The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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:

• Ginger
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Charlie
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Steven the Nuclear Man
• Tura
• Duane
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

GINGER

Cook

Ned was feeling the pinch one summer and decided that he had to become more self-reliant. He made bannock in his bachelor suite each day with nothing more than flour, water, salt, and sugar. The tasteless cakes were not leavened. They did not bake to a crisp finish. They were both dead and lead heavy – and the truth is, Ned really never had been much of a cook. I’d never seen dead food before. What possible benefit could come from consuming dried poster paste? I witnessed him eat his rations wordlessly on more than one occasion. Not once did it dawn on me that I was being shamed and that he expected me to don an apron. He was a survivalist in the making and I could not make heads or tails of the necessity of dead weight bannock. No berries, no fat, no juicy meat. We were just not “there” yet. Normally, I would enjoy stewing beef, or simmering potluck, or test tasting broth. But not for Ned.

JEFFREY

The Mob Accountant
by Jeffrey Fischer

Brian was hired by the Giaccamo family to keep their books. Two sets of books, actually: one that the IRS got to see, one that only the Don and his closest confidants were privy to. This worked well for years, but Brian got greedy. He started to cook the books yet another way, disguising the skim he was taking from the Giaccamos.

What Brian didn’t know was that Joey Jr., the Don’s youngest, was a CPA, focusing on forensic accounting. When Joey discovered the discrepancies, Brian’s goose was cooked. As was Brian, screaming all the way as they lowered him into the boiling water.

RICHARD

No accounting for taste

Business wasn’t exactly booming – to be honest, it was taking a dive, but I reckoned I could save it, with the right investors on board.

I visited an accountant, who had a somewhat less than squeaky clean reputation.

My instructions were simple: “Cook the books!”

I realise now, I should have taken a little more care…

When I turned up to see the results, he served my accounts pan fried and with a delicious red wine sauce.

Top tip – always check you’re dealing with the accountant; not some random chef who happens to work in the same building!

CHARLIE

I learned to cook at the Culinary Academy of America in upstate New York. Today, I cook for an Italian restaurant in town. We have a small menu, but large wine list. Most of my regulars are rich, and happy to pay for the over priced food and wine. I sprinkle a little something (Ketamine) in every entrée, and it seems to brighten things up for everyone.

Some do take out after their meal. The house specialty is a Philadelphia classic cheesesteak with Wagyu ribeye cut with foie gras and topped with truffled, homemade, fontina cheese on a sesame roll.

#2

The executive chef was a big, sweaty Greek. Mr. Farentinos was an obnoxious bully. He picked on the weakest members of the kitchen staff and made some of them cry. He would smack the back of their neck with his tattooed forearm if any new staff that did not jump and answer with a “Yes, Chef !” when he barked a command.
One of the salad chefs, a fellow from Turkey, was a quiet man, but underneath his smile, he seethed.

The chef was absent one Saturday, and the braised meat appeared to have markings similar to the chef’s tattoos.

LIZZIE

“Fresh,” said the farmer, his voice reaching an annoying pitch. “Check the pumpkins, miss. Fresh. Not that plastic-tasting garbage.”
The lady nodded and moved on. Everyone walked away quickly.
Only he knew how difficult it was to grow these darn things. The seeds became purple if he stored them for too long, the water made them blue, and painting each one with a natural food-coloring substance was hard work. Plus, after cooked, his pumpkins made people immortal, surely a bonus.
“Umm… Perhaps I should work on my marketing strategies,” he said, adjusting his voice to the perfect octave.

SERENDIPITY

They say the more you cook something, the less nutritious it becomes; vitamins and goodness leach out, along with the most of the flavour.

I advise eating all your food raw – you can’t beat the healthy crunch of fresh vegetables, or the taste of a handful of fruit, plucked straight from the tree, full of goodness and exactly as nature intended.

No, there’s nothing better than fruit and vegetables, raw, unprocessed and without additives and chemicals.

At least, that’s what they tell me.

Personally, I hate them – I’m a carnivore, and I love my food raw, alive and struggling.

STEVEN

I can almost see steam.

Her face reddens a shade with each of my words. There’s an art to it. You must be patient. Heat it too fast, and it’s burnt. Temperature too low, and it’s underdone. You’ve got to take your time and apply the heat just right.

She’s almost ready; finger wagging, cheeks flaming.

One last dash of spice: “At least your sister’s a better lay-”

She boils over, reaching for the knife I placed nearby, raising it up as I pull the gun from my pocket and shoot her down. It’s self-defense.

My compliments to the chef.

TOM

A Well Kept Secret

Both Bligh and Vancouver pondered the motives of the Captain. Under the pretext of fur trade they put off to 50 degrees north up the Strait. Pressing into Salish territory puzzled Cook’s offices. They had pellets a plenty why cut inward? Further on the second day out the Captain directed the pilot to particular point heavily marked on Cook’s personal nautical chart. A chest was brought up from the hold, a line secured, and it was lower in the water with a care, that under scored the importance of the mission. He handed the chart to Vancouver, “keep this safe.”

