Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was Be Italian!
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
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Tom
Be Italian
Take a chance and try to steal a fiery kiss
That’s what mama said
Bambino that how you’ll get ahead
Drink the wine and drive the line
Be a lover undercover
Do not regress always that the leap
When you dead Bambino you can sleep
So I drive this spider as hard as I may
Never look back along the way
Seize the darkness Seize the day
Take my hand
Take my heart
Take a chance
Let it start
Put the petal
To the metal
We were born to go fast
Live today as if it may become your last
Zackmann
Why are you guys dressed up with the cowboy hats and chaps looking like the singers on the
Mexican cable television network?
But we were supposed to be Italian because we are making a movie.
Why you are throwing noodles at each other and why your brother isn’t with you?
He said it was a sacrilege. He has been so much less fun after he got religion. You would think
a Pastafarian would have a sense of humor
Although you guys seem to be having fun, I don’t think you get the whole concept of the
spaghetti western.
You look like heck. What happen to your face? Nice Shiner.
I happened to be a crowed commuter train and these two Italian guys were talking and I was the
only one who didn’t understand that there was good reason the seat between the talking Italians
was empty.
Will you get revenge on the guy who hit you in the eye?
No, I think he is a nice guy but just in case I have to sit next to him again I am buying him a copy
of Jim Lavriola’s How to Talk Italian Without Using Your Hands.
AM Earley
“Mr. Napoli, I know you want all your son-in-laws to be Italian,” John stated in fluent Italian to his future father-in-law. “I am African-American, but I was born and raised in Italy on a US Air Base.” The father conceded his first criteria. “I can provide for your daughter. I have a very good job in software development.” After more description the father conceded the second criteria. “As for having something in common with yourself, I know you embezzled money from the mob. I however will return your money after the wedding.”
Todd
I touched the “Be Italian!” button. There was a soft click and the smell of brimstone filled the tiny booth.
My freckled skin turned olive, then slightly orange. The paunch of my stomach transformed into a six pack. My curly red hair straightened, darkened, highlighted blond, and finally spiked.
Before I could hit the Cancel button, the lights dimmed and a mirror ball lowered from the ceiling. My head tilted sideways to cradle a set of headphones against my shoulder. My fist rose involuntarily and started pumping to the beat.
That’s the last time I use the discount Simulation Machine.
TJ
Now more than ever it is the best time to be Italian! We work three,
maybe four hours a week, we sleep til noon, we eat all the Italian food
we want and look fabulous, we all drive Ferraris and Vespas and are
surrounded with unimaginable beauty. And if you’re a very young woman,
you can get a private audience with our Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi
and work out some deal whereby your family isn’t charged any taxes at
one of our bunga-bunga sex parties! Sure our government will collapse
any day now but honestly, what a way to go!
Danny
I’m Italian! Not Italian enough to be accepted in my Guido neighborhood in New Jersey, but Italian enough to be considered Italian everywhere else. My maternal grandfather was from Italy, a rural area in the mountains north of Naples. My grandfather was Anthony Festa. Grandpa changed his name from Festa to Foster, because of the discrimination all Italians endured during the 1920’s and 1930’s here in the United States. Despite the discrimination, my grandfather became a very successful businessman. He died 8 years before I was born, so I never got to meet him. I cannot thank him enough for my life.
Norval Joe
“Eh, Tony,” Larry said as he dropped down onto the padded vinyl bench. “Wadda ya thinkin? This place is a dump?”
“What’s the matter with you, Lare?” Burt asked. “And why are you calling me Tony? You know my name’s Burt.”
“Wadda ya talkin about?” Larry raised his hands in the air dramatically. “The name’s Louie. And how you evah gonna meet chicks in this place?”
“We eat lunch here everyday,” Burt said. “And what’s with the slicked back hair?”
“I thought maybe we’s could be italian,” Larry winked. “We might finally get some chicks. You know what I mean?”
Planet Z
It was closing night, and the cast was already drunk.
The director would have been pulling his hair out over all the jokes and mistakes if he hadn’t have passed out by act 2.
Hamlet walks out on the stage and utters the immortal Bard’s words: “To be or not to be Italian.”
I didn’t hear what came next because a fat guy in the front row stood up and shouted “I’m Italian! Wanna make something of it?”
Hamlet, being drunk, did.
Instead of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, he got his nose broken by a hairy-knuckled fist.
Ouch.
I vote Tom wins. Even if he doesn’t, Tom totally wins. Well done. :)