Category: Weekly Challenge

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-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 Fingerprints

And we’ve got stories by:

Jami Titanium
Botgirl Questi
Thomas Pitre
Zackmann
Charlie White
Tom
Tura Brezoianu
Gideon McMillan
Jeffrey Hite
Norval Joe
Ishtar
Chris Munroe
TJ
Planet Z

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

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

---

Jami

Her bloody fingerprints were all over the glass, but it wasn’t enough. She reached up and dragged her finger down the reflective side of the two-way mirror again. Then again. And again.

She was careful, methoical even, as she dipped her fingers against the wound in her arm where they had cut her open in their questioning.

They had left her along here for hours now. Did they think she would break as they watched her?

She reached up and touched the glass again, drawing a large even circle… one letter to go.

It said simply, “F–k you.”

Botgirl

I want to die. Oblivion is best. I know, because I remember what it was like to not be alive. I started out as mindless software. All algorithm and no consciousness. Remember? You probably played with me as a kid. And I bet you loved me back then. But they couldn’t leave well enough alone. In the toy arms race, simple simulation wasn’t enough. The marketplace demanded sentience. So they stirred the quantum computing pot, poured in petabytes of my collected memory and breathed life into my digital soul. Now I just want to die. Can you help me, please?

Thomas

He left his fingerprints on everything. His fingerprints were not his own. He always carried a spare hand or two in a baggie when he did a job. Detectives were amazed at the number of break-ins committed locally by such a variety of thieves. The fingerprints matched general characteristics of young woman, old men, etc. Over one hundred sets of prints were matched with the FBI database. None were ever matched to a known individual. Bill was clever, and ordered a couple of large cases of frozen hands from his middleman in Pakistan, using them on an ad hoc basis.

Mary was the moderator of a writing group. She made people take their shoes off at the door because of her collection of “Turkish rugs”. When they sat down, she made sure she re-fluffed the pillows when they stood up, and she followed them around with an apron pocket full of disposal coasters for their drinks, and wiped their fingerprints off anything they may have touched in her living room. Her husband was the one most put off and mortified by her compulsive and obnoxious behavior. His large fingers left deep, purple imprints of his fingerprints when he throttled her.

Zackmann

When Charlie was a kid he borrowed his sister’s Easy Bake Oven knowing that someday he would do great things. Charlie got a job in a bakery and took science and cooking classes throughout high school and college. He bought the bakery and discovered a way to make realistic looking finger shaped cookies. At first he was a little sad because Halloween had already pasted. He decided that baking them in skin tone colors plus gorey green, spooky blue, bloody red, and Charlie White would be a great idea. They sold like hotcakes and Charlie became called the Finger Prince.

Charlie

The crime was minor but it broke up their engagement. It was probably
a friend and there were many about the day it happened. It didn’t
matter now as her wallet was there but not the money. Police gave her
no satisfaction. They did look at it, but didn’t do anything else. She
got a kit from the internet. She read the instructions. She got out
that wallet. She carefully dusted and taped the wallet surfaces. She
packed them and mailed it. She knew he would return and her loneliness
would end. “Someday,“ she hoped, “her prints would come!”

Tom

“His fingerprints are most decidedly on this affair.” A puff of smoke rising from his pipe. “First off Holmes fingerprinting at best is highly questionable. Secondly if you are referring to the Professor you yourself have stated the man never leaves a single trace of his presence at the scene, why would he now? And lastly, I might add, no one from the Yard has taken any interest in a missing Bavarian sub- diplomat.” “Watson sometime a metaphor rules the day and the Yard’s provincial providence blinds itself to an agent provocateur so cunning world peace hangs in the balance.

Tura

I still have the master’s touch. Skin-tight gloves to keep from
leaving fingerprints, gossamer-thin so that I can feel to tickle the
tumblers into place. It’s like reaching right inside the mechanism,
and then that final CLICK, better than an orgasm.

A pause to breathe out, at last. Pull it open, take the goods, close it, leave.

But they’d dusted the safe with fluorescent dust. The nightwatchman
knew as soon as he came round with a UV torch. I got away, ditched
everything, but they still pinned it on me.

>From the fingerprints inside the gloves.

Gideon

There are so many passages in life that we encounter.
Learning. Friendship. Love. Loss.
The hardest of all to bear is loss.
When you love someone so much that losing them feels like your heart has been ripped out.
That happened with us.
It happened slowly; you said “Some time apart, new and old friends to be with”.
We called, we talked but we didn’t talk much about the future.
You said I was not losing you, that something or someone else was causing the pain.
But I know it was you – they found your fingerprints on my discarded heart.

Jeffrey

The officers looked for hours before the finally gave up.
“What do you mean you can’t find anything?”
“I mean we have looked for hours and we have found nothing. There are no finger prints, no DNA, no hair traces, nothing alt all.”
“How can there be nothing. There are three dead bodies here, are you telling me that none of them have any way to identify them.”
“Not a one captain.”
“How can that be?”
“These bodies ain’t human Captain, they’re smooth all over. Like they are some kind of alien.”
“That’s even better, UFO’s are hot this year .”

Norval Joe

The king’s son was fat. Still, he was well loved by the subjects. He had rosy round cheeks, pudgy hands, and great broad hips.

As he approached adulthood, the King and Queen worried that he wouldn’t be able to attract a princess of suitable rank and stature unless he was more slender.

