Weekly Challenge – Page 86 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #129 – Light

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Cenedra, and we went with Light.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

Anima

Ai! Mama, I am afraid!
What is it, hijo?
I saw the chupacabra! That is his shadow on the wall… he is outside!
You saw what? Your grandmother has been telling you
stories…She would have to talk to Abuela about frightening the boy.
I only see your cousin Lupito, coming home late… Go to sleep now, hijo mio.
Can I have a light, mama? The chupacabra might come back….
Just for a while…
Luz knew that soon, she would have to tell her son about the
family history, that there were real monsters, much much more frightening than some
village myth.

Nika

She sat on the hillside, shrouded by the shadows from a cluster of bushes. Gazing out over the city that had been her home for the past two years, the Hollywood sign loomed behind her. The lights of the city sparkled in the darkness, reflecting upward to paint the horizon a rusty shade of red. It had taken her months to resolve her decision on what to do next, but she had decided.
The breeze stirred, awaking her from her reverie as it whispered across her fur. Amber eyes turned upward to find the moon. It was time to leave.

Philip

Grimey black and grey tiles invited him down grocery store ailes of increasing gloom and darkened potential. Shadowed boxes and cans in layered dust offered hidden rewards.
Overhead the yellowed and brown stained palstic filtered the weak florescence, illuminating nothing.
He turned to look back and saw, far off, down a tunnel, or in a dream, a memory: the door.
When had he come in through the door?
Beyond the door was the city with its cars, and people, and places; and life.
Here was dark, an aisle, dust, and the door.
In the door was a window and light.

Tom

Fred woke up in hell. The light was dim but not dark. He looked around and saw this pleasant green glow he remembered from his childhood. His grandma’s round green
nightlight.
“That the devil’s nightlight” said Larry the demon.
“I thought hell was supposed to be full of torments. Why a night light?”
“Oh Heavens, there aren’t any torments here. The light is there so you don’t bump
your knee.”
“What about punishment?”
“Absence of God.”
“Hell that’s you so bad.”
Larry tucked Fred into bed and kissed him good night. Fred remembered just how much
he missed his grandma.

Steven

Harsh morning sunlight woke me in the field. I was beside the
gnawed-on corpse of Vinnie. Bits of shredded clothes and shredded
Vinnie slid off me when I stood up. Damn. Three weeks of undercover
work ruined because I was hungry and couldn’t remember wolfsbane.
I gave Vinnie’s corpse a once-over, not expecting anything left.
Chewed tendon, maybe, but not a… pre-paid cell phone. With an
incoming call on it.
My smile scared the desk cop when he traced the call, when he gave me
a name. Tonight, I will solve the case. Tonight, I will hunt by
moonlight.

Mike

He labored under the heavy burden, almost more than even he could lift, and began the trek home. The sun’s rays beat mercilessly from the cloudless sky, reflecting up at him from the white surface. The heat was intense, but he couldn’t stop. He had a task to complete – others depended on him.
Suddenly, just as pounding vibrations warned of approaching danger, a shadow passed over him and then a light brighter than the sun itself appeared, immobilising, searing him, until –
In the magnifying glass’s focused beam, the ant popped. The boy laughed, then went in search of more prey.

Almo

There is a time when a man has to choose. He sits at the bar, fingers
playing over the mahogany, thinking done. He stares into space for a
moment, reviewing once again the mental calculations, the logical steps, the
intuition that has brought him to this point.
He breathes and holds. He exhales long and hard.
His mind and conscience are clear.
The time for thought has been shoved aside by the time for action.
He glances up at the woman’s expectant face on the other side of the
bar, her body partially hidden by beer taps.
“Light,” he says.

Eva Moon

She noticed it as soon as she got up: she was lighter. Not thinner,
but somehow less affected by gravity. Her feet hardly touched the
carpet as she drifted downstairs. TV Newscasters were grim: global
warming, pollution, the end of the world.
She grew lighter as the day went on. By evening she had to hook her
toes under the edge of the cabinet to stay low enough to cook dinner.
Later, the moon shone bright in the window. She opened it and floated
up into the icy night. Around her countless other shapes were rising.
Spores seeking fertile soil.

Justin

Now dead, I’m not surprised by the tunnel or the light at one end. I am surprised that the light is a zippo. While I didn’t particularly believe in an afterlife until now, I’d seen enough movies to not be too surprised. I am a bit concerned, though. I never listened to anyone when they tried to tell me about God, Jesus loves me, all that stuff. The fact I was shot by cops after murdering has me on edge, too. I’m grabbing the zippo, nothing bad is happening. I guess I’ll travel the tunnel.
“Hey buddy, got a light?”

Fricker

I had a dream last night … a dream of my little girl swinging at the local
playground, laughing, smiling… enjoying life
A dream of her going off to school in cute little pigtails… carrying her
My Little Pony lunch box… enjoying life
A dream of teaching her how to drive and how not to drive like her father.
Being scared out of my wits when I gave her the keys for the first time, but
not showing it.
I awoke from my dream when she turned on the living room light. “Daddy,
it’s time to walk me down the isle.”
She is my light.

Planet X

The forces of light began gathering their troops for the battle against dark ones.
Billy Bob was one of the first to enlist into the legions of light, hoping to be amongst those who would make the assault.
The day Billy Bob was issued his Star Trooper uniform; he was so proud, parading around, showing off the power of it to his family and friends.
He trained day and night to be a Star Trooper of the mighty fleet of starships.
Billy Bob was more than puzzled when he was given his job classification, just what was a “Head” Orderly?

Jeffrey

“MIS, Jeff.”
“Hi Jeff, this is vendor Bill”
“Hi Bill.”
“Jeff, what’s the Joke?”
“Huh?”
“I got your package.”
“Help me out. I didn’t send a package.”
“It has a Polaroid of a computer screen.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Nope!”
“I told you know who to get a screen shot of the error.”
“The one with the typewriter?
“The same.”
“Maybe If the light from the flash didn’t obscure the screen.”

Guy David

Back in their hotel room, Bob was looking at his now drunken Harriet with distaste. She was completely oblivious. Bob sighed. He remembered Mike the hacker’s ass, rising and falling rhythmically above his Harriet, both of them so deep in ecstasy that they didn’t noticed the light in the hallway or the fact that he was standing there, staring at them before he went back out into the street. He looked at that Burroughs book Harriet brought with her. He stared at the apple he just took a bite off. “Let’s play a little game of William Tell” he said.

Wilma

Planet Z

Brother Theodore closes the door to the church and goes from candle to candle, gently snuffing each with a brass implement caked in ancient wax and soot.
“We will not clean it until Christ’s return,” said his predecessor, just as he has taught his own eventual replacement.
“When do I light them?” asked Theodore.
“You don’t,” said the old priest hastily. “They light themselves. And don’t get curious about it. Just… believe.”
Theodore stayed up to watch. Every rector of the church did it. And every rector regretted it afterward, the sight of a smiling demon licking each wick aflame

Weekly Challenge #128 – Airplane

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Brad Z, and we went with Airplane.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

GUY DAVID

Meeting Harriet and Bob left Chaketo Chirapa a little shaken. Harriet
was friendly enough, though a little too friendly, but Bob, that was
another matter altogether. There was a look in his eyes Chaketo
Chirapa didn’t like at all. He though about his Chirapa, left alone
without a leader while he was out meeting podcasters, actors and
people in strange alien suits that looked nothing like the real
aliens he had seen in pictures back home. Home. He could almost see
the underground tunnels. A sudden wave of yearning washed over him.
He decided to catch the next airplane home.

JEFF HITE

“Look, up in the sky.”
“Hey, is that the Flashback?”
“Come on, you know the Flashback doesn’t fly. It must Superguy!”
“Are you crazy? Superguy’s costume doesn’t look anything like that. Maybe it is one of the of league of bad guys.”
“Do they even have anyone that can fly like that? I thought they all had machines to help them fly.”
“True, true. Then who could it be?”
“What are you guys doing?”
“Oh Hi, we are trying to figure out what super hero that is up there.”
“Really? Where?”
“Right up there.”
“That thing?”
“Yup that one.”
“Dudes that’s and airplane.”

Justin

The Kamikaze pilot drank and began trying to impress the girl next to him with a war story.
My Zero lifted from the runway and I flew high into the air. It was my sole duty and honor to die that day. I flew in with the sun at my back so the enemy could not easily see me. But there were already enemy airplanes flying, and from the side, they spotted me! I dodged their fire, shooting one plane down, then flew my Zero into the side of a destroyer, leaving a deadly wound.
When did this happen?
Tomorrow.

Tom

They gather about the bamboo frame representation of the sky god. They had been gathering since 1937. When the oxford anthropologist inquire to the deity’s name a older Micronesian told her they called the god Amelia. Some what rattled by the revelation she asked if the old woman had actually talked to the aviator. “Sure, want to meet her?” After climbing to the top of Myamypoa the anthropologist spied the Lockheed Electra 10E. There in the cockpit was Earhart speaking calmly into a radio set who’s battery had long been dead. Her battery however was good for another 1000 years.

