasonable returns on investment speculators have damn near plumbed every conceivable commodity, but in 2065 the 120 year old guru of hedging Glen Beck initiated the Opera Star Trading Card Stampede. A Plácido Domingo in “Semper Augustus” was valued at 25 trillion Lindens. Just last week I traded a Caruso and an Andrea Bocelli for a Beverly Sills in the Tahitian version of La boheme. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Oh My My AukAuk. It came with the complementary stick of gum. The gum has no effect of value. Couldn’t blow a damn bubble.

Abernathy

Bubbles the Clown was a burlesque style clown stripper. Not as rare as you might think. Mainly booked for bachelor parties. Always entering a room in a dress made of clear plastic bubbles. Quirky music playing faintly as she teasingly took off her dress. Left with only her cute pink polka-dotted pumps, cotton candy colored pig-tales, and clown make-up. She sat on pies and balloons. Cool-whip squirted out the sides of her tush and balloons popped loudly as her bottom slammed against a chair. Men would cheer and she would smile and giggle. Upside-down split was Bubbles finale.

Sachy

“Thank you for calling 1(800)LONELYU . Please hold while we connect you with the girl of your dreams.”

“Hey there big boy, my name is Bubbles…whats yours?”

“Uh…Dexter”

“Alright Dexter, what can I do for you?”

“MOM! I’M ON THE PHONE WITH MY GIRLFRIEND, GO AWAY! Um…well…I’mma level 45 Mage Paladin from Ure and I want you to be a helpless maiden captured by a Chaos Beast.”

“Dexter? How old are you?”

“16…Hello?”

“I’m sorry Dexter, I have to go”

“No, no. Don’t hang up! Ugh. THANKS MOM! YOU JUST SCARED AWAY MY GIRLFRIEND!”

Danny

Bubbles was a high class prostitute who lived on the upper east side of Manhattan. Relaxing in a hot tub at her condo with John, her statuesque boyfriend, they were both mesmerized by the bubbles rising in their Champagne. ”We need to go to Amsterdam,” John stated. “Where’s that?” Bubbles asked. “In Holland,” responded John. ”Oh, is that where the Hollish live?” Bubbles blurted. “I thought they were Dutch,” John responded. ” Uh, like, no, if the place is named Holland, the Hollish must live there.” So, John and Bubbles run off the the airport, Champagne in hand, off to Holland, in search of the Hollish.

Zackmann

I wish I had not used this house. My wife said she had a friend who would loan us a cabin in rural Maine. The view of the leaves and the color of the trees is wonderful this time of year. We thought we could spend some time away not thinking about the house of which we are eternally bound since we refinanced it near the top of the real estate bubble. My wife and boys went shopping in the next town I hope to see them again, some day. I am alone stuck in the bubble at Chester’s Mill

Norval Joe

Vaudeville was big and she was a star. People came from miles away to see her act. They called her bubbles because of the strategically placed bubbles she used when she danced.
But as movies became more and more popular and theaters popped up in even the smallest of towns, live acts like hers drew smaller crowds until one day she was out, living on the streets like a dog.
The final insult came when she wrapped herself in a tattered vaudeville poster to try and keep warm in the freezing snow. A poster of her, Bubbles, the dancing dachshund.

TJ

Darn these “dress casual” things. I’d dress too casual and she’d be pissed, or I’d be too dressed up and that would be wrong too. I texted her. “What are you wearing?” I asked. Her words appeared in a tiny bubble. “I dunno … what are you wearing?” Oh, a tease! “Nothin’ but a smile,” I grinned. No response. I wondered if I’d frightened her away. Then the flurry of texts. “Hi! I’m back” “Sorry I missed your call.” And “My daughter has ben warned against pretending to be me and will be dealt with.” Well, that was pretty embarrassing.

Planet Z

There was this one kid in school who said the problem with Baptists is that they don’t hold them under water long enough.

They dragged the kid into the bathroom and held his face in the toilet.

What began as a swirly became a full-fledged drowning, bubbles all around, less and less, then…

Nothing.

HAVE YOU BEEN HELD UNDER LONG ENOUGH?

He was limp, no fight left at all.

HAVE YOU BEEN HELD UNDER LONG ENOUGH?

Then, they let go of him, still face-down in the toilet, backing away slowly… no movement…

“He died saved,” I said to the cops.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-Eght, 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 Halloween

And we’ve got stories by:

Sevda
Huangfu Ran
Carole
Sachy
Chris Munroe
Tom
Paladin
Jeff Hite
Miketh Fretwork
Steven the Nuclear Man
Zackmann
Norval JoeTJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

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Sevda

Halloween

This child transforms into a vampire
Running past the blazing campfire
Instantly upon the porch he yells
“Can I have a trick or treat”
Kindly, he’s given blood to eat
OR
This child transforms into a smurf
Running around the familiar turf
Every stop continues the flood
As she yells out, “Happy Halloween”
Till her face by all is seen

Huangfu Ran

The piping of orioles and twitter of swallows
announce a new year.
To Ma Yi and Long Dui
a thousand mile road.
My home is in a towered city close to the Han park;
My heart follows the bright moon into Tartar skies.
On my loom I have woven my endless sorrow
into brocade;
In the upper chamber, sprays of bl ossom
mock my solitary sleep.
I ask General Dou, Commander of Cavalry,
When will he turn the banners
and carve his exploits on Swallow Rock.

Carole

I was in the shower working up a rich, soapy lather with my body scrub, when the doorbell started to persistently ring.

“Darn,” I thought, “What could be so important?”

I hastily stepped out of my warm cocoon, into my pink fluffy robe and flew down the stairs to answer the door.

A coven of six year old ghouls proffering pumpkin buckets and cauldrons yelled
“Trick or Treat!” at me , giggling with anticipation. I noted their “Gatekeeper”, a tall, gorgeous, handsome man, appraising my dripping wet body, so I responded with a seductive wink

“Well, that depends….”

Later on…

Sachy

From the hell fire in which Halloween was created, the most demonic and horrifying creature was born. In lore he would come to be known as…Brucie.

“Oh em gee, that’s me!”

Greedy tendrils work their way into your unsuspecting pillow cases, bags and buckets in search for his favorite candies.

“Is that Snickers? I just know these are going to go straight to my hips.”

If you see the bright sequenced vest and gleam of leather chaps in the moonlight, grab your candy and run for he is the one creature that will ruin your Halloween.

“You’re so silly.”

Chris Munsi Monroe

And welcome back to Zombie chat! We’ve got some amazing guests joining us on the show tonight and we can’t wait to get started.

First up we’ve got Nobel prizewinning economist Paul Krugman joining us, and we’re going to eat his brain. Our musical guest is Canadian ‘90s power poppers The Odds, playing one of their classic hits. Finally, the head chef of a popular downtown restaurant will be dropping by to cook us a meal involving a surprising secret ingredient!

But first, what’s left of David Mitchellson is outside with the action weather report. Take it away, David!

“Raaaaaaaaain…”

Tom

After very little thought I have decided what I want to be for Halloween this year. Angry Bird Red. I built a 20 foot sling shot. Got an 8 foot ball of nerf covered in red Kevlar. For the destructive material braking kinetic aspect of the costume I’m lighting up ¼ sticks of dynamite and throwing them against people’s screen doors. Really brings that trick or treat meme into the 21st century. Tried to talk my wife into dressing up as Yellow Angry Bird. She pointed out someone needs to me around to throw bail. Ok honey release the ….. eeeeee.

