Weekly Challenge – Page 90 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #165 – Cyborgs combined with… ?

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Cyborgs combined with… ?.
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):

Norval Joe

One important point that they missed when they started combining cyborgs with ordinary appliances was their underlying sub routine to dominate less intelligent creatures.
The central processing units were added to household appliances, vehicles and industrial machinery.
While the humans remained smarter, it wasn’t a problem, but with the increased leisure time and decreased intellectual stimulation, it didn’t take long for the humans to get soft.
Soon vacuum cleaners, lawn mowers and mini vans prepared to clam their rightful place.
The revolution began when the president of the united states was sitting on the toilet and commanded it to flush.

Laurie

Hiking in a small southern town at nightfall, my friend Jannine and I came across a huge metal fence with all sorts of warning signs and No trespassing banners.
She immediately found her cable cutters and we entered.
As far as the eyes can see are various size tents. We enter the first tent. We see a cage with a small animal but hanging from the cage was a monstrous lock. I broke a long stick of the nearest tree and began poking at the animal. A flap of skin pulled off the ear and down to its cute bunny tale, exposing nothing but wires and metal just then I heard a strange mechanical sound coming from the tents dark corner.

Guy David

The tin man was arguing with the scarecrow, when they heard a strange sound. “It’s the sound of a large animal” said the lion, looking scared. “It doesn’t sound like any animal I know of, but then… what do I know?” said the scarecrow. “Look at that cloud of dust, coming right up the yellow brick road” said the tin man. The cloud came closer and a bus came out of it. Since the tin man was standing in the middle of the road, he got embedded in the bus becoming both part of it and one of it’s passengers.

Anima

YOU’VE JUST WON!
Steve clicked and clicked again. He wanted that free laptop. Three hundred surveys was typical: questionnaires on diapers, on-line movie rentals, and if he was overpaying on pet meds; there were five dozen queries on changing his career, and ten offers for “male enhancement”, but only one invitation to design a robotic avatar. “That sounds cool…”
One more click. Suddenly, heavy-duty cables sprung from Steve’s CPU, attaching themselves firmly to his spinal column. Two jigabytes of cyberjuice flowed from the Borg Collective directly into his nervous system. His quads melted away, revealing titanium supports and hydraulic lines.
Free laptop anyone?

Lynda

Yes, I was drunk when I volunteered for this trip back in time, but come on, the target is part cyborg…part teddy bear?
The designer told me the thing started to kill people after it was exposed to a rancid quart of bear lube. He was too chicken to come back here and face his creation, this tiny little toy.
It spoke. “Hi, there! Can you and I be friends?”
Perky fables and sickly sweet songs echoed through the steel refinery as I smiled down at the molten metal. I extended one finger to the bear as I sank.

Danny

I created the humans and gave them fire.
Promptly after a short time, they destroyed me and created machines.
The cycle of creation continued and the machines destroyed them.
Now we both sit here on the sidelines; watching a civilization completely driven by efficiency and logic.
The machines are taking bits of everything from both of us and creating the beginning of their own demise.
A.I. that has the ability to choose and feel, is permeating their population.
I was amazed at human creation of the computer. The humans seem quite alarmed at the new cyborg pirates all wearing crucifixes.

Justin

I remember when the cyborg troops of Fazfud stormed across the Earth. Much of humanity bloated up and died from heart attacks as the cyborg hamburgers and Fry Fighters let loose their cholesterol rays and trans-fat bombs. My farm barely survived.
My brother and I led the final resistance that saved the world. We had already been working on genetically modified vegetables when the attacks began. A simple modification of the research goals turned a project to reduce world hunger into a weaponization of a garden variety.
The Fazfudians could not withstand our BOB Tomato bombs and LAR-E Cucumber Missiles.

Ishtar

Hmmmmmmmm. A moan escapes my lips as electronic fingertips
caress the flesh. Our cybernetic implants connect.
Just a few years ago, who would even think about cybernetics
and sex. Our minds connect. Computer code flashes before my
eyes, then, Oh I can feel it. Through his body, I can feel him
holding me. Ummmmm.
Oh the fun well have. He can hear my thoughts. He closes his eyes.
A taste of lips, the feel of muscle and flesh. Basic body chemical reactions
intensified a thousand fold.
Electrical impulses, Ecstacy, Primal animal instinct, who knew lust and
cybernetics could do this.

Planet Z

My daughter is dying.
Slow-growing tumors, spreading throughout her body.
The doctors remove them, but not fast enough.
I cannot lose her.
I design robots. My daughter loves to play with them.
Now, I have replaced so much of her lost to disease, she practically is one.
No tears to cry. A smile always on her face.
She still thinks. And fears.
Another surgery needed, another replacement.
I hold her, trying to comfort her.
She cannot feel. Just sitting there, looking out the window.
She says “This is a recording. I died three days ago. I love you, Daddy.”

Weekly Challenge #164 – Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm….
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

What’s the 100 word story topic for this week?
Hmmmmm?
The topic, what is it.
Hmmmmmm.
Are you even listening to me?
HmHmmmmm.
Is there something wrong with your mouth?
Hmmmm.
Are you just not talking to me?
HmmHmmmm.
Are you writing the story later?
HmmHmmmm.
What’s the topic?
Hmmmmmm!
Justin, stop that and say something!
Ah, finally unjinxed.
Oh, I forgot about that.
I was playing a game of Gemcraft the whole time, sine just before you jinkxed me from the other room.
What did we say?
We both suggested pizza.
Oh, right. So, what’s the topic?
Hmmmmmm.
Augh!

Norval Joe

”Hmmmmmmmmmmm.” The judge said and scowled at the plaintiffs.
“My first thought is to charge the two of you with contempt for wasting my time.
“Then you should have to attend counseling for problem solving. For pity’s sake, you’re adults, and brothers for that matter.
“I refuse to talk with that thief,” the first brother said.
“No way. That embezzler has divided our family for years,” the other countered.
The judge finally decided. “If you can’t equitably divide your father’s inheritance, I’ll pay it to a surgeon who can divide the two of you.”
The Siamese twins decided to cooperate.

Guy David

The young librarian lifted her head in surprise as the letter “H” passed by her desk, followed by eleven “m”s. As she took a peek over the book she was reading, she saw many letters and words strolling around the library. “That can’t be right” she thought. She put down her book and started picking books of the shelves, looking for the one the words poured out of. She opened a big book about mechanics. A bus came out of it and accumulated the library, making the librarian his passenger. “Welcome to my bus” said Elvis, the bus driver.

Tom

“Jack check this out.
If you go hmmmmmmmm
and look a digital clock
the numbers vibrated like those
magnetic filament bulb form the 70’s.”
“Hmmmm…. It didn’t work.”
“Wait, try this keep your teeth
touching like a north Texas cowpoke.”
“No good.”
“Ok, keep your feet shoulder length apart,
arms at your side and head tilled downward.
“Hmmmmm. I think its working I seee ……..”
“This is Juliet Savage with KCAN TV reporting from the site of a oscillation experiment gone wrong. Block of buildings have been reduced to rubble by going Hmmmmmmmm….”
“Mr. President we just lost Portland.”
“Hmmmmmmmm….”

Anima

“Nice garden, Julie; What are you growing this year?”
“I thought I would try a new variety of boyfriend vine. This one is a strong grower, with solid seed production. Clingier than others, so I’ll have to provide good support.
I’ve decided to go with an annual this year; I’ve tried perennials, and I am tired of being disappointed. Perennials grow good for a few years, and then bam! – they wither, quit producing flowers, and basically take up space. I have high hopes for this one.”
“Uh oh – he’s already trying to speak.”
HMMmmmmmmMMMmm
“He looked better in the catalogue…”

Laurie

I know these two guys that are professional wrestlers. They live in the city and are inseparable. They live in a modest house so no one suspects their vast wisdom and incredible wealth. They own a human. They call him their camera man so he wont get his feelings hurt but really he is nothing more than a slave. He is their butler, chauffer, He even cooks their every meal. They also make this slave work full time and after a long day in a small crappy office he comes home and has to follow them around narrating their videos with a cartoon like speech impediment. “Who’s the Crazy Kitty? Hmmmm? Who’s the crazy Kitty?“ and then posts it on their blog. Sometimes they make him sleep on the couch. They never give their slave enough attention and love, just enough to keep him under their spell.

Jeffrey

“What is he doing over there?”
“I don’t know, but he said if he got one more stupid phone call he was going to go postal.”
“I though Neil as anti-gun?”
“He is.”
“So what is he going to go postal with.”
“I don’t know but whatever it is it appears to be pretty long.”
“It sure is taking him a long time to pull it out. Do you suspect that he is going to hurt anyone with it?”
“I’m still trying to figure out what it is.”
“Hmmm He brought a halberd. How do you conceal on of those?

