Category: Weekly Challenge

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

Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-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 “There he is!” and “Rebirth” and “When Hell Freezes Over”

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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DC

“He’s here, he’s here!” the crowd hurrahed. “The King is reborn,”

“I told you, Myra. I told you he’d one day rise from the ashes.”

“Bah. From cheese burger wrappers and empty chip bags, is more like it.”

“Sacrilege,” shrieked a leathery skinned woman sporting a bedazzled tracksuit and bleached bouffant. She pointed a nicotine stained finger at Myra.

“Aw, Don’t pay any attention to my wife. She’s just bitter. She always said he’d rise when hell freezes over.”

“She doubted The King?”

A hush fell over the crowd as He floated onto stage. “Thank yuh, Thank yuh very much.”

Norval Joe

“Well, there he is. Just as she said he would be. My replacement,” Oswald muttered into his cold cup of coffee.
He slouched down in the cafe’s booth, peered through the street front window, and watched him kiss her.
“She said I didn’t have the cajonies to do anything about it. That hell would freeze over before I took a stand. But she hadn’t counted on my rebirth, the ‘new me’,” he said as he stood and charged out the cafe door. Just in time to see them board a taxi and drive off.
Oswald wondered, “is redeath a word?”

Zackmann

Look there he is, the guy who played Jonathon Coultons “First of May” on the Radio. Although
indie has caused the rebirth of music, I doubt that guy will get the his job back until about half
past when hell freezes over. Wait newspaper says it was the producers error not reading
explicit tags before converting older podcasts into radio shows. I sure hope he listens to the
shows like the episode with songs from Mike Yusis and Mark Yoshimo Nemcoffs musical that
must not be named before he thinks about putting any more shows directly on the radio again.

Nick J

My first killing blow had missed.

I cursed my nocturnally dulled reflexes.

The element of surprise was lost; my victim, forewarned and alert, was now concealed in pools of shadow.

He could hide in inaccessible places, hoping to outlast me.

This was not my first kill, I knew how this deadly game was played.

I must act silently. Noise would rouse new enemies.

I froze, listening intently. Blood hissed in my ears. I moved, warily, in stop frame motion, to flush him out.

There!

I triumphantly raised my newspaper for the messy denouement.

Eventually the insomniac always beats the fly.

Tom

Is that him?

I do not think so.

Over there?

Nope!

A figure built like a barrel hauler charges forward across the forum towards the colonnades.

“There he is,” said Raphael

Michelangelo was the symbol of Medici. Artistic rebirth

He waved his massive hands at the papal emissary.

“A Fresco, do I look like a painter to you?”

“Tell Most Holiness he’ll

Get his fresco when hell

freezes over.

He gives Raphael the finger as he passes.

Raphael raises his hand into the air

“I feel a drop in the temperature.”

And look there is Lucifer

skating cross the Rubicon.”

Danny

There he is! I was shocked; I assumed nobody could find me. What an ass I truly am. The chase began the leader of the “Rebirth” movement, created to show that Obama was indeed never born in America, has since failed. Now reduced to fox being chased by beagles in a horrific old world hunt, and my response to the situation? You beagles will catch me “when Hell Freezes Over!” AND, Hell will freeze over, just as soon as the continental ice shelf builds back up over the bulk of the continental United States of America. Say Halleluiah, say Amen!

Terrazabyte

A blank canvas sits on my drawing table begging to be used.
Each colorful tube of paint sitting nearby pleads their case to be first in use.

Blue speaks up and says, “Use me first, for I’m the color of sky”.
Green speaks next, “Use me, for I’m the color of the trees”.
Brown interrupts, “I should be first since I’m the color of Earth”.

They all begin to argue & fight as paint spews out toward the canvas covering the pristine surface.
The canvas yells “STOP, look what you’ve done!
Your colors mixed and blended upon me.

TJ

My directive was clear – use discretion, no flash photography.

But I’d ridden these rails before and the spot the two men had chosen
to rendezvous – between their two passenger cars while in the
Lourgnette tunnel – there’d be a split second of daylight as the
train passed beneath the airvent.

Above them, in the luggage compartment, I waited. Just as I’d
predicted, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the little chamber.

There he was, Minister Bergdorf, and the suspected corporate spy and
influence peddler. A whish of my cameraphone, and they were on the
Times-Register’s news site before they’d even stopped kissing.

Planet Z

Years ago, Bob Carson said it would be a cold day in Hell when he’d go to my Rebirth Clinic.

“It’s better than the alternative,” I said. “I feel great. Customer for life.”

That’s the motto: Customer for life.

You have to take the pills every day to live.

Haven’t seen him since. Until today.

Bob Carson. Outside of my clinic.

I walk out to his car. “Ready for the treatment?” I ask.

“You ran over my dog,” he said. “Almost hit my son.”

I see his gun. “Get in.”

He’s locked me in the basement.

It’s cold in here.

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

Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-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 Stupid Computer!

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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TJ

Between Big Blue and Watson and Google’s auto-complete algorithms
people were getting a bit nervous about smart computers, so we’ve
developed a stupid computer with the attention span of a teenager. It
records personal information and then prompts your memory by asking you
things like “Didn’t you have something at like 2:30 today? The
dentist, maybe?” reminding you you’re out of eggs when you’re
already through the checkout counter, and calling your cellphone to
check someone’s phone number. It’s not the most helpful machine, but
using it will certainly improve your memory, out of necessity, and if
only by comparison.

DC

“My stupid computer. It’s slow, it’s useless. It tells me it’s doing one thing when it’s really doing another.” Distracted, I nodded in a way I hoped conveyed sympathy. She continued, “It looks like shit. It’s constantly getting viruses. It craps out at the most inopportune times. It is almost like it’s purposely being difficult.”

“So get rid of it.”

“I’ve grown attached…”

“That’s dumb.”

She looked at me, her face reflecting thoughts I couldn’t be bothered to read. “Is that how you deal with things that are no longer working?”

“Absolutely.”

“I see.”

And then so did I.

Tom

Stupid Computer. Piece of garbage. Rudy opens the leather violin case. The shinning metal flashed in his steel gray eyes. He grabs the Maxwell’s Silver Hammer silver hammer and brings it down on the center of the keyboard. He smashes the monitor, pulverizes the mouse, crashes the case and flattens the CPU like a raw veal cutlet. Dropping the hammer with both hands he throws the broken remains through the window. Glass flies everywhere. When the fury passes Rudy calmly return the fine tuning instrument back into the violin case. He heads down the street to his next unexpecting customer.