Steven the Nuclear Man

College-ruled paper had never looked so violent before.
“Rat-a-tat-tat!” Sam maneuvered the folded remains of the notepad
into familiar twisting dogfights. “K-pow!” One, then two paper
planes went down in imaginary flames.
My old injuries ached, and I shifted against the smooth leather of my
chair. Who had told my grandson? Who had let him watch the video?
“Then,” the boy narrated, “the bastards snuck up from behind and …
boom!” The last plane – my plane – spiraled to the green carpet.
“That’s how it happened, right grandpa?”
I rose, balanced on my prosthetic legs, and left the house in silence.

Brad Z

Yellow wands taxi the aircraft into place. A grateful Tomcat kneels in
gratitude and prepares for flight once again. Maintenance personal
scurry around the aircraft in a well choreographed dance that
completes the final check. Raw power illuminates the night as fire
erupts from the exhaust. Vibration rattles to your bones as full power
is reached. Personal signal everything is go. Salutes are given. The
catapult speeds down the deck with the aircraft in tow and the Tomcat
becomes airborne once again. Jet blast deflectors are lowered. The
dancers await their next partner as she taxis up to the catapult.

Wilma

What’s a lovely like you doing at Sid’s?
I love the romantic atmosphere scented with sweat and grease, a real ladies’
place. What’s your story cowboy?
Name’s Airplane. I ride with the Angels.
Why Airplane?
I have powerful legs. I propel myself off my bike and fly with my arms out
to the side, like an airplane.
Do you do that for shits and giggles?
Nah. For the biker bros. I fly over them I tap them on their third eye
giving them a vision they need to see.
And you roll with the Hell’s Angels?
No, not those angels.

Laieanna

“Welcome to Angel Planes where we take you beyond the sky.”
“Angel. You mean I’m…”
“How else would you come to the halfway point?”
“But mankind has planes.”
“Thank the muses. Name?”
“I remember driving but…what was that?”
“Realization. Let’s move on. Name?”
“Edward Nelson.”
“Oh dear. I’m afraid you’re not booked for a flight, sir.”
“Why not? Are you saying I’m going down there?”
“Unfortunately. Just take that hall to your left and when you reach..”
“I’m flying to damnation?”
“Not at all. When you reach the end of the hall, take the helevator. It
goes straight to ground floor.”

Anima

Uncle Louie is magical when he makes airplanes.
A crease here, a fold there, and then he blows a little fairy dust under the
wings to make them fly right.
He’s so good, he even gives his planes windows.
“Why windows?” I asked
“So people can look out, silly.”
A few puffs, and I have a fleet!
Evening settles in, I want something more.
“Do planes fly when they’re on fire?”
“Hmmm…Let’s walk down to the lake and find out….”
I light wings and launch the planes over the water.
“Ooooo! Look! you can see the people panicking inside!”

Mike

(text missing)

Planet Z

Back in WW2, I worked on decoys.
Inflatable tanks. Rubber soldiers. Balsawood airplanes.
One night, while manning the lights at a fake airfield, a colonel arrives on a motorcycle and yells for a plane.
The Red Baron is on the loose! He shouts.
Drunk as a skunk.
Before I can stop him, he’s hopped in a decoy fighter and yelling for the
crew to arm him and taxi him to the runway.
My laughter stopped when the rubber men began to stir.
I didn’t come out of the tower until after he landed, hoisted shoulders-high to the empty Officers Club.

Weekly Challenge #127 – Ikea

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Justin NWAAAAAAAAAAARRRRMMMM Space Turtle, and we went with IKEA.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

Brad Z

Management is always sending us overseas to keep a eye on sales. It’s ridiculous. Sales are always great. Need something to spice up your pad? Then you shop our stores like everyone else. I’m starting to hate these trips. I want hazard duty pay. Last month Fred was stepped on by some giant lizard. Two others got it by a giant moth. Then there was ………… what was that. IKEA! Hey that’s trademarked! Crap, marketing is going to hate this. Wonder what you would call a giant space turtle anyhow? Ouch, Justin just got stepped on. That’s gonna leave a mark.

Mike

The news helicopter hovered over the neighborhood, recording images of the storm’s devastation. Everywhere, the broken shells of single story homes were visible among the piles of debris. Suddenly, the camera zoomed in on a man clearing the yard in front of an apparently undamaged home. A news crew was dispatched.
Upon arriving, the reporter noted the house’s odd composition and asked the man what it was, and how it had helped the house survive.
“38 premium wall units from Ikea,” he replied. “That building permit guy pitched a fit, when he first saw it. This oughta shut him up.

Tom

Grandma kicked the bucket yesterday. We really didn’t like her that much she was grandmama from hell. Jack wanted to stuff her in a glad lawn bag, but Cindy Lou thought that was a bit extreme. After rolling some change we had sitting around in pint glasses we headed down to the local Ikea. It seems they just opened a interment department. We got a nice simulated oak patterned coffin with simulated brass fittings. Everything fit in the back of the Subaru. Now all we got to do is put it together. Lets see Peg A goes in slot B.

Justin

Thor and Loki gathered a pencil and a store map. In the Ikea showroom, Thor wrote down row and bin numbers for the desired items, asking Loki for advice. Ikea was the best place to get magical weapons and armor in Asgard. Down in the self-serve warehouse, Thor gathered up his items. Mjöllnir, a mighty hammer, Megingjord, a strength boosting belt, and Járngreipr, special iron gloves to wield the hammer. At the checkout, Thor got some meatballs for the dinner he’d want after fighting giants. Ikea no longer sells mythic weapons, but the item naming system is still in use.

Patti

Ikea?
yes; of course l remember, all those years ago.
We met, and l fell in love. Strong and beautiful, smooth, sensual.
Looking sleek and suave, unusual in a button tufted and ruffled world.
Glowing wood veneer, rich leather, a tactile delight.
Exotic umlaute to tickle my tongue.
Oh Ikea, I wanted you so; desired you, needed you. Only distance kept us apart.
Meeting again by chance recently, I found you have changed. l barely recognized you. Maybe its me, l don’t know.
All l know is that I cried that night. We had a chance once, but nevermore.
So keep your puce pouf and your overpriced storage solutions! My heart is broken.
You are dead to me.

Anima

IKEA customer service, how can I help you?
Yes, I bought a desk…. The hardware packets are missing; if I give you the part numbers….
Box it up and return it to IKEA, and we’ll give you a new bed frame.
I bought a DESK, the Skandobirk,,, really, I just need hardware. I live out of state….
Can you mail it to me? I’ll pay postage –
I’m sorry… If something’s missing, you can get a refund, or make an exchange. Please use the original packaging, and include all hardware and instructions…
MUHAHAHAHA!
IKEA customer service, how can I help you?

Guy David

As an antique dealer, Harriet was always appalled by Ikea, but that
was nothing like the shock when she saw the lobby furniture at the
Hyatt Regency Atlanta. This was forgotten however when she spotted
Sigler and Hutchins, the podcasting twins. She rampaged forward to
give the unsuspecting podcast novelists a huge hug. They where saved
though when she spotted that Chirapa fellow. Bob dragged alone as she
went over to assault the poor alien with hugs and kisses. For a
minute, bob and The Chirapa’s eyes met. Bob was shocked and
surprised, as he realized The Chirapa were real.

Sougent

Oh lordy, Ike, he be a comin’ soon now. He gonna be blowin’ us away.
Jim Bob, youse worrying too much.
Ain’t no way Ike’s a gonna be doin any blowin’ away dis week, he be’s
in da hospital gettin’ brain surgery.
Doncha remember, his gal done hit him on de head wid de fryin pan.
Well, he ain’t gonna like this none, was bad enough we “borrowed” his
car ta go get us some beer, but you had ta go and run right into the
side of his trailer, nearly kilt his dawg.
Ike, he’s a gonna be mad.

Cenedra

I turned off the ignition, looked out the window, and felt a sense of nostalgia take over me.
“When I was a little girl I used to come here. I remember the nights we played hide and seek until it got dark and our parents came to get us. I remember playing tag in the winter, laughing as we tried to run in deep snow. There was that one weekend when Tammi broke her arm. We didn’t know what to do, we were so scared.”
“What’s that honey? No. It wasn’t IKEA back then, there used to be trees here.”

Daphne

Over the years since IKEA opened I’ve found myself wandering the showroom looking at displays and picking up stuff. Sometimes practical, sometimes needed and sometimes odd objects find their way into my recyclable blue bag. I have dishes from there, a bench that holds shoes and sits at the end of my bed, freestanding kitchen cabinets in my craft room and a stuffed rat that sits on my desk. Sometimes I have planned shopping trips, sometimes it’s just something to do on a rainy day. I went there after my Dad’s surgery. I bought a heart shaped pillow with arms.

Wilma

How was the Cowgirls Convention?
Not bad.
Anything interesting this year?
Yup. One unusual booth with a banner sayin’ ‘You too delicate to ride a bronc?’ That roped in alot of girls. Get this: it was a vibrator company called Buckin’ Broncs.
Really? Have they ever had vibrators at a convention before?
Once. In Vegas. But this booth offered a challenge with one of its models called Bronc Ike–Yee-Haw. The lady at the booth claimed Ike would have you hollerin’ yee-haw before the 8 second bell rang.
No shit? Did you give it a ride?
Yee-Haw, baby, Yee-Haw

Laeianna

When Ikea actually came to Lisa’s podunk town, every resident of Wind Willow Trailer Park scrounged up their savings, turned in cans, and searched cushions to find whatever money they could to buy items for making their small living space a modern home. Lisa stuck with her old furniture, opting to spend on something different.
Not long after, the boredom set in, folks seeing the same thing in their neighbor’s trailer, and Lisa got used to the park watching her swim in her spacious pool. She even had occasional entertainment when someone would step to close to the electric fence.