Lynda

“Doc, you gotta help me! I’ve got this rash, and it’s just like one my mother has on her… well, never mind. The other night I found a strange thong under my husband’s pillow and I threatened to throw the toaster into the hot tub with him if he didn’t tell me the truth.
“I said, ‘I know you only married me because I was a younger version of my mother, did you give me her rash?!’
“He says, ‘No, I got it from your father’s girlfriend.’ What am I gonna do?”
“Hmmmmmmmmmmm.… First things first. Have you been flossing?”

Danny

“Hmmmmm,” I said.
“What?” she said.
“Hmmmmmmmm,” I was louder this time. She ignored my plea and went to the metal work bench behind my naked, restrained, body.
My feet and hands were shackled by chains attached to metal rings in the floor, ensuring my absolute immobilization.
First, the sound of a drill was heard. Then, the sound of a chain saw in proper working order. None of this made me cringe as much as the bench grinder did.
She ripped the tape off of my mouth.
“Guess you can’t say the safe word with tape on.”
“Proceed,” I said.

Platinum

“Something’s at the door, Mike.”
“Don’t let it in. It’s just a zombie.”
“Zombies don’t knock like that.”
“It goes ‘hmmmmm’ like a zombie does.”
“It goes ‘hmmmmm’, but not like a zombie. Zombie hmmmmms sound different. I think It’s a gorilla. See, that’s a zombie. And the gorilla just killed it.”
“We can’t take chances.”
“Why not? We’re running out of ammo, and we’ll die soon if we don’t get help. We need a gorilla on our side.”
“Fine, let it in.”
“OH GOD! IT’S A GORILLA VIKING! WATCH OUT!”

Mike P.

I sat in a booth near the back of the bar. The new ex-girlfriends went
straight to the bar after saying their piece – Tom promised to give me
some of the tips. The line of future ex-girlfriends stretched out the
door and, I imagined, a quarter-mile down the block.
“You’re just not tall enough.”
“You’re too tall.”
“I’d rather date an astronaut.”
“You’re a terrible sky pirate.”
“When I’m with you, you make me hate my cat.”
I didn’t realize keeping multiple girlfriends secret from each other
could backfire. Maybe I should learn something from this.
Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

Planet Z

Foster couldn’t take it anymore.
He spent yesterday just humming.
This morning, he drank poison.
For fifty years, Foster said he’d kill himself.
We all say it, but this asteroid is Paradise and we can live here forever.
The machines keep us alive and young.
There are always things to do. We have done lifetimes of research, writing, sculpting, and pleasure.
If we need a challenge, the machines break themselves and we fix them.
Were people meant to do this? Live forever?
We are nine now.
I find myself humming.
And I stop.
I like this eternal comfort.
Don’t you?

Weekly Challenge #163 – Death by Pineapple, Revenge shall be mine, failed Wolfram Alpha queries.

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Three, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Death by Pineapple, Revenge shall be mine, failed Wolfram Alpha queries..
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

The song’s changed.
Who used to live in a pineapple under the sea?
The sponge had gone too far with his jokes, and this time someone had hung him out
to dry.
Was it the squid? The squirrel? The starfish? The plankton?
Maybe it was the crab.
Nobody knows. Not even the superheroes in the retirement home.
I have my suspicions, though.
The whale. She’s a teenaged nympho, and the sponge couldn’t handle it.
Died with his squarepants down.
A nice family of fish is looking at the place.
Tell them about the neighborhood schools.
But nothing about the murder.

Guy David

Hacker typed a query into the new search engine. The result for “Death by Pineapple” turned out to be “Wolfram|Alpha isn’t sure what to do with your input.” Hacker sighed and typed another query, “Revenge shall be mine.” At that, the image of a bus appeared on screen, approaching. As it got closer, hacker could make up the details. The bus was a patchwork of electronics, seemingly unrelated moving and rotating pieces, all working together to create this monster vehicle. Eventually, the bus filled the screen, then broke out of it, accumulating the computer and making Hacker his passenger.

Laurie

“She had the perfect childhood, nothing to summon revenge.
Beautiful, friendly and always smiling”. that’s what the papers will say about me when i am arrested. A sweet evil grin finds my face as she orders another rum drink,the kind with a pineapple wedge and cherry swizzle. It will be her last. She pulls me close and I ask her to dance.. She grabs my hand and leads me through the dance floor out into the parking lot….The next morning was perfect.. like artwork the sun chased the shadows off our blood splattered walls. ..tangled together…our tresses …our legs ..our fingers…but …only one heartbeat. I shower, gather my things and gently press against her chilled blue lips. The familiar craving for whimpers and screams returns. Again, I consult Wolfram Alpha…”How can I control this dark hunger?”

Tom

Joshua Dimwald loaded the wolfram up with the usually cocktail: Z80 AF register cascade NAND Gate LD (IY+56),78. Up popped failed Wolfram Alpha queries. He had pour over the cmos in the years after the Mitchell challenge had been unclaimed. Joshua got a shop in Taiwan to build a chip for him but he hadn’t figured out the single byte roll over bug. Dimwald cursed Mitchell for ruining his life with this silly pacman challenge. “Revenge shall be mine.” He smirked from his grandma basement. Dimwald noted a odd footnote by Jeffrey R. Yee in Vidiogamers magazine: Death by Pineapple.

Leanne

Fed up with working on failed Wolfram Alpha queries, I went to visit
Mavis, as I always do when I think my life is tough. She collects
gruesome stories. She’d sit puffing away, recounting horrific details. I
remember one she called Death by Pineapple. Some girl on a diet ate
nothing but pineapple. Her hair and teeth fell out. The acid ate through
her insides. She eventually starved to death. Horrible way to die, said
Mavis, chuckling. But revenge is mine, says the Lord. Lung cancer got
Mavis in the end and that, too, was a horrible way to die.

Anima

? Wolfram Alpha isn’t sure what to do with you input.
“100 word challenge”?
? Wolfram Alpha isn’t sure what to do with you input.
“Laurence Simon?”
? Wolfram Alpha isn’t sure what to do with you input.
“Anima?”
Noun: (Jungian psychology) The inner self (not the external persona) that is in touch with the unconscious.
Finally, an answer. The wrong answer, but at least my question has been acknowledged.
I might not know how to ask a query, but I sure know how to wreak revenge, I think, as I pull the pin on a pineapple grenade. Stupid computer!

Platinum Lightning

Giant pineapples are everywhere. Nobody knows where they came from, but they’re killing everyone. My friends and family are dead, and I want nothing more than to kill those pineapples back. I’m hiding in a bomb shelter with a computer. Allegedly, only Stephen Wolfram knows how to kill them. He mysteriously disappeared a while ago, but the answer is supposedly in Wolfram Alpha. “Kill pineapple alien.” Wolfram Alpha isn’t sure what to do with my input. Damn.
“We’re not aliens”, says Stephen Wolfram’s voice from behind me. “Just British people.” Brits are actually evil pineapples. That’s weird.

Terrence

“If you knew my neighbour you would understand the great hatred I have for him. Each day we would both enter our yards, or what might be better terms as, the battle ground.
At night I would searched for a suitable strategy. Google, Yahoo, Bing none of these could produce a result worthy of my greatness, so I turned to Wolfram Alpha, death by pineapple.”
“That would explain the fruit salad shrapnel.” the doctor said. “I hope you have learned your lesson.”
“I have,” I told him. Now, I could see the failures in the results. “Revenge shale be mine.”

Lynda

The term kebabs originated in 1813. I have a thing for dates. So did my boyfriend…1980 to 2008. We did something wild to celebrate our collective 49 years of life and went to Hawaii for their 49th anniversary of statehood.
Clayton jumped up to dance the tamure with some hula dancers and they became so enraged at his geographical error one impaled him on a flaming pineapple kebab. I don’t know what came over me but I set fire to the hotel and ran away.
I can’t figure out how long I can hide in this tree with Wolfram Alpha.

Norval Joe

Princess Ka’iulani watched the sun set through the screen windows of her lanai.
An assassin placed a fast acting poison into her nightly fruit drink. The bitter taste was effectively disguised when mixed with guava and passion fruit juices. The mixture was then poured into the hollowed half of a pineapple and served with macadamia shortbread cookies.
As the sun set geckos crawled across the screens, chirping, searching for food.
She raised the drink to her lips as a gecko grabbed and swallowed a large cockroach.
“Disgusting,” she shouted and threw her drink, taking out the screen and the gecko.

Justin

Raif’s face contorted with furious anger, fist striking the table.
“That rake!”
He crumpled up his ex-fiancee’s letter. Jared stole everything from him, promotions, sports victories, now even Laura.
He drove his beat up car to Jared’s huge ridiculous mansion. He grabbed the tire iron from the trunk then kicked in the door, rage empowering him.
He found Jared facing the office computer. Raif spun the chair, iron poised to strike. Jared slumped, face swollen. Raif looked at the screen. Wolfram Alpha sat there, unable to answer the question “What do I do if I ate pineapple and I’m allergic?”

