Alphabet Soup

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My daughter loves it when I make her alphabet soup.
But every now and then, she complains that a letter is backwards or upside-down.
“Just turn the damn bowl,” I say. “It all tastes the same.”
No, she won’t. She will stare at it and whine loudly.
“There is nothing wrong with this soup,” I say, and I eat a spoon of it. “See?”
She still won’t eat it.
I offer to make her a different soup, but she wants alphabet soup.
I blindfold her and slide the bowl in front of her.
Shut up and eat it, or starve!

Invulnerable

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Lord Bragdor’s armor stands in the Hall Of Heroes, as shiny as the day he was speared through the face in a jousting tournament.
“It was enchanted with an invulnerability spell,” said the Hall’s custodian, The Blue Wizard. “But, his visor was loose and his opponent very lucky.”
“Wouldn’t the lance have been knocked aside by the spell?” asked his apprentice Morstrawl.
“If the invulnerability had been meant for Lord Bragdor, yes,” said Blue. “But due to my misreading the spellbook, it was the armor that was invulnerable.”
The apprentice nodded, realizing why he had never had to polish it.

Weekly Challenge #148 – Gladiolas

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Forty-Eight 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 Gladiolas.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #148?
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Daniel from http://dannymachal.com>
Serge
Almo
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
Ashley
Michael S.
Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Jeff Hite from http://greathites.blogspot.com/
Norval Joe from http://www.novalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
Mike P. from http://mjpaxton.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

Mrs. Patterson escorted Mary Todd once more through the garden they had planted at Bellevue Place. “Do write me when the Gladiolas are in bloom.” said Mrs. Lincoln. “Assuredly, Mrs. Lincoln and the plans for the plant food are still your wishes?” Mrs. Lincoln spit on the ground and whispered Robert’s name. As her carriage roll out the gate on that Autumn day she mused how uneventful that Sept 11th morning felt. Years late when Robert’s coffin lid was closed, he was not within but being carted away to Bellevue in a wheel barrel. Robert would make the Gladiolas bloom.

Daniel

Hosokawa got eye level with his foe and moved closer to take in the evil essence.
His weapon poised to run through the foul being, he closed his eyes.
Hosokawa breathed in deep. “Ahh, I can smell your fear, my enemy.”
“You shiver and quake at your impending doom.”
“Be at peace, for I will give you the honor a mortal adversary deserves.”
The swift blow of a trained Samurai master was designed for one thing, ending life.
He hoisted the weed out of his flower bed and into his pail.
Even Samurai gardeners keep their skills battle ready.

Serge

She would always get buckets of exotic flowers but he gave her just one.
“Gladiola’s?” She snorted surprised, but unimpressed. “Old ladies’ flowers.”
He had dissapeared from her life but she had kept the flower. It was a
present she had learnt to appreciate with age. Now old, but still alone, she
sat in her kitchen and looked at the only true companion in her life – the
flower. Its palette of colours as fresh as ever, unchanged. Now… it truly
was an old lady’s flower.

Almo

The father looked down at his wife in the hospital bed as she cradled the
newborn daughter. “Don’t do it,” he admonished. “She will always hate you
for it.” But his wife was determined and the baby was named “Gladiolas
Messmer.”
Twenty years passed.
At Harvard’s graduation, their daughter accepted her degrees in physics and
mathematics.Gladiolas came offstage and hugged her handsome boyfriend.
She looked at her parents and said, “I have always hated you because of my
name.”
The father turned to his wife and said, “See?”
“Nick and I are getting married,” the girl said.” I am going to be Gladiolas
Heimendinger.”

Anima

Welcome to Hexalia’s Exotics!
I need a special arrangement…
Yes? What mood do you want? Is it business? Here is a lovely formal design.
Lost love reunited perhaps? Pink roses are perfect…
Friends tell me you deal in emotional blooms…
Certainly! Currently I have spears of Gladiolas, Madilolas, and Egadiolas.
Anything more dark or sinister? It’s for the rehearsal dinner of my ex and her new trophy partner…
Might I suggest a centerpiece of Callow Lilies, Shunflowers and Penury Blossums…
with sprigs of Purple Violence at each place setting… bouquets to end any relationship in 90 days or less, guaranteed.

Guy David

A sword lily at my door step. Note says “all shell be avenged”. Going about my business. An accountant by trade, taking care of costumer finance, lost in a world of numbers. Always lost in numbers. Staying up late. Sound of the door opening. Looking up. Young Ophelia at the door, in one hand a sword lily, at the other a sword. A quick step, sword piercing my heart. “Two makes a glow. Three breaks the balance” she says. I remember her body crushing into the river. Close my eyes. “I shell be back” I mutter under my last breath.

