Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
We’ve got stories by:
- Norval Joe
- Tura Brezoianu
- Planet Z
By Christopher Munroe
We were so excited when the project began.
I mean, none of us were carpenters, we’d never built a veranda before, but we were reasonably intelligent individuals, and youtube does exist after all, how hard could it be?
Unbelievably hard, as I’m sure will come as no surprise to the handier among you.
The resultant porch looked terrible but, more tragically, friendships ended over the fights attempting to build it caused among us. We went our separate ways, dispirited by failure, and never spoke again.
A tragic end to a tragic tale…
…especially as we’d started with such great deck-spectations.
by Jeffrey Fischer
Sam and Lisa sat on adjoining deck chairs, staring at the ocean. They had arrived at the beach house earlier in the day and planned to do little the rest of the weekend but sit in those chairs and relax.
“This is the life,” said Sam, hoisting a beer bottle in Lisa’s direction. A seagull passed overhead, spattering Sam.
“Except for the seagull poop,” observed Lisa.
“Right.” A gust of wind sprayed sand in Lisa’s face.
“And the sand.”
“Amen.” The wind brought with it clouds, which opened on the couple, drenching them.
Sam and Lisa sat on naugahyde chairs inside the beach house as rain pelted the exterior. “This is the life.”
A Matter of Balance
by Jeffrey Fischer
The bar rocked to and fro as the waves battered the ship. Outside, the slippery deck and gale-force winds made walking dangerous. I figured I could hole up in the bar until the worst of the storm passed. Only one problem: the swaying of the ship caused the occupants of the bar to sway as well. I could steady myself by gripping the edge of the bar with both hands, but that left me one hand short for hoisting my glass.
Then the solution hit me: drink *more*. If I got just drunk enough, I would sway in the opposite direction to offset the ship. Problem solved!
“Hit me,” I told the bartender. I was no longer just a casual drinker: I was a man on a voyage of scientific exploration.
We had to swab the deck, chip paint, polish the brass, clean windows inside and out, type letters, carry messages, answer the phone, keep the calendar, erase the boards, punch the holes in the papers, file the memos, check the spelling, lock the doors, unlock the doors, stand guard, wake the guards, pick up the trash, blow up the balloons, neuter the cats, change the tires, darn the socks, air the laundry, start the rumors, shine the boots, blow the noses, change the diapers, walk the dogs, clean the drains, feed the elders, change the oil, and count the meds.
First time I set foot on the holodeck, I was shocked. Someone hadn’t cleaned up after the last user. There was food, empty bottles, used condoms, and the stench of cat’s ass and hamster food. The family had room and equipment keys, but they were very careless about tidying up after their sessions. We were able to save a shitload of money by not buying gas, going on vacations, or going to parties. Grandpa used the holodeck in his wheelchair, and I used to spend all weekend in there, with some poppers, a bottle of nitrous, and a call girl.
Ogres – Not the brightest of the bunch
The ogre grinned wickedly at Laggins who, quaking in his boots, whimpered, “I’m just a poor traveller… What are you going to do with me?”
“First”, replied the ogre, “I’m going to deck you. Then I’m going to steal your gold for my secret hoard!”
“You have a secret hoard of gold?”
“Down the path, third oak on the right… Now, where was I?”
“I was going to deck you and steal your gold”, replied Laggins.
“Get on with it then!”
Laggins whacked the ogre as hard as he could with his stake, knocking him clean out.
“All forms of alien life, clear the deck.”
When asked about the sign, Ray pointed. “You can’t see them? The bastards! They are sitting right there, mocking me.”
That was odd. No one had ever seen any alien around.
Everyone laughed. Ray was just the local oddball.
He thought he was a prepared oddball though. He had plenty of food and water in that boat, just in case.
When the electricity system collapsed mysteriously, Ray said “See! That’s why I didn’t want them to get comfy in my boat.”
But they did and they ate all of Ray’s supplies too.
This job sucks.
Early hours of the morning – I’m bored, tired and half frozen to death.
‘A life on the ocean wave: See the world and live the dream!’ – That’s what they promised – more a nightmare, in my own opinion.
Plus I keep getting saddled with the crappiest jobs, like tonight, stuck out on deck peering into the darkness, while everyone else is partying down below.
I’d had enough, and sneaked below deck to try and warm up.
Which is why we hit the iceberg.
Such a shame about the ship and all those people… it wasn’t unsinkable, after all.
When you lived as long as I, you will have many regrets. Likely your biggest regrets are those you could have avoided with free professional advice. If only I’d asked the paint counter what paint was good for wooden decks they would have told me to use seal or stain for wooden decks and I never would have painted it. After failing to remove old paint with multiple power tools and chemicals, I am trying deck restoration paint but from the YouTube reviews heavy duty paint is still paint and still likely to bubble and chip in two years too.
Benny Decked Lucy
He knew it wasn’t the proper thing to do. His parents had told him it wasn’t right to knock the daylights out of his little sister, even if she provoked it. Grandma had a bit different take on the matter. “Make her throw the first punch.” So Benny found the one thing that would unhinged his sister and delivered it during dinner. Sure enough what Lucy heard wasn’t what his parents heard. What his parents saw was Lucy fly over the table and grabbed Benny by the throat. When Benny decked Lucy his parents had to implement new rules.
Title: Saturday Night
Every Saturday night around 6:30 I meet with eight of my nearest and dearest. We gather at a different location. Money and snacks are involved. We play a variety of games, and no one knows where some originated. One lady has dreamed a couple up, and I mean literally. Eights or if’n, gone fishing, leaping lena, the wings just to name a few. Some of them are wild and some are not, but all are either high or low and sometimes both. The thing we all agree on is, if things aren’t going your way get two new decks. Deal suckers.
Rick Racker pulled on his own brown hood adjusting the eye holes to see clearly and sat at the table. He said, “Have a seat.”
Dergle sat in the remaining empty chair.
“Shouldn’t your hats be stylized armadillos?” he asked.
“Why?” Rick asked.
“Well, because, you know, they’re…” Dergle stammered.
“Julio. Cut the deck,” Rick said to one of the hooded men.
Julio produced a deck of cards, split it into two equal piles and set them in the middle of the table.
Rick took a card and turned it over.
“The Joker?” Dergle asked.
“Yeah.” Rick smiled. “The Joker.”
After designing cards for standard decks, Tarot, and Magic: The Gathering, I branched out into new areas of the ludocartological art. My creations include a deck for the Chinese Five Elements of Nature and Twenty-Nine Ranks of the Court, and a modern one crossing the Periodic Table with Gell-Mann’s Eightfold Way.
My Unity deck has just a single card, showing the eye of God. At solitaire you always win.
The Zen deck has no cards. The design on the back is a brush-drawn circle, the display case a solid block of wood. The sage plays without playing, and wins all.
Officers used to shout “All hands on deck” to gather the crew so they could deal with a big emergency.
It also helped them weed out the jokers on the crew, who’d rush to the top deck and put their hands on the wooden slats.
A boot in the ass would knock them face down into the deck, and they’d learn not to make light during an emergency.
These days, you hear that expression everywhere. Network engineering, grocery store checkout lanes…
Less boots in the ass, though.
Unless it’s for a run on dominatrixes at the local brother, of course.