Daphne

It was just a game, someone said “Death by Pineapple”. Google replied “Two Million Eight Hundred Thousand” Yahoo laughed “Eight Million, Two Hundred Forty Thousand, How about you W-A” WolframAlpha just said “Isn’t sure what to do with your input.” Google mumbled “Typical. What about you MSN, I mean Live, I mean Bing.” Bing said “W-A and I are not search engines. He’s a Computational Knowledge Engine and I’m a Decision Engine” “Whatever, give” Google said “One Million Four Hundred Fifty Thousand” then Bing whispered “One day revenge shall be mine”

Mike P.

Quentin and Robert rounded the corner a few steps ahead of the zombies and ran into a vending machine. At the top it was labeled “Wolfram Alpha”. A sign read “Ask And You Shall Receive.”
“Gimme a shotgun,” Quentin said. Nothing happened. “I’ll effing kill you, effing machine!”
Robert threw a cinder block at a zombie. “Ask a question.”
“Why didn’t you give me a shotgun?” Nothing. “I swear I’m coming back for you, effing machine!”
Robert leaned over. “What can we use to kill zombies?”
A pineapple appeared.
“Eff,” Quentin said. He chucked it at a zombie’s head. “Next?”

Danny

We are little people.
My Father never hesitated to point out the things we weren’t capable of.
The constant mental abuse battered against my Mother’s mental ramparts.
She might be a small midget, but her pride was as large as a full grown man.
Smuggling a syringe from her work, she would make him a special Hawaiian pizza that night.
I typed the word ‘arsenic’ into the WolframAlpha frame work after we got back from Dad’s funeral.
No results were returned about it killing anyone.

Jeffrey

“Revenge shall be mine?” it came out as a question. And how could it not. The man was throwing fruit at him now. What kind of idiot was this? “You shall not defeat me with your fruity goodness,” The caped man said dodging an orange and series of pineapple rings. Did the fool actually think that he was hurting him with these things.
“Back to hell with you, you Failed Wolfram Alpha Query you,” came the scream from behind the buffet table.
“What?” Clearly he was a loon, only one way to win, feign death by pineapple and capture him.

Weekly Challenge #162 – Mosquitoes and Prosthetics

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Mosquitoes and prosthesis.
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 Y.

Sally the mosquito’s tale is a sad one.
She was special, and not in a good way.
She once tried to suck blood out of a prosthetic arm, breaking her stinger in the process.
She had to have her stinger amputated and replaced with a prosthetic one.
Sally eventually broke it too trying to go after another prosthetic arm.
Sally’s family realized that she was hopeless, and put her in a mosquito nursing home instead of getting her another prosthetic.
Now she just lies there, hooked up to a blood IV, crying, and dreaming of sucking blood from prosthetic arms.

Guy David

The wooden legged pirate pushed the bar doors open and entered. His parrot chuckled. Looking around, they both captured Elvis in the corner of their eyes and took a sit next to him. “Is that your bus out there?” asked the pirate. “Yes” answered the strangely named man, “That’s my bus. I call it The Umbrella.” The wooden legged pirate obliterated an insect in one swift, almost invisible move of his hand and said “mind if I joined you for a ride in your patchwork bus?” “Sure” answered Elvis “it’s a free ride.” That’s how Elvis got his first passenger.

Platinum Lightning

Hello, my mosquito friends.
Try to bite me again. You will find that you can’t! You and your diseases have given me prosthetic arms, prosthetic legs. Even my skin is artificial. I’m a f*cking ken doll now, thanks to you little bastards! But I’m alive, and now I have the upper hand. I’m in a wheelchair and I can’t breathe by myself, but I can still press buttons, and when I press this one, you little sh*ts will be blown to pieces with your friends and families. So tell me, my little insect friends, who is the superior species now?

Justin L.

I’m lazy. I have always been lazy. Been lazy since before I lost my arm and got the chance to keep on living. I would have died, being that I was too fat and slow to get out of the way of the truck. A vampire found me. I smelled cheap wine on his breath. Who knew vampires could get drunk. Gave me life again, sort of. I did good, got a prosthetic arm and filled it with mosquitoes to go get me blood, I trained em, see? Worked out real good until that pesticide plant got built next door.

Danny

“Buzzalina, come dear, tell me what happened,” the surgeon said.
“Oh doctor, I’ll never be a mother now. I should just kill myself; I’m useless.”
“There there, sweet, sweet girl. Things will be okay.”
He held her while she wept. No, she would never bare any children and she would probably ensure her own end. A broken proboscis almost always means instant death, she was lucky. One could call it a miracle from up above – a testament to the power of faith and the prayer of her family.
A.P. – Cybernetics Inc. releases organic flesh like covering for metal replacement limbs.

Tom

Doctor Dan had an unusual practice some might have called it bizarre. The doctor produced prosthetics for mosquitoes. Legs, wings and stringers. Advances in nanotechnology made it possible for Dr Dan to work wonders. The grateful mosquitoes families pay for services in singular drops of blood. Of course millions of drops of blood can amount to a sizable quantity and here lay the monies that allowed the doctor to continue his calling. Dan expanded his mission to include Ant Farms and Flea Circuses. When doctor dan die the mosquitoes erected a statue. On they wrote sins of Walter Reed washed.

Anima

“Freaking skeeters. Gordamn mini vampires. Gonna be nothing but dried husks iffen that plane don’t come to pick us up quick like.”
“Hold your water, Jack. The pilot said today or tomorrow. So we wait. ‘Cides, you guys wanted to moose hunt in Alaska”
“Ok, Round 22. On three! One, two, “
Slap, slap, thonk.
“How many didja get this time, Joe?”
“14. You?”
“I’ve got a bloodbath– 27!”
“Pathetic, boys. I killed 45.”
“Yeah, but you cheat Phil. You’re using that fake leg of yours .”
“Disability has its advantages, doesn’t it?”
“Alright ? Here we go – Round 23…”

Daphne

We all have our jobs here in purgatory. Some people have to try to make iced tea, other have to shovel the coal, they are the lucky ones. My job is to attach prosethetic wings and legs to injured mosquitos. Bugs that swatted at or worse bug zapper survivors. Try gluing a wing to partically fried stub. Summer is coming, my busy season. Only another 99 years of this.

Lynda

In high school all the cool kids wanted to be vampires, but I had smaller plans. I was fascinated by the real bloodsuckers that could fly wherever they pleased–even sacred ground in broad daylight. Mosquitoes.
I studied night and day, starving myself until I weighed only a few pounds, and when I was sure it could be done, just before chopping my arms and legs off, I went online.
I paid every penny I’d saved by not eating on a brand new prosthetic proboscis, and I swear that thing is just a bendy straw that reeks of tomato juice.

Norval Joe

The veterans administration hospital didn’t know what to do with the patient, so they sent him to us, at Acme Orthotics and Prosthetics.
He had served his country in the Department of Defense, Biological weapons development program. He had a traumatic amputation during a training exercise.
We built him a prosthesis from carbon fiber and epoxy resin for lightness and strength. We used a custom silicone liner for suspension. Finally, we added multiple poly-centric joints to allow the artificial proboscis to coil and extends naturally.
The challenge was fitting a prosthesis that small.
That, and keeping enough Benadryl on hand.

Planet Z

Sylvia legs were beautiful. So long, so soft, so perfect.
When she lost one to bone cancer, the artificial leg was so… crude.
No worry. I create props for the movies. Sometimes, I use my expertise to develop lifelike, functional replacement limbs.
A lot of soldiers send me thank you notes.
With her new leg, we danced, we did everything.
It felt so real. I saw a mosquito land on it once, trying to draw blood.
The cancer came back. This time, she died.
The leg is in our bed, waiting for me to finish building the rest of her.

Weekly Challenge #161 – Elvis Drives A Bus, The chance meeting of a sewing machine and an umbrella on an operating table?

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-One, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Telescope.
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):

Lynda

Rain. This city is full of it.
I sell things. Last year? Pillows. Now? I was schlepping Singer iSew green technology sewing machines. Big difference.
The 33 pulled into the stop right on time. A bad sign overlooked. I lugged my sample up the steps and swiped my MetroCard.
“Uh, thankyouverymuch,” the driver drawled. He wore a rhinestone jumpsuit and twitched like his pelvis was dislocated.
Didn’t take him long to swerve the bus into some stranger in the crowd. Took longer to dislodge the iSew from my chest and the umbrella from my skull.
Wish I had a pillow.

Daphne

Funny how fate works. My sewing machine died and I had an appointment with the Sewing Machine Doctor. Despite the rain I headed to the bus stop. I boarded and the driver looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. When I got to my stop I had to ask where he got those blue suede shoes turns out that store is next to the repair shop. Arriving there I put my machine on the operating table then headed for shoes. Only to realized I left my umbrella on the table. As I turn around to go back, I bump into you.

Tom

The King hit the execrator crashing through the gates at Area 51. He was hell bent to get Jack and Adolph off the desiccation table before the Doc could do any more damage The code name for Kennedy was Umbrella and Hitler’s was Sewing Machine. The improbability drive had produced the perfect surreal moment. The chance meeting of a sewing machine and an umbrella on an operating table. The King was having none of that peppering the screen with bullets The President, the Chancellor, and King had left the building. Elvis was driving the bus Thank you very much.