Paladin

Watch, I’ll show you how it’s done. Ya gotta jump when you go into the fog, if you jump when you get in then you’re flying and the ghosts can’t get you. Watch out, the grass is lava. Hop on the rocks. Quick up the stairs, use your flashlight so the goblins can’t get you through the holes. Knock knock. Open bag, smile. TRICK OR TREAT!! Thank you, you’re welcome. Don’t worry, he’s a friendly werewolf. On to the next house. You’re doing pretty good for your first Halloween.

Jeff Hite

Bill came onto the bridge wearing half of an environment suit.
“Why are you wearing an environment suit?” the Computer asked.
“What? oh this, yeah I am putting my Halloween costume together.”
“Halloween?”
“Yes, I want to be ready for the big party at the end of the month.”
“It is only September, and there will be no one to have a party with. Everyone will be in stasis for another 40 years.”
“Well party pooper, I am going to have a great costume, you’ll see. And there will be lights and music, you have got the monster mash right?”

Miketh

Candles are lit, the table is set and the wine is sitting chilled in a bucket of ice. Darla peeks out the window not once but twice. Her husband was late again which wouldn’t suffice. When he walked in the door she would not cause a scene, for it was October 31st also known as Halloween. Charles did love to be fashionably late. He had even done so on their very first date. He took her and kissed her under that old oak tree. If only he hadn’t been dead since 2003. He’d want more than brains unlike other zombies.

Steven The Nuclear Man

My benefactor chortles from the shadows. “Your Trunk-and-Treat was
very…sanitary, Pastor.” His belly moves when he speaks.

I nod and mumble my thanks. “Thanks to you, it was a very Christian–”

He laughs and his belly jiggles. “I don’t care what you call it.
Just so they forget what this holiday is really about. Forget the
sacrifices. Forget what they were scared of.”

Two short men – elves – grab my wrist, and I glimpse red cloth and
white beard as my benefactor rises.

“And then they’ll forget my holiday, and milk and cookies will never,
ever be enough.”

Zackmann

Wow, Captain Cheyenne if you are normally a pirate should you dress as a pirate for Halloween? Great sexy goblin nurse costume,Nyro.
Oh, it is a regular nurse costume I put the sexy in it. Said Nyro.
Also the real tail. Here have some candy, I wouldnt do this to the children on Halloween but would you like some fresh fruit? To bring back to the ark? Unlike pirates most children don’t worry much about scurvy.
How did you know about the story ark? asked captain Cheyenne.
Nyro posted a picture on Twitter when you landed at the river.
zackmann

Drew convinced his mother to take him and this brother shopping for Halloween costume stuff. He asked his mother for a good deal of costume stuff. Her response was telling him that he was crazy if he thought she was spending that much for something that he will use only once. He responded by asking why she would think he would only use it once.
Later asks to go back for some red and blue cloth also some black electrical tape.
On Halloween night, Drew’s dad was not sure which superhero Drew was but had to admit Drew looked great

Norval Joe

Detective Branson woke to the sound of his dog scratching at his bedroom door. He peered at his bedside clock.
“3 AM,” he moaned.
The phone rang. Typically, he wouldn’t answer it, but he was already awake.
“Branson. This is Captain Harris,” the familiar voice said. “You were right about the zombie invasion starting at mid-night on Halloween. Only problem is, mid-night on Halloween was this morning and not tonight. You’d better get right in.”
Getting out of bed, Branson kicked his dog where it lay on the floor, sleeping.
When the scratching came again, he reached for his shotgun.

TJ

Hi! Oh, sorry. Hey there, I’m… someone else entirely, my bad. Hey,
nice costume! Oh… sorry. No, it’s still a great costume, just you’re a
dude. Hello? Hello? Anyone? Miss? *”Enjoys a sense of whimsy and
lighthearted fun.” Yeah, thanks eMusicalChairs, that’s, um, all well
and good until, say, someone like Sharon sets up your first meeting at a
Halloween Corn Maze in the middle of a Three Musketeers theme. And has
you both dress like… you guess it… musketeers. Sharon? Sharon? Oh…
hi… costume came with its own mustache as well, hmm. Or, wow, I…
sure hope it did.

Planet Z

Some people pass out candy for Halloween.
But this year, all I seem to do is pass out.
Every time I open the door to step out there, the world goes all swimmy.
What are you, ghost? Zombie? Pirate? Regis Philbin? The One Percent?
Things get dark, and I’m falling.
When I come to, the candy’s gone, maybe I’ve got a bump on my head or a bruise on my arm.
Damn kids. Damn Halloween.
Then I realize I’ve been stepping on the hose to my oxygen mask.
Pulling the tank a little closer to the door should solve it.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Zoo

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas
Sevda
Peter W.
Laina Ash
Chris Munroe
Zackmann
Tom
Abernathy
Paladin
TJ
Norval Joe
Sachy Rexen
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

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Thomas

It was a zoo in there. Every farewell party they had at the office turned out this way. Mr. Wood, the boss, a small person, took off his clothes and danced on the counter that held the doughnuts and coffee machine. Today, his secretary, Greta, was in the corner by the water cooler. She sobbed and blubbered about leaving for her job in Austin. She would miss Mr. Wood and their impromptu couplings in the copy room, and she would miss Mr. Wood’s attention, and the smell of his cologne. Most of all, she would miss the farewell parties.

##

It was a teasing zoo. Someone had the bright idea, and had the monetary backing of rich, Hollywood, self-indulgent, debauchees. Those invited, and attending the zoo could throw things at the monkeys and squirt water in the faces of the older animals. The zoo was very popular for a while, but when word got out, PETA, the SPCA and several other animal rights groups stormed the zoo and took the operators hostage, only to turn the tides by opening a teasing zoo of their own. This time, the animals had their chance for revenge, and it was horrendous, but funny.

Sevda

The monkey slips his hand into the pocket, gently withdrawing the master key as the attendant slumbers against the enclosure. He scampers over to the door, hands fumbling with the turning of the lock. Nearby animals watch the events unfold. “FREEDOM!” he yells, the enclosure suddenly evacuated. He pauses noticing the longing look from the animals. He sets out on his self appointed quest freeing everyone. Some run, fly, or slither off with glistening eyes of mischief. “RUN!” he chants, scurrying up a tree, swinging branch to branch alongside the zoo’s parade discovering their new life.

Peter Wood

The last rays of sunlight glint over the high perimeter wall as I walk past the food stands, closed for the night, and through the litter left by the other animals – The ones the zoo cannot keep, but let in every day, with their opposable thumbs… and wallets.

The animals they let in make way for the ones they cannot keep out. The lions roar, preparing to sleep but rats are the main residents, as big as cats are ignored by the keeper who approaches.

“Excuse me sir, we’re closed now, can you make your way to the exit.”

Laina Ash

There’s a hippopotamus in my line who can not make up her mind.
A goldfish that can’t stay focus enough to finish the sentence that almost out of his mind.
A group of kittens to interest in what’s happening next to them to tell me what they need.
A dodo that’s living up to his name when I tell him his choices are on his feed.
A bunny that’s to quite to tell me what she wants to eat, that with me speaking up for her to hear me, she thumps and try to flee.
I know I’m the zookeeper today, but I feel like I’m the one in the cage. I guess its just one of those days. *Sighs*

Munsi

“You will not turn this courtroom into a zoo!”

The judge seethed, and I suppose I saw his point. Calling a lion tamer in as a character witness was one thing, but a cage of monkeys as “evidence” in a murder trial was beyond the pale.

Perhaps I should have apologized.

Instead I threw open the cage.

Monkeys exploded out of it, and everything was chaos. Lawyers, bailiffs and jurors scrambled, dodging flying poo as best they could. Hilarious.

I was sad to make my exit amidst that grand chaos.

