Centuries ago, the British would transport criminals across the oceans to Australia.
Recently, scientists came up with a plan to transport criminals to the moon.
Well, just the dangerous ones. The ones with life sentences and no possibility of parole.
The prison was automated, with robot guards, hydroponic oxygen and food generation farms, and so on.
The inmates were put to work building a moon colony for future residents.
Do a good job, and you earn a release.
And the plan worked. The colony was completed quickly,
The prisoners were all released… to the cold, airless surface of the moon.
Best seller
After years of trying to write The Great American Novel and failing, Fred gave up writing.
“Why?” asked Joe, Fred’s agent. “I know you have it in you.”
“No, I don’t,” said Fred. “But you do.”
“Me?”
Fred became Joe’s agent, and when Fred finished writing his novel, Joe shopped it around and got it published.
Best seller. Fifteen weeks.
Joe’s next nine novels were also best-sellers.
Joe got famous, and Fred booked him on talk shows and book tours.
They both made a good living.
These days, you’ll catch them on the golf course.
Joe lets Fred keep score.
George the Talent Scout
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
He could spot good talent, though.
Several of the cabin boys he’d found at local schools had grown up to become great pirates.
George was proud of them, even though they weren’t exactly proud of owing their careers to George.
George would send them birthday and Christmas cards, out of genuine fondness, not out of some selfish attempt to network.
And those pirates would open the envelope, read the card, and know that someone cared and remembered them.
Even if that someone was an incompetent, bumbling screw-up like George.
Weekly Challenge #648 – Chaos
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
“A bear. Run.”
A bear? In the house?
He stood up and opened the door. The house was quiet.
At the end of the corridor, he looked down. The stairs were clear.
A step. Then another.
When he turned to enter the living-room…
“A bear. Run,” he yelled.
He’d never run up the stairs so quickly.
He locked the door and hid under the bed, as if that’d help him.
For weeks, social media was flooded with photos of his horrified face when he saw the embalmed bear.
Life became difficult while everyone else was having a laugh.
TURA
Chaos
———
General Wei surveyed the battlefield that portended final victory over all the Empire’s enemies, but his spirit grew uneasy. He sent for the monk Bakun. “Always have I striven to defeat chaos with order,” said General Wei. “Why should I not at last complete this task?”
Bakun replied, “A crystal exhibits perfect order. A fulminating volcano exhibits perfect chaos. Life is to be found in neither state, but in the flux between them.”
General Wei was enlightened. Thereafter, with hidden hands he always cultivated new enemies to replace those he defeated, and so maintained the vigour of the Middle Kingdom.
RICHARD
Chaos!
Chaos reigned.
And throughout the kingdom, the land was at peace; wars ceased and the economy prospered.
These were the good times when the people flourished in prosperity and happiness.
All the nations around were perplexed. ‘Surely’ they mused, ‘with Chaos on the throne, the country should be a mess?’
However, we knew better.
Chaos was a puppet king – all the power in the kingdom lay in his advisors, the wise men and the sages.
Indeed, it was they who had insisted he be crowned.
Far better to have Chaos under our control, than running amok amongst the people!
CHARLIE
Chaos theory is applied to fields as diverse as mathematics, physics, biology and psychology. In the discussion of chaos, The Butterfly Effect is described. A butterfly flapping its’ wings in China affects the weather in the Southern U.S.
My ex, flapping her lips, affected the normally stable state of my mental health. I was chastised for a number of things. Scratching my head, watching junk T V, eating too fast, being too fat, etc.
My wife was a family therapist. This included counseling of married couples. I was her second husband, and after our marriage, she married a third time.
SERENDIPITY
In the beginning, chaos filled the void, and it was formless and without order.
In time, the world was created and the ancient rules and laws of nature were laid down, in perpetuity.
Mankind arose and subdued the world, making it bend to his will and supply all his needs.
The world and everything in it became man’s property: The fields and the mountains, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea. And man looked upon it, and it was good.
But man forgot one thing.
Chaos still lurks beneath the surface.
And I’m coming back… Soon!
JEFFREY
The Suicide of the West
by Jeffrey Fischer
When the first bomb detonated, panic ruled the streets. Subsequent explosions only added to the chaos and carnage. Would this time be different? Would this attack on civilians finally be the one to bring together politicians and voters, Left and Right, to call for an end to meek acceptance of terrorism on our shores? Or would it be more of the same: empty platitudes, prayers for the dead, calls for even more tolerance toward those who do not share our values, calls for opening the gates even wider to admit more sick minds, all in the name of “diversity”?
The question is largely rhetorical. The West is dead, a victim of self-destruction, even if parts of the body still twitch, a reflex from those who cannot yet see what has happened.
NORVAL JOE
With the words, “I’m in love, Dad”, two lives were suddenly in chaos.
Billbert and Mr. Withybottom looked at each other and shook their heads.
