Category: Weekly Challenge

Welcome to the eighty-ninth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Hedgie Till.
It’s Nutcracker
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #89?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Tom from Footnote
	Terry from The Old Coot Cast
	Justin and his Random Thoughts
	JD White
	Yxes from Podmafia
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Guy David the Night Guy
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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CALEB

Who called you a sissy? Let me tell you back when your grandfather was young, John Nutcracker Fuzzarelli ran this town. They called him Nutcracker because he loved Tchaikovsky. So much so that he used the protection money he made to build a theatre, the drug money to buy the best orchestra in the country, and the prostitution money started the greatest ballet troupe around. So just remember it was a love of classical music that made this town and if those bullies make fun of you again, use your flute case to break their fucking kneecaps that�ll teach em.

TOM

First position four position second position Plie Fouett� jet� Allegro Grand jet�. He soared across the stage gaining height in the face of the faltering god of gravity. He was nearing Nijinsky. He was besting Baryshnikov. Clara�s month dropped open. The Rat King spun around backwards. The Flowers, Russians and Chinese dancers just stood transfixed. Only Drosselmeyer smiled for it was he who had been supplying the steroids to the Nutcracker. The street brand was affectionately called Bull Ball Boost. Unfortunately the leap landed him on top to the 2 bassoon. Not player the instrument. Boy that was a nutcracker.

TERRY

Company Holiday Parties are so much fun.
As I stood, chatting, Cindy Lou entered the room.
She was tall, thin, and quite beautiful.
Her gown was excitingly different from the pant suits she normally wore.
The front of it was low cut and showed off her ample cleavage,
and her long legs seemed to go on forever under the short skirt.
I hurriedly made my way through the crowd to her.
Smiling, she raised her arms for a hug.
I seized my chance and embraced her, pressing her breasts firmly against my chest.
Just as swiftly, her knee shot up between my legs.
yeooowwww..
Cindy Lou was a real Nutcracker

JUSTIN

Most people think nutcrackers are harmless. Trust me, they aren�t.
One day while I was on vacation in New York I was walking through Little Italy and saw a guy called Violent Vinny get whacked. I was the only one around so they grabbed me and encouraged me to act like I saw nothing.
Apparently they weren�t convinced that I�d not talk and felt like they needed to give me a dose of what I�d face if I ever were to go to the cops.
That�s when they got out the nutcracker and left me with this high pitched voice.

JD

The sugar plum fairies froze as big Bill entered the bar.
It was the night before Christmas and everyone knew what the big man was like this time of year.
He had not received a gift in his whole miserable life.
He, without fail, sent letters to Santa.
Registered letters!
He had even once been nice for 364 days.
Big Bill was just the sort of man that was not ever, and I mean never, going to receive a visit from Santa.
The fairies looked down into their drinks as Big Bill strode the bar with the nutcracker held ready.

YXES

He looked like a soldier, standing up so tall and straight
Although he never smiled, he was always looking at some far distant target.
My favorite thing to do with him was to watch him yawn, a big, impossible opening of his mouth,
and then I’d wait to hear a very peculiar crunching sound, not unlike a fabricated cough.
Then, in all the staunch dignity that he could muster, he’d spit out the shell of a walnut, or pecan
or sometimes even an almond, leaving the meat for me and my siblings to snack on.
He was my favorite Nutcracker.

HOUSTON

The A-Team was trapped with only a few Frankie Goes to Hollywood
T-shirts and a large bag of walnuts.
Hannibal ordered Face and Murdoch to crack the walnuts so they could
create a nut based bomb.
They tried using Murdoch’s head, but that didn’t work so well.
Next, Face tried to use his teeth, but his caps kept popping off.
Finally B.A. stepped up. “Stop with all the jibber-jabber! Hand me
those walnuts!”
Placing the walnuts between his well defined gluteus muscles he began
to squeeze until the walnut gave way.
“I pity the fool that tells anyone about this!”

GUY

The nutcracker bird was sitting on a high brunch overlooking the kingdom. The king was standing bellow the apricot tree shouting orders. �Where is my nutcracker? I want to eat some nuts!� he shouted. The bird, hearing the king and wanting to shut him up, did the only thing it could do and dropped some crap on him. �Off with the bird’s head� shouted the king quite angrily, �and do it quick. I’ve got a Tchaikovsky concert to catch. They are playing The Nutcracker Suite.� The bird laughed a little birdie laugh and flew away, as birds would often do.

PLANET Z

I like going to see The Nutcracker every year, but this year I was busy, so I didn’t get to the ballet until after Christmas.
Wow, do those dancers phone it in once the holiday’s passed.
Clara barely acknowledges the gift, which were blow-up sex dolls, a prank by the propmaster.
The Sugar Plum Fairy was chainsmoking while limply dancing on a runny egg yolk of a moon.
The Russian dancers have long since defected, replaced with any homeless willing to dress up in Soviet Army Surplus for ten bucks and a sandwich.
Somewhere, Tchaikovsky is spinning in his grave.
Put a tutu on him, baby!

