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:

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

JEFFREY

I’m with the Band
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sally played the oboe. She wanted to play in the high school marching band, but the band had no need for her instrument. Mr. Ryan, the director, suggested she learn another one. “How about the xylophone?” asked Sally. Mr. Ryan looked at her chest – in a purely professional way, of course. He wasn’t certain this would work, but gave his assent.

At band practice, some of the boys laughed as Sally tried to strap on the bulky instrument over her breasts. Mr. Ryan told her not to let those boobs bother her. “Er, I mean the boys, of course,” he clarified.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Sally and her xylophone were the hit of the season.

Spelling Counts
by Jeffrey Fischer

“The world is shrinking” is a cliche, but the globe doesn’t seem like it’s lost any size when one is stuck on an airplane. An old friend sent a mysterious text to meet him at the Frankfurt airport, so I hopped on the next flight out. When I staggered off, bleary-eyed, I couldn’t find him in the waiting area. I texted: “In Frankfurt – where are you?”

His reply was quick: “Am a little west of you. In Kentucky. Damn autocorrect changed the ‘o’ to a ‘u’.”

I’m sure I’ll laugh about this one day.

SERENDIPITY

Colonel Sander’s eleven secret herbs and spices that flavour Kentucky Fried Chicken batter aren’t quite so secret once you’ve spent some time behind the scenes in one of his kitchens.

Most of what goes into the recipe is plain old salt; you probably guessed that anyway. The remaining ten ingredients are a little more exotic.

There’s a fair helping of saliva and snot, dispensed by disgruntled, underpaid employees. A shot of fresh blood from the multitude of cut fingers; stray hairs; and the tears of young waitresses, unable to pay their way.

You really don’t want to know the rest!

MUNSI

Too Much/Too Soon
By Christopher Munroe

I fell out of the bed and onto the floor, completely naked, as she pulled the blanket up to cover her… self, suddenly embarrassed where moments before she’d been so uninhibited.

I shrugged at her, trying to play it off as though it were nothing, but I could already tell it wasn’t going to fly.

“You promised you wouldn’t make it weird.” She said, reproachfully, and I had to admit, it had gotten weird.

I’d made it weird.

“What can I say?” I told her sheepishly, “I like my women like like I like my Margaritas. Completely covered in salt…”

RICHARD

Slammers

I’ll never drink tequila again!

Blame that night in some nameless strip joint down Mexico way. It started with regular Slammers then progressed to irregular ones.

Somehow we talked one of the girls into joining us – the idea was simple: Lick the salt off her boobs, take the shot, retrieve the lime from her lips – no hands, of course – and slam the glass.

After my seventh shot, things went badly wrong.

I licked the lime, poured the shot on her lips, took the salt and slammed her boobs.

Needless to say, the local roughnecks then slammed me!

JEFF

My grandfather worked in a gigantic red brick building located on the edge of downtown. The nearest bridge over the river was a monstrous steel trestle beast straddling a river that bizarrely seemed to flow slowly and swiftly at the same time, causing strange whirlpools and eddies which were mesmerizing when watched from the banks as if they were storms in the river. The smell, as one approached, was a mixture of pig manure, dead fish, and smoked hickory. My grandfather was a purveyor of death in a factory of bacon and ham. The pigs screamed as they were killed.

TOM

A Love Supreme

Jack played the Xylophone. He got Coltrane, something I never fully got. Jack did this thing with a box of Morton Salt and a black light. Up and down the scales the crystals would dance in the light. Each note had an off center ringing that decayed in an off center measure. Damn near put you into an altered state. Worked amazingly well live, but never showed up on the master tracks. Folk didn’t seem to mind. It was the mark of a true fan to come out to the club to listen. Tried it on my bass, didn’t work.

LIZZIE

The truck traveled slowly. Attracting unwanted attention was the last thing Indigo wanted. Released after twenty years in prison, and… He steals a truck… He walked around the corner and there it was, keys in the ignition, begging to be stolen. When Indigo spotted the police behind him, he knew he was in trouble. However, it was only when they lifted the blanket that he realized how serious it was. In the back, there was the body of one of the jurors in his trial. He sighed. He’d have plenty of time to figure out who had framed him.

