Category: Weekly Challenge

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Ninewhere 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 Oh, the horror!.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #139?
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.novalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Mike P. from http://mjpaxton.com/
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogpspot.com/
	Cenedra from http://censtwocents.blogspot.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Brad Z. from http://mutecow.net/
	Ashley
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Guy from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Caleb

Mrs. Claus had had just about enough of Santa’s priceless collection of Victorian erotica. She didn’t mind him spicing things up a bit now and then; after over 200 years of marriage who wouldn’t? His not having time for her from October through most of January left her ready to submit to almost any perversion. Sure, she could dabble with the occasional elf or two but it wasn’t the same as having that big belly slapping her ass like a bowl full of jelly. So when she caught him ‘reading’ the story of O she shredded it. “O? The horror!”

Norval Joe

Lori checked her lipstick in the mirror of the hotel bathroom. Her 25th reunion was going to be a hit.
She wasn’t obese in high school, but she was chubby enough to make her color guard uniform stretch past the point of flattering. Oh, the horrors she faced in high school.
A Phd in partical physics, a strict diet and lots of exercise had transformed her into a svelt, but extremely intelligent, seductress.
She walked into the banquet room to the astonished smiles of her former classmates. Her form-fitting silk dress was tucked neatly into the back of her panyhose.

Mike P.

I met Mr. Roosevelt in Cuba. He took me to New York and the White House as friend and advisor, and then to Africa as a hunting companion.
It was in Mombasa that we heard the natives speaking of “zombeys.” A shaman told us of an undiscovered island, far to the east, that was home to these creatures. Maps were sketched out, and we sighted the place within five days.
Three days later, we returned from a fruitless excursion to find a lifeless crowd shambling about the camp.
“Oh,” I said.
Mr. Roosevelt nodded, loading a shotgun. “There’s the horror.”

Justin

It all started when Elmo wound up in the hospital.
“I was in an alley on my way to talk to Oscar in his new can when I was attacked by something round!”
Next, the Cookie Monster was mugged outside his home.
“It stole my cookies!”
The crime rate was on the rise.
“Three mugging, ah ah ah. Four muggings, ah ah ah.”
Police detectives soon found that these crimes happened on days brought by the letter O. Kermit had this comment:
“The horror of it all was that “O” had always been so polite. We never would have suspected.”

Jeff

“Ice Fishing? You brought me ice fishing?”
“Yes, well you said you wanted to get away from it all.”
“Yeah, but I meant I wanted a vacation.”
“But dear, this is a vacation. We’re out in the wilderness, enjoying all that mother nature had to offer.”
“If this is all she has to offer, I want my money back.”
“Dear, that is the wonder of this vacation it was nearly free, and in a bad economy, it is perfect.”
“Great I am stuck out here, with Charles Swab. Why can’t you do anything right for a change?”
“Oh the horror.”

Cenedra

I watched in horror as he handled the flesh of a dead animal as though it was an everyday occurrence. My eyes fixated on the bright red fluid dripping onto the table.
My mind wanted to scream, but there were no words. My eyes followed yet another red drop as it fell, almost in slow motion, and splattered below him. Plop.
The disgust must have shown on my face because he paused and scowled at me “What’s the matter with you?”
“I can’t believe you put ketchup on your hot dog.” I said and licked mustard off my bottom lip.

Anima

What is wrong with people?
Can’t they take a hint? There are No Trespassing signs… A girl scout hung in effigy….
Satyr lawn ornaments dancing around a pentagram torched in the grass…
What’s it take to be left in peace?
Oh the horror, they are traipsing up my drive, thru the allée made of impaled real estate agents and vacuum cleaner salesmen. They’ve passed my menacing hellhound…
Who are they? A pox on these doorknockers I say!
Yes…?
Ma’mm, we’ve come to nominate your gingerbread house to the historical society…
Oh… Well then, my dearies, won’t you please come in?

Brad Z

Slowly, mother nature is spreading terror across the nation. State by state, the weather reporters track it’s progress. Unable to stop it they speak of the horrors of the ice fog that is coming. City by city it spreads closer. The local weather reporters warn of the dangers to follow in the morning before I click the TV off and fall asleep. In the morning, the closings scroll across the bottom of the screen. Wiping sleep from my eyes I look to see if today will be a snow day. Oh, the horror, everyone gets to stay home but me!

Ashley

Charles’ life was great. He had a dream job, a marriage of twelve years to a content wife and four amazing children.
There was even time for other women.
Charles whistled as he added more lewdness to an already quite lewd email and hit send. An automated reply quickly popped up.
He abruptly noticed the name of the reply and froze. It was his wife’s work account. Somehow, he’d sent the email to the wrong address.
As Charles sat in shock at his computer, a favorite phrase of his mother’s came to him, “Son, if you play you pay.”

Tom

“Spiritus Mundi” screamed Klatu.
Gort shrugs his shoulders.
“It is the gyre of this stony sleep we must dispel” railed Klatu.
“The falcon can not hear the falconer.”
Lacking all conviction Gort move its slow thighs.
“Wait surely some revelation is at hand!”
“The worst are full of passionate intensity.”
About Klatu the tiny metal bugs chewed.
“Things fall apart” stated the robot
a gaze blank and pitiless as the sun.
“Klatu, the center cannot hold.”
He grabbed Gort whispering
“Gort Klaatu barada nikto”
The beast knew
its hour come round at last,
Slouched towards Bethlehem
to settle a score

Guy David

It was laundry day. Harry memorized the instructions ahead of time. He just knew he would be able to operate the washing machine with ease this time. Margaret watched him like a vulture. He shivered. One mistake and he is toast. He put the clothes in the machine, turned the knobs, pushed the button and watched as they started spinning. There was nothing to do but wait now.
Later, when the cycle was finished, he took out the clothes under Margaret’s watching eyes, intending to hang them on the laundry line but… Oh, the horror! – they all turned out green.

Planet Z

O, the horror.
The studio is unhappy with my latest picture, so they want me to appear in a fundraiser for childrens’ diseases.
I asked which disease was it for – I’m a great fan of any disease or form of death, really.
Can we raise money to give away guillotines for tots? Or how about high-powered explosive candies?
Guns. Kids love guns. And they’re very dangerous when put in the hands of a child.
The studio was mortified. They’re sending some singer in my place – Michael Jackson or something.
They’ll have a great time with him, I’m sure.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Eight where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was A Flashing Red Light.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #138?
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Mike P.
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
	Brad Z from http://mutecow.net
	Byz from http://eatonbennett.blogspot.com/
	Ashley
	Almo
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.novalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Anima

There. Mari put a last wrap of electrical tape on the splice and flipped on the main breaker.
Jeff was the perfect prince on their first date, bringing her flowers and complimenting her haircut. Their second date was also good, but it went downhill after that. First it was going Dutch to the basketball game; now, Jeff was your typical boy leech.
Last week, he said he wanted to date others.
What a relief! thought Mari.
Could she make sure no one else would be fooled by Jeff’s charms?
The flashing red light on his porch should be warning enough…

Tom

The flashing red lights reflected off the splitter windshield. He hit the speed dial to Tom. The persistent answered machine pulsed out on income call screened till later. Tom’s attention was drawn to the flash red light on the coffeemaker. “Where the Hell was Jim?” he opening the door to catch a glimpse of red trail lights. Rain pounded down on the porch, but Gloria’s jet rose above the storm. A strobing red light barely visible to both Jim and Tom trail off into the north. Her thoughts were of them, but the flash red oxygen light drove them off.

Mike P

Beep. Beep. Beep.
Andy sat in the dark, eyes fixed on the answering machine by the door. The flashing red light ticked away, like a hospital monitor counting down to the death of his heart.
One new message. One new message. One new message.
Andy knew what it would say. Harriet had also sent an email, a registered letter, and a singing telegram. Every time the message was the same.
“Got the job, moving to Portland. It was fun while it lasted.”
As long as he didn’t listen to the message, Andy could pretend it hadn’t happened.
Beep. Beep. Beep.

