I’m all about the educational toys.
Most kids get little wooden alphabet blocks.
Not my kid. That stuff’s for babies. They stick them in their mouths and drool.
No challenge at all. How’s that educational?
I’m giving my kid alphabet cinderblocks.
Yeah, they had cinderblocks for sale at the Home Depot.
I sprayed on primer and painted some letters on the things.
My kid’s gonna be the strongest in spelling… literally.
No dummies or wimps in this house.
“Hey! Johnnyboy! Quit your blubbering and spell me DOG? I said DOG. No no no lift with THE LEGS, not your BACK!”
Spinning
I remember when Suzie would go into my study and spin the antique globe, watching the world rush by in a blur.
She’d close her eyes, stab at the globe with a finger, and shout “STOP!”
Opening her eyes, she’d ask me if I’ve ever been to that place.
“Why, yes, I have,” I start, spinning an epic tale of adventure and romance and danger and treasure.
The kidnappers sent us her shoe, took the money, and vanished without a trace.
I spin the globe one last time, shout “STOP!” and imagine Suzie there.
I can feel the poison spread.
Castaway
Joe’s ship wrecked on an uncharted island.
He had a supply of fresh water, all the fruit and fish and other good things to eat, and the weather was pleasant year-round.
Bored? Nope. His boat was loaded with books.
Nobody came searching for him, and after a few weeks, he grew used to being alone.
And he liked it.
However, every day, crabs would come up on shore and spell out HELP on the sand.
They glittered and glistened in the sun.
Joe would scatter them and brush away their telltale scuttle-trails
And he went back to reading his books.
The Tyrant
The Old Tyrant yells “Load the carriage faster! I need to escape before-”
Shouting! Beyond the gate!
A mob from the city, surrounding his castle.
“Guards! Protect me!” he yells.
The guards run out through the gate to meet the crowd.
And then, they rush back, closing the gate and blocking it.
From the outside.
“They won’t let you leave,” said his assistant. “They want you to stay on as ruler.”
“But I’m tired of running this country!” the Tyrant whined. “Don’t they want democracy? Freedom?”
“No. They want prosperity. Stability. You provide that.”
The exhausted tyrant wept and screamed.
The Doesn’t Matterhorn
One evening, several costumed cast members from Disney World got hammered at the British pub in Epcot and attempted an ascent of Space Mountain.
They were ill-prepared and barely-equipped for the harsh terrain, and even with the help of catwalks and stairs they still lost 3 of their party.
Well, actually, they just lost their oversized heads. A fourth: Pooh Bear, threw up in his costume, and Ariel the Mermaid got her tail caught in the coaster track.
By the time they reached the summit, Security had nabbed them all.
Too bad. They were going to attempt the Matterhorn next.
Third Thumb
I once heard of a psychic claiming they had a “third eye.”
Well, then I must have a “third thumb.”
You see, I’m a movie critic. The Celluloid Spy.
And I’m afraid of the dark.
Yeah, I hire mailroom interns to stand in for me at movie screenings.
My trademark trenchcoat, fedora, and fake beard make sense now, right?
So, when you wonder if the critic saw the same movie did, you’re right: I didn’t.
But here’s the creepy thing. I’ve been accurate in my plot synopses and ratings.
Stupid kid, getting hit by that truck.
Never saw that coming.
Weekly Challenge #263 – “Toast”
Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.
This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Three, 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 “Toast”
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.
Rah
“Female. 45 years old. Third degree burns on upper right arm.”
The skin was split, glossy.
Sizzling bacon. Popping fat.
Charred skin and yellow adipose tissue.
Burnt buttered toast.
Paul vomited.
Two years for an associate’s degree in nursing, working small jobs in off hours to pay the bills; his first assignment was burn ward.
“Another smoke break Paul?” the doctor asked. He chuckled and walked away.
Paul grunted and continued to watch traffic on the overpass. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips.
“Beats part-time at the Waffle House”, his roommate had commented this morning.
Yeah right, Paul thought.
Tom
Your toast Timmy.
I can explain Frankie.
Don’t think so, Big Louie
Isn’t pleased and when Louie
Is displeased dis isn’t good.
“Hows bout I just disappear.”
“Just what we zz had in mind”
Two pop Timmy hits the floor
Like Lewis in the 5th round.
Frankie folds Timmy’s arms
Cross this chest and places a lily in his hand.
Don’t he look peaceful mused Frankie
All Easter Sunday.
Two pop echo off the garage roof
Frankie tumbles into 47 Packard trunk
Little Rude tows a red blow on to Frankie’s chest.
Merry Chirstmas Frances.
