Weekly Challenge – Page 72 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #340 – Chain

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 Forty, 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 Chain.

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

The next weekly challenge is a PICK TWO.

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

Ted bought chainmail from eBay to wear while he cut wood. Thinking it would protect him from the sharp teeth of the chain of his 22 inch Stihl, he over-confidently started his woodcutting chore after a very restless night of sleep, and a couple of shots of brown stuff at breakfast to stop his hands from shaking. You can easily guess the rest of the story. The chainmail worked fine, when he slipped while moving a heavy branch. The saw’s teeth bounced when they struck the metal chain, directing the saw upwards to execute an impromptu rhinoplasty on Ted’s nose.

The chain of events began when the Fosselbachs’ pestered their pet cockatoo, insisting that it learn how to relieve itself when held over a waste bin. Following a week of relentless coaxing and wheedling, the cockatoo lifted off and flapped around the kitchen, knocking a bottle of oil onto the stovetop. The oil erupted into flames, catching the cupboards on fire, and spreading to Mrs. Fosselbach’s collection of Indian baskets displayed on the kitchen walls. The cockatoo sacrificed a few of his tail feathers, but the Fosselbach’s lost half of their new doublewide and any hope of potty-training their bird.

The Weenie Chain, celebrated the hotdog, invented by a German butcher in the 1600’s, by opening another franchise operation at the West end of town. They hoped to get a lot of customers that shopped at Wally World, nearby. Weenie’s specialized in over 100 kinds of tube steaks, including steamed, charcoal broiled, stuffed, grilled, griddled, deep-fried, and bacon wrapped. They imported the “red snappers” from Maine, famous for their neon colored casings, and “hots” from New York – made from pork, veal and maple sawdust. Weenie’s sponsored eating contests at the local retirement home and were responsible for several, fatal accidents.

When Aretha sings Chain of Fools, I am reminded of the governing board that has attempted to command our local technology club. The elected gang for the past year have driven a majority of the regular members away by their choice of speakers and the lack of attention to detail at meetings. The sound system is never set up properly, the LCD projector is always out of focus, and the PowerPoint slides are a visual dirge. When asked if I would run again for office, I said that I would rather have my spleen eaten by rats, as I slept.

JEFFREY

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors
by Jeffrey Fischer

The chain-link fence separated our playground from the upscale neighborhood. The younger kids would sit on the swings and soar above the fence before falling back to our side. Older kids would kick a ball on the grass, or play basketball on the paved court, being careful the ball didn’t sail over the fence, as it was a long walk to get the ball back.

Once we showed up to find a gap in the fence where someone had cut the chain links. The hole was repaired that day. Afterward, we noticed a security guard patrolling “their” side.

We liked to pretend that the fence existed to keep them out of our playground.

MICHAEL

Daisychain,

By Michael Duturbure

“Aren’t the flowers pretty today?”

“Billy, what am I to you?”

“Urgh…Why do you always have to spoil the mood?! Can’t we just enjoy this…”

“Come on…tell me”

“Well….I’m your best friend, I’m your lover, I’m your ….anything”

“Hahaha That’s soooo adorable….? Come… you have to meet my parents”

“Uh uh….Not til you tell you tell them about me… your dad’s kinda scary, what do you think he will say”

“I don’t care anymore…. he doesn’t scare me…………ummm, what are you doing there, is that daisy chain?”

“No,I know it’s not the real thing …..buuut…..… Tom…..will you take this to marry me…”

“Get up you goof before I knock ya!”

“Is that a no?”

“You’re sooooo tacky…hahaha yes..of course I will”

LIZZIE

Numbers roared in his head, louder and louder. He looked at the phone and repeated them incessantly. 100 links of distance, the carbon atom, and the hotels, theaters, restaurants, banks, his mind was filled with an excess of information that no one comprehended. “Yes? Yes. Ok, I’ll tell him,” but he wouldn’t. He hung up trying to stifle the noise. What was once comforting was now drowning him. This obsessively loud chain of numbers paralyzed him in a motionless repetition of helplessness. Make me a prisoner no more, he wished, whispering at the mountains above, hoping to beat his demons.

MUNSI

Chains

By Christopher Munroe

If you think about it, in a way we’re all in chains.

Chained by self-imposed obligations to one another, to notions of family and friendship. Chained to jobs we only took to pay student loans we thought we’d need to get jobs better than the ones we were eventually forced to take. Chained by outdated notions of morality.

Yes, we fancy ourselves free, but in a way we’re all in chains.

But in another, more literal way, only you are in chains, here in my soundproof basement.

