Category: Weekly Challenge

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s I saw it move!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	JRadimus
	Zachman
	Steven
	TJ
	Justin
	Norval Joe
	Anima
	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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JRadimus

My name is [DETAILS REDACTED] –a, USA. Six years ago, halfway through a White House tour, I really needed to take a leak. So, I snuck off to find a toilet. On my way back, there was a man ahead of me, turning a corner. When I got there, it looked like a dead end – but I saw a panel closing, and a glimpse of a room behind it. There were Leprechauns on computers! Another man saw me, and the look on my face, and it all hit the fan. Before we knew, we were in [DETAILS REDATED] –shire, England.

Zachman

This happened to me when I live in the United States, before we moved to California and worked in Fargo. No, I don’t think I ever met TJ. Soon after I purchased a brand new 8 year old Mercury Sable wagon, one of my coworkers asked your not in you car? I just saw it move. I go outside. My boss telling me that my car just rolled into a lawyer’s car. I must have parked on the only incline in Fargo. So glad it was his winter beater and my insurance paid for his repairs. Always set parking brake.

Steven

It’s not my fault. I didn’t do my schoolwork because Tommy McDonald
kept flicking my neck with his pencil. Then the teacher yelled at me
when I told him to stop.
And I didn’t put the monster in my closet.
I crawled into bed next to Mom. She didn’t wake up until Dad started
yelling again. He said I was too old to be scared of monsters, and
smacked me around for crying.
Mom didn’t say anything. She didn’t stop him.
Before I left their room, their closet door opened. A big fanged
mouth smiled at me.
I smiled back.

TJ

“Well?”
Carl had delivered about half his mail for the day. The rest was for Jeff, the IT guy on this floor. Jeff seemed to be lost in space, earbuds jammed into his ears.
Naturally Jeff ordered most of the packages. And while his workstation was arranged such that he could easily see Carl or anyone approaching from across the room, he was so engrossed …
“Hey!”
No response.
“Jeff!”
Nothing.
Carl yanked an earbud from Jeff’s ear.
Last thing he or anyone there heard was the tiny earbud speaker repeating “Don’t kill … don’t kill … don’t kill …”

Justin

Jason slipped alone into the bed. Sleeping alone was normal, but he got the bed, not the couch, because his wife was away for three days at the voodoo conference. He’d enjoy his last peaceful night.
He awoke running his fingers through his wife’s hair. His eyes flew open with realization. He looked down his arm and saw a thick mass of blond hair. He cringed. His wife always left loose strands around the house.He’d clean house tomorrow.
He screamed as the hair crawled up his arm. The screams turned to a gurgle as they tightened around his neck.

Norval Joe

The youths hid beneath the bushes and peered across the lawn.
“I can’t see leaveing something like that laying around in plain site,” Olef shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”
“Maybe, but I’ve heard those statues have magical abilities. One in the garden makes the plants grow better.”
“Give me a break Sven, I don’t think it’s a statue at all. Look, I just saw it move.”
“It can’t move, Olef. It’s just painted plastic.”
“Well, they should’ve painted more clothes on it. It’s nearly naked. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
They put on their pointed red caps and crawled away.

Anima

“What is it, Billy?”
“HURRY! I saw it move!”
(entering the dark room, mom clicks on the light)
“What did you see Billy?”
“Over there in the corner – I saw it move!”
“Easy now, champ, that’s nothing but your clothes from yesterday.”
(mom leans down and opens a trap door near the bed. a tentacle reaches out, wrapping itself around the bed post. mom delivers 50,000 volts from a pink taser; the tentacle retracts quickly. yelps of pain are heard.)
“But if you don’t cut out this nonsense son, I WILL release the monsters from under your bed.”

Planet Z

I saw it move.
The dragon in that painting blinked its eyes, curls of smoke rising from its snout.
Growling.
Then, that couple… the nice people you carried out of here, or what was left of them… he tried to eat them.
I screamed at it. I yelled for it to stop.
It didn’t.
I tried to pull them away. It knocked me down with a wing.
Those poor, nice people. Spending an afternoon in the art museum, looking at paintings.
The dragon awakening. Attacking them.
No, it’s not moving now. Of course not.
It has fed, so it sleeps.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Choose!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Anima
	Mick
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Zachmann
	Steven
	Arri
	Ishtar
	Katharina
	Katharina
	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

Melly, don’t forget – State dinner tonight. I know how long it takes you to choose shoes.
She HAD forgotten…
What to wear? The blue dress, yes. It conveyed a sense of serenity and quiet elegance. Very important at formal functions. Francisco would do her hair and make up. Panic! Shoes! Surveying the closet shelves, she furrowed her brow. No, she simply could not bear to wear anything as old and outdated as what she saw here. Edualdo would need to make her something fresh and fantastic, double quick.
That settled, Imelda called in her assistants and started making arrangements.

Mick

“What’s it gonnae be, pal?”
“I desire something to eat. Can you recommend a dish?” Charles asked.
“There’s nae dishes here, bud. This is a chippy, not the bloody Ritz. We’re about to close, so it’s haggis or pizza. That’s yer lot.”
Charles took a moment to consider the limited choice.
“Pizza, please.”
The deep-fried pizza handed to him, wrapped in newspaper, bore no relation to the peasant fare he had once enjoyed in his youth. He sunk his teeth into the crispy disc, warm fat pouring down his chin, thrilled by the assault of flavours and textures.
“Good choice.”

Norval Joe

The mountain man stood knee deep in the powdery snow. The pass through the mountains was still another 3000 feet above him, and the day was rapidly reaching its end. He hated it when he had to make a decision with no obvious ‘best’ choice.
For example, should he continue up the pass and hope to find a sheltered place to spend the night or stop now and find a place to conceal himself.
He heard the dogs getting closer and remembered the last choice he had made. Should he kill his wife, or only the man in her bed?

