Our patio is surrounded by a tall wooden fence.
Jasmine used to grow for thirty feet along the fence, but the fence was damaged during Hurricane Ike.
The apartment complex tore down the fence and replaced it, killing the jasmine.
It’s taken us six years to grow jasmine along one section of the fence, but it wants to grow up the building, not along the rest of the fence.
So, I cut back the vines that climb the building, and staplegun other vines to grow along the rest of the fence.
It’s like Homer Simpson’s combover.
And just as futile.
Weekly Challenge #550- Watch
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:
JEFFREY
On Time
by Jeffrey Fischer
He looked at his watch once again. He should have understood: she had never been on time for an event in her life; the more important the event, the later she would be. Before the prom, he made small talk with her father for a half hour. At their wedding, he joked with his best man that she was more than an hour late, so the wedding was off. Dinner parties or nights out were good for a 20-minute wait.
Now he received word that the hearse had broken down on the interstate and it wouldn’t arrive for hours. Yes, she was late to her own funeral.
RICHARD
“Watch out for that second corner, it’s a killer”, my mechanics warned me – unfortunately, I was so busy watching out for the second corner, I spun out, crashed and burned at the first!
I switched jobs – “Watch out for the Area Manager, he’s devious”, my colleagues warned. I did, and failed to spot my own manager’s plans to get me fired for his mistakes!
“Watch out for that guy”, said the tramp at the bus stop, then stole my wallet whilst I was distracted.
You want my advice? Watch out for anyone who tells you to watch out.
MUNSI
Watched
By Christopher Munroe
Ever get the feeling that you’re being watched?
The notion that someone, somewhere, even if you can’t figure out who or where they are, or why they would bother, is keeping tabs on you? The idea that your every move is being tracked?
You aren’t being paranoid, that’s exactly what’s happening. You really are being watched.
It’s you, from the future, remembering the experiences of your past, which you are living in now.
Future You is watching what you do every minute of every day.
You’re being watched via Future You’s memories.
So try not to do anything too embarrassing…
TOM
Nothing New Under the Sun
They came to observe, forever watching without interacting. Epoch to epoch noting every subtle change on this shinny blue rock. The monkey people were no less brutal as the lizard people, or no less invasive as the cellular folk. But when the monkey people started talking the Watchers became the Writers. When the monkey people started writing the Writers went back to being the Watchers. As the waters rose the cellular folk pretty much took out the monkey people. The few who survived stopped writing, then stopped talking. The Watchers didn’t miss the monkey people they had new stuff to watch.
SERENDIPITY
It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.
Don’t worry too much about the ones who shout and scream, make threats and curse. They’re harmless enough, just a lot of noise and bravado. If you stand up to them and show you’re not afraid and they’ll back down soon enough.
But the quiet ones… You never quite know what is going on behind those empty eyes.
These are the plotters and planners; the wicked thinkers and deceivers; the psychopaths, maniacs and serial killers. These are the ones whose silence always masks their true intent.
And I’m the quietest of the lot!
ZACKMANN
I never liked wearing a watch because they would always slip to an uncomfortable place on my wrist when I did manual labor. I tried railroad style watches but the ones I was will to pay for would go into reset mode in my pocket.
After getting smartphones I would check time on them or just check Twitter or Facebook then forget to look at the time.
Recently my wife bought me this steampunk inspired skeleton watch. Now I look at my wrist, think “What cool watch.” then take my smartphone out of my pocket to look at the time.
LIZZIE
Those watchful eyes knew the time had come for things to change. Drowned in doubt, she weighed the terrible consequences. Then she opened the window. It was a bright winter day. The sun was shining. She smiled, packed her bag and looked at the watch he had given her for her birthday. When he beat her up, she used to watch the minutes go by, just passively waiting for him to stop. She used to add them up too. She placed the watch on the table and smashed it. Then, she opened her front door and entered a new life.
NORVAL JOE
Mickey settled down on a tree branch to watch the activities around the hideout and wait for morning. Cherry Cola and Ferret stood by the back of a black minivan, the only vehicle nearby.
.
He couldn’t believe that Cherry Cola had sold him out for a second time. Even more, he couldn’t believe he was going to ask her why she had.
.
He crept through the treetops until he clung to a trunk ten feet behind the two girls. Holding his monkey shorts in his hand, blocked by the trunk, he transformed, and whispered, “Cherry. What are you doing here?”
TURA
Watch
———
Medjool the Watcher stands at the Gate of the World. The centuries crowd there, eager for admittance. But Medjool decides.
In Aegypt, Medjool let a handful of centuries play for three thousand years, then let newer centuries sweep them away. In the Southern Continent, Medjool allowed a single century forty millennia, then banished it to the void.
The centuries come so fast now, that each brings some new wonder into the world. Some say that Medjool no longer stands watch, and the centuries press through the Gate pell-mell. Surely the Fûm is upon us, the chaotic end of all things.
PLANET Z
I challenged myself to watch every episode of The Simpsons television series.