Now, make yourself comfortable while I head upstairs to fetch my straight razor…

SERENDIPITY

Congratulations!

This letter will bring you unlimited good fortune – but only if you make twenty-five copies and send them on to your friends within the next day!

DO NOT BREAK THE CHAIN!

Breaking the chain will bring you terrible misfortune!

If you do break the chain, we will hunt you down, come to your home with baseball bats and very sharp knives and make sure that you never walk again!

Incidentally, how is married life? We’re all very much looking forward to seeing you both at Christmas… please give us a call soon.

All our love,

Mum and dad.

BOTGIRL

“Chained” by Botgirl Questi

I used to believe that my mind was free from gravity . . .

that the pull of Mother Earth had no dominion

in the realm of awareness, thought and identity.

For a time, I seemed to have escaped both the dictates of biology,

and the laws and constraints of the atomic world.

I raced faster than light beyond the known universe,

danced in the silent vacuum,

and stared into the face of a hundred suns.

But all the while there trailed behind me

A chain of perfect weave.

Unseen or mayhaps merely denied,

Her life-giving umbilical was all that sustained me.

SINGH

Chain Gang Ant

I am just one of the gang, a thousand moveable mandibles rubbing thorax to red thorax with purpose –– to crop, to crimp, to chew and glue two sides of a leaf-cathedral together. The higher-ups send down the orders, and then we’re off –– marching and singing to engineer another leaf-horn cornucopia trumpeting up the jungle jazz. See my jaws of silk in a dewdrop, tick my attendance in the scheme of things. I am a pest-controller of the citrus orchard, a waterproofer of nursery nests,
the tiniest sweat worker in the emerald forest. I’m a little link in the chain of command.

ZACKMANN

What a hangover and I only had one glass of zinfandel. At least it is dark in here. I feel a daisy chain around my neck or rather with my neck since my hands and feet are chained to a wheelchair. Oh God No, this is a movie theater. I should have never told her she can’t make me and there is nothing she can do to get me to see a Twilight movie. I should have know she would see it as a challenge. Never say “you can’t” to a woman if you don’t want them to do something.

TURA

I heard this story from the driver of a taxicab, who said that he had had that David Attenborough in his car last week, who told him of a book in which Marco Polo recounted a story he had from a Chinese nobleman, whose grandfather told him he had once known a sailor who had journeyed to the Western edge of the world, to the Land of Anger, or as they call it, Ire-Land, where he had seen the grave of St. Elvis who, the monks told him, would return at the world’s greatest need.

So it must be true.

TOM

I would like to say I am having a string of senior moments, but the truth is I’m having intermittent consciousness. I’m capable of forgetting anything. To this end I own a wallet, and the only reason I still do is it is chained to my pants. I’ve always thought if one loss their pants, that a wallet would be a serious secondary concern. After walking away from my ATM card for the zillionth time I’ve chained it to the wallet. The car keys chained, flashlight and cell phone. The wallet weights 16 pounds. Gail have you seen the Subaru?

Santa Cruz is not so much a place as a state of mind, sort of the land time forgot. In the 70’s the soundtrack to that state was Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors. It was literally playing everywhere all the time. Perhaps it was because the band had been infused by two Atherton kids. I think it was more a talisman against neo-reggae that seeped into the seaside town. Don’t get me wrong, I played the grooves flat on Jimmy Cliff’s Harder They Come, but Stevie Nick’s post-adolescent angst was the heart of a darkening America that would never break the chains.

BONCHANCE

Love those tigers!

The “waiting lounge” was encased in cool steel. Pablo waited to see Chairman Meow.
“Pablo?” A familiar voice echoed from the corner of the cell.
“Anthony?” Pablo rushed to his old friend. He was chained to the wall.

“ Geez what the hell!?!

The tiger explained that shortly after Pablo left the circus, he left too.
He quickly realized the world loathed the tigers.

Pablo insisted that wasn’t true, although the mad Siberian kitty chairman was holding them captive.
Pablo insisted that EVERONE loves the tigers.
They began to plot their escape from the evil clutches of the psychotic Chairman.

CLIFF

An Unlikely Chain of Events

Fred spread his arms and let his wife remove the chains and moldy jacket.
“Did all go well, darling?”
“Of course. The old man was clay in my hands. His fear, my power of suggestion, and the elixir that I put in his soup will do the trick. His hallucinations will drive him out of his mind over the course of the night and by tomorrow, we’ll have the best Christmas present ever. My uncle’s fortune will be mine.”
“What if he does something crazy?”
“What could he do? Give away his money? No, no. Not Uncle Ebenezer. Not Scrooge.”