Welcome to the eighty-seventh Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Tony Folino.
It’s Time Travel
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #87?
	Hedgie
	Steve
	Phil Rossi of
	Guy David of The Sixteenth
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson of Blog d’Elisson
	Tony
	JD
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Laieanna from Hodge Podge Point
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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HEDGIE

I stepped into the machine simply labeled time travel and was carefully warned to stay hidden. I watched my child grow from a silly 5 year old to the astronaut he always dreamed he would be. I watched my Husband grow older and happier with time. I saw family members pass on as new ones came along. Family vacations, graduations and simple celebrations came and went. When my time in the machine was up I emerged with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. I was given a chance to see what I would never experience�my future.

STEVE

Finally! Me and Kathy in my back seat! She was a real bitch, but what a body! Then my condom broke as I put it on. Damn! Oh well, just this once. What are the odds? Suddenly, there was a bright flash outside. A man appeared and knocked on my window. He looked like me, only twenty years older.
“Thank God it worked!” he said. He handed me a condom. “Trust me,” he said. Then he vanished.
“C’mon, dammit!” Kathy whined. Bossy bitch. I threw the condom out the window and got busy. Just this once.
Who was that guy?

GUY DAVID

The kid was staring at me with wide open curious eyes. I was the stranger he had never met, but boy was I familiar in ways he couldn’t begin to understand, in ways he wouldn’t understand for many years. I just stood there and stared back, in lost for words, and what could I say? I’m all grown up now, made good of my life, and the child I once was is gone, but then, there he is, staring at me with the wonder of a three years old. I looked at my watch.
�My time is up. Bye kid.�

TOM

God thought
“I think I�ll go on vacation”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“What do you mean there�s no where to go?”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“Well then I�ll just have to create space.”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“Your telling me I need to create time too.
Damn the devil is in the details.”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“I know he doesn�t have anything to do with it.
It just a saying.
How about
I just do them that at the same time
I�ll call it time/space
sort of a grand unification things.”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“Where I am I going?
I going back to the future.”
Pssmispuushhehhiiee
“Oh, the food is much better there.”

ELISSON

Malachi Mavis climbed into his Time Machine and pressed the lever. After
what seemed like hours of loud vibration and a disconcerting nauseous
sensation, he arrived in Far Futurity. Success!
Exiting the machine, Mavis found himself in a beautiful glade, flanked
by shining glass structures. White-robed men and women strode by and
smiled at him.
A cherubic oldster explained that disease, hatred, and warfare had been
swept away millennia ago, after the Pod Wars.
�So, we won?� offered Mavis.
�Depends on what you mean by �we,� kemosabe,� said the oldster. �We�re
from Epsilon Eridani. You�re what we call �indigenous protein.��

TONY

I was struggling desperately to stay afloat. The boat had capsized suddenly in the stormy sea. One by one I watched as my fellow passengers took their last breathe and disappeared below the surface of the water. I realized my time was limited and pressed the green button on my watch. I was immediately transported back in time and I heard the woman on the other end of the phone say, “Sir, I’m confirming your cruise on…” I stop her and politely said, “On second thought let’s go with that safari trip instead.”

PHIL

�Keto-7,� Freddie said, �Say’s his name is Keto-7. I never seen no one so old in my life. He’s gotta be ninety-nine. Bonkers, too.�
Hank looked down the length of the bar and there sat Keto-7. He was dressed in head to toe tin-foil–a walking baked-potato. Gray eyes looked out from face that was impossibly wrinkled.
�What does he want?� Hank asked and lit a Pall Mall.
�Says he needs a buck forty-five so he can get back to the year 2085.�
Hank called down the bar: �Hey Keto-7–what’s in 2085?�
�My youth,� he answered, his voice flat.

JD

Hi Ho and all that rot…..just a little story on time travel
I stooped and picked up a broken bit of glass from the dust of the gravel road.
The glass is green and slightly curved.
The edges are sharp and, while I hold it
the thin sliver cut through the skin of my finger.
I focus on the pain as a line of blood emerged.
The memory of a time long past floated up to the center of my mind.
A golden haired young boy standing on a dirt road, a bit of broken green glass in his hand, a cut finger.
Strange that my time machine only works in reverse.

HOUSTON KEYS

This is Lieutenant Dan. Leave me a message.
Lieutenant Dan, this is Forrest, Forrest Gump. I have something to say
to you through the miracle of Cher.
If I could turn back time,
I’d get Lieutenant Dan his legs.
I’d shoot back at the Cong who hurt you,
And you’d stay.
If I could drive a car,
I’d drive over to see you.
And you’d love me, love me love me,
I’d give my legs to you�
I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is, I love you like a man
loves another man.
Platonically of course.

