Weekly Challenge #336 – Broken

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 Thirty-Six, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was Broken.

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

• Jeffrey
• Tura
• Munsi
• Thomas
• Serendipidy Haven
• Lizzie
• Merry o’Casey
• Zackmann
• RedGoddess
• Brokali
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Taralyn
• Danny
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Kimianne
• Planet Z

The next weekly challenge is on the topic of football.

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… this obligatory cat photo should help make the Internet go faster:

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JEFFREY

Sales Call
by Jeffrey Fischer

They called me broken down, career over. It’s true I’ve had my setbacks. My sales numbers aren’t what they used to be, and I know I would have landed the Carson account back in my prime.

Still, this old boy has some fight in him. Stan, my boss, said I needed to win this account or I was out. No excuses. I swore I’d have the signed docs on his desk by tomorrow, and I don’t intend to fail.

You’re comfortable, right? The duct tape isn’t wrapped too tightly? Nod if you agree. Now just sit pat. When the deal is signed, I’ll be back to untie you. Don’t look at me like that. I’ll do it. I’m not broken.

TURA

I had an idea of the perfect pot. An idea so fragile that it trembled when I thought of it.

I spent two months making it, turning the finest clay on a kick-driven wheel (no soulless electric contraption would do), carving the designs, and then multiple rounds of painting, glazing, and firing.

But something went wrong in the final firing. I don’t know what. Too hot, too cool, too long, too short… The pot distorted and cracked.

But this is modern art! Who cares what it looks like! So I’ll just exhibit it as is. I’ll call it “Broken Pot”.

MUNSI

Why I Never Get Anything Done

By Christopher Munroe

I sit, trying to write, but all I can think about is Point Break.

Love that film…

The Swayze is at the peak of his power, invincible, and what passes for the plot is so wildly over the top that it’s impossible to watch without a big, dopey grin.

Even Keanu isn’t too objectionable. But it’s not like his acting chops are being particularly stretched…

It’s as perfect a dumb actioner as could be, and yes, I should be writing, and yes, I don’t have time for a movie, but still…

Point Break, man…

Screw it, productive work can wait…

THOMAS

The spindle was broken, and the 45 was not centered on the turntable. Everyone at the party was too whacked to manage the record player. The Rolling Stones’ tune, Satisfaction, played on through the night. The distorted and repeated tune made everything and everyone even more contorted. As the record spun, it produced a wow and swoosh as the needle danced across the vinyl. Two beautiful, black women embraced inside the bathtub, and didn’t stop making out if anyone went inside to use the toilet while they were there. I went outside, across the street, and watched the house vibrate.

##

The party was in San Francisco. A guy across the room remarked about the toenails on my chair being too red, and I, threatened by his familiarity, told him to shut up or I’d break him. My date had re-familiarized herself with her old boyfriend. He supplied all the chemicals that night, made with his lab and tools he took with him from a British chemical company when he moved to the States. Brian was the first, white collar, industrial spy I knew. He financed his lifestyle and two-story apartment with formulas and processes he sold to his American employer.

##

She was a broken woman. She lost her job at the coffee house, and her boyfriend broke up with her after catching her running around with his friend. He spread despicable and ugly rumors about her, and everyone was afraid to get close to her. She dyed her brown hair, blond, and went to law school. After college, she found herself writing books and moving into a career as a speaker, columnist and television personality. Never able to get her body weight above 60 pounds, Ann has been accused of being a pre-op transexual because of her prominent Adams’ apple.

##

Bill was broke. He sold all his books and records, gathered his essentials together, and fitted his ‘72 Oldsmobile as his home on wheels. He drilled a hole in the floor of the back seat so he could relieve himself, inconspicuously, at night while parked in the Walmart lot. He’d curl up in his sleeping bag, crack the front window a bit for air, and sleep until sunrise. No one bothered him, but he had to put up with another car dweller parked nearby. She fell in love with Bill, and wanted to move in with him. Bill drove away.

SERENDIPITY

My dad was not the most patient of men. He had his own way of fixing broken household goods: Whatever the problem, televisions, washing machines, vacuum cleaners, even broken-down automobiles could all be repaired with a good hard thump, clout or kick.