TURA

Indigo Salt
———
Every product wants to be a commodity, but a new breed of entrepreneurs is turning conventional wisdom on its head.

“Our latest project is indigo salt,” says Senza Sordino, a 20-something graduate of Udemy and Kickstarter. “No foodstuff is naturally blue, you see, so blue salt makes it less appetising, so you’ll use less salt. It ticks every box: healthy, organic, vegan, sustainable, chemical-free (our little in-joke), nut-free (ditto), and the key essential: a 2000% markup.

“Our next project might be water filtered through billion-year-old rock,” Sordino continues. “Make anything expensive enough and enough people will think it’s worth it.”

NORVAL JOE

Mickey ran his tin cup along the bars of his cell like a mono tonal xylophone. He walked to the center of the cell and wrapped an indigo blanket around his bare shoulders, waiting for the observers to enter.
Two men walked toward the bars.
“I’m Dr. West and this is my assistant Harold Salt,” the first said. “I have some questions.”
“You’re a couple of boobs. But I’m in here and you’re out there. Ask away,” Mickey sneered.
Salt squinted at Mickey. “Don’t you work at Kentucky Fried?”
“Nope. Chicken King,” Mickey said. “That proves it. You are boobs.”

PLANET Z

Most kids got caught using a flashlight to read dirty magazines under their blanket.
But when I was a kid, I would play the xylophone.
I tried to be quiet, mind you, but there were times when the music would take me over and I’d be hammering away like a maniac.
“Why can’t you be like other kids?” my dad would say, grabbing the xylophone and handing me a stack of dirty magazines.
I’d sigh, turn on the flashlight, pull down my pajama pants, and dread all of the lawns I’d have to mow to afford to buy another xylophone.

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
• Amuse Bouche
• Richard
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Munsi
• Lizzie
• Spate
• Norval Joe
• Tura
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Recipe
by Jeffrey Fischer

Look, going into this I knew it would be the worst thing I ate, worse than the time Frankie double-dared me into eating a live cockroach, worse than the spoiled milk that came out in chunks on my cereal, worse than the sheep’s intestines used in the off-brand haggis. Still, the rewards promised to be worth it.

The eye of newt wasn’t so bad, and I could choke down the gall of goat. Tongue of dog wasn’t great, and I had a hell of a time getting the liver of blaspheming Jew. I would have called it off at the finger of birth-strangled babe but Lady Macbeth insisted I follow through with it.

Standards
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Oh my God, that is awful. I’m not eating it.” I put my fork down and crossed my arms.

“What don’t you like about it?” Mom asked.

“Liver and onions? It smells horrible. It tastes disgusting. It’s the worst thing I ever ate.”

“Really? Number one on the list?” I nodded. “Worse than the stuffed peppers you wouldn’t eat last week? Or the sauerkraut you wouldn’t eat the week before?”

“Look, Mom, what can I say? You set high standards for horrible meals.” She sent me to bed without supper. It turns out liver and onions was the worst thing I never ate.

AMUSE BOUCHE

Un Accident Delicieux
It’s so fresh this chicken they sold me,
I covered it in flour, the recipe told me.
I should’ve known something was amiss,
My chicken was hairy and started to hiss.
I smacked my lips turning on the heat, looking forward to this delicious treat
I left it cooking to feed Mittens,
he was my joy, the cutest of kittens.
I couldn’t find him, no paw or hair,
So I took out the dish and ate good leg
But saw poultry on the counter, still in the bag.
I looked in the dish beside my pie of key lime,
I’d not eaten chicken, but my friendly feline.

RICHARD

The worst?

What was the worst thing I ate?

Good question, because I’ve eaten some crazy things in my time, although to be quite honest, I’ve enjoyed most of them.

Everything from grilled snake to deep fried insects – it’s surprising just how tasty some of the more unpalatable sounding dishes can be.

But the worst thing ever was at my wedding….

You know the bit. It goes: ‘To have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death do us part’

And then I said, “I do”

And she’s made me eat my words ever since.

SERENDIPITY

9/11 – What was the worst thing you ate?

You wonder what was the worst thing I ate?