There are a lot of celebrities who are now dead that lent their voices to the series, such as Rodney Dangerfield, Michael Jackson, and George Carlin.
Most of the core cast is still alive, but some performers behind beloved characters aren’t.
Marcia Wallace, who voiced Bart’s teacher, died recently.
And Phil Hartman, who was murdered by his wife, Brynn in a crazy drug-fueled murder-suicide.
Andy Dick was the guy who reintroduced Brynn to cocaine.
Later on, in Season 18, Andy guest-starred.
Sadly, he’s still alive.
That fucking jerk.
The Last Laugh
Freddy told the crudest jokes. He never pulled any punches.
Especially when it was a celebrity who died, or some awful national tragedy.
TOO SOON! people would say, or tweet.
How soon is okay? A day? A week? A year?
That’s when a stray tachyon particle struck his long term memory center.
Freddy’s awful jokes came before the stuff actually happened.
Now, they weren’t just too soon, but more sick than funny.
Until these things actually happened.
HOLY FUCK! people would say. HOW THE FUCK DID YOU KNOW?
Freddy never responded. He’d hung himself, laughing.
The first and last laugh.
Beer Rain
Sometimes I drink beer from a can, other times I drink beer from a bottle.
But the civilized thing to do is drink beer from a glass. Pour that beer from the can, the bottle, or the keg into a proper glass, and drink it that way.
Drinking the beer that rains down from the sky is not considered civilized. Only boors tip their heads back to drink, or wring out their garments into their mouths.
Raw, unprocessed beer is vile.
Let it flow into the drains, and get filtered in the processing stations.
Better safe than sorry, kid.
Cheers!
Bitey bites
Mosquitoes tend to bite people who perspire more carbon dioxide.
The more you release through your skin, the more they bite.
Aside from wearing skintight clothes or toxic levels of insect repellent, you’re pretty much screwed if you’re a heavy carbon dioxide releaser. Like Fred.
Fred volunteered for polar exploration duty to get away from the damned things, and for once in his life, he was free of little red welts, itching, and disgusting chemicals on his skin.
Sure it was cold as fuck, but he didn’t care.
Until he fell into a crevasse and was never seen alive again.
Struck
Some people get starstruck when they see a celebrity.
But do people get gueststarstruck? Or specialgueststarstruck?
What’s that like?
I can’t imagine someone getting alsostarringstruck.
Or, I suppose, featuringstruck, secondunitditectorstruck, associateproducerstruck, or keygripstruck.
That stuff might fascinate someone or lead to an interesting conversation, but it doesn’t match up with being starstruck.
Not in the least.
Once, I was stuntcoordinatorstruck. Literally. A stunt coordinator struck me.
I suppose I should have ducked sooner.
But I wasn’t paying attention, and pow!
Now that I think of it, he should have pulled his punch.
He wasn’t much of a stunt coordinator, really.
Vote Against
This upcoming election doesn’t really give many choices.
I don’t feel like voting for either candidate.
Voting for one ends is really just a vote against the other.
I feel like staying home, but each candidate’s supporters say that it’s a vote for the other candidate.
The truth is, staying home is a vote for my cat, who likes it when I stay home and lay on the couch so she can snuggle up against me.
And if I don’t use time off or sick time, or pretend to do some work from home, it’s a vote for unemployment, too.
Delayed
Give a kid a marshmallow, and then tell them that if they don’t eat it while you’re out of the room, you’ll give them two marshmallows.
This is a famous test of delayed gratification.
I remember the studies. I remember the psychologist standing over me, holding out the marshmallow.
“I don’t like marshmallows,” I told him.
“Well, what do you like?” he asked me.
It took three orderlies to pry my hands from his throat.
Oh, how I love to strangle scientists.
I guess I didn’t want to wait for him to bring a second psychologist for me to strangle.
Weekly Challenge #549 – Halloween Special
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:
MUNSI
The Reason for the Season
By Christopher Munroe
It’s not about candy.
I’m a grown-assed man, if I want candy I’ll have candy. I have money.
Similarly, it’s not the costumes.
I mean, a little, but not really. I already wear what I like, and I’m unselfconscious enough that what I like gets weird if I want it to.
It’s the sense of community. The fact that, once a year, my local goth bar’s going to be packed. It’s sharing a moment, however briefly, with the world, knowing that today everyone’s on the same page as me.
It’s about other people listening to Oingo Boingo too.
Happy Halloween!
JEFFREY
Lights Out
by Jeffrey Fischer
As soon as the sun falls below the horizon, the ghouls sprout on the sidewalks. At first they come one at a time, wee things in sheets or tiaras and glitter, bags of candy thrust shyly toward the door. Parents offer encouragement from a few feet away. The next wave comprises packs of giggling tweens, more assertive than their younger counterparts but still respectful of the process. The occasional parent loiters in the street, keeping a watchful eye on things.