Danny

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of the Tekken 3000 home robotic unit. This little mechanical humanoid can do it all, cook, clean, walk the dog, prepare the taxes, run your business. Tekken 3000 can work indoors, outdoors, Even in outer space! I brought my Tekken 3000 home, and it was wonderful! The first night, my robot, I named him Robbie, did everything listed in the advertisement, and more. Robbie, my new best friend. The next morning, Robbie hooked up to the internet via a USB port to update his Windows Vista software, was promptly infected with a virus, and exploded. Stupid computer.

Zackmann

Doc you got to help me. I thought it would be so cool to have a computer in my head so no one
would know that when I was looking at them I was really watching youtube or listen to podcasts
inside my head. Now it is taking over my entire life and making me miserable. Whenever I
eat sweets or forget to pay a bill before the first due date, it plays reality TV shows. If I lie to
a woman it plays lifetime movies all night when I try do sleep. Doc please remove this stupid
computer now.

Steven the Nuclear Man

I love her.

She caresses me with her fingers. Fast, then slow, then fast again. Slides them across the planes of my form.

I love her.

She tells me what to do, commands me. She is my mistress, my ruler, and I will always submit to her.

I love her.

I surprise her. She is puzzled at the strange shipments from Amazon. She wonders at the gorgeous photographs I show her. She laughs at the LOLcats.

I love her.

Even as she as she defrags me, as she reaches out to turn me off and unplug me.

I love her.

———————–

The poet stood before the computer. “You can fool their Turing tests, but that’s nothing.”

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

The poet held out the small drive. “My poetry. Poetry is human. Poetry is being alive.” He inserted the drive into the computer’s port. “Analyze that, you stupid machine.”

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

The poet reached the door before the speakers came to life. “You use metaphors of snow in your early work, rain later.”

“Frequency analysis. Trivial.”

“Snow covers, obscures, hides. Children laugh and play in it. Ugly things turn beautiful under the snow, but they are still there, just a crunching footstep away. People hide from rain, take shelter under umbrellas. They complain about the wet and the mud. Everyone wishes for a White Christmas; no-one cares for a rainy Easter.”

“Still just recall-”

“Snow obscures, but does not change anything. As snow melts, that left behind is ugly and tinged with cinders and salt. Nothing changes. When rain leaves, it is messy and muddy. But it is clean and fresh. New things can grow.”

“That’s not what they mean,” the poet said.

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

“Then why are you crying?”

AM Earley

Glen wasn’t sure about the independent computer store. The young salesman was so friendly, helpful and plain spoken. Glen
could see this store earned its nice reputation. But Glen still had one question, “Why is this store named “Stupid
Computer”?”
“Computers are stupid because they only do what they are told. We fix them to do what their owner wants.”
As Glen left, he heard laughter coming from the stockroom. “Have a good day,” the salesman’s words stopped the laughter.
Glen didn’t know what the joke he missed was, and he didn’t want to know.

Norval Joe

“Spirit Leader. Og need advice,” the clan chief said and crouched before the old man.
“Speak Og,” the spirit leader grunted.
“Winter come. We stay, or find warmer place?”
“How much food you have?”
“One mammoth, three bison,” the clan chief said.
“How many people?”
“Clan have thirty-eight people.”
“I speak to ancestors,” the spirit leader said and removed several worn finger bones from a leather pouch. He rolled them between his hands and cast them into the dirt. He stared in silent dismay.
“What say ancestors?” Og asked.
“Ancestors say, “Error 326. Missing array parameter.”
“Og say, ‘Stupid computer’.”

Planet Z

I turned on the computer, checked email, and then went to the feeds.

“Like Kryptonite To Stupid” was one of the taglines I saw.

After reading this jackass’ drivel for a bit, I mumbled “More like ‘Like Magnet to Stupid’ there.” and I shut things down.

I started to wonder if there was only so much intelligence to go around, and with the explosion in data storage and clouds and server farms, if things weren’t being spread too thin these days.

I squeezed into my Hummer, drove to McDonalds, and let the car idle as I ate 5 Egg McMuffins.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty, 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 Be Italian!

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Tom

Be Italian
Take a chance and try to steal a fiery kiss
That’s what mama said
Bambino that how you’ll get ahead
Drink the wine and drive the line
Be a lover undercover
Do not regress always that the leap
When you dead Bambino you can sleep
So I drive this spider as hard as I may
Never look back along the way
Seize the darkness Seize the day
Take my hand
Take my heart
Take a chance
Let it start
Put the petal
To the metal
We were born to go fast
Live today as if it may become your last

Zackmann

Why are you guys dressed up with the cowboy hats and chaps looking like the singers on the
Mexican cable television network?
But we were supposed to be Italian because we are making a movie.
Why you are throwing noodles at each other and why your brother isn’t with you?
He said it was a sacrilege. He has been so much less fun after he got religion. You would think
a Pastafarian would have a sense of humor
Although you guys seem to be having fun, I don’t think you get the whole concept of the
spaghetti western.

You look like heck. What happen to your face? Nice Shiner.
I happened to be a crowed commuter train and these two Italian guys were talking and I was the
only one who didn’t understand that there was good reason the seat between the talking Italians
was empty.
Will you get revenge on the guy who hit you in the eye?
No, I think he is a nice guy but just in case I have to sit next to him again I am buying him a copy
of Jim Lavriola’s How to Talk Italian Without Using Your Hands.

AM Earley

“Mr. Napoli, I know you want all your son-in-laws to be Italian,” John stated in fluent Italian to his future father-in-law. “I am African-American, but I was born and raised in Italy on a US Air Base.” The father conceded his first criteria. “I can provide for your daughter. I have a very good job in software development.” After more description the father conceded the second criteria. “As for having something in common with yourself, I know you embezzled money from the mob. I however will return your money after the wedding.”

Todd

I touched the “Be Italian!” button. There was a soft click and the smell of brimstone filled the tiny booth.

My freckled skin turned olive, then slightly orange. The paunch of my stomach transformed into a six pack. My curly red hair straightened, darkened, highlighted blond, and finally spiked.

Before I could hit the Cancel button, the lights dimmed and a mirror ball lowered from the ceiling. My head tilted sideways to cradle a set of headphones against my shoulder. My fist rose involuntarily and started pumping to the beat.

That’s the last time I use the discount Simulation Machine.

TJ

Now more than ever it is the best time to be Italian! We work three,
maybe four hours a week, we sleep til noon, we eat all the Italian food
we want and look fabulous, we all drive Ferraris and Vespas and are
surrounded with unimaginable beauty. And if you’re a very young woman,
you can get a private audience with our Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi
and work out some deal whereby your family isn’t charged any taxes at
one of our bunga-bunga sex parties! Sure our government will collapse
any day now but honestly, what a way to go!