Thomas

Louis’ was a modular life. Everything in his life was interchangeable and compact. Nothing was permanent, from his shoebox apartment to his relationships. He saw Ikea as the ideal of his existence, with it’s slim packaging, and clean, tidy looks.
When Lou was married he easily relegated his wife to a small compartment of his soul, which was just as easily removed after the divorce. His friends were removed as fast as one cross word or angry glance.
Louis’ ashes were buried in a small metal box purchased from Ikea. A fitting end to a small, bitter, lonely old man.

Planet Z

Things were rough at Shawshank.
Too many men going in, not enough coming out.
Two men to a bed at one point. Good for The Sisters, but not for keeping the peace.
The prison was ordered by the courts to buy new furniture for the inmates.
The warden got himself a huge budget for it, then cheaped out, buying from IKEA.
You know how they always have parts left over after you make something?
Makes good ladders, tunnel supports. One man even rigged up a DaVinci glider.
Solved the overcrowding problem overnight.
Just Old Red, sitting in the yard, laughing.

Steven the Nuclear Man

The door pounds again, bending under the strain. “What the hell is…”
Sarah is ash grey, eyes wide beneath her dreads. Overstrong
sandalwood incense still makes me want to sneeze, but now I can smell
something else underneath. Something stale copper.
“Missy said,” Sarah’s voice is a squeak, “she’s becoming a sangui…
doing some vampire thing with these hot college guys…” There is a
scratching at the window, and I know we can’t escape.
“Put your clothes back on, baby,” I tell her, counting the hours until
sunrise. I smash the wood furniture, making impromptu stakes.
Thank God for Ikea.

Weekly Challenge #126 – Fuzzy Dice

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-Six, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
Yeah this went an extra week. Sorry about the delay, but there was a little deal with some wind… some rain… flying cows, all that crap.
The topic this week was selected by Fricker Fracker, and we went with Fuzzy Dice.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

JUSTIN

He brought what?
Fuzzy dice!
I thought Dungeons and Dragons used twenty-sided dice.
It does, but this guy had twenty-sided fuzzy dice!
Was it some kind of joke, or what?
He insisted on playing with the dice! He rolled with them and everything!
They worked?
Apparently. They seemed to work like any other dice, other than they were fuzzy.
Was he cheating?
Don’t think so, normal rolls. Some lucky rolls, some bad ones.
Did anyone say anything?
Just a few weird looks.
Maybe next time he’ll bring the ones that you hang on your rear view mirror like everyone else.

TOM

Darlene and Bobbie where high school sweethearts. They got married the year after Bobbie graduated. His dad got him a job at the steel mill, and grandma Robert got Bobbie a 1948 De Soto. Darlene got Bobbie a pair of fuzzy Dices. After hanging them up on the rearview mirror they climb into the backseat and set about making Little Rob. Years later Little Rob would ask why she called him fuzzy dice. She would just blush and then start crying. Bobbie got drafted in 49 and was buried in 50. Darlene put the fuzzy dices on his flag draped coffin.

STEVEN SAUS

The thrum of the idling engine couldn’t keep up with my nervous
heartbeat. My luck couldn’t screw us over this time. All I had to do
was drive the getaway car. Just skill and planning. I touched the
soft pink dice sitting beside me. Nothing distinctive about me, the
car, or the day. Just a run of the mill bank robbery.
The joyriding kid’s car squealed out of control around the corner and
smashed into the side of mine. Two flips and I stopped upside down.
My dice tumbled into my blood pooling in front of me.
Lucky seven. Great.

WILMA

“Dude. What’s up with the dice chillin’ in the pear bowl?” A bowl with green pears and large, orange, fuzzy dice was sitting on the table. Jeremy eyed the dice and rolled his eyes. “My roommate is nuts. I don’t understand anything he does.”
“Nuts or not, dice with pears rolls past crazy into insanely weird.”
Jeremy found it increasingly difficult to explain the orange dice lounging about the house, considering he barely understood why they were here. They just appeared one night speaking heavily accented English telling him they had an experiment on terra and they must stay here.

GUY DAVID

The door of the car opened silently and closed without notice. The fuzzy dice below the rear-view mirror swayed slightly as the wheels started turning. The car moved slowly down the road, driver unaware of his hidden passenger. The hidden passenger couldn’t see the road where he was, so he listened carefully, savoring each sound. They reached Atlanta by noon, and the Hyatt Regency Atlanta in the afternoon, where Chaketo Chirapa slipped out of the car and into the building, where he made sure no-one was watching before he took off his cloaking device. He was at DragonCon.

ANIMA

Asphalt is consumed by my Galaxie 427, the miles marked by hypnotic dashes flying by.
Fuzzy dice hang from the rearview mirror of my mind, bouncing with every bump in the road… a glance into that mirror reflects a panoply of awards and indiscretions. There’s only one answer: step on the accelerator.
A prickling of neck hairs brings my attention to the road again.
Headlights blind me, I hold steady, muttering anathema.
One final, hard jounce and it’s fresh pavement.
How long will it last?
No telling, but I enjoy it for the moment, and bear down on the accelerator.

Comeoncomeoncomeon
Stupid Neon won’t start again. Lemme try once more…
I’m gonna be late and I’ve already missed the bus.
Comeoncomeoncomeon
I shouldn’t… Strange things happen when I do…
But once Geoff entertained the thought, he was possessed.
Reaching over, he popped the glove box and took out the fuzzy dice.
The final act was to hang them on the rear view mirror.
This time when he turned the key– there was no anemic 4 cylinder chug,
It was the throaty rumble of a 58 Fury V-8, toreador red, iceberg white.
Lighting a Lucky Strikes, Geoff growled, “Let’s roll, baby”.

BRAD Z

Over here you will see a relic that was recently recovered during the dig. Although we are not sure what the exact purpose of this device was. It is my belief that it was a communications device. You can see each side of the cube has a series of dots on it, ranging from one to six dots. The artifact was suspended in between the occupants seats from a reflection device. Clearly it had something to do with video conferencing. However, some of my colleges seem to think this was merely an item of decoration, hence the fuzziness. What rubbish.

CALEB

My first job in College, working at Wal-Mart was tough. In the afternoons you get a lot of young housewives coming in just for adventure. One lady said she wanted to rub my fuzzy dice and then yelled at me when I took her to the automotive section. Another one said she wanted to put my kielbasa in her mouth and then got mad when I brought her to the butcher counter. Finally, I wised up and when a young woman came in saying she really needed a screw… I got fired for not taking her to the hardware section!

MORTICIAN

It was two in the morning and we both still had a good buzz from the liquor, so I knew I was getting some action tonight. The foreplay was brief as she was as ready for this chance encounter as I.
Maneuvering myself on top of her I began with the first penetrating thrust to bring us to ecstasy. I thought I heard a giggle emanating from her but was sure it was my imagination. On the second and third thrust her laughing became so uncontrollable that I shrunk into oblivion.
Standing in the bathroom I looked down with the realization that it wasn’t such a good idea having my testicles replaced with two fuzzy dice.

PLANET X

The brochure claimed that |Waunakee was the Bigfoot capital of in the
nation.
All the stores carried every type of t-shirt, statue, or picture of the
mythical creature.
The museum even showed documentaries of actual sightings and had several
displays of how Bigfoot might look.
So, when, on a Wednesday afternoon, Bigfoot came calmly walking down the
main street, people stopped what they doing and stared at the beast not
believing what they saw.
As the crown stood there in awe, the only words spoken were Little Cindy
Lou’s
“Boy, look at the big set of Fuzzy Dice on him!”

ALMO

She reached from the passenger seat, wearing a sly smile and a halter top, each worn the way only 20-year-old girls can.
She cupped her hands and I felt suddenly warm. She turned in her seat and cradled them. She unbuckled the belt and leaned over them, brushing a fingernail over the light fuzz and then, surprisingly, blowing on them, the way you would at a Vegas crap table. I jumped when she nuzzled them and smiled.
The ride ended too soon. And when I opened her door I watched the fuzzy dice swing from the rear-view mirror.

EVA MOON

The phone rang.
“Now what?” thought Alma.
An incident at school. Could she come meet her son in the principal’s office right away?
Alma sighed. She had this fantasy of serving perfect gourmet meals to her smiling family around the dining room table. But whenever she started, there was some interruption. She reluctantly dumped the neatly diced cubes of carrots and onions into a Tupperware container and grabbed her car keys.
That was Monday. Tuesday night was dentist appointments. Wednesday, band practice. Thursday she worked late. Finally, on Friday she pulled out the Tupperware container and peered inside: fuzzy dice.