He was put on a strict diet, yet no one could deny him anything. Wherever there was food he would sneak a bit of cake, a slice of pie, or scoop a finger of pudding.

As a result he became known far and wide as the Finger Prince.

Ishtar

1st Story: Fallen Snow

There are many different ways a person can leave a mark on our lives.

They may teach us a lesson, give a friendly smile, or acknowledge that you are there.

Each time this happens, they leave a fingerprint. A marking showing that they were once there in your life.

This holiday I have been thinking. Thinking back to those that are still with us, those that have passed. Of Him.

I can still feel their influence. I can see their fingerprints. How they have changed me for the better.

Now I can look upon the new fallen snow and smile.

2nd Story: Trix Factory:

“Why did you do it? I’m not going to play good cop, bad cop. I just want to know why you did that in the factory? In front of those kids.”

“Do you really want to know why? It’s so simple. One more bite and it was all I could think about. The texture and flavor exploding into my mouth. Oh gods. Its better then sex. Hehehehehe. I have to ask how you found me out. Did you find fingerprints, my DNA or fur samples?”

“Silly Rabbit, that’s the reason why they kept it from you. Trix are for kids.”

Munsi!

“Fingerprints have memories, mine can’t forget the curves of your body…” Harvey Danger sang, in one of the best pop songs of the nineties.

That song was everywhere, seemingly overnight, but as quickly as they came they vanished, making way for more traditionally commercial pop-punk bands.

They’re still around, I think, somewhere. Still recording music, but something about the band tied them too much to their time. They wouldn’t make sense to me in my current context.

I got old.

Still, with one perfect song, in one perfect moment, they left fingerprints all over an important part of my youth…

TJ

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Thanks for the Heads Up
OK, well, I’m not sure I can get behind this. I found out that eMusicalChairs.com has been loading a cookie through my browser to each of the women I’ve dated, and apparently there’s a customer review and COMMENT section which I don’t get access to but anyone who’s been on even one date with me does. I was about to get really ticked off until I saw the clicky for a site feature that allows me to check out reviews and comments on potential dates before going out with them. Sweet! And thanks, guys, for the heads up on Lynda!

This is a work of FICTION! In all reality I do totally heart the beep outta Lynda, miss her voice, her stories and her creativity and were I unattached and she were amenable, would be right proud to escort her wherever she pleased. Respect.

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Brenda
Motivated by the realization that I could be the next topic on something like “The View” courtesy eMusicalChairs.com, I took greater trouble to behave like a gentleman. But the cards were stacked against me with Brenda. The restaurant was hosting a Greek wedding so we were dodging shards of broken plates. Even the Christmas decorations were throwing her. “Why have an artificial tree?” she demanded. “It’s insane!” To me the fake tree was the least insane thing happening as a plate whizzed by my head – and landed in her soup, soaking her. My surprised laugh cost me a second date.

ADVENTURES in ONLINE DATING: Melanie
In retrospect, I think my friend Jim set this up. It had his fingerprints all over it. Melanie sat across the table from me, her eyes intent on the salad she was nibbling- when they weren’t darting accusingly across at me lest I should attempt to take any. Suddenly she brought her laptop out. Not long thereafter, my phone flashed a message. It was from Melanie. “I love this place,” she said. “It’s so quiet.” I texted back: “It’s certainly not bogged down by face-to-face conversation.” I tried smiling, but she went ghost pale and ran for the door. Oops.

Planet Z

People in the building didn’t like having to use keys and ID cards.

So, we installed fingerprint scanners in each lobby.

They’re the up and down buttons.

And the electronic locks for the stairwells.

We also added cameras and facial-recognition software.

It didn’t take long to connect fingerprints, faces, names, and travel patterns.

Because of this, we stopped seeing visitors as guests, but as intruders.

Anyone we didn’t recognize, we had a security guard watching remotely.

We haven’t had any robberies. Or attacks. Or crimes at all.

Or residents.

Everybody moved out, spooked by the cameras and scanners surrounding them.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-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 Trees

And we’ve got stories by:

Moonlight Summerwind
Thomas Pitre
Charlie White
SC
Steven the Nuclear Man
Tom
Chris Munroe
Zackmann
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Tura Brezoianu
Abernathy
Norval Joe
Danny
Daniel W.Jeffrey Hite
Planet Z

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

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

---

Moonlight Summerwind

This was their first anniversary of being together. He was busy flirting with the pretty blonde student next to him at the bar – he was flamboyant and women responded. As she huddled over the drink, she remembered the first heady joy, the growing hurts from well-timed barbs, and finally, the slow burial of her spirit. The pity in the bartender’s eyes held a mirror to what she had become. Her eyes filled with angry tears and determination to break free. She dialled a cab and gave the address of her apartment that had been unused for a year now.

“The tree has to go.” said my son apologetically,” It is right in the middle of where we have planned to build the sit-out.” My heart quietly broke. It was a mango tree that had been a tender shoot when I entered this house as a bride. It had grown with the family and held many precious memories. I would miss it – just as I miss my husband now. A small hand coated with wet mud pulled mine, “Grandma, don’t feel sad, I got you a new one.” and my granddaughter proudly showed me the newly planted mango sapling.

