Weekly Challenge – Page 94 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #125 – Hurricane

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Planet Z, and we went with Hurricane.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

FRICKER FRACKER

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

WILMA

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

MORTICIAN

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

STEVEN

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

JEFFREY HITE

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

BRAD Z

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

GUY

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

JUSTIN

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

MIKE

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

TOM

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

ANIMA

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #124 – The Game Twister

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Fricker Fracker, and we went with The Game Twister.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

PLANET Z

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

CeNedra

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

HOLLI

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

STEVEN

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

JUSTIN

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

GUY DAVID

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

JEFFREY

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

TOM

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

FRICKER

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

SOUGENT

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

CALEB

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

HOUSTON KEYS

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

ANIMA ZABALETA

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

Weekly Challenge #123 – Rampaging Chickens

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty-Three, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Brad Z, and we went with Rampaging Chickens.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

FRICKER

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

MIKE LEE

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

MIKE

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

TOM

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

JEFFREY

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

JUSTIN

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

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

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

SOUGENT

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

ANIMA

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

GUY DAVID

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

BRAD Z

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

THOMAS

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

DAPHNE

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

LAIEANNA

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #122 – Breaking and Entering

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

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

BRAD Z

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

FRICKER

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

GUY DAVID

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

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

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

TOM

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

JUSTIN

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

ANIMA

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

ALMO

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

EVA

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

SOUGENT

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

MIKE

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #121 – Green

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

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

GUY

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

TOM

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

THOMAS

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

STEVEN

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

MICHELLE

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

JEFFREY

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

BRAD

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

JUSTIN

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

ANIMA

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

MIKE

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #120 – Olive Loaf

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Twenty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was selected by Planet Z, and we went with Olive Loaf.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

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

MENUBAR

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

BLUESMOKE

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

ELISSON

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

MIKE

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

KEEME

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

BRAD Z

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

EVA MOON

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

TOM

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

JEFFREY

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

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

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

ALMO

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

JUSTIN

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

ANIMA

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

PLANET Z

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

Weekly Challenge #119 – Occupy

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Nineteen, 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 Steven the Nuclear Man, and we went with Occupy.
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 Martians came to liberate us from the Robot Army, but in the end, they just changed the letterhead on the occupation government memos and made things worse.
The pods on our necks itch worse than the identity chips made our palms itch.
Machines lay unattended as we head to the fields, planting the crops our new overlords command us to grow.
“To solve world hunger,” they say.
Have you eaten recently?
Neither have I.
The air is changing. Sunsets are redder. Martians have been seen going around without their breathing masks.
And our aching throats are starting to burn.

LUNETTE

I occupy a small space inside the skull of a human female. I’ve been experimenting on her. I attempted to interface with her nervous system, but it was just a hopeless mess.
Eventually, however, I was able to take control of her fingers and her eyes under certain limited conditions. For example, when she’s seated in front of a computer, she becomes totally distracted, and then I can make her look wherever I want and type whatever I want her to say.
Tonight, I’m attempting, for the first time, to take control of her larynx. So, is it working? Can you hear me?

GUY DAVID

Words of sadness are to occupy this space and time. I have grown weary of my travels, has occupied no home. The road is dusty, and so am I, the dust of time has covered me like a blanket, keeps me cold at night, as my sleep is occupied by haunted dreams, tormented dreams.
To you I’m but a shadow, that thing in the corner you wouldn’t touch with a stick, maybe toss a quarter, just to ease your conscience, maybe get rid of some useless change, but I’m alive, yes I’m alive, just to annoy you, I’m still here.

STEVEN

She adjusts herself on the sheet. The technician straps her in and
steps out of the room. The table slides her towards the scanner’s
large ominous doughnut.
“Hold your breath,” the computerized voice says. A whir, then: “Breathe.”
They saw it first on the x-ray, the little dot now an invading force.
“Hold your breath.” Pause. “Breathe.”
It colonized one lung, lymph nodes, spleen. “Hold your breath. Breathe.”
This is what it must feel like to be Iraq, she imagines. “Hold your
breath.” Her bones ache with cellular Abu Gharibs and Basras. How
much has fallen?
“Breathe.”
“Hold your breath.”