But I had to. They’d have inevitably found me guilty…

Zackmann

This all started because I am an animal keeper and there was a new program director who did not understand the concept of a morning zoo radio show. Although the noises the animals made voiced more sense than some of the other radio shows especially the extreme left or right wing talk shows. If someone tells you a trained monkey could do a job, they never tried to train a monkey. It was like taking candy from a baby, nearly impossible. Now I am the morning guy. The animals are gone but it the studio still smells of monkey pooh.
zackmann

Hello, have some candy. Since I am at work most of the time I am awake, Halloween is one of the few times I see any of my neighbors.
The teenager asked “Was it your house that had apelike creatures running around it last week? My mother thought that something had escaped form the zoo.”
“Sorta” he replied “I didnt have time to decorate so I called Rent-a-Morlock” “How old is your little brother.”
“He is not really my brother. I thought myself too old to go trick or treating so I called Rent-a-Child so I would have an excuse.”

Tom

The Baltimore Asylum for the Criminally Insane is located in a 250 year old brick star fortress. In its subterranean level is ward 5e, a section surround by walls 14 feet thick. The guards on Ward 5e are rotated every 12 hours. In the American Penal system this facility is where the worst of the worst are warehoused. It is called the Zoo. The reigning King of the Zoo is inmate 471066j Lenard C. Parker. Mr. Parker dispatched a guard to his creator with no more than two sheet of note paper. He did it in less than five minutes.

Abernathy

They met at the same time everyday. The sun was just setting and the zoo was winding down. Nora walked over to Larry. They waited patiently for the last of the visitors to leave. Larry turned to Nora. “Not sure I can do this anymore.” Nora felt his sad gaze and asked. “What choice do you have?” Larry grumbled. Smiling Nora said. “Besides look at the perks and the cool hat you get to wear.” In a deep announcer voice she said. “Lar Lar the Dancing Bear!” Larry forgot he still had the hat on and knocked it off quickly.

Paladin

They said it couldn’t be done. If I hadn’t seen it myself I wouldn’t have believed it either. I’ve seen electric guitars, electric pianos, electric drums, even an electric trumpet once. But she brought something to the music scene nobody’s ever seen before. All it took was one show to make her a household name. No drums, no guitars, not even a vocalist. Just one artist backed by lasers and pryotechnics and fifty foot amps hooked up to a little plastic tube. That was the day the world got to know The ‘Zoo.

TJ

eMusicalChairs.com finally started matching me to people in my area — like Dana, a city assessment worker. She appraised my dress-casual sweater, assessed my manners and bearing. She filed interrogatives regarding my hopes and dreams weighted against her own. She was able to compile a dossier and prospectus on our future together by the time we were ready to leave, but what impressed me most was the PowerPoint presentation she whipped together in support of her arguments. Cold and dispassionate as this was, I actually wanted to meet again. For her, however, the numbers just didn’t add up. Quelle damage.

###

Don’t do this. Just don’t. Don’t meet your blind date at the zoo. This is a surefire recipe for disaster. Especially if you’re FUNNY?! Like me? Thinking I’m just really funny? I mean yeah, there were fake warnings I’d planted in her newsfeed about gorillas loose, and sure my antics in a gorilla costume have brought the house down at parties. But to come up behind her in suit and tie, flowers in hand and say to a nearby small child, “Look son, they were right! One of them’s escaped!” well… that just did not go over well at all.

Norval Joe

Milford Sackhacker went to the zoo everyday at lunchtime and watched the monkeys on thier island. Surrounded by a moat, they were protected from malicious visitors, and at the same time, trapped.
They lived comfortably, yet Milford felt this was wrong. These creatures were denied the rights guaranteed to other primates.
Early one morning Milford dressed as a zookeeper and slipped into the zoo. He rowwed a small boat to their island.
“I’ve come to set you free,” he told them.
Unfortunately, they recognized him from his daily visits and thought he must be a pervert. They ran away, screaming.

Sachy

The Zoo, really?! Ugh. Why is it when I hear the word I just can’t stop all the bad memories. Normally when people hear they are going to the Zoo they think about all of the wonderful things that they can see and experience. Not I. The Zoo just reminds me of the time the orangutan vomited over the glass. Or the time the elephant, Sumba, peed and it got all over my leg. Pandas! PANDAS! Oh, the thought of a panda scares the living crap out of me. Just a friendly PSA, don’t get too close. Ugh, the Zoo.

Planet Z

I remember seeing a zoo where the animals were in cages and there being brass signs saying LION and GORILLA and other names.

Then came open enclosures and plastic signs saying what they ate, where they came from… occasionally they said ENDANGERED or THREATENED.

Audio tours showed up. Clunky infrared headsets and timed tapes in Walkmen. MP3 players followed those.

Now, we punch up videos on smartphones, getting a quick lesson, and a bit of high-handed environmentalism in between the ads.

I watch an oryx standing by the path flicker. Then the zebra behind it.

Holograms.

Food’s was expensive, anyway.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Mustache

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas
Jeff
Chris Munroe
June
Tom
Abernathy
Boomer Bob
Danny
Pete Wood
Sevda
Zackmann
Pau
Chris The Nuclear Kid
Steven the Nuclear Man
Paladin
Norval Joe
Jeff Hite
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

Thomas

Joe was home on leave. He was on his second tour, so he flew stand-by to his home in Portland, Oregon where he was met by his wife and son. He exchanged a few words with his wife, gave her a thick roll of cash, then turned and climbed back onto the plane for his continued flight to Seattle, where he was met by his wife and daughters. He gave his wife a roll of cash, a long kiss, then turned to continue his flight on to Fairbanks where his pregnant wife waited for her kiss and roll of cash.

I knew I broke the record after re-typing my manuscript. The world record for the largest book was 750 leaves. My book started as a short story, then morphed into a memoir. I led a long and adventure-filled life as an insurance salesman, so I chose to write about the hundreds of incidents and anecdotes connected to my elderly clients – concentrating, and largely concerned with – the personal property insurance riders I wrote during my forty years in the business. The reviews of my 5,001 page, self-published tome left a lot to be desired, but I broke the record.

Jeff

I stood, not too close to this huge tree, and watched the leaves tumbling and falling from the branches as a light autumn breeze gently swept across the lake and past where I was waiting.

There was yellow, orange, red, and brown, in a variety of shades. Some the detritus was still soft and supple as though it had been alive and growing just moments before it fell, while other remnants of a summer now past were stiff and crunchy, life well spent.

I fired up the chainsaw and began cutting the thick trunk; there would be heat this winter.

Chris “Munsi” Munroe

The leaves on the trees turn red and gold and brown, and soon they’ll be gone.

I’ve a Scotch/Irish complexion, and I burn and peel in the summer, so when the fall breeze first blows I breathe a silent sigh of relief at having made it through another one. I grab a trenchcoat, an umbrella, and hit the streets to enjoy the season that seems made for me.

Soon Canadian winter will be upon me once again, and I’d be cursing the bitter cold. But at this moment, I’m too swept up in the breathtaking beauty of autumn to care.

June

“When the Leaves Fell”: Her wit was sharpest when the leaves fell.

That was how Granny rolled, even before her mind went into the long spiral of Alzhiemer’s failure. Halloween came with all its costumes, giving her plenty of fodder to heckle the grandkids.

“Are you supposed to be a whore?”

She asked me this the year I was a can-can-girl. The skirt was fabulous, every color of the rainbow hiding under a black silk shell. I said,

“Yes.”

At nine I thought that was what she wanted.

Mother grounded me for the first time that night, and Grandma stopped joking six years later.

