Weekly Challenge #661 – Belt

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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 conveyor belt carried a collection of distorted torsos. They had been hanging at the exhibition dock for a few weeks.
“Is this what they’ll eat?”
The others nodded. “Ripe and packed with proteins, sir.”
“Don’t you think the meat is too ripe? How do you expect those damn humans to work properly if you give them this?”
The others looked alarmed.
“Sector 6 is proud to provide quality food. Would you like to taste the meat?”
“Well, no. You taste the meat.”
Ward 2 became packed with Sector 6 personnel for a few damn weeks.


Belt up and brace

It’s always disconcerting when the seat belt sign comes on without warning.

When that gentle chime sounds for no apparent reason, your first instinct is to look around for reassurance, which is rarely forthcoming: The stewardess gives you a tight-lipped smile as she makes her way purposely to the front, “Probably just a precaution, sir.”

Your ears strain for changes in engine tone; every unexpected noise makes you clench the seat arms more tightly; you pray it’s just turbulence.

Realisation dawns: You’re in a four hundred ton metal tube, seven miles up… 

And there’s nothing at all you can do.


What does Santa keep in his belt? I mean it MUST be a utility belt – just like Batman.
How could one man crack every security code, pick every lock, eat every cookie, and sneak away unnoticed? 
One thing I’m sure of: Santa packs the adult sized diapers.  No, not just for him!  For the reindeer as well! 
Think about it.  If he travels all around the world and stops at every house, there is no time for a pit stop.  
When was the last time you read of a family waking up to a jolly man pooing in their bathroom? 


A matter of comfort                                                            

Timmy didn’t like belts. The edges cut across his hips and made him feel massively uncomfortable. Mom being a good Mom got Timmy a pair of suspenders. This suited Timmy just fine. Through the rest of his life he went beltless. There is a joke about a man who were a belt and suspenders. What do you call this man:  insecure. Timmy never thought this was very funny. In the 70’s Timmy wore rainbow suspenders. When he finally passed away the fools at the funeral home dress him up with a belt. His friends removed. Helook much better


Going Around


 Jon DeCles

Sometimes inconsistencies are beneficial.  We have the Asteroid Belt and the Kuiper Belt, but we have the Rings of Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Haumea.There seems to be something deep and psychological about circular objects, and particularly related to the female of the species.  Both rings and belts have been associated with marriage rites.Collars, another circular object, seem to be associated with ownership and slavery for the most part.  You read about rings of power, about power belts, but you don’t read about collars of power.  You read about dog collars and leashes or collars with bells for animals.


Belt up… It’s going to be a bumpy ride! 

In fact, I can guarantee that you’ll be screaming right from the moment we start! From there onwards, it’s going to be a roller coaster journey that will test you to the limit, physically, mentally and emotionally. And no matter how much you beg and plead to stop, this is a one way trip. There’s no getting off until we’re done.

At least you’ll have company for the ride, because this is one nightmare trip that every one of us will be taking together.

Welcome, to the ride… Of your life!


Arthur pulled the knife from his belt and proceeded to carve a pentagram into the abdomen that had been rude enough to brush against him causing half his whiskey sour to splash on the bar. Not that it mattered. That was possibly the worst whiskey sour he had ever tasted in his life and he had tasted many. It was a matter of principle. Unless you provided examples to those around you you could expect to be bumped into daily and with out so much as by your leave. 

Well, it was time to move on to the next bar.


Billbert frowned. “How is not smelling bad a superpower?”
“Think about it,” his father said. “Eustacia never has to brush her teeth or use deodorant. And have you ever noticed how often she sprays Fabreeze where ever she goes, especially after eating her seven bean casserole?”
“She farts fabreeze?”
“Don’t worry, son. Once you’ve gotten a few years as a super hero under your belt, it will all make sense.” He put a hand on Billbert’s shoulder. “It may be a few more years before your powers show up, though.”
“Well. To tell you the truth, Dad. I can fly.”


I remember when my Dad would take off his belt and beat me with it.
“Just wait until your father gets home!” my mother would say.
And he’d get home. And he’d take off his belt. And he’d beat me with it.
So, I did the thing that any normal kid would do.
I destroyed all of my father’s belts.
“What are you going to beat me with now?” I’d say.
He beat me with one of my belts.
So, I destroyed all of my own belts, too.
I destroyed every belt.
And that’s how I became Batman’s nemesis: Beltman.

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