Guy David

My son rejoiced in his new computer screen. That was exactly what he wanted for his 12th birthday. Maple Story never looked better on his screen. He continued with his game play, face intent with concentration, commenting on his intricate game strategies from time to time. I listened, savoring his young wisdom. Much later, when I finally convinced him to shut down his computer and go to sleep, I noticed the power button was flashing a small red light, and I knew my son would surf the virtual worlds of tomorrow, where he would spend the rest of his life.

Caleb

There’s a flashing red light
That blinks through the night
Illuminating my whole house
Is it a neon sign?
Have I lost my mind
An overturned laser jet mouse?
Maybe it’s a cyborg
A wants me to die borg
Assassinated by some robotic louse
Maybe it’s a fairy
All crinkly and hairy
And wearing a gossamer blouse
There’s a flashing red light
That blinks through the night
Illuminating my whole head
Maybe it’s the end
I’ve gone round the bend
It’s a light to tell me that I’m dead
Hey Shakespeare! Wake up! You passed out on your blackberry again!

Brad Z

As I neared the village destruction upon the lands increased. The villagers had contacted me to save them but it appears that I arrived to late. Ruins filled what was once a peaceful community. In the distance, behind the village, stood the black mountain, home of the black sorcerer and his evil hordes. A mighty howl came from the pair of hellhounds galloping at my side followed by the roar of the giant tiger that ran with them. Battle would begin soon.
The flashing red lights filled my vision as I rolled over.
“Crap, the power went off last night.”

Byz

Christmas was too close! Loneliness, the only prospect on the horizon,
made the confines of his room all the more unbearable.
How long had it been since he’d slept without dreaming, getting lost in
nightmares as old as himself?
His companion, a flashing red light outside his bedroom
window, blinked solidly through the night. Never deserting him for
someone more handsome or with more money. Not like Charlene had.
He wondered how she was. Maybe she was still living and the other guy
hadn’t got sick of her and bumped her off. Maybe she’d gotten lucky even
if he hadn’t.

Ashley

The Perp said, “I’m innocent.”
“Sure,” replied Officer Jenkins. “You flashed ladies wearing only a red blinking light over your crotch yelling eat me I’m wholesome?”
“Not flashed, blinked. I wore a light.”
“Let’s just say the arrest was in the spirit of the law, okay.”
Later at the cell, Jenkins announced, “be sure to show them why you’re here.” Several of the occupants turned, obviously interested.
“You really aren’t going to leave me here, are you?” asked the Perp.
“Absolutely not,” said Jenkins closing the door and heading towards the stairs, “and to all a good night.”

Almo

The ’72 Impala left a plume of dust as it came over the hill toward home. It was an incredible panorama. If you weren’t from there. If you didn’t grow up wishing you could see Wal-Mart instead of sagebrush.
The town was one intersection. Big enough for a post office, a barking dog, a closed restaurant and his house.
He enjoyed telling people where he was from.
“Nowhere,” he’d say. “Nowhere, Colorado.”
That was the best part.
He stopped at the intersection. There was a traffic signal.
“A flashing red light?” he thought. “Progress.”
He couldn’t see another car.

Justin

The console lit up; a blinking red light. God knew it was coming, it was inevitable. While free will was better, it was messy. The tree stood in the middle of Eden, Adam and Eve forbidden to eat of it. They did, though. It was time to go down and see them. Things were about to change forever. At least He had known it was coming. His other idea was to put a red button that would blow up the planet. Unlike the forbidden fruit, a red button would have been pressed far sooner with no tempter required at all.

Jeff Hite

“Hey, what is that?”
“What’s what?”
“That flashy thing over there?”
“You you mean the flashing red light?”
“Yeah that’s the one.”
“Oh that’s usually really bad?”
“Bad? What do you mean bad?”
“Yeah it usually means the engine is about to flame out and we are going to start falling like a stone.”
“Oh yeah? So what does it mean now?”
“Hmm let me see. Oh yeah, that the engine is about to flame out and that we are going to start falling like a stone.”
“Oh ok.”
“Engine flame out… loss of forward momentum…prepare for crash landing.”
“Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Norval Joe

Higgs Boson aimed his galactic cruiser at the cosmic microwave background.
His new blink-drive harnessed the power of nuclear fusion to slip him through the fabric of the space-time continuum.
The reactor thrummed with energy and the ship disappeared. Like a rock skipped across a pond it winked in and out of existence along the programmed trajectory.
Eventually, the energy dissipated enough for the ship to wink in and coast at sub light speed, while the engine primed for its next ignition.
As he began the ignition sequence, a flashing red light warned, his mission was coming to an end.

Planet Z

I am the Clerk of the Court, as my father was and his fathers before him.
I tend the Justice Machine, the final thread holding civilization together, surviving the Apocalypse left to us from our disagreeable ancestors.
The defendant, the witnesses, and the sheriff give their testimony before the altar.
I then push the button, and we watch the light.
Will it turn green or remain red?
I know the answer. It will be red.
It is always red. It will always be red.
There is no Justice in the world.
There never has been. And there never will be.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Seven where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Blow Pops and Water
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #137?
	Tom
	Norval Joe
	Justin from http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pr_Zu6vxWEo
	Anima Zabaleta from http://http.zabbadabba.com/
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/
	Byz
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com
	Ashley
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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TOM

They drained the water out of the pool, then pulled Bruce onto the deck. In spite of being very dead and very wet Bruce had a exceedingly large smile on his face due to a number of blow pops shoveled into his month. Lt. Roveochvski thumbed through his copy of The Guinness Book of World Record under lollipops filled with bubble gum. “It says 14 by Lionel Mountbatten of Sheffield.” The forensic guy pulled out 16 pops. “Seems he literally gummed himself to death, should have stuck to cigarettes probably lived longer.” Roveochvski popped a lifesaver and tagged the toe.

NORVAL JOE

The Brain sat beside the hospital bed of his life long companion, Pinky.
He stroked the silky fur between Pinky’s large floppy ears to calm his thrashing in his pain killer induced delirium.
Developmentally delayed from birth, Pinky developed juvenal diabetes, juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, Charcot-Marie-Tooth syndrome, hemophilia and teenage onset bi-polar depression.
The final insult came with HIV tainted blood from a transfusion.
Pinky opened his watery eyes and gazed sightlessly at his friend.
“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” “I think so Brain, but I forgot the blow pops and water.”
Desolate, Brain lowered his head and cried.

JUSTIN

The humpback whale lay on the Oregon Coast, fins flopping. An accident by someone watching whale and not the road caused a truckload of blow pops spilled all over. Someone had an idea. Soon spectators chewed on the blow pops and got the gum ready. When there was a huge glob of gum, they carefully put it in one of the whale’s blowholes. Then they hooked a mix of oxygen and helium to the other blowhole. The bubble formed from the blowhole and the whale floated and was guided by a kite flying expert back to sea. Pop! Splash! Freedom.

ANIMA

Kellie loves to knit. Really makes the needles fly.
First it was scarves for friends,
then more difficult techniques, like felting and spinning her own yarns.
Once she went experimental, I don’t know of anything she didn’t try to knit.
Dad got slippers knit from the skins of organic banana peels;
Jenna, a blanket made of bank statements,
I received a barbed wire hobo bag.
But not every project was successful…
Kellie wore a SWEET cotton candy cardigan, with blow pops for buttons, to the church picnic.
Needless to say, she was a big hit at the water balloon toss.

EVA MOON

The popping bubble sounds were coming in a steady, unbroken stream at last.
The rush of pleasure at his accomplishment almost overshadowed the pounding headache.
Zoran was a master clarinetist, but one skill eluded him: circular breathing. Without it he couldn’t play continuously. Until now.
The old methods are often the best: Want to learn circular breathing? Get a glass of water and a straw. Have your teacher stand behind you with a stick. Blow bubbles in the water. When the bubbles stop, you get whacked with the stick.
Trust me, in no time at all the bubbles don’t stop.