Tom

When I heard of Hagakure I thought is there other places to hide? Could you be hidden in the bricks or hidden in the branches? I mean why not hidden in the water cooler or hidden in a bad book review about an obscure British poet? Then I founded out it had a semi-idiomatic meaning: doing good deeds without calling attention to oneself. Sounds a lot like true Charity. Don’t quite know how removing your lower intestine with steel can be constructed into a good deed, and the scream would limit that: Oh don’t pay any attention to me part.

Abernathy

She pressed the stapler firm against the leaf. Smiling she selected another and did the same. Each child from her class had their name perfectly printed on a Autumn colored leaf made of construction paper. The leaves scattered her classroom board cheerfully. She was down to her last one. A bright yellow leaf with the name Lilli upon it. She became heavyhearted. The teacher had no clue the hell the child had been through at home. Her guilt tugged at her. Instead of putting Lilli’s yellow leaf up. She brought it to her desk and slipped it into a drawer.

Boomer Bob

I went out my door this past morning

Feeling the chilled wind blow hard

I was surprised since there was no warning

I guess it was all in my birthday cards

I reached the age of 60 years last week

Now searching for what to believe

As a Baby Boomer I am over the hill’s peak

And have only myself to deceive

It is the time of the year we call fall

And I am ready to flutter to the ground

I wish I still had a summer’s youthful recall

But at least I leave this world more profound

Danny

I refuse to give my dog Freddie a treat until he calms down and stops barking, but Freddie won’t stop throwing a fit because he wants a treat. We’re having a Mexican standoff. There are leaves now matted in Freddie’s thick fur, remnants from our last walk, when once again I overindulged the little bugger by letting him roll in the grass and leaves. Good thing I know how to groom a dog, because Freddie needs to be groomed. I make a Freddie a deal, submit to grooming, he gets a treat. Instead, Freddie just turns away and leaves the room.

Pete Wood

Walking home through the park John kicked cheerfully through the fallen leaves, shuffling, listening to the sounds they made, feeling the resistance against his stride then… wondering what might be underneath, lurking there, waiting for him to trip, to enter their world. His pace slowed, he stopped shuffling and stepped out of the leaves, his mind racing he walked on, looking back. Were they still moving? Is that the wind, or something else…. Glancing at the path behind he wondered about the path ahead and he began to run towards the gates, the traffic and the clean pavement towards home.

Sevda

The squirrel investigates her drey, finding the twigs, sticks and moss
secure in the forked branches, but the wind blew most of the leaves away.
Peering down, she sees piles of leaves below. She thinks, “I’ll collect
those!” She scurries down the tree, leaping near the bottom …Swoosh! She
lands in the leaf pile. She spends the day gathering. She pants with the
last load, covering the leaves with moss. Smiling, she burrows inside.
“Ah, a comfortable bed at last.” she comments, curling up, “Good night
autumn wind” she whispers falling asleep.

Zackmann

The Sugar Maples are so beautiful this time of year. I love leaves but hate raking them. Now, I have to rake them. I took a leave of absence to take my sisters to a Leafs game. Seems I am stuck here. For the first time I am looking forward to when autumn leaves and winter begins. They do not move as fast in the winter or at least I hope the people interviewed on the Zurvivalist KZOM Radio were right about that. I would not rake at all if the damn zombies wouldn’t insist on hiding under the leaves.

Pau

Outside it’s cold; it rains

“Sorry, we cannot go for a walk “- I explain to my daughter –“ It’s autumn: leaves fall of the trees”

I must bath her, prepare the dinner… She is hungry and tired. Me too.

Better, I think as I see the pile of work office that I’ve brought to home to check tonight.

Then, I realize I forgot to buy the dinner; luckily the shops are still open.

I tell her to stay alone: “Only ten minutes”.

But as I get home I see flying through the window the office reports while she shouts happy: “See mum… autumn has arrived!”

Chris the Nuclear Kid

I smack down the report. “I can’t do this! It’s just too stupid!” I exclaim.

“Too dang bad!” my boss Joe said. “If you aren’t going to work, then you won’t get paid, and you’re going to get fired!”

“Then fire me because I’m not going to do this dumb work. If I don’t have to do this, I’ll be happy!” I shouted.

Joe’s face got red. “Well, then, you’re fired! Get out!”

I walked out the door and felt the breeze blowing leaves across the road.

I wondered what I should do, then realized: Nothing.

So I just walked.

Steven the Nuclear Man

She left me.

In hindsight, I should have seen it coming – she started to wear makeup. First it was subtle hints, then bright reds and yellows. She began refusing my gifts. She just didn’t pay attention – her focus was elsewhere. Our conversations grew short as she turned… brittle.

Then, a bright clear October day, just before the first possibility of a frost, she left. She twirled off to adventure and unknown lands, a dancer spinning away from her partner.

It happens the same way every time.

I look at the spruce across the yard, and I wonder if it’s me.

Paladin

The leaves are green.
He stands resolute, calm, unmoved by any trouble. He scares away the monsters and stands tall through any storm.
The leaves are yellow.
He protects me from what’s coming, though I see no danger. I know there won’t be as long as he’s here.
The leaves are brown.
The immoveable is withering. The immortal is aging. The endless will soon end. He can protect me from anything. But not this.
The leaves are gone.
They say he will be asleep for a long time. Maybe forever. But I’m not afraid.
The leaves will be green again.

Norval Joe

Fly Paper Boy lay on his back with his arms spread out wide and felt like he was floating. But not in the water, he didn’t feel wet.
Light filtered through the leaves of the oak trees that leaned out over the edge of the cliff from which he had just plummeted.
Was this heaven? Was he dead? He couldn’t remember the painful impact with the jagged rocks in the river below.
“Hey Kid,” a gruff voice called. “Get over here before someone sees you out there.”
Chagrined, he crawled across the safety net to the security of a cave.

Jeff Hite

“It is beautiful don’t you think?” Bill said as leaves fell around them.
“Well if you like watching things going dormant in order to survive the hardest part of the year beautiful, I guess so.” Jill sniped.
“Do you have to be so negative?”
“Come on, enough of this. We have things to do, and watching leaves fall is not one of them, now or we’ll miss our window”
Bill Breathed in the simulated cold air one more time, and Imagined he could smell the wet leaves. Then he followed Jill’s lead striping naked and climbing into the hibernation chamber.

Planet Z

The sergeant counts sixty and shouts GO!
I run into the woods, tracking my prey with broken branches and crushed leaves in the mud.
Every thirty seconds I stop, listen, look around, and begin the chase again.
I hear a splash.
I stop, drop to the ground, pistol cocked and ready.
A splash ahead, a crack of a rock against a tree trunk behind me, and a car horn right next to me.
Decoy chips. Clever.
I roll to the side as the robot fires into the ground where I was.
Two shots, green light flashes.
The sergeant yells PASS!

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Mustache

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas
Tom
Chris Munroe
Paladin
Zackmann
Steven the Nuclear Man
Danny
Norval Joe
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

Thomas

She had a beautiful set of mustaches. Many considered her facial décor off-putting, but she had such gorgeous features and long, auburn hair. When she was a teen, she used peroxide to hide the black hairs that had just begun to peek out of her upper lip. One day, in her haste to catch the school bus, she used too much peroxide and burned her lip. She vowed that she would never do it again, and in spite of what her parents and teachers said, she groomed her beautiful mustaches, combed them and waxed them. The boys were envious.

##

The mustache was very unhappy. Hosted on the grisly face of a man that submerged it in a mug of warm beer on so many occasions, and suffering the indignity of ignored, crusty secretions that were so common during the cold, winter months. Worse, the hours following a bout of vigorous lovemaking with his obese girlfriend. The mustache vowed to do something to escape captivity. Each morning, when the mustached man awoke, he discovered his mustache growing, and growing thicker and darker on a different part of his face. Sometimes, under his lip, sometimes in the middle of his forehead.

