Christmas is over.
Take the ornaments off of the tree.
The glass globes.
The tin soldiers.
The silver stars.
And wrap them well before you put them back in the box.
So that they don’t break. And we’ll have to buy new ones. Again.
Pull off the strings of lights and wrap them around the cardboard tubes.
Otherwise, they’ll get tangled. And we’ll have to buy new ones. Again.
All that’s left is the angel on the top.
Whisper the prayer to release him.
So he can fly back up to Heaven.
We’ll catch another angel for next year’s tree.
Texting Santa
In the old days, kids would write letters to Santa and mail them to the North Pole.
Real paper, real envelopes, and real stamps.
For a while, they called him.
But those services charged by the minute.
Kids were supposed to get their parents’ permission.
But what kid ever does?
Now, kids send texts or emails or instant messages.
Santa never got any of those.
Russian and Chinese hackers picked them up.
“And what is your mother’s credit card number?” they asked the children. “You want to be on the good list, right?
Oh, and how naughty those hackers were!
Tinsel the Elf is Happy Now
Tinsel was an elf. He made toys at the North Pole.
Elves are supposed to be happy all of the time.
Tinsel wasn’t.
He didn’t like making toys.
He wanted to be an architect.
“There’s a lot you can do with snow and ice,” he said, pulling out some blueprints.
Santa signed the order to have Tinsel sent to the re-education center.
Two months later, Tinsel came back.
He was always smiling.
But he didn’t talk. Or laugh.
He just worked, harder than anyone.
His green felt cap covered the surgery scars.
Everybody makes a show of being happy now.
Weekly Challenge #661 – Belt
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:
LIZZIE
The conveyor belt carried a collection of distorted torsos. They had been hanging at the exhibition dock for a few weeks.
“Is this what they’ll eat?”
The others nodded. “Ripe and packed with proteins, sir.”
“Don’t you think the meat is too ripe? How do you expect those damn humans to work properly if you give them this?”
The others looked alarmed.
“Sector 6 is proud to provide quality food. Would you like to taste the meat?”
“Well, no. You taste the meat.”
Ward 2 became packed with Sector 6 personnel for a few damn weeks.
RICHARD
Belt up and brace
It’s always disconcerting when the seat belt sign comes on without warning.
When that gentle chime sounds for no apparent reason, your first instinct is to look around for reassurance, which is rarely forthcoming: The stewardess gives you a tight-lipped smile as she makes her way purposely to the front, “Probably just a precaution, sir.”
Your ears strain for changes in engine tone; every unexpected noise makes you clench the seat arms more tightly; you pray it’s just turbulence.
Realisation dawns: You’re in a four hundred ton metal tube, seven miles up…
And there’s nothing at all you can do.
ALEX
What does Santa keep in his belt? I mean it MUST be a utility belt – just like Batman.
How could one man crack every security code, pick every lock, eat every cookie, and sneak away unnoticed?
One thing I’m sure of: Santa packs the adult sized diapers. No, not just for him! For the reindeer as well!
Think about it. If he travels all around the world and stops at every house, there is no time for a pit stop.
When was the last time you read of a family waking up to a jolly man pooing in their bathroom?
TOM
A matter of comfort
Timmy didn’t like belts. The edges cut across his hips and made him feel massively uncomfortable. Mom being a good Mom got Timmy a pair of suspenders. This suited Timmy just fine. Through the rest of his life he went beltless. There is a joke about a man who were a belt and suspenders. What do you call this man: insecure. Timmy never thought this was very funny. In the 70’s Timmy wore rainbow suspenders. When he finally passed away the fools at the funeral home dress him up with a belt. His friends removed.
JON
Going Around
by
Jon DeCles
Sometimes inconsistencies are beneficial. We have the Asteroid Belt and the Kuiper Belt, but we have the Rings of Saturn, Uranus, Neptune, and Haumea.There seems to be something deep and psychological about circular objects, and particularly related to the female of the species. Both rings and belts have been associated with marriage rites.Collars, another circular object, seem to be associated with ownership and slavery for the most part. You read about rings of power, about power belts, but you don’t read about collars of power. You read about dog collars and leashes or collars with bells for animals.
SERENDIPIDY
Belt up… It’s going to be a bumpy ride!
In fact, I can guarantee that you’ll be screaming right from the moment we start! From there onwards, it’s going to be a roller coaster journey that will test you to the limit, physically, mentally and emotionally. And no matter how much you beg and plead to stop, this is a one way trip. There’s no getting off until we’re done.
At least you’ll have company for the ride, because this is one nightmare trip that every one of us will be taking together.