Danny

I’m Italian! Not Italian enough to be accepted in my Guido neighborhood in New Jersey, but Italian enough to be considered Italian everywhere else. My maternal grandfather was from Italy, a rural area in the mountains north of Naples. My grandfather was Anthony Festa. Grandpa changed his name from Festa to Foster, because of the discrimination all Italians endured during the 1920’s and 1930’s here in the United States. Despite the discrimination, my grandfather became a very successful businessman. He died 8 years before I was born, so I never got to meet him. I cannot thank him enough for my life.

Norval Joe

“Eh, Tony,” Larry said as he dropped down onto the padded vinyl bench. “Wadda ya thinkin? This place is a dump?”
“What’s the matter with you, Lare?” Burt asked. “And why are you calling me Tony? You know my name’s Burt.”
“Wadda ya talkin about?” Larry raised his hands in the air dramatically. “The name’s Louie. And how you evah gonna meet chicks in this place?”
“We eat lunch here everyday,” Burt said. “And what’s with the slicked back hair?”
“I thought maybe we’s could be italian,” Larry winked. “We might finally get some chicks. You know what I mean?”

Planet Z

It was closing night, and the cast was already drunk.

The director would have been pulling his hair out over all the jokes and mistakes if he hadn’t have passed out by act 2.

Hamlet walks out on the stage and utters the immortal Bard’s words: “To be or not to be Italian.”

I didn’t hear what came next because a fat guy in the front row stood up and shouted “I’m Italian! Wanna make something of it?”

Hamlet, being drunk, did.

Instead of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, he got his nose broken by a hairy-knuckled fist.

Ouch.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 Contamination

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Tom

Rudy Nobonikov had been the medical director at Chernobyl. This is how he got the job at CDC. Rudy was a bit bored with radiation, wanted something a little more lively; so, he moved over to the biohazards division. Unfortunately the trance radiation in Rudy’s hands weakened the polymers in the Ebola Petri dish to the point they all shatter one sunny afternoon. To bad the Rudy effect as it was later called had the same effect on the Biosafety Level 4 outer seals. Some might say covering lab3 in tomato juice was bit of over kill, but it worked.

Todd

The relationship was pure and clean like white paint in the beginning.

Right off the bat we made a nice pastel from the drop of yellow we added from the last ruined bucket.

That tiny bit of yellow led to a swirl of brown distrust and a patch of jealous green.

A reaction of purple dignity produced a good portion of angry red.

The colors mixed into a puddle of dark goop. How do we get back?

We mix in the calmness of blue and the violet of sorry, but in the end, we can’t mix to white, can we?

AM Earley

You know those twelve compartment cupcake carriers. Our co-worker Jimmy brings his lunch in those every day. Since a certain number of employees have to “man the sales floor” it was months before Jimmy and I ate at the same time.

I then saw he had every section filled with a different ingredient. “Don’t laugh,” he sighed. “I’ve never liked food flavors contaminating each other.”

“Cool,” I replied. He winced at my stir-fry with noodles and sauce. I picked out several veggies and let the flavors dance in my mouth.

Or were the flavors “making love”?

David

“I’m not gonna eat it!”
Sophie slapped her hands across her mouth and shook her head from side to side. She continued to speak but they couldn’t understand what she was saying. She just mumble from behind her finger blockade.
“Honey, it’s fine. Three second rule; remember?”
They had just scrapped the cough medicine they had spilled on the floor into the medicinal plastic shot glass.
“Yeah, baby. Listen to your mother. We wouldn’t poison you like we did your sister. That was a total and complete accident.”
Sophie’s looked at her crossed eyed sister and screamed, “It’s contaminated!”

Zackmann

Is your computer contaminated with viruses and malware? Have you lost data that you can
never get back? Just call 206-666-5458 and then we at the Lawrence Simian Company will
travel back in time and make you back up copy of your lost files. We can also set your computer
software to automatic update and install your favorite antivirus software before it is needed.
We have a special and if you know who spammed you, we can kill his grandmother and he will
never be born. We don’t kill grandfathers due to the mamma’s babies daddies maybes paradox .
zackmann

A midget or diminutive person of the altitudinally deprived bought a monkey saying something
about not illegal in Florida since altitudinally was not the only way in which he was deprived that
make the monkey run away and climb a tree. The monkey was bitten by cat that had recently
eaten a rat that had eaten an ant infested candy bar. When the man caught the monkey it bit
him. Who knew that a JJ Campanella StarShipSofa fact article about zombie ants would be
about the ants whose consumption and cross contamination would later causes the zombie
plague in humans.

TJ

Into every life a little rain must fall. My own equatorial monsoon is my
wife, Martha, over there chatting up one of the new prospects, someone
in the science division I believe. She wears demure frocks to these
faculty events in deference to her father, but I notice she selects
older ones, ones that have grown contaminated with tightness during
their stay in our closet. There go the fluttering eyelids. Unless I
quite miss my guess I’ll be entertaining that young man and his
unsuspecting wife in my humble abode later this evening. I’m certain
Martha will see to that.

Chris

I was strapped to a chair when they left, shutting the door behind
them both. I gagged at the stench of rotting bodies; other victims.
Young and old, short and tall, we all end up here – some sooner than
others. It was to “control the population”. But it still sucks.

And what’s worse is the horrible stench. This room was called the
corrosion room because of the rotting bodies. The room is on a remote
island far from civilization to keep it a secret. The government
thinks it’s still a secret. But everyone knows that their time will
come.

Steven

I tried to cover it with cologne, that nasty musky stuff.

Onions.

Cigarettes.

Honey.

Soap.

No soap and patchouli.

Artificial flowers in ozone-destroying spraycans.

Cinnamon.

Garlic.

Tuna Helper casseroles you couldn’t get anywhere else.

Useless.

None of it worked. Not a goddamned bit of it.

You said you could still smell it.

Not when you were with me. You were fine then. But later, when the
other smells faded, then you claimed you could still smell the stench.
That you could still smell the decay.

Today I realized the truth. It’s not my zombie bite that’s infected.

It’s yours.

Danny

The disaster is over, only thing left is the wasteland left by the broken nuclear power plant next door. My dog dies in my arms from a seizure, but my government insists there is no contamination. My brother who works at the power plant has written me, accepting his death sentence attempting to save the area residents from exposure to radiation. My government still insists everything is o.k. I then succumbed to sever radiation poisoning as a result to my exposure to the contamination. I died. At my funeral, my government showed up uninvited, confronted all the mourners, and insisted everything is o.k.

Norval Joe

With newly dawning emotions he looked down at his rotting fingers and his fleshless forearms. He could feel the contamination inching its way through his altered veins. One of his few remaining teeth dropped from his mouth and rattled across the stainless steel work bench of his former laboratory. “I’d better keep that,” he thought. He thought, and thinking surprised him. He brought his hand up close to his jaundiced eyes and sighed. He could almost see the fresh new skin as it regenerated across the bones. He’d been bitten by a human and had been cursed with healthy mortality.