TJ

Jane sat (outside or inside) a (bar or coffeeshop) and drank (espresso or beer). Suddenly, a (Porsche or Lambourghini) swerved to the curb and the driver waved to her. It was Dale, her (husband or boyfriend). She (hopped in and they drove off, or she waved him away, choosing to stay with her new friend, Michael). A motorcycle pulled up next to her, driven by her sister, eyes flashing adventure. Jane (hopped on back and they rode away laughing, or Jane’s nails dug into Dale’s arm, or Jane sipped her beverage and felt the poison take effect). What happens next?!

Justin

Would you rather? That’s how the new justice system works. If you’re convicted, you have two choices of punishment. They did it to reduce the prison population. Many times prison isn’t even a choice! In fact, since they broadcast the results, it generates revenue with advertising and premium content sales. Some crimes get more viewers, since the punishment always has a tie to the crime. Robbers normally have to give up their own possessions, murderers frequently die. My favorite? Liars. Why? The judge can lie, saying any punishment they want fits the crime. Judge Simon always picks the best punishments.

Zachmann

Come with me, I want to take you to my new special place. I found this little shop a few weeks ago and want to treat you. You will not believe this place. There are so many choices here that I have trouble making my mind up when I order. I may have let people go ahead of me in line to have more time to choose.
I can not believe it I take you here with thousands of tastes, colors, and sensations. The best ice cream store in the world and you you choose to order plain vanilla .

Steven

She lays in the motel bed with him, afternoon sun hot on bare skin.
Two rings lay on the nightstand. Hers is a frilly feminine one her
husband chose. His is a thick, simple, plain band. He told his wife
what style of ring he’d wear.
He didn’t make a decision on his own after that. Not until they met.
She kisses the rough stubble on his cheek, and wakes him. She
carefully does not say – refuses to say – “Time to go.”
They kiss, and they dress. She will leave her ring on the nightstand,
and wonders if he will.

JRadimus

Hell. Everyone’s got their own version of it. We’ve heard of the Greeks’ Underworld with Hades, a multi-headed dog, and the river of over-wrought music. Christians and Muslims have the fiery bowels of Hell itself. There’s enough ambiguity, Christians have added variations on the theme like Purgatory and Outer Darkness. Jews have a metaphorical pit of guilt and shame. Buddhists and Hindus have a sort of waiting room for punishments before coming back to Earth to take another crack at Nirvana.
Not even close. It’s an eternal game of Zobmondo, with literal consequences. Choose carefully: that Devil’s a bastard. Literally.

Arri

He had to pick a fork. One led to prosperity and the other to despair. But which led to what? There wasn’t time to waffle on the matter. NOW required a committed action.
But how to decide? No telling one from the other.
This is important. Doesn’t this rate a vision or insight, a clue?
Damn, not a clue in sight. Maybe from the view of others? No good. No sight there. Just fog. Mind numbing fog.
Let go…
With that he removed the barrel from his mouth, the 18 wheeler skidded to a stop with two feet to spare.

Ishtar

I don’t want to make this decision, this choice.
If I do then it will be my end.
Is it my depression, driving a spike in my brain,
purposely making me insane? Everywhere I go I see him.
I just want to hold him, touch him again.
The bullets in my gun are calling me. Choose, choose.
One minute you’re here, the next with him again.
CHOOOOOSE.
The seduction of this depression is so, so sweet. The spike
is driven further. The hammer click is so divine.
Choose.
Again that word. I see the light. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Misfire.

Katharina

“Come on! Would you ever choose one?” he was exhausted.
“But, I don’t know whether the red or the black one looks better!”
“Darling, you look fantastic in both!”
“Not helping!”
“Okay, take the black one.”
“Why, what’s wrong with the red one?” her voice sounded worried through
the half-open bathroom door.
“Just put one on already! I can’t bear to wait anymore!”
“Alright, I’m coming.”
She stepped out into the bedroom with her black lingerie. With a quick
move he was on his feet, unhooked the bra and panties and sent them
flying.
“Looks better on the floor anyway…” he smiled widely.

Planet Z

Ash was hungry. And too lazy to go to the grocery store.
So, he looked on his Pokemon shelf, trying to decide what he’d have for dinner.
He eventually decided on his old entry-level fighting friend, Pikachu.
Throwing the ball to the ground, he watched his favorite yellow lightning-rodent explode with joy.
It stared up at him with beady black eyes.
“I choose you, Pikachu,” said Ash, and he put it in the microwave.
Bad idea. The microwave started to spark, and the lights went out.
Smoke poured from the kitchen.
Ash pulled out his phone and ordered pizza.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Three, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Mucus and Eyes Like An Owl!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	TJ
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Anima
	Norval Joe
	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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Steven

I go over the edge of the trench with the gas. It rolls in thick
liquid clouds.
The enemy is surprised. Both of us are hampered by gas masks. My
bayonet slices up, straps snap, and his mask falls away.
His eyes widen into owl eyes, pupils dilating from the poison. Snot
and blood pour from his mouth and nose. He clutches his chest and
gasps to a stop. His bowels release staining his trousers as he dies.
I breathe in through my mask’s charcoal filters. I smell nothing.
I raise my rifle and shoot a stranger twenty feet away.

TJ

They couldn’t fault him for tardiness. New Year’s Day he was at work before the foreman. His attire was that of a sharp-dressed man, still living the high life from the night before. True, he could’ve cleaned up a little. He came to suddenly, hungover, nose running, stubbly and red eyes staring like an owl’s. But his penmanship was perfect – or rather, that of his asshole friends, who left him passed out under seven-foot letters, “I QUIT!” He saw them when his boss kicked the nearby aerosol can at his head. “Happy New Year,” he grumped. “Now clean that up!”

Zachmann

I found a metal box, well more of a cylinder. I opened it up and there was a creature who was covered in mucus and had eyes like an owl. The creature sat up and said “May I use your shower or at least a hose? This mucus kept me alive in stasis but it is kind of gross and I would like to clean it off me.” After it used my shower, it told me it had questions for someone involved in the Clay Fenton incident and asked me if I knew where It could find The Space Turtle.