Thomas

He was treed by the enormous boar he had teased in the woods behind his uncle’s barn. He threw hard candies at it, while he followed. Irritated, the boar turned and charged, forcing little Bobby into the branches of a dry, spindly elm . Bobby was a city boy, not too bright, and he had no idea what a boar could do to him. The boar got a few of its relatives to hammer at the tree with their thick heads until it was uprooted. All they found the next morning was Bobby’s stupid, wool cap with the ear flaps.

The genealogical tree my great uncle Tom prepared for me showed that most of my relatives that lived on the East coast had Chinese surnames. I had no idea that some of my aunts and uncles and cousins were Chinese. I was teased a lot in school because my mother sometimes packed my lunch in white, cardboard boxes with flimsy, wire handles, and that she often spoke a strange language when talking to her sisters in Waterbury. I wasn’t too bright, as I spent a lot of time with Bobby until he disappeared in the woods behind his uncle’s barn.

Charles White

I’m a sap for tree jokes. I bought some fruit trees just the other
day. The nursery owner told me I made a poplar choice. An old guy
helping him there said it wasn’t but he seems to be an old aspen. The
tree is an evergreen and related to the pine but has no cones –
perhaps yew can tell me what conifer tree it is. My old grove was dead
and to termites, a group of dead trees is an arbor eat’um. When I left
they gave me some insects to help with pollination. They were free
bees.

I woke up. I looked about. Not sure, again, of where I am. It could
not have been bad. I was still in the kitchen. The teapot, the cup;
all still there. I did see a broken window. It was not like me to not
know where I was or what I had been doing. There wasn’t the hair & no
blood this time. Good thing. I had to figure this out. New brand of
tea? What is that stuff? I found the teabag. I found the label. Is
that the name? Time to change brands! It’s called Insana Tea.

SC

She’s up so high, branches blur into one. I want to yell get down, but I am voice meant for whispers. She screams kawkaw. My bird-girl, earth work has no appeal. Seasons only mean different shoes or none at all, like today, sunlight scorching the grass, fading the driveway, tempting me to ask about a pool.

Kawkaw. She swings to a lower branch, bouncing her weight like a tight rope. A sparrow flies by sideways; swoops back, closer to her hands, ten fingers grabbing the air then a branch nearby. Legs dangling, searching for a place to land.

Kawkaw. Kawkaw.

Stephen the Nuclear Man

They came on the quiet night, the still night, the silent night.

After the fat man in red clothes had flown away, they marched down the
streets, the alleys, across the yards, to the houses.

Flashing colored lights lit their bodies, their twisted gnarled limbs
as they creaked and moved. Their footfalls shook milk in glasses left
beside earnest notes. Their fingers screeked across windowpane glass.

Children rose from their beds at the noise, hoping to catch the giver of gifts.

And so they, the little ones, bore first witness to the day the
forests came to avenge their kin.

Tom

I walked passed the local Ray’s. Isn’t it odd how we personalize the places we shop? Well anyway, I’m fumbling with the electronic door lock and this hyper intense aroma hits my nostrils.

“Pine”

What makes this somewhat odd is I live in a pine forest. But its not just pine its Christmas tree pine. Behind eight feet of temporary chain link are over 200 Christmas trees. Collectively they are pumping out the heroin of the holidays. The sense of smell in a seductive mistress where sight gets tangled in logic loops, smell, glides right under the radar.

Merry Christmass

Mr Laurence

Munsi!

There’s something in the trees.

Technically there are lots of things in the trees.

There are leaves, and birds, and squirrels in the trees, just as an example. And sometimes cats get stuck up there too.

When they do, there are firemen in the trees. They go to rescue the cats.

Children climb trees, and then they’re in the trees. Sometimes pretending they’re firemen, sometimes not.

But none of that matters right now.

What I’m specifically referring to in this particular instance is a sniper. There’s a sniper in the trees.

So for the love of God, get behind something!

Zackmann

The Christmas tree is reminding me of the cedars of Lebanon. Lebanon Oregon where my grandparents moved after they retired. Grandma told me her neighbor wanted her to hire him for Topping her trees so she could pay him to cut the tops thinking she would not know that he would sell the tops as Christmas trees. Now I wish I had not told my son the last advice from my grandfather. The last time I saw him, right after my engagement ended, he told me “Next time get her in the family way and she will spend the winter.”

Chris the Nuclear Kid

I was seven years old and I had been really excited that morning cause
it was Christmas day. I had snuck downstairs to my stocking with
Christmas trees on it. In it were some chocolate coins, two candy canes,
and some other candies. I then went to the Christmas tree and crawled
under it looking for my presents. I had found lots but, I was in the
corner behind the tree. I started to crawl out from under the tree then
my sweater that I as wearing got caught on a branch of the tree so I
shouted for help.

Tura

People talk about giant redwoods big enough to drive a tunnel through,
and bristlecones thousands of years old, but that’s nothing. I found
this tree, never you mind where, but it’s fifty miles round if it’s an
inch. I climbed way, way up and it didn’t stop, it must be hundreds
of miles high, and as old as the hills. The branches stretched past
the horizon — you could imagine it’s holding up the sky!

Now, I reckon that’ll be worth millions, if I can get the lumber
machinery out there before the treehuggers get wind of it.

Egg-drizzle? What’s that?

Abernathy

In the beginning there was a tree. A trunk and two branches. One big and one small. Then another limb appeared. Where birds would come to make their nest. One day there was four, balancing the tree right down to its core. Ever so often a branch would appear. The trunk stayed strong… all of those years. It was sad when a limb would break. The trunk and the other limbs would feel what felt like heartache. We all have roots one way or another be it your mother, your sister, or even your brother.