LAIEANNA

After I killed Scruffy, the only way my husband could cope was to get
another dog. I was reluctant, but watching Sally closely, I
determined she was normal. That was till the socks situation. At
first all my whimsical socks were disappearing from the drawer. Days
later new socks made of strange space age material were appearing.
While sifting through the pile of unusual foot warmers for the fifth
time one day, I glimpsed Sally walking by the doorframe in a pair of
black socks with rotating red suns. I’ve had it with dogs. Tomorrow
we get a guinea pig.

PLANET Z

Ned’s time machine was built out of a supercomputer and an old portable toilet.
Every time Ned tried to go back in time to visit some historical event, he’d hear a loud bang and some flashing lights, but he was still in the present.
After a week of testing and adjusting, Ned eventually gave up on the time machine and dismantled it.
Back in time, from the crucifixion of Jesus to the assassination of JFK, the torrent of random explosions of human excrement and chemicals suddenly stopped.
The fact that none of this made the history books, well, that’s life.

Welcome to the eighty-sixth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Stuart Warf.
It’s Snow
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #86?
	Tony Folino
	Hedgie Till
	Tom from Footnote
	Anji Bee from Chillcast
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	JD White
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Yxes from Podmafia
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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TONY FOLINO

As the snow fell, the team lined up in formation. The football felt like a block of ice. He thought his fingertips were going to snap off. He lost all feeling in his hands an hour ago. The best he could do to catch and hold the ball was to use a combination of useless hands and numb arms to cradle the ball against his frigid body. An alarm sounded and he turned and walked out door, took off his gloves and motioned to the administrator. “That new simulator feels so real. Wanna get a beer?”

HEDGIE

Early one morning at a New Hampshire college, a wide eyed Bermuda born freshman stared in wonder at the gently falling snow. Winter was here! Giddy with excitement, she ran outside and leapt into a small drift. She made snow angels and had snowball fights with friends for hours. Her dream of a snowy winter had come true! A few weeks later, knee deep in drifts and her arms full of books, a group of seniors that had witnessed her first snow filled morning chuckled to themselves as they heard her muttering “fucking snow. I can’t wait to go home!”.

TOM

See Snow.
Fall snow Fall.
See Dad.
See big shovel.
Shovel dad Shovel.
The snow is white.
The dad is red.
Dad like the snow has fallen.
See Mom.
See Phone.
Call mom call
before Dad dies.
Down our street come the white van
With backward letters.
Hurray van Hurray.
See the tires spin
See the van spin.
Crash van Crash
into the ditch.
See Mom.
See Tears.
Fall tears Fall.
The air is very still.
The dad is very still
See Sky.
Gray sky Gray.
See Snow.
See Dad.
Fall snow Fall
cover-up the dad.

ANJI

i am a southern california gal through and through. you can hear it in my accent, that calls to mind slacking surfers; you can see it in my style — the penchant for year round bare feet; but most of all you can sense it in my attitude — that laid back, chilled out, keep it mellow vibe i maintain despite my workload or surroundings. but once upon a time, when i was still a teen, i moved to arizona with my mother for a year. now most people associate arizona with extreme dry heat, but in flagstaff, they get snow.

GUY

The snow has been falling, dripping on my heart for days, and it is now frozen. No sound is coming out, no internal clock ticking, clicking the days of my mortal prison away. Gone are the days, chased by time rushing by, washing me away in it’s tidy tide, forgotten in a prison of ice.
The rain will wash my pain away, leave me clean, cold and still. I’m forever blue, in a crystalized ice cage, here I stay, unmoving, uncaring, for all my cares are gone, forgotten, as I forever sleep, with a frozen heart, buried under deep snow.

JD

I cover my one sin with other sins
First I commented one sin in ignorance
Then I lied to keep hidden that sin, this time not in ignorance
After the first lie another lie is created and after that, another follows
Soon the lies are too many to count and my mind,
spinning out of control,
bends under the effort to maintain a reality that is not real
The mind bends but it does not break.
Is there a breaking point?
Snow covers the ground as far as my eyes can see
Would that pure snow could cover my sins.

HOUSTON

We open with young Karen crying over the puddle which used to be
Frosty the Snowman.
Karen, what’s wrong?
Santa, it’s Frosty, he’s melted.
Ho, Ho, Ho. Don’t you worry Karen; Frosty is made from “Christmas
Snow.” Once he gets a blast of�
But Santa!
What! I mean, yes Karen.
But Santa, Frosty was starting to melt. WAIT! DON’T OPEN THE DOOR!
But it was too late. The Christmas Wind brought Frosty back to life.
Happy birthday! What the [REDACTED]??? Yellow snow?
Now it is a little known fact that Frosty had the strongest pimp slap
of all the snowmen.

LAIEANNA

“Oh come on,” screamed the devil,
“This just isn’t right.
The people are happy.
They won’t even fight!”
His precious lake of fire
Where souls once burned in it’s flow
Was nothing more than slick and solid
And all the ground was covered in snow
In typical demon fashion, he had a blazing fit
Being sure he was heard as he’d stomp and yell
“You’re showing off up there,
Just to prove you can freeze hell.”
“You’re making a mockery of me.
You’re making me a fool.”
He turned towards his chambers, grumbling
“Just look at me; I’m turning blue.”

