Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Eight, 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… was…. um…
It’s Haggis!
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):
Taylor
Charlie the Gnome had been working hard all morning.
First he went to the market and traded what donuts he had for the
ingredients. Then back in his small cottage he had soaked and roasted
and chopped and mixed and stuffed the various items until he had
several plump round sausage. Finally, he put them in a pot of boiling
water. Their foul smell filled the cottage.
Charlie went outside. He looked lovingly at his ravaged donut orchard.
In a couple of hours her could hang the Haggis among the donut trees.
That should keep the Bugbears away, Charlie thought.
Steven
“Welcome to Haggis Anonymous. My name’s Bob.”
“Hi, Bob,” the crowd said.
“It started with bridies and a utilikilt,” Bob said. “Just a little
something at the Renfair. Then I tried blood pudding – and liked it.”
Murmurs of sympathy came from the seated members.
“Before long, I wore tartan and piped bagpipe music into my office.”
Bob paused. “I’m a dentist.”
The others contemplated the combined horror.
“Then I ate haggis. Every meal. Snacks, even,” Bob said. “I went
clean one year ago.”
“How?” the new kid asked.
Bob smiled. “Eating the closest thing to haggis that isn’t. Hotdogs.”
Zachmann
Today we play our favorite game, “You taste it before we tell you what is in it”. Remember when you thought Chocolate meat had chocolate in it? You might like this as much as balut. Smell the aroma. Tastes It. Does it tastes good? Are you sure you want to know what is in it? It is like sausage made of sheep with oatmeal and onions then cooked in the natural casing of a sheep’s intestine. Now will you want haggis as often as you ask for Okonomiyaki, if there are any leftovers we can put it in Okonomiyaki.
Almo
Having no female heirs, James R. McTavish laid down in his will that a closely held family recipe for haggis would go to cousin Mavis.
Mavis looked sheepish. “Haggis?” she asked.
Jim Junior whispered in her ear. Mavis, a dyed-in-the-wool vegetarian made a horrible face.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Mavis took the recipe and opened a chain of Scottish restaurants.
“I never thought she’d have the guts,” said Jim, who invested much of the family fortune.
Two months later, Mavis was on the lam, absconding with the money.
“Certainly pulled the wool over my eyes,” Jim lamented.
Katharina
The handcuffs felt cold against her wrists – almost like a new bracelet.
She figured they must be real ones, even though she wasn’t able to see
anything through the blindfold. There was a sweet, chocolatey smell in
the air – she soon found out why when the sauce dripped onto her chest.
His tongue was soft on her skin, then she felt his finger on her lips.
When she opened her mouth, she felt his weight shift, as if he wanted to
feed her.
The very second the smell reached her nose, she shouted out loud…
“Haggis??? ARE YOU CRAZY!”
Anima
“You are trying my patience Jack, first with “getting back to your cultural roots” and now this “localvore” eating.
“Sorry, luv, but, ain’t they cute?”
“Yes, spring lambs are adorable, but soon they mature into summer sheep, then they’re winter mutton. Where are you going to keep ‘em? In the dog kennel?
Jack glances towards the spare bedroom – “You haven’t used the eliptical in a bit…”
No! Absolutely not. No way am I going to pretend our three story walk up is a croft on the moors just so you can make haggis for Burns Night next January, Jack Shay.
Mick
“Shush, Jamie, ye’ll scare them awa’,” said Auld Tam.
“But uncle, the haggis…” insisted Jamie.
“Hold yer weesht, boy. Dinnae frighten them!”
“Uncle Tam, you wanted to know when the delivery came,” said the boy,
hauling a clear plastic bag full of intestines onto the table. Tam
gave the boy a deep scowl and pointed to the door.
Jamie’s shoulders drooped as he walked off. “Shall I put the oatmeal
and sheeps’ stomachs for the haggis through here too?” he asked.
Tam abandoned his story and buried his head in his hands as the
tartan-clad crowd of tourists fled, green-faced and retching.
JRadimus
Have you ever wondered where those disgusting cultural delicacies came from? Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway:
Every culture hates or fears foreigners, and each developed a way to intimidate them. Drinking games didn’t last long. It became a contest of edible one-up-man’s-ship, a culinary arms race, a game of gastronomic chicken. But you won’t recognize any chicken on that battlefield. The Britons have Blood Pudding. Hispanics have Menudo. Southerners have Chitlins. The Scots entered the war with Haggis. Koreans have Kimchi. The world didn’t know what to do when the Chinese brought animal penises. An immediate armistice was demanded.
TJ
It’s untested! You mustn’t!
Chocolatier Charlie Bucket’s fanciful R&D department was at a loss for fresh ideas. So he dipped into that tired old “golden ticket” well once more, summoning children to the chocolate factory.
The winners were as hopeless as ever. Among them, Scots McTavish grabbed a hunk of red glop on a counter and ate it. In theory, you ate it and tasted whatever you most wanted to.
“Mmm … mother’s haggis,” he began, and then stopped as he became encased in a sac. In reality, everyone tasted haggis. Because they became haggis. The oompah-loompahs rolled him away.
Norval Joe
Robert sat at the table and glared irritably across the food at his parents.
“I hate Haggis,” he said.
His mother looked surprised and asked, “Why do you say that, Robert?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. ” I mean, who cares if Harry, Hermoine, and Ron love him so much. He’s stupid and irrisponsible. I don’t see why Dumbledorf keeps him around.”
“Dear, the character in the Harry Potter books is Hagrid. Haggis is a traditional scottish dish made from sheep guts, onions and oatmeal.”
“Oh. Well then. Compared to that, Hagrid’s not such a bad guy.”
Planet Z
I won an all-expenses paid trip to Scotland.
I saw the castles, the moors… the whole works.
I even ate haggis.
I found it delicious.
After I cleared my third plate, I asked the waiter what kind of animal a haggis is.
“It’s a fierce and vicious animal,” he said. “They use the guts for food and the skins and bones for bagpipes.”
“Hunt?” I asked.
I love to hunt.
So, I’m out on the moors, shotgun in one hand and pair a metal spoons in the other, smacking them against my leg.
SHHHH! What was that?