NORVAL JOE

The goblins rushing toward the circle of people around the way-stone stumbled to a stop as the circled company faded from sight. For a moment the scene before him remained, though his friends had already disappeared. Owen felt his guts wrenched from him, spun around above his head like a lasso and then shoved back down his throat.
When Owen’s vision returned, he and the others lay on their backs in snow, high mountains rising above them. Shareeka alone remained on her feet, a stone in a silver bezel hanging on a chain around her neck shone with azure brilliance.

JEFF HITE

I watched Tron the other day, the original not the new one. Though I really enjoyed the new one almost as much as I like the original. If nothing else there was some really great Music in that new movie. But I’m getting off track here. When you think about that movie you think about powerful computers taking over the world, and everyone connected via “dumb” terminals. Ten years ago I saw the reintroduction of dumb terminals, but they were called thin clients. Now the chain’s complete, Google the biggest computer in the world has the chomebook, a dumb terminal.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

He pulls against the thread, biceps bulging with strain.

I tisk and shake my head. “Not so easy, darling”. I pull out more thread. I wrap it slowly across his torso.

He strains again. My threads are unmoved.

“You should watch more nature programs,” I chide. My first arms caress his cheeks. My second arms spin the thread while my third arms spin him in place.

“Stronger than steel chains,” I whisper. “Useless to resist”.

He tries anyway, and my pulse quickens. My fangs extend and I plunge them into his chest.

I drain him before my red hourglass empties.

DANNY

Just when I had a chance to ask what’s in a life, I met the woman of my dreams. This was the grand love story that fell short of the fairytale ending, unless fairytales end in chains. After years went passing by, I was finally jolted awake from a five year coma. Suddenly aware my friends had moved on, the opportunities I once had for new relationships were now long gone. I refuse to go back into the chains of another 5 year coma, I’d rather bask in the freedom of loneliness. That’s a freedom nobody will ever take from me.

REDGODDESS

Since the passing of Mr. Chip, Lola has been in a manic mood. She has avoided her lover in fear of being too vulnerable. She tries to keep herself busy with work but is still numb with sadness. No one has come to claim Mr. Chip’s belongings. She’s beginning to wonder who will make the funeral arrangements. There are certain chain of events that turns life on its ugly head. Lola wonders if this job is the pinnacle of her existence. Would anyone care if wasn’t at the hotel? The next day, Lola calls in sick for the first time.

PLANET Z

Eddie loves to write chain letters. The crazier, the better.

Instead of saying that you need to forward e-mails to 10 friends to avoid being hit by a bus, he’d scare people with solar flares or runaway steamrollers.

Then, one day, there was a solar flare and runaway steamroller ran him over, and he spent the next two months in the hospital.

He wasn’t able to type his chain letters with his arms broken.

So, he used speech to text software instead.

The chain letters continued until annoyed readers broke his jaw. And another solar flare roasted him to ashes.

Weekly Challenge #339 – Circle

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-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 Circle.

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

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of chain.

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:

MICHAEL

I hid in the shadows when the circles from the sky came and offered us death (16) (deep beastly alien voice)(5 words)

Now… death would be kind…. (21)

My world is broken… lost…(26)

I am alone …….(29)

Vengeance flames my soul…I insist….my purpose…Arghhhhhh…… hear my rage …. (40) (said fast )

I will feed on mountains of your mutilated corpses (50) (Spoken aloud with rage)

…It seems they hear me…(55)

It is time…(58)

No more shadows…(61)

Come to me sky circle things…You shall be the first….(72)

The first to bare the sufferings for your actions….(81)

Don’t worry…..I will sustain your life(89)

Your sufferings shall be great(94)

Come closer….(96) (pause)

C..L..O…S…E…R (said slowly)

Arghhhhhhhh…….You’re mine (100)(loud in rage)

TURA

Look at the sucker, walking down the street without a care. It’s not like I have a choice, doesn’t he know this is a bad neighbourhood? I grab his jacket and show the knife, idiot doesn’t hand over his wallet, so I have to stick him, don’t I? Must have got an artery ‘cos he just falls down hurry clap all his pockets but nothing there NOTHING shit idiot’s dying blood everywhere run for it run car slams into me—

Look at the sucker, walking down the street without a care. It’s not like I have a choice… is it?
——–
Christian theology is strange. Did you ever wonder why Satan was cast out from Heaven?

Because he refused God’s command to bow to Man.

But Man was created a little lower than the angels, so why must the angels bow to Man?

Because God was incarnated as a man.

Why did God incarnate as a man?

Because he intended to redeem Man from his Fall.

Why did Man Fall?