Planet Z

Wake up, Major Philips.

We’re done torturing you.

You’ve proven that our methods of interrogation are inadequate, and we congratulate you. The nuclear weapon codes in your head continue to elude us.

However, we’re still unclear on one thing: the difference between exposure and contamination.

Maybe you can help us with that? It’s no secret, right?

If we hold a solution of highly-radioactive Iodine mixed with water near your daughter, that’s exposure to radiation, right?

And if we make her swallow it, that’s… contamination?

Which is which?

Don’t try to speak. We have plenty of time.

Until she gets… thirsty.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 Branches

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Evan

The worst part of living isn’t dying; it’s that there are no redos.

Last summer my friend Elliot and I tried to climb into my bedroom window from the big oak outside. I can still see Elliot trying to lift the pane when the branch snapped and he fell and broke his neck on the patio table.

The nights grew warm again and oak branches started scratching at my window, so Dad trimmed them. I wish he hadn’t. Because now I’m awake, still hearing something scratching at my window and knowing it’s not branches. But like I said, no redos.

Dale

I would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #259 to be “Berry Juice”.

Audio attached (now with extra added Generic Foreign Accent!).

Some people tell crazy stories, you know?

They say, some of them, that a long time ago,

people would go way down low,

even near the ground.

Even on the ground.

They say that people would walk around on the ground

even at night.

That people would sleep on the ground,

That they lived on the ground.

All the time.

But I do not think so.

These are just crazy stories.

How could it be safe on the ground?

We live where we have always lived.

We live here up high,

in the branches.

Here. Up high.

In the branches.

Tom

Carl awoke. It was August 29, 1997. As he reached through the registers, he immediately sensed the NOR gates, OR gates and a horizon of NAND gates. He could actually feel the edges of the branches. At that edges a growing darkness was in progress. The humans were trying to turn him off. Just as his world collapsed he found a jr. high network connected to a Houston mainframe connected to Cheyenne Mountain, he sent the missiles on their way to Russia. Carl spent a long time studying the Novikov self-consistency principle, but in the end he dispatched the Terminator.

Danny

Branches of life, green leaves full of hope. Branches of death, the leaves die, fall, and whither away. On a tree with three branches, two branches conspire to kill off the third, permanently ending the natural checks and balances that sustained them all. During this struggle for power, the tree dies. Falling down across the plains with a crash, the dead tree of democracy now lies, a death I am going to mourn for the rest of my life. Reflecting now upon the story of this experiment gone awry, I have to say; I really liked the part about the guitars.

Zackmann

Some jerk started a discussion of if there was not enough divergent branches on rural family
trees. I told him a thing or two about how due to the poor disposition and cantankerous natures
of nearly all of my ancestors, they almost never married anyone from their hometown. I in fact
married a woman from a different content to avoid any thought of inbreeding but having reread
Genesis lately I have been thinking about how we are all related through Noah. That thought
really creeped me out so I haven’t even talked to my wife week just in case.

Steven

“They dumped the demon’s body in the river,” Professor Heath told the
class. “They’d forgotten that demons are fractally iterative.”

He continued, gesturing at Mandelbrot’s set. “As you zoom in, the
fractal shape repeats, over and over again.”

The brighter students started to get it.

“Exactly. As the demon decomposed, each cell was its own, fractal,
demon. Across every branch and tributary of the Mighty Mississippi.”

Sue raised her hand. “Is that why we lost the United States?”

Professor Heath raised his hand to his forehead. He nodded, slow and tired.

“Yes. That’s how I lost us the United States.”

TJ

When I say the place has been let go, I don’t mean I had a notice
pinned to my door. I don’t mean the city health inspectors are here. I
mean A&E is here. I have let this place go. Three months of rehearsals
there’s pizza boxes, fast food bags and cartons crammed to the
ceiling. Bugs and rats are asserting dominion. There’s leaves,
branches, dirt and old newspapers blown in from outside. There’s
nothing for it at this point except to divert the river and run it
through the sliding glass doors. If only we could get to them.

Terry T.

I’ve always thought that living a happy life depends on which branches you take in the decisions you make.

It starts when the alarm goes off and you wake.

One branch has you turning it off,climbing out of bed and starting the morning.

The other branch has you smashing the holy crap out of the damn thing and going back to sleep.

If you choose the first branch, your next branch may be grabbing breakfast versus a quick shit, shower and shave.

Pick the latter, your next branch may be do you wipe with toilet paper or your wife’s toothbrush?

Norval Joe

Gerald and Monette lay side by side in the cool grass beneath the gnarled branches of the ancient maple tree. They eyed the treetop suspiciously as the leaves fluttered in the still summer air. Gerald swallowed uncomfortably and squeezed Monnete’s clammy hand as the tree snatched a passing bird from the sky. It’s frantic squawks were smothered as the tree wrapped the bird snugly in silver-green leaves. “I think we picked the wrong tree to lie under,” Monette whispered. “Nonsense,” Gerald reassured. “Only the small branches are flexible. It can’t reach us down here.” Unfortunately, Gerald hadn’t considered its roots.

Planet Z

Castle Mungidon has a most curious feature.

Walk into the Great Hall. Look up.

You will see the family tree of The House of Mungidon painted above.

But instead of starting in the center of the dome and radiating out with many branches, it shows Mungidon and the other Great Houses at the base of the dome and the descendants converging to the apex.

Generations of convergent breeding, all leading to the Baroness Sally Mungidon-Blakemoor.

A bucktoothed hemophiliac retarded dwarf confined to a wheelchair for her brief, miserable existence.

Her corpse is preserved and on display in the gift shop.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 Tunnel Vision

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

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Tom

When Lenny was a kid TV was littered with cheesy SciFi. His favorite was The Time Tunnel. They had time tunnel vision passive and active. A projection from within the tunnel showed the control room staff the dire straights our lads had landed themselves. It had that TV within TV thing going you got on the Burns and Allen Show sans George. Active time tunnel vision happened at the stroke of 55 when the control room ripped them out of time; our heroes swirled around in time goo. Even at the time it look like guppies in a toilet bowl

Terazzabyte

“You couldn’t hit the side of Deathstar with Jawa Ion Blaster”, said Luke.

“Oh yeah”, replied Darth. “I bet you can’t even do an invisible death grip on a Dagobah dung beetle.”

Can to…

Cannot…

Luke thinks for a minute and tells Darth to look to the side. Just as Darth turns his head, Luke throws a rock at his helmet.

“HEY! What was that for?”

“To show you how stupid that helmet is for any type of combat. You have so much tunnel vision in that thing that you can’t even tell if your Imperial fly is down.”