JRadimus

He was led, still shackled, from a bright anteroom into the darkened arena. The chanting of the crowd echoed off the walls; the combined din throbbed in Plaq’s ears. His eyes began adjusting to the dimness. His captors dimmed the lights for this death-match for the benefit of his owl- eyed opponent. For sadistic aliens, these creeps were annoyingly even-handed about their ritual sacrifices. At least they’d given him gauntlets so he could grip his foe’s mucus-covered body. “OK,” Plaq thought, “so I can grab it; if I don’t find some kind of weak-spot soon, I’m toast no matter what.”

Justin

I never expected to be the one to save the planet.
HootBoy saw the danger coming with his eyes like an owl. A meteor heading to Earth. Some characteristic hid it from radar.
The Arm Wrestler strong armed the meteorite into gently resting in South Africa. It started in Morocco, and finally stopped in Mozambique.
When the rock broke open and an attack squad of alien adolescent girls swarmed out, that’s when I had my moment to shine.
With my power to project mucus like water from a fire hose, I just grossed them out until they all fell unconscious.

Anima

Shivering violently, John weakly raises his head off the pillow.
His nose is running, a marathon apparently, by the accumulation of used tissues by the sofa. Mucus is crusted around his nares.
“Honey”, he rasps, “I think I’m getting sicker. Can you check my temp again?”
This is his umpteenth request in 90 minutes. Of course he’s got a fever. It’s the flu….
“In a few, babe, I need to check on the livestock…”
“Hurry…”
“Where do you think you’re gonna stick THAT?” he croaks , eyeing the horse thermometer, eyes wide as an owl’s.

Norval Joe

One night, I’m ready to close the shop, the door creaks open and someone enters. I don’t see anyone and wonder if I’m under a spell.
When I here a wet snuffling, I stand and look over the counter to see a small creature peering up at me. It’s big round eyes like an owls. It rubbed its nose with the back of a scrawny arm and smeared mucus around its face.
It held out its boney hand, and said, “these dice don’t work.”
“They don’t work,” I asked? “Maybe you rolled them wrong.”
Man, little kids shouldn’t play D&D.”

Planet Z

The planet looked like a gigantic glob of glowing green mucous.
We built a robot to send down.
It looked human, but had eyes like an owl and wide feet to keep it upright.
They sent it down via a remote-controlled dropship.
Five hours later, the planet changed from green to red.
The dropship was coming back up on its own.
Nobody was piloting it. And it wasn’t responding to remote helm signals.
We rose three kilometers from deployment and docking altitude.
The dropship stopped. And exploded.
The planet turned green again.
We tagged the planet “unfriendly” and left.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s A story from the viewpoint of an inanimate object with a Paper Sack, Full Moon, Beginnings!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	Norval Joe
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	TJ
	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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Norval Joe

There were vague memories almost as if they were the residual dreams of others. Separate thoughts of being jelly, or peanut butter, and bread, many slices.
True awareness began when it was slipped into the clear plastic bag, and settled into the dark with an apple and a bag of chips.
They left at noon, the apple and chips. Only the sandwich remained to watch the blue rectangle of sky above fade to grey, then black, alone in the school yard.
Warily, in the dim yellow light cast by the full moon, a stray dog followed the scent of food.

Steven

I found Maria by the airlock, avoiding hyperventilation by puffing into the sack. Her hair swirled in the spaceship’s low gravity.
She gasped “It’s starting!” before breathing into the paper again.
“What’s starting?” I asked.
She pointed at the porthole. I looked out, into the black. “I don’t see…” I said, then I did.
The moon, still dark and new from Earth’s viewpoint, showed a different face to our spaceship. We saw the far side of the moon. It shone bright and full.
Maria’s hand, now more of a paw, fell on my shoulder.
Behind me, I heard a growl.

Zachmann

I am sitting here in a closet waiting to play games and watch movies, I hope the first one is not Twilight New Moon. I love movies with good beginnings. I am will be disappointed with movies with happy endings unless all the children are asleep. Why did they wrap me in a paper sack? I mean it is pretty and has Christmas trees and missile toe but I cost several days pay I am worth Christmas Wrapping paper. They have cats and a dog. I should be glad that I am not under the tree. Alas, poor Teddy bear

JRadimus

Ow! Watch it, buddy! Oh, good gravy. It’s another dumpster diver. Scavenger! It must be a full moon. They like the natural light to rummage by. I wish he’d be more careful; we don’t enjoy the groping, shoving, tearing, and the stick with the nail in the end, you know. My purpose in this life was to help a wino hide his bottle from cops and have him slosh and slobber on me. Now, to have this guy toss me aside for a 2-cent piece of glass or metal is humiliating. I hope I come back as a notebook.

Justin

awake, glistening and new. What am I? I stand stately between three shiny walls and in a sea of brand new blue tile. Behind me is a wall of the same blue tile. My memory rushes back in. I’m made of vitreous china, a mix of clay, silica and a fluxing agent, shaped and fired in a kiln. The wall in front of me opens. A man in shabby clothes walks in with a paper bag. His belt and his pants drop. When he turns to reveal a full moon, I remember I’m a toilet in a public restroom.

TJ

As the statue of David, I am among the naughtier pieces of statuary in Rome. In the evenings, drunken old men slouch in hiding behind my pedestal to rest a moment or two, desecrating my ancient male beauty to make blurting and blorping sounds, taking occasional nips from bottles hidden poorly in tattered paper bags clutched in their fists. Recently I’d begun to take my vengeance, however, against these old Italian drunks. True, I am nothing more than a statue, stuck here in place, but even an inanimate object such as myself can present my defilers with a FULL MOON!