Because he was tempted by Satan.

Why did Satan tempt Man?

Because he desired revenge upon God.

Why did Satan seek revenge upon God?

Because Satan was cast out from Heaven.

THOMAS

Sarah Glacé walked the circle of bricks in the big meadow near the Louis’ house. It was on private property, and the largest labyrinth open to the public in the area. Sarah removed her shoes as a gesture of reverence, and to feel the brick underfoot as she walked slowly to the center and back out to the entrance. As she walked, her breathing slowed, but her sight and hearing magically heightened in sensitivity at each step. As she reached the center, she was startled for a moment, as the sky grew brighter and clouds moved away from the sun.
#

The members of the science club were a tight-knit circle of gadgeteers, engineers, and hackers. Meeting once a week at member’s workshops or garages, the club began collaborating on building a large, 3D printer. Each of them contributed time, materials and money for critical parts, and soon the printer was being tested. Choosing to build another 3D printer as its first project, they loaded the printer with thermoplastic stock, turned it on, and left it to work. Monday morning, sixty printers were built, each in the process of building another printer, until the walls of the workshop were pushed apart.
#

Conrad was a clown, running with a circle of friends of even lesser intelligence and sense. The gang of four was a circle of jerks. They would spend hours at the bus stop, spitting, vandalizing property, yucking it up with sniffs and snorts as they made fun of people waiting for the bus. One day, they made fun of Big Betty. Betty’s hoodie had been hand-lettered with “Bring it, weenie”. They taunted her, yucking and snorting until she pulled the device out of her belly bag, aiming at their throats. From that moment, the circle could only make chirping noises.
#
We gathered at The Red Eye in the Center of The Head Retreat to form our Autumn drum and dance circles. The drum circle was formed outside the dance circle, while the dancers jumped, swayed and moved until they fell into a trance or passed out from dehydration. The campfire died quickly because the only wood we had was from a few, broken palettes and some of Mrs. Kincaid’s lawn furniture. Nancy Creamcheese wanted to show off her brand new bosoms, so she stripped to the waist and scared most of the small children, the dogs and the older men.

THOMAS

Circle the Wagons
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Circle the wagons!” Ralph cried as he piloted the big RV into a space.

Tess sighed. “We’re not on the prairie, surrounded by Indians, Ralph. We’re one of only three RVs in a camp site just off the interstate. For Christ’s sake, you can see a Wal-Mart from here!”

“Geez, I’m not stupid. I know where we are – drove here, remember? Can’t a guy get into the spirit of things, thinking we’re on an adventure instead of cruising in an air-conditioned bus with all the amenities of home? I don’t see anything wrong with ending the day with a call to circle the wagons, like our pioneer forefathers, worrying about waking up surrounded by Indians.”

“Ralph, you’re hopeless.” Tess went to bed in a huff.

The next morning, she woke early and decided to stretch her legs before Ralph got up. She was amazed to see the RV park full of vehicles. She asked the site manager what drew them here.

He pointed to a sign that read “Welcome Patel Family Reunion!” “Them folks come from all over the country – we even got some from as far away as Bombay! Don’t know how they drove here, though.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Ralph would never let her live this down.

RAHEL

The Golden Circle
by Rahel Jaskow

“Here, watch this.” The woman tapped the couch beside her, and the little red tabby cat jumped up and burbled.
“Would you like some skritches? Want a cuddle? How about a tummy rub?” The red tabby cat arched her back, yawned and flopped over on her side, purring and kneading the air with her front paws.
The woman and her friend took turns massaging the cat. A few minutes later, the cat curled up and went to sleep.
“She looks like a fuzzy golden ring all curled up like that,” the woman said. “Sometimes I can’t resist whispering, ‘Precious…. Precious….’”

MUNSI

Inside the Circle

By Christopher Munroe

They circled us, cheering, as we circled one another, knives at the ready.

I don’t know how to fight, but when he accused me of insulting his honor I refused to apologize. Why should I? It was just a joke!

Still, I didn’t expect him to turn up to the duel, and when he did I was worried. Especially since, from what I’d heard, he DID know what he was doing.

Still, no backing down now…

So I pulled the pistol I’d tucked into the waistband of my pants, and shot him.

…always bring a gun to a knife fight.

SINGH

Circle 101

Chris Mooney-Singh

I walked. In circles. I got hypnotized like a chicken to a chalk line and my footsteps made ring after ring in the sand. First, like a Zen monk raking the stone garden of Kyoto; then, steady as Giotto drawing a free-hand circle for Pope Benedict IX. But my circles got smaller, smaller until, I came to a full stop at the heart of zilch.