From the shadows comes two pops.
AM Earley
“A toast to the newlywed couple.”
“A toast to our hockey team going to the playoffs.”
“No toast to our basketball team who lost the playoffs.”
“A moment of silence for all the victims of the tornados.”
The foursome didn’t say anything, but the room wasn’t silent. Twenty televisions still blasted away in the sports bar.
Ten minutes into their meal, all the televisions went out. Groans and yells persisted into the bar until the owner emerged from the back. “I can’t get anything on the computer to work. It’s all toast.”
“A toast to technology. It’s great, only when it works.”
Danny
Jack sat in his favorite chair in front of the fire, toasting his feet on a cold snowy evening at his remote cabin in the northwestern mountains. Satisfied with the results of his previous hunts, the meat was preserved and safely stored in his outdoor freezer. With supply cabinets full, and wild nuts picked earlier toasting by the fire, Jack was ready to settle in for the long winter ahead. With the wind howling outside, Jack knew that anyone caught in this storm would quickly be toast. He prayed for their safe passage, then fell asleep as the night closed in.
Zackmann
We need to fight the bad press Atkins gave the baked goods industry. My plan is to start
something called ToastCon. We will get people to come together and celebrate bread. When
people are in lines waiting to register we will bring them a breakfast of Toast with choice of
butter, honey, jam, or jelly. We will have women dressed as bread slices. Pan Panels about
baking, building your own toaster, bread in popular culture, and impact of bread on society.
Music by Throwing Toasters. The bread company CEO then interrupted saying “Wheat a minute
sir, will this really work?”
TJ Aman
When I see Dave and Rebecca here today I can’t help but cast my mind
back to where these crazy kids were just one year ago. Rebecca was just
a shy, wide-eyed kid at the checkout counter open to new life and new
possibilities. Who could’ve known that fateful day, she could be
ringing up the groceries of the man she would be spending the rest of
her life with? Certainly not Dave, who as it happens was sleeping with
me at the time, so welcome to marital bliss, Becky, and make sure your
shots are up to date. L’chaim.
Norval Joe
“Hey buddy,” Carl shouted; loud enough to be heard over the noisy crowd. “Can I get another stack of toast over here?”
“Hold your horses, pal,” the lead chef growled back, “we got a lot of people calling for the same thing. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”
It was true. Several cooks rushed about and handed out toast as quick as they could pull it from the dozen toasters lined up on the work bench.
“Whatever,” Carl said. “I only have half this roof shingled. If it rains before I get done, your the ones who’ll be sorry.”
Planet Z
Curiosity killed the cat, and nearly everybody else with it.
You see, I grew up hearing that the buttered side of the toast always lands face down.
And cats always land on their feet.
So, I taped some buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it.
What a fool I was.
The barrier between our world and dreams came down, torn apart by the quantum storms. Shadows reached out from the darkness, the walls
Millions… billions of lives lost because I just had to mess around with elemental forces.
Not that there’s much left, but I will never play with my food ever again.
The Pool
I was walking to the pool when my mother yelled “You just ate, so don’t go swimming.”
Oh. Right.
Don’t swim within half an hour of eating or you’ll get cramps.
So, instead of swimming, I ran around the pool.
“No running around the pool!” my mother yelled.
So, I stopped running around the pool.
Instead, I ran around the house with scissors.
“Are you crazy?” my mother shouted. “Never run around the house with scissors!”
So I went outside and ran around the pool with scissors for thirty minutes.
And dove into the shallow end, scissors firmly in hand.
Baby Bunnies
If bunnies eat carrots, do baby bunnies eat baby carrots?
The answer is… well… sorta.
It depends on how young the baby bunny is.
If it’s a newborn, then it needs to nurse before it can eat solid foods.
Once it can eat solid food, you can feed it any kind of carrots or healthy vegetables.
Unless it’s a vampire bunny.
Those do not eat vampire carrots. Or vampire baby carrots.
Those drink blood.
So, why are you asking me this?
Oh. That’s what’s in the cage you brought me?
This empty cage.
I’d suggest we run. Away. Really fast.
Save My Baby!
A woman shouts “SAVE MY BABY!” and she points to a bakery.
I run into the bakery and see a drooling and gibbering chef wrapping a baby into a pie crust.
“Stop!” I growl, grabbing the baby from the chef. “That’s just wrong. And barbaric”
I pull out my smartphone and showed the chef how you’re supposed to cook a baby.
“You can’t just stick it in the oven,” I say. “Cut it up into sections.”
He smiled, got out his butcher’s knife, and I shut the door to the bakery.
How can the man work with all that screaming?