Ashley

“Hey Hank, guess what Eric just got his old lady for Valentines Day,
“said Randy.
“What, “ answered Hank?
“He said glad Iolaus!”
“What the hell, “choked Hank swallowing chewing tobacco juice?
“You know, Iolaus, from Hercules, the TV show with the big-boobed
chicks. I asked what a TV show character being happy has to do with
Valentines Day.”
“Well, what’d he say,” asked Hank?
“He just shook his head and walked off, that dumb redneck. Man, if I
ever get that ignorant, put a bullet in me, will ya,” asked Randy?
“No problem,” said Hank spitting on the ground.

Michael S.

OK. I gave into my wife always wanting me to learn to dance.
I now know how to waltz, bunnyhop, cha-cha and jitterbug. I’ve even learned
the hardest one of them all. The ola.
That dance has the steps of all the others all rolled into one.
It makes my wife so very happy. I heard her tell her mother the other day,
“I’m so glad he olas.”

Eva Moon

Alma stared at the floral arrangement he’d sent, awed by his mastery
of the symbolic language of flowers. The messages were clear:
gardenias for secret love, gladiolas for love at first sight, ivy for
fidelity, yellow roses for perfect love and peonies for wedded bliss.
It was a proposal in petals! Her eyes misted and her hand trembled as
she dialed the phone to tell him yes, yes, yes.
Earlier, at the florist:
“Nice choice. Special occasion?”
“Nah. There’s a big golf tournament the weekend of her sister’s
wedding. I need to soften her up before I drop the bomb.”

Justin

The cute little lamb chewed on the blood gladiola that had been planted by
an occult member of the ‘Save The Fluffy Animals Foundation.’ As it
swallowed the crimson petals, its eyes glazed to a solid black and single
strands of wool turned scarlet. The lamb raised its head to the sky and let
forth a dread bleat that rent a fluffy white cloud asunder. It entered the
farmhouse.
Finding the clippers, it wielded them in bloodshot tendrils of wool.
From inside the house came cries that fractured the calm silence of the
meadow, screams of the farmer’s sheared terror.

Jeffrey

It wasn’t every day a hero was woken up from suspended animation.
Then, today was not just any day, it would be the trail for all
humanity. They would be found guilty of course, how else could the
aliens plan to take the planet away.
“Are you ready for this Kildorn?”
“Was created for this.”
“Do you remember the plan?”
“Go in disrupt the trial and kill the head judge.”
“Right just go in and chop his head off then everyone will realize we
can beat them.”
“But did we have to name them Gladiolas, I feel like a gardner.”

Norval Joe

The teenage boy didn’t care that he trampled the old woman’s gladiolus; prize
winning plants that she had spent years, even decades, propagating.
Hers was the only house in the neighborhood, as yet, untagged by the street gang.
One hand held the waist of his baggy pants, the other hand shook the can of spray
paint.
In his excitement he didn’t notice the tingling of his legs. Sudden shocking pain
wracked him as vines tore into the flesh of his legs. The plants rose up and pulled
him to the earth.
By morning the ground was smooth, the flowerbed undisturbed.

Mike P.

Batman hung against the wall, bound by a thorned vine.
“Did you know that many plants reproduce sexually?” Poison Ivy teased.
“They have male parts,” she ran her fingers across his chest, “and
female parts.” She turned and walked away, hips swaying suggestively.
“Insects pick up pollen from male parts, and then rub against the
fertile female parts.”
Batman knew he had to stay focused. He began cataloging the plants in
the room. Nightshade. Caladium. Hemlock. Foxglove. Gladiolas. Aloe.
“Enh, screw it.” Ivy laid a poisoned kiss on Batman. He noticed a wall
of Lipstick Vine, and then passed out.

Planet Z

His latest experiment gone awry, Voltmaster called for the healer.
Her apprentice, nothing more than a shambling green robe, examined the wounded electromage. She took notes, rapidly communicating with a broken shard of mirror.
“Healer Twelvetrees commands a tea of mint and gladiolas,” she said. “Drink what you can fresh, and pour the rest on the burns.”
The Voltmaster agreed and paid the healer with a spool of precious copper wire.
“An antiseptic,” she said. “Nice craftsmanship.”
She loaded it on to her butterfly chariot, snapped her bony fingers, and rose slowly from the ancient castle.

Silenced

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Behold, the Great Magician Mysterio!
“With a snap of my fingers, you are silenced,” said the man in the bright red cloak.
And he did. He took off a red glove and held his hand in front of my nose.
Snap
“Go ahead,” he said. “Say something.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said: “Elephant.”
“Did you say something?” he mocked. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
He danced around me, snapping his fingers in my face. And then, he stopped.
He snapped his fingers a few times, and then right by his ear.
“I am deaf!” he shouted.