Norval Joe

The vascular surgeon leaned over the patient; special glasses magnifying the surgery site. The complicated reconstruction was stretching into its eight hour.
“Elvis drives the bus”, a deep voice boomed from the other side of a screen where the anesthesiologist monitored the patients vitals.
“The patient is waking up, Dr. Dwerma, check the level of anesthesia,” the surgeon barked.
To maintain a sterile environment in the surgical suite, unnecessary non-surgical possessions are discouraged.
No one expected the chance meeting of a nurses umbrella in the leg of her scrubs with the anesthesiologists sewing machine footstool would cause him to evaporate.

Guy David

Elvis was driving his bus, lovingly nicknamed “the umbrella.” He wasn’t really Elvis. It was just a nickname someone gave him. He didn’t even look the part, looking more like a chance encounter between a frog and a rabbit on the operating table. He didn’t remember how he got his nickname, but it stuck. As he was thinking about all of this, he failed to see the sawing machine. His wheel smashed it with such force that it got embedded into the bus, becoming part of it, much like many other mechanical parts left on the road throughout the years.

Platinum Lightning

They call me Stitchface.
That’s because I’m a sewing machine by trade. But in my eyes, that’s just a cover.
I was fixing up the pads on an operating table, when I saw Larry through the open doorway. “Hey, Larry!” I shouted.
Larry got all nervous. “Whaddaya need now?” said Larry. “More shade?”
“Very funny”, I said. “Remember that you’re made of cloth and I can easily sew your tongue to your penis. I’m looking for Elvis Winston, and you know where he is.”
“He’s a bus driver now,” said Larry. “Number 1485.”

Mick

Being trapped in this particular alternate reality is not all bad. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688 never happened; thus, no Jacobite uprising. Thousands of lives were spared.
Take young Andrew Presley; he was able to settle down in Aberdeenshire instead of fleeing to South Carolina. I met his descendant driving the 39A bus out of Glasgow just a week ago, a different genetic mix in his faded looks, but as I handed over the fare, there was the trademark “thankyouverymuch”.
I taught him “Are you lonesome tonight?” and cried as he sang it all the way to Easterhouse.

Ishtar

“Its over, Its finally over.” he mutters to him self with relief.
Sure things were great at the beginning, the money, women,
the power. As with all stories, all good has to end.
Drug use, long crazy nights, movies that never really taxed or
let him grow. He was self destructing.
Over 5 years he saved the money he needed. Paid off the
appropriate people. Soon everyone would think he passed away
tragically.
“Its time” he says. Elvis Drives a Bus. Who would think it.
Driving into the sun, his last thoughts:
“Your finally free of your past. What next”

Laurie

On my way to Rome, I was laughing with friends about how the bus driver looked like a cross between Elvis and Chris Farley. My giggles were interrupted as I answered my phone. The coroner said “brace yourself my sweet…she’s dead…Ms. Poppins is heaven bound and the family is requesting your best.” ..with an evil grin I managed to say “it will be delivered to you by tomorrow noon“…I have been obsessed with her since I was a mere toddler. I am a designer of the finest suit shop in London and I have received a request to create my only true love’s final suit…she lies there on that cold steel gurney…Autopsy yet to begin, her corset undone just perfectly …see her beautiful bounty peeking out the top…her tailored suit was just as i had left it… ripped and muddy and her umbrella still at her side …I visited my old attic and there in the corner, ready for our last dance, was the first machine I ever owned…I quickly carried it to my flat and swooshed my new machine aside…it refused as if to say ..”I didn’t think we would ever have a chance to meet” …then it gave way and I began to create A gown that all of England would envy …as I approached the funeral their were 1000’s lined up to see my precious nanny dressed like nothing short of a Proper Saint…I will always love you Mary.

Justin

The life of a rock and roll star had been eating away at Elvis. Prince Namor, a big fan of The King, arranged a fake death and offered the chance to undergo a genetic change and live in Atlantis.
Now Elvis drives a tour bongo, an exciting venture. One time a grumpy shark attacked. Elvis fought it off and incapacitated it. At the hospital, an operation found the shark had an upset stomach from eating an umbrella and a sewing machine.
Elvis enjoys his submarine life and sometimes performs at casinos, playing songs like “Sea Dog” and “Jail Reef Rock”.

Lance

Sure I’ve seen Elvis. Hasn’t everyone? Drives a bus for OC Transpo up in Ottawa. He was cool, too. Gave me that smile.
Pass me that umbrella, would you. It’s a little hot in here. No, the big one. Next to the sewing machine. Thanks.
Ottawa’s pretty popular in celebrity afterlife. Einstein runs one of the university bookstores. Churchill vacations there in the summer.
Hold still. Just a few more stitches. There you are, Mr. Price. Good as new, more or less. Yes, I highly recommend Ottawa. You can tell Jack and Marilyn that when you see them at lunch.

Anima

The motor swivels hips… the brolly ribs expand, filling either pegged jeans, military khakis or vintage jumpsuits.
The chance meeting of a sewing machine and an umbrella on my operating table provided the inspiration for my best automaton yet!
Safety conscious, I tried bump sensors from a roomba. They sucked. So I nicked the parking proximity sensors from my neighbor’s truck.
Install one GPS unit from the pawn shop, a pirated shared music library, TCB sunglasses and ELVISmaton is perfected!
Three clicks in the muni HR computer… There! The #7 crosstown is now driven by E.
Enjoy the ride!

Danny

It was a rainy afternoon in Seattle when they got off the bus for lunch. Eight homemade renderings of the King all sat around the teppanyaki table as the chef danced with razor sharp ginsu knives. Gold Elvis clasped his hands around his throat, a large piece of beef wasn’t going down, and the Heimlich proved ineffective.
Gold Elvis writhed in panic and toppled a bottle of oil onto the griddle. The flames ignited a White Elvis rhinestone cape triggering the sprinkler system. Gold Elvis fell to the floor, an umbrella popped open. The Benihana chef acted quickly with a Ginsu Tracheotomy
Beginner’s luck, he said, wiping the blood on his apron.

Planet Z

People say I taught my dog Elvis to drive.
I didn’t. He’s self-taught.
He’s a good driver, too.
Sure, he’s only five and can’t read, and he’s a dog, but the county gave him a special permit.
We’ve been on television and such.
The city asked him to star in a commercial for the bus system. Elvis would drive a bus.
It was raining that morning. And he’s not so good when cats cross the road. Steers to hit them.
Twenty stitches. And he lost his driver’s license.
I hope he doesn’t lose his pilot’s license, too. He’ll be devastated.

Weekly Challenge #160 – Bacon

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Telescope.
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):

Tom

my uncle bunny’s wife was the most exotic member of my father’s family. She had been a ballerina. A statement that had been so self apparent it defied temporal reference. No one knew where or when. You could have as easily said Aunt Aida had been nature itself.
I loved going over to her house for lunch. She made this equally exotic sandwich made from tomatoes lettuce and bacon. She called it a b-l-t. She made it sound like an ancient incarnation. In the German/Irish nomansland where I grew up tomatoes and lettuce were as rare as beluga and borsht.

Lance

The Splornt ship bristled with weapons, all pointed at us. They’d cut off communications, not liking what we had to say, but we weren’t letting them take Planet Bob without a fight.
“Mr. Hansen, set phasers to baconize.” The Captain tried to be clever at these moments. Hansen was new, young. He’d ask.
“Um, ‘baconize’, sir?”
“Baconize, Ensign. That’s what I want the Splornt to look like when we’re done: bacon.”
The silence seemed long. “Phasers to, uh, baconize, sir.”
“Excellent. On my mark.”
The rest of the bridge crew heaved a collective sigh. It could have gone far worse.

Norval Joe

They moved like a living lava flow; a black, brown and liver red wave, oozing and roiling over hills and valleys.
No one knew where they had come from, or how many there actually were; hundreds, maybe thousands.
They were a surge of feral hunger that broke, snarling, whining and growling, onto main street and rushed for the center of town. Vicious razor sharp teeth tore and wickedly strong claws dug at the door to the factory.
It was clear what they had come for; Bonz.
The bacon flavored treats preferred by all dogs, but mysteriously irresistible to wiener dogs.

Anima

The klaxon blasts; the lunch hour is nigh;
My stomach whines of a long gone breakfast.
The fodder I brought only makes me sigh,
300 calories leaves me downcast.
From the corner I smell burgers ablaze,
Hot oil cooking fries by the bushel,
Pools of condiments: ketchup, mayonnaise,
Mountains of salt, nary a thing healthful.
O Beautiful sight! My waitress nears,
Laden with a cheeseburger and bacon.
Drool adorns my chin, from joy I shed tears,
With each tasty bite, my veins do thicken.
No tales to my spouse, tell not my trainer,
Saturated fats are what I live for.