Planet Z

For ten years, a camera watched the back of the store on Baker and Seventh streets.
The place has been robbed a few times, but always from the front.
That camera sees all the action.
The back camera doesn’t see a thing. Just a bum, drinking Mad Dog out of a paper bag under the full moon.
A thug slaps the paper bag away, punches the bum, and stares at the camera before pulling on a ski mask.
He kicks in the door, robs the place. First one from the back door.
Too bad nobody put a tape in tonight.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Hat!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Lynda
	JRadimus
	Zachmann
	Steven
	Jeffrey
	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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Norval Joe

It looked like Santa’s hat, red velvet, trimmed with white rabbit’s fur. When the boy plucked it from the ground it felt rubbery and floppy, like wet leather.
Unthinking, he sat on a log in the forest glade, and placed it on his head.
He dreamed of fighting dragons. He rescued a captive princess. He aided the sick, fed the hungry and sheltered the homeless.
When the fungus on his head finally dried and crumbled to dust the hallucinogenic effect of the narcotic spores dissipated.
He was an old man, then.
There was a new king.
Nothing had truly changed.

TJ

“I found him!”
Sentox wurbled over to the console where a subordinate monitored 95 active blips representing tagged humans across the large central continent below. Or, rather, 96. Farjox Elbatia #03942/H5, or Herbert Weigel of Mott, N.D. – or rather, the red blip that represented him – had reappeared on the monitor.
Sentox furrowed his brow. H5’s signal was weakened from when he fell off the radar three years ago. So Sentox ordered an away team be deployed to install a booster suppository.
They were about to secure his tag when the blip suddenly vanished. Curses! Herbert had replaced his tinfoil hat.

Justin

The rocks filled the tunnels behind me as I slid into the dark mineshaft.
I felt around the dirt and rocks and found a helmet.
I put it on my head and felt for the light switch.
I flipped it and unbelievably it illuminated the ghosts of the miners who’d died working and toiling here.
Blind to everything but the ghosts, they led me down a series of shafts to a lift that I used to pull myself to the light.
When I looked, I was alone again.
I lowered the helmet back into the shaft to rest in peace.

Lynda

One December, I forget how long ago, a hat fell from the sky, right in front of me. It was one of those freaky red and white ones the guys at the mall wear when they get sadistic and want to be peed on by hysterical kids.
At first I was worried a bunch of reindeer poop was going to follow, but it never did.
I didn’t know what to do with the hat, so I took it home and now every year I wear it while sneaking into kid’s rooms to give them books and coats. I get arrested.

JRadimus

I re-awoke at the shock, ice-cold water mixing with warm blood and sweat. The pain that knocked me out re-awoke as well. I winced. I fought to open my eyes against the swelling. It was pointless: the light was in my face; everything was shades of black.
“Put your hands through the armholes.”
“Why?”
“So the fire ants can bite you.” – “No? OK. ‘Or else’.” He back-handed me, then squeezed my cheeks, forcing my broken jaw open. I winced again.
“Whaih?”
“Ah – Because…” He slid a forceps between my toothless gums, grabbed my tongue and pulled. “You insulted my hat.”

Zachmann

My cousin got a new hired hand named Jeff, who never took off his hat. This drove my cousin’s wife crazy at the dinner table and she almost refused to feed him but Jeff has so much skill in husbandry and horticulture that she decided let him wear a hat at the table. Jeff even wore his hat to bed. On day my cousin’s wife got too curious and took off the hat when the Jeff slept and under she found a head full gears and steam. Do tell anyone because it’s hard to find such a good farm hand.

Steven

My son puts on a newsboy cap, picks up a newspaper and his voice rings out: “Extra, extra, read all about it!”
I laugh, and he tosses the hat aside. He grabs a cop’s hat and waves a baton. A helmet, and he’s lowcrawling along the floor.
I see the fedora, but I’m not fast enough. Steel eyes gaze from under its brim.
“Couldn’t wait for the inheritance,” my father says through my son.
I stumble backward as my son, wearing my father’s hat and my father’s eyes, raises the knife.
“You never could wait,” he said.
“But I could.”

Jeffrey

I have a hat that I like a lot, but I almost never wear it out of the house. My wife says it makes me look like I am in a bad western. I think it makes me look like Jones, Dr. Jones. You know, Jr.
My kids all call me cowboy dad when I wear it, and that gets me to goofing of and saying things like, “Now you cow pokes get yerselves in the car before I have to brand ya.”
Which of course leads to my wife saying things like, “You’re a dork you know that right?”

Planet Z

Sleepy Hollow gets all the press, what with that Hessian maniac chopping off heads.
He’s gotten so popular, Salem’s complaining that nobody covers the witch trials.
Other villages hold festivals, carnivals; but they can’t compete with a monster on a horse beheading townsfolk.
Good.
You see, I’m the Headless Horseman’s agent. And his contract is an absolute gold mine.
At first, he just took panties and hats in Boston. Got branded as a pervert.
So, we relocated to the forest and tried a new tactic.
There was another agent here. Tried to sign him.
That head, I kept for myself.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Work!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	Katharina
	Zachmann
	Justin
	Planet Xray
	TJ
	Norval Joe
	JRadimus
	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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Steven

Kethin’s legs squeezed against the dragon’s scales as they rose into
the winter night. His furs warmed him, but his eyes were freezing
behind the goggles. The mountain cave fell away behind the dragon’s
wings. The cold moonlight shone on fleeing clouds and glittering snow
below.
Kethin spotted the town lights below. He leaned forward, and the
dragon dove for the city. At the last moment, he drove in his spurs
and pulled up. Dragonfire lashed out, and they rose high over the
street, wet with newly melted snow.
“One of these days,” Kethin thought, “I’ll get an interesting job.”

Katharina

Today, I was the first one in the office. I had only just sat down when I heard the doorbell ring. The only reason I got back up was that it just didn’t stop ringing.
Opening the door I started to complain. As I looked up, I stopped mid-sentence. He was here. He was mine.
Wordless, he took my hand and led me to my office. If only to assure himself that I was still his, he lifted my skirt and took me then and there.
When we got back up, I heard the key in the entrance door turn.