YXES

A fresh blanket of snow quietly covered the ground when he suddenly noticed a jacket on the path, then some pants, a hat, some shoes. “This was very odd,” he thought, as he continued picking up articles of clothing on his way to the doorway of a rugged cabin that was hidden behind the trees. He saw smoke curling out of the chimney, and candle light flickering in the windows. Then he saw her, standing in the doorway, naked, except for a red santa’s hat, and a bright red ribbon artfully wrapped around her body. She whispered, “Merry Christmas, lover.”

PLANET Z

I keep a snowball in my freezer.
I also keep a severed head in my freezer.
The severed head came off of a guy from the Census Bureau who came around the other day asking nosy questions:
�How old are you?�
�How many people live here?�
�Are you married?�
�Do you have any children?�
All these questions!
So I got angry and chopped off his head.
Looking back, I probably should have just hit the guy with the snowball.
I could really use the space in the freezer that the severed head takes up.
And the snowball, too, I guess.

Welcome to the eighty-fifth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Houston Keys.
It’s Naked Twister
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #85?
	Coal Cracker
	Tom from Footnote
	Guy David from The Sixteenth
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Yxes from Podmafia
	Planet Z
pollcode.com free polls

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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COAL CRACKER

The mail arrived on a chilly winter morning. It arrived just in time. It was just what was needed to cure the winter doldrums. The envelope was addressed to my wife and me. Inside was an invitation. The cover of the invitation contain four equal-sized circles. One green. One yellow. One blue. And one red. The green circle displayed the address of the party. The yellow circle contained the date. The blue circle showed the time. Inside the red circle was a smiley face. The inside of the invitation contained just two words: Please come.

TOM

Emily loped across the barnyard towards Henry. He held the steel plate to the cellar. The wind whipped Kansas dust into his eyes as Emily cried for Dorothy Gale. He could see the cyclone cutting directly across the cornfield. Henry lowered the door just as his niece�s bike turned down the lane. She froze as the twister spun inches from her feet. In a last frantic cartoon pirouette Taz appeared. Dorothy smiled and said “Aaaboola baga laha rooAh” The Tasmanian Devil dropped both his hands to his groin. He blushed with the sudden realization he was indeed a naked twister.

GUY

Jeramy was embarrassed. He was sure everyone could see his huge erection. The nude assemblage of people trying to touch appropriate color circles was getting to him. The smell was intoxicating. It took all his will power to stop himself from trying to penetrate the closest body. The fact it belonged to a beautiful blond didn’t help much.
Suddenly, a blurry orange puffball ran out of the crowd and between the players. It managed to rub against all the naked bodies while avoiding them as they toppled over each other. �Nardo, you stupid cat�, came a voice from the crowd.

CALEB

It moved like a plague through the Forest Glen Assisted Living Community. Mrs. Johnson never recovered from her sprained vertebrae and died in surgery. Mr. Yakwezel broke his ulna and went into a coma. And Mr. Schwartz�s priapism was fatal. What was their secret? What brought these ancient baby boomers down in a way that Vietnam, Brown Acid, Disco, Reaganomics, TAB, and AIDS never could? I hid in a broom closet till after dark and heard the geriatric laughter turn to cries of agony! I threw open the door To Mrs. Fonzarelli�s Room and nearly vomited. It was� Naked Twister.

YXES

Red hand, blue foot, yellow elbow, purple butt? What does all this have to do with listening to old songs while doing a very unique form of exercising? A few more moves and match-ups like that, and I’ll be all tied up like a neat little pretzel, just waiting to be warmed up and eaten with gourmet mustard or cheese.
Oh, wonderful! Now the instructor is sharing with us HIS way of doing these routines with much greater ease and versatility. He assures us there is only one way to do this routine properly, and it’s called “Naked Twister”.

Z

She and I were always going to the movies.
I say going because we weren’t going to see them.
Why we bought popcorn and drinks, I’m not sure. They always ended up getting knocked over.
One time, we had the theater all to ourselves. Twister was the movie, I think.
She was just supposed to go down on me, but we ended up going at it on the stadium seats.
Hey, you can fold the arms up.
Our clothes got sticky from being on the floor.
We tried going back the next night to see the movie.
Two thumbs up.

Welcome to the eighty-fourth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Guy David.
It’s Marriage
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #84?
	John S from One Screen Stories
	Yxes from Podmafia
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Tom from Footnote
	Stuart from Podmafia
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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JOHN S

All day, Bob�’s only day off work this week, as he tried to read a new book or watch an afternoon movie or talk with his brother on the telephone, his upstairs neighbors argued. This was their usual argument–Why were you talking to that woman? Hey, you were talking to that man, so I can talk to that woman–the same weary characters and tired marriage plot played out a dozen times before on a dozen other days off gone wrong.
That night, as Bob tried to sleep, like a dozen times before, all he could hear was their bedsprings squeaking.

