Weekly Challenge #652 – Turtle

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.

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The golden rule

Danny ‘Fries With That’ McDonaldson had earned a break; and now that his burger business was making a profit, he felt comfortable with taking some time off and leaving his brother, Dilbert, in charge.

Dilbert wasn’t the brightest, so Danny kept his instructions to a mere hundred words, and headed off to the beach.

When he returned, after two weeks, the business was failing. Dilbert in his wisdom had done away with steak, and was now selling turtle burgers instead!

“For crying out loud!” Danny ranted, “I can’t believe you broke the golden rule of burgers…”

“Always… Keep it beef!”


“Pirates are turtles.”
The others at the table frowned. Most of them were pirates.
“Yes, turtles.”
“You drank too much, mate.”
“No, no. Turtles, they are.”
“Why turtles?”
The man prepared to stand up and walk away.
“Wait, wait. Have a seat. Explain why we’re turtles.”
The others frowned.
“Turtles or parrots?”
The man raised his beer mug and laughed.
“Another round for the boys!”
Everyone forgot about the turtle story.
When the man walked away he had several pouches of coins in his pocket.
“Slow blabbers,” he whispered.


The turtle, as unique and well designed as it is, has never been employed as a means of mass transport. A quick bimble around the garden or across the river may suffice for the turtle, but once the scorpion is introduced into the story you know this did not turn out well for the turtle nor the scorpion.

I’ve never ridden a turtle, but I did take a ride on the back of a large, green, seat turtle while in the Galapagos on a vacation.

The turtle took me for a spin, as we dodged tour boats and scuba divers.


We don’t know how it happened. The bottom of the shell was cracked and the plates were loose. Jimminy, the box turtle that lived in the garden, needed help, now. He had to stop dragging his shell across the ground. It was hurting him and it could do more damage to his organs if we didn’t do something.

Lani had some popsicle sticks, string, some rubber wheels, some cotton packing, and Leggo pieces.

We cobbled together a contraption that Jimminy could wear. It would keep his shell off the ground allowing him to pull himself along until his shell healed.


Fear the Turtle
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sports team mascots tend to emphasize their ferocity: the Chicago Bears, Philadelphia Eagles, Carolina Panthers, Penn State Nittany Lions, Michigan Wolverines. Political correctness has forced some teams to replace mascots with watered-down versions: William and Mary is still the Tribe but can’t use the Indian logo. Similarly, the Atlanta Braves dropped long-time mascot Chief Noc-A-Homa. Fairfax High School, in Virginia, ditched Johnny Reb in the 1980s, opting to do without a mascot.

Here’s to the Maryland Terrapins, then. A school so splendidly confident that its mascot is the very definition of slowness combined with a knack for avoiding fights by hiding in its shell. A bold decision.


Someone asked what my spirit animal might be. I suggested snapping turtle, because there’s much I have in common with that creature.

I hide away, only coming out of my shell if provoked, I’ve a thick impervious skin, and I’ll attack without warning. Like the turtle, once you’re in my grasp, I’ll draw blood and I’ll not let go.

And yet, I seem so inoffensive, you might even think I’m cute.

So, why don’t you come a little closer… Try to give me a cuddle. No need to be afraid.

But don’t be surprised when I tear your fingers off!


All the way down

Mitch was a turtle’s turtle. Totally hard sheller. Quick to snap at any dissent in the rank and file. He ran the race so slowly it was easy to miss the infinite course corrections. That reptile was will to given up any conservative creed to gain the greater goal. If is took 100 years, the Mitch, would make it the law of Turledom all turtle eggs will come to term. Well it didn’t quite work out the way Mitch had planned. The Turtle Two movement took him out of office, and a Mack truck took him out on the road.




Jon DeCles

Leonardo’s tank was based on his observations of a turtle in a pond near his home. Many of his inventions were based on natural phenomena, like the set of wings he designed to allow a man to fly like a bird. He noticed, on an outing at the seashore, that seals could swim underwater for a very long time while hunting fish and other delicacies, and so he designed a submersible ship that could do the same.

The sun heated stones and the stones held the heat, but that was not worth jotting down: even a fool could understand that.



By Jon DeCles

Chaos was what there was before the Big Bang. That’s an important part of Greek Cosmology. It is not Nothingness, it is a lack of Somethingness. What you might call substance without spiritual definition. A stage of complete lack of any kind of organization on any level.

The Tower of Babel is a Biblical depiction of Chaos brought about by linguistic disintigration. If Nobody can speak a common language Nobody can communicate. If even part of the people can speak more than one language then the Chaos begins to come under control. The more commonality, the less Chaos.

Speak Broadly!


Linoliumanda pulled Billbert toward her bed.
“Um. I really don’t think,” Billbert began.
“What? Oh.” Linoliumanda blushed. “I just want to talk.”
Billbert perched on the edge of the bed, his hands in his lap. Linoliumanda sat next to him.
He looked around expecting to find decorations of unicorns or something magic related. To his surprise, everything was turtles — pink turtles.
There were turtle pillows on the bed, a pink and purple turtle pattern bedspread, turtle wallpaper, turtle posters and turtle ornaments.
“You like turtles?” Billbert asked.
“Yes. How did you know?” she asked, apparently surprised by his observation.


Back when I could eat candy, I loved those turtle candies.
Chocolate, caramel, pralines, and…
Oh, I miss them so.
Now that I can’t eat them, I miss them that much more.
For a while, I’d put one in my mouth, chew it up, and spit it out.
But I was too tempted to swallow them, and I had to stop.
I’d try to breathe them in, or get turtle-flavored coffee, but I can’t have coffee, either.
Now, I just walk past the candy shop, not even looking in the window.
“Enjoy it while you can, kids,” I whisper quietly.

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