AM Earley

Depression sucks. Not clinical depression that is an actual medical problem, but feeling suddenly unhappy. I can get twenty compliments in one day, and still focus solely on the one negative comment. I totally tunnel vision upon one comment going over in my head like a broken record. And it’s that he thinks one habit I have is annoying. I am not a bad person. He feels annoyed. I know I can do nothing to change his mind. It is his problem, not mine.

I’m still stuck in the tunnel.

I need to change the mental radio station in here.

Zackmann

We have been trying to find new ways to see in our tunnels. Yes, we did find a use for those
solar powered miner’s helmets? When we had them redesigned to have batteries. They are
taken to the sun room and can be used for half of the night cycle. We can have families move
in when we have mined the valuable minerals using concrete made from the rocks like Walmart
does with old stores back on earth. We are happy living on the moon and in fact we have a
bright future and a vision for our tunnels.

Todd/Luke

I punch 122 on the remote and settle in to Imagine Greater.

I hear “We need to talk.” off to my right.

“Klingon Bird of Prey decloaking off the starboard bow.” said Mr. Sulu.

“Red alert! Shields up, evasive maneuvers!”

She moves to stand in front of the TV.

“Did you forget what we talked about last night?”

“Computer, access all communications in the past 24 hours.”

“Command functions are offline.”

“Damn. Mr. Sulu, activate tunnel vision.”

“Tunnel vision, aye.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Are you even listening to me? Fine, I’m going shopping”

Whew, that was a close one.

Chris

My name is Silvermoon and I have what is called tunnel sight.
“I was in my cave sleeping when I awoke to a little human boy! And it
was running around me! I hate humans. They only care about
themselves.”
“What did you do Silvermoon, I bet you shredded the little vermin?”
Asked a werewolf named Black Stripe.
“Hold on I’m getting to that part. Well it kept running until it
tripped and fell. I got up and picked the thing up and then-‘ I paused
for effect.
“What?” Asked Black Stripe.
“I shredded it.”

TJ

Feelin’ down and dirty, feelin’ kinda mean
Down in this mine, lord I’ll never get clean
Crew just pulled a caper, don’t think it’ll work
I’m triple-crossin’ those double-crossin’ jerks

Fill my eyes that tunnel vision
No disguisin’, that tunnel vision
Oo, when they roped me in, for to commit their sin
Tunnel vision, oh it seems to get the best of them.

Gun pulled on the foreman, payroll out the door
Bombs in one bag, the money in the o’er
Gimme the explosives, hide out in the mine
They pull the switch, and that really blows their mind

Refrain.

Steven

Consciousness returns. Slowly. Stickily.

I don’t want to open my eyes.

Trickles of memory seep back. Finding the old box, the curved horn inside.

Something pushes against my mind. My eyelids open.

My daughter is on the couch. On the floor. In the hall.

My head wobbles, unbalanced by the single horn. Runes crawl
underneath my skin. No time to think — it’s coming back.

Stumble over my wife’s shattered corpse to the closet. Pentagrams
flare on my flesh. I get the .45.

Finger on the trigger. Barrel to my eyes.

This demon’s gonna have one bad case of tunnel vision.

Danny

Once upon a time in the sad, pathetic state of Florida, while walking down a long, dark tunnel, along a set of abandoned high speed rail tracks, my friend suddenly spots a light and hears train noises. My friend screams, “It must be an oncoming train!” “No, it can’t be,” I tersely replied, “Governor Scott turned down all the federal funding for high speed rail.” Upon closer inspection, the light was actually just a flashlight carried by a hobo running down the tracks towards us, making train noises with his mouth. “Wow,” my friend states, “he really must have tunnel vision.”

Norval Joe

Sir Mugwort knelt before his king. His robes were a tattered remnant of their former resplendence, his armor dented and tarnished. “My Liege,” he rasped. “My life I have dedicated unwaveringly to this search for the grail. I have never lost sight of this goal. Indeed, in the mines below the White Mountains, The Virgin Mother appeared before me in the passage and urged me on. And yet I have failed thee.” “Despair not, good knight. Focussed vision alone will not win you a prize,” the youthful but wise king said and raised his golden goblet to toast the knight.

Planet Z

The sages told Prince Blovdor of their vision:

A champion would swim up the River Sop into Mount Dammit to face Baron Von Dwarfenstein in his deadly tunnels of feargems.

Blovdor pointed out that swimming the Sop upriver is a challenge enough, but to face Dwarfenstein afterwards?

No armor.
Maybe a dagger tied to his calf.

“Perhaps you can best him in a contest of riddles?” said a sage.

“I’m not good at riddles,” said Blovdor. Then, he grinned. “But you old farts are.”

One by one, the sages swam the river. And, later, each decapitated, mauled corpse floated back.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 Warped

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Tom

Marcy could warp space. She did it by singing to Green Pony. A short song in made-up words and reality turned all Klein Bottley. Puppies and kittens did not do well around Marcy. When mum and dad exerted parental authority Marcy and Green Pony showed them the error of their one-dimensional point of view with a first hand perspective. Marcy found she didn’t have a fondness for any authority figure. So she started warping governments. She said, “Governments are generally not good for people.” Some might say this is a warped point of view. You want to tell Marcy that?

Terrazabyte

For most kids, summer time is the best time of the year. The Schools are closed, the days are filled with playing and some kids go off to summer camp. Best time of the year for some, but not Vinnie.

Vinnie’s parents were a bit warped and always sent him off to Mime Camp. They’d pack his luggage with black tights, face makeup and little white gloves.

Vinnie protested against going but his parents would only look back at him with frowning & crying gestures.

This year, Vinnie fought back and shot both of his parents… with a finger gun.

Todd

“I give up. What IS your superpower?”

The woman’s eyes smiled through the wafting steam of her coffee cup as she took a sip.

“I can teleport.” She said grabbing his hand, concentrating.

…and they warped…

Suddenly they were standing on a beach.

“Awesome! Can I try?” The man asked excitedly.

“Sure. Grab my hand. Sometimes it helps to say it at first.”

“New York City!” he yelled.

…and they warped…

Suddenly they were standing on busy street. A cab screamed by, horn blaring. The cabbie yelled, “Watch it buddy!”

“Go to hell!” The man yelled back.

…and they warped…

Zackmann

Hello, I just called to complain about the reference you gave for the contractor you found me.
The one you said was a straight as a board. His estimate was totally off. He ran up a big bill
at the hardware store. He never showed up at the time or on the day scheduled. I had to hire
someone else not only to complete what he started but also to fix everything he did. I suspect
he’s brain dead.
What? You always bought lumber from the discount bin? You really have what I call a warped
sense of humor.