Tom

You might find this hard to believe but I was born with a mustache. Not some glorified milk-mark, we’re talking major growth. Some folk got a photo of themselves buck naked on a rug, I got a waxed hand-bar. The nuns wanted me to shave it off in second grade, but my parents doubled the tuition payment, got to be a Wiseman that year. In 8th grade I grew a beard and played Jesus in the passion play. Last year the chemo cleared all the hair off my head, the mustache was having none of that fuck you very much

Chris Munroe

Five days into growing a moustache I looked like a pedophile. I’ll own that.

The percentage of people who actually suit one, after all, is frighteningly small. Still, I commit to what I do, so the ‘stache was staying.

Until you got me drunk, waited for me to pass out and shaved it.

The next day, I faced my still-moustachioed friends, clean-shaven.

Humiliated.

You thought I’d forgive this betrayal.

I’ll never forgive. Nor will I forget.

I’ll always remember, the fifth of Movember. The moustaches, treason and plot. I see no good reason moustaches and treason should ever be forgot.

Paladin

Frost gathered on his mustache as it often did this time of year. It wasn’t quite cold enough for snow, but plenty enough for his breath to make phantoms in the night air. As usual, the stark autumn chill did little to keep the streets clear this night. The next wave approached. Searching flashlights preceeced the semi-ordered mob, advancing upon his position in a vague formation as he pulled his mask down into place, grinning beneath it. They fanned out as they approached his position, shouting their mighty battle cry in unison: “Trick or treat!”

Zackmann

Snidely, that you?
That is Reverend Whiplash now.
So how are Dudley and Nell Fenwich?
Sad story. Nell ran away south of the border with Horse and they were married in Florida. They got caught up in a big legal battle to stay married when Florida law changed. They are celebrating their marriage three times a night which would be good if not that they were doing it on stage in a bar in Mexico to pay court costs and send money to Nell’s grandparents who live on a ranch in Alberta and take care of their three centaur children.
zackmann

Is that a paper-doll book? I haven’t seen one of those since we cleaned grandmas attic.
Oh yes, it’s The Fump I Want to Be Weird Al Choose Your Own Adventure book. Although Lawrence Simon is not a fumper the first doll is him, a fan service. Due to the success of his punch out paper mustaches book the company decided to try the paper-dolls. Do you think Shoe box looks better with the mullet or Absalom length hair? How does Carla look with Devo’s beard and Glasses? If enough sell they will introduce lesser know musicians like The Beatles.

Steven the Nuclear Man

I put my arm around the girl’s shoulder, guide her toward the funhouse door.

“Daddy, I’m not sure-”

“It’s fine, pumpkin.” The endearment is ash in my mouth. “Nothing bad can happen to you in there,” I lie.

“Mommy hasn’t come out yet- ”

I bite the words off. “It’s fine.”

“Daddy, you’re acting funny, like that Star Trek episode where they came from a para… para…”

“One, please,” I shout to the figure at the funhouse door and push the girl toward him.

She goes to her doom, and I rub my newly-bare chin, thankful this dimension invented razors.

Danny

I put on my Groucho Marx Mustache, Nose, and Glasses, expecting to get a big laugh out of all my friends at the World Builders association over on Flying Island during our Evening Hunt. Then I noticed someone had filled the moustache with rancid mustard. I tried to pound it out, but ended up with a fist full of mustard. Dammit! Then it started to pour rain, why am I working outside? If I only had a hammer. Then a Wise Man walked by with his large umbrella, stating, “Hey, I didn’t become a wise man dealing with your silly problems, I’ll keep on walking.”

Norval Joe

Hosmer sat silently on the third row of the chapel as the minister asked, “If there are any here, speak now”. But it was already too late.
Tears rolled off his cheeks and dripped from his wordless lips as his true love said, “I do.”
He’d sneezed and sent his fake mustache flying over the heads of the guests.
It was fake and everyone knew. He had a different one for every occasion. Broad and dashing for romance, thick and bushy for confidence, narrow and black for dominance.
What no one knew, was, without it, he couldn’t speak a word.

TJ

I should’ve expected this sort of thing. I mean, I know my aversion to
long-distance relationships is grounded in legitimate objections. It
encourages idealistic fantasies, glosses over too many realities and in
the end, I’m stuck here so if she can’t move then what’s the
point? That said… OK, case in point. beep Amy, 49, is a medical
transcriptionist. She matched you on 11 of 27 eMusicalChairs.com
criteria – less than half, charming – including breathing carbon
based life form, music, humor, pets, birth order, favorite shade of
green and mustache. I don’t really want them matching me on facial
hair, thanks.

Planet Z

I’ve written a draft of a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, where you pick how the story progresses based on your choices.

The lead character is a spy who uses a bunch of high-tech disguise mustaches to choose from.

A lockpick mustache.

A laser mustache.

A boomerang mustache.

A mustache that becomes an infalatable raft.

And so on.

The best part about this book is that it’ll come with stick-on mustaches the kid can put on when the character switches mustaches.

It won’t get published, though. They say it discriminates against girls.

I call bullshit. You should see my Grandmother.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Coffee

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas
Paladin
Chris Munroe
Tom
Gideon
Abernathy
Jeff
Zackmann
Danny
Norval Joe
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

Thomas

The waitress set our coffee down. We both poured the cream and emptied the sugar packets into the hot brew, stirring and banging the spoon on the rim of the heavy, white mug. Ted dropped his spoon into the cup, and it disappeared. He fished around, and couldn’t believe what he saw. He dropped the salt shaker into the cup. Whoosh. It was gone. Then I dropped some coins and more utensils into the cup. Whoosh. Ted dropped in the bottle of Tobasco sauce and the little, sugar packet holder. Whoosh. We were at the home of the bottomless cup.
###

The coffee enema was the low point of our stay at the Golden Globes Spa in West Hollywood. As the attendant gathered the equipment, she joked, and asked if we wanted cream and sugar. My girlfriend chuckled. I didn’t think it was funny, because taking my morning brew in the keester from an old Mexican woman wasn’t appealing. We signed up for aromatherapy, salt glows and the loofah scrub. The attendant left us, perturbed, as I was grumbling through the whole procedure. I didn’t notice the little Mexican flag sticking out of my behind until I got up to dress.

Paladin

It was coffee. Just coffee. Later it might be a dark crowded room and a great silver screen. It might be a long stretch of empty highway and wind blowing our hair back. Perhaps soft murmurs and nervous, anxious, eager exploration. Maybe somewhere private. Maybe somewhere public. The ending may come in mere minutes. Or some hours. Or several years. It could end in this cafe or on my doorstep or hers, or on some porch in some future. But the beginning is here, with coffee. Just coffee.

Chris/Munsi

I’ve had three cups today, and I’ll hit Starbucks on the way to work.

Latte, I think. Venti.

There’ll be a pot waiting when I arrive, and when it’s gone I’ll honestly try to remember to start a fresh one. It’s inconsiderate to drink it all without replacing it for my coworkers.

It’s just hard to remember things sometimes. Gets harder every day.

I hate the taste of coffee, it’s like hot tar in my mouth. But I’ll choke back as much as I can.

Because they come when I sleep, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them.

