The dreamer dreams.
The inventor invents.
The designer designs.
The developer develops.
The modeler models.
The maker makes.
The builder builds.
The tester tests.
The fixer fixes.
The planner plans.
The investor invests.
The producer produces.
The manufacturer manufactures.
The marketer markets.
The advertiser advertises.
The publisher publishes.
The packer packs.
The shipper ships.
The driver drives.
The trucker trucks.
The stocker stocks.
The pricer prices.
The seller sells.
The shopper shops.
The buyer buys.
The consumer consumes.
The user uses.
The sleeper sleeps.
The dancer dances.
The writer writes.
The painter paints.
The wisher wishes.
And the dreamer dreams.
Devil’s advocate
I like to argue. I argue constantly.
I argue so much, people call me The Devil’s Advocate.
So much so, that The Devil himself hired me as his advocate.
The job pays well, since he’s always got an opinion on things, and people are constantly asking for it.
It could be worse. I could be The Devil’s Barber. That guy has to cut around the horns, but still make The Devil look stylish.
And The Devil’s Tailor need to design pants that take into account the barbed tail and the cloven hooves.
Let’s not talk about The Devil’s Proctologist, okay?
Fred’s word
Fred’s word isn’t worth the paper it’s written on.
Even when it’s really expensive paper. You know, that high-falootin fancy stuff with weights and bonds and low-acid that they sell at the shop in the mall.
What if he uses really expensive ink, too? Because that shop down at the mall sells all kinds of fancy inks to go along with the fancy paper.
Same thing. Fred’s word ain’t worth that, either.
So, what is Fred’s word worth?
Well, let me check… it’s on a double word score, and the X is worth eight points…
Okay, it’s worth thirty points.
Weekly Challenge #576 – CIRCUS
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:
TOM
1957
When I was young there was a program called Circus Boy. It stared Micky Dolenz who later shared led vocals with the Davy Jones (which is how we got David Bowe ) in that TV Chimera band the Monkies. Circus Boy was an orphan who took care of an elephant and had cool adventures. It pretty much inspired every boomer kid to long to run away and join the circus. Those were simpler times, a reboot of Circus Boy would take place in post-trumpian dystopian sort of Mad Max meets the Ringling Brothers. Maybe they could get Dolenz to play Joey.
JON
The Circus Has Come and Gone
By Jon DeCles
The Great Circus has come and now is gone.
We were not as smart then. We didn’t know that many animals were people. We didn’t know that many humans were people. We treated elephants and slaves with equal parts cruelty and stupidity. We escaped the disease and war that wrecked out own lives by laughing and cheering at the risks and ruins of the colorfully clad lives before us. For a couple of hours a year our lives could be rose-tinted, and it made us safe from our trouble and pain.
For that, we truly loved our distracting great circus.
CHARLIE
No ordinary circus, but the yearly backyard circus for the kid’s birthday. We invited Sparky The Clown and his wife, Nada. They specialized in site gags, clever patter, live mice, snakes, and fire gags.
The first casualty was the back fence, taken down to the corner posts with the first fire gag. The second casualty was grandma, who fainted when she saw the boa take two live mice into its jaws in the first few minutes of the show.
Sparky got a little drunk, sneaking drinks from his flask, and diddled the wife while she barbecued the fat, Polish sausages.
JEFFREY
No One Goes to the Circus Any More
by Jeffrey Fischer
The circus came to town. It was sold out. The children loved all the acts, from the trapeeze artists to jugglers to clowns, but especially tigers and elephants performing tricks. PETA organized a boycott, saying it was cruel to cage tigers.
The next year, the circus again came to town. It was well-attended, even though the circus had sold the tigers. PETA boycotted again, complaining it was demeaning to make elephants perform tricks.
The next year, the circus made its annual appearance. With no animal acts, kids didn’t want to go. Attendance was poor. The circus came no longer. Children coud only dream about the joy of seeing tigers and elephants. But to PETA, a child’s joy meant nothing.