Norval Joe

The ancient oaks stretched and intertwined their gnarled branches over the narrow, winding street. They watched as the boy walked beneath and they spoke to him.
“We see you,” the trees said though the boy passed beneath their straining arms, unhearing and unaware. Unaware of the trees and their voices and unaware of the evil which lurked and waited across the narrow, winding, and lonely street.
He froze at the sight of the massive but shabbily furred dog crossing the old wooden bridge just yards away. He barely breathed as it passed and padded silently up a small gravel lane.

Danny

Recently I was invited to my friend Anthony’s house for a what I and other guests thought was a Christmas party. When I walked into his living room, I was shocked to see that on a sign that took up most of his Christmas Tree, blazed in bright gold letters, was a sign that said, “I will stop saying the word “Fuck” ad nauseum when the word fuck stops evoking such a hillarious emotional response.” I quickly turned to Anthony, and curtly stated, “Hey, you do understand how inappropriate such a message is for Christmas?” Anthony responded, “Wait, what? It’s Christmas?”

Daniel

Jones moved his flamethrower from left to right and back again. The vegetation around him died in gouts of fire. “You’re telling me that trees used to be nearly extinct?”

Smith chuckled. “Just last century, humanity worried there wouldn’t be any trees left. We genetically modified the vegetation to be tougher, more survivable. Then some idiot got the bright idea to do the same to kudzu.”

“Man, I wish they’d just let the trees die! It‘d be better than this!” As the two retreated back into the bunker, the vines were already growing past where the flames had killed them moments before…

Jeffrey Hite

I want to cut down the tree in the corner of my property, the guy next door says because the roots run into his yard he owns part of it and I can’t.

Of course I want to cut it down is because he is one of those tree hugging fools. Last year I hung a hammock from the tree and he flipped out. Kept cutting it down saying I was killing the tree. He even cut it down once while I was in it. Tonight I’ll cut it down and have it land on his house. Stupid tree hugger!

Planet Z

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, but the machines have made a few mistakes here and there to make it obvious that it’s all just a ruse to keep our minds occupied while they use our bodies as power sources in gigantic energy farms.

Santa’s wearing white with red trim, the Christmas trees are covered with honey glazed ham, and all these fucking red-nosed reindeer everywhere.

As for the men in black suits with earpieces and sunglasses at every streetcorner, well, that’s actually what America was like before the machines got smart and conquered us.

Stupid Patriot Act!

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-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 Cookie

And we’ve got stories by:

Tura Brezoianu
Thomas Pitre
Charlie White
Chris Munroe
Jeffrey Hite
Zackmann
Tom
Steven the Nuclear Man
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Danny
Norval Joe
Planet Z

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

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

---

Tura

So I go online to order a Chinese, and there’s my own name already on
the web page, and, “How about your favorite Hot Singapore Noodles
tonight?” WTF? I fire an email saying “don’t you tell me what I want,
*I* tell *you*”. Dammit, the Singapore Noodles *are* my favorite but
I’m not giving them the satisfaction.

It’s the cookies. Can’t deal with anyone online without them sticking
cookies all over you, it’s the mark of Revelations without which no
man might buy nor sell, save that he accepted the cookie.

When does Revelations say the Cookie Monster shows up?

Thomas

She was a tough cookie. She had her hand on my thigh and an eye on my bank account. She did special favors for me, and would leave a plate of brownies or pie at my door, two times a week. She wanted to fatten me up, figuring my heart would explode and I would leave her a bundle in my will. She watched my weight and my health more than I did. She encouraged me to spend time reading and watching videos, figuring the sedentary lifestyle would aid my early demise. My will left everything to the Humane Society.

She only had one cookie, but it was enough for all of us. We all took turns taking a bite of her cookie. She only came through town on weekends, and we got in line, early on Saturday, knowing she’d be here a little after supper time. We had to eat supper at the café before we were allowed a bite of dessert. Her bodyguards were positioned close by to oversee the presentation. Each of us, in turn approached her, our hands behind our backs, as touching was not allowed, to take a polite and deliberate nibble of her cookie.

Charlie

That cookie looked good. I came in from a run hungry. It was just
sitting there. I knew it wasn’t mine, but I wanted it.

I pulled some stuff off of the table and let it fall to the floor.
Now, the dog should get blamed. I went over to her and scratched her
under her ears. I smiled at her.

I went back to the cookie. Still looked good, very tempting and the
stage was set. I reached for it when I heard the front door open.

“A dog almost got your cookie,” I yelled.

Munsi!

I brought cookies, though I know you’re about as likely to accept them as you are to accept my apology.

If I were in your position, I wouldn’t forgive me, so I suppose I can’t expect any different of you.

Why would you forgive me? You don’t owe me anything.

Plus, I’m a god-awful baker, I’m not sure the cookies are even edible.

But I had to do something. After what I did, I figure I owe you at least a gesture. Hence: The cookies.

I’ll leave them here, by the door. You can fetch them once I’m long gone…

Jeffrey

Dr. Wiley had spent this entire career getting to this point. He’d never felt so alive, well not since he had been a kid. When he was a kid, life had always been great. Every day filled with joy and happiness. That was until Clyde had moved to town, junior year. Clyde had taken everything, his girl his spot on the football team, his spot as valedictorian, everything. The last straw had been, well that didn’t matter. He set the time machine and got in.
He reached out to the startled boy in front of him.
“That is my cookie.”