Tom

We at Black Tie Industries are proud to announce an addition to our beverage line. The power of chocolate, the calming effect of caffeine and the sure pleasure of cocaine the chemists of Caleb Consortiums have chained the best of these along a running chain of CH3s to give you Chocolate flavored Cocaine Coffee. Get twice the stuff you need to get done in half the time. And all with out losing that mild awareness that the collective forces of the universe are conspiring to ruin your life. CHocoCoCo in the 64oz can, have two, or get left in the dust

Gideon

I interviewed for a job with a software company yesterday.
I think I did well on my part of the interview.
At least well enough for Joe, my prospective boss, to start selling me on the company.
He explained the well designed benefits package and gave me a tour of the offices,
At the end of the tour I had one question, “Where are the coffee machines? I did not see one during our tour”.
Joe took me back to the cubicles and pointed, “See?”
Yup, coffee. Delivered via IV tubing to every cubicle.
I’m going to like it here.

Abernathy

Stumbling into the kitchen, Willie greets the coffee pot with sleep crusted eyes. It’s where she keeps the instant coffee now. She doesn’t brew her own java nowadays. She had turned into a lazy person at fifty four. The coffee a symbol of her life now. Instant. She needed the ritual of having a cup or five. She ran the kitchen faucet until it became considerably hot. Scooped out two tall mounds full of the instant and stirred them in her cup. Tossed the spoon into the sink brimming with dirty dishes, Drinking down the the coffee and her failures.

Jeff

I sat quietly, legs folded awkwardly, and focused my mind on the Zen koan.

As much as I tried I could not untangle the meaning hidden within the simple words. I even tried not trying by focusing my mind on the various muscles of my body; using that intensity of concentration to empty my mind in hopes of reaching sunyata.

I complained to my teacher that emptiness would not come and he reminded me that I need to unfocus and concentrate on nothingness. Seeing my frustration he mumbled something about samsara and endless suffering.

I punched him in the throat.

Zackmann

“ Why did you buy that, you don’t even drink coffee?” she said.
He replied “Was it not you who asked me to go to the After Coffee Day Sale? Since they switched to thermos style coffee makers at work they have less coffee makers that I have to worry about being neglected and starting fires. I was amazed at how long the pots kept drinks warm. Of course unlike work we will not need two dozen Thermos coffee pots.”
“Dearest when you put a hot thing it a thermos in stays hot, cold things stays cold, how does it know?”
zackmann

Back in the late seventies the Canadian government spent millions to see if extreme amounts of coffee could give a person superpowers. They chose a child and gave him so much coffee he that he became know as The Encaffeinated One. As you may suspect he did not gain superpowers but he became weird. Well he did not actually became weird as obsessed with weird things and interesting ideas. He also had an urge to share them with the world. The young man first discovered the wonders of radio then podcasting.He now lives at The Weird Show dot Com

Danny

“You’re STIll drinking coffee? AT THIS HOUR!?!? The sheer volume of her question imposed the unreasonable state of mind she whipped herself into. My girlfriend was hell bent on blaming this self-imposed state of mind on yours truly. Unwilling to accept fault for my addiction, I responded curtly, “What!? I’m only on my 4th cup of coffee today. I fail to see what you are getting yourself so worked up about!” In hindsight, at 2:30 in the afternoon, I probably should have responded differently, since I was on the brink of finishing my 4th pot of coffee. Oh well.

Norval Joe

“They’re following us,” Esmerelda Flinch, supposedly of the Women’s Trade Federation said. “We need to throw them off your track.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Fly Paper Boy asked.
“The cops,” She said, “They’re on to you. When we pass through this tunnel, we’ll slow down, you jump out and run down the hill to the cafe and wait for us. It may take some time, and you’ll need to stay on your guard and ready. So buy some coffee and stay alert.”
He jumped when told to, and ran, off a cliff and plummeted toward the jagged rocks below.

TJ

Ellen from Chicago, Tanya in Baltimore, Amber from… Surrey. Oh, just
up the road here… wait. Surrey.. ENGLAND? *dials Hi, eMusicalChairs?
TJ here. I’ve been looking at these suggested matches and I said I
wanted matches within 30 miles of here. “Are you really willing to
overlook the love of your life if she’s more than 30 miles away?”
*slurps coffee I dunno, are you really asking me to define a metric
you’re going to then proceed to completely ignore? “But for optimum
compatability you may need to…” I’ve done the long-distance thing.
Narrow these search parameters please. Thank you.

Planet Z

The best part of waking up isn’t Folger’s in your cup.
There isn’t any best part to waking up, really.
Especially when the ship’s navigation computer thinks we’ve arrived back home and we’re in the middle of deep empty space.
The Cryogenic Bends hurt like a motherfucker, no matter how many green pills you take or algae packs you suck on.
Every move, every thought, even just sitting still is agony.
Try doing four-dimensional astrogation by hand on top of all that.
Worst of all, the only coffee is in the terraforming module, waiting to be planted on Earth Two.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Mirror

And we’ve got stories by:

Craig T.
Thomas
Tom
Gideon
Jeff
Zackmann
Chris Munroe
Paladin
Steven the Nuclear Man
Norval Joe
TJ
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

Craig

“Look at you, you asshole. Look how fat you’ve gotten. What a gut. Turn sideways. Holy shit, look at that. You look like a bag of flour with little straw arms. Do some weights. Or go for a run. Or just get your fat ass up off the couch. I bet you’re tired just from standing here. Look, you’re sweating and you’re all flushed. Look at those chins, that wispy beard isn’t fooling anyone. I’m disgusted. No wonder women never talk to you, tubby.“

Andrew turned away from the mirror and the hurtful truths his reflection had said.

Thomas

When Lamont and Beverly checked into the Notell they had every intention of making a long lunch out of their tryst, before going back to work at Walmart. The east wall of the motel room was a mirror. Excitedly, they got right down to business. A few minutes into the fumbling and frantic foreplay, they could hear laughter and catcalls from the room next door. Lamont’s member flagged, and Beverly was too ruffled to continue. The room next door was sold out. The Moose Lodge rented the whole room, set up card chairs and were watching through the one-way glass.
##

Her views mirrored mine. Although I was not a reporter for The Times, Sylvia Knickerbocker’s column echoed my exquisite taste and refined upbringing. Her latest instruction on table settings, the placement of the flatware, the direction of the desert fork, and the position of the water goblet just were sooooo perfect. I referred to her latest column when I hosted a small luncheon for the Lady’s Auxiliary Board. Blythe, Ruth and Babs were impressed, and I’d hope they would stay after the meal and share a few tokes of the hookah before we got to work planning the charity benefit.

Tom

You think you got a sucky job try spending your days pandering to an over hill diva whom demand her vain self reflection needs bolstering by you. No I’m not Paris Hilton’s accounted. I’m Armando De La Sortoes Magic Mirror par excelente. I speak only the truth in an oracle of Delphic way, a sort of cocaine speed mumble. It keeps me from going to pieces. I’m working on a Joaquin Phoenix. How do you like the beard? Nearly slipped the other day screw up the order of: White and Snow. Damn Queen dragged a diamond across my eye. Bitch

Gideon

I loved the amazing work Hayley Mills did in “The Parent Trap”,
especially the scene where she and her ‘twin sister’ pretended they were
posing in front of a mirror. Many weekend afternoons were spent with my
sisters trying to emulate that act, matching poses and facial expressions.
Although it works better when you are twins of the same gender, it was still
fun and a fond memory.

50 years later I have decided to try it again. But I want to do it right.
I need someone as my identical twin, my “Hayley”.

Unfortunately, Haley Barbour is not available.

Jeff

I lean heavily on the bathroom sink, looking into the basin as if searching for answers.

I look up into the mirror and stare into my reflection for a long time. I feel a burning sensation in my eyes that I try to blink away. That is when the tears start to form and flow from my eyes and over my tired cheeks, dripping slowly into the sink below.