RICHARD
#1 – Circus
This place is becoming a circus!
The boss is useless – barking commands and cracking the whip, whilst the managers are a bunch of clowns, running around in circles, falling over their feet and making a complete mess. As for me, I’m juggling priorities and jobs, trying not to drop the ball.
I feel like I’m walking a tightrope, and no safety net: Screw up just once and you’ll find yourself in the lion’s den.
So, I’m looking for a new job. Either that, or I’ll run away to join the circus… Well, I reckon I’m qualified for it already!
#2 – Autocorrected
You’ve got to watch autocorrect – a simple slip can cause all sorts of unexpected results. I put an advertisement in the local paper to try and recruit new students: It was remarkably successful, although the recruits weren’t quite what I’d expected.
I knew something was up when the first clowns started to arrive. Within a week, I had a motley collection of sword swallowers, trapeze artists and lion tamers, and frankly, they weren’t at all impressed with the programme I’d arranged for them to follow.
Next time I’ll proofread the ad… It was circuit training, you idiots, not circus!
LIZZIE
What a Circus
Four men entered the Carnival grounds and shot a few rounds left and right before robbing the cash register in the souvenirs stand. Luckily, they didn’t hurt anyone. Sophie, however, wasn’t happy. She pulled on her father’s hand, wide-eyed. The 5-year old pointed at the carousel, a big hole on the thigh of one of the horses. The father nodded. When the robbers were arrested, they were sick to their stomachs. Sophie’s father, with the help of other by-standers, had tied them up to the colorful horses, heads down, and made them go a few rounds, left and right.
SERENDIPITY
Roll up and welcome, to my Circus of Horrors!
Dare to step inside and see sights to confound you; observe mysteries beyond belief.
Behold, the bearded baby, the rat tailed woman and the three headed maiden. Marvel at Cockroach Boy, gasp in horror at the skinless girl, and puzzle over Mr Back to Front.
And then, I invite you to step through the far curtain, beyond which lies a sterile room, and a nurse with a hypodermic syringe.
And it is there I shall work my very special brand of surgery, upon you… My newest, and most peculiar exhibit yet!
TURA
Circus
———
On Pearl Street, I saw a juggler entertaining a crowd with 5-club back-crosses.
Cirque du Soleil were in town, so I asked, “Are you with Cirque?”
“That’s a story!” he answered, starting double Mills Mess. “This friend of mine, joins the Cirq. 12 hours training every day, 3 performances every night. Lasted 18 months, never juggled again.”
He began a seven ball cascade. There’s not many can do that.
“Don’t get me wrong, they’re top class. Go see them! But I got freedom!”
He nudged his upturned hat towards the crowd. “Save me from having to work for the Cirq!”
———
NORVAL JOE
My girlfriend surprised me when she suddenly stormed out of the bedroom and shouted at me, “I can’t take it here anymore. I’m leaving. Living with you is a circus.”
‘”I’m sorry, Babe,” I said to her, putting down my juggling balls. “I know I said the Borzshinski Brothers would only be here for a few days. I’ll get rid of them, and their dancing bear.”
“It’s too late,” she said, picking up our pet poodle. “And I’m taking the dog.”
Resigned, I gave her Fifi’s pink tutu and said, “You’d better take this, too. She won’t perform without it.”
LAIEANNA
Though she made the decision late in life, Sally’s choice for a circus
retirement seemed reasonable to her. It held the prospect of
adventure and excitement. All she was leaving behind was a cat who
barely tolerated her, a half empty apartment, and a monotonous job.
They let her in, but with no talent, Sally showed no promise and was
given something to suit her strengths. Still alone, still secluded,
she spent her days repeating her task – handing out tickets.
The moral? It doesn’t always pay to runaway to the circus. Sometimes
your escape is still just the mundane.
MUNSI
Clown Bus
By Christopher Munroe
You can fit a dozen clowns into a mid-sized car.