“I think I’d better go, now.” Billbert handed Linoliumanda the broom.
“Not yet,” she begged.
“No, Linny. He’s right. It’s getting late,” her father said.
Her face turned red and tears filled her eyes. “Dad. You can’t chase all my friends away. I’m thirteen and I won’t be your little girl forever.”
“But, you are right now. Go to your room,” Mr. Withybottom pointed up the stairs, turned, and closed the door in Billbert’s face.
TOM
Today I cleaned out my Desk
My TA would shake her head and say, “The room is in total chaos.” I never liked it much when it was too quiet, always felt things were real buzzing when the under current in the room started to rumble. When voices run and bounced about. I could always talk above the din. Some folk didn’t care for this type of instruction. This is why my year review tended to be split between “fire this guy” and “the best teacher I’ve had.” The dean would shake his head and say “Total chaos.” I say, “one day you’re going to have to fire me.”
ASPEN
Story from Aspen Gwen Womack-Odonda
Wired to think or Wired to feel? One world, consisting of both that are very different, creating a separate planet for each to live on. One and the other incapable of knowledge and understanding of how each part works creating a disconnect of isolation for the emotional being that makes the world they are forced to sit in and endure, unbearable.
Engulfed in flames of feeling that burn to the core, all the while, trying their best to navigate a world of logic that has no commonplace within an emotional being forced to learn logic to exist in Chaos.
PLANET Z
To the media, he is The Lord of Chaos.
But to me, he’s just Steve.
Steve’s a patient of mine.
Comes in every two months for a cleaning and checkup.
His insurance covers only two cleanings a year, so he pays out of pocket for the others.
“I swear, it’s in one of these pockets,” he says, fumbling around his cargo pants and shirt and jacket.
He checks his backpack, then his laptop bag.
I’m about to tell him to settle up next time, but he says “Ah, found it!” and hands me a few bills. “See you in April!”
Diseased solution
When you go to an amusement park or public event, do it when you’re sick.
That way, you immune system is already active and working on fighting illness and infection.
Otherwise, when you’re fine and healthy, your defenses aren’t ready for the many illnesses from around the world.
Would you rather have a simple cold, or a full-blown tropical virus that makes your eyes, ass, and ears bleed?
It’s like measles parties, but instead of exposing kids to an infected kid to build immunity, you gather adults to Disneyland or a Rolling Stones concert.
Biological warfare is so much fun!
O Disneyland
Disneyland is Disneyland.
Getting in the park early will let you ride a few rides before the long lines take over. And thank God for the purse checks and metal detectors doing their security theater routine.
Those guys slow down the rush of fresh meat long enough to keep the lines good until ten or ten-thirty, maybe eleven on a weekday.
All the restaurants fill up quickly, and unless you have a reservation, it’s corn dogs and cokes again.
Line up for the light show and fireworks, stand behind a family of Watusi with big hair and hats.
Goodnight, Mickey.
Jerry’s boat
Jerry counted down the days to retirement.
“I plan to build a boat and sail it over as much water as I can before I die,” he said.
We tried to convince him that he should just buy a boat or lease one instead. But Jerry had a dream, and you can’t talk a man out of his dream.
The doctors couldn’t talk him out of his dream even after he sawed off three fingers.
So, Jerry had another accident.
We rented a boat to hold his funeral on, and spread his ashes over as much water as we could.
And dead men tell no tales
Dead men tell no tales! warns the pirate’s skull as our boat tips down the slide and we float past scene after scene of skeletons, treasure, and wreckage.
Not if you depose them first, I mumble.
The trial is four days away. To get my mind off of this, I went down to Disneyland, like I always do.
New name. New face. New credit cards.
What do I have to worry about?
As I key in my access code to Club 33, a fat man in tourist clothes puts a knife in my back.
My E Ticket just got punched.
George the Camper
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
On paper, he was really good.
His certificate from Pirate Summer Camp.
A sash full of Pirate Scout Merit Badges.
Several bronze medals from the Pirate Olympics.
And a degree in piracy from a well-respected correspondence college.
But on the ship, he was a complete disaster.
He wet the bunk, he broke his cutlass, and his bandanna kept coming loose at the worst times.
“Tie it in the back, you idiot,” said the captain.
Despite repeated attempts to sneak him with hostages, the British Navy kept sending him back.
George the Receipt Guy
George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Whenever he pillaged, he gave out receipts so the homeowner could claim the loss on their insurance.
And he was too much of a gentleman to do the whole raping thing.
As for plundering, well, isn’t that just another word for pillaging?
“There’s a difference,” said the captain, pulling out a pair of dictionaries. “One of these, I pillaged. The other, I plundered.”
George pulled out a thesaurus. “Pillage. Plunder, Ransack. Loot.” He snapped the book shut. “They’re all the same thing.”
The captain growled, and threw George overboard.