NORVAL JOE

Axelrod tore open the self seals of the pockets at thigh level on his jumpsuit. He slapped them closed again. If anyone shared the remote passageway with him, they might recognize his nervous behavior.
Asstrah said the delivery should happen before three-seventy-five and here it was 4:10, already. An agent was supposed to bring him a vial of die-ethyl-florocarbonate, one of the components used to cook up a batch of the popular stimulant called, ‘dust’.
To Axel’s surprise, a man entered the passage from the connective link wearing a uniform jumpsuit, identifying him as a Galactic Battle Base, security officer.

DUANE

Cook

“Tarnation, Cookie. This is about the best stew I have ever tasted on any drive. It’s like that ambrosia the old gods were a eatin’, or some of that manna they talk about in the good book. I had me a stew in a New York restaurant one time and this stew just plain runs circles aroun’ it. Come on, Cookie, what’s your secret?”

“Well, alright. Ya know how I collect up them buffalo chips all day as make we our way down the trail?”

“Yeah, for stokin’ the cook fire, right?”

“Sure. Right. Who’s ready for seconds? Eat up!”

PLANET Z

After the fire, I needed to replace my birth certificate.
So, I contacted Cook County’s registrar, and they told me to go to their website.
Sure enough, I could order a copy of my birth certificate online.
All I had to do was enter a bunch of information about me.
But what if I ordered somebody else’s birth certificate?
Or someone else order mine?
I mean, how could they prove I was me?
“Oh, that never happens,” said the registrar.
So, I got a copy of the registrar’s birth certificate.
And they’ll be buying a new car… a new house…

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:

• Ginger
• Richard
• Jeffrey
• Charlie
• Jon
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Laieanna
• Duane
• Planet Z

GINGER

How much does a mass transit pass cost these days? The last time I took a subway train from downtown Montreal to the suburb of LaSalle was December 2002. Back then, a monthly transit pass was about $60.— just pay the man, show your card, and you would have no trouble getting from A to Z with very few delays. The seats were formed plastic, not mahogany, and the fluorescent lighting illuminated human flesh with ghostly transparency. Usually I would drink sweetened hibiscus herbal tea from a Mason jar during commutes. One summer, a fellow passenger sitting opposite to me was noted to be wearing cut offs as well as running shoes. He looked tired, old and slumped – this could be confirmed without candling as his mast appendages were hanging freely. Was that worth the price of admission?

It was not really a math problem. Grades 8, 3 and 2 each had triplets. Grades 1, 2 and 4 had two sets of twins. Double cousins and extended families complicated the roster with similar-looking namesakes. Pretty soon, attendance could not be gauged. One never really knew for sure who was present or who was absent. No one would name trouble makers. Teachers peered hopelessly into a sea of multiples. Large eyes leered imperviously back and lied about who was who and what was what or stonewalled. The school registrar faced administrative issues caused by multiple birth households head on. They nixed free enrolment to cover “administrative costs”… each child is now radio-tagged, weighed-in and marked for study on the first day of school.

RICHARD

#1 -The storm

We boarded up the windows, tied down everything we could, sealed ourselves indoors, and waited.

The storm was coming, washing away everything in its path. We had little hope that we stood any chance – if we were lucky, we might not die!

Those with any sense had evacuated, but we were pioneers, made of sterner stuff – although others thought us stubborn idiots. Maybe they were right.

We braced ourselves for the worst as the first methane clouds appeared, whilst joking about the good old days on earth, whose hurricanes were a breeze compared to Jupiter’s advancing Great Storm.

#2 – Bargain?

He was hard to ignore. His hand on my arm gently guiding me through his store, trying to sell me every piece we passed.

I was drawn to a painted mask – then, he was pressing it into my hands. “Mahogany! I carved it myself. Very hard.”

He had me, and he knew it. I asked him, how much.

He wrote a figure – a crazy price, but the game was on – I made a crazy offer back; and we haggled.

Now hanging on my wall, I’ll never know if I got a bargain.

But it was worth it!

JEFFREY

One As Nuts as the Other
by Jeffrey Fischer

When the Southern History Society heard that up north they were tearing down statues of Confederate figures such as Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis and renaming roads and schools named after them, the Society agreed that, if the Yankees could try to erase southern history, they could try to do the same to the north. Any Confederate figure associated with Mr. Lincoln would go, including anything commemorating Grant or, cursed be his name, Sherman.

Sadly, all they could find were tributes to Cary Grant and the Sherman who served with Mr. Peabody in his Wayback Machine. Still, the Society eradicated every one of the tributes. So there!

CHARLIE

9-24-17PICK TWO: Funk, Double-jointed, Ulcer, Mast, Mahogany, Candlestick, Brush, Sherman

I have been in a funk for months. Dating a double-jointed, ulcer afflicted lady did not keep my main mast of straight-grained, mahogany timber upright. A younger woman would keep my candlestick prominent.
Double jointed women have a collagen abnormality and a heightened flight response.

Luckily, I had a brush with Holly Sherman while driving through town this morning. I spotted her sitting on a bench awaiting the school bus. Underage, but she was the answer to my prayers. I couldn’t get the launch of the frigate off my mind. It was like having a stolen chicken in my pants.

2.

