The commander didn’t just shout his callsign but screamed it ANGEL FIVE ANGEL FIVE before the radio cut out and his fighter dropped from the formation trailing smoke and fire and another fighter took his place at the lead before he took on heavy fire and followed the commander to his death so the rest broke formation and fired at anything they could see but at night with no moon and mountains on their first mission after training sent fighter after fighter into a tailspin trailing smoke and crashing into the mountains with not a single parachute to be seen.
Every time I fly somewhere, I load up my phone with podcasts such as Stuff You Should Know or Gilbert Gottfried’s Amazing Colossal Podcast.
They’re long, good, and interesting. And they chew up a lot of time pretty well.
I used to rely on the Apple Podcasts application, but it wasn’t good at retaining podcasts in its cache, and I would be left with an empty phone on a long flight.
So, I switched to Stitcher and I migrated subscriptions over to it.
It’s been working reliably for me ever since.
The plane I’m on, sadly, isn’t.
MAYDAY! MAYDAY! MAYDAY!
My brother buried me in the snow.
I was six, he was eight or nine.
He whacked me over the head with a snow shovel, dug a hole, and pushed me into it.
Then he covered me up with snow.
Thing is, I deserved it.
I had buried his rare metal toy soldier collection in the snow.
He whacked me on the head after I tried to find where I’d buried them, but I’d covered my tracks too well.
“We’ll find them when it thaws in the Spring, right?” I said.
That’s when he whacked me harder and buried me.
The herb expert always had a suggestion and a word of advice.
“And to lose weight?”
Herbs. He took them all.
And then the cramps, the headache, the nausea, the vomiting.
He went to hospital.
“What did you take?”
“This and that,” he replied uneasy, “this and that.”
When he got home, he took some more. He wanted to be elegant and fit into those tight jeans he bought by mistake.
More cramps, more headaches. The nausea, oh, the nausea.
Herbs for this, herbs for that. Enough.
“Fuck the jeans,” he cried out loud. “Fuck the expert. I like plump!”
“Does my butt look big in this?” She asked, straining to peer over her shoulder at the mirror.
I tried being tactful.
“Well, perhaps a little, erm… Plump, maybe? Nobody is going to comment about it though.”
I may as well have told her she resembled a zeppelin, judging by the response I got.
“I just want to look good for my first day on the job”, she complained.
I reassured her: “You look absolutely perfect, and I can guarantee that, no matter how slim someone might be… Nobody ever looks their best when they’re wearing a bomb disposal suit!”
It’s a myth that witches who live in the woods steal children to fatten up and eat.
I never enjoyed my children plump – far too fatty and greasy for my liking. I much prefer them to be thin and lean.
They also produce the best kiddy bacon: Hang them up to mature for a few weeks, then slice them thinly and fry until crispy. You can’t beat it, sandwiched between two thick slices of fresh bread, with plenty of butter!
The trouble is, with all this good eating, it’s us witches who end up too plump for our own good!
The old man sat on the porch, full concentration on small piece of pine. Through the corner of his eye he saw Billy making his way down the dirt road, dust flying up from his feet dragging stroll. “Hey Billy.” Said Ven. “Hey Ven,” said Billy. “Where ya go-n?” “Water Hole.” Billy had a black bamboo rod over the shoulder, a near picture prefect posture of the first card of the Major Arcana. That would be card number zero to those not Arcanaicly inclined. “Go-n fish-n.” Ven slowly shook his head. “Son I think you’re plump out of luck on that one.”
Dergle’s weiner dog began to growl from his hiding place in his plump owner’s overcoat.
Billbert cleared his throat. “Thank you, Mr. Vander Hoont, for speaking on my behalf, but, I know my rights. I don’t have to go anywhere with these jokers. Not without my parent’s approval. I came here with the Withybottoms and I’m going to wait here until Linoliamanda comes back out.”
One of the agents took Billbert by the arm. “Like it or not, you’re coming with us.” He marched Billbert toward the door.
A car pulled up to the ER and Billbert’s mother got out.
In my young days, I was a stand-up comedian. I’d rant on the stage in seedy underground bars, and if I spotted some plump, middle-aged, middle-class git in the audience I’d let rip at them until they left in tears. There’s nothing like it. You can keep your cocaine and heroin, hate is the best drug there is.
Then I got spotted for TV, got my own show, raked in the money, and here I am, a plump middle-aged git myself.
You think that changes anything? I just hate on the young skinny gits who think they’re proper stand-up comedians.
Let me tell you something … A lot of guys go all crazy for them skinny little girls got no meat on them, no curves, straight lines, all the way from their chins to their ankles! Padded shoulders, padded bras, high heels … All give the illusion of curves where there ain’t none.
A big girl got curves … Girl curves!
A big girl can cook … Serves up a plate proper!
Big piles … tasty stuff!
When things get close … Hip bone to hip bone kinda hurts … I like a little cushion for the pushin.
If you don’t believe me now … You will someday.
Ballpark Franks are probably the worst branded hot dogs at the store.
They taste absolutely bland. Barely any meat or protein in them.
You could almost call them Vegan.
And their marketing slogan is revolting: They plump when you cook them.
Just to let you know that the cereal fillers expand when cooked.
