Weekly Challenge #340 – Chain

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 Forty, 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 Chain.

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

• Thomas
• Jeffrey
• Michael
• Lizzie
• Munsi
• Serendipidy Haven
• Botgirl
• Singh
• Zackmann
• Tura
• Tom
• Bonchance and Sevi
• Norval Joe
• Jeffrey Hite
• Cliff – Uncle Monster
• Steven the Nuclear Man
• Danny
• RedGoddess
• Planet Z

The next weekly challenge is a PICK TWO.

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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THOMAS

Ted bought chainmail from eBay to wear while he cut wood. Thinking it would protect him from the sharp teeth of the chain of his 22 inch Stihl, he over-confidently started his woodcutting chore after a very restless night of sleep, and a couple of shots of brown stuff at breakfast to stop his hands from shaking. You can easily guess the rest of the story. The chainmail worked fine, when he slipped while moving a heavy branch. The saw’s teeth bounced when they struck the metal chain, directing the saw upwards to execute an impromptu rhinoplasty on Ted’s nose.

#

The chain of events began when the Fosselbachs’ pestered their pet cockatoo, insisting that it learn how to relieve itself when held over a waste bin. Following a week of relentless coaxing and wheedling, the cockatoo lifted off and flapped around the kitchen, knocking a bottle of oil onto the stovetop. The oil erupted into flames, catching the cupboards on fire, and spreading to Mrs. Fosselbach’s collection of Indian baskets displayed on the kitchen walls. The cockatoo sacrificed a few of his tail feathers, but the Fosselbach’s lost half of their new doublewide and any hope of potty-training their bird.

#

The Weenie Chain, celebrated the hotdog, invented by a German butcher in the 1600’s, by opening another franchise operation at the West end of town. They hoped to get a lot of customers that shopped at Wally World, nearby. Weenie’s specialized in over 100 kinds of tube steaks, including steamed, charcoal broiled, stuffed, grilled, griddled, deep-fried, and bacon wrapped. They imported the “red snappers” from Maine, famous for their neon colored casings, and “hots” from New York – made from pork, veal and maple sawdust. Weenie’s sponsored eating contests at the local retirement home and were responsible for several, fatal accidents.

#

When Aretha sings Chain of Fools, I am reminded of the governing board that has attempted to command our local technology club. The elected gang for the past year have driven a majority of the regular members away by their choice of speakers and the lack of attention to detail at meetings. The sound system is never set up properly, the LCD projector is always out of focus, and the PowerPoint slides are a visual dirge. When asked if I would run again for office, I said that I would rather have my spleen eaten by rats, as I slept.

JEFFREY

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors
by Jeffrey Fischer

The chain-link fence separated our playground from the upscale neighborhood. The younger kids would sit on the swings and soar above the fence before falling back to our side. Older kids would kick a ball on the grass, or play basketball on the paved court, being careful the ball didn’t sail over the fence, as it was a long walk to get the ball back.

Once we showed up to find a gap in the fence where someone had cut the chain links. The hole was repaired that day. Afterward, we noticed a security guard patrolling “their” side.

We liked to pretend that the fence existed to keep them out of our playground.

MICHAEL

Daisychain,

By Michael Duturbure

“Aren’t the flowers pretty today?”

“Billy, what am I to you?”

“Urgh…Why do you always have to spoil the mood?! Can’t we just enjoy this…”

“Come on…tell me”

“Well….I’m your best friend, I’m your lover, I’m your ….anything”

“Hahaha That’s soooo adorable….? Come… you have to meet my parents”

“Uh uh….Not til you tell you tell them about me… your dad’s kinda scary, what do you think he will say”

“I don’t care anymore…. he doesn’t scare me…………ummm, what are you doing there, is that daisy chain?”

“No,I know it’s not the real thing …..buuut…..… Tom…..will you take this to marry me…”

“Get up you goof before I knock ya!”

“Is that a no?”