JEFFREY HITE

“Dice! Give me a set of dice.” I held out my hand, and felt the soft fuzz something he placed there.
“There you go sir.”
“What are these?” I asked staring at the two huge stuffed amalgams in my hand.
“A set of dice like you asked.”
“These aren’t dice, they’re, they’re toys I need some real dice” I screamed.
The minder stared at me piteously with his bright red eyes before responding, “Mr. Staley, you know that the price of your reanimation was that you could no longer gamble so these are they best i can do for you.”

SOUGENT

“I don’t know about this Eddie.”
“Scared, huh?”, Eddie said with a smile.
“After last time, wouldn’t you be?”
“What’s the matter? A little projectile vomiting never hurt anybody.”
“Why do I always get railroaded into being the guinea pig for your experiments?”
“Because you’re a masochist.”, he said with a smirk.
“Ok, what are you calling your concoction this time?”
“You’ve heard of the Fuzzy Navel? I call this the Fuzzy Dice.”
He pushes a glass toward me.
Reaching out cautiously, I pick up the drink, glance at Eddie and take
a sip of it.
“Oh no, not again”

LAIEANNA

“I want them to be exactly like this.”
“Do you really want them this boxy?”
“It’ll make me unique, and I need that.”
“It’s going to be tricky, but I can handle it. However, with more risk in something this radical, I’m going to need more money.”
“I scraped up enough. Work will help me make it back fast.”
“Say, look at that stripper! She has cube breasts.”
“That’s so hot! I wonder what they feel like.”
“Probably as soft as a plush toy.”
“Look, there’s a sign! Fifty dollars for a feel?”
“That’s so cheap!”
“Oh boy, I’m there!”

PLANET Z

Vegas was abandoned after the terrorists unleashed the mold.
It’s impossible to kill it all at once, so we extract a few tons of material a day, boil off the mold, and recycle it for Reno.
Gold leaf, ivory chairs, building steel, road concrete… most of all, the precious copper from the wiring.
Paper and plastic end up getting burned.
All those cards and dice, fuzzy and browned over – what a waste.
Every now and then, a looter in an environment suit goes after a painting or a statue.
Some survive to be arrested, but most die.
Another bad gamble.

Weekly Challenge #125 – Hurricane

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Planet Z, and we went with Hurricane.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

FRICKER FRACKER

Sand everywhere! What the… How’d I get on the beach?
What the hell is that! A TATTOO! Where’d that come from!
And who the heck is Juanita. I don’t even know a Juanita.
Last thing I remember I was sitting at the bar with my friends.
We ordered a round of shots. Well, a few rounds really.
And I washed them down with this local Island drink called “Los Huracán
Tormenta”.
Maybe that wasn’t such a good Idea…
Well at least I’m not naked and there is no Juanita around.
Time to catch my plane.
Excuse me sir, donde está el aeropuerto?
Fricker it’s me, Juanita!

WILMA

They pulled the white sheet taut across the window blocking her view. “Children, what are you doing?”
“Just playing a game.” Grandma chuckled and returned to mashing the potatoes.
Cyrus whispered, “Are you sure you said the words in the right rhythm?”
“Yes, ‘quick, quick, slow’ just like it said,” Ophelia assured him. Earlier that morning the children found a book titled Powerfully Protective Spells. One spell caught their eye: “Stopping Savage Storms.” As Ophelia nailed the sheet in place Cyrus hissed, “Here he comes.” Stumbling up the path with dragon red eyes was grandpa looking mean as a hurricane.

MORTICIAN

I’ve known I was magic for quite a long time now, I probably first noticed it when I was in grade school. I drew a normal picture of a clear sunny day and my mom posted it to the fridge. She left it up there for two whole months; in those two months our state had the worst drought it has ever seen. When my picture was thrown away the clouds began to gather and rain filled the sky once again.
Now my girlfriend is on a “business trip” with Steven in the gulf, yea, right. I think it’s time I start drawing again.

STEVEN

My roommate said he moved to Florida from Hurricane, West Virginia, though he
pronounced it Hurr-eh-cun and threatened to fight me over it.
“It’s where the hurricane names come from,” he told me. “One at a time, we
get sick. It’s alphabetical, but skips around. One year boys, the next
girls. As we get sicker, the storm gets worse.”
“But you live here now,” I said.
He shook his head. “The sickness follows us. It’s where you’re born that
counts.”
He went to bed early that night. The next day he had a fever, and clouds
massed on the horizon.

JEFFREY HITE

Today on NPR:
We have all heard of those new vacuum cleaners that claim to have the power of a tornado inside them. We all know that it is a simply and illusion, of spinning dust.
However, today in western Louisiana we found a man who has been trying for the last few years to build a better vacuum. Mr. Johnson has been trying to coax hurricanes into his shop so that he could capture their powerful forces and put it a vacuum cleaner. There has been some local outcry, so we got him on the phone.
“Mr. Johnson… Hello?”
My apologies to Steve Inskeep!

BRAD Z

Well see if you put you right hand here and your left hand there and push that there button then the grinding starts. You gotta get it all ground up for it to work. Ok now hit that other button. That gets the mixer going. Sure is a big one isn’t, and fast even. Fred says it gets up to around 70, thats about as fast as some of those hurricane winds that are popping up everywhere recently. The ingredients and everything comes next, then it’s pressed together. It cooks for a bit and after that, viola , Olive Loaf.

GUY

Bob and Harriet started out like a hurricane, but that was so long ago. Now they hardly spoke to each other. Bob silently hated her. He especially hated the fact she was making more then him, selling antiques at eBay, and her obsession with those darn podcasts. Her “Remnant of the Past” podcast about antiques was taking too much of her time. He hated those podcasts, but when she told him she was going to DragonCon, and she talked enthusiastically about Sigler, Hutchings and that Chirapa guy, he knew he would have to go and keep an eye on her.

JUSTIN

I spin and spin and spin. My arms crash through ocean and sea. Sometime they rage over the lands. I can never see where I am going, only where I have been. I would love to see cities and towns, full of people and their homes they have built. But I never see that. I can only see where I have been, the places where I have wrought pain. I only see landscapes ravaged by rain and wind, homes destroyed. It makes me sad to see the damage I’ve done. I don’t mind the trailer parks though, those are fun!

MIKE

You could tell he’d overstayed his welcome and that he’d been most inconsiderate of his Cuban hosts. Water dripped from every wall and streamed unhindered through doorways to nowhere; billboard invitations to drink Havana Club littered the landscape like giant postcards.
The hurricane’s signature moment, though, was created when a large tent broke loose in the wind and was draped over a nearby wall. The top hung well over the wall, flanked on each side by three smaller folds. A tourist’s snapshot of the rising sun directly behind the center flap formed an eerily familiar image. Yep – Gustav was here.

TOM

The rep for C&H crossed the field towards the deepest rows of sugar plants. They were amazing. Higher yield then anything on the Alexander & Baldwin lands. The man inquired who the land belonged to. This led to a cacophony of differing options in a number of Hawaiian dialects. In the end the best he got were fingers pointing to a distant house. Arriving at the lanai the C&H man met an elderly couple. “Are those your sugar plants?” he asked the husband. The old Hawaiian shook his head at the haole and said “No dem r her a cane.”

ANIMA

Get out, you piece of shit.
Out the door flew the flannel shirts and Levis, the greasy ball caps and cowboy boots
The Skynard cd’s, the Marlboro jean jacket.
I never want to see your skinny white ass here again
And I’m calling a lawyer.
Hope you’re happy with that bowling alley bimbo and her double D’s. You two deserve each other.
Guess I better find a new place to live…
And after I put so much work into our double wide.
How’s a hurricane and a redneck divorce similar?
Any way you look at it, someone’s losing a trailer.

PLANET Z

For the person who has everything, why not get them the fury of nature’s wicked wrath?
That’s right. Buy ’em a hurricane
You think they pull those names out a hat? Hell no.
Them radars and satellites and forecaster geeks cost money. Money I’ve got to burn.
Listen… listen to that crap… this Kanye West say that Bush hates black people.
I dunno about Bush, but my daughter Katrina hates em somethin fierce.
Watch the television, darlin. Look at ’em run around.
Happy birthday.
Money can’t buy you love? What a crock of shit.
This is priceless.

Weekly Challenge #124 – The Game Twister

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Fricker Fracker, and we went with The Game Twister.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

PLANET Z

She wanted to try something new, so we bought pajamas made out of Twister boards.
Colors all over.
We can’t spin the spinner ourselves, so we’ve programmed the computer to call out colors and hands and feet.
We take turns, putting this on that, that on this, and so on.
No matter how much we try, it’s hard to stay at it for long before tearing these jammies off.
One night, she had too much to drink. Right Foot On Red became Kick To The Crotch.
We don’t play that game anymore.
Don’t Break The Ice? Yeah… pass the icepack.

CeNedra

“It was really nice of your mom to lend you her car” I told him as we sat in the back seat in the dark.
Did he just put his right hand there?
“I thought the dance was nice, great music too” I said, trying not to sound nervous.
Did he just put his left hand down there?
Words escaped me as his mouth covered mine.
He leaned against me and I felt myself fall back onto the leather seat.
This is really going to happen, I thought to myself, as he lifted my leg and put it up there.

