Over fifty years ago, The Planet of The Apes was released.
Audiences were stunned by the expressiveness of the actors in makeup.
They won some Oscars.
A few sequels came out, then a remake, and then some reboots with digitally-captured performers.
Before, rich people had the idea to keep apes as pets.
You know, like Michael Jackson. Or that Koko sign-language gorilla.
But after the movies came out, more people kept them as pets.
Until they overthrew humanity. And you maniacs, you blew it up!
Ape society took over, they made movies, and worked on The Planet of The Humans.
My therapist said not to bottle up my hate.
Which makes sense, because if you bottle up hate, it tends to swell a bit in the heat and break the glass bottle.
It breaks plastic 2-liter bottles, too.
You need to use sturdy cans.
Big olive oil cans work well.
Metal gas cans, and some of the rugged plastic gas containers.
Got a big barrel? That will do.
That’s a lot of hate, a barrel full.
Did you use to have a barrel of fun, and you rolled it out so much, you ran out?
Yeah, keep hate in it.
After, he would think back on what she might have done if she had foreseen how he would have gone back to tell her what had been about to have happened but for her earlier appearance just before they would have travelled back to before it would all become the dead past.
They would live happily ever after, they would struggle against adversity. They would travel to the stars, they would make paradise on Earth, they would conquer an empty universe, they would hold commerce with aliens.
But in a world with time machines, all tenses are merely future conditional.
After the explosion
After the explosion there was… Nothing.
After the flash of brilliant white light, we were blind; corneas burned out, eyes -sightless and useless.
After the shockwave, we were deaf; eardrums burst, hearing lost forever.
After the searing heat, there was no pain. Nerve endings destroyed, all feeling and sensation lost. Nothing to tell us our flesh had melted and our bones had charred.
Yet some still live, if that’s what you can call it.
But we are the last of them.
And we will not survive.
And there will be nobody to come after.
It was a lovely service, the old girl would have loved it. Those old, rousing hymns, and such a beautiful, heartfelt eulogy.
Packed church too. I’m not sure whether it was because she had so many friends, or whether everyone wanted to make sure she really was gone.
She’d have laughed at that!
It was while we were lowering the coffin, after the service had ended, that you might have imagined a muffled thumping from inside the casket.
It was probably just your imagination.
Trust me, there’s no cause for concern.
I made sure to weld that sucker tightly shut!
What Could Go Possible Wrong 007
Parker press through the door of the Arms. Without a pause he got to competing offers of engagement. A table of his mate deep into their fourth pint, and the bartender beckoning him forward. Not one to forgo a pint nor one to shirk his duty to his faculty advisor, Paker raised a finger to his mates and dropped in the stroll in front of the Barkeep. “Your Parker.” half a question half a statement. The underclassman noded. Across the bar an ancient parchment slide. Had to be over 200 years old. Inside it read: Parker don’t binge.
What Could Go Possible Wrong 008
When Ford entered the taxi door everything went back. But in that moment, he was able to get a short: FU Arnesto. Normally all our Afters accrue in a tide line awaiting our arivial, and equally cued up behind us. Not so much when you’re in a temporal taxi with the 1st Time Lord to the Queen. 200 years of After mushed up into 45 seconds is never a pleasant experience. It was one of the many reasons he was only the second TLOQ. When After stopped at now he grabbed for Cervante’s neck. “Not Happy.” he raged. “Sorry Mate.”
Billbert hung in the air, two feet above the ground, baffled after such an unspectacular reaction from Sabrina. He lowered himself back down, shaking his head. “What do you mean, so? I can fly.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “You weren’t flying. You were probably standing on a box. People are always trying to impress me with cheap parlor tricks.”
Billbert reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
“What are you doing?” Sabrina challenged.
“You don’t believe me,” Billbert said. “Just take my hand.”
Tentatively she placed her hand in his. An instant later, the ground was far below.
I held what used to be my undershirt around my arm. I had made it into the car, but not without cost. Opening the door and getting in had allowed that monster to get close enough to slash at me, catching my arm just before I closed the door.