PLANET X

Ah, another warm, lovely morning on the planet Xray.
My morning begins with the ritual of reading the newspaper along with one of my other daily rituals, occupying that little room down the hallway.
There the problem presents itself; I live in one of those cheap hotels on the edge of the spaceport. Of course it only has a common bathroom on each floor and I do so enjoy reading in a relaxing manner.
Despite the sign on the door that I occupy it, there’s always somebody that interrupts me, well, maybe I’ll leave them something to remember me by.

JEFFREY

“This is not what I have been trained for.” I said to Johnson in the other bunk.
“No basic training was a lot of screaming, “What are we going to do? Kill! Kill! Kill!”
“Yeah I remember that.” I said and we laughed.
“What about, What makes the grass grow? Blood! Blood! Blood!” He asked.
“Yeah I remember that too. they should have taught us What makes you sweat more? Occupy! Occupy! Occupy!” I said as we sat here in our tent sweat pouring from every spot on our bodies, wondering why we were, Johnson smiled but we didn’t laugh.

TOM

The Arnestos embraced on the platform. Despite his anger at Allan he knew the man did what was needed, and as such, vowed to learn from the ancient African avatar. At each jumppoint he would study their Books and make the proper adjustments to readjust to a transversing time line.
When the Cronomotive came to a rest Cervantes was greeted to the sound of 200 hands clapping. It reminded him of a, by now, ancient Buddhist joke, he smile, which only caused a louder volley of applause.
They handed him book four on its cover a gold plate read OCCUPY

MIKE

“Well, what about that ‘Superman’ movie, when Clark and the evil Superman merge?” demanded Frank.
“Nope,” countered Jeff. “First off, they weren’t the same person separated by time, they were the same person split apart. So, you could say he was just re-integrating.”
“The best film example I can think of is ‘Timecop’,” Jeff continued, “right near the end, when the Senator’s past and alternate-present selves touch. They kind of melt into each other, and then the whole mess just dissolves. Two objects cannot occupy the same space and time.”
“But, what about…?”
“Okay,” Jeff interrupted, “Take a car wreck…”

ANIMA

I wake from the nightmare in a clammy sweat.
It’s always the same… I have been traveling and I NEED to reach the terminal.
It’s usually a seedy third world country, but sometimes not.
Strangely, once inside, I find myself utterly alone: the other travelers have vanished.
The intercom is sputtering foreign gibberish.
I peer fruitlessly at each door I pass.
Finally, I spot it – that universal icon of relief…
Entering the tiled room, I see hundreds of 50s style stalls, turquoise blue, extending as far as the eye can see. Every indicator knob is in the red –
“OCCUPADO”

THOMAS

“What a piece of crap… desert, cactus, desert, snakes, desert, scorpions, more desert. And even more desert. Why we chose to occupy this ass end of the world is beyond me. We only came here to help the people and we end up annexing the whole stinkin’ place. This war was a waste if you ask me. Those damn invaders deserve this place. Sure, there is a little bit of gold out there in the hills, but our nation is wealthy enough. No good could possibly come from helping to liberate this god-forsaken land from that bastard, General Santa Anna.”

BRAD Z

Lost Cat
Each night I would lie in my bed waiting for Erwin to leave his workshop. I had been reading his work since I’ve lived with him. But now…this recent piece that he was working on… well… it was really concerning me…that’s when I noticed the steel box in the corner that had arrived this evening. Quickly I looked over todays writings…. To prove theory cat is to occupy box with poison and….
The next day a new sign was posted in the towns sqaure.
The sign read: Lost Cat, cat with collar. Please contact Erwin Schrödinger

JUSTIN

Have you even been in a public place, and suddenly you feel your bowels let go? It feels like you have to flatulate, but you know that if you do, you’ll spray paint your underwear and pants. You’ve got to hold on, walking as normal as possible, until you get to a restroom. Then when you get there, there are two stalls, both occupied. One has a parent and child, the parent talking the kid through the procedure. The other has a grunting person who really needs to give a courtesy flush. Hopefully the janitor likes cleaning up the sink.