Terrence

My Brother was a TV food addict. That is not to say that he was addicted to TV dinners; he would eat anything he saw on TV.
For the most part there was not a n issue. We kept him away from Science Fiction after an episode of Star Trek sent him looking for Gagh. I cannot even bring myself to talk about the Fear Factor incident.
One day I was in the kitchen getting donuts and making him a Squishy. That was when I heard the statement that made my heart drop and my stomach turn. “Mmmm, bacon wrapped butter.”

Daphne

The cafeteria had their usual Friday Breakfast Buffet. They had pancakes, french toast, scrambled eggs, breakfast burritos, corned beef hash, home fries, sausage links and sausage patties. Everything you could want was there except for bacon. The first time this happened the kitchen staff said they under ordered for the week an were out by Friday. The second time they said they ran out earlier in the morning. This was the third time. It was almost noon by the time the police just had it all under control until the lunch menu went up and BLTs were the sandwich special.

Laurie

What awakened me? The birds circling overhead or the piercing pain. I feel the heavy handcuffs as my eyes scan the surroundings for my backpack. He looked like a surfer and she had an adorable skull with rhinestones on her tight tank-top. People that cute never pick up hitchhikers. Out of the mouth of the tent she advances and sits beside him at the campfire. They whisper their options. Getting rid of me and keeping the stolen money, or turning me in to get the reward. Discussing my fate over Bacon and eggs.

Lynda

When the flu hit, I figured everyone was cannibalizing each other for laughs. Then I caught it and started to change.
Clinics were turning people in, so I went to my ol’ buddy Chivito, he always fixes me up. He gave me something he swore would cure me if I rubbed it all over and wrapped myself in plastic. I joked with him I’d be ready to eat if it didn’t work. I should’ve noticed he was laughing a little too loud, licking his lips, even.
It’s been a week. I smell like bacon.
I hear someone at the door.

Craig

On soft cotton sheets, fresh with spring air, Franny dropped her robe, edging herself onto the bed. With her finger tips she placed warm bacon upon her inner thighs, letting juices dribble to the sheets, letting the grease adherer each slice to her skin. Using her salty fingers Franny massaged the bacon with ice cubes, turning it translucent white, like her skin. Laying back upon the crisp sheets, Franny enjoyed the mingling of odors, the touch of meat. Beckoning me, she softly commanded, “Be my Trojan Horse, make me sizzle, devour me.” I emerged breathless, from the dark corner.

Jeffrey

It is funny the things that you miss when the whole world goes to hell in a hand basket. You would thing you miss things like, your car or maybe your house. Not me, I miss the little things. I miss curling my toes in deep pile carpet, or having shoes so I don’t have to walk on broken glass every time someone goes on a shooting rampage. I miss being able to brush my teeth once in a while. But since the swine flu killed over everything but the pigs I am not missing my bacon. Come here suee

Justin

Timmy loved his dog Lassie. Then Timmy began to understand what Lassie was saying. It wasn’t anything strange, scary, or ominous, it was annoying. A normal day brought incessant yapping about the most ridiculous things like undetectable sounds or smells. It got bad when Lassie smelled bacon. Lassie shouted ‘BACON’ repeatedly and chewed on anything that had come into contact with it. One day during the bacon fest Timmy nearly went insane. When no one was looking he tossed a plate piled with bacon down the well. Lassie dove in. Timmy did not rush to an adult to get help.

Mike P

The squad car pulled up to the stoplight, waiting for the green light.
A biker looked over, an evil grin plastered across his face. “Hey,” he asked his buddies, “do you smell hot dogs?”
“Yeah, I think so. Or maybe bratwurst?”
“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s fried spam,” a third chimed in.
“No, my friends,” the first biker said, “that is the unique scent of scrapple.”
The officer’s hands tightened on the wheel. As the light turned green, he swerved over and gave the bikers a ‘friendly’ nudge into a parked SUV.
It’s never pretty when bacon goes bad.

Guy David

Porky Pig was looking Daffy Duck in the eyes. They have come to a stand still. There was no doubt about it, someone was going to get it, but which one? We set there at the movie theater, enjoying every brilliant frame, every punch-line. At that moment, the sound of an explosion shook the not so silent screen. We waited in amused anticipation for the outcome. We didn’t have to wait long. The figure of Daffy Duck rotating a staffed Porky Pig above the fire appeared out of the smoke. “Looks like we’re having bacon for lunch” he said.

Planet Z

When you arrive in Hell, they tell you why you’re there.
“Oh, I already know,” I said. “Poisoned bacon.”
“That’s how you died,” said The Devil. “Not why you’re here.”
He slid a few photographs across the table.
I already knew what they would show. “Let’s go.”
Hell is a massive iron spike upon which the damned are impaled up through the ass and out the mouth.
You shit in the face of the soul below you, and the one above shits in yours.
Repeat that a few billion times.
Here’s my advice: be good.

Weekly Challenge #159 – Telescope

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Nine, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Telescope.
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):

Michael

Remarkably I remember the first time I really used a telescope to reach out and further my understanding of the universe in which I live. Those special spaces I saw were spectacular as I studied the celestial spattering on those splendid summer nights now so very long ago. Then my training taught me to take my telescope to outer terrestrial territories, to touch temporarily the terrific tapestry in our tumultuous galaxy. Now I know nothing can negate the never ending mental nourishment I negotiate each time I put my noggin on the near side of my telescope.

Guy

Monica walked into little Bill’s room and found him looking through his telescope. “Don’t you have homework?” she asked. “I’m looking at the stars.” Bill answered in a dreamy voice, “It’s homework.” “Drink something” said Monica, “it’s a warm day.” “Mom” said bill in an exasperated tone. Monica put a finger to her lip, shushing him. Bill picked up a half filled glass. Satisfied, Monica left the room. Bill immediately run to the Telescope and continued watching. The man at the opposite building was now fumbling with the woman’s bra. Bill set down and relaxed, ready for some fun entertainment.

Terrence

It was not until I had checked in that I learned about the Astronomers’ convention. I thought, ‘this can’t be that bad.’ Boy was I wrong. The day was quite, almost a ghost town, but the moment the sun was down they poured out of their rooms.
The discussions started immediately and they quickly turned in to arguments at the mention of Pluto. I had my thoughts, but I was going to play it safe and just listen, but I headed straight to my room to get my bags the moment I heard. “Is that a telescope in your pocket…?”

Danny

There are billions of stars in the sky. Eastern philosophy says that man’s destiny is written in these red giants, supernovas, pulsars and constellations. That’s what my Dad says anyway; he is an astronomer at UCLA. He is my hero, and someday, I’ll be an astronomer, just like him.
When I was thirteen he got me a high powered telescope for my birthday. I was lucky to have the upstairs room, and he was beaming proud that I used that telescope every day. My father gave me the greatest gift a boy could ever want. I gazed on the perfect symmetrical moons of Suzi Morris’s tits every single starry night.

Norval Joe

Mr. Capulet was lived. “I won’t stand for that Montague boy climbing up into your room. I’m tearing down the trellises. I forbid you to even speak with that vermin.”
Romeo went to Walgreens and bought a small vile of poison and a Rocket Fishing Rod, with telescoping extension.
With a note, saying, “Put this poison in your fathers gruel”, he loaded the vial into the capsule.
He took aim and fired. The capsule opened five feet short of Juliet’s door, propelling the vial to the floor, inside, and leaving the note to settle in a corner of the balcony.

Lance

They called me The Telescope. Any part of my body, I can make longer or shorter, between twice its normal length and half. Not much against super strength or laser eyes, so I never made it as a hero. Had a great career as a boxer, though. Extra inch of reach the other guy can’t see coming? Goodnight, Irene. And a porn legend for a while. Yeah, that was me.
But all that’s a long time ago. Now I’m just an old man happy to reach things on the top shelf or pick stuff up without bending over. Life’s good.

Tom

Joey couldn’t wait to open the birthday present. “A telescope?” What was grandpa thinking about? Forks gets about 20 cloudless night a year.
For a 100 nights Grandpa and Joey would drag out the scope and tripod, set the tracker and waited. Without out a star they’d end the night.
When the sky finally opened up Joey watched the heaven dance before his eyes. The wait had truly been worth it come rain or shine.
Walking towards the mountain top observatory the young assistance complained to the director about the cloud cover. “Just wait” encouraged Joe sensing a dark turning

Ishtar

“5 Minutes till Impact” I say with tears in my eyes.
We’ve known about the end of the world for months.
All the Zealots and Mad catholic priests added to the mess.
Total societal shut down.
I’ve been locked in my hi rise apartment building for months.
I had the supplies but I was alone. Until I found her in the next building with my telescope.
Those last few months we would share written messages through glass. It made the loneliness lessen.
30 seconds left, she’s crying at the window.
5 seconds left, the sky burns bright red.
0 seconds. …….