Seasons passed. I turned grey as stone. The bumps and sockets are my eyes, mouth and nose tuned to the wind and rain. Yet, my mind? It’s still crammed full of the same old burning questions.

SERENDIPITY

“What is the sound of one hand typing?”

Surely that wasn’t right? – I looked quizzically at the bald guy, sat in front of me, clad in orange robes.

“Ahhh?…”, I ventured.

“Life”, he said, “is a circle – from the day we arrive on the planet, and blinking, step into the sun.”

The nagging doubt in my mind grew.

He smiled at me, reaching out with his hand…

“My son, never forget that material wealth is an illusion from which we should seek freedom. That concludes today’s teaching. Fifty dollars, please!”

I paid up.

Since when did enlightenment become so expensive?

ZACKMANN

“What are you doing at that desk?”
“I found this drafting book and I am designing my dream home.”
“What is that circle by the rectangle?”
“It is a giant phallic symbol that holds kimchi for cows.”
“What?”
“I mean a silo since the rectangle next to it is a barn because my dream home is sort of a hobby farm.”
“What about the big circle around all those buildings?”
“Oh, that is the moat the sea monster lives in. The small circles are fruit tree, isosceles triangle a dragon landing strip. Like I said this is my dream home.”

TOM

A circle is a degenerative ellipse. Yup right up there on the corner with the guy in that questionable overcoat. But how does this happen, you may ask Tom? Well that has to do with a 2nd degree equations, the adventurous landscape of conic sections. Ok, you slept through your entire 2nd year of high school algebra. Try this, take an ice cream cone cut it perpendicular to the point you get circles. If your angle of incision is the slightest bit off you get ellipses, in fact 99.999% of the cuts you can make will give you not circles.

With me so far. Good. If you want to make an ellipse with out the mess of chopping up an ice cream cone, try this, take a fixed loop of string and rotate it around two fixed points maintaining ample about of outward pressure with an appropriate drawing implement. Now to have two fixed points those points must have some reasonable distance between them. Math guys call these points foci that is plural Latin for ya. When the foci degenerate to a single point the ellipse becomes a circle. How truly sad for it. Care for a Walnetto my dear?

KIMIANNE

Circle

The healer traced the sacred circle around the young woman who sat cross-legged at his feet.
Spirit had whispered to him late last night, “Be ready.”
He grimaced…not at the command, but at the nebulousness of it.
It didn’t matter; he was always at the ready.
The girl had tears streaming down her delicate face. It wasn’t from any emotional outburst, but from the intense smoke coming from a sage bundle. It’s good that she cries now, he thought. Tears… with girls there’s always tears. He’d tell her soon.
He chanted ancient words of protection. They would need them.

LIZZIE

In the dark, he walked slowly touching the damp walls to find a way out. His hands stretched forward surveying the cold path. The maze seemed to expand mysteriously, endlessly. To the left, to the right, lightheaded and lost, he tripped over rocks that fell from crumbling walls. Was I here before? In twists and turns, he walked into blind alleys again and again. Yet, a perpetual string of decisions pushed him forward to find the exit. One more, only one more turn. Would it ever end? For him, it did. And he was actually still quite tasty, they thought!

BOTGIRL

100 screaming citizens jumped to their feet as the two combatants entered the caged fighting circle. It was time for the main event. A clear knock-out by either party would determine the fate of the nation. After contributing $100,000 apiece for a ringside seat, the studio audience wanted to see blood.

Already breathing hard, sweat glistening on his age-spotted skin, the incumbent looked for his pretty wife in the skybox above the teaming throng. But the holographic image of the moderator pulled his eyes back to the ring.

“Welcome to the 2040 Presidential Cage Match Debate,” she announced.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

The amateur hunters were beginning to whine. They had been trekking in what they thought a circle through the
trail for over two hours. “When is this beast going to present itself?”, growled a Brit.

Suddenly Mark eye’s saw the clearing in the bush, that lead the pack into a ravine basin.
The hunters relished the moments of needed rest.

Once collected, Mark began to notice the scatted bones. This was the work of an experienced killer.
Mark gave the warning shout, the beast had circled back on them, just as the Brit went down and disappeared into
the brush.

CLIFF

I lined up the shot and waited. My target was working his way up the tree line, exactly as I’d expected. He’d shot one of my team and I was getting ready to get revenge.
“Circle of life, pal,” I muttered as he cleared the brush that had hidden him. I gently squeezed the trigger once, twice, three times. His grey shirt exploded in vivid color. That’s when I felt the impact on my back. I spun to see his son grinning. He’d circled around behind me even as I’d been waiting for his father. Paintball is a vicious game.

