Weekly Challenge #721 – LAPSE

Cat butt


Billbert’s mother pulled out of the McDonald’s drive through. The Ferarri pulled behind them from the curb and followed. As they got close to their home, Billbert said, “I think someone’s following us. Can you take a couple laps around the block?”
Continueing past their driveway, his mother asked, “Why would someone be following us?”
“Well, Marissa saw me fly away from the school, and she said she wants me to take her for a flight.”
“You flew away from the school? Did you have a lapse of reason?” she asked.
Billbert sighed. “It’s girls, mom. They make me crazy.”


I was lonelier than a heavy metal tuba player. I had to get out of the friend zone and to the erogenous zone and quick. I scooted closer as we Netflixed. Then a fillatio scene developed on the screen. S0, I stole a play from the Clinton playbook and I gave a playful nudge and a knowing head nod to the tv. My two hands jestering to my crotch. My simple daring stunt could only pay copious amounts of dividends, right? It didn’t. It was a lapse in judgement. I figured, what have I to lose? Apparently, just my dignity.


Nobody can maintain an illusion permanently. Sometime they’re bound to lapse back into their true character, revealing themselves as they really are.

Happens to us all.

This is why you find me, skipping gaily through a spring meadow, stopping to smell the blossoms, laughing at the new born lambs as they gambol and frolic, full of the joys of life.

And later? I’ll join some friends for an impromptu picnic, by a babbling brook…

Yeah right!

I shudder at the thought, and attend to sharpening my knives; whilst you hang, bloody and whimpering in the corner, awaiting your sordid fate.


From the Doctor’s point of view Maureen lapsed into a coma. From Maureen’s point of view she suddenly appeared in the happiest place she had ever known. A deep sense of rightness directed her to a brightly bobbling sphere in the center of her vision. As she approached the sphere receded. Braking into a full-out ran the sphere suddenly appeared directly in back of her. This went on for some time. This cat and mouse didn’t bother Maureen, it was more a game of tag. “What if I just stand still,” she mused. The sphere approached, surrounded. Then everything went black.



Sitting amongst the smouldering wreckage of my restaurant, I experienced a sudden moment of clarity.

This was not, as the insurers had concluded, the result of a lapse in following fire precautions – and therefore the only excuse they needed not to pay out.

Neither was it an unfortunate memory lapse in testing for flat batteries in the smoke detectors.

This was totally my fault.

It was me who thought I could outsmart the Mob; me, who purposely let the protection money payments lapse; me, that had brought this appalling retribution upon myself.

A tiny lapse of judgment. That’s all.


Who was that man, everyone wondered.
He wore a long coat and pulled around a big box with wheels. The box had a small window and the kids tried to look inside. That made him mad.
Who was that man, everyone thought.
One day, he walked into the water, small waves splashing on his ankles. He stood there for a long time, the box left unattended on the sand.
Then, something happened. The lid of the box opened but no one saw anything.
However, when she reached the water, she appeared. She smiled and swam away.
Who was that man…


It took thirty years for Dan Fisk to get his movie made.
The locations were all gone, bulldozed and turned into malls, parking lots, and condos.
All of the actors he’d cast were now either dead or too old to play their parts.
And de-aging technology can only do so much.
The female lead couldn’t perform gymnastics like she did in her prime at the Tokyo Games, let alone coach someone from that wheelchair.
So, he wrote a book about his agonizing, frustrating wait.
It was a best-seller.
Dan sold the movie rights.
Let someone else wait thirty years, right?

The next topic is HOT POTATO

Hi there. This is Laurence Simon of the 100 Word Stories Podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

Every week, I post a topic for the Weekly Challenge, where you come up with the stories and I collect them up and share them.

Want to give it a try? The topic of the next 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge is HOT POTATO

Write a 100 word story on that topic. Then, send it in an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE.

Also, suggest a topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges.

Do you have a website where people can learn more about you and your writing? Include the URL to that website.

Most importantly, include a recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience.

I put the episode together on Sunday morning. However, if you need more time, I can put your story up on the feed in a separate post.

Good luck, and as always… keep it brief.

JAN 5 crunch
JAN 12 fake
JAN 19 shark
JAN 26 PICK TWO: pulled from the water, quirk, pride, ploy, goof, exposed

FEB 2 hankering
FEB 9 lapse
FEB 16 hot potato
FEB 23 PICK TWO: contest, hop to it, toys, pain, treading water, protect

MAR 1 tinfoil
MAR 8 gate
MAR 15 gulf
MAR 22 device
MAR 29 PICK TWO: to hell with the critics, selfie, jute, impossible, do the needful, icon

APRIL 5 not
APRIL 12 dendrite
APRIL 19 sanitize
APRIL 26 PICK TWO: ecology, rash, aberration, plinth, mnemonic, wrought