How did this happen? I lost my job. I lost my car. I lost my house. I lost my children. I lost my way.

At least I still have my tears.

Zackmann

When I look into the mirror is it really me?
Yesterday I looked and saw a young muscular man with sun bleached hair.
This morning when I shave I see a fat middle aged man with monster eyebrows having some grey eyebrow hairs sticking out at angles to the brown. At least most of my grey is in my whiskers and goes away as I shave. Now to put some rubbing alcohol on my face and grab my phone. Hello maintenance would you please check my electronic mirror. I believe the See Yourself as You Think You Look feature broken.

Munsi/Chris Munroe

I don’t know if I’m the evil twin.

I mean, I don’t feel evil and I have all my memories from before the teleportation accident, so that should make me the original, right?

On the other hand, does anybody self-identify as evil?

And my twin did also claim to be the original. Though now he’s dead. Tell you what, I’ll let you cast the tie-breaking vote.

Sound good to you?

Promise me you won’t scream for help, and I’ll take the gag out of your mouth so you can tell me which one of us you think’s the evil twin…

Paladin

Do you ever look in the mirror and wonder what the other guy is thinking? Probably not, but you probably don’t have a mirror like mine. There’s more to see than just me. At first it was little things, like a towel or a bottle out of place. Then the wall was the wrong color. One day there was a fire. One day there were distant trees shaking, and not from the wind. Every day I’m there looking at myself. I wonder if he looks at me and wonders what I’m thinking.

Steven

He stares at me, tied and gagged in my basement, and I remember.

The first time I heard my father’s voice in my own laugh. The first time I realized I was turning into my dad.

This — thing, clone, son, whatever — is different.

It stole my mannerisms. It’s a distorted mimicry. This thing doesn’t think. It just pretends. It thrusts itself into the nests of our hearts. Like a cuckoo, it shoves everything else aside to fall to the ground. And then it feeds.

The thing isn’t like me. I see the difference. It’s a funhouse reflection.

Bullets shatter mirrors.

Norval Joe

Rudy Giuliani looked in the mirror and didn’t like what he saw. He saw nothing.
“I’ve faded away,” he muttered and tried to think of anything he had accomplished in the last ten years, since the fatefull 911.
Nothing but propaganda and double talk.
“Change is not a destination, just as hope is not a strategy,” and “It’s about time law enforcement got as organized as organized crime”
“Who writes this crap,” he asked himself.
Wanting to do something worthwhile, he did a quick internet search, opened his word processor and began to type, “Lawrence Simon looked in the mirror….

TJ

No, I recognize the eMusicalChairs service is free to look, but I wanted
to get a sense of who else is actually looking before I give you… what
is this, $277 for the first three months? I’ve got to pay
eMusicalChairs the equivalent of like five or six first dates up front
to “meet” people I don’t know even exist. You could’ve hired
profile trolls to create fake profiles that sound too good to be true
until you get my money and then *beep* it’s Svetlana from Warsaw with
profile closeup of wart in mirror and that’s it. Alright… fine.

Planet Z

I asked the priest where the monster was.

He said “In the mirror.”

“When you look at it, or when I look at it?”

“Anyone.”

So, I looked at the mirror, and saw the monster there.

He was furry, blue, and had big round white eyes.

“This isn’t a mirror,” I said. “It’s a painting of Grover the Muppet.”

The priest stepped next to me, looked at the painting, and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I thought that was me,” said the priest.

He rubbed his big red paws over his fur and left to light some vespers candles.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 Run

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas
Tom
Chris Munroe
Zackmann
Chris the Nuclear Kid
TJ
Liadona Rau
Norval Joe
Daniel
Planet Z

… and a musical madness constructed by Steven the Nuclear Man!

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

THOMAS

The run led around the gnarly toe gap, through shin promontory, up ankle tattoo, behind white bulging calf, across knotty knee, and on to smooth thigh and the hidden valley. Hidden valley was closed now, so time passed as the run ceased moving and waited for repairs. Eventually, there was a change, and all runs were at a standstill. The evening came, and another run began at the south side of hidden valley this time. The run zigged and zagged through forbidden territory, and eventually came to a halt near the giant fingers between the valley and bruised knee.

##

It was his second dry run. This time, the solid propellant hadn’t combusted properly, and the burns on his backside hadn’t yet healed. He had not computed the mass flux and pressure of the combustion gases generated as a function of the surface area and burn rate, so Todd sautéed most of the skin on his behind and caused a fire, burning most of the trees and out-buildings on his Uncle Kenny’s farm. He’d try again, and had two more weeks at science camp before he had to get back home to Austin and the first day of middle school.

TOM

I run. The dust is gaining. It’s dark. Which way to the river? I stop hearing the screaming. If I stop I will… I go down hard. Was it pole or the back of a car, I can’t tell. How could it get darker? I get up. I try to run. Moving is harder, breathing is harder. Around my neck my camera holds the Pulitzer Prize image. My sister will accept that prize for me. It is black and I am running. An NYFD officer found me on the 2rd day. He can’t save me but he saves my camera.

CHRIS

You killed her, and didn’t know what to do, so you ran. And you kept running.

You fled town, changed your name and moved halfway across the country, but even then your past was right behind you. You couldn’t stop looking over your shoulder, couldn’t stop running.

It consumed you, became your whole life, your whole self. Running…

Eventually you even ran the Boston marathon. Did yourself proud, you came in fifth overall.

When the TV coverage went out, somebody from your old life recognized you. You were arrested three days later.

Never lose track of what you’re running from.

ZACKMANN

“Did we run the tests on the new product?” the boss asked. “Our new scientist promised no animal testing.” answered Chuck “Is that why I am no longer hearing the protesters?” said the boss. “I am a little worried that he is not a humanist and doesn’t considered the protesters animals but also a not a humanitarian.” Boss says “You sound crazy. Doctor did you do the clinical tests for the new medication?” “yes it was wonderful seeing the allergic rations on those peasants. I mean protesters” “Boss, I so told you not to hire someone calling himself Doctor Despicable ”

CHRIS THE NUCLEAR KID

“Red light!” Tom shouted. I, along with five others, stop. A kid named Joe stumbles. “Joe! Your out!” shouted Tom.

“Aw, shucks!” Joe said. He walked over to the side where the others who lost stood.

“Green light!” Tom shouted. I ran. “Yellow light!” ”Red light!” Tom shouted. I stopped. “Purple light!” Tom shouted. John and Pete ran. “John, Pete… You’re out!” Tom Shouted.

It was just me and Jacob. “Green light!” Tom Shouted. We ran, Jacob taking the lead. But not for long. In a sudden burst of speed I ran past him, Tom, and the finish.

I won.

TJ

OK, so I’ve taken all these surveys asking me for favorite movies,
favorite vacations, favorite shades of green, when is this annoying
Facebook survey going to turn into actual dating? *beep* Emily is
interested in you! Oh she is, is she? Emily is a 34-year-old bartender
who loves to laugh and reads Proust… well, now I’m laughing… Emily
is also into extreme sports, and has been catatonic since a traumatic
bungee incident in 2007. She enjoys watching “Weekend at Bernie’s,” test
patterns, and anything that’s put in front of her. So that would be a
run. Run like the wind.

LIADONA

Heel toe. Heel toe. Heel toe.

The mantra burned itself into her head.

Heel toe. Heel toe.

Over and over as she pushed herself further than she had ever pushed before. This time, however, she wasn’t racing herself or a friend. No, this time she was racing Gaia. Mother was mad and she was letting everyone know.

Heel toe. Heel toe.

“Just focus on the mantra and not where the path leads and maybe, just maybe, I can make Athena’s temple. Sanctuary.” Iona kept running, passing mossy rocks and trees.

