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 Sixty-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 Pick Two

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

[polldaddy poll=5072361]

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

Oh those Crazy Rice Students are at it again. This time it’s Extreme Monopoly. The uptick is the fun money has been replaced with real money. And the downtick is it’s now a drinking game, land on a property do a shot of rum and Coca-Cola. Alpha Omega house is semi sponsoring the event along with Rudy’s Bail Bond. 200 yards of polypropylene has been duck tape to the entire bottom floor. The brothers from Chi Delta will have there 1920 ambulance parked in front in case we need a quick run to the RCM. Let the good times roll.

Zackmann

He walked into the school and heard someone inside the Vice principals office Scream “I’m Not
the One whose crazy. You’re the one whose crazy”
Oh Daddy thumbs up for bringing me the ink cartridge before schooltime. We need to print fliers
for our Monopoly tournament. This job has been a new beginning for me. I can’t wait until I can
introduce you to my supervisor whose currently practicing for his Suicidal Tendencies tribute
band.
I’ll take you go out for supper to celebrate and I’ll buy you Malabo Rum but I hope you can stop
at just two.

Daniel W.

“I can’t wait until schooltime!” she said.

“You realize you can jump ahead, right?” I generally skip schooltime – until I need knowledge, that is. Wish I could avoid worktime as easily…

“I do things in natural order. You know that!”

“Seriously, love, why don’t you choose to live in an era before time travel was invented? You’d fit in better there…”

Her fingers caressed my cheek. “Because I’d never see you again.”

How does she do that? Say the right words without several trial runs. I will never understand her, and I will always love her. I know, I’ve checked.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

“Sam!” my mom called. We had just moved into a three story house. I
went downstairs to help mom unpack. It would be a new beginning.
Later that day I went up to explore the third floor of the house.
There was a long hallway with two rooms on each side. At the end of
the hall there was a door. I went and opened it. There was a ladder
connected to the wall of the room. I looked up and saw a door, like
one you would see on the bottom of a tree house. I pushed. Locked.

I went back downstairs. “Hey mom, do you have the key to the attic?”
“Yes, why?” she replied.
“I wanted to see what’s up there.”
“Okay, one second.” she said. A little while later she handed me a key.
“Thanks mom.”
“You’re welcome.” she replied. I went back to the attic door.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” I unlocked the door and went in. it was
dark and cold in the attic but then I saw a game. “Monopoly?” I
reached out to take the box but I could not touch it. It was like a
ghost . “Well darn!”

Danny

I anxiously looked out the back window, Terri had just pulled into the parking lot. I opened the back door, Terri said “Hello, I have someone here who wants to meet you.” A little Maltese dog leaped toward me, held back only by his leash, so exited to see me. Fredrick ran into my house. When I picked up little Fredrick for the first time, I held him in my arms, he licked me on my chin and looked into my eyes, “Hello, Daddy.” What a fantastic way to start a new beginning, as Fredrick and I wander through life together.

TJ

His dad was against it. But from an early age, Martin knew he had the
right skills to become a spy. He was patient. He was observant. He could
sit comfortably nearly anywhere for hours. He was almost the exact
description someone would use to describe nondescript. At 16 he was just
old enough to look a little young to be in a bar, but his first real
piece of spy gear – a fake ID – covered that. His first undercover
mission for himself: Sit in a bar till closing, order a rum-and-Coke,
don’t get caught. Four hours later, mission accomplished.

Norval Joe

“Hosmer. Wendell,” The two boys heard their mother call from across the forest meadow. “It’s time to go.” The twins grabbed their gunny sacks, threw them over their shoulders and raced through the ankle high grass of the open field. “What’cha got there, boys?” Their father asked with a wary smile and a raised eyebrow. “Wild lawn gnomes,” Wendell said as the boys tipped the stunned creatures from the bags. They rolled around in confusion and searched for their little red hats. “Not again,” Their dad laughed. “Well, take two or three of the biggest and throw the rest back.”

Planet Z

Clarissa.

She counts her thumbs.

One. Two.

She has two thumbs.

Clarissa smiles.

Before the pills, she would sometimes count none.

Or one. Or three.

Or thousands.

The pills. The marvelous, magical pills.

The doctors made her better with those marvelous pills.

Green ones.
Pink ones.
Blue ones.
Black ones.

So many pills, so many colors.

She lines them up on the table by color, little rows of pills.

She smiles and twiddles her thumbs.

Her two thumbs.

One. Two.

She laughs.

That’s when she sees a pill… slowly… move.

The pill moved.
On its own.

Another pill moves.
And another.

Soon, all the pills are moving, weaving patterns of color on the table.

She counts her thumbs.

One. Two.

Screaming, she jabs them deep into her eyes.

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 Sixty-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 “Nasal Spray”

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

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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.

---

Ellie

She listened to her rapid, pounding heartbeat, heard her rasping breath and excessive, excruciating coughing echoing out into the air, saw her weakened hands shake and shudder. She felt awful.

It was her fault. It was always her fault. She’d insisted that she was ill, to get the sick leave she’d wanted.

Jerry never found about Rick, and every morning her husband left for work none the wiser about what went on after he left.