YXES

Marriage?? You want me to marry you?? Have you told me you loved me? Oh, you did. Well, did you tell me I was the one for you? Ahhh, I do remember that vaguely, yes. Ok! Have you even considered if I loved you enough to marry you? Well, I have told you every day! You do realize this marriage thing is not something I could take lightly. It’s a huge commitment, and there are so many things I have to consider. My home, my critters, my tupperware! Shut up, & kiss you, and say yes???? Well alright! Yes! dear!

CALEB BULLEN

The Dish ran away with The Spoon but after that it all went downhill.
Their Vegas wedding was cutlery rate then they blew their savings
betting on a bowl game. She went to work and nearly cracked under the
pressure. He fell in with a bad crowd and became a greasy spoon. The
Dish started seeing a rough customer till she was just his little
chippy. Now Spoon he’s in his cups every day stirring up trouble. And
everyone thought they were made for each other. Looking back on it, The
Dish probably should have married a nice stable placemat.

GUY DAVID

The bride wore red. The priest was a coconut tree, or at least, some alien something like a coconut tree. The bride was pretty. I was happy being. Seeing red again. My head was throbbing “Hit them, punch them, Moris”. My fists where clenched, blood oozing from my open wounds. I put salt on it.
The little elf like creatures sang to us, alien voices joined in prayer, then the roof was raised. See the stars. I was proudest. Marriage. Who would have thought.
“I do” I said.
“I do” she said”.
“You may eat your bride” said the tree.

TOM

Frankie and Johnny were lovers kids from the stockyards down south. He worked in the loop and she for the Trib. Weekends you’d find them at the Museum. They’d laugh in the coal mine sung in the U505. Frankie did a fair pantomime of a caryatid on the lawn. Johnny would mess with Foucault’s pendulum, turn the handles on gears, held Frankie tight in the giant heart. In the Whispering Galley in a voice soft and low Johnny proposed marriage to Frankie. They were wed on the cobblestones of Yesterday’s Main Street with a honey moon on the Pioneer Zephyr.

STUART

Marriage never really interested me much. All that awful “you promise to be with her for ever until you die”, I might as well go jump.
So imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning with a wedding ring on my finger in a desert.
Not wanting to be like Britney Spears, I decided to do what any man would do…
Shot the broad in the back of the head
Dug a trench
Dumped the bitch
Filled with Cement
Smoked a Cigar
The judge said I’ve been watching too much Goodfellas
Now I am stuck in this damn cell.

PLANET Z

You’ve heard it all before. The magic is gone from the marriage, right?
Instead of hiring a marriage counselor, why not hire a magician?
It’s magic, right?
I mean, it’s not like you’re going to talk out your problems when things have gotten so bad. And if a divorce is in the cards, well, the magician can easily make that card change into the one you’re thinking of.
Whatever the lawyers cut in half, the magician can make whole again! (Minus the attorney’s fees, mind you.)
And if all else fails, he can always turn your spouse into a frog.

Welcome to the eighty-third Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Justin.
It’s Mexican Food
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #83?
	Guy David of Guy David
	JD White
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Tom from Footnote
	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Daphne of Going Broke
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Chris from Chris Carlisle.net
	Yxes from Podmafia
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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GUY DAVID

It was our first date. I was just a stray cat she collected out of the street and took home to feed, and boy was I hungry. Pretty soon, the sound of something rousting on a frying pan came out of the kitchen, coupled with some delicious smells. Expectation was building up. Soon, she came back, bearing the gift of food. It had some rousted tomatoes, sausages and some other things I couldn’t immediately recognize. “What is it?” I asked. “Oh, it just some Mexican food” she answered. I ended up marrying her. I was always a sucker for innovation.

JD WHITE

What can be said for those folks south of the border.
They are just not civilized.
Not even close to being “like us”.
We always are kind to strangers and we always dress in appropriate ways.
Our homes are immaculate inside and out.
We keep our city streets clean.
We never dump trash on the roadside.
Our form of government is far superior to theirs.
With far less corruption in our public officials.
The one good thing I have found is that when traveling from Ottawa to see my Doctor in Michigan.
They have the best Mexican Food in Detroit.

ELISSON

Salvador Dali, the renowned surrealist painter, is thought by most
people to have been Catalonian.
Not true. He was born in Taxco de Alarcón, Guerrero state, Mexico, in
May of 1904. Mexican to the core. It’s a well-kept secret.
The inspiration for many of his surrealistic works was the local
cuisine. His most famous painting, The Persistence of Memory,
was inspired by a meal, the digestion of which caused hallucinations
that lasted three days. Freud and Einstein had nothing to do with it.
Most people look at that painting and see melted watches. But Dali
always saw tortillas. No: Distortillas.