Then a flash.

Lightning moves faster than a runner it seems.

NORVAL JOE

The Escalade drove through suburban neighborhoods and into the countryside.
Esmerelda Filch stared at Fly Paper Boy as if she expected him to speak. When he didn’t, she slid over close to him. As she did her skirt hiked up, exposing much of her thighs.
Fly Paper Boy stared, wide eyed.
“Do you find me attractive?” she asked in a husky voice.
“You’re as old as my mother,” he replied.
“Do you love your mother?” she asked and winked.
“Yeah, but not like that,” he exclaimed. He knew he should run, but was afraid to jump from the moving SUV.

DANIEL

“Run.” It licked its lips.

I didn’t hesitate, not that I stood a chance. Why did I think I was ready to summon a demon? Behind me, I could feel the rupture in reality as it pierced my feeble containment circle.

Running through the outer doorway, I felt a surge of hope – my destination was within view. I should’ve known better. Mere seconds from the church door, I slammed into an invisible wall.

Dazed, I looked around to see the fires of Hell on all sides. The demon stood before me. “This is how you create a summoning circle, child.”

PLANET Z

Long ago, sports were “clean” of drugs and implants.

But over time, the line between clean and cheating got blurry.

Those medicines an athlete used for recovering from injury made them faster and stronger.

A pitcher with a robotic arm.

A blind racecar driver with camera eyes.

A Navy punter stepped on a land mine. New Cyberlegs.

They said it was discrimination.

And the courts agreed.

Pretty soon, the performance enhancement manufacturers got into the consumer markets.

Run faster.

Play longer.

Hit harder.

What a bunch of crap.

Besides, I’ve got ballet tickets.

Swan lake, with human-swan hybrids.

Wanna go?

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Eighty-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 PICK TWO

Hunger
Minecraft
Lamp
The heart is a lonely hunter
Butter
The End of the World as we know it
Schaefer Beer
Slip
You
And Justice For All…
Dating
Comet

How about voting for your favorites?

Or, if the poll is broken, just go to everybody’s site and heap much love upon them (since nobody ever leaves comments here, you know.)

Thomas
Tom
Chris Munroe
Danny
TJ
Zackmann
Daniel
Norval Joe
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.

---

THOMAS

Lamont J. Tardbean read the BLOG stating butter was good for nourishing shiny hair. He dressed and headed for the Korean mom and pop market. The Kwans sold individual, quarter-pound sticks for two dollars. He took the cube home, mashed it into a bowl of brown sugar, made some toast points, and spreading his concoction on each piece, watched Laverne and Shirley re-runs until he got up to check his hair. He noticed his mane was shiny, not realizing he had run his butter-ridden hands through his do more than a dozen times in anticipation of his new, suave, coiffure.
##

She gave me the slip. I had always admired her beautiful undergarments, including her collection of stainless steel thongs and rattan brassieres. The slip was woven out of cat fur and yak tail. Deborah had twenty trunks that traveled with her on tours, and fifteen of them held her unmentionables, that we all seemed to talk about and mention all the time. She was classy, and after giving up her vows in the Church of The Gooey Death and Discount House of Worship, her new calling was the Alternative, Deconstructed, Transposed, Texas Cheerleaders – the trendiest girl band in the Southwest.

TOM

The boys down in marketing came up with this, they’re rather proud of it. “It’s the End of the Word as we know it so drink more Schaefer Beer.” COE Walter Lamp glanced out the window at the bright midnight glow of the in-coming comet known as the Lonely Hunter. He slipped out of the butter leather conference chairs to address the board. “I was born with a hunger just as the strong as the next guy, which dates me, but using global annihilation to sell beer smack of minecrafting. You got anything better? Justice for all drink more …

MUNSI

After closing night, the theater didn’t need it.

Seven foot statues of actors are pretty useless once the show’s done, and heavy to boot.

I, on the other hand, always wanted an enormous statue of myself. The opportunity was too good to pass up.

I worried what you guys’d say when I brought it home, but you both loved it. I didn’t realize how much until I returned from work the next day.

You’d turned it’s eyes into lamps.

Now it stares light down upon me from behind the couch as I read.

The best part is: This story’s true.

Danny

Schaefer Beer, the beer you have when your having more than one. Wow, a beer that knows me more than just intimately. It would be the end of the world as we know it if I could not buy case after case of Schaefer Beer. Wait, I live in Florida, you can’t buy Schaefer Beer here. There is no Justice for all if you live in the state of Florida, all constitutional rights just Slip away, thanks Governor Scott, YOU bastard! Dating in Florida is even worse, unless you have a dating convicted Felon fetish. I just want a Schaefer Beer.

TJ

Entering my eMusicalChairs profile… tap tap tap… Pisces…
more of a dog person… Personal philosophy, something
about the heart is a lonely hunter… Things to do on a
first date… yes, yes, yes, yes, and oh, yes please.
Well, now it’s contractual. Photos… hmm… 90 percent of
our clients won’t even look at a profile without photos.
Well, in that it’s a requirement, none of them will. OK,
picture of me, picture of me, picture from the Internet
of “me” winning the Superbowl… done. Complete your profile?
Seeks female. I’m sure I said that already. And… send.
The adventure begins!

ZACKMANN

It is the end of the world as we now it because we both gave up dating since the heart is a
lonely hunter. Both for the love. For me my wife. For Guido his insatiable hunger for Butter . I
see the woman under a lamp selling hot buttered popcorn and smiling at Guido and think maybe
there really is justice for all. She adjusts her slip as Guido tells how a comet full of platinum
fell in his grandparents hay field. They meet after the movie for some toast, Shaefer Beer, and
Minecraft. Guido says “I love you, butter.”

I saw the pick two subject in the weekly challenge and wondered if that exclamation point meant
you should only pick two, exclusively. Not that it would be the end of the world as we know it if I
used more than two prompts. Would I be dating myself if I say I remember when that was a tittle
of a new song? I am sure that mariner guy knows on pick two topics week someone will try to
slip in more than necessary wouldn’t you? Had I any sense I would turn off the lamp and go to
bed.

DANIEL

With the chain-link fence between us, I felt safe enough to study this lone zombie. There was hunger in its eyes, hunger and emptiness.

I watched it for a few moments longer before drawing my revolver. I took careful aim, and snarled under my breath as I pulled the trigger. “Fucking zombies. That comet had to cause Z-Day on the anniversary of 9-11, didn’t it.”

Still, if you had to admit anything good about them, the zombies did bring humanity together. Who cares if you’re a Muslim or Christian so long as you’re still alive? That’s all that matters anymore…

NORVAL JOE

The doorbell rang. Fly Paper Boy jumped up before his sister could.
He opened the door just a crack to see who was there.
“You,” he said to Esmerelda Filch, who stood casually on the porch. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to help you,” she said. “You can wait here, and go back to prison, or come with me.”
He glanced quickly over his shoulder. Nobody was watching and he slipped out the door.
A black Escalade idled at the curb. The passenger door swung open as they approached.
“Good,” Esmerelda purred. “We have some, errands, to run.”

PLANET Z

Franklin Washington was the greatest chef in the world.
He was also completely blind.
Lost his eyes serving in Iraq.
He’d been a good cook before the war. Somehow, he got even better after.
Despite the blindness.
Everything was placed around the kitchen by his assistant just the way he expected it.
Knives, spices, pans, skillets… everything was exactly where he expected it.
Like a well-oiled machine.
Things were going great… until a butter pat fell on the floor.
He slipped on it. Fell on his knife.
Or, so his assistant says.
Not a bad chef himself.
Close the case.