Occasionally he’d find success and the hapless piece of equipment would stutter onwards until the next violent ‘repair’ became necessary, but, inside… loosened components, cracked circuits and broken connections told a different story.

In the end, no matter how hard he thumped them – they stayed broken.

I could have told him that.

It never worked on me.

LIZZIE

“There was a war, a long time ago,” said the father. “They conquered the world.”

A broken fighter plane had been rusting in the open field.

“Is that why we can’t talk?” the son asked.

His father looked around fearing someone had heard them.

“Don’t say those things, son, you’ll get us in trouble,” the father whispered. “I think we should remove this junk and clean the field.”

The son crossed his arms.
“You know what? I think we should leave it, Dad. One day I’ll bring my son here and tell him about the war, so we don’t forget…”

MERRY

Space Storm by Merry O’Casey

Life’s turbulence is circumscribed by grace
of limited expectancy, its form
as nebulous and changing as a storm,
as anchored by our atmosphere from space.

When she stormed out saying she needed space, her anger made me so angry. How petty our arguments seem against the measure – well, against any measure, really. Against the broader measure of our own lives’ spans, or against the greater intensity of the suffering of refugees or tortured prisoners or mine slaves. Such indulgence: to have a quarrel about nothing at all.

And against the measure of space, and its storms? “Petty” doesn’t begin to describe – and I don’t mean to belittle her emotions or even mine by putting it all in perspective. I only wonder, why couldn’t we have parted normally, casually, that morning of all mornings?

Or desperate ridiculous desire: why could we not have known this was our final parting and given one another some token kindness to carry, she to wherever it is she’s drifting, I to where I’m bound.

Bound for nowhere but simply bound, aimless and earthbound, I look up at the stars on those nights when a few can still be seen, and curse the storm that carried her ship adrift in space.

Curses aimed at the infinite are unsatisfying. All there is to find at fault, are our own limitations: our inability to see any moment together, even a moment of annoyance, as better than time forever apart.

ZACKMANN

“His parents are divorced so he comes from a broken home
He does not fit well into our restroom but he will go outside because
he is housebroken.
He sang nerdcore in a band called Front and Centeur but he and
Frontalot broke up.
He has a girlfriend who works in a bookstore. He has gone broke buying books.
Her parents didnt like her dating a Centeur and now he is heartbroken.”
“I said I wanted a broke horse for children to ride at my kiddy
carnival but get him a background check because we have a position for
him.”

REDGODDESS

Lola walks toward the hotel garage to check the areas before leaving. As she approached the rear of the building, she notices a broken window on one of the cars and a man placing objects into a bag. Lola tiptoes toward the exit door to page security. Her heart is beating fast; she decides to go against all of her common sense and charge the burgler. That is the last thing she remembers. She is awoken by a kiss, her mans smile. She is in a hospital.
“Who did this?” He asks. She looks at her broken arm and curses.

###

Lola takes a deep breath and reaches for his hand. He seems so sincere when they’re together. He knows she wants to wait and that her heart has been broken before, he tells her it is okay with his dark eyes. Lola touches his beautiful lips with her finger and tells him to be quiet. She traces an ice cube down his muscular neck and shoulders, she kisses his rugged skin. “I’m ready,” she whispers. He lifts her onto the wooden table in the dining room she looks at the door hoping no one comes in as they become one.

BROKALI

I got the call at seven.

” Brokali?”

“Yes.”

“He finally did it, killed himself getting groceries, meet us at headquarters.”

Headquarters is a secret place for 100 word geeks.

“You’ll have to take over.”

“I can’t handle his workload. He has Sims, weekly challenges, people actually attend his events. He has cats.”

I went into a full panic. I passed out and was put on an IV, hospitalized, I turned and to my surprise I saw Crap Mariner.

“I thought you were dead.”

“Worse, I’ve broken my arm and need robot screws .”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

BONCHANCE AND SEVI

Broken

Have you ever heard that saying “you never forget how to ride a bike, no matter how long it’s been”?
Just climb back up and take off! Weeee!!!

What they don’t tell you is that you forget how to maintain your maturity once mounted.

The first 3 jumps went smoothly. I was over confident and thinking I was that cool, freewheeling, kid with no fear.
Yes, doc I know “how lucky” and fortunate to “only” have one broken leg and a dozen cracked ribs.

