Flat Feet

639159

Someone’s out there in the field.
I’d better check it out.
So, I follow the trail of footprints through the mud.
Big feet. Flat arches, too.
Who walks around in this field without shoes on? What kind of crazy person does that? They could step on a rock or a nail.
My feet ached at the thought of it.
I didn’t see anyone.
For an hour, I walked around the field, until I come back to where the trail started.
I looked down and realized that I am barefoot.
Oh. Right. I’m out here.
No wonder why my feet hurt.

Shampoo

639157

These days, people will put just about anything in shampoo.
They shove all kinda of flowers and stuff in there and call it “herbal.”
Once, I was given a sample to try.
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” said the marketer. “Go ahead and try it.”
So, I took it home, got in the shower, soaked my hair, and poured it on.
It started to tingle the moment the water hit it.
Then it heated up. Exciting.
Oops! I’ve gotten some in my eyes.
As I washed it out, that’s when I felt it burn.
HOLY SHIT! JALAPENOS!

The Brick

639159

I know a man who can shit bricks.
He eats three pounds of clay daily.
Then, he squats down on the ground and shits a brick.
He’s been doing this shit for years. Behind his house is a brick wall.
He’s shit every one of those bricks himself.
I asked him why he does this when he can just go down to the Home Depot and get bricks.
“There’s something about making something with your own two hands,” he said. “Or, in this case, your ass-cheeks.”
The other night, his wall fell over.
The dumbass didn’t think to use mortar.

Helper

639156

You can tell who has a Helper biochip and who doesn’t.
Every few minutes, their left eye goes hazy and blank.
That’s them talking to HelpNet. And the Helper talking back.
We use just 10 percent of our brains. Helper uses some of the rest to offer advice, keep schedules, remember things, too. Local storage. Reminders. Suggestions. Warnings.
Helpers connect to the global network to pull up scores, stock quotes, dinner reservations.
Sometimes, Helpers get too helpful. They take over, and when they link to HelpNet…
That’s when we stop being ourselves.
Take off those sunglasses and look at me.

Weekly Challenge #150 – Just let me touch it…

10183858

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty, 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… was…. um…
It’s Just let me touch it….
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories from Weekly Challenge #150?
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Guy David from http://guydavid.com
Ashley
Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com
Almo
Michael
Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
Norval from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
Sougent from http://sladventures.sougent.com/
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Tom
Swahili -English Dictionary

The light chocolate horizon was broken by a rather tall Acacia. The sun rose brightly over the savanna, over the Acacias. It was here Ymoja Nzambi stood gazing at the bloody work of her brother Ogun. He dropped the impala with a single blow. A hunter at last he thought. “Tu utakodi mimi shika swala!” implored Ymoja. Ogun ignore her until he heard her draw her knife. “Shaka” whispered Ymoja. “Nya” cursed Ogun” Tomba …. Vikuto.” enda mbio enda bullet ama pigano?” inquired Ymoja. “Panda mti.” And up the Acacia they scrabbled. They watched sadly as Vikuto consumed the Swala.

Anima

You know how they say you should trust your inner voice? What do you do when it mutters foreign gibberish?
¡Ai caramba! Dejame tocarlo…
I ransack my brain for the dregs of my college Spanish to figure out what I am saying.
Just let me touch it…
Worse, we start to argue…
No, that’s not a good idea…
¡Por qué no?! ¡Eres tan miedoso! Scardeypants!
That did it. I reach out my hand… touching the bushy caterpillar of Frida Kahlo’s eyebrow. Immediately it transforms into a vivid blue butterfly and flutters away.
Damn, that’s good Mescal. Self, pour another round!

Guy David

“But… can you do it?” I asked, eyeing his suspiciously. I never liked those federal types. I always suspected them of being oblivious of the consequences. “Nothing to it” said the man in the black overcoat. I checked my watch. It was nearly time now. “Just let me touch it one last time” I asked. “Sure” he said, “Just don’t break it.” The Pterospondylus egg lay before me. I touched it gently, then they took it and rolled it into the incubator. As I watched the egg in the incubator, I envisioned a future where flying dinosaurs grace our skies.

Ashley

The car swerved violently to miss the animal. No such luck. Both mother and daughter went to have a look.
“Mommy is it dead? Can I touch it pleeeaaasssseee,” begged the little girl?
“No. Just look at that thing, all grey and scaly. We don’t know where it’s been.”
Suddenly a bright beam knocked them both unconscious. A large and small alien exited a spaceship hissing back and forth.
Translation:
“May I examine with tactile function? Or procure one,” queried the small alien?
“Negative. Return to the vessel. They will recover shortly. I must decontaminate your sibling prior to retrieval.”

Jeff

“Alright I need a full report, what happened here.”
“Well sir, I am not quite sure, but the basics.”
“Just tell me what happened private, the world is in ruins and it started in this room.”
“Well sir, there was this little kid.”
“A little kid?”
“Yeah she was running around and asking about everything.”
“A little kid? Here?”
“Bring your child to work day. Well she just kept saying she just wanted to touch the button. We didn’t think it would do anything since you have to push both.”
“Didn’t you read the memo about the safeties being removed?”

Almo

God gave Adam and Eve the guided tour of the Garden of Eden. “Look,” God said, “the ground rules are simple. Eat anything you want, all you want without guilt, except for the stuff on this tree.”
God pointed at the Tree of Knowledge. Adam and Eve’s eyes got big.
“Hey, listen up,” God said, raising his voice. “Even the chimps can follow this rule.”
“Just let me touch it,” Adam said, and he began to move his finger closer and closer to the forbidden fruit.
“Adam, don’t be a putz,” God said, and smacked Adam’s hand away. He saw this would not be good.