Weekly Challenge #118 – The Voice

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighteen, 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 Anima Zabaleta, and we went with The Voice.
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):

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Like jasmine, nighttime soft and delicate, heard in the sudden pause of a
dozen conversations.
Like curry, seasoning small talk into sublime soul sharing.
Like molasses, soft and comforting, though we’re “just friends”.
Like pure summer dew, innocent and clear kisses.
Like sugar, delicious and excruciatingly sweet.
Like butter, melting words enhancing our flavor.
Like yellow sliced cheese, once delightful, now blasé.
Like jalepeño, ferocious heat cursing stupid infidelities.
Like ice, a no-taste defined by cold, the absence of heat
Like copper, metallic aftertaste lingering long after the real thing is gone.
Like whiskey, hateful burning but never, ever enough.

MIKE

The interrogation had lasted for hours, seemingly, ‘unsatisfactory’ answers rewarded with increasingly strong jolts of electricity. Jeff writhed in pain.
The last charge had almost knocked him out.
“Tell me!” commanded the voice. “What did you pass to that agent?”
“I can’t say, and you’re supposed to put me on ‘The Box’, not fry me,” he screamed.
“You’re in a box; close enough,” replied the voice. A long sizzle, a longer scream.
Finally: “Tech data for the new radar.”
“Good,” said the voice, pleased. “We had to confirm the data’s validity. By the way – tell your CIA ‘Thanks!’ for us.”

TERRY TEE

Josh woke to the voice “tissue regeneration complete, blood pressure 120 over 68, pulse 55, thank you for using the Nightingale, Mk IV., have a nice day”
Easing the unit’s hatch open, Josh looked around the room, checking for signs of entry. Seeing none, his eyes went to the clock and stopped.
He had been in the med unit for three weeks, he hadn’t thought that the damage was that extensive on his first observation. Well, at least he has a purpose to survive now, if only to hunt down that little red beast that had tried to eat him

GUY DAVID

Chaketo Chirapa was podcasting about the simple things in life, all from his alien perspective. He started out small, not letting much slip out, afraid of being found out, both by his own people and by The Humans. As his listenership grew, his desire to have The Humans trust his little alcove of 118 migrating Chirapa grew even stronger, and he found his voice as a podcaster, a voice pleading for sanctuary, and people listened as his podcast became increasingly popular, and he was mistakenly recognized as a rising and ground breaking voice in fiction by both Sigler and Hutchins.

PLANET X

With the object it in my hand The Voice in my head said “It’s Right”
But I knew that it wasn’t right.
Again The Voice said, “It’s right and you know it”
No, it can’t be right, it just can’t, as far back as my grade school days
I knew it wasn’t right, but then maybe the voice was correct.
The voice said, “now you’re coming around to my way of thinking, it’s right”
Well, no hurt in trying.
Right 15,
now to the left past 15 to 35,
back right, back to 24,
With a click, the lock opened.

ANIMA ZABALETA

Serena, I’m taking off the bandages now… are you ready? Blink once for yes, twice for no…
OK
The Vox in a Box is your 47th procedure… You are arguably the most perfect person alive –
You’ve had all the classics – the tummy, tush, tata trifecta; a complete body lipo; collagen lip injections…..
I must say, of your rarer augmentations, the removable arm quick release and orbital gyros for improved eye rolling are some of my finest work….
Gently now…. Let’s hear how the Vox works. Now you’ll sing like Yma Sumac…
Damn Chinese instructions….
Well then dear, ready for #48?

ALMO

Long, thin fingers held the card to the light.
A green stroke ran down the middle of the white card. He passed it to the heavyset man on his right and said, “One for Richardson.”
He held the next card and saw a yellow stroke. He passed it to the pinched-looking man on his left. The pinched-looking man traced a blue marker over the yellow. He returned the card to the center man, who held it to the light to look at the green mark.
“One for Richardson,” he said, smiling. The Voice of the People would be heard again.

EVA MOON

Alan felt the 15-foot tall papier mache wizard head begin to tip dangerously. Everything had gone so well at dress rehearsal. He’d spent hours learning to manipulate the rods and strings that controlled the wizard’s eyes and mouth while speaking his lines into a mic. The mic was the best part: a special filter gave him The Voice – deep, resonant and superbly wizardy. But now it was opening night of The Wizard of Oz. The Redmond High School theatre was filled to capacity and disaster loomed. The head teetered precariously. Munchkins scrambled for cover.
“OH CRAP!” the voice boomed.