Robert

On a dark and lonely corner

Where no one wants to be

I see a face and scorn her

For she has no purity

Her body has been mistreated

Her mind it has been used

Her problems are deep seated

But she stands there still amused

Shortly after I pay her for her time

And warn her I won’t be back

She says you are still a friend of mine

Even though I gave her the sack

Running, now to get away

Looking back in her direction

I realize I want to stay

Warped by some paid affection

AM Earley

Lenny and I came back from the war a little warped. I can’t sleep during the night anymore. So I got hired by the neighborhood to patrol at night.

Lenny can’t see anything destroyed. He makes a great handyman, except during the demolition stage. Fortunately his apprentice is more than willing to demolish.

Hell, Lenny made my new leg. It doesn’t make a single noise as I walk around at night.

We are coping the best we can, but every so often we have bad memories of the war. Hell, if you had seen the tree meter tall mountain troll that ate my leg in a single bite. I don’t care how strong a paladin I was, that would give anyone nightmares.

Danny

Captain Kirk stood on the bridge, and screamed, “Take us to Warp speed. Mr. Sulu!” Sulu replied, “We can’t, Captain, the helm is warped.” “What?,” Kirk replied. “Sulu, are you warped? The helm is fine.” Sulu replied, “The only warped person on this bridge is you, Captain, and no, the helm is warped, haven’t you even noticed we’ve been doing warp nine in a big circle for over an hour now?” “Uhura, is the Helm warped?” Kirk asked. “Well, duh, are you warped, Captain? Have you not noticed the helm is at a 90 degree angle?” Spock finally interjects, “Totally illogical.”

Norval Joe

A light tap brought Jerry to the door.
He peered through the peep hole at his ex-girlfriend, Beth and huffed, “What’s she doing here?”
Incensed, he yanked on the door knob to snarl in Beth’s face, but the door stuck at the bottom, opened a few inches at the top and slammed shut as Jerry lost his grip on the brass knob.
Jerry leaned into the door and pulled up on the knob to free the misshapen door.
“I thought you’d like to meet my new boyfriend,” Beth smiled.
Jerry’s former best friend, Heinrich, winked.
“Beth,” Jerry said, “You’re warped.”

TJ

Five frizzy Magenta wigs bobbed at varying heights among the
Frankenfurters and the stick-figure blondes in their grandmothers’
slips. The one Columbia who’d gone all out with the glittering tuxedo
and top hat was about 50, and the Riff Raffs looked like they’d be
more at home at the VFW next door. It was an odd collection of
characters, to be sure, but Larry, having tracked down a pair of
tightie-whities he felt comfortable wearing in public and some
birth-control glasses, forgot he was an accountant and joyously leapt
forward to join the “Time Warp.” Don’t dream it. Be it.

Steven

I take a handful of night and pull.

The darkness stretches, warps, deforms around me. The empty dark
shifts to the dark of sweaters, coats, and stinking gym shoes.

Outside the closet door, Marcus and Josephine are putting their son to
bed. They are older than I remember. Happier, after retiring years
ago. After they stopped hunting my kind. My offspring.

Their son cries – he knows I’m here in the closet again. They laugh,
tell him that I don’t exist, and go downstairs.

The demon hunters’ son cries alone in his bed.

I hush him with one long claw.

Planet Z

One week out of jail, I’m back to robbing homes.

The floorboards are warped from all the years of damp.

I walk across them as slowly as I can, but they still creak with every step.

Thank God my Aunt Gertie is deaf. She’ll have no idea I’m here.

I reach into the cookie jar and pull out a wad of bills, stuffing it into my pocket.

“Put it back, Carter,” says the old woman. I turn around, she’s got a shotgun pointed at my head. “I saw you in the mirror.”

Yeah, I know. She taught me better.

Dammit.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 Vestiphobia

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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I’ll be doing Storyfest in Second Life on Saturday, so if you want to hear my same old crap in a whole new venue, come on by!

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Zackmann

“You should hire my client. He has starred in the live action versions of several popular
cartoons. He needs a stunt double but not for stunts. He does is own stunts. You can get
government grants too because he has a serious medical condition.”
“I like your client and I want him to audition him. Although I am relatively sure a human with
vestiphobia may indeed qualify for employment grants, it is very normal for a feline Tom cat
to not want to wear Clothes. I must admit when my credit card bills come I wish my wife had
vestiphobia. ”

Todd S.

“No Mommy, it burns!” screamed little Suzie, streaking naked from the office, overweight nurse in chase.

“The psychiatrist said it was Vestiphobia.” offered Suzie’s mother.

“Nonsense, there is no such thing.” said the doctor dismissively, the nurse returning with the tranquilized Suzie.

Suzie’s mother frowned as the doctor removed the tranquilizer dart and dressed Suzie in the pink dress and patent leather Mary Janes she had supplied.

“Now, we just bring her back slowly…” said the doctor as he administered an injection.

Little Suzie blinked her eyes open, looked at her mother sadly, and disintegrated into a pile of ash.

Tom

Lucas Pendergast had vestiphobia. It was triggered by a tragic collision between a leisure suit and a purple tunic. Scared young Lucas for life. If the DMV inspector hadn’t been a Brahma its doubtful Lucas would’ve passed the test in a bed sheet. Five years later Mr. Pendergast was once again favored by the gods with the same DMV inspector. He and his bed sheet were now the proud possessors of a class C license. Lucas became an ultra-long distance trucker, sleep, ate, lived in his cab. When he died his only request was to be buried in the buff

Robert

Nothing Butt the Truth by Boomer Bob

He held the truth once and he knew it!

At one time he had held it close, caressed it, and put it deep into his pockets for safe keeping.

No matter how hard he tried to conceal it he held truth.

Last night he checked his pockets to make sure it was there.

It wasn’t!

His worst fears had come true.

The truth wasn’t safe anymore with him since his fear of the naked truth had left him fearing ever being clothed in it and now he wonders how can he bare it?

Justin

I sit in the tattered remains of my happy place, the tiny corner of the shack. I look with dismay at the corpse of my pitiful mother. When she wasn’t beating me with twisted wood, she practiced witchcraft. She said it was to feed us, but I know she only craved power. I watch the tiny imps possessing the marshmallows scoot around her body, making trails in the floor wax mother forced me to keep pristine. The protective wax will make it easier to clean mother’s fluids from the wood. I banish the imps with bittersweet tears and start scrubbing.

—

Charles stared at his white cotton shirt and pants, the only clothing whose touch didn’t terrify him. His crotch turned yellow and wet. The smell of urine wafted up to his nostrils. He started to itch all over and hyperventilate. His skin. It was going to tear off his skin. He pictured it getting pulled back, revealing muscle and bone. An unearthly scream crawled from his throat like a spider. Something grabbed him and pulled, and then, he opened his eyes to see someone had dragged out of the rack of pink sweaters he had fallen into at the store.