BYZ

Ten years old and full of mischief, Lara, wandered along the sidewalk with her lollipop jammed into her mouth. A Blow Pop to be exact. Temptation had greedily lured her into stealing money for the favored sweet. Her conscience pricking her just enough to take the edge off her blissful state.
Rounding the corner, her young body ran smack into a huge man. Looking up she saw a policeman.
Her mouth opening on a shriek saw the coveted Blow Pop fall into a puddle of muddy looking water.
Instantly her mom’s words, “crime doesn’t pay”, ran guiltily through her mind.

GUY DAVID

The packet of Cherry Flavored Charms Blow Pops was half buried in the water. Little Linda bent over and tried to pick it up. It was stuck. The kid pulled at it. The packet seemed to pull back at her. She pulled harder. The packet also pulled harder until it knocked Linda off her feet and started dragging her into the water. Linda just wouldn’t let go. She really wanted those colorful yummy looking lollipops. Eventually, she was pulled right into the water where a shark with a fishing rod put her in a basket and walked away with her.

ASHLEY

The kid took two licks of the tootsie roll blow pop and accidentally dropped it.
“How many licks to get to the middle?” he exclaimed.
An owl silently swooped down on the fallen blow pop and bit it in half.
Unfortunately for the owl, he just crashed a pool party complete with swimmin pool, slip-n-slide and a sundry of water balloons.
Some of the other kids started pelting the owl with water balloons. The owl turned his head completely around startling the kids, then silently flew back into the woods, blow pop in tow.
“So it takes three licks, “sighed the kid.

CALEB

“Robot, is Stacy home yet?”
“In the Garden, Sir”
“Did you get the stuff for the play date tomorrow?”
“stuff, Sir?”
“The shopping list I left on the fridge for you!”
“You did not specify…”
“It doesn’t matter what size water, half liter, 20 Ounces, whatever”
“You did not specify…”
“What kind of lollipop? They’re kids it doesn’t matter. Cherry, Strawberry, Schnozzberry for all they care!”
“You did not specify it was a Shopping List, Sir”
“What the hell else…?”
Just then Stacy ran in saying she’d seen her dad lying dead in the pool with no pants on, smiling

PLANET Z

Just a kid, a stupid kid, a drug runner who didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell to get out of the ghetto, he tagged the bricks with shapes and colors because he didn’t know how to read, didn’t know how to write, didn’t know how to think, didn’t have a future, ran to the dealer and said “Tucker want two kilo blow, Pops.” and the dealer smacked him hard, hard enough to knock out a rotten tooth and make his eyes water “Don’t you call me Pops, I ain’t your poppa, I just fucked your momma, boy.”

WARNING: After the rookies, I get off on a rather perturbed rant over something Steven the Nuclear Man said on his Ideatrash blog in reference to a simple question I asked on Twitter.
If you don’t want to deal with the politics, religion, he-said-she-said or risk having your head cut off for thinking for yourself, please feel free to skip that section.
The rant begins at 12 minutes. Jeffrey’s tale begins at 16 minutes and 28 seconds.

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Six where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Thankful
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #136?
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Justin from http://water.cc/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Byz from http://eatonbennett.blogspot.com/
	Hattie
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Ashley
	Guy from http://guydavid.com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Anima

I reckon I’s got a moment to ruminate…
Lemme see: January, I got T-boned: but Insurance bought me a new used Chevrolet. It don’t burn half the oil the Dodge did!
That there windstorm peeled off the trailer roof and Jimmy put in a fancy skylight. So what if it leaks a little;
Summer drought killed off the grass, so the yard never needs mowing;
And today, a mechanical on this here aeroplane gives me 90 minutes of peace from my whiney sister-in-law.
Indeed, Sugar, I’s thankful for the tarnished linings of all them dark, brooding clouds.

Justin

Every day Abana carries the ten gallon water jug to the well, stands in line, fills the jug when it is her turn, then carries it home. She has to only walk one mile each way. She used to have to walk four miles there and back again. Abana is eleven. She had a brother. He was only four when he died from drinking dirty water. That was before a well was built in their own town, before they could get clean water every day. People who cared donated money to build the well. Abana is thankful for clean water.

Tom

I’ve had a second job for years. I drive around behind Brink’s Armored cars and wait for money to fall out. Been doing it for 40 years, have this friend who owns a used car lot, use a different car each day. Not that hard to do, just a few hour each workday. Came close once or twice over the years. A door swung open, a guy drove off and left a bag behind, but to date no money has hit the road yet. I’m still hopeful. And thankful that Americans is a land where trucks filled with money drive around.

Byz

The door slammed shut in Lola’s face. Could she cope with another pubescent teenager?
Memories of past rebellions sent her pulse rate soaring. A simple request to hang out the washing had caused the girl to turn on her. Was obedience too much to expect?
Five kids had already traveled this route, happily causing chaos. Thankfully, each one had survived puberty’s rite of passage and eventually grown up.
All too familiar tears stung the back of her eyes and throat, reminding just how tough it could get. She would have to be the strong one, for her daughter and herself.

Hattie

Sally pulled the yellow cashmere scarf off her neck and tossed it on the floor in the front hall. She pulled off her wool pea coat and let it fall into a heap. Right foot then left foot she kicked off her pointy toed heels. In stockinged feet, Sally shuffled into the kitchen and poured herself a celebratory glass of chardonnay. The telephone rang as she enjoyed the last drop. Caller ID revealed it was him. She let it ring. The papers were signed today. She didn’t have to answer. What a feeling! Finally free!

Jeffrey

We watched for a very long time until we realized what was happening. The Humans were gathering for their yearly sustenance. We had watched them gather for much smaller in take of sustenance before, but this seems to be their main feeding. It will be interesting to see how they will in take so much of what they call food. We have dissected several of them and know that their internal organs could never process so much at one time. We will move in closer, and see what we can hear. I’m thankful that there will be no dissection tonight.

Norval Joe

A tree is cut down.
Shining with tinsel and lights
It lives forever.
Anticipation.
There will be no sleep tonight.
Santa comes and goes.
Thoughtfully chosen,
Paper, silver, red and gold
gifts under the tree.
A stupid toy mouse.
Nardo knocks over the tree.
They should learn from this.
The kids are all here.
Thankful to be together
Christmas day begins.
Babies first Christmas.
She plays with bows and paper
The toys are ignored.
Traditional game,
Men and boys in the back yard
The boys win again.
Worn out already,
The baby sleeps in his arms,
Grandad takes a nap.

Mary

“What’s an eight letter word for ‘expressive of gratitude’?”
“Are you still messing with that crossword? Don’t you realize how much we need to get done?”
“Fourth letter is ‘N’.”
“We’ve got to get this whole house clean. Why’d we buy such a big house?”
“Ends in ‘L’.”
“I hope I bought enough food. I can’t believe the entire family is coming to dinner.”
“It might start with ‘T’.”
“At least nobody’s in the hospital this year.”
“That’s it! Thanks honey!”
“What?”
“The word is T-H-A-N-K-F-U-L, and you just made me realize how much I have to be thankful for.”

Ashley

She froze, focused on the dark form standing before her, steadied her breathing and prepared to fire.
Before she could squeeze the trigger, Jacome stepped from the shadow of a tree and raised his hand, weapon pointed to the ground.
Rica said, “You had better be thankful you’re not a regular. Your ass was about to be toast.”
Replied Jacome,” I could say the same.”
On a precipice far above, a regular sniper eased off the safety and caressed the trigger once, then again.
After awhile, the jungle slowly began to come back to life, for the short term anyway.

Guy

The ceremony of “The Thankful” was about to begin. “We have so much to be thankful for” said Kurt, their leader. Simon brought the wine. Berta brought the cheese and the crackers. They all span around in the circle and chanted, then Emily threw red flowers into the air. Everyone cheered. “It’s like a wedding” laughed Amanda in joy, “it’s the ultimate binding.” Someone opened the campaign and they all toasted, then it was time. “Bring her” cried out Kurt, holding the sacrificial knife. There was a murmur, then a stunned silence as they realized the forgot the sacrificial virgin.