NORVAL JOE

The sun had just crested the horizon as Elbownor returned the final piece of the way-stone to it’s place. The company formed a circle around the stone, except for Spleen who cowered by a tree and sniffed the air.
Shareeka chanted a monotonous hymn and drew a horizontal circle in the air over the stone with her finger.
Spleen hissed, “They’re coming. The goblins have found us.”
“Spleen, Join us in the circle, quickly,” Shareeka said and placed the cube on a small circle on top of the restored stone.
Goblins screamed in astonishment as the company faded from view.

We was drivin the heard over the Platt River when them native americans came out of the hollers, hollerin. We circled up all o them weenie dogs and hunkered down behind them little critters and waited for the worst.
We was lucky, we was. Cuz them indiginous peoples were of the flat foot tribe and their totem was the weiner dog.
When they seen us cowering there, fearin for our lives, they done thought we was a prayen to their wiener dog god.
They stayed with us for vittles, smoked some tobackie an went on thier way. Jus like that.

DANNY

“Welcome to T-Moble’s customer service site,” the computer generated female voice rattled into my ear. “Please say what you are looking for, such as, I want to pay my bill, or, I want to change my service.” So I said the following, “Why am I being charged an additional $14.95 a month to use my smartphone as a WIFI hot spot when that was originally included in my plan?” I had this strange feeling I was about to be led into a circle. The computer voice responded, “One moment, please.” Then, a voice responded in Japanese, “Kon’nichiwa, watashi wa dono yo ni kyo wa anata o tasuderu koto ga dekimasu ka?

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

“You know,” he said, “we’ll see all our pets again.”

I didn’t say anything, just kept walking through the woods. The clearing was just ahead. My other dog pulled at her lead in excitement.

We stepped into the clearing. He continued talking. “I really believe that.”

“I know.” I circled the clearing while he talked.

“I read this really inspiring poem about a rainbow bridge…What are you doing?”

“Lighting candles.” As my match touched the last one, Bifrost shimmered into existence and the world shifted.

All the dogs greeted each other as Valkryies gathered.

I smiled. “Welcome to Asgard.”

RED

Hellene, a wannabe cougar, comes from old money. Many of her socialite friends gossip behind her back. She’s part of the big charity circle in town, fancy galas for the poor and overprized dinners at political fundraisers. She tries hard to do good with her money by supporting public causes.

At the hotel she treats the immigrant maids like trash. Recently, she accused a valet of attempting to steal her car. All the workers avoid her except for Lola. Lola handles all of the Hellene’s. One big circle of white Helene’s Lola can’t even tell one from another any longer.

PLANET Z

Vultures are circling overhead.
I don’t know why, though. I feel great.
Plenty of chips and queso. A gentle breeze off the lake.
“I’m doing fine, right?” I ask Esteban the waiter.
“Absolutely, Mr. Garcia,” says Esteban. “Would you like another drink”
“Yes,” I say, handing Esteban my empty canteen. “I’ll take a margarita this time.”
Esteban returns quickly with the canteen, and I lick the rim of the cap.
Sand not salt
“Esteban?” I say.
He’s not there.
The chips are gone.
So is the hotel.
And it’s horribly, dreadfully hot.
That’s it, Esteban. I’m not leaving a tip.

Weekly Challenge #338 – Chip

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-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 Chip.

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

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of circle.

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:

DAVID

“Hey, Chip, are you about ready to leave?” I asked.
“Well, have you picked up the chips and dip yet?” he challenged back.
Soon, we’d head to the 32nd annual poker championship to be held at the Community Center. They’d be serving chipped beef again, but I was signed to bring snacks for the affair.
“Let’s stop at Quik-Ez on the way.” I did not want to be late again this year. This charity event was somewhat competitive. Whomever has the biggest stack of chips at the end of the night was declared Poker King until next year’s contest.

THOMAS

The computer chip they implanted deep into Tiddbitt’s brain managed and controlled everything, except his impulsivity. His excoriating editorials, ranging from lengthy diatribes about organized sports to excessive city spending, sent to the local weekly news, were carefully crafted, but highly disturbing to the majority of the newspaper’s readers. The senior editor stopped publishing them and he implored Tiddbitt not to write any more, and if he Tweeted them, or blogged them, to please tone it down. Readers were burning municipal vehicles, smashing bank windows, attacking city council members, throwing bricks at public workers, and flipping the bird at clergymen.