Zachmann

The Nissa, the Norse little people, who followed my grandparents form the old world are trying to get me into trouble by going on my computer and posting on my facebook and twitter when I am at work since I would never do that myself not even with a smartphone.The Nissa watch youtube and Hulu when I am at work. I think they using the gaming systems since they are still turned on when I return home from work . They have a special affection for Link. Anything I posted when I’m at work was done by the Nissa

Justin

Robots tried cloning a human workforce, but the bodies grew to awaken brain dead. Clones work well for spare parts, but growing them takes months. I was always an advocate of workplace safety, but it has gotten ridiculous. The robots take over humanity, then because we are hard to “repair” quickly, they require us to wear ultra-powered safety armor so we don’t hurt ourselves. Why not just control the armor themselves? Hold on, if I can just override these security functions, done, and send this code to everyone, we fully control the system! Lets see how safe we are now

Planet Xray

I have always been a backward guy.
My week went something like this.
Mondays, I spent the day cleaning my BMW.
Tuesdays, I cruised the beaches looking at the sights and the ladies.
Wednesday, I set aside for sport, it didn’t matter what it was, as long as it was athletic.
Thursdays I would spend the day flipping the TV between Showtime, HBO and the Discovery Channel.
Fridays I would hop from bar to bar, ending up at a dance club.
Saturday was my rest day.
And then there was Sunday, what can I say, you have to work sometime.

TJ

We don’t always hear positive reinforcement concerning the things we do, but if you ever wonder if your work is appreciated, copy editors: misspell someone’s name in the paper. Stockboys. Let the toilet paper aisle run low. Pharmacists: Forget to order Pepto-Bismol. Bankers: Make a bunch of thoroughly indefensible loans and sell them to each other. Mechanics: Replace brake fluid with motor oil. Chefs: Switch out vegetarian lasagna with regular. Farmers: Leave off milking for a day or two. Baristas: Forget to unlock the doors for a couple hours. Whatever it is we do, indeed, we are all deeply appreciated.

Norval Joe

They quietly slipped through the sliding glass door into the backyard.
“What is it?” he asked the older boy, eyeing the silky black wad of material his brother clutched close to his chest.
“It’s a Batman cape, just like the one on TV. With this cape, you can fly,” he said with believable sincerity. He’d seen the show on their black and white TV, and it looked like the one.
He helped his little brother into the cape and onto the roof of the house.

JRadimus

Let’s see… What’s the Weekly Challenge this week…? Hmm… “Work”… Huh. One of those “broad-strokes” topics. I like those: they don’t shove you in a particular corner. There are so many directions I could go…
…“Hard work”…
…“Yard work”…
…“Job I hated”…
…“Job I loved”…
…”Old job”…
…”New job”…
You know what? Just give me some direction!
…Wait a minute. This is an easy topic! I could write any story I can think of, and just work the topic in- wait: -“work”- the topic in. That gives me an idea – How many words am I up to? …98, 99, 100!

Planet Z

Even though Fred worked in banking, he loved to make up occupations on his tax returns.
“Rodeo Clown Consultant” was his latest. He’s also claimed to be a Psychic Fishtank Cleaner, an Elevator Repair Superhero, and The Number Twelve.
He’d get audited every year, and laughed as the auditor came up with the exact same figures he did on his returns.
Every year, he’d get the same auditor, and given a choice between becoming enemies and friends, they chose friendship.
Both retired the same year and, soon afterwards, died in a horrible elevator accident.
Well, Fred obviously couldn’t repair it.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-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… was…. um…
It’s Smoke!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which stories were the best this week?
	Steven
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Lynda
	Zachmann
	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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Steven

The demons came from the campfire’s smoke. Jonah woke at Reyald’s
scream. Boyd slept until Reyald’s head bounced off his stomach.
“Last time I let Reyald stand watch,” Boyd grumbled, drawing his sword.
“You know,” Jonah said as he parried a claw, “I think that someone
wants us dead.” He thrust upward, drenching himself in demon blood.
Boyd dodged a tentacle. “Nah.” He stabbed the tentacle before it
could grab Jonah.
“Thanks,” Jonah replied, pouring holy water on a demon. “But disagree?”
Boyd sliced open the last demon’s abdomen. “Yeah.” He sat down. “I
think someone wanted these demons dead.”

Norval Joe

All Larry wanted to do after High School was join the military. He was big, strong and played on the football team until cancer took his leg.
He liked to smoke Camel no filters. He called them coffin nails. It wasn’t the cigarettes that killed him, though.
He had bi-polar depression. When he didn’t take his pills he could get pretty angry and depressed.
One day he didn’t come in to work. One of the guys went to check on him.
Larry had put a .45 through his head.
Some say he’d quit, given up.
I say he was beaten.

TJ

Winters were the worst, and the best. Sure, we had to go outside and it was cold. But the taste of crisp, frosty air firing a rich, savory mentholated Marlboro light, that was magnificent. It’s been three years, three months, and I can still taste it, the flavors, the feelings, that tingling sensation in the tips of the fingers following the first cigarette of the day, and privation giving way to a sense of instant fulfillment flooding through one’s entire being. Watching the smoke drift away and carry with it all of one’s troubles … GOD do I miss smoking.

JRadimus

With the sun’s rising, the chirps and calls of insects, frogs and birds rise through the forest. Collectively, the dewdrops lend the grass a velvety glow, resolving into tiny diamonds close up. The sunlight mixes with smoke hanging across the meadow; they become solid liquid vapor, and give the shadows crisp 3-dimensional shapes. A doe and fawn wander out of the forest canopy’s cover into the meadow’s openness. The sharp crack of a breaking twig snaps the silence. The doe freezes, ears swiveling and nostrils flaring, alert for the source of the danger, and the fawn bolts instinctively for cover.

Justin

In ancient Japan a young samurai warrior saw smoke upon the horizon. He ran to see what was happening. Upon arriving he discovered a Catholic monk rushing back and forth between the bubbling river and the burning trees with a bucket, extinguishing the flames. When the trees were saved, the monk said that God told him to come to Japan and preserve the certain forest from flames and burning. This happened many more times over the years in that forest. Anytime the trees burned, the monk appeared. The young samurai learned that when there is smoke there is friar.