TOM

Rice cakes Rice cakes No beef today. I’m on this 1000 caloric demonic diet. I dream of dancing slabs of cow I dream of singing wells of grave. But in the day it’s mostly greens to dine and if by chance a stray morsel I might indulge and its taste might ever be so good my mantra is spit it out. Its day 49 and I can take it no more. It midnight outside El CharO’s Original All You Can Eat. I got a brick and the glass its gone. Its Mexican Food Tonight. Double Fried Burrito here I come

HOUSTON KEYS

“Hello welcome to Tacorama! Would you like to try our double quesadilla?”
It’s pronounced quesadilla!
Whatever! Would you like one?
What do you mean whatever? You should have some pride in your job!
What kind of slacker wants to work in a culturally specific restaurant
and refuses to immerse themselves in the culture? How can you expect
discerning palettes to partake with a greeting like that?
Look Buddy. I make six bucks an hour, what do you expect.
Fine, If you are that insensitive I shall take my culinary business to
another establishment.
Knock yourself out Bro.

DAPHNE

It’s that time of year when families gather for meals and to give
thanks for their blessings over the past year. This year my family
will be no different. We will gather around the table and each take
turns giving our thanks. Some thank for their health, some thank that
we are all there, some thank for getting a bike for their birthday.
Ok that’s just my nephew, but he’s thankful at least. Me, I will be
thankful for the meal. You see I get to cook dinner this year and
they let me do whatever was easiest for me. So I called my favorite
restaurant and got take out. I’m thankful for Mexican Food Take Out.

CALEB

Pastor Al’s tacos al pastor were all the rage in Tenochticlan in the days before she became Mexico City. People would come from miles around drawn by the aroma of the cooking meat and fresh tortillas. Spaniards, Mestizos, even the occasional missionary came. The only problem was beloved as his tacos were, his Presbyterian rhetoric was not. Eventually Don Fernando a local Catholic cook snuck into the pastor’s adobe hacienda and when he found the secret recipe, he killed the heretic and began preparing the meat. Al pastor tacos made by Pastor Al were delicious; made with Pastor Al, Heavenly.

CHRIS

Let me tell you about a woman I know,
She ain’t no model or runway queen,
You won’t find her on Cosmo or Glamour,
Or in the pages of Vogue magazine
She wears a hairnet and plastic gloves,
She scoops the beans and rice all day,
She makes minimum wage (under the table)
Workin’ for the Chipotle
She can’t speak a word of English
She calls the beans frijoles,
But you know what? That’s just fine by me,
I still love her anyways.
She’s my Burrito Lady
And she’s driving me crazy
Burrito Lady,
Make my burrito for me yeah.

YXES

She was smiling as she got ready to go out for a Mexican food dinner with her sweetheart. She was remembering their first date, and how he had wanted to show her something she had never seen before. He ordered her a taco, and said, “Go ahead, eat it.” She picked it up, holding it like a sandwich. Immediately, the whole taco fell right into her lap! She was speechless, and a mess, all covered in “taco stuff”! His kind look of suppressed laughter is what made her fall in love with him, and with tacos! Hot sauce and all!!

Z

We used to go to this Mexican place next to a veterinarian, and we called it The Cat And Dog Hospital.
The Mexican place, not the vet’s office.
We’d go there every day, and you could hear the barking through the wall of the dining room.
Strange thing was, as the week went on, the barking got less and less, until there was one or two dogs left on Friday.
Then, you’d place your order, and…
It got quiet all of the sudden.
I started ordering salads there, but I noticed something really strange about the plants in the landscaping…

Welcome to the eighty-second Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Michael.
It’s Fear Of Flying
Whew.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #82?
	Paul
	Linda
	Tom from Footnote
	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Daphne of Going Broke
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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PAUL

Hello, my name’s Bob and I have a problem
[Hi Bob!]
I have this fear of flying.
[What the heck? What did he say? What’s the deal? ]
Which! … Which is why I drink.
[Oh! Okay! He’s one of us, after all. Okay Bob!]
I’m a Consultant. I live on the west coast and work on the East! I have to fly!
But I can’t fly without drinking! One after the other! Calling the attendant for more and more!
[Yep! Been there! Don’t have to fear flying for that! Hard to walk to baggage!]
Then I can’t sleep after drinking all that coke!
[Coke! He’s no Alcoholic! Throw out the Bum!]

LINDA

Frank was stuffed into the Toyota. At Seventy-five MPH it sound- ed
like a beehive. The toll traffic was unbearable. Work sucked.
Suddenly a seagull swooped down in front of his windshield.
Man, he was staying ahead of the car! The bird’s feet were just
touching the windshield!
Frank pulled himself up rooting! This was Frank’s whole problem! A
fear of flying, of braking away and striking out. He could do it!
Screw this commute, this job! You Go Bird!!
Boom! An explosion of feathers. Two stuck to Frank’s windshield. The
bird veered into a truck. 7:59. Late. Work sucked

TOM

He was shaking like a leaf. The stewardess noted the white knuckler in C35 motioned to the head fight attendant. Tom’s new job had him flying regulars to LA for 30 and 60 second spots. It wouldn’t have matter if he taken a train car or rickshaw the devastating motion sickness would have gotten him. It was the curse of his Kingdom and that first ancestor Herb. “Why had that fraking Gnome got himself fired?” he thought. Tom Tomato Plant lost it when the head steward offered him a Snap Toms. Lucky the stewardess had a vegetable barf bag ready.