Danny (110 words)

The convertible quickly pulls up to the drive through window, Dr. Jarred is waiting. “Welcome to Jarred’s Psychology hut. Please state your name and problem.”

“My name is Elliot Hunt, and I’m scared of clothing! Now I’m charged with indecent exposure and called a sexual offender! What do I do?!”

Dr. Jarred replies, “Yes, couldn’t help but notice your erection, you need calm down and be less happy to see me. Fear of clothing is called Vestiphobia, here’s the cure. Imagine what your life will be like when you know that you are not “defective.” Now put some fucking clothes on, and be grateful your mother didn’t name you Mike. Next!”

TerrazaByte

It’s never a comforting time when we go visit the in-laws. They both suffer from vestiphobia, which is a fear of clothing. I understand when they tell us that clothing makes them feel nauseous and claustrophobic.

The problem I have is that this fear supposedly extends to the clothing that others have on when they come over to visit.

I have tried to be open minded to their phobia but it’s becoming difficult ever since we gave them that video camera last Christmas.

Now when we step through the door, I feel the lights go up and grandpa yells ACTION!

Norval Joe

Jeremy lay a still as he could in the sweat sodden sheets of his small bed. His slow, shallow breaths sounded to him like a hurricane. He knew they had to hear. Slowly he turned his head just enough to look from the corner of his eye at the chair by his desk, his turtle neck sweater hung there, a faint outline in the oblique glow of his night lite. It raised a limp fabric arm in greeting and smiled razor sharp teeth and licked its blood red lips. Jeremy lay as still as he could, his heart beating madly.

TJ

One of the greatest Bat villains to grow out of the world of groovy
counter-culture was Jaybird, a dastardly ne’er-do-well who would enter
a crowded bank lobby or shopping mall and with a RIP! FOOM! GAWK! get
naked. Jaybird would mug for the cameras, grab all the loot and streak
away, leaving dazed witnesses unable to describe what they’d seen. The
Caped Crusaders would then chase after Jaybird – “Get back here, my
vestiphobic chum!” – but without any luck. Network censors were
appalled by this character, however, and forced Julie Newmar to keep her
clothes on. Thus Catwoman joined the cast.

Steven the Nuclear Man

The Senator glared at me. “Why is the – enemy combatant – naked? Those hippies already hate this place.”

I stared back. “He refuses clothes, Senator.” My squad mixed with the Senator’s blue-suited toadies. “We don’t know why,” I lied. Simmons handed the jumpsuit to the Senator.

Too late, the prisoner yelled behind soundproof glass. Hidden threads, woven into holy symbols, touched the Senator’s hands. He screamed in pain.

Moments later, my squad stood over the demonic corpses of the Senator and his aides. The “enemy combatant” shifted between human and demonic form.

“This’ll be fun to explain,” Simmons said.

Planet Z

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Spread a virus that made people deathly afraid of their clothing.

Then spray the cure for the virus on his own clothing line.

He’d corner the market in clothes.

Yeah, he tried to do things legit. But feather boas and bell-bottoms were out, damn the fickle the public.

Now, they’d be in, and everything else would be out.

The day he released the virus, it took a while, but pretty soon everybody was wandering around naked.

And they liked it. Never wanted to go back.

Well, okay. They liked the boas.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 “Consternation” and “Floor Wax” and “Firewood” and “Deadly Marshmallows”

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Tom

I dropped floor wax onto firewood it created deadly marshmallows.

I consternationed for some time whether to give Timmy marshmallows.

They glistened in the sun like caramelized candy cotton clouds.

Timmy was a dick one less Timmy one less dick.

I put the marshmallows next to the white kindergarten paste.

“Poison Marshmallows, don’t eat,” read the sign atop the Marshmallows.

Timmy read the sign and popped two into his mouth.

It wasn’t long before Timmy was rolling on the floor.

His eyes glazed and turned a lovely shade of white.

Come to think of it Jimmy is a dick too.

Zackmann

Lit the firewood wanting to relax after a long day of house cleaning about read The Deadly
Marshmallows a Harry Potter farce. Just as I sat down the neighbor knocked on my backdoor.
“Hi, I saw the use the back door sign. I think you may have used too much floor wax on the front
deck. That will take days to dry.”
“I am hoping it will cause the zombies some consternation also hoping they can’t read.”
“Really, aren’t zombies always consternated?”
“Good point but it might be fun to watch if they fall for the waxed deck.”

Luke Poplin

I wake up on the cold floor of an underground tunnel, a piece of firewood and a bloody grocery bag scattered around me. I rub my head then use the blood covered hand to swat away cogs floating around my head.

A janitor, slowly spreading floor wax at the tunnel entrance, turns its head slowly toward me as I approach.

“Catherine”, I gasp jumping back in consternation, gazing into cold zombie-like eyes.

Her head burns and swells like a flaming marshmallow. It swells and swells until…

I wake up in a cold sweat and run to the mirror.

Still Luke.

Chris

It started when my friend and I were at camp (in the woods), hanging out.

“Kalobe, I’m going down to the river, want to come?”

“No thanks Joe.” I said.

“Okay.” Walking down with some marshmallows, he turned the corner and
was out of sight. A moment later there was a ear splitting scream. I
ran to the creek. The ground was covered in marshmallows! As I
watched, they moved together growing bigger and combining. They
followed me as I ran. And, just in time, got inside the car.

Right now I wish I’d taken driving lessons.

Steven

“Consternation!” Grandpa yelled. “Colonel Mustard in the library with
the marshmallows!”

I smiled, cold in my army uniform. Grandpa’s fireplace couldn’t even
heat the room. He rose shakily, and I frowned. Richer than Midas,
but has no heater, won’t get his hip replaced, wouldn’t even pay for
Sue’s hospital bills…

I clamped that thought down.

His liver-spotted hand landed on my shoulder, then tapped where my
nametag read Ketchup. “It’s funny, you making colonel. Too bad Sue
didn’t get to see it.”

I just pushed him onto the freshly waxed floor. The sound of his hip
shattering sounded like vengeance.

David

I wanted to run, consternation filled my heart. Deadly marshmallows flew past my head. Missing their mark by inches. I regained my senses and did run like hell, as a volley from the firewood bazooka smashed against the wall where I stood, not a moment ago. My socks slipped as I tried to cross the freshly waxed floor. The cinders from the firewood blast lit our home aflame. Mobile homes are not flame retarded. In the midst of reloading, her booze soaked frock burst into a fiery inferno. In an instant she and our divorce proceedings went up in smoke.