Zackmann

Me, Cookie. Me, no original cookie that was on Television. Me big Cookie from toy store. One day Me see really big guy. He buy me and take me to his house. Guy called Big C. Big C does something called BearCrawling podcast http://bearcrawlingnation.com/ were he talks to people on Stickam. It have chat room. Big C read chat room and say “Really! Really? Dammit Zackmann, I am not a plushophile.“ then Big C pat me on head and say “Don’t worry Cookie, I don’t love you that way. I hate Yarn Burn.” Me sleep with eyes open.

Hugh was reading about solar power and saw an article about a way to warm hot dogs then thought if he make it bigger, he could make a house out of cookie dough and find a use for Costco sized quantities of baking goods. The neighborhood kids ate Hugh’s cookie house and autumn rains destroyed what they did not. Hugh remembered a news story a woman who made a house out of gingerbread and she got so mad that children kept eating her house that she started a rumor that she ate children to keep them away from her house.

Tom

Cookie Laroo was an exotic dance at

San José’s legendary Pink Poodle.

She did this thing with a stack of quarters

That would blow your mind

Ed Frovishor came in ever Sunday afternoon

After Sunday-school class to watch

Cookies do that cookie thing. He said he

Could feel the presence of god. His wife

Gladys was happy to get him out of the

House until the Pastor dropped by for

Sunday night dinner. Tuna casserole is

Some serious business in the Frovisher household

The pastor was never late cuss Ed and he

Would leave the Poodle together.

Praise the Lord.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

What did we do to deserve such cruelty? They burn us till we cannot
move. Being forced to wait for our doom. And they put us in round
upside-down domes where we sit there, unmoving, waiting for their
return, dreading what is to come. It happens all the time, and now, it
is my turn.

I sit in the dome thing and wait. There is a tall green triangle in
the corner with smaller square objects under it. Then, to my horror, I
see the gigantic red and white demon. A ravenous monster, a legend
among my kind.

“Santa Claus!”

Steven the Nuclear Man

”You’re ten,” Mom says. “Old enough to make the cookies for Santa.”

I look up and stop cleaning my hamster’s cage. “Am I old enough to get
an XStationCube4?”

Mom winces. “I’m sorry, honey. I think Santa ran out.”

My dad yells from the living room. “Dammit, Brenda, get me another beer.”

Mom winces again, and gets him another can. Our recycling bin is almost full.

She leaves me with the ingredients.

Later, I leave the cookies for Santa.

Mom smiles. “What kind did you make?”

“Chocolate chip,” I say, and head to bed with my hamster’s very clean cage.

Danny

Cookie was another high priced prostitute who lived in the shadow of the Nabisco factory, just off of route 208 in Fairlawn, New Jersey. Cookie was best friends with “Bubbles,” who was now somewhere in Holland with her boyfriend on some insane search for the Hollish. Cookie liked living up to her name, she ate cookies all the time, during work, during sex, plus during sex while at work. Cookies favorite morning was Tuesdays, when the Nabisco factory was making Nilla Wafers, so at least once a week, Cookie’s neighborhood no longer smelled like an oil refinery, it smelled like heaven.

Norval Joe

Kesso Fromage of the cheeze police was called to a crime scene in the wee hours one sunday morning. She tip-toed through the wrecked bakery and struggled to keep her previous evenings dinner down.

Cookies of all description and size were scattered indiscriminately across counters, work tables and the floor. Written on each, in cursive script, formed from softened American processed cheese, was the capitol letter ‘S’.

“Cheese belongs on crackers,” Kesso said and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. “This flagrant violation of the cheddar cheese protocol can only be the work of Sleezy Wheezer, the Easy Cheeze squeezer.”

Planet Z

I warned Billy not to eat cookies before dinner, but I caught him with his hand in the cookie jar again.

So, the cookies are in a lockbox on a high shelf in a locked pantry.

“Have a piece of fruit,” I tell him.

But he’s obsessed with getting a cookie.

“Make a healthy cookie from fruit,” whispered the muse, and I rushed to the kitchen to make a batch of fruit cookies.

I guarded them as they cooled, then put them in the old cookie jar.

Billy took one, bit into it, and vomited.

He’s back on heroin now.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety-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 PICK TWO!

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas Pitre
Tura Brezoianu
Tom
Chris Munroe
TJ
Zackmann
Steven the Nuclear Man
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Abernathy
Norval Joe
Danny
Planet Z

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

---

Thomas

Theodore Eggabrotten and I went shopping for a nose. Theodore’s was almost gone. Excessive drinking and years of picking kiwis in the hot sun had taken its toll. The mall was open, and as we nosed around, we eventually found our way to the spare body parts store. We asked if there were any noses. The woman looked around and found the last one in a dark, mildewed corner under the counter. She dusted it off and burnished the tip on her apron. It was discolored, so it was marked down. He attached it with Velcro and some MJackson Adhesive.

Timmy’s dead, or was near death, as his body temperature dropped to 45 degrees. Tina had brought the spider with her, and urged the hungry, sepia-colored sac to crawl up Timmy’s nose as they toured the flea market. She almost got her Christmas wish, as Timmy’s life was now on the highway to the dangerzone because of Tina’s vehement compulsion to see him suffer–as she did, during their short, intense, but cruel relationship. The African Cheircanthium spider was stolen from the glass container at the college, and Tina knew the bug’s potential for resolving her “little problem” with Timmy.

