Weekly Challenge #626 – Camping

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:

Myst watches Possum


I’ve never been a camper. Sorry. Once at a party in Frisco, I dressed up as a chubby daughter of Lesbos for a high camp fest that my art school threw.

High camp was in at the time. My aesthetic was a form and demonstration of inverted attributes of beauty, value and taste. “Camping it up” was the strategy for the whole weekend. My friends still talk about it.

Today, many years later, my taste in camp is confined to reading The National Enquirer, watching Cuban pop singers, and watching lustless porn with the sound turned off.

Lifetime NRA Member.


Camping usually is family affair with my family. We pack two, unmuffled, diesel generators, the dogs and the miniature pigs, and the large screen TV and stereo gear. We bought six air mattresses and a motorized hammock that can hold the whole family.

Target practice, archery, lawn darts, naked volleyball, and a portable Sanikan take up the rest of the room in the utility trailer. The Sanikan is pumped out by the local plumbing shop twice a week. We have plenty of hot water due to the propane heaters and storage tanks.

We relish the flash pictures of Mother Nature.



I hate camping!

Ever since trips to ‘The Great Outdoors’ as a youngster, I’ve loathed anything to do with tents, sleeping bags and portaloos… How anyone can enjoy that sort of thing beats me!

It’s cramped, cold, everything smells musty, and the slightest hint of rain means that everything will remain damp and uncomfortable for the duration.

Then there’s the bugs and all the other unpleasantness that others pretend to enjoy.

Not me though. I’ll stay in a hotel with a decent bar, a comfortable bed, room service and air conditioning.

Or, better still, why bother? I’ll stay at home!


“It’s cold and I don’t even like camping.” And Annie slammed the door behind her.
Why did Annie have the final word about everything, thought Paula.
A pair of curious eyes looked inside the house.
Why couldn’t they go camping in the winter? They just needed a few extra sweaters. And besides, Paula really wanted to see that stag again.
When she turned around, he was there. She didn’t dare to move. They looked at each other. And that’s how the word camping took on a completely different meaning, as the stag came back for a visit every day.


A friend introduced me to living under canvas many years ago. He would constantly be extolling the virtues of getting close to nature, becoming one with the environment and living in harmony with the forest.

That’s not the reason I camp out in the wilds and avoid cities and civilisation; my reasons have nothing to do with living as nature intended.

It’s a practicality, as far as I’m concerned – the further from habitation I keep, the less likely the cops will catch up with me.

Together with the added bonus that it’s easy to dispose of bodies out here!


Nature Boy, Not

I’m not an avid camper. I’m an urbanite. When we travel we expect a mint on the pillow, not a tree root to the spine. “Camping allow you a closer connection to nature.” So does a weekend with Ebola. The only way to get me into the wood, to “CAMP” there had better be a cabin, a bank of electoral plugs, and oh yes, WIFI. But Tom the purpose of camping is to remove yourself from the tyranny of the modern world. Oh and walking 10 miles hauling a 90 pound pack, to dine on freeze dry food is freedom. Nup


No More Camping Trips!


Jon DeCles

It was to be an idyllic Saturday. My buddy was coming over and we could watch old movies and opera on the big screen TV. My son, Master of the Media, was to be away with my wife on a camping trip. He normally dominates the usage of the TV, but he assured us the electronics would be free for our use. If need be, my nephew could advise us on how it worked.

We could not turn it on. My nephew could turn it on, but not make it go. His son got us a picture, but nothing more.


You need less than you think to camp in the wilderness. Who needs a tent? Make your shelter from tree branches. No need to carry food, you can live off the land. As for clothes, a properly trained human body needs only its natural strength. To wander naked with nothing through the empty places is real living, not slowly dying in cities. One taste and you’ll never go back.

That’s what I tell them for $10,000 a day at corporate team-building retreats. And now I have fans who actually do it! I’m almost tempted to try it myself.


Billbert settled down onto the roof of the library. Giddy from escaping the bully he fought the desire to laugh out loud so that he could hear what Roderick said on the ground below.
“Get down here with that bag or I’m gonna kick your skinny butt.”
Billbert considered camping out on the roof for the rest of his life. But why? With his plastic grocery bag, he could fly anywhere.
Making sure to stay out of Roderick’s view, Billbert circled around and landed on the ground near his locker. Safely locking the bag away he hurried to his class.


George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Other pirates looked at raids as work.
George looked at them as camping trips.
He’d pack all kinds of things for the raid, such as a portable stove, a change of clothes, and meals ready to eat.
“You don’t need all of that,” said the captain. “Just steal food during the raid..”
This assumed that the pirates would succeed.
Which they didn’t.
George quickly changed clothes and posed as a lost tourist.
The townspeople welcomed him. “Sorry for the mess,” they said “Want to watch us hang some pirates?”

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.