Thud

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Ricky had been shouting about sparkly unicorns and butterflies before his eyes crossed and he dropped like a stone.
For the next thirty years, we’d visit him in the hospital.
The nurses always cleaned him up nicely before visits.
We’d hold his hand, tell him that we missed him, and then ask him what he meant by unicorns and butterflies.
He never did wake up.
One day, we came to visit, and he wasn’t there.
Someone else was there.
So we started visiting them.
To tell you the truth, we liked them better than Ricky.
Ricky was such an asshole.

Tunnel

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I’ve been walking for hours, but I haven’t found the end of this tunnel.
The walls get narrow, then they get wide.
There’s some phosphorescent rocks and moss down here.
I can make my way around without being totally blind.
The floor’s slippery. I have to walk slowly or I’ll fall.
This map doesn’t say how far I need to go. It’s torn, and part of it is missing.
The part I’m in.
I have no idea where I am going, I should keep going until I find a way out.
Or, I could stay down here.
Maybe next time.

Volcano

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The tribal chief was perplexed by the crop failures and dwindling animal stocks.
“The only thing we have that’s worth anything is the volcano,” he said.
“Hey, let’s try sacrificing things in it,” I suggested.
Everybody agreed.
We started to sacrifice virgins in the volcano, but it turned out that the moment a virgin was selected, she’d bang the chief’s son.
So, we changed to animal sacrifices. Those, the chief’s son would steal from the offering pen to make a feast for all his girlfriends.
In the end, we sacrificed the chief’s son.
Kicking and screamed all the way down.

Foil

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Happy birthday, Oliver. Here’s your present.
What?
Oh, I never buy gift wrapping paper.
Instead, I use tinfoil.
It’s bright and shiny. And it’s actually cheaper than wrapping paper when you think about it.
Especially if you give out small presents and not all that often.
Instead of having wrapping paper for every occasional and holiday, the tinfoil serves all purposes.
Plus, when they unwrap their presents, they can wrap food in it and put it in the freezer.
Let’s see you try to do that with wrapping paper.
What? You did?
No wonder why these steaks are badly freezer-burned.

The Black Spot

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I dropped a can of root beer on my foot.
When I took off the shoe and sock, the middle toe was dark red.
No blood, just bruised.
A day later, the swelling went down.
But there was a black spot on the nail.
Over the past month, it’s been slowly growing out.
In another month or two, it will be at the edge, and I can clip it off.
As if it were never there.
All the while, the spot tells me to save it.
“Please cut off your toe,” it begs.
Every day, it gets louder. Desperate. Angrier.

Weekly Challenge #147 – Running With The Cool Kids

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Forty-Seven 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 Running With The Cool Kids.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best of Weekly Challenge #147?
Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com/
Daily Panic from http://adayonorbedge.blogspot.com/
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Daphne from http://daphneandtamara.libsyn.com/
Guy David from http://guydavid.com
Ashley
Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
Terrence from http://www.mcleanweb.ca/neverwas
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
Mike P. from http://mjpaxton.com
Michael S.
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


Caleb

In my rural high school the cool kids were all Jesus freaks but I couldn’t stop from asking, “if Jesus wanted to get his message to mankind, why’d it take hundreds of years to reach western Europe and another thousand to reach the new world? The cool kids just told me to shut it.
But when Shiva, The Destroyer, came to Monroe High wielding swords of flame to mow down the nonbelievers; I found myself running for my life with the cool kids.
Down to the Burger Shack. Gotta have one last bacon double cheeseburger before converting to Hinduism. OM

Daily Panic

In the fifth grade, he smoked cigarettes. He was the first guy to date a girl. All of his friends were cool; hanging with them just happened. We all rode our bicycles together in the neighborhood. By the eighth grade, the cool kids had older siblings that had driver’s license. From riding bikes to riding in cars, the cool kids went places. Boundaries pushed. We all felt bigger than life, rules or guidance.
Today grown up, those cool kids are still cool. We are parents, policemen, fire fighters, film makers, school teachers, coaches, and fifth grade smoker became a mayor.

Justin

When I was too young to remember, my parents took me to Nepal. A goat-herder found me wrapped in blankets, my parents outside the tent, dead from sickness. He took me in and raised me as his own. I was about seven when the village was slaughtered by raiders. I nearly died from exposure in the Himalayas, where I had fled when the village was ignited. I was rescued by a yeti. I was treated like an outcast for a while by the other yeti children, but before long I was playing with them like I was one of them.

