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.