MAY 3 chemistry
MAY 10 nobody gets out of here alive
MAY 17 empowered
MAY 24 illuminate
MAY 31 PICK TWO: null, smartphone, audio, alternative, hot, seek

JUN 7 We apologise for the inconvenience
JUN 14 mushroom
JUN 21 what’s that on the radar?
JUN 28 PICK TWO: mass, trade, headache, pick me, It’s not you it’s me,

JUL 5 cleave
JUL 12 soar
JUL 19 powder
JUL 26 PICK TWO: case, chewable, grasshopper, signals from outer space, here be monsters, deadly

AUG 2 who’s blood is that?
AUG 9 beans
AUG 16 traitor
AUG 23 pick a card… any card!
AUG 30 PICK TWO: removal, shopping, confused, tipsy, offer, early

SEP 6 camp
SEP 13 deploy
SEP 20 anchor
SEP 27 PICK TWO: indigo, anchor, shell, squeaky clean, jaw, amphibious

OCT 4 money
OCT 11 boxer
OCT 18 kitten
OCT 25 PICK TWO: piano, mongoose, tower, cartoon, evil, serve

NOV 1 revolution
NOV 8 plump
NOV 15 chainsaw
NOV 22 cluster
NOV 29 PICK TWO: reward, puppet, global, gear, shop, pit stop

DEC 6 still
DEC 13 pick one
DEC 20 fruitcake
DEC 27 PICK TWO: the hand that feeds you, scope, dresser, pit stop, quip, knave

Why is mother crying?
Get a life!
How does that grab you?
Spray Tan
A toast!

Growing Through Cobblestones

Blades of grass
Growing through cobblestones.
We pull up the stones
And then the grass.
We find the wet side of the stone
And press it back into place
How can it be
That the stones fit before
But they resist their return?
Does the street breathe?
Do the stones
Freed of their bonds
Stretch and expand?
We press each stone back into place
By hand
Or pressing rod
Never with a hammer’s blow
Because we do not want
To shatter a stone
And have to find a replacement
Which fits
Better than the stone
Which fit just fine before

Ted Cruz

What’s the difference between a sore loser and someone who stands by principles, no matter what?
I’ve got to agree with Ted Cruz on refusing to endorse the man who mocked his wife and his faith.
The concept of “party unity” after a modern mudslinging primary process is inherently dishonest.
On the same hand, Bernie Sanders claiming to be principled is a joke, too.
He is an Independent in the Senate, but ran as a Democrat.
That’s not principle. That’s opportunism.
I hold my nose, and instead of voting, I kick over the booth.
May they all burn in Hell.

You can’t always

The Rolling Stones say that you can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need.
This is coming from a band that has always gotten what it wants for over fifty years.
Pussy. Booze. Drugs. Midget clowns on fire.
Whatever the hell they want, they get it.
If it doesn’t exist, someone invents it on the spot.
Even the drummer, Charlie Watts, gets whatever the hell he wants.
The fucking drummer!
No other drummer in any other band gets what they want.
Such arrogance. What they need is a smack in the mouth.

The Dancer Dances

Whenever the Moscow Ballet performed in New York, security services told the dancers that if they defected, they would never see their families again.
This didn’t bother Irina. She’d be escaping her wicked Uncle Vanya.
So, she didn’t mind that threat at all, and she escaped through a bathroom window at the theater.
“I defect!” she shouted at the cameras.
The Russians raised a stink, but Irina got her way.
She joined the New York City Ballet, and settled in with a foster family.
Until one day, The Russians sent a gift:
“Hello, pretty,” said Uncle Vanya. “Dance for me.”

If he had

If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would call him a martyr.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would dedicate a monument to him.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would paying his family a thousand dollars, your tax dollars, to his family as a reward. Every month.
If Mohamed Bouhlel had run over Jews in Jerusalem, Mahmoud Abbas would encourage children to follow his example.
But Mohamed Bouhlel ran over people in Nice, so Mahmoud Abbas condemned him.
How noble of that terrorist bastard, right?

The City of Hate

They call Dallas the City of Hate.
After Kennedy was shot and killed there.
Is that the metric for hate?
Shooting presidents?
Well, in that case, a president was murdered in Buffalo.
McKinley, right?
Why is that not the City of Hate?
McKinley was shot just as dead as Kennedy, right?
And what about Washington DC?
Two presidents were shot and killed there.
Lincoln and Garfield.
Several more shot at.
Jackson, Reagan, and Ford.
Anybody else? Am I missing someone?
Washington DC, by far, earns the City of Hate title.
Not that the others are all that loving, mind you.

Weekly Challenge #720 – HANKERING



Going back, that’s all she thought about, going back and sitting on that bench under the pergola, under the sky, close to her dreams…
She used to have dreams. She used to sit there and smile, looking up and enjoying the colors of the sunset. She used to think life was whatever she wanted it to be.
She was far away now, so far away, too far away. She looked at the sky but the colors weren’t the same. She wondered if the bench was still there.
Then, she heard the sirens. It was time to move… and hide… again.