THOMAS MERKEL

“Hey! It’s about time you made your way back.” A familiar voice jarred Eddie back. Blinking rapidly, Eddie tried to get his bearings, remembering where he was. Eddie was… almost… but not quite… dead. Always slipping between life and death, and back again. He preferred death over life. The voice kept calling him back, refusing to let him rest in peace. Every time he thinks he’s finally made it, his mother’s voice calls him. He would kill her, but he listened to her enough on this side of existence. He just could not think of listening to her for eternity.

BRAD

Today is my day, you must pick me!
No no pick me
You both went last time
You know you want to pick me
Don’t pick her; we can’t handle another day like that.
Oh shut up, your days are horrific
I am the only one who knows, you must pick me
Everyone knows you know nothing
You are all a worthless infection to him, I banish you all
Shut up Fred
You can’t banish us you little shrew.
In the morning I often just go with the loudest voice for my personality pick of the day.

JUSTIN

That voice, that terrible, horrible voice. I have heard it ever since I came to this place. Strange creatures with odd, legs, come here and some sort of spawn comes from them. I am forced to help them carry their strange, bulky things for them. The voice is always speaking to me, driving me mad. Above, in the skies, those, things, are always there, screaming their blasphemous cries into the atmosphere. I cannot take it any more, the voice, it is driving me to madness! The voice, there it is… “The white zone is for loading and unloading passengers only.”

PLANET Z

The voice.
I wish I had never heard it.
And yet, now that I’ve heard it, I need it.
Nobody believes that I heard the voice.
They think I’m crazy.
But I’m not.
I heard it.
And it was beautiful.
Once you hear such a voice, everything else is noise. Ugly. Revolting.
That’s why I did what I did, and if you try to put me through the surgery to repair my ears, I’ll just drill deeper.
Now, everything’s quiet.
I think I like it that way.
And I’m ready to hear the voice when it speaks to me again.

Weekly Challenge #117 – Oil

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Seventeen, 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 Tom, and we went with Oil.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

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

ANIMA

FAMILY MATTERS
Hiya Castor, I can’t talk, I’m getting ready for a date….
No, it’s not Hamgravy
No, not Brutus …
Not the sheik…. No, it’s not the movie producer… Eww not him – he was too greasy…
This guy’s soooo handsome, He’s a sailor! How I love a man in uniform…
I AM NOT A SLUT! That’s a terrible thing to say about your sister…
Yes, yes….I will tell Cylinda… yea, you still love her…. You really need to get over
her, big brother… how ’bout I set you up with one of my girlfriends?
YOU WOULD NOT GET A DISEASE!! You’re awful!!

BRAD Z

The Sam n Ella Calamity — Oil Issues
A dark viscous liquid dripped slowly into a large pool that had formed beneath the craft.
“Found the problem, crack in the crankcase.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Might take a while, I’ll need that oil can from the storage closet.”
“Ummm.”
“Umm what, we need the can in order to go.”
“The safety inspector removed it.”
“What!”
“Didn’t want to contaminate the area by accident he said.”
“We’re so screwed”
Vibrations reverberated around them as a herd of brontosaurs ran through the valley below.
“Maybe we can squeeze some oil out of them.”
“You know that’s a myth right?”

GUY DAVID

The sailor was suspended 20 feet above the deck in a cage. He recognized the growth on the banks of the sea, so he started swinging the cage, trying to get to a certain plant. He succeeded in cutting a piece of the plant with his pipe, but failed to catch it. It fell straight down where the thin tall woman caught it with her mouth. Immediately, her muscles flexed and she flew into the air, Matrix style, and landed the sailor a sucker punch. “Good one” laughed Bluto, then he strolled towards the sunset with his beloved Olive Oyl.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Jim nearly bounced in his cleansuit and waved the rest of the lab
over. He pointed at the display, where the genetically modified
amoeba was eating a grey dot and excreting a small black drop.
Everyone cheered, except Sandra. She was new, and was still learning
names and projects. Jim saw, and his gloved hands grabbed the
shoulders of her cleansuit.
“I’ve made an organism that eats plastic and excretes oil! It’s a
perfect recycler! The shortage is over!”
They were all so excited that they missed the black drop running down
the edge of the lab’s plastic air seals.