LAIEANNA

Jimmy purchased a parachute and modified it with a smaller harness
attached to the front for his daughter. He then spent hours
practicing the whole scenario of picking her up, strapping her in,
jumping free of danger and debris, and pulling the cord.
On the big day, Jimmy strapped a helmet on both their heads and held
his daughter’s hand while waiting in line. He was terrified; she was
excited. When their turn came up to board, he made the sign of the
cross and hoisted his daughter into the Carnival’s Miniature airplane
kiddy ride and climbed in behind her.

GUY

The world of open source change is coming
Have no fear of flying
Fragments of human imagination
Caught in a twilight zone of virtual innovation
It’s the golden age of creation
Sweeping through the Second Life nation
Shaking furiously with anticipation
As I crush out of this world of expectation
There’s no denying there is some sort of a revolution here
But the wheels of steel are moving to slow for the kill
The age of open code and sharing is coming
There is no denying that
In a whirlpool of sweet creative melody
Comes the age of enhanced communication

DAPHNE

Standing at the edge of the nest, Stanley looked back at his mother.
She nudged him gently toward the sky. He opened his wings, felt the
wind rush past them, he looked to the horizon, he envisioned himself
soaring with the other eaglets, but he couldn’t move. He was an
eaglet with a fear of flying. He knew he had to conquer this fear or
become food for the beasts that dwell on the ground. So he unhooked
his talons and jumped from the nest…and then… nothing… Stanley woke up
and realized You can’t soar with the Eagles when you are a Turkey.

CALEB

when they came together, zippers fell away like rose petals, underwear
blew off in one sweet breath like dandelion fluff. Her mind was a whirl,
was this the mythical a plus zipless f**k or was it just the Maui Wowee
this guy had brought with him on the Braniff flight from Amsterdam.
Either way, her mother always told her to ‘eschew the ordinary’ and this
Randolph Mantooth look alike was anything but ordinary. She eschewed him
out the door before her husband got home, then Erica Jong fired up her
fancy new bong and began writing the fear of flying.

Z

Sometimes, you’re such a fuckup, you need divine intervention to keep you from being too much of a problem to others.
So many people out there in the world, stands to reason there’s a backlog of cases.
Standards for guardian angels have dropped significantly since Biblical times.
For instance, my guardian angel is afraid of flying.
“How can you be afraid of flying?” I ask her. “Don’t you have wings?”
“I don’t you sticking your tongue in light sockets,” she said. “You have a tongue, right?”
Okay, so maybe she said something other than “tongue” but you get the point.

Welcome to the eighty-first Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Mike
It’s pumpkin, ghost, squirrels, blue smoke, the Gates of Hell, lime, time, rhyme, and orgasms
Whew.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #81?
	Guy David of Guy David
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Justin from Justin’s Thoughts
	Terrence from Never Was
	Daphne from Going Broke
	Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

---

GUY DAVID

I was standing at the gates of hell. I was a ghost. There was no doubt about it.
They say that hell is what you make it. For me it was a couple of squirrels, rousting some pumpkins with lime. It was an orgy of naked bodies, endlessly entering each other, in and out, in and out, but without being able to reach orgasms. It was devoid of sensation, maliciously suspended in time and space. We could go about it until blue smoke came out of our asses, but nothing would happen. It just wouldn’t rhyme. A six way tie.

TOM

When Pumpkins dream it’s a fiery sight. Flaming Limes held in check by a ghostly light.
Citrus and Squash hurling with all their might
Against the Gates of Hell lintels red posts white
The dances of Pumpkins and capers of Limes take flight
In dream time and ghost time in the blue smoke of night
With reason and rhyme we mark their gathering blight
For it is pies we will be baking and ghostlings they will bite
Its pumpkin time before the ghostly gates of key lime hell
So ends this squirrelly rhyme
So begins a midnight of sugary orgasmic delight

JUSTIN

As Joe walked through the gates of hell, he watched a lime-colored pumpkin release a puff of blue smoke.
“What’s that for?” he asked the ghostly squirrel guarding the gate.
“Means it’s time for Satan to get his rocks off,” said the squirrel. “If you see it, you have to report to Satan’s castle and give him an orgasm.”
“Oh, f***,” said Joe. “Can I get around it?”
“There’s a rumor that if you can tell him a really good rhyme he’ll let you off,” replied the squirrel.
“A sublime rhyme?” asked Joe.
“Try that one,” said the squirrel.

TERRENCE

Raoul stood at the Gates of Hell waiting for the kids. A pumpkin sat to his right the candle flickering in the wind. Raoul was always the one that got stuck handing out the candy. A Podcaster dressed as a nun approached. The Podcaster spoke and Raoul dropped in the lime; and under his breath he said “give it time.”
The Podcaster dropped to the ground, started to scream and moan. This continued for a moment and then there was a puff of blue smoke and the Podcaster smiled. A squirrel appeared from under his habit and whipped its face.

