When Santa isn’t supervising the work at his North Pole Workshop or delivering presents, he likes to take his sleigh around the world to enjoy natural scenery and beauty.
Men had cut tunnels through the Giant Sequoias of Yosemite, and only the best reindeer and pilot could fly through them at full speed.
But when drunk, Santa wasn’t at his best, and in February on 1969, he crashed into the Wawona Tree, bringing it down.
“The goddamned tree moved,” slurred a bloody Santa, stumbling through the wreckage, throwing an empty beer can aside and pulling the tab off of another.


The team had lost every game in the season.
For Christmas, all the coach wanted was a decent quarterback.
Santa, being a keen football fan, did his best to deliver some Christmas joy.
And on Christmas Day, when the coach woke up and went down to his living room, he saw a package under his tree.
The coach unwrapped the package to discover the Santa had left him a decent quarterback.
But the quarterback had suffocated from being wrapped in the wrapping paper.
The coach took the quarterback to the store, but they wouldn’t give an exchange without a receipt.

Superman on the naughty list

Superman walked north for miles and miles until he was far from civilization.
Pulling out the green glowing kryptonite crystal, he hurled it as far as he could.
It landed in the middle of Santa ‘s North Pole workshop village.
“What’s this?” said Santa, as the crystal melted through the snow.
A massive earthquake rumbled the village, spears of ice piercing every building.
Countless elves and reindeer were killed and maimed, toys scattered across the tundra as the Fortress of Solitude formed itself.
Santa rebuilt his workshop five miles away and put Superman on his naughty list in indelible ink.

Santa’s Mile High Club

When Santa wasn’t flying around the world delivering toys, he was flying around and banging expensive hookers.
“Wow!” they’d say, seeing the world rush by. “This is great!”
Some of them wanted to drink champagne, others wanted to do lines of coke.
“Do what you want,” growled Santa. “As long as you do me.”
And they did.
After zooming around skyscrapers and under bridges and through the Grand Canyon, Santa would fly out to the deep ocean and push the hooker out of his sleigh so he didn’t have to pay them or take them off of his naughty list.

Santa’s Keynote

Every year at the Santa Convention, the “Real Santa” delivers the keynote address.
It’s usually just the winner of The Best Santa Claus Contest giving advice on how to be a great Santa, or about some special Santa Moment he’d had.
But one year, it was the actual Santa Claus up there.
The real goddamned Santa.
He rambled for an hour about how cold it is up at The North Pole. And Reindeer.
“I eat a lot of reindeer meat,” he growled. “Elves taste lousy.”
Nobody believed that he was the real deal, and he was never invited back again.

Weekly Challenge #658 – Don’t I feel stupid…

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is the Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

We’ve got stories by:



#1 – Stupid?

Don’t I feel stupid? You’d think so, stood outside in the corridor while the rest of the class gets on with lessons; and I won’t feel stupid later in detention either.

I’m doing school on my own terms, and whilst all the other nerds and teachers’ pets are struggling with equations, grammar and historical facts, I’ll be chilling in the corridors and messing about after hours, inconveniencing the teachers and wasting their time.

I don’t feel stupid at all.

Just wait till I’m in my forties, with a minimum wage job, no prospects and no future…

Then I’ll feel stupid!

#2 – Breakdown

“That’s about the worst thing you can do”, laughed the mechanic. “Fill a diesel car with petrol, and it’s a complete drain and flush, and then prime the fuel system… Won’t be done until tomorrow!”

As he winched the car onto the flatbed, I was grateful for breakdown cover. I’d get a tow to my destination – a good four hundred miles down the road – and payment for a night in a hotel.

His last words as I jumped down from the truck: “Don’t you feel stupid?”


I wouldn’t be coming back for the car… It’s not mine!