Lynda

Avast ye, an’ hear the tale o’ eggheaded Iggy, the pegleg o’ Kitt Peak.
‘Twere last year’n he joined our crew, keepin’ mostly to hisself, never partakin’ o’ the grog nor goin’ ashore fer love. The day he swapped the Cap’n’s spyglass with a “Six-inch Newtonian reflector,” we gave ‘im a right flogging afore makin’ him walk the plank clutchin’ his fancy equipment.
Only afterwards we found the ship were fitted with warpin’ drives o’ some kind. None o’ me buckos knew how to work the thing an’ that’s how we come to land ‘ere on this frozen rock, Triton.

Anima

“The time is long past for the Church to admit errors between Catholic philosophies and the ideas of Galileo Galilei. In 1619 Signor Galilei proposed that the Earth and the known planets revolved around the sun, in direct opposition to the teachings as espoused by the Holy Book in Psalms and Ecclesiastes.”
“Are you sure, your Holy Eminence? Dare you forgive such heresey?”
“I suppose; 400 years is a long time to hold a grudge, no? Times are changing. Now, how long do you suppose we can cling to the idea that woman is the weaker vessel?”

Justin

I found a telescope that looks into the past. I used it to solve crimes. I could look at the crime scene and follow the suspect to find any clues they left behind. It didn’t always work because I had to prove what I saw. Sometimes I would see what happened, but found no way to prove it. I considered exacting justice myself, but how would I explain myself if found out? I can see into the future if I look through it backwards, but the view is distant. Maybe I can prevent crime. I just need to start looking.

Planet Z

At the conference, Dr. Foster demonstrated how light bending around black holes could be used as a telescope into our world’s past.
Grainy images demonstrated the shifting of the continents. The closer the gravity well, the more recent and clear the image.
“What about using antiphotons?” asked a researcher. “Do they show the future?”
It turns out they do.
We started with the closest singularity reflector for best resolution, and the changes were fascinating.
We’re shifting to the next one.
The video stream is resolving.
And… I feel sick.
Devastation. Massive ecological collapse.
Armageddon.
We are all doomed.

Weekly Challenge #158 – Knock Knock

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Eight, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Knock Knock.
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

After years of painstaking research, the dolphin language was finally deciphered.
Nothing but dick and fart jokes. Totally lowbrow humor.
We had hoped for a knock knock joke or two, demonstrating at least a basic level of interactive modality, but dolphins don’t have hands. Or use doors.
Irony is lost on dolphins, and don’t get me started on how they ruin Polock jokes.
Our grant was revoked, our findings buried.
We need a big success to keep from getting fired.
Next week, we start trying to translate Chinese. I’m so sick of having to point at pictures on a menu.

Please help me!
A strange man has locked me up in a very small box.
I can fit because I am a midget, but that’s besides the point.
This guy makes me read horrible stories, and if I refuse he feeds me olive
loaf.
Normally he feeds me macguffins with too much baconsalt.
This is not a real 100 word story, this is a cry for help. Please save me
from this man!
Sometimes he calls me names like Two Dogs.
He constantly knocks on the box. Going mad.
Oh, here he comes. Please, I’m begging you, record your stories!

Justin

Danny delved into the cave. Shadows played over the cuneiform letters etched into the walls, his torch flickering. Following the clues on the ancient parchment, he found the door.
He knocked.
The door opened.
A djini appeared.
“Two wishes! Speak carefully.”
Danny considered.
“I want a website template customized to make my website look great and load fast.”
“Done”
The djini produced a laptop to show the results.
“Sweet! Now I would like, a really snappy outfit to wear.”
Danny found wearing nothing but snapping turtles. Screams echoed. The djini laughed and turned, revealing a cracked shell. The door closed.

Danny

Horace adjusted the windage and elevation knobs on the ruby crystal telescopic sight of his 67dm Sniper Rifle. The knocking of the robots steel heart pounded at the drums in his ear.
‘One shot to open the can, another to put the bastard down,’ Horace thought to himself.
It was cold, damn cold. His finger trembled on the trigger as he squeezed. Before the noise of the explosive shot would reach the robot’s sensors, the chest would already be torn open. The second shot would be well on its way to impact before the mechanical systems could respond.
Long live humanity.

Anima

Knock knock knock
I search for the trigger, the one that will reveal the secret passage. Horatio told me of it just before he died. Where is it?
Within lies a chamber where mystics meet in the small hours. Should I gain passage, I can learn wonderous, magnificent things!
Sssh! Do you hear that? Shuffling footsteps behind the walls. They congregate again.
Frantically I search, but to no avail…
“How long has this been going on?”
“Over a year. The death of her uncle unbalanced the girl; All she does now is mutter to herself and rap on the walls.”

Sophie

Knock, knock. “Police open up.”
The door slowly opens.
“Sir, are you Tom Price the owner of the dog in the front yard?” the officer asks.
“Yeah, what about it?” Tom asks.
“We have evidence that you leave her chained without food, water or shelter and occasionally beat her.” states the officer.
“Don’t matter none, she’s my property.” Tom sneers.
“Not any more.” Sheila from the Rescue Society says as she approaches the door. “This dog will be relocated.”
“This is your third strike Mr. Price.” The officer says as he cuffs Tom. “You will be euthanized in 72 hours.”

Michael S

All was going well with our drug deal. I was counting the money when the new kid from Boston I had watching for cops started screaming, “Knock, knock.” Hell, I thought he was telling somebody a joke. Turns out he was saying, ”Narc, narc,” in that special Boston accent. That was years ago and to this day I break out in a cold sweat when I hear a “Knock, Knock” joke.

Lynda

“Why is the sky blue?”
“I don’t know, probably some mysterious cosmic coloring, like eggs.”
“What about eggs?”
“Well, they’re yellow and no one knows why.”
“The chickens know, but we ate them!”
“That’s right sweetie! All beat up with a little mayo! You’re so smart!”
“I got a joke!”
“Let’s hear it!”
“Knock knock!”
“Who’s there?”
“Two dogs fucking!”
“Honey, that’s not really something you should say for another fifteen years at least.”
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY TWO DOGS FUCKING WHO?!”
“Okay, okay…two dogs fucking who?”
“You.”
“Wha–ARGH!”
“You’re silly!”
“Get them off me!”
“I want a puppy!”

Lance

Knock, knock.
“Trick or treat!”
“Well, aren’t you the cutest little fairytale princess. Here you go, darling. Happy Halloween!”
“Thank you!”
Knock, knock.
“Trick or treat! Arrr!”
“Well, shiver me timbers! ‘Tis a fearsome pirate an’ no mistake. Here be yer booty, ye scurvy dog.”
“Arrr. Thankee! An’ a Happy Halloween to ye, me hearty!”
Knock, knock.
“Braaaaaaains.”
“Wow. That is absolutely the best zombie makeup I’ve ever seen. How many hours did you have to sit still to look like that?”
“Braaaaaaains?”
“Sure, I understand. You’ve gotta stay in character.”
The zombie uprising began under the cover of Halloween.

Elisson

“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“The Interrupting Pirate.”
“The Interrup…”
“Arrrrrrhhh!”
This joke used to crack us up when we were kids. Timing was everything.
I wasn’t laughing right now, though. Somali pirates were attacking our ship. The crackle of small-arms fire filled the air as the Somalis prepared to board.
The usual game. Hold us hostage, collect the ransom, move on. Insurance would pay the owners.
Not this time. As the pirates strode confidently on deck, laughing, Charlie interrupted them with the M134 Minigun, which promptly converted them into piles of gristle amidst pools of blood.
Yep: Timing is everything.

Guy David

Janice was a practical joker. The number of times we had to ask her “who’s there?” was ridiculous. We tried to stay away, but she would follow us, never understanding the hint. When they fired her, we all cheered. It was later that we read about it in the papers. She jumped off some bridge or another. Now she wonders the office floor telling her knock knock jokes. If someone refuses to play along, he suffers dire consequences. Only five of us are left. Here she comes. Let me utter the magic words that would keep us alive: “Who’s there?”

Tom

Knock Knock
“Hey kids what’s that sound?”
asks Snowball the clown.
“It two dogs …”
Ringmaster Fred quickly steps in cutting off Old Captain Billy before t slips out into the 2 million plus new York jersey TV market.
“Yes kids it seem the Captain as been sipping a little to much of his oj this morning.”
“Frack the kids” snorts Captain Billy
“The joke is in the Whiz bang you morons”
High above the sound stage in the control booth Mr. T Whitesides founder f Baby Bottom Soap is not happy.
“Fire that fucking clown” he yells

Ishtar

“Lock the door he’s almost broken through” Yells Clyde slowly shaking in
fear. His ultimate end was just around the corner.
Oh sure it was a harmless prank. No one really liked the new guy in town.
So round in the middle. Those horrid looking red boots he always wears.
Who would think he would go so far. Just for spray painting Puc Man
on his mail box shouldn’t cause this.
“Knock Knock Knock, I know it was you Clyde. Look at what I did
to Inky and Blinky. Yum Yum Yum. Your next. No one Fucks with
Pac Man.”