Daphne

Susan spent the summer making herself over. She saved up enough money and got a new clothes, shoes and make-up. She spent her evenings trying on outfits until she got it just right. The first day of school was coming and she was ready for it. Well almost ready. Due to a freak storm it was 25 degrees and very icy on that day. Susan didn’t care she was wearing her outfit as is, no coat, no boots. The bus stop was cold and icy. She learned running with the cool kids can lead to frostbite and sprained ankles.

Guy David

I had to join the party, I mean, let’s face it… they had the best ice suits around. Their agenda didn’t matter. What mattered was their beautiful blue skins, the rolling popsicle hairs of the candidates. I just wanted to be one of them. I went through the ritual acceptance ceremony, then I was in, fitted with my very own shiny ice suit. I was in, then we got elected.
Later that year, after the country was ruined by the war I decided to drop my membership. The red devils where the new cool kids, so I joined them instead.

Ashley

“If you want to keep running with the cool kids, you’ll stop thinking and just throw it,” said Jake.
I closed my eyes and heaved, then ran for my life with the rest. Glancing back, I saw Jessica covered in eggs and weeping.
About twenty years later I looked her up to tell her I was sorry and that I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
She responded by offering compassion and, after awhile, her heart.
In high school I treated Jessica with scorn. If the fates allow, I will happily spend the rest of my life treating her like a queen.

Norval Joe

I was in high school in the late 70’s.
We had all the normal cliques; jocks, rah-rahs, burn outs, geeks, band freaks, drama fags, born agains, and student government.
There was some crossover; jocks in student government, burn outs in drama, and lots of geeks in the band. Whether you felt you were running with the cool kids or not, was mostly your own psychology.
There was one girl, named Janine, that was always alone; in class, at lunch and walking home.
I regret that I was too absorbed in my own psychology to make her welcome in our crowd.

Terrence

They all line up at the starting line. The boy stands in the first lane, ready for the gun to fire.
Bang!
The boy takes off, his legs pumping, ignoring the crashing and snapping sounds behind him as the finish line gets closer with each stride. His heart beats heavy and his shoes pound down into the ground. Sweat rolls down his face as he breaks the tape. Raising his arms in victory the boy yells out a cheer.
“I win!”
Looking back he sees the broken stick arms and snapped carrot noses. No snowman will ever out run him.

Tom

Jimmy was buck naked. He had just moved to Juno so badly wanted to fit in he was willing to join in the 1000 yard dash in the snow. Unfortunately for Jimmy and the other cool kids it was also the local wolf pack’s Run For Hungry 500 yard dash. The scene was like a arctic San Fermín. Fur and flesh snow and blood. Jimmy would have made it to the safety of the gym if only he had been able to get around Sarah Palin. Seem she’s a better shot from a plane then the ground. Too bad Jimmy.

Anima

Abe was stumped.
The Ball was his invitation into “polite society”, and he wanted to make a good first impression. Growing up in rural Kentucky, Abe had never “run with the cool kids”. Here it was Thursday, and he still hadn’t decided on a date for the weekend.
There was saucy Rebecca Stevens, with her fiery wit, or social Mary Todd, with a sweet temperament and a rich daddy.
Scratching the stubble on his chin, Abe reached into his pocket, pulled out a penny, and flicked it in the air.
“Heads it’s Mary, Tails, ‘Becca,” he said, smirking to himself.

Mike P.

In any social circle, you have to start at the bottom and work your
way up. It’s no different with the cool kids.
You have to start out working the water stops. For a while, you’re
doing nothing but filling cups with water and Gatorade.
After a year or so, you’re allowed to jog along with them and wipe
sweat off their foreheads.
Two or three years of that, and they’ll let you help them quick-change
into fresh running shorts (preventing chafing is key).
At that point, you’re no more than a decade from running with the cool kids.

Michael S.

I’ve always been a jogger and since I sweat in a snowball fight it stands to reason I’ve always been a sweater.
The older I get the more I sweat but I’ve noticed this young crowd doesn’t sweat a drop.
How do they do that?
I also noticed they invite me to jog with them.
It makes them look good and makes me look like I’m the only one really working on the task at hand.
Me ……….. I call it running with the cool kids.

Planet Z

Valentine’s Day in the embryo vault, buried below what’s left of the Antarctic frost.
There are nine redundant monitoring systems. When all nine find a fault, it is repaired. When one finds a fault or fails to find a fault with the others, it is repaired by the engineering robots.
We put these systems on a combination of solar and wind power. It runs on its own, keeping the children of the future cyrogenically protected from what their ancestors are doing to the present.
But in true short-sighted fashion, we have yet to build the revival and automated nanny systems.