Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Five, 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…
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
Steven the Nuclear Man
They were halfway through the fourth verse of “Kum-by-yah” when the
campfire winked out.
There was no smoke, no coals. Bobby flicked his flashlight on and
moved closer. His hand touched the charred wood.
“It’s cold,” he said, and then his light flicked out. A second later
the other camper’s flashlights went out.
The circle of darkness spread, extinguishing fires and flashlights.
Then cars stopped on the freeway. Jet engines failed. Power plants
stopped running. Combustion of all kinds stopped on planet Earth.
Zeus looked down at Prometheus. “Thank you for returning what you stole.”
The gods ignored humanity’s screams.
They called him the Human Torch. He was like something out of comic books. Flames crawled all over his flesh, and little yellow and red tongues licked at his hair, but never ignited so much as a single strand.
They remember how he had to sleep on a ceramic bed, and left charred footprints in his wake.
They remember how he kept the local nursing home residents alive when the Blizzard of 2042 knocked out power for three weeks.
But then the CIA discovered he was an arsonist, and guilty of murder. And quietly, surreptitiously, the Human Torch got snuffed.
LIARS! They said you would be good for me, you would make me happy and content. At first you made me smile and forget the empty feeling I had. People look at us and desire you, that made me want you even more. As time went by, I knew things had changed between us. Sure, we had our moments, but it would not last, it never lasts. It’s always the same for us, happiness with a price. I knew you were just a cheap thrill but the fire you give my heart is not worth it my dear pepperoni pizza.
Daniel’s parents were traditional and did not think to teach him to cook. One of Daniel’s friend told him how he could make chicken soup when he was at work thinking he had a crock pot. Daniel’s parents where dropping of some furniture for him and saw fire through his window. Daniel’s dad opened the door saw the fire on the stove and turned off the stove then smothered the fire with salt from a Kirkland bag. Daniel was glad he gave his father a key. Daniel wondered if he could wash the extra salt out off chicken with soap.
You log on to the home page of your newspaper and there’s a Playboy centerfold, complete with copyright logo. Classified ads have been rerouted to the personals in a leather fetish chat site. Display ads all have the same words and logos but now they’re paired with new graphics, mostly lurid closeups of naughty bits from chatroulette.com, and all the stories are copyrighted material from Walt Disney. You find all incoming calls have been routed to the local police department, while all outgoing calls route to a $50-a-minute offshore switchboard. Note to news operations: Do not fire your IT guy.
“My brother said you have to be able to start a fire with one match,” he said and showed the small red and white tipped sticks to his friend.
They gathered arm loads of dry grass in the empty lot between their houses.
He scratched the match stick across a rock and pushed it under the pyre.
The fire caught instantly and spread out in seconds.
They fled to the safety of his back yard and watched the fire trucks arrive in time to save the neighboring fences.
“It only took one match,” he smiled and said to his friend.
Gladior crept up the crags and peered over a jagged outcropping. Spying the giant named Maliphous, he took an arrow, knocking it. He watched as the giant ate glop from a huge bowl. Whispering the magic word, the arrowhead burst with blue flame. Gladior waited until Maliphous turned away then he stood, loosing the arrow. The bowl dropped and Maliphous clutched his stomach. The brown glop spilled down the mountianside. Doubling over, a gargantuan burst of flatulence emitted from his hindquarters, blasted the arrow off course and ignited. Dancing and swatting at his behind he screamed “Fire in the hole!”
‘m driving in my car, I turn on the radio…
I’m pulling you close, you just say no…
You say you don’t like it, but babe, you’re a liar,,
Coz when we kiss –
“Don’t quit your day job just yet….Hey – you wanna know what burns my butt?”
“This another bad pun, Hector?”
“You’re not interested? I thought the counselor said we needed to work on communication.
Go on, you know you wanna ask…”
“Alright already, what burns your butt?”
“A fire about that high”
Ok, Hector, do YOU know what chaps my lips…”
When I first learned about French Cuisine, I didn’t like it. I heard things like sauté, croissant, soufflé, quiche, and coq au vain. It all seemed a bit weak and frou-frou to me. Food was described with words like ‘flaky’ and ‘buttery’, ‘light’ and ‘delicate’. Where were words like ‘robust’, and ‘hearty’? When I eat, I want food that’s substantial, not “ethereal”. Then, I learned about crème brulee. I was skeptical, at first. It didn’t sound any tougher than the pastries. But then, I learned that it’s made with a blow torch! Anything cooked with fire is fine by me.
Alchemists believed that there were four basic fundamental elements: Fire, Water, Earth, and Air.
Everything in existence was made of some combination of those four basic elements.
Then came Wally. Wally the Alchemist.
He went from town to town, trying to sell bottles with a concoction he claimed was a fifth fundamental element.
Even though it was just mud he mixed up down by the riverbank, people bought it by the wagonload.
At first, they tried to drink it. Then, they smeared it on their bodies.
Finally, they pelted Wally with the bottles.
“The fifth element is pain,” Wally groaned.