TOM

Little Earl loved oil. Probably got it from Big Earl or maybe Old Earl. In the panhandle the people say the oil is in the blood. If it was in there Little Earl hadn’t a clue. He was only six and the gurgling black crude that set his progenitors’ hearts a fire wasn’t the color that delighted his young heart. Little Earl drove Big Earl crazy asking when it was going to rain. “When it comes we’ll all go down to the Kmart,” said Old Earl. Little Earl loved the oil puddles in the parking lot. They made rainbows.

EVAMOON

She turned in bed and glanced at the clock. 3 am. She sighed. Why hadn’t she listened to her mother’s warning never to fall for a sailor? Always out on that rickety fishing boat and he barely made enough to feed his family. But there was always enough for his habit: That evil green weed. She’d begged him to give it up, but he kept sucking down can after can of his “spinach.”
She thought of running off with that dark-haired man who was always after her.
“Oh stop,” she scolded herself, “Olive Oyl, you know you’ll never leave him.”

THE GREAT HITES

And not a drop to drink
“Albert! You aren’t drilling another well are you?”
“Ma, you know we got to find some. We are going dry here. It is about darn time we had our own supply.”
“But Albert, you ain’t had nothing but bad luck with that in the past, and look at the state our yard is in.”
“This time will be different.”
“That is what you said the last few times and look where it gotch ‘ya.”
“Would you please lay off ma?”
“No, we need water to drink and all you keep doing drilling is oil.”

THOMAS MERKEL

“Whoa, what did your mother feed you?” Justin said to Melody, his new baby.
“What the?…” he thought. “Note to self. Next time I get a hazmat suit.”
Gently wiping her bottom, he calmed her while stating the obvious, “Clean and dry.”
He surveyed his surroundings. Babies need way more stuff than I ever imagined. Just stuff. Baby powder…baby wipes…baby lotion…and baby oil.
“Baby oil!” His thoughts raced into overdrive.
She just wanted a massage. Right. One thing led to another and… Voile!
Baby.
Those bottles should really come with a warning label: “Caution: Can cause babies!”

JUSTIN

The necromancer raised his robed arms, gnarled hands pointing towards
the void between stars. Purple light snaked from his mouth with evil
incantations. The purple light encircled headstones. Earth acquiesced
to rising dead. Dusty moans and bony chattering marched towards the
stronghold.
Bony soldiers advanced, bones creaking, arrows loosed from the walls
of the stronghold. The shafts passed through ribs or glanced off
hardened skulls. By magic, they climbed the walls. Boiling oil was
poured, covering the skeletons. The bones were turned black and the
old joints ceased creaking. They sealed their doom by unwittingly
creating black, silent ninja skeletons.

ALMO

“Well, that’s the last barrel,” said one of the last two employees at the last oil refinery on Earth. “That’s all there is.”
“The people from the Smithsonian will be here soon to collect it,” said his partner, inhaling the gassy aroma for the final time. It brought back memories of tigers in your tank, winged horses, shells.
“So, what do you want to do while we wait,” the first man asked.
The second got a manic teenage grin.
They siphoned 20 gallons from the last barrel of gasoline that would ever be and they practically sprinted toward the Camaro.

HOUSTON

The jet black slicked back pompadour of Vinnie’s shone with its
brilliant luster. It was his pride, his source of power.
The other Jets used to tell him if an Arab could sink an oil well into
his hair they could pump out enough oil to run Jersey for two, three
years. Exxon had nothing on Vinnie Baggodonuts and he and the other
Jets ran wild and free in the streets.
One dark night in Brooklyn, the sharks caught him outside his turf
after dark, and with a shiny new Zippo they lit him up like a Kuwaiti
oil well.