Lynda

Don’t smoke, she told me. She doused me in gasoline, told me the next cigarette would be my last.
I put arsenic in her donuts. She locked herself in the bathroom for three days.
I offered her a truce. I’d take her out to eat if she let me take a shower.
How could I know she’d been hooking up the bathroom plumbing to a tank of acid?
As I soaked in the cooking oil she was so fond of drinking, I told her she’d have to find another man.
“Did that five months ago,” she said, lighting a match.

Zachmann

Little Betty, Your getting older but you still look good
I wish you would quit smoking.
I don’t like it when you smoke.
I spend all my money on you and I think you should not smoke.
Are you angry with me for driving too fast?
Why are you acting this way?
It’s like you have blown a gasket or something.
Little Betty, please stop smoking and take me home.
I wish you would not act like this.
I fear we will be waiting for the auto club.
Little Betty you’re my true love because
because You are my car.

Planet Z

Early robots would get trapped in Ethics Loops.
Ask them a question or give them a command that caused an unresolvable conflict, and the robot would halt, take on an odd expression, and their circuits would heat up.
If you didn’t purchase an auto-restart or a sufficient cooling system for your robot, you’d have a meltdown.
The late poet Ruby compared the smoke to a soul escaping from the body, released into eternity.
I knew it was an expensive repair. But Ruby kept blowing CPUs
Why? She liked inhaling those “robot souls.” Good for a cheap, albeit toxic buzz.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-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… was…. um…
It’s Impact!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which stories were the best this week?
	Steven
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Zachmann
	Anima
	JRadimus
	Katharina
	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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Steven

In 2012, the whales told us they were intelligent.
Then they told us they were causing global warming.
My roommate giggled as the whale songs were translated into the
details of the libertarian Federation of Ceteceans. He laughed harder
as the whales revealed their ongoing plan.
Carbon dioxide was the first step. Next, they would free methane
trapped at the ocean floor, spiking the temperature and turning the
Earth into… well, the Water.
“That’s horrible,” I said.
“Don’t you see the irony?” he asked. “They’re libertarians. They
don’t believe in environmental impact statements!”
I thought I could smell salt water.

Norval Joe

“Mr. Caldwell, you need to take responsibility for you actions,” the social worker had told him, just before they released him from the city jail. “You have a wife and children who want you to come home. You had a well paying responsible job. You can’t just walk away from those things.”
The words had no more impact on his mind than the cold, wet, mist that beaded on the old, filth encrusted, army field jacket.
“Responsablity is a curse. I have all of it I want,” he muttered to himself as he shuffled away down teh dismal empty street.

TJ

In the airlessness of space there’s no real sense of immediacy. People dismiss the concept of a clockwork universe absent a caretaker, but in all reality, the supernovae responsible for forging our uranium, gold and lead spun out a disc of heat and dust some 4.5 billion years ago. There was the smash that gave us our moon, then we were nudged gently into place by one or two genocidal meteors until one day, something that’s just been silently zipping along out there all this time presents our more curious primates with a dazzling lightshow and an “Earth-shattering kaboom.” Oooooooo.

Justin

“Knock-knock, it’s Johnny Copperwire!”
“Hello there Johnny, and Dex, good to see you! I’m working on this Numbing Ray. It will revolutionize the use of anesthetics in medicine and dentistry!”
“Sounds capital Professor Winston, can I try it?”
“Sure, I’ve stand there…”
“Dex’s mother isn’t going to yell at me for this, will she?”
“Now, touch your face, feel anything?”
“Nope, nothing. I can even slap myself over and over and I don’t feel anything at all!”
“It works!”
“You mean you’ve never tried it before?”
“Oh, good point. I’ll power it down… feel anything now?”
“Owwwwwww, my face hurts!”

Zachmann

I started to wonder what the impact on my life would be if I read a print book since it has been a long time since I read a book.
1) Would I pick the right book
2) Would it affect my writing
3) Would I be able to read some of it at work
So I picked a book thinking if I was not going to write a book I could read one.
1) Started reading
2) Brought to work and it had impact as it fell on wet pavement
3) Should have expected problems since book was CURSED

Anima

It’s a simple question: Paper or Plastic? Little did I know what impact my actions could have.
Choose paper, and I destroy the rainforest that holds the answer to the cancer that I now carry, unbeknownst to me. I also cause 7 people to lose their jobs; Chose plastic, and I am a heathen that honors the wishes of big oil, sucking on the teat of megaindustry. If I tote everything home in the bag that I wove out of the hemp fibers I harvested, I risk living a life of criminal farming, and of being too politically correct. ARRRGH!

JRadimus

Wind whips past his ears, thundering out everything but the snapping of his nylon suit. Pure exhilaration: that’s why he dives. Kyle never tires of the initial thrill of leaping into open air. But that thrill was immediately crushed by an icy horror tearing through him. He had pulled the rip cord, but nothing had happened.
The mental impact of his new reality would be nothing to the physical impact of the ground’s reality, now rushing unnecessary, unwanted detail at his eyes. He whispers a prayer, hoping being closer to Heaven will help. He grips the emergency cord, and pulls.

Katharina

I remembered this feeling… It was like a wonderful memory, so amazing that it almost felt unreal. This overwhelming feeling of excitement and tension was creeping up behind me. Oh, I knew exactly what it was.
My hand reached carefully behind me, unsure what it would grasp. Even though I expected naked skin, it still shot an electric shock through my body.
“Turn around”
I felt my feet being swept away.
The force that I hit the bed with took my breath away.
Still, it was nothing compared to the sheer force of the impact he had entering me.