Planet Z

Of all the Care Bears, Thankful Bear was the most quiet.
When someone did something for him, a simple heartfelt “Thank you” sufficed.
Any more than that would be seen as obnoxious or disingenuous, he thought.
Sure, he was thankful for every day he lived, every meal he ate, and every night he slept somewhere warm and safe.
He didn’t need to shout it out every time he felt it like all the other babbling Care Bears.
His attitude on gratitude didn’t make for good film, so he was cut after the first season.
For that, he was thankful, too.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Four where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Hey These Aren’t My Pants!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #135?
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/
	Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com
	Sougent from http://sladventures.sougent.com/
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogpspot.com/
	Norval Joe
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Ashley
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Eva Moon

“Hey these aren’t my pants!”
If you had asked me what my feelings might be, were I in a situation to utter those words, I would never have guessed “delighted.”
But that turned out to be exactly the case. After weeks of stringent dieting, self-denial and exhausting exercise, I was ready to meet my old college boyfriend. But when I went to put on the pencil-thin pants I’d bought just for the occasion, I couldn’t get them over my hips, much less, zipped.
I stood with tears in my eyes until I noticed I’d grabbed my son’s pants by mistake.

Anima

Oi!, these ain’t me trousers!
They’re mine.
You realize, it’s been six weeks since we returned from Scotland.
Think you can start talking normal again?
Lassie, I’m a MacShillysheigh~ a verra proud Highland clan, not to be
trifled with. ‘Ose pants are they?
Whatever.
When I married you, you were Jack Shay. Just because you found some
distant fourth cousins, all of the sudden you’re Braveheart.
Must you wear that ugly orange and purple plaid skirt and fur purse?
IT’S A KILT, SASSENACH!, AND SPORRAN!
Fine, kilt… Just so long as we agree who wears the pants in this family.

Sougent

It was hot in the laundry room, sweat dripped down the face of James
Robert as he labored over the mounds of laundry.
Oh, the indignities he suffered for the cause, he thought, as he surreptitiously made the exchange and left unnoticed.
The next day a man wakes up, puts on his pants but notices something is terribly wrong.
“Hey, these aren’t my pants!”
A confused President Lincoln wanders down the hallway mumbling.
For you see, James Robert, Jim Bob to his friends, was a special agent from the Confederate Psychological Warfare Department.
And that’s….. the rest of the story.

Justin

Sargent Slaughter slammed the magazine into his automatic rifle.
“Corporal Simon, bring my red vest!”
“Yes, Sir!”
The Corporal got the vest then gave it to the Sargent.
“Why do you wear a red vest into battle, sir?”
“So if I get shot, the red will hide the blood, and the soldiers wont lose
morale.”
The Sargent slung the rifle over his shoulder then walked out of the bunker.
The Corporal pointed.
“Private, bring me those pants!”
“Yes, Sir.”
The private brought them over.
“Here you go Corporal Simon, Sir.”
“Hey, these aren’t my pants, I need the brown ones!”

Jeffrey

This morning there was a war between myself and my body. You see my
body didn’t want to get out of bed, I was relentless. In the end I
won the war. However, my body did win some key battles and the loss
inflicted on both sides were severe. There were the normal ones of
course: the cold toes and eyes that will not open, legs that don’t
want to move and fumbling fingers. Then there were the usual ones,
the headache and backaches are new, the razor nicked face. But I did
win, hey wait these aren’t my pants.

Norval Joe

API, New York City
A newly found archive of recordings was found at the former recording site of
Folkway Records. An untitled excerp was found that is beleived to have been recorded
by folk singing legend, Bob Dillon. All that remained of what may have been a
complete, but unreleased song, is:
We laughed a lot, and then we cried,
our love was strong, but then it died,
So, she turned to me like she was in a trance,
and I said to her, “Hey, these aren’t my pants.”
It makes you wonder, what did we really miss out on?

Mary Elizabeth

A week had passed since Krista learned of her husband’s affair, and she
still hadn’t figured out how to confront him. She was hurt and angry, but
wasn’t sure she wanted her marriage to end.
Then out of the blue, a package arrived in the mail. The hotel where Scott
stayed on his last business trip was returning some items he had left
behind. Krista opened the small box and choked back a sob.
“How long has it been going on?” she demanded. Scott didn’t seem to
understand.
A scrap of lace landed in his lap. “These aren’t my panties.”

Ashley

Jeremy stumbled across the road and into a large camellia bush. Once
there, he began to dress in a rush.
Even though he was to marry Maragaret in two weeks, certain decorum was
expected in this small southern town. Her father’s big gun also helped.
Jeremy snatched his pants about half-way up before they stuck. “Hey,
these aren’t my pants,” he exclaimed and snatched them back off. Just
inside the liner was a clearly printed name, Jack Simpson, Margaret’s
first love.
Wondering about his future, Jeremy gazed up at Margaret’s window as a
cold breeze silently began to waft by.

Guy

Dwardlwuff The Troll looked around him in disgust. Those elves sure left their mess around. Ever since the mags had them sign those peace treaties, the trolls had to treat those darn elves nicely and even (oh – the horror), with respect. Dwardlwuff sure missed that amazingly delicious Elves Soup, and those Elves Snacks, oh… those Elves Snacks. Still, those elven maidens where nice, soft and friendly and inter-species copulation was looked at by the mags with enthusiastic approval. The troll started putting back his pants, then shrieked in pain, shock and horror. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” he exclaimed.

Tom

I heard of this competition in Texas, think it was called the Infidelity Olympics or whatever. The contest I remember was the Jump out of bed, pull on your pants, dive out the window. So I headed down to Amarillo and sign up in the novice category. I was doing pretty well until I discover the pants I grabbed had the zipper on the side. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” I yelled just as the judge kicked open the door with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. Out the window I went in my Gloria Vanderbilt’s. Swan to the salt.

Planet Z

It is a tradition to announce promotions by running a soldier’s pants up the flagpole and making them climb the pole to get them back down.
I passed the sergeant’s exam with flying colors and I knew I was getting three bars soon. So when I was shaken awake at 5AM and told GO GET YOUR PANTS I jumped out of bed and ran for the flagpole.
As I climbed, I heard laughter instead of applauds as I reached… the skirt?
My promotion was coming tomorrow. The Commanding Officer’s secretary was getting hers today.
I slid down, angry as hell.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Four where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was That One.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #134?
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com
	Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Ashley
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/blog/
	Almo
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Justin

Sad Betty crawled down the shelf. She walked across the aisle and stole a knife from a commando. He never paid any attention to her. She slunk back to her spot on the shelf. Beside her was Smiling Sarah. She giggled as the commando waved to her. When no one was looking, Betty pulled Sarah into the shadows.
“OK honey, you wanted a Sarah doll?”
“No mommy, I want that one!”
She pointed to a doll with a face that was slightly crooked. The doll was smiling. Behind, where no one could see, a doll with no face silently cried.

Norval Joe

The retirement home.
The old people sat in the dark and musty recreation room at the retirement home; the only modern thing in there was a wide-screen TV.
“Lets watch ‘I love Lucy’.”
“D’ya think they’ll give us mashed potatoes today?”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear”
“Turn the channel”
“No, I wanna watch this Chirapa thing.”
“It’s been canceled, turn on ‘I love Lucy'”
“Who’s got the remote, go back.”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear.”
“Go back to that Chirapa one.”
“What one?”
“Not that one, turn on ‘I love Lucy’.”
“The Lucy show was canceled, too.”
“I hope they give us mashed potatoes today!”.

Guy David

Chaketo Chirapa wandered amongst the corpses. None survived. That one was contemplative, this one hilarious, that other one his closest friend. He remembered the words of his mother:
“Eat your cereal, little Chaketo. You have a whole world to conquer”
He knew what he had to do. He turned on his communicator. He knew it would take many years for the massage to reach The Chirapa planet, but he could wait. He turned to leave, then hesitated. He turned dials, then he left. Behind him, the song of The Chirapa played one last time, before the underground tunnels sealed forever.