What you have to remember is that what would be repulsive to you, is of little consequence to me. Cannibalism is, by its very nature the ‘worst thing’… But to me, it’s no different to burger and fries.
There was one occasion though I was physically sick.

That time I ate someone’s liver, with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.

I have to say that the liver was perfect: Nicely caramelised on the outside, and just the right amount of pink on the inside.

Delicious.

But, those fava beans… Disgusting!

TOM

Too Die For

I can write this because of my mother’s limited internet ability, for it’s her idea of meatloaf that is the subject of this challenge, for it is truly the worst thing I have ever eaten. Before anyone chimes in with: “I know a great recipe for meatloaf”, let me stated I’m way beyond Operant conditioning, scared beyond salvation. You see my mom’s meatloaf was stuffed with bread crumbs, not just any bread crumbs, bread crumbs left in wax paper to mature, well actually in the humidity of Chicago, to mold and selective rot. It only saving grace was the Ergot

MUNSI

Conversation over Dinner
By Christopher Munroe

There are different ways to interpret the word “Worst.”

It could refer to something disgusting, a flavor you didn’t enjoy, a meal you found personally unpleasant…

Alternately, it could mean “Worst” from a moral perspective, an endangered species, human flesh, something that, having learned you’d eaten it, even by accident, you could never live with the shame of…

However, at the end of the day, I’d suggest that the “Worst” meal would have to be the meal served by a poisoner, which eventually kills you.

So: What’s the worst thing you ever ate?

Don’t answer yet.

First: Finish your soup…

LIZZIE

The Fairy Children had a dismayed expression on their sparkly faces.
“This is a healthy veggie soup,” said the Fairy Mother.
The children looked disgusted. The mysterious objects floating in the thick liquid looked rather suspicious.
“Taste it.”
As soon as the most adventurous of them swallowed some soup, he turned brown.
The suffering of their sibling was hilarious. The other kids laughed.
After holding his tummy with both arms for a few minutes, he finally threw up.
Alarmed, the mother threw the soup away.
The child winked.
And that was the end of healthy food for the Fairy Family.

SPATE

A Vengeful Conversation
by Spate

You can push and scrape it around on your plate. Or you can take pretend
forkfuls followed by fake chews. Or you can try to hide it under the mashed
potatoes. But never, never even think about feeding it to the dog.

This is yours to eat.

Yes, served cold! What did you expect?! You left it dangling in the air
between us until all that was left is this dark icy shriveled empty skin of
what was.

And it’s on your plate for you.

And you are not going to leave this table until you eat every last word!

(sound effects by soundjay.com)

SPATE

As a new missionary in the Republic of South Africa I had my room and board in the Kraaifontein Hotel, near Cape Town.
I always said I would eat anything once, and most things twice, until they brought us curried tripe and trotters. I chewed and chewed on the stomach lining but never got it down. The pigs feet stayed on the plate.
I vowed to never eat curry again.
A year later I was working in the Indian townships where every family we visited insisted on feeding us dinner. The curry was incredibly spicy at times, but always delicious.

TURA

What was the worst thing you ate?
———
On the menu of every Michelin-starred restaurant there is one item that insiders call the “dead donkey”. It is an imaginary dish, such as “allegrette des viandes”, or “cassioletta au chevalloise” and it marks anyone who orders it as an ignoramus. Of course, the chef will prepare something that this oaf will think delicious, but the waiters will all be smirking behind his back.

I must admit that in my naïve youth, I once had the misfortune to order the dead donkey. One of my wiser dining companions later explained the matter to me in private, but oh! the embarrassment!

PLANET Z

Some years, I was the only Jew in my class.
We weren’t religious, but that didn’t matter to racist bullies.
Or the principal.
“They beat you up and took your lunch?” he’d ask. “Maybe they’re just hungry? Bringing enough for everyone is the proper Christian way.”
He emphasized Christian.
So, I made sandwiches for everyone, and gladly handed them out.
I watched them laugh at me.
I watched them eat.
I watched them clutch their stomachs.
I watched their faces as I said “Rat poison.”
Some survived, some didn’t.
The principal’s son, for instance.
He got a proper Christian burial.