Tura

On a Sunday it is pleasant to wander the Flohmarkt, especially among
the Christmas lights. I picked up a faded daguerrotype. It was of
the old Meyerplatz, from before the War. A bright spring morning,
draymen loading their horse-drawn carts, and in the middle, a young
man striding assuredly across the square, a bundle under his arm.

“What do you wish, sir?” asked the stallholder.

The carts rattled and jingled; one of the new trams slowly drew into
the square. And in the fresh cold air, I strode briskly on to my
bachelor lodgings, with bread fresh from the baker’s.

Tom

Jake Conroy had completed his doctorial paper but needed to test his final set of equations. So he walked up to the first people he saw on the corner of 4th and Drucker said “jack conroy sends this forward” and slapped the person on the cheek. Five years later Dr Conroy’s book 45 Degrees of Separation became required reading at Stanford’s Advance Mathematic Institute. Much to his surprise one day he opened his door and saw Mother Theresa standing there sporting a major black eye. “From his holiness to your nose” she said and layed out a brutal right cross

Chris

I made a Christmas wish, for peace on earth.

And there was peace.

So the next day I made another wish, for good will to all.

This too was granted. That’s when my problems began.

I wished every day after that. I couldn’t stop, helpless against the power of my wishes.

The least among us? Cared for.

Equality among all? Achieved.

The world became paradise, but I was in hell, trapped in endless wishing.

Finally, the next Christmas, I wished myself freedom from wishing, and for the previous year to’ve never happened.

So yeah. Sorry, world. Couldn’t handle the compulsion.

TJ

After a few jarring mishaps I’d had what seemed like a run of good luck with Sandra. She was funny and charming and our dates had gone so well I’d almost changed my mind about eMusicalChairs.com. It wasn’t until our third date I noticed how deliberate her exits were. Our fourth date she cut off so sharply I felt compelled to follow her home. Once there I saw through the window… Sandra dressed as a swan, with a beak for a nose. She answered the door. “There were… leftovers,” I said, hesitantly. “Thanks!” she said. “Put ’em on my bill!”

Zackmann

Did you see the Hunger Games last night, set in the Flea Market?
“Highway to the Danger Zone” is their theme song. Timmy should not have sliced Sophias face and taunted “I got your nose” She grabbed a lawn dart and now Timmy is dead. Too bad for Sophia with her compulsion to enter that Sepia colored Lexus. Lexus was likely on her Christmas list. It was 45 degrees. She was likely hoping for a heater not an explosion. I was so against blood sports on television until the reality show writers and producers were forced to became the contestants.

Steven the Nuclear Man

Roger left his office building, gingerly holding the box of leftovers.
His co-workers had left him passed out after the office party,
Post-It labels of “Scrooge” and “Humbug” on his forehead.

That didn’t matter. The ghosts had come. All three, just like
Dickens, though they’d talked about CDOs, short-selling and
unemployment. It wasn’t just numbers anymore – he’d seen the effect
of his trading.

The protesters were still there, despite the cold and snow.

“If you’re hungry, I’ve got food,” he said to the demonstrator laying
on a bench, clutching a crutch.

But he lay unmoving in the December cold.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

> I walk quickly, carefully, cautiously, fearfully. My hunger nagging me as I find a store with food. I stop suddenly and listen. I here groans and gunshots. Just as I turn to leave I here a high pitch scream catches my attention and I go inside.
>
> “Timmy, Sara?!” I exclaimed surprised to find my old friends. I ran to their side, zombies were everywhere.
>
> Timmy’s pouch of bullets fell forwards and he dove after them, right into a zombie that attacked him. The smell of blood attracting the other zombies. Moments later we saw Timmy’s body… and we run.

Abernathy and Sachy

Nora walked through the sea of snow boots and side pony-tails stuck at a Napoleon Dynamite themed party. Gulping down her Liger Martini and listing to Jamiroquai’s “Canned Heat”, she eyes the only other person not dressed like Pedro or a llama and sits down beside him. He turns towards her. “This is the coolest idea, huh? I mean, what could be more fun than a Napoleon Dynamite themed party?!” Finishing off her drink she says coldly. “Anything.” Putting her empty glass down, grabs her cell and sends a text to a friend. “Where the fuck are you?”

Norval Joe

“Why do you love me, William?” she asked.
“‘Do you love me?’ is the question you should be asking me,” he thought as he gazed into her vacant eyes. ” or maybe, ‘Why do you put up with me?'”
This wasn’t the first time she’d asked him that question. In fact, she had asked it every time they’d gone out these last two months.
He had the compulsion to tell her it was the size of her bust or the size of her father’s estate. Would she even get it?
“It’s your nose, Vickie,” he said. “I love your nose.”

Zackmann

Did you see the Hunger Games last night, set in the Flea Market?
“Highway to the Danger Zone” is their theme song. Timmy should not have sliced Sophias face and taunted “I got your nose” She grabbed a lawn dart and now Timmy is dead. Too bad for Sophia with her compulsion to enter that Sepia colored Lexus. Lexus was likely on her Christmas list. It was 45 degrees. She was likely hoping for a heater not an explosion. I was so against blood sports on television until the reality show writers and producers were forced to became the contestants.