Tom

He kicked the tires, checked the cigarette lighter, adjusted the rearview mirror. The sale staff were unimpressed, that was until the Black Carbon American Express hit the counter, then two guys from the four floor race down to the showroom. “I’ll take that one.” Said the man glancing at the little red corvette. The model was from the year he was born. He was going to drive that car as fast and far as he could. It had always been time = money, now it was money = time. Hodgkin’s lymphoma = fast times fast cars and fast women.

Almo

George drove his truck toward Tom’s Turkey Farm and he thought about how different Thanksgiving was now that Congress had taken the restraints off the food industry. Hormones got the OK. Radiation, no problem.
George parked in the delivery area and wandered the yard. He paused occasionally to pet a bird. A young man came up and asked if George had decided. “Yes,” George said, “That one.”
The man took the bird away to be prepared. Soon after, the heavy steel crane lifted the turkey and the workers just managed to squeeze it into the bed of George’s pickup truck.

Eva Moon

Alma found herself unexpectedly perched atop the cabinet, panting wildly and clinging to the overhead light fixture. Bits of crumbled plaster and acoustic tile littered the floor. She glared down at the doctor.
She’d whacked her toe that morning and the pain had been getting worse all day. She finally made an appointment to have it checked. She told the doctor it was sore, but neither of them had realized quite how sore it was… Until he grasped her right big toe and flexed it.
Now he stood looking up at her in surprise. “Was it that one?” he asked.

Ashley

The transportation onto the pleasure planet Risa came unexpectedly.
Before either of the startled natives could react, he said, “I am James T. Kirk, captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Where are the green women? I need one for … recreation. There,” Kirk said, “I’ll take that one.”
Again, before either of the Risians could speak he stalked over, grasped a tall green hominid and left the room.
“Wasn’t that a self-motile squash that the captain just took,” said the first Risian to the other.
“Yes,” responded his companion, “apparently, great intelligence is not required to captain a Federation Starship.”

Jeffrey

Well it is that time of year a again folks. There is a nip in the air, time to put all the summer equipment away if you have not already. And then there is this.
“So sweetie what did you want?”
“Daddy, I found the one I wanted.”
“Really, which one is that.”
“The one with the red stripes and the pink horn.”
“Really? Don’t you think that one is a bit big for you?”
“Maybe, then how about this one?”
“Well that one is ok I guess.”
“Good, then that is the one I want. I want that one.”

Anima Zabaleta

Yesterday, Bob laughed in the wine shop –
“That one,” the clerk pointed to a Chardonnay/Semillon blend, “goes great with fish.”
“And Chirapa,” giggled Bob.
“How delicious,” he thought, ” Barbeque Chaketo, and a pyre of Chirapa in the tunnels… Chirapa had stolen his beloved Harriet; revenge would be his.
…
Now, Bob quaffed wine contentedly, listening to the sizzle of roasting flesh…
Was the fire buzzing?
Bob didn’t know, that, like the longleaf pine, Chirapa need fire to begin their alternate form of life.
Chirapa song filled his ears: thousands of alien sporazoa flew from the flames, craving blood…

Mary Elizabeth

“What do you think?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to two.”
“Are you going to decide today?”
“Very funny. I’m still not sure what I want.”
“Just choose one.”
“What if I choose wrong?”
“The world won’t end. How about this one?
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You need to make a decision.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Flip a coin already. We don’t have all day.”
“Let me think.”
“Do you want me to decide for you?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes I can. The waitress is getting annoyed, and I’m hungry. Excuse me, miss. He’ll take that one.”

Planet Z

I stood there, watching the lobsters crawl around the tank, their claws bound with rubber bands to keep them from fighting.
They were oblivious to my presence.
My Blackberry rang and crashed. It’s been having problems dropped calls and lockups.
One lobster was staring at me, tapping the glass with a claw.
It was as if… it was trying to tell me something.
“That one,” I said, pointing at it.
They took it out, and I put the phone by it.
With a few taps of its claw, the phone worked.
No dinner – I hired it as my assistant.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Three where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Omission.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #133?
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Guy from http://www.guydavid.com
	Almo
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net
	Norval Joe
	Planet X from http://planetxpodcast.com/
	Ashley
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

STEVEN

“Cindy, this is Jason from work and his wife Megan.” Dan ushered the
two into the kitchen, away from the noises of the party.
“Cindy,” Megan said, “I saw your daughter today. She’s so adorable!”
“Yes, Dan,” Jason said, “She looked wonderful in that dress. Did you
say you had a son, too? Where’s he?”
Dan and Cindy glanced at each other, at the basement door, then to their guests.
“He’s visiting his grandparents,” Cindy said quickly. “Let’s go join
the others back in the den.”
Neither Dan nor Cindy glanced at the door for the rest of the evening.

MARY

Overwhelmed by her own bliss, she barely noticed him dressing to leave. As he softly caressed her face to kiss her goodbye, she was startled by the cool chill of metal on her cheek.
Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at his wedding band.
How could this have happened? Their whirlwind romance seemed so perfect.
Never before had she become intimate with someone so quickly, but they were in love.
He turned and walked away without waiting for her to form a question. “You never asked.”
Rather than love, their relationship was based on a lie of omission.

JUSTIN

Ollie ordered an ostrich omelet but asked they omit the onions. Oliver the waiter gave the order to Otto the chef. Ollie ogled at the opulent onyx ornaments adorning Lady Olivia’s ornate outfit. From outside entered an overly obese officer of the order. It seemed that Lady Olivia obviously overstepped her bounds in not obeying the parking lot ordinance. She objected to the order to off-load her over-sized and orange Oldsmobile out of the compact zone. After an occasion, she obliged the officer, offended. Ollie obtained his order. It was out of line! Onion loving Otto made Ollie olive loaf!

GUY

As bob crawled through underground tunnels, he thought about his omissions. He giggled as he remembered how he omitted Harriet, the apple falling from her head after he blew it up. He smiled as he remembered how he curved Dave The Hacker into omission, starting with his ass, using his army knife. Now it was time to omit those Chirapa into oblivion. He could hear them in the distance. They where singing. Those fuckers where singing Chirapa songs. Then he could see them. He charged, spraying them with bullets from his automatic, and the song of The Chirapa was silenced.

ALMO

Robert snatched the envelope from the FedEx man. It was bulky, solid, the way realized dreams are supposed to feel.
Robert had spent three months assembling his proposal for the city architectural contest. It was edgy but not so much that it would horrify the council. It would create a three-word landmark for the city, like Seattle Space Needle or Sydney Opera House. He had a source who said the judges were absolutely wowed.
He pulled the rip strip. Stamped in on the first page Robert read: “Rejected for omission:” and the line checked below said “Missing applicant signature.”

TOM

M called in 008. It had been a busy week at MI5. 006 had been dispatch on M mission, 007 on N mission and 008 on the most pressing of the three O mission was now reporting. At one point in the debriefing M raise on eyebrow at one salient point of contention. As 008 smiled confidently M raise her Walther PPK clocked 008 in the forehead. “actus non facit reum nisi mens sit rea” she quietly quoted Sir Edward Coke. In British intelligence many sins are overlooked, but the sin of omission, never. 008 prove to be a Chalabi mole.

EVAMOON

Alma shifted her weight on the soft surface and tried not to look at the figure before her. The wait seemed eternal as he perused her record and she found her attention wandering. It really did look just like she’d always imagined it. The imposing gates, the light.
“Ahem”
Her attention was immediately drawn back to the judge.
“Overall, the balance ought to be in your favor.”
She held her breath.
“Except for one glaring sin. One of omission. You didn’t send in your 100 word story this week. That’s gonna cost you.”
Saint Peter picked up the red phone.

NORVAL JOE

What had he misunderstood from the enticing advertisement?
He read the beautifully illustrated pamphlet again.
“All expenses paid
Two weeks in Hawaii
Ocean front condo on Maui
First class seating from any mainland airport
All at no cost. All we require is you.*”
The asterisk on the word ‘you’. There was always an asterisk and you could never find it at the bottom of the page. He searched the advertisement again, realizing with horror that the bottom third of the advertisement had been torn away.
The omission of “*your soul” was what left him standing at the gates of hell.