Car-clowning, fitting clowns into a clown-car, is a specific discipline in the clowning community, but one that’s still taught, and still a crowd-pleaser even after all these years.
I don’t remember why we decided to see how many clowns would fit on our party-bus. Drinks were involved, we were feeling boisterous after a lovely day at the circus, and it seemed like a good idea at the time…
319, in case you were wondering.
Four of whom travel with us still.
Though they wound up trashing the bus.
No regrets.
PLANET Z
I like circuses.
The ones with elephants and clowns and lions and tigers.
And motorcycles in a big round steel cage, where they go round and round.
Nowadays, a circus is a bunch of French-Canadians bouncing on trampolines with laser shows and weird costumes and sets.
Or some stoned hippie sitting by the side of the road, offering to take you on a trip through the circus of your mind.
I tried it once. And when the acid kicked in, the trip was really cool.
But I woke up robbed of everything but my underwear.
Worst Groupon I’ve ever bought.
Psychic
If you think you’re a psychic, here’s a simple test:
Get a hundred boxes, and have someone put a loaded gun in 99 of them.
In the hundredth box, have them put an unloaded gun.
Then, use your psychic powers to find the box with the unloaded gun.
After you select that box, take out the gun, put it to your head, and pull the trigger.
If the gun doesn’t go off, you’re psychic.
If the gun goes off, you might still be psychic.
You can still prove that you are telekinetic. Bend the bullet’s trajectory away from your brain.
Full speed
When I do my treadmill walks, I don’t start at full speed. I start slowly, but hit the Faster button over the course of the walk.
You know, like that frog in a pan of water on the stove. Drop the frog in boiling water, and it jumps out. But if you turn the heat on slowly, the frog gets boiled alive.
So, I hit the Faster button. Over and over.
I’m going faster than I would if I had started out going fast.
So fast, time and space begin to melt.
I hope this is covered by the warranty.
Shake a stick at
Why are you using a calculator for your Math homework?
Don’t you know that doesn’t exercise your brain at all?
Back in my day, we didn’t use calculators for Math problems.
We used sticks. To shake at things we counted.
Counting the first few things was easy.
But after a while your arm would get tired.
That’s when you knew when you had too many things to shake a stick at.
I knew a kid who could hold a stick in either hand for shaking at things.
He got sent to reform school for clubbing the Math teacher to death.
Movers and shakers
Some people like the jet-set crowd, and others want to be among the movers-and-shakers.
Not me.
Keep me away from the jet-set. I get airsick easily.
And those movers-and-shakers are real jerks.
Sure, they give you FRAGILE and GLASS stickers to put on the boxes, but do they read them?
No. They pick up the boxes, shake ’em really hard, and then put them on the truck.
Or, if they’re in a hurry, they’ll put them on the truck, and when they get to your new place, they’ll shake the boxes.
I’ll just rent a U-Haul and do it myself.
The dinner party
If I could throw a dinner party for ten, anyone in history, alive or dead, who would they be?
My cat Nardo. I loved to lay on the kitchen floor and watch him eat. I think I have a Youtube movie or two of him eating.
Oh, and my cat Piper. Sometimes, they’d eat off of the same plate, and she’d swat him.
And Bruwyn, the baby panther. I miss him so much.
And then there’s my grandmother.
Oh, she’s still alive.
But considering how all she eats these days is cat food, I wouldn’t have to change the menu.
Atomic Number 80 – Laieanna
Under the bright moonlight, Alan found Randy thrashing around in mucky
water that came up to his chest.
“Randy! What are you doing?”
Randy paused, pointed to the water, then violently banged his head
forward and back.
Alan sighed. “I said we were going to a mosh pit, not marsh. We’ve
been waiting for you.”
“Oh.” Randy put a wet hand to lips in thought.
“Concert’s over, man.”
“Oh,” Randy said again. He sank down until the water came to his
chin. “Guess, I’ll just mellow out here.”
Alan rolled his eyes. “You have got to lay off the hash.”