CRAIG

I turned the bottle on its head, gurgle gurgle is all it said.
Receiving it’s taste I give thanks to the Italian mystery.
Olive oil in my veins swirling then merging with life.
I’m insane in my big leather chair pouring Carapelli down my chest.
The oil spreads out pooling in my lap, slowly covering jeans in green.
Olive oil in my veins becoming my life, but not my wife.
Drip, drip, the IV serves the earthy elixir, slowly eons of dust circulates in my heart.
I become one with the peasants, skin wrinkling, vision waning, mouth drying.
Olive oil.

PLANET Z

They followed the Yellow Brick Road out of the fields into the forest.
“Oil! Oil!”
Dorthy and the Scarecrow stopped.
There was a man made of metal by the side of the road. And in his hand, an axe.
“What should we do?” she asked.
The Scarecrow looked the man up and down.
“He’s made of tin,” he said. “Let’s haul him to the salvageyard.”
The Salvageman of Oz paid them fifty bucks.
“Fifty bucks!” she laughed. “We sure aren’t in Kansas anymore!”
They took a cab to Emerald City, avoiding the big pussy and sleepy field of poppies altogether.

Weekly Challenge #116 – Popular Mechanics

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixteen, 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 Tom of Footnote, and we went with Popular Mechanics.
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):

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The wrench flies from the engine, close enough that I taste flecks of
rust. Grandfather yells, a balding series of spheres in the front
seat. I already know I’m worthless, thanks. I wipe the grease onto
my ruined shirt, he dabs a pressed handkerchief at his forehead.
The wrench and my hand slide back in. It – he won’t identify it –
must be held just so. The key cranks, washing the smell of exhaust
and gasoline over me.
The car roars to life. He lumbers inside, shouting how he fixed the car.
The wrench smashes a beautiful music through the windshield.

JEFFREY

Going Down with the Ship
The sirens Rang out all over the ship.
“What the hell is going on?” The captain asked over yet another explosion.
“Sir, we seem to be having some problems,” The engineer answered with a sheepish smile on his face.
“I’m getting that feeling, can you be a bit more specific?”
“Well sir, that is a problem, see the book does not mention anything like this.”
“What book? What are you talking about?”
“The book, the one that I get all the ideas from.”
“Show me this book,” he pulled out an ancient looking magazine. The title barely legible, ‘Popular Mechanics.

GUY DAVID

Chaketo Chirapa was reading an edition of Popular Mechanics. It amused him how human technology resembled early Chirapa technology, but failed to capture some of the essence that was the heart of that technology. He was especially amused by Jay Leno’s Garage. The view of the famous television show host seemed to be especially distorted and misinformed. The laws of mechanics would bent in his column into a new shape altogether. Chaketo Chirapa had no illusions about Chirapa technology though, and he often mused in his podcast about the way Chirapa science and technology would advance in the foreseen future.

THOMAS

The Saga of the Carson Brothers Body Shop
Fred and George Carson were the most popular mechanics in the tri-state area. They weren’t the kind to fix automobiles, or even young ladies in low budget pornos. They fixed bodies.
The dollars rolled in as their fame grew. The rich, the very rich, and the damned, sought the young brother’s services: limb augmentations, neural transmitters, ocular replacements. Everything was coming up roses, albeit genetically enhanced ones. Eventually, the enhancements stopped working and people started dying, realizing too late the energizer bunny doesn’t live forever.
Quietly, the brothers flew to Cancun and retired…sorry, but richer…a lot richer.

MARY EDITH

Cleaning out grandma’s attic was like going back in time. In the corner was a Popular Mechanics from 1902!
Inventions:
-The Vacuum Cleaner: Will it lead to uppity home-makers?
-The Submersible: What leviathans of the deep await?
Opinion section:
-Alternating Current- a death-trap in every home T. Edison
Interviews:
-Robert Falcon Scott on new Horse-Based Vehicles vs. primitive dog sleds in the race to the South Pole
-Roosevelt’s Gun Cabinet: The president guides us through his collection from the Winchester Moose Whacker to the ladylike Beretta Butterfly Blunderbuss
And slipped between the pages? An article rejection letter! Poor Grandpa Tesla.

