Patsy the lemonade kingpin

Patsy set up a lemonade stand next to her school.
The company that had the contract for the school’s vending machines demanded action.
“It’s just a girl and a lemonade stand,” said the principal.
The company’s attorney displayed district sales charts on her laptop. “This one in red is yours. Sales are down seventy percent.”
The school administration refused to shut Vicky down, so the company sued for breach of contract.
Patsy cried in court, and the jury sided with her.
The vending company pulled out of the district, and Patsy’s father, a rival soda vending supplier, grinned with delight.

Weekly Challenge #783 – Saint




So, we had this box, which we kept in the crypt and wheeled out for holy days and special occasions. It was fashioned from cedar wood, with polished brass fittings.

It was only a small box, but it held the sacred relic that so many flocked to the church to behold.

The saint’s little finger.

Some say just kissing the box would heal the sick, and simply beholding it guaranteed good fortune.

As for me, I didn’t believe a word of it.

I just looked after the thing and polished the brass.

Oh, and used it for storing my smokes.


Saint Gasceous, the patron saint of grandfathers.

Coming from humble beginnings he rose to fame, mostly with his grandchildren, by being able to play “pull my finger” on cue. It was one of several documented miracles that led to his canonization. Another was talking with his dentures sticking halfway out of his mouth. His most notable miracle was the nearly three minute “drive by” he could do while walking around the garden. None of these could be be successfully explained by science alone.

To his grandchildren he is remembered for how they always reacted. That is the miracle of laughter.


“The Impossible Missions Group needs my help,” Simon Templar informed his girlfriend Patricia, kissing her lightly on the nose. “See you in a few days.”

He drove across Europe, penetrated the Iron Curtain, and infiltrated the target of the Soviet death ray demonstration. It was being faked, with a bomb to be secretly triggered. The Saint disabled the arming mechanism.

A general with a chestful of medals pressed the firing button before the international press. Beams of lightning coruscated toward the horizon, and then… nothing.

Their subsequent investigation found only a calling card showing a stick figure with a halo.

Saint Custard’s is an old-fashioned sort of establishment.

Here, we take young girls, educate them and shape their lives, and prepare them to face the world outside.

We cherish the values of old, and encourage our charges to shun technology and modern wisdom in favour of respecting the natural order of things and Mother Nature.

It may be considered quaint by some, but I think our girls are a credit to tradition.

Then, in their senior years, they learn to harness the forces of darkness, breed chaos and undermine male dominance.

Like I said: The natural order of things.


Ah, the photo of his old bedroom. He couldn’t help but smile. It was there he had taken the first steps towards his amazing career in computers, full of hope and dreams, overshadowing his big sister’s remarkable career as a Professor.
Behind the bookshelf, that’s where he hid it.
Years later, he went back to fetch it. Gone.
When the cops knocked at his door, he knew the governments of those countries weren’t happy with him.
The little code-book… They had it. But how??
Sitting in his cold cell, he tried to figure it out, his sister’s sneer haunting him.


Saint to the right of me Saint to the left, stuck in the middle with Hue.

There’s a tradition in my family that goes back nearly a millennium and a
half. In each generation one child is named Denis. Seem my family were
original converts from pagan roman Paris to Christianity. In the crypts
of Basilica Saint-Denis buried alongside the Kings of France are my kin.
Oddly when I flew into Paris many years ago, after clearing customs I was
direct to an office of the Paris Bishopric. A priest there gave me a
brass container will the seal of Saint Denis. I ask what I should do with
it. Wait for the moment. He said.


Patron saints are an interesting study. They cover technologies and concepts that didn’t exist in their lifetimes, and there’s some seriously specific division of labor.

Let’s look at flying. Air travelers and astronauts are all covered by Joseph of Cupertino. However, if you’re the pilot, that’s Christopher’s domain. (If you’re flying the space shuttle, maybe both? Or flip a coin?) Now, if the aircraft doesn’t have any engines, Clare of Assisi has your gliding butt. For the flight attendants serving the air travelers, they pray to Bona of Pisa. Paratroopers jumping out of the planes, Archangel Michael’s got their backs.


Mr. Withybottom turned on Billbert. “So. You just want to be friends with my daughter, do you?”
“Well, yeah,” Billbert said, surprised at the heat in the man’s voice. “We are in some classes together at school.”
Mr. Withybottom shook his finger at Billbert. “Look. I know I was no saint when I was your age. I know what goes through the minds of boys when they talk about being friends with girls. I don’t want any hanky-panky between you two.”
Billbert thought back on his few kisses with Linoliamanda. If someone had hanky-panky on their mind, it wasn’t him.


