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:

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

CHARLIE

Faster than a cat can lick it’s behind. That’s fast, not too fast, not half fast, just fast enough to be efficient, I suppose.

It’s the speed that I assign to my piece-work employees. As they extract the piece from the mold, remove the flashing, and inspect the body of device. I ask that they do it at speed, and that they are consistent with the speed at which they perform the action. If they do not do this, they are removed from the line, beaten, fined a week’s wage, and forced to live in less comfortable housing.

A second offence is a death sentence, or they are exiled to a small island off the coast.

JEFFREY

Reaching the Pinnacle
by Jeffrey Fischer

Steve wasn’t a bright bulb. Everyone knew this – even his mother said he didn’t have a lick of sense. His personality did nothing to overcome his lack of intelligence. He had a volatile temper that, when it erupted, was directed toward anyone who disagreed with him.

Mysteriously, these handicaps did nothing to hinder his career. He became a business tycoon, with almost unimaginable wealth. True, that career had its ups and downs, and the downs were embarrassing. The press loves a winner, but it loves picking on a loser even more.

In the end, despite his limitations, he became president… of a huge software company. Go figure.

RICHARD

Lick

“It’s mostly cosmetic, only needs a lick of paint! “.

I couldn’t agree – the place was clearly riddled with damp, there was a huge structural crack in the back wall and the spongy feel underfoot definitely hinted at woodworm.

Still, the defects gave me a distinct buyer’s advantage and most of the other bidders dropped out pretty early, rather than throw away their cash.

After the deal was sealed, the vendor laughed: “It’ll take more than a lick of paint before moving in!”

“It’s not for me… And I don’t care about the tenants, as long as they pay the rent!”

MUNSI

…on Pub Games
By Christopher Munroe

“Betcha won’t lick that!”

It’s the disgusting game that anyone can play, you simply need to point to a thing, and utter the phrase.

Your opponent, now roped in, must lick, or concede defeat, which for some is nearly impossible, especially after a few drinks.

And trust me, this is not a game anyone plays sober.

I’m good at it, I have almost no impulse control, so to most I’m a formidable opponent.

Though I admit, I’ve lost more than once.

When asked to lick the FLOOR of the party bus, for example, I got while the getting was good…

JON

The Late, Great…

By

Jon DeCles

America needed her Conservatives. They reined things in, kept her Liberals from going too far. They maintained the balance.

Enter the Neo-Con-Artists. They made Conservatism flashy and fashionable: but they also outspent the Liberals thousands to one. They undermined the principals of Conservatism, and left the true Conservatives looking dusty and dowdy.

Barnum said there’s a fool born every minute, and two crooks to take him.

Barnum and Bailey has folded, unable to compete with the Circus in Washington.

Ronald Reagan is best remembered for taking down a wall.

Donald Trump may be best remembered for putting up a wall.

**

You Can’t Lick Our Dick

By

Jon DeCles

Well, that was not officially Nixon’s slogan, and it certainly was belied by his loss to John F. Kennedy in a race for the presidency, and his loss for the governorship of California to Pat Brown. But the man had resilience!

He ran for president again in ’68 and won. He ended the draft. He opened trade with China. He initiated an anti-ballistic missile treaty. He transferred power from the central control of Washington back to the States. He enforced desegregation and established the Environmental Protection Agency. He was president when we landed on the moon.

He was a Republican.

TOM

Lick

Being a child of the 50s I am bracketed between Elvis and the Beatles. I wish I could say the Stones, but alas I didn’t get a vote in the meme. By the time KISS showed up it was way to indecorous to lay a musical claim on the band. So in the passing days and nights I never heard a single KISS song until … Lick it Up. Well what can I say? Brilliant, the high-water mark in Western Civilization. Everything that went before just silly little love songs. Please pass the white grease paint. Black Shamrock what’ya think?

SERENDIPITY

I watched the flames lick the coals in the grate, painting their flickering, insubstantial images in the darkness, like a story unfolding before me.

It seemed to me they were speaking to me, the crackle of the flames whispering secrets in my mind and compelling me to respond.

“Burn!” They seemed to say; “Burn it all… Burn everything to the ground”

It was a voice that could not be ignored; one that I simply had to obey.

I’m sorry about your house, but really I’m afraid that it’s all your fault. I always said you should have fitted central heating!