PLANET X

Dr Odd plugged in the final connection of his latest robot creation and its head slowly rotated, scanning and logging each item it saw into its memory.
Coming to the Doctor’s monkey writing staff, the robot stopped and moved toward Guy and Laieanna,
The robot spoke, “What is your designation and purpose?”
Guy just gestured rudely at the robot, while Laieanna offered a ripe banana to it.
“I would like you” the robot said to Guy.
It was then that the Doctor silently thought, “I made an omission of not telling them that the robot ran on meat and blood”

ASHLEY

John looked across the living room into his wife’s weary eyes and said, “I think the adoption agency may have omitted something.”
Jessica simply stared and continued to chew on her gnawed finger nails.
Suddenly, a gout of flame shot upward from the crib in the next room.
“I think it’s time to feed the baby,” said Jessica.
Both husband and wife sat in silence.
Inside the crib, little Johnny purred as he slowly clawed the eyes out of his new doll.

ANIMA

Are you the next of kin?
Yea… William Tipton. I called when Dad collapsed.
You his son?
Adopted. Kitty should be here… Bill’s gone, huh?
Yes son, gone.
Bill was famous in the day… played piano in jazz clubs all over … You should see the pictures… Always dressed sharp, always with pretty girls…
Later, he and mom hooked up, settled down…
Jeez I loved him… treated me and my brothers like blood.
We tried everything we could, son; I feel for your loss; Look, there’s something you should know… I don’t think your father was the person you think…

PLANET Z

The previous administration’s omission of a Cabinet-level science policy advisor led to a decline in the country’s standing in the fields of science and technology.
As his victory celebration wound to a close, the president-elect was assembling his final choices to lead the country with him.
But the selection of a well-known science advisor was downright difficult.
Just then, a bald, scarfaced pudgy man in a grey suit appeared on the Jumbotron, demanding one billion dollars or he’d destroy the world.
The new president smiled.
“Hello, Doctor Evil,” he said. “You’re just the man I’m looking for.”

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Twowhere 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 Clowns vs. Ninja.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #132?
	Almo Schumann
	Laieanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com/
	Jeff from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Ashley
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Tom from http://midi.libdyn.com
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Philip
	Anima from http://zabbadabba,com
	Planet Xray from http://planetxpodcast.com
	Terry Tee from http://www.terrytee.com/
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

ALMO

The couple sat on opposite sides of mahogany table. She with her lawyer, he with his.
She glared at him. He studied his nails.
He thought, “I should have known this marriage would never work. We were always so different. But there was a burning passion there.”
He sighed.
She sat perfectly still. She looked good in black although you could only see her eyes. They made her leave her sword at the court entrance.
He felt suddenly sad and blew his bulbous red nose, dabbed at his painted-on tear.
“Divorce proceedings can begin,” said the judge. “Clown vs. Ninja.”

LAIEANNA

Korzo the psychotic clown barreled into the fight between clowns and ninjas.
His rage rang out in a deep yell and constant squeaking of his bicycle horn.
Hariku the feather ninja, so light on his feet no one believed he truly
touched the ground, somersaulted before the clown, his sword drawn, edge
out. Korzo stopped just five feet short of bursting through the ninjas gut.
The front of his near empty shoes still jiggled from the speed of his
run. Hariku
bowed, eyes remaining on the clown, and whispered, “Prepare to Fight.”
This is awful. I’m going back nanowrimo. Bye!

JEFF

“Are you the clown or the Ninja?” The director said looking at his clip board.
“You can’t tell man?” I answered.
“Well, you have the black on so I could assume you are the ninja, but what is with the big floppy shoes?” He stifled a yawn.
“Come on man, I am a ninja clown.” I couched in my most menacing ninja stance, then worked the squirt flower.
“A what?”
“A ninja-clown, maybe I should go with clown-ninja, I don’t know what do you think?” I asked.
“Personally I think you need to find a new line of work. Next!”

ASHLEY

To one side he stands slightly hunched and a spectacle for all to see. He wears his bulbous shoes, puffy stripped gloves and a perfectly round bright red nose with pride. In his hands, he wields a seltzer bottle cocked and ready.
Opposite from him she stands, resplendent in her matte black attire. Weapons bristling from every unseen pouch and strapped gaudily across her back. Proudly wearing the black mask of the assassin she stands erect, proud and full of potential lethality.
Soon the war will begin in earnest.
Afterwards, the only winner will be the divorce court lawyer avatars.

JUSTIN

“OK kids, who wants a balloon hat!”
“This clown is lame and scary!”
“How about you Timmy, it is your birthday after all!”
The clown twisted together some balloons. Little did the children know that the balloons would be twisted into an evil shape that would eat the mind of Timmy, feeding the clown.
The clown raised the diabolical balloon hat to Timmy’s head. Two bright glints of metal flew through the air, slicing through the balloons, popping them, then burying into the clowns chest.
The clown toppled over, dead.
The children cheered.
“This is the best party ever, Timmy!”

TOM

The Clown acknowledged the ninja’s indiscretion and so Pie Kata was chosen as the means to maintain honor. Through analysis of thousands of recorded piefights, the Clowns have determined that the geometric distribution of antagonists in any pie battle is a statistically-predictable element. The pie Kata treats the pie as a total weapon, each fluid position representing a maximum kill zone, inflicting maximum damage on the maximum number of opponents, while keeping the defender clear of the statistically-traditional trajectories of return pies. In 20 seconds a 12in pie tin was complete drive down the ninja’s throat. Clown vs Ninja. Ha!

STEVEN

The antiseptic hospital stink makes it through the red rubber nose.
He shuffles faster, seeing her outside his son’s room. His ex-wife’s
distinctive braid swings over a black clad shoulder, a katana across
her back.
He yells over the flapping of his oversize shoes. “A ninja? In a hospital?”
“He likes ninjas!”
“That was a year ago! Clowns make everyone happy!”
He realized that wasn’t true as she hit him.
Later, the police handcuffed them outside the room. Bobby beamed out,
cancer forgotten at the spectacle of clowns fighting ninjas.
His real smile was far bigger than the painted one.

PHILIP

Black. The assassin struck in the darkest hour of the night.
Red. The mark lay in a pool of his own blood.
Black. His clothes, to match the night, shrouded the assassin’s entire body in black, except for his eyes.
Red. His hair, soaked in the blood where it pooled around his head, blood red.
Black. Yellow lights reflected in the assassins black eyes.
Red. Shiny, patent leather boots, not black, but red, below red and white striped stockings, on the lifeless feet.
Black. The black blade, invisible in the night, took down the mark. Ronald didn’t stand a chance.

ANIMA

The Clown: A fuschia ’72 Volkswagen, fueled on 95% personality, 5% luck. Push starts were the norm, and there was always room in the back for more kids and dogs. The Clown had the last laugh, leaving me stranded in Atlanta.
The Ninja: A 280Z in stealth black, with red interior. I was fast, but the Ninja was faster. We would race serpentine mountain roads. It took them 4 hours to free me, the night she tried out Kung Fu moves on the switchbacks.
And now I have Mom. My handicap converted Caravan chaperone… At least I still drive, right?

PLANET XRAY

The promoters were calling it Clown versus Ninja, the match that would set the standard of wrestling for years.
The Clown, Leonard Crapalotski, had just finished an unsuccessful low budget movie and was in the need of a job. Standing at 6′ 3″, and only weighing 125 pounds dripping wet, Leonard was the perfect Clown.
The Ninja, Lo Hung Wang, had just arrived in the country to continue his occupation of loan enforcement. Weighing 200 pounds with quick reflexes, Mr. Wang was the perfect Ninja.
Now, what the promoters really needed was writers and a great script for the match.

TERRY TEE

Only a few days left until the elections, and in the last couple of weeks my home phone has been ringing off the hook with messages from both parties.
They ask questions like; what is more important to you? Health Care? The Economy?
What they really should be asking is, do you think that people are dumb enough to believe the crap that each of the parties is saying about the other?
When it comes down to it, they are politicians after all, and for my money, it’s the Clown versus Ninja, what I ask is which one is which?