They also plump when you leave them out on the counter.
Not only do the cereal fillers expand in the moist air, but the miniscule meat content will putrefy and bloat.
Until they eventually explode from the casings.
I wouldn’t even feed these things to an animal.
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 CHAINSAW
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: a new beginning, library, Ireland, storyteller, friends, home
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
JAN 3 Fire
JAN 10 Why is mother crying?
JAN 17 Get a life!
JAN 24 How does that grab you?
JAN 31 Prowling, Canon, Everything, To/Too/Two, Risk, Delinquent, Spray Tan
FEB 7 Smalltalk
FEB 14 Pizza
FEB 21 Wine
FAN 28 Ruins, Cone, A toast!, Rebel, Dive, Name change, Glow
MAR 7 Tilting
MAR 14 Behind a bush
MAR 21 Unlimited
MAR 28 Remember only this…, Scope, Church, Melt, Fade, Bare
APR 4 River crossing
APR 11 Advanced
APR 18 Saint
APR 25 Fuming, Bean, When will it stop raining, Vaccine, Quarrantine, Helmet, Tin
MAY 2 List
MAY 9 Stay safe
MAY 16 Don’t press the button!
MAY 23 Hand
MAY 30 Address, Blundering buffoon, Bunny, View, Wizard, What’s that on the horizon?, Bark
JUN 6 Trade
JUN 13 Riding shotgun
JUN 20 Prompt
JUN 27 Crystalline, Copper, Outbreak, Demure, Paper thin, Bonus, Bleach
JUL 4 So many questions
JUL 11 Needle
JUL 18 Letter
JUL 25 Can you help me?, Enough, Market, Trial, Bundle, The noise is driving me mad!, Inventory
AUG 1 Discard
AUG 8 Misnomer
AUG 15 If I had a nickle for every time
AUG 22 Where do I begin?
AUG 29 Full, Where did they go?, Barrel, Your call, Universally, Joint, Some might say…
SEP 5 Doubtful
SEP 12 Over to you…
SEP 19 The heat of the moment
SEP 26 Craft, Ceremoniously, Empty spaces, Clickbait, Disposal protocol, You saved my life, Level
OCT 3 Binge
OCT 10 After
OCT 17 Disintegration
OCT 24 …Since records began
OCT 31 Vase, Rub, Top, Spring fresh, Chime, The End, Crop
NOV 7 Unsure
NOV 14 Arson
NOV 21 What’s that on your face?
NOV 28 Square, Unexpected message, Formation, The door flew open, Fret, Prediction, Jelly fish
DEC 5 Bee
DEC 12 Store
DEC 19 Left
DEC 26 Don’t push me…, Animated, Compassion, Indifferent, Ally, Whale, A fork in the road
THE REST OF THE TOPICS
Fight fire with fire
A thin veneer
I was very young
Are we there yet?
I’ll be there
Too much to bear
The sweet smell of success
Every good intention
Thousands of years
The radio station held a contest.
Ten men sat up on a billboard and the last one up there would win a million dollars.
One by one, they came down until it was down to two men.
And that’s when the fight happened.
The whole town, watching the two men wrestle on the ledge of a billboard.
They threw punches and kicks and beat each other with their latrine buckets.
Both men fell from the ledge and struck the ground, dead.
The station split the prize in half, paid off the next of kin, and never ran a contest again.
Once upon a time, back in the days of gods and monsters, Silas the Rock God lost his smile.
“Go!” shouted the Reverend Sasquatch. “Find the Rock God’s smile!”
His worshipers searched far and wide for it, but it was nowhere to be found.
“We must make him a new one!” shouted the reverend.
No dentist was worthy of the Rock God, so a blacksmith was called upon to forge a new smile from the finest steel.
“Here,” whispered the exhausted blacksmith, handing over the appliance.
The Rock God put it in his mouth, picked up his guitar, and grinned.
I once knew a crazy man who rode a motor scooter from a Greek island to Scotland.
He came down with cancer, and he figured that he could claim Scottish citizenship from his ancestry and get free medical care.
He sold everything, including his custom-made boots, bought the scooter, and made his way across Europe in flip-flops and jeans.
He posted photos of the beautiful scenery and his progressively-worsening toes, all bloody and sore from road debris.
Eventually, he got to Scotland, became a citizen, and was cured.
Until the he relapsed three years later and the cancer killed him.
Black lipstick, black eyeshadow.
Black dye in her hair.
Everything she wore was black.
She looked good in black.
She even wore black to her three weddings.
And the three funerals for her late husbands.
Her furniture was white, with white wall-to-wall carpet.
She stood out like a burnt pixel on a television screen, a clot of hair in a bathtub.
She took three black betties and went to sleep.
The next day. I found her in the tub.
The coroner came and laid a white sheet over her.
“No,” I said. “Zip her up in a black body bag.”
daylight savings time
to a cat?
a happy cat
a cat has
a sleep time
a drink time
a sleep time
a lay in the sun time
a poop time
a sleep time
an eat time
a sleep time
and claw things time
oh and more
a sleep time
you have so many times
too many times
not enough time
for all your times
be more like cat
you lay in the sun
you claw things
just do that
and you will be
happy like cat