The 100 Word Stories Podcast – Page 245 – Just say "Alexa, play the 100 Word Stories Podcast."

Weekly Challenge #718 – SHARK

LIZZIE

A man sat by the shore at the beach.
Two little boats, sailing along the coast…, he muttered.
That sounds like the beginning of a story, someone in the group said, laughing. And continued walking.
Two little boats, sailing along the little coast, sailing along the rocky coast, sailing along… And he stopped, his eyes on the horizon.
The group had disappeared from his sight.
Two little boats, sailing along the sharky coast… He stopped again. Sharky… Shark. He shook his head and slid backwards, taking his feet out of the water.
One little boat, sailing along the lonely coast.

RICHARD

Great White Lie

As a teenager, I was into extreme sports. Unfortunately, these occasionally led to extreme injuries!

After the fifth shoulder dislocation, reconstructive surgery was the only option to repair my now, fairly useless, arm.

This was the days before keyhole techniques, and I became the proud owner of an eight inch scar, which I’d happily show off to impress the girls, who never failed to be mesmerised by the story of my heroic escape from the Jaws of a Great White shark.

I’d still be using the story today… Except the girls no longer want to see me without my shirt!

SERENDIPIDY

Welcome aboard!

Before you get settled in, I just want to make a few things clear, because a lot of people think this job is like what they see in the movies… It’s not!

We are a disciplined, professional and rational scientific outfit. Nobody is here for kicks, nobody acts recklessly, and we don’t drink whisky into the early hours singing raucous sea shanties and comparing scars.

Sharks are no joke – and that’s something you’ll find out soon enough.

Now, as for your assignments: Everyone on board has their designated role, and yours is very simple.

You’re the bait!

TOM

NaNa .. NaNaNa .. NaNa .. NaNa … NANA

“I’m Tired of being a Shark, I want to be a Jet.” “Hector we’re Puerto Ricoians, Puerto Ricoians aren’t Jets.” “Dude my name is Ivan O’Flaherty, I’ve dance in the Bolshoi and River Dance.” “Hector drill down into your Stanislavski. You got to feel your Latin Prowling Predator.” “I don’t want to prowl, I want to soar.” “Yea, Yea you really want to click your finger and look cool?” “So?” “We get way more pirouettes, then those sissy boy jets.” “What wrong with sissyes, you’ve been a pony or two on 42nd?” “Not the point, Sharks rule, don’t be a Jet Fool.”

NORVAL JOE

As the single headlighted car came closer, the familiar tune of “Baby Shark”, came from the back seat. Obviously, the car was not his mother’s.
Billbert turned back to Marissa who attacked like a shark. “Tell me the truth, Billbert. I caught you red handed. How do you fly? If you tell me, I’ll keep your secret. If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone I know. And I know a lot of people.”
“Okay.” Billbert said. “I wear a plastic bag for underwear and it makes me float.”
Marissa gritted her teeth. “Don’t mock me. I told you. I’m not stupid.”

PLANET Z

Two red flags means that there is a shark in the water.
Makes sense at the beach.
But not in my bathroom.
Is the shark in my tub, toilet, or sink?
Who do I call to get rid of a shark?
The landlord said I’m not allowed to keep pets and hung up on me.
I called the city. “There’s a shark in my bathroom.”
They told me to talk to my landlord.
“He hung up on me,” I said.
The city hung up on me too.
Do you know what I should do?
Besides pee in the kitchen sink?

I Love The Movies

I love the movies.
I love going to the movies.
I love the theater, the popcorn, the cokes, the sound…
Tear that ticket in half and hand me the stub.
The curtains open.
The lights go down.
And…
Previews. Ads. Public service announcements.
I love all of this.
When I was little, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
“In the movies,” I said.
Actor? Director? Producer? Makeup? Set designer?
Nope. I just want to be in the movies.
My English teacher said the right word is at, not in.
And I got an F.

Henry

I hate Henry.
I wish he was dead.
Everyone knew that.
One day, I got my wish.
Henry’s car exploded.
And Henry was dead.
Dead.
I smiled.
And whispered:
“Thank you.”
To whoever.
Made the bomb.
Set the bomb.
And made Henry dead.
I went to the police.
And I said:
“Are you looking for me?”
They interrogated me
For hours
And hours
I told them nothing.
I just smiled.
They wanted a confession.
Nope.
“I guess you’re not
Looking for me.”
Laughing.
They never found
The bomber.
Because i distracted the cops.
They got away.
Did they thank me?

Ziggy Marley

Bob Marley’s last words to his son Ziggy were: “Money can’t buy life.”
And then he died.
Ziggy was only thirteen.
At first he thought he’d meant that he could take all the Life cereal and Life board games he could grab.
But despite what Mikey says, Life cereal’s kinda bland. And that board game gets really boring after a while.
So, Ziggy practiced.
And then he made music, bought a nice car, bought a nice house or two, and bought a lot of nice things.
No, money can’t buy you life, but you can buy nice stuff for it.

Make The Pizza

I bought pizza dough, sauce, and a mozzarella ball the other day.
It didn’t take me long to shape out the dough.
While the dough rose, I harvested basil from the patio and washed it.
I rolled the dough flat twice, spread out the sauce, and arranged the basil.
Then I sliced up the mozzarella into thin sheets and laid it on top of the basil.
It only took 10 minutes to bake in the oven.
I cut up the pizza, took a bite, and it was wonderful.
But the cheese slid off too easily. Next time, I’ll shred it.

