Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Twenty, 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 Mensa!
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
Steven the Nuclear Man
“Jonathan, you can’t talk about UFOs if you want to get into Mensa.”
Abigail ignored his tight knuckles gripping the steering wheel.
“You’re a smart guy, but they won’t get it.”
“You bet they won’t get it,” he snorted. “Smartest people in the
world and they’re UFO deniers.” He swerved into the library parking
lot. “We’re finally here.”
“Look,” Abigail said, “I’ll take you to a nice restaurant for our next date.”
As the humans walked inside, Bleargh looked up from the monitor to
Zooptif. “A brain buffet!” it said, “What a romantic date!”
The saucer landed on the roof.
Zackmann
That friend of yours, David, seems stupid and crazy. He told me that He took a class with Professor Turtledove where he learned about how the South won the US Civil War. Actually that was a joke. David is a member of Mensa but some times he gets a little weird if exposed to bad media. I think he saw the live action movie of The Last Air Bender. He should be Okay in a couple of days. He was off for about two weeks when I loaned him my copy of Moon People. Keep him away from daytime television.
Guy David
Being different was always a curse. People used to stare at me blankly when I talked and it would take me a while to register they didn’t understand a word of what I said. Through the years I learned to talk down a few levels, but it made me feel lonely, alien. That’s why my first Mensa meeting was such a life changing experience. Suddenly I was among people just like me, and I didn’t have to talk down anymore. I could talk at my own level and it was liberating. I’m not feeling cursed anymore. I almost feel blessed.
Cristina
Where do Goblins come from? They love gold is all we know.
What do they eat? Gold, I dare say, but that doesn’t seem very healthy.
Deep in the tunnels they dig, I question how dark they can be
In their burrows with such little sun!
Short and stocky these creatures are.
A mystery all the way up to their bushy eyebrows.
The myths we tell, they forge weapons for fun,
Weapons for fun! Such dangerous beings they are!
But all I know is that they love gold and their holds
That as the truth as far as I know.
Almo
The general entered the room stiffly, placed the folder on the table, addressed the small group. “We just don’t know how to stop this thing that’s coming,” he said. “We need your help, desperately.”
An eager hand shot up. “We could do a musical!” the man said. “That would relax people.” Another disagreed. “No, an operetta. That’s what we need.”
The general’s brow furrowed. “These are the dumbest suggestions I’ve heard. I thought this group was brilliant.”
“Oh,” said one of the women, suddenly understanding. “Mensa meets down the hall. This is the glee club.”
TJ
Hi! Welcome to the Sheboygan Falls Dew Drop Inn here in Sheboygan Falls,
Wisconsin! Sheboygan’s awfully fun to say, isn’t it? I’m Emma Jean
Wilkinson I’ll be your waitress this fine afternoon. Are you folks
here for the convention? There’s a Mensa convention, IQ’s in the top
2 percent smartest people in America. You seemed to have a spark of life
behind your eyes so I wondered if you were in town for that? Because
they’ve moved that. Yeah, see, they sent an advance team who … met
us. Moved the convention down to the Twin Cities. Try the pie!
Pods And Ends
The document was slowly falling to the ground. It landed noiselessly on the dirty tiled floor. Both of them bent down at the same time and their eyes locked. It was one of these moments where you look someone in the eye just an instant too long.
“Mary, back to work!” came the voice from behind the buffet in the mensa. The woman jumped up and joined her colleague. At the door, she looked back at the man. He looked around him in disgust. Raising an eyebrow at her, he shook his head sadly before he turned around and left.
Norval Joe
The local chapter of mensa was disappointed by the lack of membership.
After they determined there just weren’t enough really smart people in their community they had a heated debate about what would be the best way to raise their numbers.
Eventually they decided to use the same method used to test the IQ’s of hundreds of historical geniuses. They nearly doubled their ranks by adding members posthumously.
Their clever scheme came crashing down when National noticed. Some wise guy thought he would be funny and added names to the roster like; George Foreman, Forest Gump, and Popeye the Sailor-man.
Justin
Wumbi, of the Pokilulu tribe of cannibals was talking with Rimboo the elder about the proper way to cook a woman.
“Young Wumbi, you must remembeh, da more you know da woman, da more effort you must put into her pweparation. Eating someone is a vereh poisernall ting!”
“Do the spices and vegetables matter?”
“Naw, nat so moich. It’s more about what you do to da meat.”
“Who was the first woman you cooked?”
“Oh, soim missionary. Oui just caught her in a twap in da jungle. ”
“How did you prepare the meat, mince it?”
“Mensa, I hardly knew her!”
Planet Z
Richard’s car broke down in the middle of nowhere.
The GPS was wired into the car, the display as dead as the engine.
So was the integrated phone.
Damn. Card-carrying genius, doing something stupid.
But not as stupid as the lumbering hulk that came up to his car, a walking cliche: overalls, shotgun and straw hat.
“You got yerself car troubles?” drawled the hillbilly.
“Yeah,” said Richard. “You have a garage somewhere?”
The hillbilly frowned. “What, you think we ain’t got cars or somethin’?”
He raised the shotgun.
Richard sighed. He was a card-carrying NRA member.
(Without his gun. Stupid.)