Welcome, to the ride… Of your life!
JERRY
Arthur pulled the knife from his belt and proceeded to carve a pentagram into the abdomen that had been rude enough to brush against him causing half his whiskey sour to splash on the bar. Not that it mattered. That was possibly the worst whiskey sour he had ever tasted in his life and he had tasted many. It was a matter of principle. Unless you provided examples to those around
Well, it was time to move on to the next bar.
NORVAL JOE
Billbert frowned. “How is not smelling bad a superpower?”
“Think about it,” his father said. “Eustacia never has to brush her teeth or use deodorant. And have you ever noticed how often she sprays Fabreeze where ever she goes, especially after eating her seven bean casserole?”
“She farts
“Don’t worry, son. Once you’ve gotten a few years as a super hero under your belt, it will all make sense.” He put a hand on
“Well. To tell you the truth, Dad. I can fly.”
PLANET Z
I remember when my Dad would take off his belt and beat me with it.
“Just wait until your father gets home!” my mother would say.
And he’d get home. And he’d take off his belt. And he’d beat me with it.
So, I did the thing that any normal kid would do.
I destroyed all of my father’s belts.
“What are you going to beat me with now?” I’d say.
He beat me with one of my belts.
So, I destroyed all of my own belts, too.
I destroyed every belt.
And that’s how I became Batman’s nemesis: Beltman.
Vincent the Elf
“VINCENT!” shouted Santa over the intercom. “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Vincent the Elf carried a clipboard, a cup of coffee, and an extra 30 pounds he could never seem to lose.
Stress eating, he told his doctor.
“Do you want a heart attack?” said his doctor, handing Vincent a prescription.
Santa wanted Vincent to carry a beeper, or one of those new-fangled cell phones.
“Kids ask for them all the time,” said Santa. “Just grab one off the line and give me the number.”
Vincent set up a phone, charged the plan to Santa, and looked online for a new job.
Santa’s Secret Journal
For centuries, Santa kept a journal.
This wasn’t Santa’s Nice and Naughty List.
He left that on his desk so elves who handled logistics could plan routes and shipping manifests.
No, this was Santa’s deeper thoughts, about life, everything else.
Things he’d done that never made the Rankin Bass holiday specials.
Famous people he’d met, and the ones he’d fucked.
Or done drugs with.
Santa wrote the book in code, one he’d never shared with anyone else.
Not even Mrs. Claus.
But every now and then, he’d forget, and the nosy elves would gossip along the production lines for weeks.
The Immortal Snowman
Frosty The Snowman was a happy soul.
Every Winter, he’d come down from the North Pole to visit.
He’d go to the Christmas pageant, year after year.
As the kids got older, they went off to college, or found jobs in town, and some settled down with families of their own.
One after another, generation after generation, they died.
Over time, Frosty’s face became lined with icy tracks from all of the tears.
Frosty The Eternally Sad, they came to call him.
He took off his hat, a kid smoothed out his face, and put it back on his head.
Frosty’s Horror
At the end of Winter, Frosty the Snowman usually went to the North Pole to stay with Santa.
But one year, he asked if he could stay.
“Yeah, we’ve got a freezer warehouse,” said the local grocery distributor. “It’ll let you see what happens around here.”
Frosty agreed, and on the first day of Spring, when he could feel himself sweating, he moved in.
The hanging sides of beef filled Frosty with horror.
But it was much too late to go North.
And despite moving to a frozen novelty display case at the grocery, he never sang or danced again.
Frosty the Pissman
Frosty the Snowman was made in his creator’s image.
Two arms, two legs, a head with two eyes and a nose and mouth.
Frosty wondered what would happen if the kids were to build him differently.
Three eyes? Rusty nails in his mouth as teeth?
Tentacles for arms… Frosty the Octopusman!
A giant, a woman, a dinosaur… the possibilities were endless!
Frosty sculpted some concepts and showed the kids.
“I poured some Mountain Dew soda on this one to stain it yellow, but if you all were to piss on me…”
The town council ordered Frosty to leave at once.
Frosty stares into the abyss
If you’ve never experienced the Aurora Borealis, the first time you do, you will fill with wonder and amazement.
Then the second time… third time… that sense of magic fades.
And you grow to resent your past self for its infantile amusement.
“Any fleeting joy you experience is just the endless horror taking a moment to catch its breath and come up with something new and worse,” said Frosty the Snowman.
Rudolf the Red-Nose Reindeer blinked, and he looked away from the light show in the sky.
“What?” he said. “What’s wrong, Frosty?”
“Nothing,” lied Frosty. “Sure is pretty, though.”