I try to give the little kids a small scare – creepy music, skeletal hands that give out candy – but when the packs of marauding teenagers arrive, it’s my turn to be scared. I shut off the lights and hide until they’ve all gone home.
RICHARD
Halloween… again
I hate Halloween: All those bratty kids demanding treats, and equally annoying parents encouraging the ungrateful monsters!
Every year it’s the same – I draw the curtains, lock the doors, switch off the lights, and open the whisky.
A prisoner in my own home.
Thank goodness it’s only one night a year – I couldn’t stand any more than that.
At least, when I wake in the morning with a crippling hangover, I can reflect on that.
And then, it’s down to the off-licence for more whisky…
Well, I’ve got to be ready for Christmas, and those damned carol singers!
LISA
Pumpkin
We didn’t have Halloween here when I was young. But now my son wants the house decorating, which I’m fine with, there’s certainly no shortage of cobwebs.
It’s the Pumpkin that stumps me. We look online for tips. He sees the design he likes and I weep inside at the intricate detailing on the devil’s furrowed brow.
So, I start while he’s at school.
And later as he and a pal test the treats they’re impressed with my handiwork. They can’t believe how realistic the blood staining the pumpkin flesh looks whilst both fail to notice my hastily bandaged hand.
TOM
I Want To Be a Hobo This Year.
When your little Halloween participation seems like an infinite given. A life time of going door to door to get free CANDY. How great is America. But in reality you got 7 years tops to cash in. When you reach that threshold you shift into the role of kid sister wrangler. But all that is good for is another four year. Sure handing out candy as an adult derives a curtain adult satisfaction. But does it really fulfil that empty Halloween longing. Sigh. Think I’ll just put a pillowcase over my head and drain this bag of mini three musketeers
JON
The Circus Turns
By Jon DeCles
Halloween. Los Angeles. Skid Row. Look it up, it’s a ‘hood, on the map. The Year of the Creepy Clowns, providing every would-be serial killer a chance to play in disguise. Staggering stoned down the old railroad tracks, a lone goth girl, maybe fourteen, black hair, black lipstick, black lace and leather. Black eye makeup. The clowns close in, a mutiny of them, all kinds of knives at the ready, each wanting to be first. She sees them circling. She pulls out a can opener, sharpened, flips open her straight razor.
“Do I get to cut someone now?” she asks
SERENDIPITY
Wake up, Lucy; wake up, Timmy – it’s time for your special annual outing!
You’ve been such good children this year that you can have all the candy you can collect – just as long as you’re polite and you don’t frighten the neighbours quite as much as last year!
Now, hurry along and get ready, and then as soon as it gets dark you can go outside.
Just remember the Golden Rule…
You must be back by ten o’clock, so I can get you both back down to the cellar before bedtime.
And there you’ll stay until next year!
LIZZIE
“There’s a creepy clown behind you. No one will survive. The clown is lifting his arm. Food, food. He’s hungry for you. Forget the time. The time. The time. Time…”
They looked over their shoulders and couldn’t see any clown but this was to be a “horrifying experience” said the brochure, so they thought it was all part of the show.
Suddenly, the room went dark. A dreadful slashing sound… Peter laughed nervously.
When the lights were back on, he was the only one alive.
The Ouija board slowly wrote “Congratulations. Your ticket had a special prize. Come back soon!”
TURA
Halloween
———
“What’s the scariest thing you can think of?” I said slyly.
“Monsters!” they replied. “Zombies!” “Vampires!”
“Use your imaginations!” I said. “How about poisonous mushrooms, that dissolve your body from within, and you turn into a puddle of green slime! Can you imagine something worse?”
“Caterpillars that burrow into your ears and eat your brains!”
“Giant wasps, like those icknew-whatsits in biology class. They lay their eggs in you and you’re eaten by the wasp maggots and you’re awake the whole time and you can’t move–”
The class had just about frightened themselves to tears. Time to release the tarantulas!
———
PLANET Z
I bought a pumpkin for Halloween, but I never got around to carving it.
So, I pulled out a marker and drew a scary face on the pumpkin.
I admit, that’s lame, but it actually looked kinda cool, even though it didn’t light up or anything.
It wasn’t messy at all, and it kept its shape through October nicely.
After Halloween, I opened up the pumpkin and harvested the pulp to make fresh pumpkin pie.
The seeds, I roasted and salted.
Maybe instead of carving a turkey for Thanksgiving and making a mess, I’ll just draw one on the pan.
The Ugly Stick
When Grampa sees an ugly girl, he says “She must have been beaten with The Ugly Stick.”
Which, back in his day, was a real stick.
The City Uglifier would go from door to door, beating girls with The Ugly Stick until they were ugly.
These days, there is no more City Uglifier. The position was eliminated due to budget cuts.
The Ugly Stick is on display at City Hall, in a locked glass cabinet.
However, it’s not a very secure lock, because occasionally, you’ll see an ugly girl.
Grampa puts a finger to his lips, says SSSSSSSSSH!, and winks.