HOLLI

It was their first date. She could taste his smell on her lips, but she was strong. Good girls don’t let boys win so quickly. Right?
He wanted to walk her to her door, what should she do? Let him in? Just give in?
She was helpless, but after offering him a drink, she said “Let’s play a game of Twister, it is just like riding a bike.” He smiled at her. His eyes wild and piercing, tight jeans, loose shirt.
Spin, Left Arm Blue, Spin, Right Foot Red, Spin, Spin, Spin, his smell intoxicated her. Spinning they fell to the ground.
Who is the winner now?

STEVEN

The battle raged on before me, the virtual limbs of my fleet
stretching out between star systems. The VR suit carried my body’s
commands to the drones slaughtering the enemy. Color-coded
representations of star systems swam before my eyes. The drones had
an advanced AI, capable of immediate battle tactics. But they were
not smart enough for strategy. They could not see the grand picture
and win the war.
I saw the opening in the enemy’s defenses. I gathered the fleet,
twisted uncomfortably, and used my right hand to smash them all into
the red dot of the enemy’s homeworld.

JUSTIN

Murphy’s wheelchair was parked in front of a plastic pad. The man in the dark suit engaged the breaks. The pad was a four by six grid of colored circles. The man in the dark suit spoke.
“You will play this game for your life. I will spin this dial fifty times. If you fail to follow the instructions three times, you will lose the game. This dial will give you a certain arm or foot, and a color. You must place that appendage on that color of circle to pass.”
Murphy’s face drained to white. “But, I’m color blind!”

GUY DAVID

Chaketo Chirapa was feeling like he’s caught in some bad twister move, unable to advance forward. That Human game, involving colored circles and strange moves held a strange fascination for him. It was like the problem of earning the trust of The Humans, strict rules but no logic. He was listening to Sigler and Hutchins bitching about not winning The Parsec Awards again, when it dawned on him all of a sudden. There was one place he could go where he would walk around as he is, and no one would suspect he’s an alien. He started packing for DragonCon.

JEFFREY

“So he took everything?” The police officer said suspiciously, “While you all just stood there and watched?”
“Look you are not understanding me. Let me explain it again. He came in with a gun and a twister.”
“A what?”
“Twister, you know, the game you play on the floor? He made us play twister until we were so tangled up there was no way we could do anything but watch.”
“And that’s when he took all your stuff?”
“Yes!”
“While you just watched?”
So we made him and the two deputies play, while we cruised around in their patrol car.

TOM

Captain Aloysius Lilius Bradley created a primitive but recognizable version of the game Twister. Bradley used sailcloth and a vulcanizing agent of unknown origin. It would had been lost to the ages if Milton Bradley hadn’t discover a chest with remains of the cloth and a parchment containing the rules. Given that Aloysius’ game include knives, axes, swords, rungus, coshes, knobkieries, Milton never fully developed the game as we know it today and only left notes on how to make the game less extreme. Students at Rice are now running a tournament with the missing pieces. Kevlar encouraged but optional.

FRICKER

As Young Kwai Chang Caine was about to endure the final step to Shaolin Priesthood, Master Po gave these words of caution.
The burning scars of the Dragon and of the Tiger on your forearms show you inner strength. And the pristine path of the traversed rice paper shows your control and compassion. But this final test will be you’re most difficult and most deadly.
You must call upon your entire training young grasshopper, the snake, the mantis, the white Crane and all of nature. You must show great speed and agility to continue from this point on.
Left foot blue…

SOUGENT

Nothing like a little picnic to celebrate Labor Day. The kids
running around playing Frisbee, George is over there playing Twister
with the Olsen twins. Cousin Frank has got chicken cookin’ on the
barbecue, slopping on his “secret” sauce.
Time to close my eyes for a little nap….
What the hell? What’s that yellin’ all about? What do you mean the
BBQ chicken is on a rampage? Zombie chicken you say? Dripping BBQ
sauce?
You’re sure a joker George, that’s a good one. What? How did I get
BBQ sauce on my shirt? Look up? Why should I look up?

CALEB

Auntie Em! It’s a twister!
Those were the last words Dorothy Gale ever spoke. She had run away at fourteen with a snake-oil salesman named Professor Marvel. He turned her out in Kansas City. When she appeared on the farm again years later, her last remaining relation tried to get her clean. When the delirium tremens set in, she would dream she was in some magical land called oz. It was one of these fits that dropped her into the hog sty. As the beasts began devouring her trackmarked flesh, poor Uncle Henry shuffled into the house for his gun.

HOUSTON KEYS

Right foot red.
Jerry do I have to keep doing this?
YES! It’s in your contract! Now RIGHT FOOT RED.
OK.
Wade, watching the sweat make it’s long harrowing journey from the
nether-regions of your man boobs to your bellybutton has disturbed me
to the point of loss of concentration.
So I can quit?
What do you think Satan?
I guess, I was getting kind of bored anyway since he is the only one playing.
We could get Jerry Junior…
Stop it you sicko!
Heh, I guess. Wade go send in Pacman, tell him it’s time for his
“Community Service.”

ANIMA ZABALETA

*THE BIRTHDAY PARTY*
Mr Rex, please come pick up Tyra…
Tyra hadn’t meant to bite Edmon’s head off….
“You’ve ruined my birthday party”, whinged Maia.
Even Telma, the exchange from Romanian looked appalled.
It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t want to play that stupid game anyway;
she was too tall and ungainly…
Maia had gone on and on about how much fun it would be… so easy to play…
Left foot yellow….
Right foot blue….
Right. Hand. Red.
They all laughed and laughed when she tipped over, reaching with all her
might…
“If only the Cretaceous period would end”, Tyra mumbled to herself.

Weekly Challenge #123 – Rampaging Chickens

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Brad Z, and we went with Rampaging Chickens.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

FRICKER

It was the last time anyone saw the Colonel alive.
Oh the humanity, the injustice.
The red stained walls of the kitchen tell this story.
The scratch marks of poultry talons on the frame of the door show this struggle.
Broken and cracked… are the black rim glasses that once adorned his face.
They remain on the floor… spectacles of his past.
No one really knows what happen that fateless night.
But many say that if you sit quietly by the neon sign out front,
You can hear the call of the now free chickens that roam… the Kentucky hills.

MIKE LEE

Alexander surveyed the food shelf. “We’ve almost eaten everything”, he said. “I’ll have to go out and find some more rations.”
“But what if they’re still up there?” said Karen, looking mortified. “You’ll never make it!”
“We can’t survive without food”, said Alexander. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” And, with that, he climbed out through the trapdoor; closing it behind him.
Karen wondered if she would ever see Alexander again. She closed her eyes, and tried to remember what life had been like before the Revolution.
A single tear rolled down her face. It hadn’t always been like this.

MIKE

Lights came on in the farmhouse. Shotgun in hand, the man raced across the barnyard to the chicken coop, fearing the import of the frenzied squawking. Gun at the ready, he opened the door.
Feathers were everywhere, but the chickens were still upright. In the far corner, he spotted a bloody, furred lump. Amazed, he realized they’d actually killed a fox! Then he noticed a group of them advancing on him with grim purpose. A sudden flurry of wings heralded an even louder outburst of noise…
“I tell ya,” he declared, “it’s gotta be that new feed. ‘Nuther drumstick, dear?”

TOM

Tokyo was in peril. Again! One Hundred Foot Rampaging Chickens were making their way towards the Imperial Palace. Their claws tore the streets, wings shatter windows, beaks rented roofs. Machine guns, mortars, rockets and electrified fences all failed to slow the fowl’s perambulations. At the gate of the old palace a lone samuritic figure meet the chicken’s gazes. A tremor of horror raced through the flock as they came toe to talon with the man in the white suit. He raised a single digit of his hand passed a white goatee to moistened lips.
“Finger Lickn Good.” Said the colonel.

JEFFREY

If she could just keep moving slowly and quietly she might have a chance of success.
“Chickie, Chickie, Chickie!” she screamed as she bolted forward.
The chickens were never in any danger, her arms out run did not stand a chance against a terrified chicken’s sprint.
Her body tensed to squeal her battle cry and run at them again, but she never made it. The hen attacked from the rear, pecking at an interesting flower on her dress. It only pecked once before quickly turning to run the other way.
The little girl whirled around, stomped her foot. “Bad chickie!”

JUSTIN

“They want their nuts back, Jed.”
“Aw pastrami, Ned, these are our nuts. They hide theirs in holes and stuff.”
“I really think they want them. There are some outside the windows!”
“What in salami is the matter with you, Ned? Squirrels ain’t gunna attack us.”
“I dunno Jed, they looked rightly mean into my eyes.”
“You’ve got smoked ham for brains, Ned!”
“Jed, they all coming fast, like on a rampage or something!”
“You are so full of corned beef, Ned. Them dang squirrlies are harmless!”
“They breakin’ through the windows! Git em off me Jed!”
“Oh, olive loaf!”

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Dusty air scraped its way into my throat while I ran. The scales
covering the herd’s bodies blended with the ground, except where blood
spattered around claw and tooth. They hunted in herds, using the
rough sandstone outcroppings as camouflage. It wasn’t fair.
The reverse scriptease experiment had worked too well. Too many genes
were reverted too far back. In two weeks our peaceful flock had
morphed into a 65 million year old ancestor. They were not prey, and
we were fit to be fried.
The rooster cawed through its dinosaur mouth. I ran faster, wondering
what I’d taste like.