It’s interesting to track down the relics of ancient saints.
The fingerbone of this saint, the tooth of that saint.
All believed to be the source of all kinds of miracles.
So many people flock to see these bits and pieces.
It’s good for the local businesses.
Thing is, if you do the math, you’ll find this saint has five thighbones, that saint had forty-nine teeth, and so on.
Unless you’re talking about Saint Mergatroyd of Essex.
He actually had five thighbones, forty-nine feeth, and countless other duplicate body parts.
He was martyred in a nuclear waste facility, after all.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is PICK TWO Fuming, Bean, When will it stop raining, Vaccine, Quarantine, Helmet, Tin

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

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 PICK TWO Fuming, Bean, When will it stop raining, Vaccine, Quarantine, Helmet, Tin

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

Include the following:

  • The text of your story.
  • A topic or topics for future Weekly Challenges.
  • A website where people can learn more about you and your writing, include the URL to that website.
  • A recording of your story. Be sure to introduce yourself to the audience.

I put the episode together on Sunday morning. But, 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 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, Quarantine, 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 nickel 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


Pick one
Fight fire with fire
A thin veneer
I was very young
Brownie mix
Are we there yet?
I’ll be there
Slippery slope
Too much to bear
Preventative Maintenance
Mice cream
The sweet smell of success
Every good intention
Thousands of years
Virtual reality
Extremely flexible
USB socket
Cross country
Where’s Ethel?
Screaming Kids
Water Torture
Cassette tape
Contact lens
Thumbs up
What happens next?
The way we were
Mouse trap
The wrong words
Bottomless pit
A word from an unknown language.
Put that thing down
Horror on the subway!
Your honor
Cracked pavement
As far as the eye can see
Frozen in time
Old Videos
Riot of color
Potato eyes
It’s a dirty job
Why should I?
Mustard yellow
Blue sky
Rat stew
Brand awareness

Evil Ted

A hero is a person of admirable quality who performs good deeds.
A superhero is a heroic person with superhuman or supernatural powers.
Ted lived in a community overlooked by superheroes.
Sometimes, Ted’s good deeds helped. Other times, they didn’t.
But people still thanked Ted. At least he tried, unlike the superheroes.
Ted wished he could do more.
So, he pretended to be a supervillan.
“When things go wrong, blame them on The Evil Ted,” said Ted.
The superheroes suddenly noticed the community and fixed things.
They never managed to catch Evil Ted.
“You just missed him,” he said, grinning.


When I want toast, I want plain white toast.
No whole wheat.
No arrowwheat.
No pumpernickel.
No sourdough.
No multigrain.
No ancient grain.
No oat.
No lavache.
No flabread.
No matzoh.
I mean, seriously?
That’s seriously flat bread.
No raisin cinnamon.
No rye.
No naan.
No focaccia.
No ciabatta.
No beer bread.
No Irish soda bread.
No cornbread.
No brioche.
No banana bread.
No bagels.
No english muffins.
No croissants.
No tortillas.
No pitas.
Those are just thick tortillas sliced open.
You know that sweet potato bread?
The bread that they make with sweet potatoes?
None of that shit either.

Sometimes I don’t

Sometimes I don’t feel like combing my hair.
So, I shave my head.
Sometimes, I don’t feel like brushing my teeth.
It’s okay. I can take them out and soak them in a glass.
Sometimes, I don’t feel like doing the dishes.
Easy to deal with, because I use paper plates, and I can throw them out.
Sometimes, I don’t feel like writing.
So, I don’t write. I just sit there and think for a while.
And when the feeling passes, when I don’t feel like doing nothing anymore, I get up and do all the things I didn’t do.

Dyson fan

I like fans.
Even though the air conditioning is on, I still like the feel of a fan.
Some fans are loud. And others catch lint and dust and cat hair in the grating.
They’re a pain to clean out.
So, I looked at one of those Dyson fans.
They’re a bladeless design, and move more air while running much quieter than normal fans.
So, I got one. And I compared it to my normal fan.
It was quieter. I liked it.
Then I turned on my laptop to write a review, and it’s fan was as loud as hell.

The last minute trade

Sure, they’re a good team, but they can get better.
So, at the trade deadline, they shopped their star outfielder for a third baseman.
And the rest of their infield for starting pitching.
Their starting pitchers were dealt for a new outfield.
While the rest of their outfielders were exchanged for some bullpen pitchers, a closer, and a better catcher.
Another catcher came in an even deal for their existing catcher.
The next day, the locker room had a whole new bunch of guys suiting up.
In uniforms that the equipment manager had just barely finished sewing on their names.

