Weekly Challenge #311 – Sick

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Ten, 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 sick.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

Tura
Thomas and his new book!
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Chris Munroe
Serendipity Haven
Logan Berry
Sevi
Bonchance
Guy David
Steven Saus and the books at Amazon!
Zackmann
Red Goddess/TalkMarie
Lizzie Gudkov
Danny
Cliff
Norval Joe
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post…

Obligatory cat photo:

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

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TURA

Zaprut is the oldest city of which we have any record. Only its name survives, for the city was overtaken by a calamity so sudden, and so total, that none survived to say what befell it.

The name became synonymous with disaster, and in Roman times, hearing of some military debacle, senators would angrily declare, “Sic Zaprut!” — “thus was Zaprut!” fearing that Rome itself might pass the same way.

And that is why, nowadays, when a footballer wishes to express the depth of his emotion when his team loses a match, he will profess to being “sick as a parrot”.

THOMAS

I’m sick. My eyes swollen, my ears ring,

I have a rash all over my thing.

When I walk, I stumble, my intestines rumble,

my nose is dripping, I’m constantly tripping.

My chest tight, my bowels are loose,

my guts feel like they’re in a noose.

My breath is stinky, I can’t use my winky.

My livers hard, my spleen is jumpy,

The back of my neck is red and bumpy.

My throat is tight, my teeth are loose,

my tongue tastes like mildewed moose,

No work for me today, but no work, no pay.

Oh, wait,

it’s a Holiday!

CHRIS THE NUCLEAR KID

Winter is Near

I walked and walked occasionally tripping over the immense weaving of roots and scratches covered my arms, legs, and face. It had been about two months when I first started my journey and it was getting colder so I knew it was nearly winter. I kept walking for a while then stopped to rest and eat.

Setting up the tent I had brought with me, I went to sleep. The next morning however, I felt sick. Looking around I noticed it had snowed during the night, which explained why I was feeling sick. Over the night I’d caught a cold.

MUNSI

I’m gonna drop some sick beats.

No, seriously, these beats are the sickest. You ain’t never heard beats this sick.

These beats are so sick the CDC has declared them a class one biohazard, and warned that exposure to them isn’t safe, dog.

The death rate from exposure to these beats is 96%, and they’re airborne, bro!

That’s right, airborne! No body-fluid contact required for transferral of these sick beats!

These beats are the sickest. The sickest!!!

…and unless the United Nations meets my demands, I will drop these beats.

You have been warned. You have twenty-four hours to comply.

SERENDIPITY

This is why you should always proofread your copy! Who’d have thought losing a single letter could cause so much grief?

“WANTED – Slick individuals who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer” – that’s what the ad should have said, but some bozo at the agency dropped the ‘L’ from ‘slick’.

Which is why I’m sifting through résumés with hobbies that include doing rather gruesome things to ducks and; ‘modelling with earwax’.

Then George turned up for his interview…

“So, why should I give you this job, George?”

He opened his jacket, revealing an arsenal of scalpels.

I gave him the job!

LOGAN BERRY

Genvie and Tolly had a contest: who could be the worst, in one week? Genvie kicked things off by parking illegally in a handicap zone at a mall, while she leisurely shopped for a new soft toy for her cat, Stinky. Tolly shared a dorm room with an academic exchange student from Indonesia, whom he made cry by shaving her head she was asleep.

Genvie kept saying she ”could are less” when she meant she ”couldn’t care less”. Tolly drove below the speed limit in busy highway traffic. Genvie painted an abstract picture in shades of yellow, to which she glued golden raisins in a random pattern.

The shellfish in Tolly’s ciopinno was so aggrariously undercooked that seven of his twelve guests were violently ill, and one died. Genvie purchased a shotgun and killed her next door neighbor, Gus, for continually allowing his dog out onto the roof at 6 a.m. on weekday mornings, where he barked and disturbed the neighbors. ”That was really sick,” Tolly admitted to Genvie on visiting day. ”You win.”

SEVI

Sick

Sick…
Of my life
Selected for me
No reason to go on
With the charade
All the lies

Sick…
Of him
His power
The control
Unable to make my own decisions
To live in a free world

Sick…
Of instilled fear
A life full of coercion
Unrelenting rules
No flexibility
To be who I want to be

Sick…
Of the lies
The ongoing propaganda
To be someone I am not
Trying to squeeze into an iron mold
It constrains me

Sick…
Of this world
The Earth
The Wind
The Fire
The Water

I am begging, transcend my soul to heaven.

BONCHANCE

The Car

Dave set out to buy a safe car for his daughter.
He was regretting his purchase.

It had everything on his list and within budget.

His wife followed as he drove the gift to his daughters apartment.
A kid must have been the previous owner, all black inside and out,
black rims, black tinted windows, oversized tailpipe. He only hoped his
daughter wouldn’t think it too hideous to drive.

He parked, stepped to the curb when a passing young man said
“dude sick car!”. He nodded confirming the judgment but
then noticed it was meant as a compliment.

He smiled.

GUY

The yellow acid known as a lemon smashed through my mouth, distributing throughout my body. I should have known that it would contain the virus. I could feel the nanobots working up and down my body, changing it. I knew what was coming. I’ve seen it happen to many of my friends before, too many. My body would change, my memories would fade and I would no longer be. Who knows which terrorist group released the virus. Maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe it was a madman in a basement somewhere. The end result – we are all ending up as trees.