9-24-17PICK TWO: Washing, Hope, Downward, Nix, Lie, Thrive, Joy, Rhapsody.

Washing dishes for the Chinese Restaurant gave me no hope at all. I was on another downward spiral. I was told to nix the idea of opening my own, on-line business. I thought I had enough talent to do freelance writing, but I was telling myself a big lie. There was no way I could thrive, and I would find no joy in creating a rhapsody of extravagant samples in order to place ads for my business.

The only semblance of a writing portfolio I had was my pitiful collection of 100 word stories produced weekly for a web site.

TOM

Bend his thumb clear back onto his wrist

A lot of people don’t know this but Sherman was double-jointed. Not the kid with Mr. Peabody, that general dude who did that March to the sea. From November 15 until December 21, 1864, General William T. Sherman led some 60,000 soldiers on a 285-mile march from Atlanta to Savannah, Georgia. Union forces called it the Savannah Campaign. On his orders railroad tracks were ripped up, heated up white hot and wristed into bows. Many a plantation had generations old trees wrapped in Sherman’s neckties. After the war Sherman became one of the first trusties of the University of California

JON

Well, first: funk is a strong offensive smell. Second, it is a state of depression. As a verb it means to avoid a thing out of fear. How did that good old Dutch word get associated with cool, rhythmic dance music?

You’d might as well talk about a double-jointed candlestick or describe Sherman’s march as annoying like an ulcer. It is the mahogany mast of semantic meaning that holds up the sail of language and propels our conversation forward.

After music became funky, programmers felt empowered to brush aside all meaning in assigning new meanings to established words.

Danged Arbalistic!

SERENDIPITY

Only a true artist can create an authentic death mask. One skilled with brush and palette, scalpel, and blade.

Capturing the essence of the departed is a rare skill. You do not merely render the appearance, as in a painting; it must evoke their spirit and soul, capturing the persona, not just the person.

My methods are slightly unorthodox…

I start with a living subject, assisting them in their transition to death: It’s key to capturing that final, essential moment.

Then, like any good artist, I try to get under their skin.

What good is a mask, if never worn?

LIZZIE

Candlestick and Brush sat side by side. They looked quite innocent, I must admit. However, the mess in the kitchen was the proof that they had been busy all night. As I stood there, my index finger pointing at them, their big round eyes staring at me, I couldn’t help wondering how they had managed to drag a whole cabbage from inside the fridge onto the counter. When I finished admonishing them, they simply stood up and walked away, as if nothing had happened, their tails swaying in the air. I’m sure they were thinking “the slave will clean it”.

TURA

Double-jointed; Mahogany
———
“I say! Look at this! It’s an 1892 Packeinton with the double-jointed synchronising camshaft! The mahogany and gilt brass fittings are rather a decadent touch, but the arrangement of the compensating tandem brackets on the standing frame would make a Swiss watchmaker jealous.”

“It just looks like a steam engine to me. In a steam engine museum. Where they store steam engines.”

“Have you no romance? This drew carriages that crowned heads of Europe travelled in!”

“I thought you were an anarcholibertarian, or something like that. Now you’re impressed by royalty?”

“Oh, that’s just politics. This is a STEAM ENGINE!”

NORVAL JOE

Though the sound of Astrah’s laugher filled Axel with joy, his hope for success spiralled downward, with the blush of embarrassment washing over his face.
“What makes you think we have sales jobs here?” Astrah asked.
Axel hoped she wouldn’t see through his lie. “A friend told me you might need to move some delicate materials.”
Her golden eyes were a rhapsody when she smiled. Still, she shook her head, “We’re recycling contractors. I hate to nix your enthusiasm. While dealers in contraband may thrive in some places on the Galactic Battle Base, this facility is not one of them.”

LAIEANNA

My words flashed upon walls I walked passed, compelling me to stop,
read, and remember before moving on.

“You are my love,” I had said to my wife three hours before banging another.

“Your money’s in good hands,” I had said pointing at doctored reports
while pocketing their money for my personal gain.

“I won’t hurt you,” I had said as I tightened the cord around her neck
and watched the light leave her eyes.

There were many more. Until I was descending, there were never any
consequences. Now I wondered just how far down in hell I would go.

DUANE

Spring Rain

Looking out the window I saw her hanging clothes on the line. The wind blew her hair and it swirled over her face. She began to smile. Suddenly a cool rain started to fall. The laundry was getting wet and still she smiled. She began to dance. The pouring rain soaked her hair and her clothes and she still she danced. She began to laugh. Dancing and laughing in the spring rain.

When winter has passed and everything awakens with new life, I think of her. Her dancing and laughing around the clothesline. I see her in the spring rain.

PLANET Z

“hope is a lie”
written in blood
over the bed
we followed the trail
of blood
to the bathroom door
turning the knob
opening the door
she was in the tub
the mayor’s daughter
dead
arm draped over the side
what a mess
my partner took out a knife
and stabbed her in the heart
wiping down the handle
“we can’t let it look like suicide”
he called a cleanup crew
offered a hundred bucks
they wanted two hundred
deal
they’d get rid of the words on the wall
total discretion
we’ll get our stories straight
and call it in