The garage kitten

Someone found a kitten in the parking garage.
It was a small black kitten, and hiding under a car.
My black cat Myst has a bit of a cold, and I’ve been having to give her pills.
She bites and claws and spits them out, so it hasn’t been easy.
And last night, she fell asleep in my lap, fell off, and clawed my leg on the way down to the floor.
Maybe I should go back for the kitten?
I can show it to Myst and tell her that she’s been replaced.
Maybe then she’ll take her damn pills.

Weekly Challenge #782 – Advanced

Baby Panther



I joined the group for a laugh.

It was a dull Sunday afternoon, with nothing on TV, and I was bored; which is how I came to be trawling around communities on Reddit, just for the chance to wind up strangers on the internet.

The Advanced Subatomic Particle Physics subreddit caught my attention, and I thought it would be fun to inject a bit of humour into the proceedings.

Which is how my facetious comment about the interconnectedness of chocolate chip cookies and black holes, led to the discovery of a brand new subatomic particle.

Which, they named after me!


A cool course on something maritime, he couldn’t remember what. Something he had seen online, but he hadn’t paid much attention. And now he was in this predicament, surrounded by ice and no one in sight. The tiny boat was destroyed and that thing, whatever it was called, frantically blinking some sort of danger signal, was tossed aside.
“And now, Mr. Smart Ass who never reads anything ’til the end? And now? Well, now you’re gone.”
People searched for him. They did try…
Surprisingly, the advanced “cool course” had twice as many attendees. People like getting in trouble, don’t they?


The scientists tell us that The Doomsday Clock is ticking and we’re just one hundred seconds from midnight.

One hundred seconds aware from catastrophe, mass extinction and the end of the world.

And for me, I couldn’t be happier to see an end to it all.

When you’re immortal, time is an inconvenience; a never-ending, constant stream of boredom, irritation and near insanity.

Midnight can’t come soon enough for me.

So yesterday, I left my engine running, turned the aircon up to full, and spent all day dumping plastic waste into the ocean.

And the clock advanced one second closer.


True Evil

The guard pointed at the sack of salt. The old man pulled it up on to his
shoulders. He moved steadily and evenly, which somehow made the guard
smile. I watched for about an hour, wondering how long the old man could
continue making the trip back and forth along the barber wire fence. Then
suddenly he drop face down, there were no demanding action on the part of
collection of guards. Just a moment of a hand a group of men materialize
out of the shadows. Then he pointed at me and I advanced. Work will set
you free I thought.


As spaceflight quickly advances, humans are soon returning to the moon. Mars would be next and I am encouraged that it could happen in my lifetime. A trip to Mars takes about seven months one way. For such a long flight the first crew should be Buddhist monks.

Buddhist monks are disciplined. They are accustomed to isolation. They already live a minimalist lifestyle. They could spend their downtime in contemplation of the Universe, while staring out at the Universe. Just think of the possibilities with meditation in zero gravity.

Landing on Mars, they would be in the ultimate zen garden.


Though Mr. Blanketmaker had advanced toward Linoliamanda’s father with his hand extended in a friendly greeting and a smile on his face, Mr. Withybottom turned his back on him, headed toward his house, and shouted over his shoulder, “Come on, Linny. Get in the house.”

It didn’t take an advanced degree in psychology for anyone to see that the girl’s father had emotional control issues. Still Billbert wanted everyone to be happy and get along. While Linoliamanda searched for her cat again, Billbert ran across the street. “Mr. Withybottom. What would it take for Linoliamanda and me to remain friends?”


And my story for this week on the topic of Advanced is entitled Advancing the Runner
In baseball, a batter can get on base in many ways. Let’s ignore the pitching stuff: wild pitches, balks, walks, ‘bean balls’, etc. Just hit the ball in play and beat the throw. That’s a base hit. Unless the defense mishandled the ball. Then it’s an Error. Or if they threw to another base for a force out then threw to First. If you still beat the throw, that’s scored as ‘reached on a Fielder’s Choice’. If the defensive player obstructs your path, ‘Player Interference’. These all count zero on batting average. Like a Walk, but a lot more work.


When Arthur asked his oncologist how far the cancer had progressed, he said “I wouldn’t be buying any green bananas.”
Which really didn’t make much sense to Arthur, since he didn’t like bananas, so he didn’t buy them.
Arthur thanked the doctor, went to the grocery store, and bought some green bananas.
“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about,” said Arthur. “They’re green. What’s the harm?”
He tossed the bananas aside and went about his day, totally forgetting about them.
Until, later, he walked back into the kitchen, stepped on one, and slipped on it, cracking his skull.