She chipped her tooth during a particularly energetic bout of lovemaking. Dating the Master At Arms of the Hell’s Angels had some benefits, but the downside was the rough handling, and group sex, along with frequent dealings with CHIPs on the California highways. When Shelli saw Sister Elizabeth-Rose double-dipping chips at the buffet table, she shouted at her. Shelli was not shy about embarrassing folks that scorned basic etiquette and sanitation rules at parties or weddings. Her boyfriend, Hardi Bigcup, had her back. Today, reaching her nader, she works as an oil changer and lubes chassis part time at Walmart.

JEFFREY

Second Chances
by Jeffrey Fischer

Marvin popped a chip in his mouth and reached for the remote control. *Flick.* Division I-AA football. Nah. *Flick.* Home shopping. *Flick.* Talking heads, yelling at each other about politics. *Flick.* An action movie – Stallone? Willis? He couldn’t tell, and it really didn’t matter. Something was exploding on the screen, and that was enough for Marvin.

He ate another chip, a large, irregularly-shaped one. It caught in his throat and Marvin began choking. He saw his life flash before his eyes, all the bad decisions in a lifetime full of them. He sputtered twice and dislodged the stuck piece. As he gulped air, he realized he had been given a second chance. He would make the most of it.

Marvin flicked the remote, settling on a rerun of Happy Days. He popped a chip in his mouth and munched.

TOM

When I was a child television was littered with function fathers. Robert Young, Carl Betz, Fred McMurray. Oddly these actors made their chops playing pretty heavy weight characters. From the coldblooded killer in Double Indemnity to the bachelor engineer in My Three Sons. Fred McMurray traveled the greatest distance from cad to kind. The central theme of that show was no girls, a house of men, total testosterogen. I grew-up in a household with five sisters, a mom and her mom. That’s seven women, one more than Louisa May shoved into her novel. Tuning into the boy’s club was comforting

The youngest son in that house was named Chip. In my vast collection of people’s named not a single one was addressed formally or in, as Chip. I came from a blue-collar world where everyone had biblical names: John, James, Ben, Isaac. Chip, in my world, parents didn’t use verbs as names. I knew something was happening; I was clueless that the writes had blown a cultural dog whistle. Chip wasn’t blue-collar. Chip was Ivy League. He was meant to go to school with guys named Hunter. Ironically Chip ended up in a teen marriage, totally cautionary, totally 70s.

SARAH

Our obsession with miniaturisation is something I’ve never understood – ever since the microchip was invented we’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to squeeze ever more complexity into ever-smaller spaces.

Why do we do it?

Surely, bigger is better?

Take my new idea – the maxi-chip – all of three inches square… imagine much processing power you can fit on that!

We’d have computers a hundred times faster and so much more powerful, with only a tiny increase in overall size!

Why stop there?

How about the mega-chip – a full six-inch monster!

Look out Silicon Valley – here I come!

TURA

We’re taking Timmy for his regular exocortex upgrade. They’ll pull out the chip, garbage-collect the memory, and update the software with age-appropriate skills.

It’s a bit disorienting, but they get over it. We’ll keep him off school a few days, while he learns to be himself again. You can’t have the other children suddenly wondering who their friend is. They get afraid of being upgraded themselves.

Some parents get all sorts of black market stuff put in, like intelligence boosts, or religion. Who wants a child smarter than they are, or doesn’t think this is the best country on Earth?

PAU

Congratulations – repeated the boss to the employee looking into his eyes.
He could not believe it. His boss had entered the office this morning saying “Good morning“ with a wide smile and then he had addressed to Tony to admire his report that was successfully submitted to the Board.
But immediately Tony suspected, after seeing that the screw on the boss’ left ear was loose, and then a drop of oil fell to the ground.
Tony had no doubt and quickly called the Head of Maintenance: the boss’ chip had broken again.

MUNSI

Chipper

By Christopher Munroe

I was being extraordinarily reasonable.

I didn’t raise my voice, I wasn’t rude, I simply explained that the first time I put a guy into the wood-chipper I’d bought, it jammed, and asked for a refund.

Jerry, behind the counter, explained that the wood-chipper was meant to chip wood, and since I’d misused the hardware no refund would be forthcoming.

Chip wood?

What part of my life as a hired murderer would lead me to need chipped wood?

Still, nothing I could do, so I bought another, sturdier wood-chipper at a rival store.