No need to apply pain, I can do that unaided

Don’t I feel stupid is pretty much the title of the home movies I run in my head on an unending time loop. I know shouting out out loud “Oh fuck” is a kin to blatantly admitting I’m bad shit crazy, but I got a lot screw ups to revisit at the most inopportune times, and each one it verbally cringe worthy. But of late I have found a sort of talisman, a purifying mantra, that oddly enough abates my person furies. With little thought at all I just internally muse, “ALL DEAD.” Seems to work like a champ.


“Don’t!… I feel stupid”, you protested, as I dressed you up in my frilly underwear and scrawled ‘SLUT’ across your chest in bright red lipstick.

“Don’t be silly”, I murmured, “you said you wanted to try new things…”

I tied the blindfold, before slipping the noose around your neck, then waited until your struggles finally ceased, before scattering a handful of gay porn across the bed and heading back home.

You were found, next day, by the maid in that seedy hotel.

Death by sexual misadventure’ was the verdict.

‘The high life, by insurance payout’, made it all so worthwhile!


Billbert’s parents waited for him in the living room when he got back from the party.

He swallowed.

His mother was all smiles. “How was the party, dear? Did you have fun?”

“Sure. I’m going to bed,” he said.

“Wait, son.” His father said. “Who else was there?”

“Just me.”

“Did you play any games?” His mother asked.

“Just one. And then she kissed me,” Billbert admitted.

“Oh? Billbert’s got a girl friend,” his father teased.

Billbert crossed his arms and scowled. “Don’t! I feel stupid enough as it is.”

His mother hugged him and said, “I think you’ll survive.”


When Freddy doesn’t understand something, he’ll ask to slow things down a little.
I don’t see how slowing things down will make it easy for Freddy to understand.
If something is really complex, maybe he should be asking to dumb things down a little.
Or, in Freddy’s case, dumb things down a lot.
The problem is that there are some things too complicated to dumb down and simplify.
That’s when Freddy gets this glassy look on his face.
I’ve made the process of dumbing things down too complicated for him.
So, I stop, take a moment, and start again slower.

Sally’s Bad Day

Sally was born on Christmas, so she felt like she was cheated out of two days of presents.
She never had a big birthday party because all of her friends were out celebrating Christmas.
“We’re Jewish, Sally,” said her mother. “We don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“But my friends do,” said Sally. “So they can’t come to a party. I’m stuck here with you and dad, and it sucks.”
Sally’s parents sent her to her room without dinner.
They’d forgotten to get a cake, Sally’s mom was a lousy baker, and, anyway, all of the stores were closed for Christmas, so there.

Black Friday

The bigger the ads for Black Friday, the lamer the deals, and the bigger the fights over them.
It used to be a shopping rush for the first sales of the holidays.
Now, places mark up their prices or delay their discounts until the Friday after Thanksgiving.
Then came pre-Black Friday discounts, previews, early access, and so on.
A constant state of war erupted in the mall.
Meanwhile, employees snatched up the three laptops that were on sale, hidden under the counter while they kept telling customers: “Sorry, but we’re all out. Would you like to buy something else instead?”

Decisions, decisions

Doctor Odd always makes the right decision.
He also makes the wrong decisions.
He makes every decision imaginable, then he observes the consequences of each decision from his quantum state time displacement chair.
Once he determines the decision with best result, he stays in that timeline.
What happens to the other suboptimal timelines?
The Doctor Odd in those timelines try to shift quantum states into the “good” decision universe.
Because of a near-infinite number of quantum state universes, the “good” universe is overwhelmed quickly.
This is why Doctor Odd destroys the other universes, and his unlucky dopplegangers stranded in them.

Home is where the heart is

Home is where the heart is, but what if you’re Barney Clark, the first long-term human recipient of a mechanical heart pump?
Is it where your excised dead organ has been stored, awaiting your demise so you can be buried with it?
Or is it where your mechanical heart resides, in your chest.
Because if you look at the schematics of the Jarvik-7 model of mechanical heart, you’ll see a set of short cables and tubes connected to a base station.
Barney wasn’t going anywhere far any time soon.
Until, of course, he died, and then went to the cemetery.