SOUGENT

The heat was unbearable, soon his little chipmunk ass would be
barbecued for sure.
He tries screaming for mercy but there’s no response from his cruel
captors, just laughter.
Suddenly he hears a commotion and screams coming from outside the hot,
dark place he was in.
Abruptly, he is out, the bright sunlight blinding him but he is able
to just make out a scene of carnage and mayhem, as if something had
gone on a murderous rampage.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he thought for a moment he saw
chickens…. hundreds of chickens, all covered in blood.

ANIMA

Ever see a homeschool football game?
I play for the Rampaging Chickens.
We ain’t so good.
Our quarterback won’t make eye contact.
Most of us play piano better than pass the ball,
and the cheerleader’s skirts barely clear their ankles.
Our name totally gives away our playbook–
We play an offensive game, consisting of huddling together and taunting the other team.
After the snap, we scatter, staring intently at the ground. On occasion, someone catches the ball; then it’s a mad dash for the end zone.
Amazingly, we are leading the league! beating our rivals, the Gesticulating Limpets.
Go Chickens!

GUY DAVID

The chef was furious. His apprentice was using way too much salt. “Out” he screamed at the top of his voice, so loudly that he brought in the owner. Yev Kassem picked in. “Can you try to keep it down?” he asked. “Sorry, have to keep my apprentice sharp” said the chef. “You are the artist” answered Yev and exited the kitchen. The chef turned back to his apprentice intent on continuing his screaming spree, maybe even firing him, when he was run over by a horde of rampaging chickens. “No soup for you” came in the voice of Yev.

BRAD Z

Reporting live from the Channel 3’s eye in the sky mobile helicopter. From here I have a clear view of the city, the devastation caused by the rampage is unbelievable. At least 8 square blocks have been utterly destroyed. The military has surrounded the city in hopes of keeping the chickens contained. Reports estimate the death toll in the thousands. Something is happening; the military chatter has picked up quite a bit now. We are going to zoom the camera in for a .…oh my god! They are starting to fly! They’re coming straight for us, Fred get us…….

THOMAS

There was nothing I could do but sit back and watch. Hundreds of chickens passed in front of me. Unbelievable. Every size, shape, and description of the domesticated bird paraded before me. One wearing a lavender ballet tutu, pirouetted before me, then disappeared. Another with a large fruit covered headdress, cha-cha’d it’s way over to me, blew me a kiss and also disappeared. A third was carrying a KFC bucket, eating a drumstick, and staring. He flipped me off, and then he, too, was gone. Waking me up, my dentist asked me how I liked his new anesthetic. Just… wow!!!

DAPHNE

Mike sat there trying to figure out where his day went wrong. The morning presentations rehearsal went well. His team broke for lunch before the presentation to the Board. They went to a local Chinese restaurant. He got the special spicy chicken dish. It was really good, spicy and flavorful. 1 hour into the presentation something was wrong. He excused himself, got up and started to walk quickly. His walk turned into a sprint, he barely got the door closed and his belt undone in time. A ½ hour later, he knew why it was called Rampaging Chicken, as he did another courtesy flush.

LAIEANNA

The Priestess had spoken fast with a thick accent so Billy’s scribbled notes were unclean. Now he couldn’t really read them. He still tried, throwing in what he guessed were the correct ingredients. The circle of power was drawn and five chickens were beheaded though he may have over done it with the count. Three mumbled words and the chicken bodies went wild, violently crashing into everything in the room. The severed heads screamed in anger. Billy scratched his head and squinted at his notes again. It dawned on him. He forgot a human body, necessary for a revenge zombie.

PLANET Z

Agent Starling. A pleasure to see you again.
Well, Clarice – have the chickens stopped rampaging?
I remember you telling me… when you saw them… feathers… beaks.. you ran away as fast as you could… where did you go… what restaurant was it… ah… yes…
McDonalds. The Golden Arches.
What did you order… a hamburger? No, too plain, even for you, one generation from poor white trash.
Fries? An apple pie? No, not you.
The number five. Orange soda.
And ten chicken nuggets.
What did you dip them in? Sweet and sour? Barbecue?
Just plain ketchup.
Goodbye, Clarice.
And, Bon appetit.

Weekly Challenge #122 – Breaking and Entering

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Lunette, and we went with Green.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

BRAD Z

Ooooo let me in, let me in. It smells so good in here…where is it, over here, over here, it’s around here somewhere and I’ll find it. Hmm can you smell that, smells like….hamburger…I like hamburger… it’s coming from over here, behind this door….yep there’s hamburger behind this door, all I have to do is a little breaking and entering into hamburgerville….I bet I can get it open if I do this….then put a paw here…..ooo it’s open. They should just give this to me instead of throwing it away, nom nom nom

FRICKER

The other day I broke into my boss’ computer only to find classified files regarding my work ethics and possible release.
Right at that moment I came to one conclusion; murder.
I devised a plan with every detail covered. The next day, meeting scheduled, plan intact… all was in place.
He stepped casually through the door; with a solemn voice he said we need to talk.
This is going to be hard for me to say.
I thought to myself, you have no idea.
We had a security breach recently, and I need to promote you to Senior Security Advisor.
Yes! I love it when a plan comes together.

GUY DAVID

The Chirapa where entering a new stage in their stay on the planet of The Humans. The crowdedness and the lack of room underground, combined with the lack of sunlight and the fact that they couldn’t bring new Chirapa children into the world for lack of room was beginning to break them down. Chaketo Chirapa did his best to raise the spirit of his people as their leader. He knew this couldn’t last forever, and he was getting desperate. He decided the only answer was to actually meet The Humans somehow, but how could he do that without being discovered?

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The ground vibrates from the bombs. We huddle in the corner, my
children crying beneath me. Mother’s picture shakes from the wall and
shatters.
The blue of sky, the clean rocky mountains – all is obscured by the
dust and fire of the bombs. The chalk of collapsed buildings is on
our tongues. My children do not know why the men run with rifles, do
not understand the destruction.
Vehicles rumble down the street. I pray silently to the Virgin to
protect us. I pray harder than even when Josef died.
A hard boot strikes the door.
I close my eyes.

TOM

Max was a second story man. Windows and roofs were his modus operandus.
His working hour was 6:30 to 7:30. Max hated the street level trade, but
his wife’s sister’s son had to start on the ground floor. Arthur a bit
less that dim, but ever eager to please crept in the midnight shadows to
the front door. Max held the Phillsbee compression jack against the
doorknob. He motioned to young Arthur to take the hammer and strike the
end of the jack. Arthur looked back confused. Max whispered, “When I nod
my head you hit it with the hammer.”

JUSTIN

The green bean reaver ship passed us, not hunting. Soon we were at the station and I ordered the supplies needed to fix the turtle’s shell. When it was ready, I went to pick it up. There was a huge pile of orange vegetables in the hanger. I shouted at the supplier over my radio.
“Keratin, not carrot tons!!”
Life will be much easier when it is back to normal. It’s been weird ever since the Short Order Terrorists broke into Reality Headquarters then installed a virus into the reality generators that merged the Food Network into the entire universe.

ANIMA

I am a compulsive B and E artist… It usually leads to murder.
I learned from the hand of my mother. She taught me at the tender age of seven,
and by eleven, I was doing the job alone. Occasionally, I’d bring her my results.
At times I managed to quell my urges. When I was 15, I quit cold turkey;
I didn’t hardly miss the lifestyle. But by college, I had returned to my old ways.
Now, I limit myself to once a week. Old age slows a body down.
Today is going to be one of them days.

ALMO

So close, I could smell it.
It was stronger than the scent of the freshly mowed grass, more potent than the honeysuckle that climbed the fence.
I had no choice. I followed the trail.
Maybe the Parkers were home. I hoped they weren’t. I hoped the cat wasn’t sleeping where I was going. Their porch window is always cracked open. You can get in if you wriggle enough, and I did.
Technically, I guess, it’s breaking and entering. But I couldn’t stop.
I scratched at a flea with my hind leg, woofed, and saw the Grail, the bowl of Whiskas!

EVA

“There is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in.” — Leonard Cohen
I’ve spent nearly my whole life keeping up the façade: Perfect woman, perfect family, perfect life. Terrified to reveal the truth. I’d be shunned, despised, ridiculed.
Of course you can’t keep it up forever. The first cracks are tiny, almost invisible. But they spread and before you know it, your life is a network of shards held together by fear.
Now that it’s all broken in pieces at my feet, I don’t know why I resisted so long. The darkness has gone, replaced by brilliant light.

SOUGENT

“Are you ready?”, asks a voice from behind him. “You need to get in
there, there’s not much time”.
“And don’t screw up”, came a rough voice from the corner.
He mutters in agreement, picks up the saw and begins cutting.
After this job was finished, he’d have enough money to occupy his time
with a few well oiled super models on the beaches of Cancun.
Suddenly blood spurts out, splattering his green surgical scrubs.
He looks down at the open chest of the injured mob boss as the man in
the corner points a revolver at his head.