This weekend, I’ll demonstrate it to Jerry…

ZACKMANN

Chip chips away at the stone as he finishes a sculpture with a chip on
his shoulder.
“Stand still or I will chip your tooth.” says Chip.
The model replies “As a Chip and Dale dancer, I can’t have that even
in my facsimile.”
Chip says “Don’t be too chipper since I would have to charge double
for chipping on a Sunday.”
The dancer replies “After being hit in the mouth in a Paris bar fight,
I found overseas chipping to be the worst.”
“Have a look, so much like you that it is a chip of the old block”

LIZZIE

“Integrated circuit developed to feed the population of the world” that is how it was advertised. It would chip away until the problem of hunger was solved. Companies of the whole world chipped in eager to make immeasurable profits. But when the chips were down and colossal amounts of money were needed, there was no agreement. The usual chip on the shoulder attitude took over and major investors tried to steal the blueprint of this promising product from the creator. Adding to famine, a world war broke out. Apparently the new human race was a chip off the old block.

CLIFF

My guide explained that many things in Merry Old had different names. When he picked me up at the airport, he put my luggage in the boot. He gave me a ride to my rented flat, taking the lift up to the third floor. At the pub, we ordered a pint of stout and chips. I saw bags of chips behind the counter, but they were crisps. Cookies were biscuits, women were birds, the bathroom was the alley, and a friendly greeting in a pub was “Hello, you big sissy.” I think my guide is a bit of a joker.

#####

When Lucy looked down at the baby, she wasn’t surprised. Somehow, she had known the child would not be beautiful. Hopefully, the boy would grow out of it and take after his mother but Lucy wasn’t about to start taking bets on that. The infant had tiny eyes and a big round head. His hair was dark, but, for his sake, Lucy hoped his mother’s red hair and good looks would kick in eventually. She looked up at the proud father.
“Well, Chuck, I don’t know what to say. It looks like he’s a chip of the old block head.”

SEVI AND BONCHANCE

Chip

Mirella started her new “Chip n Chow” diet.
She was to trade poker chips for food.

Staring at the bag of ketchup chips, she salivated.
She contemplated digging in. Imagining a sweet n salty chip melt in a crumble upon her tongue.
“I only had a salad and cup of tea so far today.”

She rationalized and calculated. The remaining chips would cover eating the entire bag of sin. It seemed like a fair trade off to her, although the salty treat was not on the list of approved foods.

She decided to “let the chips fall where they may!”

chip chip chip

Taylor was impatient for answers about life. He started his journey of discovery.

Chip…chip…chip…”Excuse me old man is this the path to the ancient monk’s temple?
The old man continued patiently chipping away at the stone.

Fine!

He found the head monk in the great temple in the mountains. His other questions forgotten, the only query at the top of his mind was to ask about the rude old monk, chipping away at the mountain pass.

Smiling he replied, “do not know of this gentleman you speak of. Only know young impatient monk left at mountain wall many years ago.”

chip off the ole block

Pepe moved back in with his parents and vowed to clean up his act.
He now accepted the fact that he was a chip off the Pablo block.
Why fight it?

Speaking of fighting, Pepe wondered what his dad was going to do when
he finds out that the cute woodle (part wheaton, part poodle), bubbles was preggers.

He realized that issue would have to wait, word spread throughout the neighborhood
Poor Pablo has gone missing. A distraught Espy called an emergency meeting after
a very mean looking Colonel Meow informed her that Pablo was being “entertained” by the Chairman.

NORVAL JOE

Hours passed and the company waited in a silent circle some distance from the elf prince.
Elbonor sat on the ground, cross-legged, before the crumbled pile of stone. His eyes were closed and he hummed quietly to himself.
“Why is he just sitting there? He needs to get the way-stone back together?”
Owen asked.
“He’s learning how it was destroyed,” Shareeka said. “If it is not put back, chip by chip, as it was disassembled, the stone will not work.”
“What happens if the village goblins return before it gets rebuilt?” Owen asked.
“That would be a problem,” Shareeka said.

REDGODDESS

Lola barely moved since being released from the hospital. Her injuries from the assault are slowly healing, physically. She decides to take a weekend shift at the hotel to distract her from this new lazy life of television. Besides, she really wants to check on one of her year round guests. Her week as a shut-in triggered just how sad things must be for Mr. Chip; especially with his widow’s birthday coming, he just hasn’t been himself. Lola’s instincts are seldom wrong, but when she sees the coroner in front of the hotel her heart sinks. Mr. Chip had enough.

PLANET Z

My favorite flavor of ice cream used to be mint chocolate chip ice cream. But I don’t eat it anymore.

One night, I left the lid on the table, and while I was eating the ice cream, my cat Piper jumped up on the table, and she licked the lid clean.

For years, I bought mint chocolate chip ice cream, left the lid on the table, and we’d share it together.

Then she died.

The next time I bought ice cream, I left the lid on the table, and just sat there, staring at it.

I buy frozen yogurt now.

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.