Michael

“If you just let me touch it and hold it I know I can make it smaller and it won’t be hard any more.”
She acts like she knows everything.
She pulls this little prank every time there’s a crowd.
To hell with her – I’ll go along one more time.
I reach down into my cup and grab the biggest one I can find.
But I ask you, what’s so damned magical about holding an ice cube until it melts?

Lynda

“Just let me touch it,” you said.
“It’s so cute,” you said.
“I’ll be really careful,” you said.
Back in my day, bombs had fierce shit painted on them. Tigers, sharks, naked broads, things with teeth! We could insult the bastards we were gonna kill, none of this cutesy pastel non-threatening shit like big-eyed bunnies and daisies. “Have a nice afterlife!”
Can’t have menacing looking instruments of doom these days.
A bomb’s a bomb, Jenkins. Triggers and wires and death. Totally non-huggable.
I hope you’re happy.
Oh that’s right, you’re fried to a crisp.
Where the hell is my leg?

Norval

Approaching the shop, he knew that the object was inside. Its power drew him, and he knew, once inside, his time was limited. He greeted the shopkeeper behind the workbench.
“You have a device; small, green, with runic script across it?”
Surprised, he answered “Yes” and produced it from a cabinet.
“May I hold it?” he asked.
“It’s been in my family for centuries,” the shopkeeper replied, hesitating.
“Just let me touch it,” He nearly screamed in desperation.
Stepping back, the shopkeeper cowered.
He knew that he had lost his one chance as he felt his body becoming less substantial

Justin

“Please, can I touch it, just once?”
Timmy’s father shook his head gravely.
“It must’nt ever be opened. To avoid temptation, you mustn’t touch it.”
Timmy kept staring.
“Pay it no mind. We must guard it, but we needn’t stare at it.”
His father slept. Timmy stared at it, then touched it.
Open me!
The voice was so beautiful he couldn’t resist it. He flipped the lid off of the Pandoraingles cylinder. A hollow echo sounded as potato crisps of burdensome labor, ill, and disease escaped.
His father awoke.
“What have you done! Once you pop, the evil don’t stop!”

Sougent

Can I touch it? Huh? Can I, can I? Huh? Can I?
Please let me touch it, I wanna touch it. Can I, can I? Please?
You never let me touch it, I wanna touch it. Can I touch it?
Pleeeese let me touch it.
I just wanna touch it once, please, please, please, can I touch it?
I don’t like you, you’re mean, you never let me touch it. All I
wanna do is touch it.
I won’t hurt it, please let me touch it.
But Willie, you ain’t got no hands.
Just let me touch it…….pleeeeeese.

Planet Z

Slip the surly bonds of Earth, President Reagan said, and touch the face of God.
That was my father up there, the whole world watching him die.
It has taken me years, but I am ready to go to space, to ascend to the heavens and touch that face.
Can I touch it? Will I reach where my father before me failed?
Or will my own son watch my demise among the clouds, luring him into the sky as my father did to me?
Just let me touch it, and wipe away that final tear forever.
From my own face.

Her Eyes

639158

Every city has an Oracle.
Every Oracle has a secret to hide.
The bartender with the bandage over her face told us some things should not be known.
“What color are your eyes?” asked Joe.
I elbowed him in the ribs. He laughed.
She put down the rag she was polishing the bar with and pointed to a jar on a shelf.
Blue. Her eyes had been blue.
“What color are they now?” Joe asked.
She sighed, reaching across the bar and putting her hand to Joe’s face.
“Whatever these are,” she said, and Joe screamed, his empty eyesockets bleeding.

The Pie

639157

She asks me what my favorite scent is.
Pie. Pumpkin pie.
The best pumpkin pie I have ever smelled was a gift.
A woman who had scorned me had left it on her windowsill to cool in the gentle evening breeze as she slept with her new lover.
I took the pie and tossed in a Molotov cocktail.
The fire caught quickly, too fast for them to escape.
They burned to death while I watched, finishing every last bit of the pie.
Here I am, hiding in Mexico, waiting for the heat to die down.
Got any pie? Or matches?

Last Dance

639160

All the time, folks say they can’t wait for me to up and die.
My funeral’s gonna be one hell of a party.
Clowns and dancers and musicians and fire-eaters.
Hell, I got the perfect spot for it.
There’s this dancehall I grew up around.
Everybody there, they know me.
They’re the folks who wanna see me croak.
So, when I go, they’ll have a big party there.
And bury me under the dancefloor.
That way, for the rest of their days, they don’t have to travel to dance on my grave.
Hey, it’s the least I can do.

Goldberg

639158

In all my centuries as a creature of the night, there is one thing of which I am certain.
I hate Bach.
I hate Mozart and Beethoven, too.
Oh, how my ears ache to hear Goldberg just once more.
You have never heard of Goldberg. I know this.
I heard him, long ago.
One symphony to his credit. After its first performance, I was so inspired that I drank him dry.
Dead. Gone.
The city watch caught and nearly killed me.
I escaped, but returned to the burnt-out husk of a concert hall.
Not a single note remained. Gone forever.

Wyvern

639156

Every week, the townspeople bring meat to my cave.
Sacrifices to the dragon, they say. Keep him from burning our village, like in ancient times.
I laugh.
I am no fire-breathing dragon.
I’m a wyvern.
I don’t breathe fire. Sure, my tail has a deadly sting, but it’s not like fire.
I wear the long-deceased dragon’s snout as a mask. The townsfolk feed me at night. That helps with the disguise.
When a champion comes uphill to slay the dragon, taking off the mask
gives me a few moments of surprise.
Enter sting, exit champion.
The freshest meat of all.