The Feeding

639161

With horror bubbling in her throat, Lisa ran a finger along the last wrinkle in her face.
“One more child should do it,” she told her servants. “Not too young. I do not want to overfeed.”
That night, in a burlap sack, they dragged a peasant boy up from the village into Blackmoor Manor.
“Still alive. Good,” said Lisa. “Lock the door. No visitors.”
As Lisa cleansed the ritual knife, the angry mob made its way up the stone path to the manor.
Looking at the pitchforks and torches, her servants decided they were no visitors, and made their escape.

Lousy Servant

990713

I expect my tea to be placed by my bedside at precisely 8 in the morning.
Any earlier, and it will be cold when I drink it.
Any later, and it will not be there when I reach for it.
Instead, I will reach for my sonic whip and you will suffer dearly.
It used to be that the Blahva made good servants, but we’ve bred them to be stupid while breeding out rebellion and independence.
“Shave your matted fur,” I growl to my houseboy. “And show some initiative.”
He licks an eye, shivers with fear, and gleeps assent.
Liar.

Racks

634296

How did I wind up in the hospital?
It’s simple. I got my wine rack and gun rack mixed up again.
Going deer hunting with Merlot isn’t so bad. Merlot goes nicely with venison.
However, trying to open a loaded rifle with a corkscrew is not a good thing.
The doctors say they can save most of the fingers on my left hand.
This will seriously curtail my hunting for a while, but at least they sell automatic corkscrews.
I just need to make sure I’m opening bottles of wine with it instead of trying to open the rifle again.

Was A Rabbit

639162

A cop fireman-carried the lifeless body into the morgue.
The cause of his death is listed as “Basketball.”
Every so often, the coroner gets bored with Heart Disease and Cancer, so she cuts loose a little with the weirder cases.
“Old man died while playing ball with some kids,” said the cop.
“We all gotta go sometime,” said the coroner.
“I guess so,” said the cop. “Do you have the money?”
“I need another week,” said the coroner.
The cop shot the coroner twice in the head, put the gun in the old man’s hand, and walked out the door.

Spaceship

639159

Last night, a spaceship fell from the sky and landed on my driveway.
A small green man climbed out a hatch, waved hello, and asked me if he could borrow my tools.
At least I thought that was what he was asking.
“Sure,” I said. “Do you need English or Metric?”
The alien shrugged. “Grobnick blasdo,” he said, and he grabbed a few things from the garage before working on his engine.
It took him an hour before the ship was pulsing a greenish glow.
“Grobnick bladso,” he said, waved, and flew off into space.
Little fucker stole my tools.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln #99

882598

Abe lay back in his coffin and thought.
Johnson should be kicking out Mary Todd and Tad just about now.
I’m not even cold yet.
Bastard.
He’ll probably command the Army to freeze over the lawn for a skating rink. Andy loved skating, and it didn’t matter if it was a hundred below or a hundred above.
I loved skating.
Or perhaps he’d pull a Gotcha on the slaves and enslave them again.
Abe felt angry. He tried to get up.
Oh, wait. Hold on. Um…
I’m dead, he thought.
Ouch.
This is sure going to mess up my ice-skating.

Weekly Challenge #144 – Chicken Nuggets

11732710

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Forty-Four 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 Chicken Nuggets
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Weekly Challenge #144 – Chicken Nuggets
Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
Johnnie B.
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Michael
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com/
Guy David from http://guydavid.com
Ashley
Almo
Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com
Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


Anima

Marge drummed her fingers impatiently, leaving greasy splotches on the table, but Marlon wouldn’t be rushed. Her tell was so obvious.
The illicit card game at the Big House Spa happens right after visitation… while the sacks are still hot.
If Marlon played his hand right, he might still turn his fast food Mexican into a decent meal.
Typically the game was small fries, but tonight… Al had ponied up big steaks… Everybody was salivating…
Marlon visualized Lady Luck passing the salt;
“I’ll see your chicken nuggets, and raise you a chalupa… Yeah, baby! Super size me!

Johnnie B.

Tiny, long things are gripping me, wrapping around me with intensity. I”m hot, I”m delicious! I go down into the red abyss, under, and back up. I think of the pleasure I am about to give.
I see the dark opening with a long pink thing inside it. As the pink thing loops itself around me I am immersed in something wet. This is what I was made for! I am sucked in and find myself being torn apart, bit by bit. This is my destiny……..I am the first chicken nugget in little Timmy”s lunch today!

Justin

I sought great wealth by traveling the Feather Trail. Many died in the California Gallus Rush, and for a reason no greater than greed. Boom towns sprung up drawing thousands of people. I prospected with the best of them, and the worst of them. Prospectors killed each other for a single chicken nugget found while panning. Miners died in deep caves searching for cracked eggs. When the Bird Flu struck, entire towns vanished overnight, the inhabitants leaving broken and destitute. I played my cards carefully and am still wealthy, my California Dream Poultry Restaurant’s are doing very well.

Michael

“There are things we must all be concerned with,” spoke the rooster with his cocky attitude.
“I call these my little chicken nuggets of wisdom.”
“It would behoove all of you to store them under your comb.”
The hens in both wings of the barnyard grew attentive as the cock crowed on.
It was so quiet you could hear a feather drop.
“Beware the shadow of big birds.”
“Take flight at the sight of an ax.”
“Finally, remember the white part in our droppings is still chickenshit. Don’t eat it.”