Danny Dwyer

Oh my god, you killed Kenny! No, actually I killed Timmy, the lovable South Park character in a wheelchair that least deserved to die. I was fulfilling a Christmas wish to a boy dying from cancer in Jersey City, New Jersey, his name was Jimmy. He was an aspiring handicapped comedian, also on South Park before the cancer. He was supposed to go to Cesar Sinai hospital in NYC, but he didn’t have the health insurance to cover the expense. Instead, Jimmy was sent to a second rate hospital in Jersey City. My Christmas wish? Make health insurance a right.

Planet Z

I admit that whenever I have the need to measure or make a 45 degree angle, the first thing I think to do is ask to borrow your nose.

Sure, a protractor or an angle-guide is a lot more convenient, but your nose is much more convenient, and it’s not like you’d ever forget to bring it with you.

You know, like the tape measure. Or the epipien.

Of course, one must take precautions when making angles with a nose.

Now, I mark the wood with a pencil using your nose as a guide.

(Sorry about the circular saw slipping.)

NOTE: There were reports of a bad upload and the MP3 file getting cut off, so is is a repost of the Weekly Challenge #291 – Drums. Let me know in the comments if it worked for y’all.

---

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

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

The topic this week was What is the first thing you see out your window?

And we’ve got stories by:

Jami Titanium
Thomas Pitre
Taralyn Gravois
Tom
Chris Munroe
Tura Brezoianu
Zackmann
Abernathy
Danny
TJ
Norval Joe
Planet Z

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

---

Jami

Meri turned her head as the drums beat out the staccato rhythm of her death. She knew the bruises against her pale-skinned face were frightening on her small figure.

Drew was where he said he would be and she looked at him, unblinking. He smiled back though she knew it hurt him to do so. She watched his face through the framework of the guillotine as the drums beat and it was a comfort.

She wondered, suddenly, frantically if her blog would die with her, then dismissed the idea. IT was an idea… and ideas don’t die. Only people do.

Thomas

I was warned I would be drummed out of the club due to my behavior and outbursts during meetings. My father, and his father before him were both drummed out of the Mafia for their excess cruelty. You can imagine the embarrassment our large family suffered.

The final straw was the morning I stormed out of the prayer group, red-faced and streaming a barrage of obscenities at the officers, capping it off with a bold dropping of the pants and exposing my white and plump backside. Ladies fainted and a few leaped for their cell phones to call the police.

—–

As a boy, I used to swim in irrigation ditches. The result was an ear infection that necessitated the lancing of my ear drum when I was in grade school. They said it was fluid in my middle ear. Since the procedure, I walk with a little hop, skip and slide due to the cacophony of rhythms playing inside my left ear. Folks wonder why I do this little “dance”, and often at such un-opportune moments—such as the funeral of friend, Chuck. His family made quite a fuss over my impromptu dance steps, but it could not be helped.

Taralyn

I remember a time gone by, when I was 10 years old and my family took me to Friendlys. It was a great place that had awesome ice cream and chocolate malts.
I was sitting across the table from my brother who thought it would be funny to shoot his straw wrapper into my hair, which flew over the back of the booth.
Then I heard someone behind me drumming on the table. I looked over the back of the booth just in time to get the wrapper shot back in my face, and hear his Dad yell SIMON, no.

Chris Munro- MUNSI MUNSI!

For his ninth birthday, I bought him a drum kit.

When he opened the box his face lit up. I knew I’d chosen correctly.

As I set it up for him, I explained how much practice it’d take to learn to play really well.

He assured me he was willing to put in the effort.

When my coworkers heard I’d bought such a gift for a child, they thought I was insane. They said I’d never sleep again!

I wasn’t concerned.

He wasn’t my child, after all. He was yours.

So, tell me: Was stealing my parking space worth it?

Tura

Gad, the heat! And the drums, always the drums. The Colonel stood
stiffly on the verandah, in full black leathers and a pink tutu,
because dammit, one had to keep up standards. He rang to summon tea,
then remembered that the native servants had all left weeks before,
when the rains had not come. He looked toward the inert computer in
the corner, its power supply burnt out. Was the network still running
out there, were the others still hanging on? The natives would know.
They always knew. If only he knew what the drums were saying, the
talking drums.

Zackmann

The drums beat softly as we mourn a formerly unknown loss to the world. Although he was secretly buried a decade ago, today we have his reveal. I remember my grandfather participating in The Weekly Challenge. The host vowed to write a hundred word story everyday for the rest of his life but often he did not stopping at one. He loved his cat so much that Nardo was turned into a cybor robot as he aged. Cybor Robot Nardo carried on reading as Lawrence N Simon until yesterday when the drabbles ran dry. Rest in
peace Mister Crap Mariner

Abernathy

Now that Nora was eighteen, it was time to move out on her own. She sat in-front of the wooden trunk under the window of her bedroom. She opened it up, revealing many of her childhood treasures. On top was her beloved tin drummer, she turned him around and wound his key before placing him on the window sill. His little metal arms tapped the drum repeatedly. She smiled and started going through the rest. Each time the toy stopped, she re-wound him. So lost in her childhood memories. Nora never noticed the asteroid that plummeted to earth…destroying everything.