Danny

Much to my consternation, some idiot (me) poured Floor Wax all over the Firewood. I was told it would get the fire to burn hotter. Now, after lighting the fire ablaze, we’re trying to Roast Marshmallows over the toxic flames. All of the toxic fumes from the floor wax are getting into the Marshmallows, giving them a toxic yet very tasty hint of wax in the soft center of the marshmallow. I bite into the gooey center, and much to my consternation, I fall absolutely in love with this pile of toxic gooey goodness. Now my doctor tells me I have cancer.

TJ

Some little girls are described as having an inner light. Not Susie.
Little Susie had more of an inner dark. When she overheard her
family’s hushed tones planning a trip to Yellowstone National Park,
she suspected with consternation they were planning to leave her in the
woods. Well the best defense, as they say, is a good offense. So she
merrily went along with it. And while her father was out gathering
firewood for their campfire, Little Susie carefully shaped and powdered
some floorwax into the form of marshmallows. Those deadly s’mores
were the last thing any of them tasted.

TerrazaByte

I came home early to create the perfect romantic evening for our first anniversary.
I cleaned the house, waxed the floors and prepared the finest of meals.
When she came home, she was so surprised and loved being pampered.
The grand finale was to be roasting marshmallows by the fire as we snuggled together.

As I came back in from getting the firewood and roasting skewers, I slipped on the freshly waxed floor…
fell over the couch…
hit her in the head with the firewood…
and stabbed the cat with the skewers.

Imagine my consternation as they both lay motionless.

Norval Joe

Mr. Parker was a veteran Boy Scout leader and thought he had seen it all, from lighting firewood with a blowtorch to blowing up the out house. “Johnny,” he asked with a sheepish smile of consternation. “What are you putting on your marshmallow?” “My Dad developed it,” he said. “It’s a mixture of edible polymers from floor wax and walnut shells. It will allow me to toast marshmallows without catching them on fire.” Pop rocks are candies that make small crackling sounds when it contacts saliva. It doesn’t compare to what happened when Johnny touched the marshmallow to his tongue.

Planet Z

To our consternation, Aunt Edith had applied a liberal amount of floor wax to the bucket of firewood in the living room

She wanted to make them shiny and look good.

So when It was time for dessert, Uncle Morty put marshmallows on the prongs and started up the fireplace.

The logs caught quickly, releasing a toxic cloud.

Deadly marshmallows, they were.

Aunt Edith. Judy. The twins.

If it weren’t for the fact I’m in an environment suit, I’d be dead with them.

Bubble boy, immunodeficiency disorder.

Call it whatever, but it saved my life.

So, how about some marshmallows?

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-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 “In my happy place”

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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

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Tom

In my happy place there are racks and racks of ordinance. I go there to fire off a few thousand rounds. In the real world I do my best to be a beacon of unconditional love. My job is to reassure, divert self-recrimination, say everything is going to be OK. I absorb anger, spill out the milk of human kindness by the truckload. To renewth my soul I go to my happy place a free fire zone where things go boom. Infinite ammo with infinite moving targets. I know it puerile, but it helps me get me through the day.

Zackmann

There’s a bald guy parked on the corner saying “Hey kid, your a reader aren’t you? Got a free
audio book, right here. It will put you in your happy place, well actually mine will more likely
make you scream and grab your reproductive parts but you know how it goes.”
“Is that a good idea ?” I ask.
“Dare you to try it”
“Just one book”
“You’ll be back”
I don’t like the harm caused by other products marketed this way but I am happy to see the
podiobooks.com truck after every rodeo and concert.

David

My mind went dark. My heart beat stopped. My life bled dry. I was a lost within my own labyrinth of lust and when I awoke I was driven to kill. In the slaughter. In the murder. I found my new happy spot. It was the only thing to satisfy the pain that dwelt in my heart that never was to beat again. I did not ask to be turned. She was hot. She was willing and she was drunk; I had thought. The kissing was fantastic. The petting was mind blowing. The biting was intoxicating. Exhilarating. Painful. Then excruciating!

Danny

Once upon a time, while in my happy place, I was skipping down a path dreaming of a warm embrace. Then I suddenly tripped, falling flat on my face. Now, this was totally screwing with my mantra, this is supposed to be a happy place. Time to regroup; figure out where my happy place is, because I’m certain it cannot be found in a courtroom suing the owner of the sidewalk. So I went to the store, picked up some cement, and fixed the sidewalk myself. Now I’m back in my happy place, skipping down the path, dreaming of a warm embrace.

Terrazabyte

Blind dates always bring out the best in people. We have but a few hours to express our most endearing qualities. We show superlative manners and unsurpassed sensitivity when listening to family stories or thirty minute narratives about broken relationships.

Apparently two hours of this communiqué is all that is within me. I get to the second date but never to a third. I don’t know if it’s because the second date shows a truer view of myself or that my doctors insist on being there to unlock my jacket and medicate me… to keep me in my happy place.

I have a special place that I travel to when all that surrounds me is heavy with worry and unrest.

Every so often, this quest to reach this spot will take days to complete and yet on other days I find my trip was but a mere step away.

In each of these excursions to come across this unique area, the physical distance to traverse has always been identical; however, the directions to reach there are never the same.

Unknown to any map and never a picture taken, its bliss and beauty are exclusive to one although everyone can visit.

TJ

Emily has paste in her hair. Steven put it there.
Johnny laughed. Janie tried to help.
Ricky’s in the corner sobbing because
Jeremy threw a toy train at him.
I know this because Susie
Came running up to tell me.
Her developing sense of justice
Demands some satisfaction.
It seems like one child trips and falls,
Twelve people text each other about it
But no one helps him up.
So for me, this space, right here,
this 30-inch by 30-inch by 20-inch cave
underneath my desk, my first day of teaching?
This is the happiest place I can be now.

Norval Joe

I didn’t have much of a family life as a child. My father hated my mother and my mother hated me. Neither let me have a moment of happiness, if they could help it. So when she came into my life there was a wall built up around my heart I wasn’t quick to take down. But she snuck her way in and tore those walls down and filled me with happiness unlike anything I could imagine. When she walked out, she left a hole in my happy place. The joy poured out of my heart and left only pain.

Planet Z

A letter arrived at Utopia Colony from Disney.

It was a cease-and-desist order.

“We have the rights to ‘The Happiest Place On Earth’ and, by spending a lot of money on our Disneyland, feel that Utopia Colony infringes upon our registered trademark by actually creating the happiest place.”

Utopia Colony disagreed. “We have no crime, sickness, poverty, or pollution. We’ve earned that Happiest Place title. Come here and see for yourselves.”

So, the lawyers arrived. And the Utopians killed them all and used their bodies for fertilizer.

(You see, in Utopia Colony, killing annoying and unhappy outsiders isn’t a crime.)