Yes doc, I know to be more careful next time…Yes doc, I know I’m not sixteen!

Broken 2

Pablo, the black and white spaniel and his pal Sparkles, the obese calico, sporting a bright pink ribbon, had broken a rule on their last adventure.
The regulations dictated that they needed to get prior approval from “The Chairman”.

Sparkles pled the 5th when Pablo inquired about his knowledge of the rules.

Every neighborhood had their big bully but all knew that they ultimately answered to Chairman Meow.
Molly and Maggie the twin wiener dogs gave Pablo a little book of the neighborhood rules for future reference.

Sparkles ordered Pablo to take the rap and meet with Chairman Meow immediately.

Broken 3

John and George sat in the living room chatting about football.
“How long will you be in town John?”
“Just for today George, I was really hoping to connect with Linda”

“She is out shopping today, he snapped”

John noticed a bloody fingerprint on their wedding photo, the glass in the frame was broken.
In the hall, an edge of a suitcase was in view. That large mirror Linda loved from Italy was missing.

John stood telling himself to act natural. He shook George’s hand and left.
His back felt exposed as he turned from George and quickly walked away.

TARALYN

NO TEXT

DANNY

The worst thing your orthopaedic surgeon can tell you is there is to much swelling in your broken leg, your going to have to spend at least a week in bed with your leg elevated above your heart so the swelling will go down enough that a cast can actually be placed on your leg. That is what I was told when I was 19, after falling off a rope swing while drunk, landing on the banks of the Delaware river, breaking my lower right leg in the process. I spent that summer of my life in bed, and it sucked.

CLIFF

The interrogator had promised to break me. He told me that every man could be broken given enough time. I had laughed at him. That was weeks ago. Since then, there has been deprivation, torture both physical and mental, and always the question.
“What is two plus two?”
This morning, he came into my cell, gave me my clothes back, and announced that I was cured and was free to go.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You didn’t break me.”
“What is two plus two?” he asked.
I replied “It’s still four.”
“Exactly,” he said and left the room.

TOM

It was my last semester at the JR College. I was 3 months from turning 40. If I had been 40 that fateful night I wouldn’t have been in the gym in front of a volleyball net. At the time I thought how much trouble could I get in tapping a ball around. Hour one I take a hard step forward and feel a foot behind me smash into the back of my ankle. I yell, “What the fuck did you do?” The problem was the guy was a good 12 feet away. “Dude you ripple out your Achilles tendon.”

NORVAL JOE

“How is this goblin cube going to save us, Shareekwa?” Owen asked.
“Simply this, Owen. The Door of the Goblin King is an enchanted way-stone. There are compass stones constructed near every goblin-tribe settlement. This stone will transport us from one to another.
“I’m sure Elbownor knows the incantation. Come. Let’s find the compass stone.”
The company spread out and searched the forest as they walked toward the goblin village.
“Just before sunset. Traveler called out, “Found it.”
The company gathered around a pile of broken stones.
“We should camp here tonight,’ The ranger said, “I’ll try to fix it.”

KIMI

The small robed man rubbed his freshly shaven head in a

circular motion. He had burst into the kitchen and half yelled

“rats!” over and over, along with a stream of what may have

been Tibetan. Geshe was normally such a quiet and

reserved person, I grew concerned about his agitated state.

“rats”, he said again, curling his lips and squinting his eyes.

“Where?” I finally managed to interject. He grasped my shirt

sleeve and drug me to the front room wher he stood in cront

of the habitrail. “Gerbils” I pronounced. “Gurr-balls” he

returned in broken English. “Rats” I smiled.

PLANET Z

King Rufus didn’t like magic, so instead of a Court Magician, he hired a Royal Spellbreaker.

Once a mage of the wizards Guild, the spellbreaker had been expelled over a petty dispute. He made his living revealing the tricks behind the feats of wonder his former colleagues performed.

Love potions were analyzed and revealed to be nothing more than colored alcohol.

Cursed swords just intentionally mis-balanced by the blacksmith.

And the many wondrous beasts of the kingdom nothing more than unusually-groomed poodles.

“You’re just a man in an ice demon suit,” he said mockingly to his would-be assassin.

And died.