“You’re sooooo tacky…hahaha yes..of course I will”

LIZZIE

Numbers roared in his head, louder and louder. He looked at the phone and repeated them incessantly. 100 links of distance, the carbon atom, and the hotels, theaters, restaurants, banks, his mind was filled with an excess of information that no one comprehended. “Yes? Yes. Ok, I’ll tell him,” but he wouldn’t. He hung up trying to stifle the noise. What was once comforting was now drowning him. This obsessively loud chain of numbers paralyzed him in a motionless repetition of helplessness. Make me a prisoner no more, he wished, whispering at the mountains above, hoping to beat his demons.

MUNSI

Chains

By Christopher Munroe

If you think about it, in a way we’re all in chains.

Chained by self-imposed obligations to one another, to notions of family and friendship. Chained to jobs we only took to pay student loans we thought we’d need to get jobs better than the ones we were eventually forced to take. Chained by outdated notions of morality.

Yes, we fancy ourselves free, but in a way we’re all in chains.

But in another, more literal way, only you are in chains, here in my soundproof basement.

Now, make yourself comfortable while I head upstairs to fetch my straight razor…

SERENDIPITY

Congratulations!

This letter will bring you unlimited good fortune – but only if you make twenty-five copies and send them on to your friends within the next day!

DO NOT BREAK THE CHAIN!

Breaking the chain will bring you terrible misfortune!

If you do break the chain, we will hunt you down, come to your home with baseball bats and very sharp knives and make sure that you never walk again!

Incidentally, how is married life? We’re all very much looking forward to seeing you both at Christmas… please give us a call soon.

All our love,

Mum and dad.

BOTGIRL

“Chained” by Botgirl Questi

I used to believe that my mind was free from gravity . . .

that the pull of Mother Earth had no dominion

in the realm of awareness, thought and identity.

For a time, I seemed to have escaped both the dictates of biology,

and the laws and constraints of the atomic world.

I raced faster than light beyond the known universe,

danced in the silent vacuum,

and stared into the face of a hundred suns.

But all the while there trailed behind me

A chain of perfect weave.

Unseen or mayhaps merely denied,

Her life-giving umbilical was all that sustained me.

SINGH

Chain Gang Ant

I am just one of the gang, a thousand moveable mandibles rubbing thorax to red thorax with purpose ­–– to crop, to crimp, to chew and glue two sides of a leaf-cathedral together. The higher-ups send down the orders, and then we’re off –– marching and singing to engineer another leaf-horn cornucopia trumpeting up the jungle jazz. See my jaws of silk in a dewdrop, tick my attendance in the scheme of things. I am a pest-controller of the citrus orchard, a waterproofer of nursery nests,
the tiniest sweat worker in the emerald forest. I’m a little link in the chain of command.

ZACKMANN

What a hangover and I only had one glass of zinfandel. At least it is dark in here. I feel a daisy chain around my neck or rather with my neck since my hands and feet are chained to a wheelchair. Oh God No, this is a movie theater. I should have never told her she can’t make me and there is nothing she can do to get me to see a Twilight movie. I should have know she would see it as a challenge. Never say “you can’t” to a woman if you don’t want them to do something.

TURA

I heard this story from the driver of a taxicab, who said that he had had that David Attenborough in his car last week, who told him of a book in which Marco Polo recounted a story he had from a Chinese nobleman, whose grandfather told him he had once known a sailor who had journeyed to the Western edge of the world, to the Land of Anger, or as they call it, Ire-Land, where he had seen the grave of St. Elvis who, the monks told him, would return at the world’s greatest need.

So it must be true.

TOM

I would like to say I am having a string of senior moments, but the truth is I’m having intermittent consciousness. I’m capable of forgetting anything. To this end I own a wallet, and the only reason I still do is it is chained to my pants. I’ve always thought if one loss their pants, that a wallet would be a serious secondary concern. After walking away from my ATM card for the zillionth time I’ve chained it to the wallet. The car keys chained, flashlight and cell phone. The wallet weights 16 pounds. Gail have you seen the Subaru?

Santa Cruz is not so much a place as a state of mind, sort of the land time forgot. In the 70’s the soundtrack to that state was Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors. It was literally playing everywhere all the time. Perhaps it was because the band had been infused by two Atherton kids. I think it was more a talisman against neo-reggae that seeped into the seaside town. Don’t get me wrong, I played the grooves flat on Jimmy Cliff’s Harder They Come, but Stevie Nick’s post-adolescent angst was the heart of a darkening America that would never break the chains.