Tom

Lot people thought Einstein was pretty smart. What ya didn’t know was he got a lot of his best ideas from Ralph. Yes Ralph was full of chicken nuggets of wisdom. Einstein took that chicken everywhere On the bus he’d clucked faster faster which as we know led to the theory of special relativity. In fact it was Ralph who managed to scratch in the dirt the secrete name of god, which is stamp on the outer ball of all nuclear devices to initiation critical mass. Niels Bohr was never able to convince Ralph of the merits of scientific determinism.

Caleb

Love is strange. I suppose I don’t have to tell you that but it’s true. So are computers. Tried that computer dating one time. Hooked me up with a woman who could only achieve sexual gratification while listening to Beethoven’s Ode To Joy, which is weird because I can only get off listening to Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. They matched us because we loved German composers so much I guess. We lived together for 14 years, drove all the neighbors crazy with our cacophony of love. She’s gone now. Choked on a chicken nugget, music’s all I have left.

Guy

He was going to get all serious about his writing. He knew he could do it, even if it was only a 100 words story. He knew he could pull this off. Nothing could stand in the way of a decisive, dedicated writer. He rubbed his hands together and smiled in satisfaction. It was time to get to work and write. He opened his web browser and checked out this week’s topic. He stared at the screen for a few seconds. Chicken Nuggets. The topic glared back at him, shaking it’s head and laughing. “Thank you, Norval Joe,” he mattered.

Ashley

Tory and Tasha were waiting when Brian translated back into the contextual time-frame of 2357.
“This trip was unauthorized,” said Tory.
Brian held out a bag and said, “I tried these on an earlier mission. They’re organic, not the reconstituted goo we’re forced to eat.”
Both removed a piece and popped them into their mouths.
A look of wonder overcame each as they chewed.
“They’re called chicken nuggets,” said Brian.
Tory and Tasha said together, “We’re going back.”
Brian watched as his coworkers translated back to 2009, equipped with awesome technology at their disposal and chicken nuggets on their minds.

Almo

A smaller version of the Geneva convention was held outside Arthur Miller Middle School on a Thursday afternoon. It was a brief affair — the buses were coming and no one wanted to have to call his parents to tell them he missed the bus.
“Jujubes?” Jimmy asked.
“In,” said Tommy. “You get like a gazillion of them in a box and you can keep them for weeks.”
The others agreed.
“Chicken Nuggets?” Sarah asked, looking over Jimmy’s shoulder at his checklist.
“Out,” was the resounding chorus.
“They leave grease spots,” Tommy said.
The rules laid down, the date set, the middle school food fight was on.

Jeffrey

The sun belched forth all it’s furry. Sending tons of solar material into space, hurtling toward the Earth. In only a couple of hours the face of the third planet from the sun would feel it’s wrath.
The charged particles raced along, power transmission lines frying everything in there way. The Sad thing was that redundant systems that make the power grid safer on any other day, had cause black outs to ten times the area than normal. The burned out power systems stopped everything from the chicken Nugget fryers to the water pumps so you can flush your toilet.

Norval Joe

My name is Desmond.
I’m four years old and I look like a normal kid.
I have autism.
People say I have beautiful eyes.
My favorite things to do are; run, jump, climb stairs and make lots of noise.
I like to eat chicken nuggets, dinosaur shapes, Triceratops, longnecks, and petri.
I was three years old before I could say 100 different words.
Sometimes when I scream or have a fit at the grocery store, people look at me like I
am being bad. I’m not bad, just loud. Please have patience.
My family loves me.
I love them too.

Planet Z

It’s Eighteen Forty-nine.
Gold fever, they called it.
Every inch of river was panned, every corner of the mountain dug up and sifted through.
You went to sleep, dreaming of that golden nugget the size of your fist.
You wake up, and your pickaxe and gloves are gone.
Maybe your boots, too.
Even if you do strike gold, it doesn’t go far.
Every provisioner charges crazy prices for everything.
Eggs don’t make themselves, and the man with the chickens is the one with the real gold mine.
All us out here in the dirt and outdoors, killing each other.
Fools.

Remix

639155

It’s fun to mess with memory tapes.
I reversed Johnny’s timestamps and he spent weeks sucking his thumb and shitting his pants while the reindex ran.
Dell hasn’t stopped speaking in French, despite restoring his mind from an old directory.
Tracy and Thomas woke up Thomas and Tracy. They didn’t know each other before I swapped their nodes. Now, well, a little better.
Oliver was supposed to be a remix. I had a great set of financials and old movies spliced into his mind. Instead, he became Corrupted.
This is a picture of Oliver. Find him.
Before he kills again.

Caricature

638694

The revolting, hook-nosed caricature loaded his grocery cart with every discount Kosher food he could.
When finished gathering food for tonight’s blood rituals, he haggled with the young lady at the checkout counter, protesting every penny.
She kept sweeping every item over the scanner. Beep. Beep.
“Want paper or plastic?” the bagboy asked.
“So hard a decision,” said the caricature. “Does the plastic come from petroleum stolen from Arab holy lands? Does the paper come recycled from shredded and defiled Korans?”
The girl stopped scanning the items and the bagboy stared into empty space.
There was nobody there.
Never was.

The Peace Hunt

639164

It was an awesome peace concert in the park, and at the end, we opened the cages that released the doves.
Majestically flying into the air, a cloud of white wings upon the air.
That’s when the hawks came.
Doves became puffs of white feathers as the raptors hit them with their talons and flew off with their prey.
Bloody chunks falling on the crowd, the remnants of collisions raining down.
Everybody staring at the hunt, unable to move.
“This is a disaster,” whispered the concert promoter.
“No, it’s not. It’s totally natural,” said the lead singer. “It’s fuckin’ beautiful.”