LIZZIE

Late, as always.
Her pathetic little assistant, buzzing with enthusiasm for his new job and who had the annoying habit of licking his fingers to turn every page of every report, had proven to be quite the slacker.
When she entered her office, nothing was done. Unacceptable. The problem was that the eccentric middle-aged man now owned half the company. She’d have to get rid of him, but how?
Pushing him down the stairs? Too obvious. Hiring someone to get rid of him? Too expensive.
Then, mysteriously, he became quite ill.
They say reading reports is hazardous to your health.

NORVAL JOE

When Wanda accepted the position of Tiger Trainer at the Morganstern Brother’s Circus, she assured the Ring Master, that she had an almost telepathic empathy with animals, and that she wouldn’t need to use a whip on the large cats, as the previous trainer had.
“Watch this,” she said and walked fearlessly into the cage with the tigers and held out her bare arms for them to lick. “Seeee? They’re showing me how much they love me.”
And they did love her. Every ounce. The three tigers ate everything but her sequined costume and the red ribbon in her hair.

LAIEANNA

“If they say jump off a bridge, will you?” his mother asked, “or stand in front of an oncoming train? And if they dare you to stick your finger in the mouth of a snapping turtle, are you going to do that?” Max only offered up a shrug she was too furious to notice. “Why would you lick a metal pole in winter?”

Stuck lying in the hospital bed after his incident, Max snuck a hand down to shake his pocket. Three quarters and a Snickers weren’t bad rewards. If they upped the ante, he would consider the other stunts.

TURA

Lick
———
On the plains of Audhumla, a shower of rain is rare and passes in minutes, hardly more than dampening the ground. But the petrichor brings creatures from far and wide to lick the minerals leached from the broken grey slabs. The glabbeeks come first, lizards no larger than a finger, that can travel miles to reach the lick. Then the girondelles, nervous of predators, but hungry for the minerals they need. And certainly the feloids will arrive and pick off one or two of the herd, and the scavengers will have their share.

Thus life on Earth continues, after Man.

PLANET Z

I knew a girl who hired herself out as an assassin.
She got the job done, and got out. Nothing fancy.
Usually, she’d pay some homeless guy to shoot her target, or shove them under a bus.
Walk into a public restroom, stuff the wig into a purse, wipe off the makeup, turn her jacket inside-out, and she’d walk out a different person.
She didn’t do anything fancy or sexy, like licking her gun.
“That’s a great way to shoot off your tongue,” she said.
One day, she’ll kill me to cover her tracks.
“Free of charge,” she says, smiling.

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:

• Charlie
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Munsi
• Serendipity
• Lizzie
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

CHARLIE

Sorry I’m late all the time. You wait for me, regardless of my habitual tardiness. It is the least you can do, since I’m superior to the whole frigging bunch of you. After all, you are, undoubtedly, a bunch of sleaze balls and miscreants, hell bent on causing any number of problems and harm to the good people of the county-just as I am.

Of course, I have to iron my sheet and touch up the edges on my Bowie knife in addition to gathering matches and small bottles of flammables for our nightly foray into the outskirts of town.

JEFFREY

Teen Angel
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sara snuck out of her bedroom window, scrambling onto the porch roof and lowering herself to the ground. It was late at night. Her parents were assuredly sleeping, but they seemed to have an uncanny sense for waking just as she passed their door, hence the dangerous exit.

A boy was involved; of course a boy was involved. She had met this one at a house party, a long-haired, heavily-tattooed interloper. No one seemed to know him, making Sara all the more smitten. She instantly agreed when he suggested the tryst.

Her parents tried not to worry when they noticed her missing the next morning. Soon Sara’s body was discovered. She had earned the title of the late Sara.

RICHARD

#1 – Late

I’ve never been particularly good when it comes to being on time, I’m invariably the last to arrive at parties, regularly miss trains, and frequently arrive late for important appointments.

I’m always being told off: It’s disrespectful, they say, you really should make the effort to be on time, especially considering your profession.

And what is my profession?

I’m an undertaker, and yes, I’m never on time, (the dead don’t really care!)

My friends have always laughed at me for about my timekeeping and say I’d be late for my own funeral.

Probably… I’ve been late for everybody else’s!

#2 – Shirley: Him

Shirley was late.

It was unlike her. She always finished at six, took the same bus home and her key would turn in the lock twenty minutes later.

He sat uncomfortably, as the tea he’d made her grew cold and undrinkable in its cup.

By eleven, he was frantic.

He’d called her friends and mother: None had heard from her. Now he was phoning around the local hospitals, but drawing a complete blank.

It was early hours the following morning when he finally dialled the police and heard himself say the fateful words: “I need to report a missing person.”

#3 – Shirley: The Other

Shirley was late.

It was unlike her. She always arrived at five, and it was worrying – considering the circumstances – that she hadn’t turned up.