BONCHANCE

Love those tigers!

The “waiting lounge” was encased in cool steel. Pablo waited to see Chairman Meow.
“Pablo?” A familiar voice echoed from the corner of the cell.
“Anthony?” Pablo rushed to his old friend. He was chained to the wall.

“ Geez what the hell!?!

The tiger explained that shortly after Pablo left the circus, he left too.
He quickly realized the world loathed the tigers.

Pablo insisted that wasn’t true, although the mad Siberian kitty chairman was holding them captive.
Pablo insisted that EVERONE loves the tigers.
They began to plot their escape from the evil clutches of the psychotic Chairman.

CLIFF

An Unlikely Chain of Events

Fred spread his arms and let his wife remove the chains and moldy jacket.
“Did all go well, darling?”
“Of course. The old man was clay in my hands. His fear, my power of suggestion, and the elixir that I put in his soup will do the trick. His hallucinations will drive him out of his mind over the course of the night and by tomorrow, we’ll have the best Christmas present ever. My uncle’s fortune will be mine.”
“What if he does something crazy?”
“What could he do? Give away his money? No, no. Not Uncle Ebenezer. Not Scrooge.”

NORVAL JOE

The goblins rushing toward the circle of people around the way-stone stumbled to a stop as the circled company faded from sight. For a moment the scene before him remained, though his friends had already disappeared. Owen felt his guts wrenched from him, spun around above his head like a lasso and then shoved back down his throat.
When Owen’s vision returned, he and the others lay on their backs in snow, high mountains rising above them. Shareeka alone remained on her feet, a stone in a silver bezel hanging on a chain around her neck shone with azure brilliance.

JEFF HITE

I watched Tron the other day, the original not the new one. Though I really enjoyed the new one almost as much as I like the original. If nothing else there was some really great Music in that new movie. But I’m getting off track here. When you think about that movie you think about powerful computers taking over the world, and everyone connected via “dumb” terminals. Ten years ago I saw the reintroduction of dumb terminals, but they were called thin clients. Now the chain’s complete, Google the biggest computer in the world has the chomebook, a dumb terminal.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

He pulls against the thread, biceps bulging with strain.

I tisk and shake my head. “Not so easy, darling”. I pull out more thread. I wrap it slowly across his torso.

He strains again. My threads are unmoved.

“You should watch more nature programs,” I chide. My first arms caress his cheeks. My second arms spin the thread while my third arms spin him in place.

“Stronger than steel chains,” I whisper. “Useless to resist”.

He tries anyway, and my pulse quickens. My fangs extend and I plunge them into his chest.

I drain him before my red hourglass empties.

DANNY

Just when I had a chance to ask what’s in a life, I met the woman of my dreams. This was the grand love story that fell short of the fairytale ending, unless fairytales end in chains. After years went passing by, I was finally jolted awake from a five year coma. Suddenly aware my friends had moved on, the opportunities I once had for new relationships were now long gone. I refuse to go back into the chains of another 5 year coma, I’d rather bask in the freedom of loneliness. That’s a freedom nobody will ever take from me.

REDGODDESS

Since the passing of Mr. Chip, Lola has been in a manic mood. She has avoided her lover in fear of being too vulnerable. She tries to keep herself busy with work but is still numb with sadness. No one has come to claim Mr. Chip’s belongings. She’s beginning to wonder who will make the funeral arrangements. There are certain chain of events that turns life on its ugly head. Lola wonders if this job is the pinnacle of her existence. Would anyone care if wasn’t at the hotel? The next day, Lola calls in sick for the first time.

PLANET Z

Eddie loves to write chain letters. The crazier, the better.

Instead of saying that you need to forward e-mails to 10 friends to avoid being hit by a bus, he’d scare people with solar flares or runaway steamrollers.

Then, one day, there was a solar flare and runaway steamroller ran him over, and he spent the next two months in the hospital.

He wasn’t able to type his chain letters with his arms broken.

So, he used speech to text software instead.

The chain letters continued until annoyed readers broke his jaw. And another solar flare roasted him to ashes.