MIKE

Evening has come; she begins her search for food. She needs blood for her developing eggs. Chemical sensors alert her to nearby prey and she veers toward the source. Motion and heat sensors confirm the target. She selects a suitable spot and lands almost unnoticed.
Her proboscis is sharper than a needle, capable of breaking through the toughest skin. Upon entering the wound, proteins in her saliva will inhibit clotting, allowing her to feed. It will also transmit a deadly microorganism. This human has killed hundreds of her kin; now, it will pay. She bends down and –
SMACK!
“Darn mosquitoes!”

PLANET Z

“Did you bring it?” he asks. What little I can see under his hood convinces me to look away.
I nod. “Fifteen million dollars,” I say.
I slide the briefcase across the table.
He reaches for it, the hand is scarred and blackened, missing two fingers.
The other hand reaches into a sack at his side.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say.
The Devil’s Pitchfork falls to the table with a clatter.
I can’t help but stare.
“How did you get it?” I ask, but the man is gone.
A whiff of brimstone and laughter.

Weekly Challenge #121 – Green

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-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 selected by Lunette, and we went with Green.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

GUY

It was green, wet and wrinkled. Quansity stared at it with disgust. “What is it?” he asked. “It’s Human food” answered Ginswey knowingly, “it’s called a pickle.” Quansity continued staring at the dripping green thing on the green dining table. “You mean, they eat that staff?” he asked, horrified. “Yes, and quiet eagerly too” answered Ginswey, “but that’s not the worst thing those barbarians eat.” Quansity held his breath and started looking a little green himself. “You mean… there’s worst?” he asked, astonished. “Yes,” said Ginsway, “there is this thing called olive loaf. It’s very popular, or so I’m told.”

TOM

Arthur Andersen is surely about the green but it’s not about it we speak. Our Arthur Andersen was the voice of Lucky the Leprechaun of that other corporate giant General Mills, a role he played from 1963 to 1992. When asked of the benefits of being a shill for a sugar coated breakfast ravedust Mr. Anderson said “I never got free cereal, but they gave me lots of green money.” The other long running role Mr. Anderson played was the 1937 Broadway production of Julius Caesar. He was one of the original Mercury Theatre Players and its last surviving member.

THOMAS

Damn green, tree-hugging, sandal-wearing hippies… trying to force their communistic environmental agenda upon society. Green food, green cars, green soap, green clothes, green mercury filled light bulbs. Heck, we can’t even use lead sinkers to go fishing!
The only thing remotely green I want to be associated with is Saint Patrick’s Day beer, lime Jello shots, good Hawaiian weed, and two week old olive loaf aging in the fridge.
Someday, in an ideal world, I’d be able to pick up my number twelve size shoe, out of my number twelve size carbon footprint, and shove it up their green asses.

STEVEN

I miss her emerald eyes.
The upload process transferred personalities perfectly. Old
recordings of her voice informed the synthesizer; her new body was
sculpted after scans of twenty year old photos.
The eyes were never quite the same, always left somewhere in the uncanny valley.
“It will be me, Howard.” She had known my feelings, but her fatal
virus had left us no choice.
She walks through the door in her new, engineered body. She moves
like my wife, says my name like my wife.
Her flat matte green eyes gaze at me.
I shudder, and leave it there, alone.

MICHELLE

Volvo, S40 T-5.
Five speed manual transmission.
This is where I sit, every day. Looking, wondering, waiting and wanting. An open road with no speed limits, heaven. He looks at me with brown eyes sparkling to a fine gloss. I know what he wants. He has the need, the need for speed. I want to give this luscious creature all he desires and more. We sit, wait, open the doors, and exit the vehicle.
I give him a mournful pet behind the ears. “Don’t worry Fido, one day mother will give us the green light to drive it, one day.”

JEFFREY

This is about having your destiny cut short. I was all ready to take command. The CEO was obsessed with the GT-LATS take over, and his new Bride. I was about to show that he was unfit to run the company, when he showed up.
“Mister. Rugan. You’ve a guest out here.” Miss Green said over the intercom. Did I mention that this is all her fault?
“I”m busy.”
“He says he is here on a family matter. He’s very insistent.”
“Send him in.” In walked the man that took it away from me.
“Hello, my name is Montoya,”

BRAD

Fred
It had been a long harsh winter but Fred had managed to survive it. However, he had noticed, that quite a few of his siblings had not survived the winter. But that’s why mom had so many kids. Just the way things go, she had said when he was very young.
Fred’s body illuminated as he took to the sky in search of at mate who’s glow would match his.
Someone special, those two over there, they sure are bright, yes, they would do…Fred made his move towards them.
Ewwww, there’s glowing green bug slime all over the windshield!

JUSTIN

We made our way through the asteroid field. Using a modified food disposal unit, we made it through. On the other side, a ship came close. Scanning the ship made stark terror strike me. It was a Green Bean Reaver ship. These reavers are horrible creatures, no longer human, or vegetable. If they were hunting, they would attack. If not, they would pass by. The only course was straight on. If I ran, they would follow. When these reavers attack, they do horrible things, like make you eat rotten brussel sprouts, or spoiled canned peas. Let’s hope they aren’t hunting.

ANIMA

Daddy?
Umm, Sugar?
Can I steer for a bit?
No, baby, not until you’re 8, when you’re a mite bigger.
Oh-kay…
What can I do Daddy? I’m bored. We’ve been flying around for ages….
Why don’t you go play with Jeff in the hold?
Jeffy’s doing school work, he don’t want to play
Doesn’t, sugar…
Well, since we’re out here in the toulies… Would you like to blast something? Come over here, then…aim the laser cannon… like so… see if you can hit that blue and green planet…
That one?
Yep, keep it in the cross hairs, then push the button…

MIKE

“You are certain this will work?” the ship’s captain demanded to know.
“Of a surety, my lord. Observe,” said the chief medic, pointing. “The monitor’s display is coded by pigmentation – Ankarite on the left, Gatarrh on the right; the central image illustrates the merger.”
“Proceed!”
Sequencers came online. Both subjects became translucent, then faded completely.
As the melded being began to form, dreams of engineered Orion slavegirls and huge profits danced in the captain’s head.
They died almost as quickly as the medic and his pinkish, hairless and completely useless creation.
“‘Yellow and blue make green'” – pah!” he spat, disgusted.

PLANET Z

Hi ho, Kermit the Frog here with an important message.
Sure, it’s not easy being green, but it’s also not easy having your legs cut off, battered, and deep fried by some fucking Cajun.
This is why I am a proud member of the Animals For The Unethical Treatment Of Humans.
Every time I hear a new story about a Pit Bull mauling its owner or some jackoff Australian getting killed by a string ray, I think “Way to go, animals!”
Mmmmm… it’s time for dinner. BLT.
Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. but she was such a stage hog.

Weekly Challenge #120 – Olive Loaf

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty, 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 selected by Planet Z, and we went with Olive Loaf.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

Hi Laurence
I started a page on Squidoo about flash fiction and wanted to invite and of your contributors to send me one written story (up to 200 words) that I will add to the page and each will have their name and a link back to their site. It is a good way to get a backlink ..
if you think it’s something you want to do please announce it on your Sat broadcast. I’ll accept the first 25 stories I get. they can be mailed to info@theopensite.com with something in the subject alerting me to what it is.
I will also be making a spot available on my blog for the stories and links to be published again and there is no requirement for anyone to link to me or the squidoo page, though of course I won’t discourage anyone from doing so.
Thanks a Bunch
Craig

MENUBAR

“The mailman didn’t come again today,” she said “I doubt there will ever be mail again.”
“We’re just going to have to make due with what we have, Jane. You know we’ve always done okay for ourselves.”
“I miss the children, Frank. Do you think they’re alright?”
“If I know Jimmy, he’s with his friends having a hell of a time. He was a born leader, Jimmy was.”
“Yes, he always put Mary in her place, even though she was bigger. What do you think Mary is doing right now, Frank?”
“Mary sure loved her olive loaf.”
“I remember.”

BLUESMOKE

The food supply was beginning to run quite low. The horde of Kaprualy The Chirapa had brought with them from their home planet have been dwindling steadily and the vegetation was to tired from the artificial lighting to grow properly. They could survive on Kaprualy meat loaf with blue Taranka Sarka olives for just that long. They needed to sample some of the local cuisine, and they needed to do this as soon as possible. Chaketo Chirapa knew they would need to earn the trust of the humans quickly, so he continued podcasting while searching the web for an answer.

ELISSON

Every so often, I like to survey the deli counter, looking for disturbing meats. Scary meats.
Headcheese, for instance. No cheese, but plenty of head, chunks floating in a sea of gelatinous goop. I wouldn’t eat it on a dare.
Or mortadella. Sounds like Morticia’s older sister. Looks like sliced cellulite. Ecch.
The most disturbing of all? Gotta be Olive Loaf.
The name’s bad enough, like something Popeye’s girlfriend might drop off at the pool. All those embedded olives, sliced in cross-section, staring out of the meat case like evil eyes? It’s the lunchmeat that looks at you.
Scary, man.