Planet Z

The team chartered a luxury jet from an Dubai businessman, who was once a high-flier but now looking to make a quick buck to repay some shady loans.
The players sprawled on the sofas and lounge chairs, throwing footballs around and laughing.
“This is way better than that shithole that’s sponsoring the Super Bowl,” said the coach, holding a glass of brandy and a cigar.
Except that hotels don’t crash.
Everyone died on impact.
The league declared a forfeit, Vegas paid off big for the underdog.
And the businessman bought a smaller jet with his winnings and insurance settlement.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Seven, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Hospitality!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories?
	Anima
	Steven
	TJ
	Katharina
	Norval Joe
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Anima

Zlinka dreamed of working in the hospitality industry; She learned the finest cooking in France and Austria, diplomacy from various parliamentarians, and how to hold a proper tea from the Queen herself.
But it was not enough – Once Zlinka had her own inn, she discovered that travelers are whiners – the lamb at dinner was too raw, the straw beds too moldy, the lounge too dank and smelly…
What did they really expect from an Ogre? After 4 miserable years, Chez Grendl closed its doors.
Zlinka is much happier as a middle manager overseeing loans at the local bank.

Steven

“There, grandpa,” Mike said, his young hand releasing the wood tile.
“I spelled PIT. How many points is that?”
Grandfather looked at the board. “I think it’s ten.”
“Did you play this game a lot with grandma before she died?”
“Yes. We played most nights.” Grandfather put his tiles down on the
board. “Hospital.”
The boy frowned and hummed, then his face lit up as he put down his
letters. “Hospitality,” he said.
“Congratulations,” Grandfather said. “You win!”
As they left the room, they left behind the game board. There, for a
little while, hospitality was spelled with two e’s.

TJ

I wasn’t born in a barn. My mother raised me just fine, and indeed a coworker’s 50th birthday is a milestone affair, a thing to be celebrated. I agree with all of these things. And it’s true that Phil did push just the tiniest bit too hard on the RSVP, but I honestly couldn’t think of anything else I’d be doing on a Saturday afternoon so I blurted out “Of course!” and yes, prayed that something, anything would come up. It didn’t. So here I am. The only one. At the home of Phil who oh, I didn’t mention? Nudist.

Katharina

“Welcome to my humble abode.” She motioned the young man into her house.
The weather was horrible, a thunderstorm unseen in years. He was soaking wet and dripped on the floor, leaving behind huge puddles of water. Shaking and obviously cold, he was thankful for the pot of soup he soon had between his hands. It was a rich soup, with potatoes, noodles and a lot of vegetables. The clothes she had given him were a bit too big for him – he figured the man in the house must be rather tall.
“What is your name anyway, young lad?”
“Hänsel”
“Oh, how fitting! I needed fresh meat anyway…”

Norval Joe

Making a living as a traveling minister during the great depression was difficult. He went to the south, hoping to find a humble, accepting feild of labor.
He turned his attention to the people he had grown up calling the “Mulato’s”.
“You’ve come in time for dinner,” he was told at the first house he visited.
“I’d heard of southern hospitality, but I didn’t expect this,” he said as a girl washed his hands, trimmed his nails and brushed his hair.
In the kitchen the mother made a gumbo, the grandmother used his hair and nails t0 make a doll.
If I win, how about, donkeys

JRadimus

In some cultures, it is a terrible insult to your host if you eat all the food on your plate at dinner. It says, “You are a stingy and unwelcoming host.” In other cultures, it is great praise. It says, “You are a generous and gracious host.”
As the honored guest at a ceremony of the Korowai of Papua New Guinea, I do not know which custom they follow. Frankly, I could not care less how much of me they leave on their plates. It is hardly the debate to have with oneself in the broth, amongst the root vegetables.

Justin

Johnny made sure his jaw still worked and stood. Doctor Sinusoid stood on the deck, small and red faced.
“Welcome to my airship, Mr. Copperwire. I trust my assistant Palms greeted you nicely?”
“If you call giving me several high-fives to my face nice, then I don’t want to suffer your hospitality.”
“Well, I had to bring you here on my terms, of course.”
“But I’ll be leaving on mine.”
Johnny tossed a sachet at Sinusoid. Palms swatted it into powder.
Sinusoid and Palms sneezed and fell over gasping.
“Now to disassemble the sine wave death ray without any opposition.”

Planet Z

I work in a hospital. I run network systems for the IT Department.
Medical records? Scheduling?
All computers.
Sadly, Hospitality and Hospital IT are mutually exclusive.
We’re well aware that the time it takes a system to reboot may kill someone. Or, if it’s the networked pharmacy database corrupting, an entire floor can get wiped out.
Everything is a crisis. Everything is important. It’s written over all of our monitors.
You do not need to keep reminding us.
It’s rude. It’s repetitive. It’s patronizing. And it wastes valuable time that should be spent fixing the problem.
It’s just downright… inhospitable.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Six, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Stuffing!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which stories were the best this week?
	Steven
	Lynda
	Katharina from Vienna
	Erin
	TJ
	Justin
	Norval Joe
	Davy
	JRadimus 1
	JRadimus 2
	JRadimus 3
	Great Hites
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Steven

Fluffles the Bunny looked over the flesh crowd. A few other clothies
were here, but they were more concerned with not being smooshed
underfoot than listening.
Snookums Bear studied the crowd over Fluffles’ shoulder. “Ugly crowd, boss.”
Fluffles narrowed his button eyes. “It’s the first anniversary of our
struggle, when Dan Bear stood up to the humans.” The bunny took the
microphone and began his speech.
“Do I not have eyes? If you prick us, do we not bleed?”
Fluffles then noticed polyester fill poking through one of his seams.
The crowd kicked the stuffing out of him.

Lynda

My grandmother’s stuffing is legendary, brings all the grown men in my family to tears!
One Thanksgiving, my wife–new to the tasty taste sensation–tried to guess what the little morsels of juicy deliciousness scattered throughout the cornbread were.
“Pork?”
“Family secrets!” is all she ever says. It’s funny, but the year she confessed that to my wife, Grampa Jed burst into tears.
She’s never revealed her mystery ingredient, although I think my uncles figured it out a while ago. Strangely enough, once they work out the recipe, no one wants to eat it anymore.
More for me!