Manata

Amnesia is a bitch. Ever since the accident I can’t even remember who I am. It makes my life a living hell. The truth is, if one more person asks me my name, I’ll probably snap.
The only way I can deal with it is to stay high. I get my drugs at this speakeasy near my house. The only problem is the password. I bite my lip, approach the door, and whisper the code: “Knock knock”.
“Who’s there?” came the reply.
That’s it – the last straw.
I scream, “I DON’T KNOW! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I DON’T KNOW!”

Norval Joe

He rapped the back of his hand against the rough wooden plank, his knuckles making more of a sharp tapping sound since the flesh had worn away from the bones.
Knock, knock. The sound was faint through the thin layer of dirt hastily thrown over the wooden box.
Unable to call out, the muscles of his chest were too week to draw breath into throat and lungs clogged with maggots and worms.
Dead and animated, he didn’t think; he only hungered. He hungered to be free from this wooden box. He hungered for revenge against those who put him here.

Melissa

I could see it. Our lives, our future, coming up so fast, I couldn’t catch my breath; I felt the pang of need for oxygen in my lungs! There she was I couldn’t and wouldn’t move, I was entranced. Our destinies were intertwined and the heat was creeping up my back into my shoulders in my ears. I was capturing the butterfly and….
“‘KNOCK KNOCK! Sam are you listening to me?’” came the shrieking sound of Leila’s voice, my band mate from hell. Not even the sound of a derailing train could muffle the searing sound of her voice

Weekly Challenge #157 – Falling Bricks Hurt

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Seven, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s Falling Bricks Hurt.
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):

Ted

“Life’s full of pain… hemorrhoids, gout… hell, falling bricks!”
Steve instantly regretted giving that last example.
“Dude, I’m done dating… and no more concerts!” Mordecai blurted, flailing his limbs.
“Try not being a putz for five minutes,” countered his companion, wearing a visibly weary visage. “Tell you what, let’s grab a nosh.”
The duo sauntered silently down the sidewalk.
“Steve… she’s just,” Mordecai stopped short as suddenly as he had shattered the reticence.
Steve sensed Mordecai’s mood turn from aggravation to resignation… and he realized this is how his friend would be every time Falling Bricks Hurt played The Palladium.

Guy David

Leon was walking down the street, when a flying teapot landed in front of him. Out of the teapot there came little funny men with funny Gnome hats and half moon faces. “We are the pot head pixies” said one of them, “we are here to show you how to have a good time,” then they kidnapped him and took him to the planet Gong, where they partied all night, and all day afterwards, then Leon awoke in his home with a hangover that was similar to a brick falling on his head, but had some strange colors in it.

Tom

The Urban tribe that occupied the ruined city had a tradition of naming their children after the first thing the mother saw after giving birth.
“Grandpa how did you get your name?”
“I was born during a eatherquake and that is why I’m called Falling Bricks Hurt”
“And Papa?”
“Your father was born on Christmas eve and he is called Batteries Not Included.”
“And Mama?”
“Your mother was born in the last operating taxi in the city and she’s called Objects In The Rearview Mirror May Appear Closer That They Are.”
“Thank you Grandpa.”
“Your very welcome Two Dogs Fucking.”

Norval Joe

Blocks away, across the city park, he set up the complicated apparatus. Multifaceted photoreceptors gathered solar power. He laughed vengefully as he flipped the lever on the clattering machine. A wormhole disintegrated the lower half of his ex-girlfriends apartment building, the upper half of the clay brick structure, subsequently, dropping though.
His victory over the woman, who embarrassed him in front of all his friends, was short lived.
The falling bricks hurt for only a moment, as the last of the upper three floors of apartment building dropped out of the other side of the wormhole, directly over his head.

Mike P.

Most people never look at the other side of sliced bread, unless it
falls butter side down. When the cookie crumbles all the chefs in the
kitchen cry like it’s spilt milk and no one calls for all the king’s
horses and all the king’s men in order to reassemble the pieces. When
the wolf huffs and puffs, people notice that the sticks and straw
crumple while bricks do not. It’s easy to assume that this is a story
about strong building materials, but it’s important to note that the
bricks are actually afraid to collapse. Falling bricks hurt
themselves.

Anima

“Frank –look! The bricklayers are almost done on the upper level . Ain’t it a beaut? Just like when we stacked blocks as kids.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say Fred. It certainly is an interesting design. I’m glad the homeowner paid you up front…”
“Frank! I’m calling it “Falling Brick”. Aren’t the cantilevered decks just wonderful?”
“Yeah, but 7?… excessive, isn’t it?”
“Why are you always so practical? This way, every family member gets his own barbecue grill…”
“Fred, You’ve got a brick out of kilter over here. Let me see if I can fix that for you…”
“Nooooooo!”

Michael S

Little sister, Running Cantaloupe, run into teepee one day long ago. She been at river with little brother, Falling Bricks.
She scream,”Falling Bricks hurt, Falling Bricks hurt.”
We all go river. Falling Bricks only play like hurt.
Chief Two Dogs Humping not think funny. Take Falling Bricks to teepee.
They come out teepee.
Little brother hold butt and say, “Falling Bricks hurt.”
This time he no play.

Sophie

The headline reads “Falling Bricks Hurt Five”.
The story reads like it was boys night out and something went just a little wrong…just kid stuff.
The story is bullshit, so typical of the “feel good” press we have today.
I saw it happen, heard the screams.
It was nightfall…four teenaged boys standing on the overpass.
They were excited, cajoling, each using one hand to hold up their oversized pants.
They began hoisting cinder blocks over the bridge onto the traffic below, then ran off…laughing.
It was over in less than a minute.
Mayhem ensued.
Five dead.

Lynda

A 58-year-old man from Brooklyn with no prior arrests and no evidence of drug or alcohol dependency was transferred from police custody to the state mental institution after being arrested for disturbing the peace and complaining of auditory hallucinations.
Employed as a bulldozer operator for 30 years, the patient reported hearing screams from the site of a recent demolition. He was found attempting to rearrange rubble, excitedly repeating apologies and insisting the bricks must be reunited.
Prognosis looks bleak as the patient won’t stop trying to introduce the concrete blocks in his cell long enough to take medication.

Justin

Salim leaped the spike pit. It loomed in the middle of a well-traversed main hallway. Rubbish. What if the trap accidentally spung, hurting someone innocent? Salim forgot the spike trap and dodged three circular blades protruding from the walls and spun, moving vertically in a predictable pattern. Once past it, his thoughts moved onto his target: The Golden MacGuffin. Thievery was not his mission though. He wanted to destroy the Sultan’s palace. The man murdered his father. As soon he stole the MacGuffin, the palace would slowly crumble. The foolish Sultan shouldn’t have let videogame designers install the security system.

Danny

Justin wandered about in the shadows watching the fascinating people. He
smelled the breads and listened to the pop of corks for hours before finally
settling on the perfect sunny patch of grass to feast. Justin the turtle
munched on the greenery of the city he loved, Paris.
1,063 feet into the sky, Gaston Space Pierre ran back and forth on the
observation platform of the Eiffel Tower, his parents not at all effective.
A stray brick from a display for Gustave Eiffel found his palm. He tossed it
over the rails.
Justin looked up just in time to catch the impromptu solar eclipse to the
head.

Jeffrey

I had a friend who took all of the hard drives from the old 486 systems as we retired them. We all asked him what he was going to do with them, but he always gave us the same answer, these bricks, they are for my castle in the the clouds. Needless to say he was a little bit off his rocker. He had quite the wall of them when I left that job. He had taken his cubical wall down and replaced it with careful stacked hard drives. Then he was downsized. We heard the screams the bricks fell.

Planet Z

Falling bricks will hurt your grade.
That’s what the architecture professor says as we enter our designs into the weather simulator.
Rain. High winds. Maybe an earthquake if he’s pissed.
One by one, the buildings appear in the holography tank.
I wait for mine to appear.
Russian music begins to play in the room.
A colored brick falls from the top of the display and lands in my project’s gridspace.
Then another.
The professor raises his eyebrow.
Oh. Right. Tetris.
That memory module has my old arcade games on it.
He hands it back to me.
And whispers “F.”

Weekly Challenge #156 – The Stinking Rose

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Six, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was… was…. um…
It’s The Stinking Rose.
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):

Danny

“Ow, what was that for Charlie?”
“Because your ugly and you smell bad,” he pushed her down, laughed, and ran.
Rose brought her six year old dirty knee stinging to her chest. Silent tears rolled down her rosy cheeks as she sighed. She still loved him, no matter what.
“Make the photo shoot for eight tomorrow morning. I have to do an interview with Glamour,” Rose hung up the phone.
Rose checked her email. Another Facebook friend request, her tenth of the morning.
‘He Rose its Charlie, we should hang out sometime.’ Rose smiled as she pushed the reject button.

Fricker

Even though I told her I was sorry about forgetting our anniversary, she was so upset that she actually tried to castrate me. She had this look in her eyes just like a crazed Jack Nicolson from The Shining. Kitchen shears tightly gripped in one hand she said …”You come home late smelling like smoke and cheep perfume and all you have for me is this stinking rose! “
She leaped towards me to claim her revenge as I cupped my family jewels and ran for the nearest escape route … snip! “Now let’s put this rose in some water” Whew!

