How Do You Write 100 Word Stories #47

Many folk are teaching their singing dog how do you Tom write a 100 word story

I like fragments. I think they show good faith in your reader to maintain a trail of thought. Does every thought contain an action? Personally I think a state of being verb is rubbish. Just leave it out people know what your saying. And as for those bibliophile grammatical effete finger wagers I got a second amendment solution for you. And while we’re on the subject I’m getting way bent every time the spell check throws up a squiggle green line and points out my words are a fragment. Bit me grammar check and the dictionary you rode in on.

Bodyguard

Many years ago I was rich, but how I got rich did not sit well with those I got rich off of, so I hired a bodyguard.
My bodyguard turned out to be one of the people I had gotten rich off of, so I hired a bodyguard to protect me from my bodyguard.
But that bodyguard had gotten rich off of my original bodyguard, so he was loyal to that man and not me, so I hired another bodyguard.
All these bodyguards bankrupted me.
My former bodyguard, who had gotten rich off of me, hired me… as a bodyguard.

How Do You Write 100 Word Stories #46

Many folk who are bank robbers are adding the following to their withdraw demand how do you tom write a 100 word story

Is bad sex better then a good book? That’s a stupid question. I bet you don’t get out much. Mother still choosing your clothes for the day. Think about it sex —- books, that’s like debating whose stronger superman or might mouse. Or who is funnier Donald duck or Duffy duck. Neapolitan ice cream or rocky road. Post deconstruction angst or Victorian sensibility You could say its in the eye of the beholder, different strokes for different folks. But my Greek chores will always go with sex over a book any day of the week. Unless, does it have pictures?

The Sleep Till Noon Gene

My friend Mikey hates waking up early every day.
He wishes he had the Sleep Till Noon gene.
What he doesn’t know is that such a gene exists, and a well-known bioengineering firm has recently sequenced it.
Most of their research is still in the lab, but they have applied for a patent with a genetically-modified corn with the gene.
It’s corn that sleeps till noon.
The idea behind it is that the corn will sleep till noon, so the farmer can harvest it while it sleeps.
Cruelty-free corn harvesting!
(Unlike normal genetically-modified corn, which screams really loud when harvested.)

How Do You Write 100 Word Stories #45

Many folk have entered into lengthy psychotherapy to rid themselves of how would Tom write a 100 word story

I write to make my mom happy. Well that’s not quiet right. I write to hear my mom say “ That’s nice.” There is no better feeling in the world then hearing those words. Pure acceptance. I don’t write for my dad he does much care for reading. I think its the metal plate in his head it picks up random radio stations. He still says “That’s nice” when the station signs off for the night, but I don’t believe him. One day I’ll write for myself, but for now parental acceptance is enough weather it is sincere or not.

That Pumpkin

Back in college, we had pumpkin carving contests.
All of the pumpkins were sent to the children’s ward of a nearby hospital.
Well, almost all.
Everybody else made your typical not-very-scary faces and outlines of flying witches.
I made a screaming face and stuck a saw through the top.
Then I mixed ketchup and quickdrying paint to add the effect of dripping blood.
“Don’t you know this is for kids in the hospital?” they asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Wait… it’s not a mental hospital?”
Oops. My mistake.
Really, I figured the saw could be handy for cutting through the bars.

How Do You Write 100 Word Stories #44

Many folk have been working on combining six degrees of Kevin Bacon with how do you tom write a 100 word story

surprisingly the common thread is North Dakota

I have finished it. It is done. It is the first prefect 100-word story. I showed it to my College professor. He wept. I sent it to a prestigious British publishing house. They wept. When it ended up on the pope’s night table and he wept I knew I had arrived. What do I do now? Life is no longer bright and full of endless possibilities. It’s merely gray and formless. I am goalless and unfulfilled. I could move on to 200 word stories, but what’s the point. So I sit in a chair on the porch watch the cats.

The Land of The Lost

Every time I do laundry, I always find an extra sock or shirt in there.
Extra knives show up in my kitchen drawers. Strange keys and wallets on my nightstand.
It’s frustrating, but it happens to everyone, right?
My grandmother told me about a place where things disappeared all the time: socks from the laundry, keys from your pocket, and even pickles off of hamburgers you got from the drive-through window.
“And they show up here,” she said.
People called her crazy, and one day, she wasn’t in her room.
I wonder if she showed up in the other place.

How Do You Write 100 Word Stories #43

Many folk have used their Klingon to English dictionaries to cull out how do you Tom write a 100 word story

What’s your favorite book? Mine is Frog goes to Dinner. I like it because it gots a lot of pictures. How can anyone write a book that does have a lot of pictures? Boring. I guess that’s why people fall asleep while reading. My second favorite book is the Gray’s Anatomy Coloring book. I get to use all my crayons. When I used my crayons on that Gutenberg bible they stop letting me go to the library. Oh ya why is Frog my favorite story. It doesn’t have any words, you got to make the story up on your own.

From The Old Country

I rolled it over my tongue. It was earthy but sweet. I couldn’t quite place it. Another forkful dredged up a different combination. It was acidy, but creamy. Maybe it’s an herb or some spice from deep inside my Great Aunt Franny’s Panty. “Louisa what’s in this goulash?” “It’s Meganweiss mama brought it over from the old country. She called it her Mystery Ingredient” What so mysterious about it?” I asked. “It only grows in Prague on the grave of Judah Loew ben Bezalel.” Lousia showed me the last surviving flower in Aunt Franny’s amber jar. It had six leaves.