STEVEN

She was sick. Lied about everything- her parents, her past. Did drugs and fucked her lovers in front of the infant. Blew a grand on a drug fueled orgy when we were reconciling.

Her child was sick. It explains the shit smeared on the wall, the threats and violence, the last videotaped assault, the knife and murder plan hidden under his bed.

His second mother was sick. Her father’s abuse, a string of others, the reinfected by the violent child. Gone now – maybe healing, maybe not.

But I see the common factor.

He’s in the mirror.

Time to heal.

TOM

Hello America I’m Morgan Freeman and I’m here this evening at the 100 word challenge at podcasting.is.fullofcrap.com to share with you the tragic tale of Tommy M. Yes dear listeners Tommy appears to be a normal health young man, but lurking under the surface is a silent killer.

Tommy suffers from a terminal case of Objectphela a compulsive drive to attain 100 mid-century objects. This condition is triggered by viewing the Lionsgate production of The Lost Room. Yes see Tommy blankly staring at ebay listings scrolling untill his fingers bleed.

I found the Motorola 17t13

Sad. Give so more may live.

ZACKMANN

I think I got that new mutation of the bird flu. Being the whitest of white boys, I should have seen my doctor when people started complimenting me on my dancing. Good dancing is the first sign of the Disturbed Strain of the bird flu virus. No really, it was on the news and everything. The worst thing was when I started growing feathers.The feelings of hate and anger were no treat. It was bad enough I could not stop physical activity until fainting from exhaustion. You can say that I got up and got down with the sickness.
zackmann

REDGODDESS

Lola was on alert to fight back sneaky germs during the flu season. She stocked on multi-vitamins, ginger roots and cold medications for a month’s worth. She’s been exposed to some sick zombies leaking fluids from everywhere. On the trains, she noticed some couldn’t breathe. While few were always on the brink of sneezing. Others were coughing non-stop in their oversized coats with tissues on the other hand. The rest were too weak to even dry their red droopy eyes. Lola was determined to beat these viruses before plotting and snatching their chance to trap her to a sick bed.

LIZZIE

Hidden in the corner of the attic under piles of dusty newspapers, she noticed a trunk. Inside, amongst old diaries, curls of hair and baby shoes, there was a letter dated 1905. She read through “… dangerous and… are sick. Stay away…. has purple eyes. Do not marry him… become killers…” She was shocked. Who was this person? Above the trunk was an old mirror. She looked up and she understood. The stranger did marry into the family despite the warning letter, because she too had purple eyes and this inexplicable urge that had driven her to a complete solitude.

DANNY

My dog peed on the carpet again! I had just taken him out two times in the past 40 minutes, yet he still pees right on the carpet. I can’t leave the litte monster alone, so I decide to sleep on the floor in an attempt to keep him from peeing on the carpet. Background noise from the television finally lulls me to sleep, the dog nestles beside me. I eventually dream of being trapped at the bottom of a foul, polluted waterfull. I suddenly wake up to a face full of urine from the back end of my dog. Sick.

CLIFF

The Waiting

“The king is dying,” the cry went up.
As my father lay still, all manner of charlatans came to the palace. Shamen and healers plied their craft, but his majesty did not awake. Physicians used leaches. Mystics burned incense. An exorcist cast out demons. Still, Good King Leonard did not stir. All in the land who claimed power over disease took their turn to no avail. All, that is, except the old alchemist up on Watchtower Hill, the one that sold me the poison. When my father finally died and made me king, the old man would receive his reward.

Hey, Mort! Did you hear about Mary’s kid?
What, the trouble maker? What did he do now?
He just came back from the dead, that’s all.
Dead? I didn’t even know he was sick.
He wasn’t sick, you idiot. The Romans crucified him.
Ooh, that’s gotta smart. That’s a tough way to go, ya know?
Doesn’t matter. He ain’t dead no more.
What are you talking about? Dead’s dead.
Nope. Some folks saw him walking around. Said he was going to bring eternal life to everyone.
Thomas, I swear you’ll believe anything. I’m hungry. C’mon. Let’s go find some eggs.

NORVAL JOE

“Some prince you seem to be.” The ranger laughed as he stood over the vomiting elf. “No stomach for the lesser forms of life?”
“Don’t badger his highness, Traveler” Shareeka said. “That trait is one of the reasons we need him along. He’ll feel sick whenever goblins are near.”
“What about Spleen?” Owen asked. “Will the half-goblin still go with us?”
The wizardess chanted some words and the elf climbed shakily to his feet.
“You could have warded the creature before we met,” the prince said, “and saved me the discomfort.”
“Yes,” Shareeka said, controlling a wicked smile. “I know.”

PLANET Z

The comedian Spike Milligan wanted to have his tombstone inscribed with the phrase “I told you I was ill.”

However, despite his fame and stature in society, the church said no. Apparently, they followed the principle of John Waters the filmmaker, who said that he wanted a plain tombstone with just his name because humor ages, and eternity is too long for a joke.

The church and Spike came to a compromise, where the phrase would be added to his tombstone translated into Irish.

John Waters, on the other hand, is still alive, and his pencil-thin mustache remains fabulously rakish.