He tried to relax, she’d be here shortly. He breathed deeply waiting for her key to turn in the lock.

By eleven, he was frantic.

He had a severe cramp, and could barely breathe. Things were not looking good.

It was the early hours of the following morning that the heart attack came.

When they found him, bound and chained in the gimp suit, it seemed hardly worth holding the inquest.

Death: by misadventure.

#4 – Shirley: Her

Shirley was late.

It was unlike her. But life was unpredictable, and hers was such a tangled mess it scarcely mattered if she missed the bus, or never turned up at all.

Sure, people were waiting for her; relying on her, but she felt no connection – only pain, anger and self-loathing.

So, it had come to this.

By eleven she’d arrived – a second rate motel in a backwater town. Calmly she ran the bath and reached for the razor blade.

By the early hours the following morning, it was over.

She was late… The late Shirley Elizabeth Swinton.

TOM

Just a Matter of Scope

Later that evening Sam and Lenny rolled the body bag into the river. “Don’t be late, now,” they laughed. Later that week Benny and Max drove Lenny and Sam’s car into the same river. “Don’t be late, now,” they laughed. Later that month Jimmy and Sal sent Lenny’s piper cub into the west river. “Don’t be late, now,” they laughed. Later that year Don Vito Demonte pored sixty ton of concrete into the same river “Don’t be late, Jimmy,” he laughed. The mushroom cloud pretty much vaporized the river. “Don’t be late, Vito,” said the old man in the wheelchair.

MUNSI

The Meeting
By Christopher Munroe

John, welcome, I’m glad you could finally join us, and you’re fired.

What do you mean: Why?

First of all, you’re fifty-five minutes late after I’d made it perfectly clear that our foreign investors were visiting today, and that I wanted to give the best possible impression.

Secondly, you reek of whiskey.

And finally, perhaps most damningly, I’m assuming you arrived in the “Party Bus” parked outside, blaring Dubstep as we speak.

Obviously there’s no place for this kind of behavior in…

…sorry, what?

ALL your lotto numbers hit?

Oh!

Well, in that event I suppose congratulations are in order!

SERENDIPITY

It is late.

Almost midnight now; just a minute or two remaining.

Then it is too late.

And afterwards?

All that has gone before, all the striving and endeavour will come to nothing. The hope, the joy; all that is great and good will turn to terror and pain, horror and despair.

Almost midnight now, just seconds away.

What have we achieved? What is our legacy? What epitaph will be spoken over our funeral pyre… And who will mourn our passing?

It is late.

And the hands of the Doomsday clock march relentlessly towards the midnight hour.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

NORVAL JOE

Bill slipped into the chapel and sat on the back pew, not wanting to disturb any of the family and friends who were considerate enough to arrive on time.
The eulogy was already in progress. He’d missed his niece’s rendition of “How Great Thou Art”. She was only sixteen but her voice had the maturity and depth of a much older singer.
The minister completed his thoughts. The organist began to play and, as the pall bearers carried the coffin passed his wife, she placed a bouquet of roses cut from his own garden on it; just as he’d asked.

LIZZIE

They were late.
“What now?” Ron sat on a rock.
Peter kicked the grass. He was furious.
“We keep looking.”
“Where? In there?” Ron stood up.
Peter walked up to the small cabin and kicked the door open.
“They didn’t take the jewel box with them. It’d be too dangerous. Look, a trap door.”
It was barely covered by some debris.
“Let’s get it and take off.”
A bright pair of green eyes stared back at them.
“Damn… Didn’t they say it was a box?”
The jewel was the 10 year old heir of the biggest fortune in the country.

TURA

Late
———
Travelling with Jim was a nightmare. I’d say, come on, we’ve a train to catch, and he’d say, we still have time. That’s right, I’d say, so we go now, and we catch the train. And he’d say, what’s the hurry, we’ve time.

He always had time, so he never had time.

He once got cancer, and he was in a pretty bad way. When the doctors said he wouldn’t make it, someone jumped the gun and put a death notice in the local paper. In the end he recovered. I guess you can be late to your own funeral.

PLANET Z

Fred worked at an office equipment company.
His job title was Punchclock Quality Control.
So, even when he was late to work, he was actually on time.
He was just testing the punchclock’s tardy algorithms.
He also took a lot of vacations to test the Time Management Application.
It was important to confirm that the system reported employees who ran out of vacation time, but still took time off.
One day, he showed up for work on time.
The system crashed.
“FAIL” he marked on the case, and sent it back to Development.
And he left for an early lunch.