ROBERT

She gets crazy sometimes, with these machines; like you couldn’t drag her away, but what’s to do?
She made this little robot with pigtails and a bright bunched up face just like hers, and took it to school for show and tell, and the thing told the story of it’s life, which was like two days long, beginning with it’s slick metal brain being screwed, finally, into place. I guess everybody loved the thing, because Sarah came home, alone again, and without a word went back to her tiny pink laboratory, the door closing smoothly, ending with a “snick”.

JUSTIN

Lenny fixed everyone’s car. The competitor, Charles, had to close shop
because Lenny’s such a popular mechanic. Charles is still bitter.
Lenny used to swear constantly. Even a slight bang on his knuckles
would get him cursing. When his wife gave birth to their baby, he made
the promise to stop cussing as best as he could. He still cursed at
work sometimes when something really bad happened.
One day while Lenny was working under a car, Charles knocked the jack
out from under with a sledge hammer. The car fell, crushing Lenny’s
legs.
“Aw Charles, still peeved are you?”

ANIMA

POPULAR QUANTUM MECHANICS
Uncertain about your uncertainty principle?
Then you need Popular Quantum Mechanics
The magazine that explains the unexplainable.
Learn how to play the ponies in a parallel universe and win!
Surfing tips for finding the break in your wave formation.
Bonus Blueprints! Diagrams for decks using Planck’s Constant!
Popular Quantum Mechanics.
Where it doesn’t count until you’re out of options.
Looking for something a little lighter, try the subsubcompact “Nanotech News”, where smaller is bigger and a thousand copies fit on the head of a pin.
Popular Quantum Mechanics and Nanotech News, available at W.H. Smith, in all the finer Cosmodromes

SOUGENT 1

As he lay there, all he could think of was the initiation that was to
happen tonight.
It was an exclusive group, almost a secret society. Only the best of
the best got an invite, he’d worked his entire life to prepare, to be
the best so that one day he could be part of the elite.
His father was a member, and his father before him, to fail wasn’t an
option for him, he’d disgrace the family if he failed.
Was he ready? Yes, absolutely.
It’s time….. after tonight, he’d be a member of the Brotherhood of
Popular Mechanics.

SOUGENT 2

When I was a kid I used to go over to my Grandfathers house and he had
a whole stack of Popular Mechanics magazines from the 50’s and 60’s.
I used to spend hours and hours reading them.
I especially liked the articles on the flying submarine, and how to
build your own 30 foot sailboat. And then there was the article
about the what future would be like in the 21st century, the time
we’re living in now.
It didn’t get much right, except for the clothing, that they got
right. Too bad, I really wanted a flying car.

TOM

Mrs. Manicotti complained about a gurgling sound in the back end of her car. Mrs. Genivalce keep hearing a sound sort of like a screaming cat coming from her trunk. Mrs. Leonie hadn’t an idea where the noise was coming from but Rudy of Miracle Automotive always listened politely to the old women’s explanations, went about the task at hand. With a 100mm spanner rapped in a towel Rudy or one of his sons successfully ending the noise. In Little Italy they were very Popular Mechanics.
On the way to the Jersey landfill Rudy thought how threemorsongatastic his job was.

PLANET Z

Break time!
No, I’m not gonna hang out with the losers in the metal shop and the geeks in the datacenter. Ugh!
I’m gonna hang out with the popular mechanics in the repair shed.
Oh, Johnny, the way he sets that oscilloscope. Make my heart beat faster! Faster!
Bobby’s got the coolest flip-top googles. Brings out the blue in his eyes. Totally rad.
And Dave oh, Dave the way he strips and degreases an engine. I wish he’d do that to me some time.
What? It’s two?
Break’s over. Oh well.
I hate work. This place is so high school.

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

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	Cenedra from http://censtwocents.blogspot.com/
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	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Fricker from http://www.thefrickerfrequency.com/
	Sougent from http://sladvofsougent.blogspot.com/
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	Houston Keys from http://tatertotsforthemasses.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/

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	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Steven the Nuclear Man from http://www.ideatrash.com
	Sougent from http://sladvofsougent.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
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	Daphne from http://daphneabernathy.com
	Laieanna from http://hodgepodgepoint.libsyn.com/
	Planet Z

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Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #122?
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	Steven points to War In South Ossetia
	Tom
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
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	Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
	Craig from Wash The Bowl
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