Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.
This is the 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:
The Human Brain
By Christopher Munroe
This sentence came out of my brain.
So did this one.
That’s weird, right? I mean, it’s just a lump of meat, maybe three pounds or so, yet everything we are and everything we’ll ever be is contained there. Just bobbing around, inside our skulls, behind our faces, a little scrunched-up looking thing from which we build an identity, from which we pull words, sentences, language, stories, ideas…
I mean, not necessarily good ideas.
This one, for example, doesn’t make a lot of sense, but ideas.
We don’t appreciate our brains enough, I think.
They do so much for us…
by Jeffrey Fischer
Four fifty-seven p.m.: time to leave the office. Planning the evening commute required split-second timing. Four minutes to the garage, another two to exit the garage, 12 minutes on the surface streets, though this depended a bit on catching the lights just right, and onto the expressway by 5:15. Traffic was building; in another few minutes the road would be impassable. Leaving those three minutes before the hour made all the difference.
Five-fifteen: into the traffic flow, his job was now out of his mind. He punched several buttons and the opening sounds of Quadrophenia filled the car.
Moving in Stereo
by Jeffrey Fischer
I looked down at my body on the operating table. I had read about out-of-body experiences, but I never expected one myself. I watched the respirator move up and down, breathing for me as my body remained unconscious.
I was jolted back to reality by a high-pitched squeal. The monitors flashed an alert and medical personnel scurried to find and resolve the problem, to no avail. Well, that was it for me, I supposed. I was dead. Nothing more to see in this grim room, so I tried to leave. Uh-oh. With growing dismay, it began to sink in that I might be stuck in here for a long time.
I have psoriasis. Consequently the internal ear is dry and itchy. Fish oil, Vaseline, goose grease, schmaltz, and other moisturizers don’t work. I am digging into my earholes frequently with old Popsicle sticks, paperclips, and twigs. Last Saturday, I was doing some excavation work on my earholes and I inadvertently sneezed and farted concurrently. Consequently, the Popsicle stick was rammed into my ear and I heard a loud pop and my right side went limp. I yanked the stick out, and some orangey, pink jelly covered the end of the stick. It was something out of my brain, I’m sure.
It’s fun to open up your document, release your inhibitions, and let the words flow. The stories that come out of my brain each week often surprise and shock me. If I didn’t know me better, I’d say I was nuts. I am a thin, confused, M to F transgender individual these days, but I am holding on to my netherrod, hoping to find a high bidder when I’m ready for my lower surgery. They tell me I will have a lot left over when they do the surgery, so I’m putting an ad on Craig’s list for a buyer.
He was yelling and pointing in front of Safeway. No one was there. He was out of his mind, or his brain, I suppose. He mumbled something about acid, and I offered help, so I approached him, walking backwards towards him, and sticking two pencils up my nose as I did. When I reached him, I spun around quickly and started singing “I am the Walrus, Goo goo g’ joob Goo Goo Goo g’ joob.” His eyes popped out of his head and he ran screaming into the bushes behind the store. I did my good deed for the day.
Have you ever had one of those nights when you just can’t sleep?
You lie there, thoughts constantly buzzing around your head, whilst you become ever more frustrated with your complete inability to get some sleep.
The more you try to empty your mind, the worse it is. You constantly find yourself recapping the day’s events… They fill your mind – a neverending distraction from the one thing you crave more than anything else…
The blessed relief of sleep!
Then, finally reaching your wit’s end, you sit up, sheets in complete disarray and desperately cry…
“Get out of my brain!”
After the explosion, it was touch and go whether I’d live, but – thanks to a genius surgeon, and the wonders of modern medicine – I survived.
Of course, having half a pound of assorted shrapnel and metal shards pulled out of my brain, even by a genius surgeon, was always going to have some unforeseen consequences.
Nothing significant, just occasional mild insanity.
Personally, I think it’s been the making of me, and looking on the bright side, when the worst happens you can rest assured that it’s not going to bother me at all…
It might bother you!
The roads were littered with metal scraps. The food was scarce. No one dared say a word. The real problem was none of this; it was the compulsory pea-sized contraption. Then, they went back home and all the brains on Earth were placed in suspended mode, our bio energy being sucked away, long-distance. When they returned for a check-up, I was part of the test sample. I hid, and jabbed my eye to get them out of my brain. I lost an eye but they never saw me again. More have done it too. We’ll get Earth back, one day.
Murray had a habit of saying the most unappropriated thing at the precisely the most optimum moment. “It just came out of his brain, “his sister Ann would say “It was like the tin-foil was just strengthening the signals from Planet Murray. No one wanted to sit next to Murray at a family funeral. Visits to sick relatives often ending with 911 calls. During his wedding to Laura there was brisk wagering on how long it would take him to fuck it up. To everyone’s surprise and loss Murray just stayed in his brain with the help of his heart
The auditorium was too dark to determine the nature of the body between the rows of seats. Male, female, young, old, dead or alive.
Mickey climbed down from the seats and knelt by the unmoving body.
“Oooh, oooh? Are you okay?” he asked, pulling lightly on a strand of hair.
She groaned and shook her head, pulled herself to her knees, and onto one of the seats.
“I’m Mickey. Who are you and what happened?”
“I’m, um, shoot. I know it, but it slipped out of my brain.” She rubbed her head and pulled her hand away, covered with blood.
Out Of My Brain
After a long rehabilitation, I visited the scientific team to see the tumour the surgeon had cut out of my brain.
I’d volunteered for the experiment. The neuroma had to come out anyway, so I’d donated the tissue to the project. It had been grown to fill a tank dominating the room, surrounded by tubes and machines.
“Penrose was right about quantum neural computation,” said the project leader. “This thing thinks faster than anything before. We’ve just completed the speech and hearing interfaces.”
“You can talk to it? What does it say?”
“MO-O-O-O-RRE BRAIINNZZZ!!” replied the brain in the vat.
Apple, Microsoft, Google, and Amazon formed a partnership for the ultimate online product.
mybrain dot com was a computer-human interface. It would allow instant learning, store memory backups, and so much more.
And they gave it away for free.
Government regulators went completely ape-shit over it.
Until the four companies declared war on anyone that opposed their efforts.
Millions of bureaucrats, protesters, and religious officials discovered their email and data had vanished.
The hypocrites among the opposition who used free mybrain units all died in their sleep.
Massive cerebral hemorrhages.
Everyone else instantly learned not to oppose the new masters.