GUY DAVID

The plane was crowded with people in Halloween costumes. Chaketo Chirapa stayed hidden under his cloaking device and watched in horror as a man dressed in a clown costume assaulted a woman dressed up as a ninja. He couldn’t hear what they where arguing about from his hiding place, but when the man pulled out a gun he was sure he wouldn’t make it back. Thankfully, the clown was nailed down and arrested by a mean looking stewardess before the actual takeoff. As the plane took off, Chaketo Chirapa wondered what his Chirapa where doing back at their underground alcove.

PLANET Z

They were identical only in appearance. The twins were like night and day for everything else.
Especially when it came to birthdays.
Billy wanted a clown, but Bobby wanted a ninja.
“What that?” their mother asked.
“He’s quiet and deadly and all dressed in black,” said Bobby.
“We’ll have to ask your father,” said mom.
Bobby’s heart sank as he watched the clown make balloon animals for Billy.
All the kids were laughing and cheering.
Until… a flash of steel from the shadows.
The clown’s head fell from his shoulders.
“Happy birthday,” whispered a fluttering blur, and it was gone.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-One where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Asylum.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #131?
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Ashley
	Kolek
	Evamoon from http://evamoon.net
	Almo
	Mike
	Philip
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Guy from http://guydavid.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Justin

*
What are you in for?
I didn’t do it, I didn’t make the flames. They say I did! Criminally insane? I am harmless as a baby kitten, yes, a baby kitten! Mew mew!
*
Well, I know for a fact you’re not a baby kitten.
Mew?
*
No, you are not.
Why are you here?
*
Same reason as you, buddy.
You mean you didn’t do anything? Are you a kitty too?
*
Oh no, I’m innocent, but you aren’t, and it is your fault I’m here!
Mew? My fault?
*
Because I’m stuck in your silly head! I didn’t think you’d actually do it!

Ashley

So…I’m going to visit the asylum again.
At least they asked nicely this time, otherwise I may have decided to vacation somewhere else this year. Besides, I really like the asylum. After all, this is where the well-adjusted people are. Of course all those sheep and ants scurrying to and fro out in the so called real world think that they are balanced, but myself and a few select others know differently. Hopefully the service and hospitality will be as good as my earlier visits.
It will be nice to intermingle again with people who are fully sane…just like me.

Kolek

Mmmmmm. I’m back. I’m livin the good life. -8
Cruising with my boyz. Sportin a fresh brown Armani with matching Gucchi shades. Getting into fights. People turnin their heads. Later each night, getting head. -33
Pushin on 24 sumitomos, my SUV thumps the ground with 15 subs. Alternating ‘tween Yokes and Zanzibar, O-lounge and all those other clubs. -56
Well… not exactly. The rolex wasn’t real, the armani was “borrowed,” and my SUV is 12 years old. Still better than two years ago. Still Fly. My homeys got my back; my boss cashin the bank. -92
Yah I’m called “Kolek.” And I’m back bitches.

Eva Moon

“Joe, I swear it was the strangest thing. I was in the middle of a lecture and suddenly a wild-eyed woman in a straightjacket materialized out of thin air.”
“Quite a few ghosts haunt this university.”
“Ghosts?”
“It’s true . This place used to be a state mental hospital. Didn’t you know? The Eagles wrote ‘Hotel California’ about it.”
“Huh. I didn’t know that.”
“So many of the inmates who died here hang around that the university even has an admissions policy for them.”
“Admissions policies for ghosts?”
“Yeah: you can audit any class you like but you can never leave.”

Almo

They came on a moonless night, by luck not design. The waves lapped gently against the shore but the boaters could hear it from a distance.
It whispered asylum.
The roar of a Coast Guard engine startled them. They hunkered down as the searchlight swept over their craft. They were tempted to swim. Wet foot, you go home. Dry foot, you can stay.
They trusted luck.
In the morning, immigration agents found a boat on the beach. A dozen Styrofoam coolers lashed together with twine. An agent kicked at the boat and piece broke off. “They earned it,” he said.

Mike

The newscast had reported the utter devastation of the towns of Asylum in California and Pennsylvania as a macabre coincidence. He’d spotted the telltale signs, though, and had been horrified, knowing he was to blame.
He had left a message, denouncing the regime and declaring his intention to cross over and seek asylum. Apparently, his intention had been mistaken for a literal destination, and the Enforcement Fleet had been dispatched through the portal with orders to destroy him and his hiding place. Overcome with guilt, he knew he must act; unfortunately, his suicide wasn’t in time to save Sanctuary, Texas.

Philip

Ulnar Styloid, clan chief of the Olecranon Process, glanced up from his desk. A harried guard informed him, “The distal Interphalangeal Epyphases have entered our system. Their vessels are forming up in the Glenoid Fossa.”
“Attack on the the Dorsal Interosii will be next.” Ulnar concluded, “Naturally, they will come to us for asylum.” He pondered the back of his hand, then cracked his knuckles. He spoke to the guard, “Tell the Interosii they may land their vessels on Tibial Plateau and inhabit the length of the Vastus Lateralis.”
Ulnar Styloid smiled grimly; his nemesis, Vas Deferens, would arrive soon.

Jeffrey

Some wild things happen at the asylum for the criminally insane. But what I like is the asylum for the criminally sane, those people are crazy. Not crazy insane, but crazy as in they are in complete control of all their faculties, but still totally out there. There is nothing like that place. I go and just listen to the people. In the insane asylum you get the screams and crying, at the sane asylum all you hear is whispering and the gentle scratch of chalk on a blackboard as they figure out the meaning of the universe.

Guy

Dave the hacker was sure now that Bob belonged in an asylum. When he came with this crazy idea that The Chirapa where real aliens, he just shrugged and started working on tracking them. Harriet was his best friend and the least he could do was to help that crazy husband of hers. He was an avid listener of The Chirapa podcast since Harriet turned him into that, but he knew it was fiction. He was surprised when he actually found something, so he pinpointed it for Bob on his Google Map. Bob smiled and puled out an army knife.

Anima

It was late, but Isabela had made it to the church.
In a panic, she pounded on the door.
Soccoro, padre, please help, the federales are after me…
How could he not let her in?
You will have to stay here in the church…
Please, sleep quickly; do not open your eyes until I come for you in the morning.
Brother Theodore was bound by church law to provide asylum, but he was not sure that a night here was better than facing the federales
Slowly he walked down the center aisle, preparing to snuff the candles for the night./blockquote>
Steven

I slam against the gate of the American embassy. The Marines watch,
ordered to keep the gate closed. I plead, beg, but they raise their
M16s at me… and at the policemen chasing me. One pursuer, groaning,
loses a rotting finger.
I recognize the female Marine. I had begged her for safety for my
merely political crimes, back when the police just wanted to torture
my flesh.
She slides a revolver with a single bullet through the bars. A tear
slips down her dusty, expressionless face. The hungry police shamble
down the street. I salute her and raise the pistol.

Tom

The gates at Bellevue lay their shadow across room 412. Within the man who would be president sat very still strapped to the wall. The winter of 2020 was the coldest on record when the patient in 412 stopped responding to his name. From then on he would only reacted when someone said “Hey Joe.” “That’s Joe the Plumber to you.” The asylum was the home to a number of other great American politicians like John Mc Cain, Dan Quail and someone named Rudy. Who would have thought a Libertarian named Wurzelbacher could have taken out B. O. in 2012.

Planet Z

Little Bobby is crazy.
He gathered up bricks from a construction site and made a prison for his sister’s dollies.
No. Not a prison. These dollies weren’t just criminals.
They were criminally insane.
An insane asylum.
Mr. Potatohead had identity issues. GI Joe’s post-traumatic stress disorder left him with incurable rage.
Stretch Armstrong? Far, far too accommodating to survive in society. A pushover.
That left Barbie to diagnose. What was it she did to get locked up in here.
Like clockwork, Ken visited every week. Through the glass, Barbie would scream I WILL CUT YOUR TONGUE OUT!
Poor girl.