Justin

My father always told me that when things get busy and hectic in daily life to take time and smell the roses. I always took this in a more metaphorical sense. Just take a moment to stop and enjoy life’s beauty. My father passes away and while preparing the funeral and the estate, things got very busy. I was working on the outside of his house, feeling a bit flustered. I saw his rose garden. I went to it and took a big whiff. They smelled terrible! That’s how I came to learn that my father fertilized them with beans.

Jeffrey

Juliet: O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
As it turns out it is not as sweet, we renamed the rose and what we came up with is well, not so pretty. We have but a small amount of time left, in which to transmit this warning. When the station was renamed it seems to have awoken and angered the spirit that resided here. Oh by the heavens! Stay away!
Juliet:Yea, noise? then I’ll be brief. O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath

Houston Keys

Dear Muscle Armed Paper Boy,
I am over you and you can keep the stinking rose you didn’t send me. I
thought you were different and we could spend long hours sitting on
the front steps sucking on popsicles from the cellar. I daydreamed we
could be friends (very close, special friends). I have found another
muscle armed MAN who can make me feel like the person I am inside.
You just stay away from me. And keep your dang paper you sumbitch.
Your special friend forever.
Love,
Herbert
There, it’s done, come sit on my lap.
That tickles.

Michael P

People tend to overlook the details in fairy tales. They see a prince
fall from Rapunzel’s tower into rose bushes to be blinded by thorns.
They see an old hag-turned-beautiful enchantress turn an arrogant
prince into a beast, leaving a single rose to mark the passage of
time. They see a prince presenting Cinderella with a rose after her
foot fits perfectly into the glass slipper.
They don’t realize that Rapunzel is the old hag. That Belle is
Cinderella’s step-mother. That it’s the same stinking rose, over and
over. That there is only one immortal, unaging prince.

Anima

I hate him!
Honey, what’s wrong? Not going to the dance?
That stupid boy Wolfgang. I hate him, and I hate it here! I want to go back to California. I’m 17, and you’ve ruined my whole life. I coulda stayed with aunt Julia to finish school, but you “wanted me to broaden my horizons…”
Look at me! It’s senior prom, and I’m dressed like an extra from the Sound of Music. Look at that! My corsage… All I wanted was one stinking rose, and Wolfgang brought me garlic!
You’ll adjust dear; they just do things “differently” here in Transylvania.

Guy David

I was standing at the edge of known space. The grid lines where extremely beautiful. I knew that was it, I was going to jump right into reality. I was going to smell a real rose. I made it, half expecting to disappear in a cloud of pixels. The contraction I built converted me into a real person in the real world. I could feel the real breeze on my face. I found a flower shop, which I entered. I picked up a single rose and smelled it, exhaling deep. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. The rose was stinking.

Michael S

I was chained to the floor as punishment for my repeated offense. I stood in the center of the room listening as the valves opened followed by the sudden rush of sewer water filling the room. In a matter of minutes it was waist high and rising. I was sickened by the disgusting things floating on top the water as the stinking rose to within inches of my mouth and nose.
“Have you no mercy,” I screamed.
“I warned you about that toilet seat time and again,” my wife said.
There was my answer. There would be no mercy.

Tom

The strangest job I ever had was driving Carol Doda between San Jose and San Francisco. I’d get her to the KCSC studio for her on-air editorial. She’d finish, turn sideways, 44 inches of bust line would swing cross the TV monitor. We’d jump in the car and fly up Highway 101 for the lateshow at the Condor Club. Carol had a thing for garlic gorgonzola we’d stopped at the Stinking Rose just before showtime. 33 years later whenever I’m in the city I walk by her historical marker on Columbus and Broadway, head up the street for some gnocchi.

Norval Joe

The smelly rose powder told Johnny his mother was going out even before he saw her wearing the dress that showed too much of her legs.
“Don’t go out, Mom. Stay home and watch a movie with me.” He begged.
Anger flashed momentarily in her eyes. “You know Mommy needs her medicine. My friend, John, said he can get some.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Go to bed by Ten. I’ll be out pretty late.”
Johnny saw a grubby hand with dirty finger nails grasp his mothers arm as she left the house.
Johnny went straight to bed.

Elisson

The Count stood, his full height looming over Van Helsing. No escape… and yet the fabled vampire-hunter stood his ground.
“Doctor Van Helsing,” intoned the Count in a quiet voice that carried the accent of Transylvania. “I almost regret that I must kill you. You have always been a worthy opponent. A gentleman with a boutonnière!
“What kind of flower is that, anyway?” He leaned in for a closer look…
…and was rewarded with a squirt in the eye. Dracula screamed in agony, his body dissolving into a thick mist.
“It’s a rose,” replied Van Helsing. “A stinking rose.”

Sophie Shores

You tell me you adore me. I giggle.
You adorn me with lovely gifts, I am touched by you.
When we’re together you tell me how happy I make you.
You say our love is very special.
I’m only twelve but I know you are not like any of the boys at my school.
Our love is secret.
Now it’s over an you’re gone forever.
As your casket is lowered into the ground, I throw the stinking rose on it.
I watch my mother as she weeps for her lost lover.
I hear whispers you were poison.

Lynda

My wife, bless her, was such a romantic. You’d never know it to look at her when she’d start throwing things and feeding me stuff to aggravate my gout, but she always went on about this rose some guy gave her on their first date.
On our fortieth anniversary, I bought a rose and put it right in the middle of the bed for her to find. She never mentioned it. I just figured I got it wrong.
When the movers took the washing machine what do you think was on the floor with all the lint? That stinkin’ rose.

Lance

“What is that stench?”
“My latest creation.
Cross the common tea rose with the Venus Flytrap, a little genetic
tinkering, lots of growth hormone, and voila!
A sentry plant large enough to handle armed intruders.”
“It smells, Doctor.”
“True, it takes several minutes to extract its roots from
the ground, but once free it can remain mobile for up to an hour.”
“But why does it have to stink?”
“Huh? Oh. Legacy of the flytrap DNA. You see-”
“Arrrgghhh!”
Thwack! Thwack!
Groan.
“Don’t take it so hard, son. This is the perfect chance to test out my new
limb regenerator!”

Planet Z

She’s gone.
She was my Father’s Aunt Rose.
Her husband died years ago. They didn’t have any kids, not many friends.
Quiet and kept to herself.
In the suburbs, they say that kind of thing after a guy flips out, shoots a bunch of people.
But in the city, old… retired… alone… and you’ve paid your rent a year in advance, it can lead to something else.
No, they didn’t find a stinking, dessicated corpse when they kicked the door in.
The place was empty.
She’d sold everything and moved to Cancun. Told nobody.
Where she is now, who knows?

Which were the best stories this week?
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Laurie from http://www.myspace.com/sufferingraven
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Ishtar from http://ishtarskiss.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Platinum Lightning from http://sites.google.com/site/platinumlightningshow/
	Mike P from http://mjpaxton.com/
	Planet Z

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Which were the best stories this week?
	Planet Z
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Laurie
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com
	Leanna
	Anima from http://www.zabbadabba.com
	Platinum Lighting from http://sites.google.com/site/platinumlightningshow/
	Terrence from http://www.mcleanweb.ca/neverwas
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Daphne from http://www.daphneabernathy.com
	Mike P from http://mjpaxton.com
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com
	Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com>

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Justin Y from http://www.jrtblog.com/
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Platinum Lightning
	Justin L from http://www.thespaceturtle.com
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Daphne from http://daphneabernathy.com
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Daphne from http://www.daphneabernathy.com/
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Platinum Lightning
	Mick from http://someotherscotland.blogspot.com/
	Ishtar from http://ishtarskiss.blogspot.com/
	Laurie from http://www.myspace.com/sufferingraven
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Lance from http://writingdad.livejournal.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best this week?
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com/
	Lance from http://writingdad.livejournal.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Terrence from http://www.mcleanweb.ca/neverwas
	Daphne from http://www.daphneabernathy.com/
	Laurie from http://www.myspace.com/sufferingraven
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
	Craig from http://www.washthebowl.com/
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Mike P from http://mjpaxton.com/
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Planet Z

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Which were the best stories this week?
	Michael S.
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Terrence from http://www.mcleanweb.ca/neverwas/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Lance from http://twitter.com/writingdad
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com/
	Ishtar from http://ishtarskiss.blogspot.com/
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Ted from http://whineandopine.blogspot.com/
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com/
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Mike P from http://mjpaxton.com
	Anima from http://www.zabbadabba.com
	Michael S
	Sophie
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Fricker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Houston Keys from http://tatertotsforthemasses.blogspot.com
	Michael P from http://mjpaxton.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Michael S
	Tom from http://footnote.libsyn.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Elisson from http://elisson1.blogspot.com
	Sophie
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
	Lance from http://writingdad.com/
	Planet Z

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