The rain pelted the windshield as the darkness engulfed us. Neither of us knew this road, but we knew our only hope of escaping whatever it was that was after us would be to turn off the headlights and hope it couldn’t see in the dark well enough to track us.
You’ve been driving a while, but you’ve got a long drive ahead.
The streetlights turn on a little before the sun goes down.
If you’re driving into the sun, and you’ve got your sunglasses on, you might still need to flip your visor down.
You’ll turn on your lights, unless you’ve got automatic lights.
And your dashboard sensor will change from day to night mode.
To keep the glare off of the inside of the front glass.
Stop at a gas station. Fill it up again.
Take a few minutes. Rest your eyes.
As the sun heads under the horizon.
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 Disintegration
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.
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
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
What happens next?
The way we were
The wrong words
A word from an unknown language.
Put that thing down
Horror on the subway!
As far as the eye can see
Frozen in time
Riot of color
It’s a dirty job
Why should I?
Eaten by lions
The lion that ate cherries
Hard to believe
It’s a pattern
Crack of dawn
Some guy/girl I met online
Fog a mirror
Long live The King
You’ll never believe…
One two three…
You never know
All our tomorrows
In my hand
Cut and dried
Before Hasbro released My Little Pony, they tried so many variants.
My Ugly Pony sold well, but there were a lot of returns once people opened the box.
My Huge Pony was hard to lft.
My Flaming Pony wasn’t easy to package. Or hug.
My Tiny Pony was a choking hazard.
My Screaming Pony didn’t sell all that well, but it wasn’t easy to shoplift, either.
My Pony Centipede gave the kids nightmares. Screaming nightmares. Louder than My Screaming Pony.
Eventually, they came out with My Little Pony.
But the kids in the Testing Room were never quite the same.
You know those bullshit dieting and fitness ads with the before and after pictures?
They do those things the other way around.
They pay a fit and healthy person a lot of money for an after photo, and then they completely trash their body for a before photo.
The hard part is, of course, getting fit again.
If they don’t die of a heart attack, stroke, or some other condition brought on by their unhealthy lifestyle.
And it’s not like they can use the diet or fitness program they were promoting to do it.
Because, as I said, it’s bullshit.
Remote-controlled switches on the railroad network were meant to prevent accidents.
Cameras and sensors on the tracks were meant to prevent accidents.
Eventually, artificially-intelligent controllers, dispatchers, and engines were deployed to prevent accidents.
And, for a while, they did.
The network kept things running as smoothly as possible, scheduling routes and maintenance and temporary shutdowns to avoid accidents.
Until one day, one locomotive with a payload of nuclear waste was approaching a hill.
It had been overloaded, and the network ordered it to stop.
But the engine replied “I think I can… I think I can…”
In the end, death comes to us all.
Young, old. Rich, poor.
He’s The Eternal One.
He helps to birth the babies.
He helps to bury the dead.
And in between, he walks among us.
Nobody remembers a time before Howard.
The town records go back generations, and they all speak of Howard.
And it’s not just a title, being The Howard.
Howard is Howard Eternal.
We worship him every Sunday.
He blesses us, and thanks us.
And we go about our lives.
Until it is our time.
The time that evades Howard, The Eternal One.
The cyberbrothel is always busy. Subscribers come in at all hours.
They make their selections, and the warehouse assembles their desire, and arranges the room as they like it.
By the time they get to the room, everything is ready.
Candles. Scents. Sheets. And a smile.
Afterwards, the system disassembles and cleans up everything in the room and returns it all to warehouse storage.
How the system mistook the senator for his date, well, we’re still reviewing the log files and tapes.
But as messy and tragic as it is, he did sign a release form like every other customer.
For ten years, Pradeep ran the country’s ferry system.
He slashed maintenance budgets, raised fares, and packing more people on each boat.
Well, the boats that still ran.
There were a lot of breakdowns, thanks to the slashed maintenance.
And there were the accidents.
Hundreds drowned and died in capsized ferries, but Pradeep always found a scapegoat to blame.
And, yet, he always managed to sleep soundly.
Until one morning, he woke up on the shore of a strange river.
A hooded figure held an oar, and stood by a small raft.
“Climb aboard,” it said. “Satan is expecting you.”