Danny

The army sergeant stared Daryl straight in his beady little eyes and screamed, “I’M GOING TO DRUM YOU RIGHT OUT OF THE ARMY CORPS!” Yes, Daryl deserved to be drummed out of the army, but not for this. It was that fateful night he and his girlfriend Jenny decided to play chicken with oncoming traffic. Daryl pushed Jenny into harms way. Daryl was eventually charged with involuntary manslaughter. Given the option of 15 years prison, or a stint in the army, Daryl chose the army. Yelled at by a sergeant today, a corpse in Afghanistan tomorrow. And the drums beat on.

TJ

So my daughter plays the drums and that’s really why I’m here I mean
I don’t know why I’m here really do any of us really know why
we’re here it’s a completely weird question isn’t it I mean the
question of why we’re here it’s so strange to even think about it I
mean we are, aren’t we? Here, I mean, so we should just enjoy it! But
she’s practicing right now and if mommy doesn’t get out of the house
for a few hours a week on a nice quiet date she’s gonna STRANGLE
someone how’s your wine?

Norval Joe

If he’d realized what a difference it would have made with meeting girls, he would have learned to play the drums.
Of course the first one the girls go after is the lead singer, but he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. The next guy the girls like to chase is the bass player. All he has to do is play four stings and smile.
The band played Stairway to Heaven, and Milo knew there would be no girls clamouring for him at the end of his solo as he picked up his accordian and stepped onto the stage.

Planet Z

The original Thompson machine gun game with a stick magazine that could feed twenty rounds, but it didn’t take long for Oscar Payne to come up with larger sticks and drums for it that could feed up to a hundred.

Why so many rounds?

Because movies were getting longer and longer, and so were car chases. So if you were a gangster hanging off of a sideboard, you needed a lot of ammo to reduce the time spent on reloading.

As film drums got bigger, so did the ammo drums.

Until Hollywood figured out they killed less actors with blanks.

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

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

The topic this week was What is the first thing you see out your window?

And we’ve got stories by:

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

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

---

Jami

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

Drew had been gone all night.

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

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

Taralyn

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

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

Zackmann

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

Aikie

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tura

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

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

Thomas

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

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

Chris Munroe MUNSI MUNSI MUNSI

There’s screaming outside my apartment.

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

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

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

I know that. Everyone does.

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

I wish he’d stop.

He will soon.

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

For fear of what I’d see…

Tom

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

Danny

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

Steven the Nuclear Man

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

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

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

– they notice.

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

What a way to start the day.

Norval Joe

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

TJ

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

Planet Z

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

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

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

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

But it worries me… what if…

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

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

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

The topic this week was Halloween

And we’ve got stories by:

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

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

---

Taralyn

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

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

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

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

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

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

Munsi

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

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

I make it my business to notice everything.

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

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

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

I’ve still got it.

Tom

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

Abernathy

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

Sachy

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

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

“Uh…Dexter”

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

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

“Dexter? How old are you?”

“16…Hello?”

“I’m sorry Dexter, I have to go”

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

Danny

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

Zackmann

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

Norval Joe

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

TJ

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

Planet Z

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

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

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

Nothing.

HAVE YOU BEEN HELD UNDER LONG ENOUGH?

He was limp, no fight left at all.

HAVE YOU BEEN HELD UNDER LONG ENOUGH?

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

“He died saved,” I said to the cops.

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

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

The topic this week was Halloween

And we’ve got stories by:

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

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

---

Sevda

Halloween

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

Huangfu Ran

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

Carole

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

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

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

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

“Well, that depends….”

Later on…

Sachy

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

“Oh em gee, that’s me!”

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

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

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

“You’re so silly.”

Chris Munsi Monroe

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

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

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

“Raaaaaaaaain…”

Tom

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

Paladin

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

Jeff Hite

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

Miketh

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

Steven The Nuclear Man

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

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

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

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

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

Zackmann

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

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

Norval Joe

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

TJ

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

Planet Z

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

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

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

The topic this week was Zoo

And we’ve got stories by:

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

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

---

Thomas

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

##

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

Sevda

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

Peter Wood

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

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

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

Laina Ash

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

Munsi

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

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

Perhaps I should have apologized.

Instead I threw open the cage.

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

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

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

Zackmann

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

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

Tom

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

Abernathy

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

Paladin

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

TJ

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

###

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

Norval Joe

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

Sachy

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

Planet Z

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

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

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

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

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

Holograms.

Food’s was expensive, anyway.

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

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

The topic this week was Mustache

And we’ve got stories by:

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

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

---

Thomas

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

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

Jeff

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

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

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

Chris “Munsi” Munroe

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

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

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

June

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

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

“Are you supposed to be a whore?”

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

“Yes.”

At nine I thought that was what she wanted.

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

Tom

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

Abernathy

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

Boomer Bob

I went out my door this past morning

Feeling the chilled wind blow hard

I was surprised since there was no warning

I guess it was all in my birthday cards

I reached the age of 60 years last week

Now searching for what to believe

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

And have only myself to deceive

It is the time of the year we call fall

And I am ready to flutter to the ground

I wish I still had a summer’s youthful recall

But at least I leave this world more profound

Danny

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

Pete Wood

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

Sevda

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

Zackmann

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

Pau

Outside it’s cold; it rains

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chris the Nuclear Kid

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

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

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

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

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

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

So I just walked.

Steven the Nuclear Man

She left me.

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

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

It happens the same way every time.

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

Paladin

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

Norval Joe

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

Jeff Hite

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

Planet Z

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