Katharina

After 2 hours in the oven the chicken should be pretty much done. Apparently, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone for the biggest one – but I wanted to impress. The skin already looked delicious… dark gold and slightly crunchy. Going for a dish typical for the region I grew up in was a conscious choice. I wanted him to know where I came from. The potatoes under the chicken looked already done as well. My only worry was the stuffing. It should be firm and not soggy, soft but not dried out. I took a deep breath and opened the oven door.

Erin

Stuffing a toy turkey seemed a little absurd. Whatever happened to kids playing in the woods like in the good ole’ days, you know when the only entertainment they needed was nature itself. Now, Sally wants plastic ponies, dolls, and over the top stories about sparkling vampires. Jimmy wants electronic toys guns that emit piercing sounds along with video games, hence his white complexion from never going outside. Oh and the baby, only the best in over priced cloth toys, hence why I myself am stuffing a turkey to add to her ever growing collection, instead of breaking the bank.

TJ

In the wake of the explosion, there was little left to identify. The car’s interior was scorched and its inhabitants immolated. The minister’s domestic staff were questioned individually and while there were the usual missteps and discrepancies, they revealed nothing conclusive. By the close of the week the household staff were informed their services would no longer be required and it was at that time Mother Postworth, sometime spy and governess, packed away with her knitting a quantity of cotton stuffing, one quite similar to the amount of plastic explosive hidden inside the teddy bear carried by his lordship’s son.

Zachmann

Kevin invited our family over for the Thanksgiving meal. He was worried about the meal because he had never cooked a Thanksgiving meal before and never made stuffing. Kevin’s roommate told him he could buy stuffing from Wal-Mart. Most of the meal was very good although the turkey was a little dry. Some one asked “What was the white stuff inside the turkey?” Kevin’s roommate said “It is my fault because I didn’t know how stressed Kevin was and when I said buy stuffing from Wal-Mart I didn’t think he would buy the stuffing from the arts and crafts section.”

Justin

Brobby dug into his pockets for the things he had stuffed in them while exploring.
He played with some twigs for a bit, trying to stand them up like a tepee. A small stone glittered while it tumbled in his fingers. One real lucky find was a splacknuck tooth.
His mother heard him sobbing, and seeing the tooth asked if he had cut himself. He uncovered a limp little man, bent all wrong. Brobby’s mother consoled him and told him that a human was too fragile to survive in his pockets and that he should try a jar next time.

Norval Joe

His face was frozen in a rictus of pain. His eyes bulged out of their sockets and hung, as if on strings sewn through the back of his skull. His mouth hung open, evidence of his silent scream.
The pain was intense, unbearable, it filled his world. He wished he would die, or at least pass out from the pain but still he endured.
The giant creature sat on his chest, pinned his arms and legs to the ground, displacing and crushing his insides mercilessly.
The little boy laughed sadistically and pulled the stuffing from the torn teady bears chest.

Davy

He surveyed the mess, scattered all over the kitchen floor, shaking his
head in disbelief.
“That bloody dog! I’m going to pull its teeth out if I catch him!” he
yelled.
“What is it, dear?” asked his wife, rushing in to see what the fuss was
about.
“One hour to go until we serve up Thanksgiving dinner and this happens!
The stuffing is everywhere! Dinner is going to be ruined!” he sobbed.
“Now there, don’t fret. We can sort this in no time at all,” said Mrs.
Bear, bending down to pick up her husband’s fluffy innards and stuff them
back in his belly.

JRadimus 1

While driving my bus through the scrubbers after my route, I kept seeing a fuzzy brown face press against the windows: brush – brush – brush – FACE. Another driver must have found a teddy bear fallen off a lorry’s grill, and tied him there. We see ‘em all the time. I was overcome by sentiment; to their amusement, I slogged through the brushes to free the little guy. I scrubbed him up and poked his stuffing back in. He watched us wash our busses. Then he watched me drive ‘til I retired. Now, Bus Wash sits and watches me watch telly.

JRadimus 2

We received a mysterious invitation to the Magic Friend Factory. We entered, feeling not entirely unlike Charlie Bucket. We were led through corridors, confused, but curious. In the Friend Picker, our tears were sampled, and a few minutes later, a plush sock-body twin of our late Coco came down a chute. They put it in the Stuffer, and we watched the body fill. They stitched her closed and handed her to us. When we held her, she transformed: no longer a stuffed animal, but an immortal surrogate for our lost friend. There’s a lot of magic in a little stuffing.

JRadimus 3

Oliver tore into the interloper with abandon. “Rrrr … Unh …. Rrrrrr-rah! That’ll show you!” The interloper stopped resisting, and lay limp and lifeless under Oliver’s grip. Just then, the front door opened. Oliver froze as Trish and Jay walked in on an interesting scene: their Beagle sitting amongst a blizzard of cotton batting swirling around him, with Trish’s favorite Teddy Bear pinned under his paws, the stuffing knocked out of it.
“Oliver! No! Bad boy!”
Oliver slowly released the plush rag. He sat up, his tail curled around his butt and his head dipped submissively.
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

Jeffrey

Arthur always loved going to the teddy bear factory. His parents never quite understood his fascination with watching the little bears get made. He never wanted to take one home, he just wanted to watch. He stood for hours watching the sewing machines, and the stuffing machines and the machine that put the eyes on. He never liked to watch them put the ears on because he said that hurt too much. Arthur always had been a strange little boy, but now that he owns the factory no one questions why he spends time there watching, waiting for Super Ted.

Planet Z

In the kitchen, Papa Buford’s getting the Thanksgiving Turducken all prepped and ready for cookin tonight.
Cornbread stuffing and yam, creole and jambalaya.
That all gonna be a big ol feast, but that bird in a bird in a bird is what we all want the most.
The turkey be dumb, he go down easy. Plucked and gutted.
The chicken, well, they be a chicken. Ain’t nothin special about it.
But the duck, boy did he put up a fight, Papa Buford chasin after him with a knife, duck shouting that AFLAC! over and over.
Can ya smell it?
Mmmmmmmmmmmyeah.