Of course, this meant she had to pretend to be sick, and actually use the medicine Jerry got her.

And now she’d overdosed. Fucking nasal spray.

Rah

Chalon and Nick were the best of friends.

Matching inhalers. Matching bifocals. Matching list of allergies.

Now they were sick together.

“We couldn’t! The germs!”

“Quiet Nick.”

Chalon is always the brave one, Nick thought.

“It’s our only hope of survival.”

Both stared at the bottle of Flonase.

“I had to forget mine, didn’t I?” Nick sighed.

“I’ll go first.” Chalon picked up the bottle and dosed.

“Now you.”

Nick started to refuse but saw the determination in Chalon’s eyes. With solemn gaze, he dosed.

They huddled together for the last moments until their mothers called them in for supper.

Zackmann

nasal spray
I never like to hear you wheezing
l never like to see you this way
I never want you on me sneezing
I only want to hear you breathing clearly, have some nasal spray
nasal spray
nasal spray
Oh baby I know I know it can be addictive but try some nasal spray
sometimes we all reach for the medicine cabinet for colds like yours today
I am not saying prayer cant help you
but God gave us nasal spray.
Achoo Achoo
Achoo Achoo
I only want to stop your wheezing, please have some nasal spray

AM Earley

June frantically, blindly, searched her purse. One robber had a gun to her head. The other trained a gun on her husband. No one watched her hands. She pulled out her nasal spray, aimed for the robber’s face and gave him two eyefulls in one blast. She easily subdued him, and called 911, as her husband knocked the other robber to the ground.
After the police arrived and the paperwork handled, June apologized for insisting on taking the shortcut.
“It didn’t ruin our anniversary, June. It reminded me why I love you, Mrs Badass.”

Steven the Nuclear Man

The alien sneezed onto my faceplate and Karen gagged. I shrugged in my spacesuit. “They think it’s weird we move air to communicate.” My suit was already translating the booger’s message for us. “With this planet’s wind, you couldn’t hear someone talking. The mucous transmission of pheromones – ”

“I have a doctorate in xenobiology; don’t mansplain it to me.”

I realized I’d blown any chance of a date – and then I saw the nude human. “Garner’s gone all nature hippie.” Garner approached one of the aliens.

Karen gasped. “Oh crap. He’s got allergies.”

Garner sneezed on the alien.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

I could not smell anything. As I walk through the door I felt something ooze from my nose. I turned to face the bathroom mirror and saw a glob of green. It oozed even faster getting bigger, then fell off. But, it was big as a basketball!

It started to wiggle, so I backed away. Then, as the thing took form, it looked like a humanoid. It started to move towards me, but I grabbed the nasal spray and sprayed the thing. After a while there was nothing but a puddle of green. Thank goodness there had been a drain.

Tom

Professor Amyl nitrite had unearthed an ancient scroll in a tomb in Southern China. After much analyzation by his colleagues the document was authenticated as the work of Sun Tzu author of the Art of War. What made this scroll so astonishing was that the descriptions within were absence from any existing version of the Art of War. The title of the scroll was the Art of Sneezing. It described how a warrior may use nasal spray to disarm an adversary. A rare spice from ShoeYang caused a strong irritation in the nose, but greater in the eyes. Sot bad.

Danny

Damn, these allergies. I’ve tried corticosteroid, topical decongestant, antihistamine, and natural saline nasal sprays, as well as a combined use of all sprays. Even with a combined use of all nasal sprays, it feels like I’m on a rollercoaster, the topical decongestant causes obscene swelling and damages the delicate mucous membranes in the nose, the corticosteroids reverse that swelling but dries out my nose, which the natural nasal sprays relieves. I’m certain the nasal spray companies have conspired together to make products that each create problems the other products solve. Then I finally realized, just get rid of the dog.

TJ

You’ve gotten them mixed up again.
I did not. Spencer Tracy was a detective.
No he wasn’t.
He wasn’t?
No, you’re thinking of Dick Tracy.
Dick Tracy was an actor.
No, Dick Tracy was a comic book detective from the 1930s. Spencer Tracy
was an actor.
Maybe Spencer Tracy played Dick Tracy?
No, that was Warren Beatty.
Oh, I see. Spencer Tracy was in “Gone With the Wind.”
No, he was in “Inherit the Wind.” Warren Beatty was in “Dick
Tracy.”
PLEASE! This is a family podcast.
*snort
Pardon me, but I’ve got to clean diet Coke off of …everything.

Norval Joe

Gilbert slammed his textbook shut with a curse and swiped at his watering eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“These allergies are going to make me fail my English final,” he sniffed wetly and searched for a Kleenex.
Throwing the soggy tissue into the waste basket he stumbled into the bathroom and found his roommate’s bottle of nasal spray.
The first day they shared the room, Gilbert promised to never touch his friends medication.
“Experimental,” Gilbert scoffed. “If it works for Jerry, it’ll work for me.”
Along with the antibodies to hold zombiism in recession came Jerry’s infectious germs.

Planet Z

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Hard times have hit the big top. The circus is coming to ruin.