Temp Pass

When I get home after work, I usually put my keys and my door pass in my hat, and then I leave my hat on the side table.
However, I’ve recently bought a set of Hogwarts school ballcaps. I pick one at random in the morning and wear it to work. When i get home from work, I put the Hogwarts hat back in the pile, and the keys and door pass end up in my old hat.
Yep. Forgot the door pass today.
I sit in the lobby and wait for the receptionist to hand me a temporary badge.

The Needy Friend

Over the years, Andy’s computer has been a collection of all the parts that his friends have left over from when they upgrade their computers.
His battered and broken furniture is a jumble of sofas, tables, chairs, and shelves they replaced with newer stuff.
Andy’s car has always been a clunker that his friends couldn’t get trade-in credit for.
He’s on his fifth wife. All five have been ex-wives of his friends.
Now he’s in the hospital. He desperately needs a heart-lung transplant.
I guess we’ll have to wait and see which of his friends gets into a motorcycle wreck.

Weekly Challenge #717 – FAKE

LIZZIE

The photo was on the table, silent. Undeniable proof.
Nah, it’s fake, someone said.
And yet, it was there, a loud accusation to all those denying it.
No one touched the photo, but everyone looked at it.
They knew it had been taken there, in that sunny apartment, but where exactly?
It’s clean. Nothing. No blood, no footprints, no fingerprints. Leave.
Nothing they could do. And they left.
Years later, breaking down a wall, there she was. There she was… 5 years old and definitely not a fake.
The photo got lost in a mysterious flood in the archive room.

RICHARD

Have a nice day

Every day, I get up, shower, have breakfast and leave for work, where I put on my fake plastic smile, take a deep breath and start the day.

I hate my job, can’t stand my colleagues, and the customers make me borderline suicidal.

The hours are long, the pay is rubbish and job satisfaction is non-existent… But, that fake smile stays fixed in place throughout every transaction, every interaction, every minute of the day.

I turn to the next customer, ramp up the fake smile to a cheerful beam and say my line…

“Welcome, to the happiest place on earth!”

SERENDIPIDY

My husband looked at me aghast.

“What? Seriously… Every time?”

I smirked, “Yes honeybun, every single one was fake. You’ve never been able to satisfy me in that way, and you never will.”

He looked confused, eyes glancing at the chains securing him firmly to the Saint Andrew’s cross, to which I’d bound him tightly.

I answered his unasked question: “No, sweetiepie, none of this is intended to achieve what you have always failed to do, but it is nevertheless, going to bring me a great deal of pleasure!”

I picked up the scalpel, advancing slowly towards his exposed manhood.

TOM

Oh No, Not Again

If I hear the word fake used in casual conversation one more time, I’m going to drive this here number two pencil through their brain. I know the odds I will hit actual functioning gray matter is pretty slim. At least I’ve a chance to diverting the river of verbal chub. I don’t really care if their selected bubbled echo sphere has feeling checked it till it bloods red white and blue. What I want to is a chain of provable facts that led to the postulation being presented. What I want is a discourse of words that haven’t been weaponized.

NORVAL JOE

Billbert hoped his mother would show up soon. Hoping to avoid the subject of how he and Linoliumanda got home from the dance, he asked, “Is that a real Farrari?”
Marrissa rolled her eyes. “No. It’s a fake. I saw you and that funny girl fly away from the school. How do you do that?”
A car with a single headlight turned onto the street. It could be his mother. Billbert said, “We weren’t really flying. That was all fake, you know, done with wires and mirrors.”
“I’m smarter than you think, Billbert,” Marrissa said. “You can’t fake me out.”

TURA

Fake
———
The British Royal Family is going to the dogs. Some look back to Queen Victoria, but really, all she did was sit in the chair too long. She was peak empire and everyone knew it. Lizzie the First started it and it was clogs to clogs in three hundred years. And before her you had the Tudors and Plantagenets smashing the place up like children. Fake monarchy, and a fake aristocracy. These days, you get a peerage for slipping a few bob in the right places. You’re not a real aristocrat unless your family came over in the Norman Conquest.

PLANET Z

Truth is, none of this is real.
I’m not real. You’re not real.
It’s all an illusion.
It’s all in your head.
Or maybe, it’s all in my head.
I have no idea. And neither do you.
There’s no way to prove anything.
So, we just have to agree to deal with each other like this.
Even though neither of us, none of this, is real.
What is real?
I don’t know. I don’t remember.
Maybe I never knew what was real.
So, how do I know this isn’t real?
How you and me and all of this isn’t real?

They always talked

The room had a chair and table bolted to the floor.
And the subject chained to the chair.
We’d play a tape of people screaming for a while.
I’d walk in with a bloody belt sander, and I’d ask them a question.
They wouldn’t talk. They never talked.
“Fine,” I’d say, and plugged in the belt sander.
Thumb the switch and revved it.
Sometimes skimming my arm hair.
I’d let them smell the burn.
“Okay, here we go.”
But the cord wouldn’t reach.
“I need an extension cord,” I’d say. “Need anything while I’m up.”
They talked. They always talked.

Frederick’s

Frederick’s of Hollywood sold naughty clothing.
Frederick’s of Chicago sold guns.
Frederick’s of New York sold electronics.
Frederick’s of Tokyo sold fish by the bucket.
Frederick’s of Berlin sold clocks.
Frederick’s of Marakesh sold slaves.
Frederick’s of Sydney sold souvenirs.
Frederick’s of Guam sold the best sandwiches. The sign on the front said so.
Frederick’s of San Salvador sold stage magician’s props.
Frederick’s of Bombay sold carpet by the yard.
Frederick’s of Seattle sold coffee.
Frederick’s of Rome sold bus passes.
Frederick’s of Waikiki Beach sold pineapples.
Frederick’s of London sold fancy hats.
And Frederick’s of Juneau sold space heaters.