PICK TWO: quirk, pride, exposed
The querkleyhew (Querculus arrigiosus) is the pride of the tree-lined avenues of London. It sheds its boughs wherever they extend more than a few yards from the trunk, and at a certain height, the upthrusting members terminate themselves similarly. The exposed wounds heal into lumpy nodules exuding resins harvested for incense. In former times they were also, following the mediaeval doctrine of signatures, favoured as a salve for amputees. Every spring, clusters of thin shoots sprout from these terminations, which would be woven into charms against wounds in battle.

The uninformed mistake this curious habit of growth for over-zealous pruning.

The First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang, hankered after immortality. He sent out explorers to discover the secret. Some stopped in comfortable towns, and wrote back long missives describing their fictitious efforts. From these sprang the myths and legends of China. Others travelled, but only to explore the far-flung provinces. From these we have the great works of geography. A few took the mission seriously, enquiring of alchemists, magicians, and sages, but obtained only hints with which to search further.

Only one succeeded. But he kept the secret for himself alone, and it is said that he lives among us still.



Henry is not the sharpest tool in the box. His heart’s in the right place, but he’s still hopeless, even so, he’s a nice guy – just don’t trust him with anything important.

That’s why everyone was so shocked when I asked him to be my Best Man.

“You know he’ll lose the ring… Go to the wrong church… Turn up late… Think its fancy dress?” – Everyone warned me off, and tol me to pick someone else.

But, would I listen?

Too late, I realised, as he stood smiling gormlessly at the altar.

I tried again…

“Hank! Er… ring?”


I’m not academic. I’m not one for grammar, phrasing, or worrying about sentence construction. Those are all very well if that’s your style, but I’ve no interest in semantics or word games.

As far as I’m concerned, good old fashioned plain speech is more than sufficient for most occasions, although I’ll admit sometimes my vocabulary lets me down.

Like now, I have a hankering… But that’s not the word. It really doesn’t convey what I really feel inside. And you’re sitting there, humouring me, smiling indulgently.

You shouldn’t.

I’ve just remembered the word for the feeling I have…

It’s bloodlust!


I got a Hankering

When you’re old and have spent the better part of your life eating in restaurants you got to balance dinning out with dinning in with the reality of a fixed income. To that end I and my partners and crime have decided on Taco Tuesday. Yup I got a hankering for tacos and Taco Bell allow a more than generous supply of Taconess. Some may even during the listening of this tale, poo poo the quality of Taco Bell food. Or the lack of Je ne sais quoi. There t-a-c-o-s not Japanese A5 Wagyu Striploin Demi-glace served at the French Laundry


The dust covered cowboy makes his way into the saloon. Weaving his way through the tables, cattlemen and soiled doves, to the bar.

“What brings you to town, friend,” asked the bartender?

“I got a hankering for Whiskey, Neat. And I ain’t your friend…friend.”

The bartenders grin fades away as he reaches under for the loaded 45 and sizes up the cowboy. Searching the stranger’s grimy face for clues to his intent.

“You best come up with a whisky bottle. Friend. You want no trouble from me. Understand?”

The bartender snatches the bottle and pours the stranger a drink.


Billbert climbed into his mother’s car, looking behind them to see if Marissa was really following. The Ferrari kept pace behind their car.
“Mom. Can we stop at McDonald’s before we get home? I have a hankering for a cheeseburger.”
His mother slowed the car so she could safely stare at her son. “You have a what?”
He cleared his throat. “A hankering. You know, a persistent urge or desire.”
“I know the word. I’m just wondering why you’re using it.”
Billbert shrugged. “I don’t know. Something prompted me.”
She shook her head. “Whatever. You can’t argue with real hankering.”


Work provides a catered lunch.
It’s not some fancy affair with chafing dishes and silverware.
It’s just large orders from local restaurants in a family-style buffet line.
The office assistants rotate the schedule of caterers.
Some are good, some are bad, some are awful.
Some forget things, and others are frequently late to arrive.
I look at the calendar and plan out the lunches I will eat.
And the ones I choose to order soup from the deli.
Of course, if there’s any leftover buffet salad, I’ll pack that for home.
Can’t let good food go to waste, you know.

Uber Dragons

Back in the old days, if you wanted to ride a dragon into battle, you had to hatch a dragon’s egg, train it, feed it, and house it.
Now, thanks to Uber, all you need is to call for a dragon, and one will arrive.
Sure, you can pay for options, such as flame breath or extra large size, but they’re usually just for show.
You’re only supposed to ride the dragon to battle and then get dropped off.
If you survive, you can hail another dragon.
Don’t forget that battles will increase dragon demand, so prepare for surge pricing.