MIKE

“Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?” asked the skycop.
“Not really,” I replied, trying to focus on the holoimage.
“You changed navigation corridors twice without updating your flight plan and exceeded the posted Mach limit. Have you been drinking, sir?”
“No!” I exclaimed. “Look, I overslept and was running late, so I hit the FoodMat for an InstaMeal pellet, then jumped the skyway. I may have …drifted.”
“Which meal?” he asked.
“One with a weird name: A Olive Loaf.”
“‘A’ indicates the meal contains alcohol, ‘OLIVE’ indicates a martini. Disengage your hoverdrive, sir; I’m tractoring you in.”

KEEME

Three years inside and all I ever got to eat was damned Olive loaf on stale bread. Funny how something you once loved can turn against you. Its not like I actually killed her, this time. At home we were welcomed by my dear sweet mother-in-law, sitting in my favorite chair sans right arm, sewing with her left. Hi Millie. Hello prison bitch hope you’re hungry. I quickly made my way to the kitchen to avoid her lovely improvement advice. In the fridge were over 100 packages of Olive Loaf. Sure hope she can knit with her teeth.Three years inside and all I ever got to eat was damned Olive loaf on stale bread. Funny how something you once loved can turn against you. Its not like I actually killed her, this time. At home we were welcomed by my dear sweet mother-in-law, sitting in my favorite chair sans right arm, sewing with her left. Hi Millie. Hello prison bitch hope you’re hungry. I quickly made my way to the kitchen to avoid her lovely improvement advice. In the fridge were over 100 packages of Olive Loaf. Sure hope she can knit with her teeth.

BRAD Z

Becoming a homeless being is the best way to observe anything in the universe. I have been observing the Earth this way for two cycles now.
Yesterday the Supreme Commander wanted to assisted me on an observation.
After five hours the Supreme Commander started getting hungry. We had no local currency to spend so we went to something called a soup kitchen. They had an excellent beef stew. Sadly, the olive loaf bread, killed the Supreme Commander.
Maybe the next planet will be safe for our kind.
Oh well, commence destruction of the Earth in five….four….three..two..one

EVA MOON

Bill leaned forward in his chair, trying to focus on the PowerPoint presentation, but the charts, graphs and bulleted lists blurred as if obscured by billowing clouds of flour.
The monolithic high-tech empire he’d built meant nothing to him. Secretly, he’d always wanted to be a baker – knead dough in his hands; make crust instead of code.
Nobody knew.
Graphs morphed into racks of hot baguettes. Pie charts turned into, well, pies. Even bullets on lists made him dream of olives dotting a fragrant loaf.
He stood up and walked out as they watched him go, openmouthed.
Nobody knew.

TOM

“Olive Loaf is the Twinkie of lunch meats,” descried Armond. “You want the muse to prevail or not?” repeated the shaman. Armond was desperate he had written a word in weeks which is why he dialed Shaman’s R Us. Mumbo Jumbo set the deli cutter to paper thin slices. He draped Armond’s face with Olive Loaf and told him to lie perfectly still and dream of his muse. In the morning the ER doctor finish the 40th stitch on Armond’s face. No midnight muse just one hunger cat with teeth and claws and a mean craving for cold cuts. Nardo!!!

JEFFREY

We tried everything. The Nukes didn’t touch them. The Chemical weapons, well they were a waste of time considering those suits they wear. But we tried them anyway and it killed half of us in the attempt. Then we tried talking to them. They liked that, but then they found out that we put olives in bologna, they decided we weren’t worth the effort. Since then the few of us that could escape the planet have been on the run. Who would have thought olive loaf would doom the planet, not the green house effect. Al Gore, raspberries to you.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The streets were as alive as downtown Marysville ever got. Jonah
watched them eat funnelcakes, scream on cheap rides, and play the
carnival games. The annual Olive Loaf Festival had not changed a bit.
He remembered trying to explain it to Mary before he came home.
“Small towns, they find something – anything – they can call their
own. Some reason to feel special.”
Her raised eyebrow had spoken volumes of sarcasm.
Back there he had been a nobody. Now, the festival crowd laughed and
swirled around him. Jonah held his picture of Mary and danced down
the street with them, smiling.

ALMO

I was mixing the ground meat to put into the loaf pan while Jimmy hovered over my shoulder.
“Mmmmfff?” he asked.
I snapped back, “What?”
“What are you doing?” he asked, his breath smelling like citrus, lips smacking irritatingly.
“Making something flashy for Christmas dinner,” I retorted, searching for the stuffing. “Where the hell are the red and green Jujubes?”
“Oops,” Jimmy said, swallowing hard.
I looked at him incredulously. “What am I going to do now?”
Jimmy pulled the olives from the shelf. “Here,” he said, “Red and green.”
Dumbfounded I asked, “Who on earth would eat olive loaf?”

JUSTIN

I ride through space on the back of an intergalactic and extraordinary space turtle. The turtle’s shell was cracked in a recent encounter with a group of thugs from the Macaroni Space Pirate League. The worst part is, after we disposed of the thugs in a nebula inhabited by the Cheese Mafia, to get to a planet with the supplies to repair the shell, first we’d have to pass through an asteroid belt. With an already damaged shell, this could be deadly. Worse was the fact that the asteroids were not made of rock and ore, but of olive loaf.

ANIMA

I can’t believe I trusted my brother (a butcher) when he invited me to “THE LOAF”…
I shoulda been paying attention, but I was already schussing through the alpine glades of the ski resort Sugarloaf in my mind.
I bought goggles, researched skis to demo… Hell, I even worked out at the gym…
Imagine my surprise as we buzzed past the exit…
Whoa Dave! – ya missed it!
Huh? Wha…? Sugarloaf??
Nah man, we’re headed to OLIVE LOAF… Best hamn deli convention on the east coast!
Oh well.
What I missed in moguls, I made up for with pastrami on rye….

PLANET Z

I, Baron Munchausen, do declare this latest adventure to be an unmitigated disaster.
Instead of banquets and parades, I find myself destitute and without my usual companions.
Even Bucephalus, my loyal steed, had run off to greener pastures.
You see, I was given a challenge by Catherine the Great, who’s hand in marriage I had the honor to refuse, to sail the oceans of wine to find islands of Gold and Silver cheese.
Instead, we found… Olive Loaf.
Not gold. Not Silver.
Plain Olive Loaf.
“At least it is not head cheese,” I said.
Catherine nodded, and ordered me beheaded.

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #129?
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Nika from http://diamondrust.mypodcast.com
	Philip
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Mike
	Almo
	Eva from http://evamoon.net
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Fricker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com
	Planet X from http://planetxpodcast.com
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	(Wilma)
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

What stories do you think were the best of Weekly Challenge #128?
	Guy David from http;//guydavid.com
	Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Steven the Nuclear Man from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com/
	Brad Z from http://mutecow.net/
	Wilma
	Laieanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com/
	Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Mike
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories from Weekly Challenge #127?
	Brad Z fromhttp://mutecow.net
	Mike
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Justin http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Patti
	Anima http://zabbadabba.com
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Sougent http://sladventures.sougent.com
	Cenedra from http://censtwocents.blogspot.com/
	Daphne http://www.daphneabernathy.com
	Wilma
	Laeianna http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com
	Thomas
	Steven the Nuclear Man from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #126?
	Wilma
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Guy David from Night Guy
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Brad Z from http://mutecow.net
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
	Mortician
	Planet X from http://planetxpodcast.com
	Almo from http://www.facebook.com/people/Almo_Schumann/1058528575
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net
	Jeffrey Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com
	Sougent from http://sladvofsougent.blogspot.com/
	Laeanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories from Weekly Challenge #125?
	Fricker Fracker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com
	Wilma
	Mortician
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Jeffrey from Http://greathites.blogspot.com
	Brad Z from http://mutecow.net
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Mike
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Anima from http://www.zabbadabba.com
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #124?
	Planet Z
	Cenedra from http://censtwocents.blogspot.com/
	Holli from http://hollihollwood.wordpress.com/
	Steven from http://ideatrash.blogspot.com
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Fricker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com/
	Sougent from http://sladvofsougent.blogspot.com/
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
	Houston Keys from http://tatertotsforthemasses.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #123?
	Fricker from http://frickerfracker.blogspot.com
	Mike Lee from http://www.themegajuke.co.uk
	Mike
	Tom
	Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Steven the Nuclear Man from http://www.ideatrash.com
	Sougent from http://sladvofsougent.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Brad Z from http://mutecow.net
	Thomas
	Daphne from http://daphneabernathy.com
	Laieanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #122?
	Brad from http://mutecow.net
	Fricker from http://www.frickerfraker.blogspot.com/
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com
	Steven points to War In South Ossetia
	Tom
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Anima from http://.zabbadabba.com
	Almo
	Eva from http://evamoon.net
	Sougent
	Mike
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #121?
	Guy David of Guy David
	Tom from Footnote
	Thomas Merkel
	Steven the Nuclear Man
	Michelle from Different World
	Anima Zabaleta from zabbadabba.com
	Jeffrey Hite of The Great Hites
	Brad Z from Twitter
	Justin the Space Turtle
	Mike
	Planet Z

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Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #120?
	Menubar Memorial
	Guy David from Sixteenth
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Mike
	Keeme from Diamonds and Rust
	Brad Z
	Eva Moon of The Lunatics
	Tom from Footnote
	Jeffrey from Great Hites
	Steven the Nuclear Man
	Almo
	Justin the Space Turtle
	Anima Zabaleta from Z.D
	Planet Z

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