The elephant’s allergies are acting up, and we can’t afford nasal spray.

The ringmaster’s pawned his rings, so he wears those black gloves all the time so his love, the bearded lady, don’t notice it.

Try the cotton candy… taste funny, don’t it? They’re using a cotton-poly blend now.

And the trapeze act out of Lebanon, The Flying Mohammeds, somehow they got on the No Fly List. Damn this 911 bullshit.

The caliope’s missin a few notes, and the goddamned clown car’s run out of gas.

Everybody get out and push.

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 Sixty-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 “Toast”

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

[polldaddy poll=5027417]

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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Rah

“Female. 45 years old. Third degree burns on upper right arm.”

The skin was split, glossy.

Sizzling bacon. Popping fat.

Charred skin and yellow adipose tissue.

Burnt buttered toast.

Paul vomited.

Two years for an associate’s degree in nursing, working small jobs in off hours to pay the bills; his first assignment was burn ward.

“Another smoke break Paul?” the doctor asked. He chuckled and walked away.

Paul grunted and continued to watch traffic on the overpass. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips.

“Beats part-time at the Waffle House”, his roommate had commented this morning.

Yeah right, Paul thought.

Tom

Your toast Timmy.

I can explain Frankie.

Don’t think so, Big Louie

Isn’t pleased and when Louie

Is displeased dis isn’t good.

“Hows bout I just disappear.”

“Just what we zz had in mind”

Two pop Timmy hits the floor

Like Lewis in the 5th round.

Frankie folds Timmy’s arms

Cross this chest and places a lily in his hand.

Don’t he look peaceful mused Frankie

All Easter Sunday.

Two pop echo off the garage roof

Frankie tumbles into 47 Packard trunk

Little Rude tows a red blow on to Frankie’s chest.

Merry Chirstmas Frances.

From the shadows comes two pops.

AM Earley

“A toast to the newlywed couple.”

“A toast to our hockey team going to the playoffs.”

“No toast to our basketball team who lost the playoffs.”

“A moment of silence for all the victims of the tornados.”

The foursome didn’t say anything, but the room wasn’t silent. Twenty televisions still blasted away in the sports bar.

Ten minutes into their meal, all the televisions went out. Groans and yells persisted into the bar until the owner emerged from the back. “I can’t get anything on the computer to work. It’s all toast.”

“A toast to technology. It’s great, only when it works.”

Danny

Jack sat in his favorite chair in front of the fire, toasting his feet on a cold snowy evening at his remote cabin in the northwestern mountains. Satisfied with the results of his previous hunts, the meat was preserved and safely stored in his outdoor freezer. With supply cabinets full, and wild nuts picked earlier toasting by the fire, Jack was ready to settle in for the long winter ahead. With the wind howling outside, Jack knew that anyone caught in this storm would quickly be toast. He prayed for their safe passage, then fell asleep as the night closed in.

Zackmann

We need to fight the bad press Atkins gave the baked goods industry. My plan is to start
something called ToastCon. We will get people to come together and celebrate bread. When
people are in lines waiting to register we will bring them a breakfast of Toast with choice of
butter, honey, jam, or jelly. We will have women dressed as bread slices. Pan Panels about
baking, building your own toaster, bread in popular culture, and impact of bread on society.
Music by Throwing Toasters. The bread company CEO then interrupted saying “Wheat a minute
sir, will this really work?”

TJ Aman

When I see Dave and Rebecca here today I can’t help but cast my mind
back to where these crazy kids were just one year ago. Rebecca was just
a shy, wide-eyed kid at the checkout counter open to new life and new
possibilities. Who could’ve known that fateful day, she could be
ringing up the groceries of the man she would be spending the rest of
her life with? Certainly not Dave, who as it happens was sleeping with
me at the time, so welcome to marital bliss, Becky, and make sure your
shots are up to date. L’chaim.

Norval Joe

“Hey buddy,” Carl shouted; loud enough to be heard over the noisy crowd. “Can I get another stack of toast over here?”
“Hold your horses, pal,” the lead chef growled back, “we got a lot of people calling for the same thing. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”
It was true. Several cooks rushed about and handed out toast as quick as they could pull it from the dozen toasters lined up on the work bench.
“Whatever,” Carl said. “I only have half this roof shingled. If it rains before I get done, your the ones who’ll be sorry.”

Planet Z

Curiosity killed the cat, and nearly everybody else with it.

You see, I grew up hearing that the buttered side of the toast always lands face down.

And cats always land on their feet.

So, I taped some buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it.

What a fool I was.

The barrier between our world and dreams came down, torn apart by the quantum storms. Shadows reached out from the darkness, the walls

Millions… billions of lives lost because I just had to mess around with elemental forces.

Not that there’s much left, but I will never play with my food ever again.

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):

[polldaddy poll=4997173]

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

---

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):

[polldaddy poll=4963580]

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

---

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):

[polldaddy poll=4930098]

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

---

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):

[polldaddy poll=4879966]

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

---

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):

[polldaddy poll=4838668]

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

---

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

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

[polldaddy poll=4795230]

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

---

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):

[polldaddy poll=4750451]

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

---

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.