DAPHNE

Every year one house had the best decorations on Halloween. Most houses had simple pumpkins carved with Faces, Witches, Bats and the occasionally squirrels eating nuts. But this house had more. As you go up the walk up to it, there was a fork in the path. To the left you saw blue smoke, ghosts and flashing lime green light, you heard screams of horror, that sounded more like orgasms (or so I’ve been told) and there was a sign with that old rhyme “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime” and a gate with flames made out of fabric around it and on it said “The Gates of Hell” and there were 2 mean dogs barking at you. On the right side was Father O’Malley standing at a gate that said “The Gate to Heaven” handing out full size candy bars and Bibles. We might not get the message at church but we got it on Halloween. Heaven has chocolate.

LAIEANNA

Six way tie, it was. They encircled their tormentor, shooting him
till he fell dead. Inevitably, they all went down in the crossfire.
The whole squirrelly gang ended up stuck behind the gates of hell.
They squabbled about who really did the bastard in. There was Rhyming
Ellison and On Time Tom with Mysterious Blue Smoke Guy and Martini
with a Lime Twist Caleb. Even Pumpkin Rolling Houston and Oh The
Orgasms Laieanna were in on the fight. There was nothing better to do
while they waited for Ghostly Laurence to take his eternal revenge
with assigning another torturous challenge.

CALEB

The squirrel’s ghost was biding it’s time smoking a cuban cigar in the old hallowed out pumpkin while watching the teenagers boinking at lookout point. Suddenly a leg kicked out as the kids reached their orgasms they sent the squirrel’s ghost tumbling in a pumpkiny blaze down the hill.Then in a puff of blue smoke the ghost of the squirrel found himself at the gates of hell where a podcaster, Burroughs and St. Peter were drinking Lime Rickeys trying to think of words that rhyme with ‘merkin’. The ghost of the squirrel suddenly realized… he was in the wrong story.

PLANET Z has chosen to pass this week, and a Wacky Adventure of Abraham Lincoln will be recorded to fulfill the “Story a day until the day I die” pledge.

Welcome to the eightieth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Chris Doelle.
It’s Garage Sales
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Who had the best stories of Weekly Challenge #80?
	Michael from The Next Big Writer
	Tom from Footnote Podcast
	Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
	Guy David from Guy David dot com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

---

MICHAEL

Shamus finally struck it rich. Allergic to any form of work, his past schemes and cons netted him but paltry earnings. Now, not only was he raking in money, he was contributing to a better world environment by recycling.
The magic word was “Garage sale.” It attracted bargain hunters with ready cash.
His success was that you bid on the total contents of his overstuffed garage. Old lamps, appliances, boxes and bags. Winner takes all.
Today, $1240, walked away with the lot.
Not as good as last week’s haul, but not bad for one little trip to the local dump.

TOM

The podcaster was getting pretty bored with this Dante crap.
So he pushed the bark away from the shore.
“75 cent for the next 5 minutes” intoned the voice.
The podcaster looked down to see a Halliburton change box.
“Frak this”
just as he was about to give the box a good kick
two near celestial being where deposited into the bark.
“Time to get out of Dodge” spit Burroughs
“Damn straight” say St Peter.
“Where we going” asked The Podcaster.
“In search of Garage Sales” chanted the boatmen.
“What?” cried Laurence.
“Hell it’s just the topic this week kid”

LAIEANNA

“New beginnings start with the shedding of our past. Garage Sale 10-4”
stated Libby’s sign. Two sisters of the order were helping,
identifiable by bald heads and potato sack clothes. New pupils of the
Enlightenment and Ascension Order, or as her ex-husband would say, the
short a few vowels cult, had to rid themselves of everything. For the
purpose they gave her, she gladly let go of hair and clothes. And now
she felt no loss for her belongings until the sale of a picture frame
with her children smiling inside reminded her of what she was truly
giving up.

GUY DAVID

Come on over, they are having a garage sale down here, every soul for a shekel. They have big souls and small souls, blue souls and red souls, fluffy souls and thorny souls.
I want a lollipop soul on a stick, one with extra sugar. Those are priceless and sexy.
You should check the couch potato souls. They are fat and comfy, and they wont protest either, so transfixed by images from the babble box that they hardly notice reality anymore.
There is a tortured soul. Look at it. It’s useless. Nothing to do with it now. What a waste.

PLANET Z

Excalibur, the Holy Grail, the Ark of The Covenant, – you name it, I’ve picked it up from some family trying to clear out an attic of a house they want to sell.
You see, people just sell their junk and baby stuff at Garage Sales.
Estate Sales, on the other hand, the person who valued the stuff is dead, knew it’s true nature, so it’s a relative trying to get rid of it for some quick cash.
They never know the value of what they’ve got. If they did, they’d be selling it at an auction house or keeping it.