Inflict this upon:

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty 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 And then you put it in the blender….
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #130?
	Fricker Fracker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Mike
	Wilma
	Nika from http://www.nikadreamscape.wordpress.com
	Keeme from http://darpodcast.wordpress.com
	Guy from http://guydavid.com
	Philip
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Steve from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Almo
	Brad from http://inventors.about.com/library/inventors/blblender.htm
	Jeff from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Fricker

Back in 1868, Jose and myself were about to rob the 801 coming out of
Barstow. It was hot and dry day and we were getting mighty thirsty. The 801
was late as usual and all we had to drink was tequila, We were getting drunk
on all that harsh tequila until Jose informed us that he was from the future
and pulled out this fancy thing called a blender and he had an automatic ice
machine.
He sliced up some limes and put it all in this futuristic contraption and
then he gives us this juice. He called it.. the Margarita!
I’m glad that Jose Cuervo was a friend of mine

Anima

Is that a Terran artifact?
Yes, an ancient torture book I think…
This Fannie Farmer was a cruel Enforcer…
No mercy for dissidents… listen…
Beat the whites until frothy…
Quarter the chicken, cutting along the backbone…
Grill over low flame, until skin is crisp…
Or this…
Take the fruits, put them in the blender, pulse until smooth…
Can you imagine the mess?
If that’s the treatment for proclivities, I wonder what Farmer did to anarchists?
Life is more civilized now…
If there is weakness in the gene pool, it’s eliminated before emergence from the test tube.
Homogeny equals peace, brother.

Mike

No standard diet products had worked, and all were expensive. Then he’d caught the end of that infomercial promising amazing results using simple veggies and water; before the theme music had ended, he’d placed his order. When the instructions and blender arrived, he couldn’t wait to try it.
Now, he looked at the booklet in disgust. He had spent thirty minutes cubing ten carrots and cucumbers. He read the last sentence again: “Then you put it in the blender. This recipe depends on fresh veggies; ensure you have enough for each batch.”
The blender made quick work of the booklet.

Wilma

Everybody must have at least two doses of nonsense with one serving of silly each day. To get your daily dose slowly skip into the kitchen, while tempting a thought tornado to twist. Let visions of chickens in pink, polka dot underwear yelling, “I’m free!” dance across your mind’s screen. For pizzaz toss in a chartreuse platypus singing “Higgely, Wiggely Aye. Where’s my opera pie?” And let these pictures, songs and scents whizz together into a marvelous mind mousse. Then tilt your head and let the mousse slide out of your ear and into the blender. Add ice and puree.

Nika

Eyes closed. She was dreaming.
She was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter. Perched there with the backs of her heels drumming gently against the cupboard doors. They were talking.
He dumped a handful of raspberries into the blender and switched it on high, before casting a crooked grin her way. Her nose crinkled in distaste as she watched the mixture churning together. He was saying something to her. But the words slipped away like smoke before she could quite hear. Nightfall was once again approaching, pulling her from the deep sleep.
Her eyes opened. She was alone.

Keeme

Edie, a forgiving woman, had been married to “Chef” for years. She caught him cheating again and made a deal, allowing “desserts”.
[In walks a redhead; Chef’s favorite]
“Hi, I’m Mary”
[A brief tour, then the kitchen].
Edie “you’ll be making lobster with crab-dip stuffing”.
[Hands Mary Chef’s recipe]
“When it’s done you can…”
[Mary, confused, interrupts]
“I’m here for a patient”
“I know, follow me”.
[Horrified, Mary stares]
“He must be fed and cared for by a nurse. Take his meal, then you put it in the blender”
A faceless man, alone, unable to taste his favorite dishes anymore.

Guy

Chaketo Chirapa was stuck at the airport. His plane was cancelled,
and there wasn’t another one until tomorrow. He avoided The Humans
and stayed hidden under his cloaking device, catching fragments of
Human speech.
– Had to send it beck…
– Is she really going out with that guy? Is she crazy?…
– Then you put it in the blender…
– I don’t think you should be telling her that…
– Then, I turned her into a frog…
As he listened more and more, he was less and less sure of his way.
Should he really try to gain the trust of those strange Humans?

Philip

When he entered the dimly lit store the clerk was a statue; his ancient skin, pale grey as cement; chin on chest in apparent slumber.
The clerk hadn’t moved when the young man passed him and ambled down the aisle to the frozen food.
A voice started him from his stasis, ” …then you put it in the blender…”, and it trailed off down the aisle to his right.
He turned to the direction of the receding voice and in his minds’ eye, followed it to the door, where it left him behind.
“Take me!” he screamed, but without sound.

Tom

Laura was concerned about her kitten Ralph. He had been left outside in the rain and he was drenched to the bone. Carefully she wrap him in a towel and popped him into the micro wave. After a few minutes Laura thought Ralph’s fur looked a bit matting so she set the hair dry on high and ran it over the cat for a bit. Not totally pleased with the outcome a tiny voice within said “Then you put it in the blender…” Thank God for Mom who finally rescued Ralph from baby Laura and thank God for Fisher – Price Appliances.

Justin

Should I try selling the blender, or the lighters? No ashtrays, blender.
Yes?
Hello ma’am! Can I interest you in a state of the art blender?
Come in! Show me in the kitchen.
She opened the kitchen door and I set up my presentation on the island. The old woman seemed nice. I don’t take advantage, mind you.
So, this blender can cut through… blend this newt, bat wings, and octopus eye? Wait a minute!
I tossed the lighters in the blender, hit On, slammed the door behind me, and dove out the front door.
I hate selling in Salem.

Steven

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The guests praise the drinks, my
bartending skills. It is part of why Vinnie’s parties are popular.
I used to be the bad child, “not gonna amount to nothing”; a stark
contrast to my sister’s channeled angel… until Vinnie took me in. A
foot soldier, then lieutenant, now barkeep and “cleaner”. I’d
straightened up even as gambling devoured my sister’s bank account,
house, marriage. Her debts got out of hand. Her assets
were…liquidated.
“Howdja get your Bloody Marys so good?” a mobster calls at me.
“Family secret,” I say, heading towards the kitchen.

Almo

The photo showed two people completely in love. You could tell from her eyes and her smile.
Roger put the picture in a stack with the others, next to his cell phone. He had just called her in the middle of the night to hear her voice. It was their first time apart. A man had answered; Roger hung up when he heard the sleepy feminine voice in the background.
He straightened the stack and then put it into the blender. He switched it on, then blindly switched off the phone with the wrong number still backlit on the screen.

Brad Z

“It’s simple.” Fred’s boss had explained, “Put them in the Blender. Check the restraints. The blue button engages the restraints. The yellow button unlocks the braking mechanism. The green button starts the Blender up and finally the red button will stop the the Blender when the time is up. It’s not that hard”
Fred’s boss wasn’t pleased with him at all. This was the second time he had forgotten to engage the restraints. That was very bad for business. Cleanup and body disposal took an hour.
Still, they waited in line. It was more exciting than the Tilt-A-Whirl.

Jeff

Hello
Seti Inbox message:
Hello Seti user 91b235f59a396d54g0c5f27cd5b8d168
We are very amused by your search for us. We are touched by the fact that you care so much, to spend your time looking for us, but we are not lost. We picked up a map at the Texico station, it has been quite useful. But we are not sure what a NEW JERSEY or TURN PIKE are.
We do appreciate all of the things that you have been sending us, especially the Beagle craft, it was a little tough at first but then we put it in the blender. Once softened up it was Yummy

Planet Z

I bought a couch, table, and blender at that church sale.
The couch reeked of cat piss, the table wobbled and the blender’s motor was dead.
I should have tested it before the party.
The couch and table, thrown out. The blender, I kept. Held a goldfish.
Chicks came by my place, I showed them the fish and pushed a button.
Some laughed, some called me evil and left.
Eighty years since I put that fish in the blender. Goldfish aren’t supposed to live that long.
What are you? I ask it.
No answer. It’s just a fish, right?