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:

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

MUNSI

Happy Anniversary
By Christopher Munroe

An anniversary requires an appropriate gift.

For the eighth, according to tradition, that gift is Steel.

Google is useful.

So I figured, tonight, we’d slip into something a little more comfortable, all of us, every listener, every author and you, Laurence, then we’d cuddle up on the couch, together, again, all of us, pour ourselves some wine, and pop in a DVD.

Specifically, the DVD of the movie Steel, starring Shaquille O’Neal as the titular character. The film is a train-wreck, but tradition is tradition, after all…

Shush, don’t speak, no words are needed.

You’re welcome.

So: What’s for dinner?

JEFFREY

To Serve Man
by Jeffrey Fischer

Jack found himself stranded on an island with plenty of vegetation but no meat, save for a talking rabbit who had befriended Jack. Still, as much as he valued their friendship, as days passed, the rabbit looked increasingly tasty. One day, he asked the rabbit to join him for dinner. He prepared a variety of vegetables and added them to a stew pot. As the concoction started to come to a boil, he made a grab for the rabbit. “Some friend you are!” squeaked the rabbit as it ran away.

Before Jack could devise a plan to get the rabbit to return, an enormous bird swooped from the sky, plucked Jack from where he stood, and deposited him into the stew pot. The rabbit waved at the bird and collected his payment of a dozen carrots.

Supper Duty
by Jeffrey Fischer

When Sarah returned from her first semester living off campus, her mother said, “If you’re going to live here, you need to take a turn at dinner. Make us something you’d cook for your friends.”

Sarah dutifully bought supplies at the local supermarket and set to work. When the meal was ready, she called her parents to the dinner table. Each place had before it a bowl containing orange pasta, tomato sauce, and a variety of spices. Next to each bowl was a pill.

Her father looked at the setting and asked what he was supposed to be eating. “It’s my own recipe: mac and cheese, spaghetti sauce, and any three spices in the cabinet.”

“What’s the pill?”

“After the first few times I served this, I learned that it went best with an antacid.”

CHARLIE

My wife always asked the same question when she came home after work. “What’s for dinner?” We took turns: cooking, shopping, cleaning the toilets, washing dishes, making the beds, doing the laundry, scheduling the yard work, on top or on the bottom, and so on. The marriage was a partnership…no…more like a small business operation. The last time I cooked for her, I made it a very “special” dinner. My unique ingredients, including the garnish for her plate, cannot be disclosed here, as it would be cause for investigation. As you know there is no statute of limitations for murder.

#2

Mom was a nurse, and aware of what we should eat. When I asked “What’s for dinner?”, she would say: “Son, it’s a special meal tonight. We are having butylated hydroxytoluene, monosodium glutamate, citric acid, polydextrose, zinc oxide, yellow #5, high fructose corn syrup, xanthan gum, propylene glycol, polysorbate 60, caramel color, malic acid, some wood pulp, and some grapes. This was a long time ago. Today’s dinner would have dozens more “delicious” ingredients, would probably taste better because of the additives, and would be more filling because of the unique supplements, including rodent hair, fish bladders and coal tar.

#3

I could smell it when I pulled into the driveway. I asked “what’s for dinner?” I knew already…a tuna casserole. It was easy to throw together. It was like eating a gas leak. You could smell it, see it, and you knew that if you had too much of it, it would probably kill you. Had she foregone the spices, the dinner would have been much better and palatable. She overdid the spices and the crumbled blue cheese sprinkled over the pasta mixture. It turned out to be a big rectangle of gelatinous, yellowish paste, and it tasted like ass.

RICHARD

Life lessons

Experience has taught me that – depending on circumstances – there are some questions that it’s usually better not to ask.

Never, for example, ask a friend “Does this outfit make me look fat?”

When pulled over by a policeman, never ask them why they’re not using their time catching real criminals.

And never ask for a person’s full sexual history on a first date.

Most important of all, unless you have a particularly strong stomach, when traveling in Korea, China or Japan, never but never, ask what’s for dinner.

Because they might just tell you!

And refusal often offends.

TOM

Car died in The Double tree

I get an email at 1:40 informing me artwork has been accepted for a show setting up at 8:00 in San Jose. Four in bumper to bumper I pull into the hotel parking lot. Stering and electrical dies. Call Triple A, its the alturnator. Call Gail, who calls Amy, who calls me. Lost in hotel parking Amy calls. Bout this moment I’m the cell is most important tool I own. We pull into Fremont at 10:30. All I want is bathwater and food. Wonder what I’ll have for dinner. Comfort food

SERENDIPITY

There comes a point in a marriage, when all of the magic has gone, and all you’re left with is the depressing realisation that this is as good as it’s ever going to get.

You resign yourself to a future of futile fallings out and bitter disagreements about who’s going to put out the bins, those irritating habits your spouse insists are in your imagination, and conversational exchanges limited to the bare bones of necessary information…

What are you watching?

Why were you late home from work?

What’s for dinner?…

Arsenic dear, with a helping of hemlock on the side!

LIZZIE

The children looked at their plates, disappointed.
“Can’t we have something different for a change?”
“Be grateful, there’s food on the table,” replied the headmistress.
Some of the kids sulked, others refused to eat. When lunch ended, most of the food went back to the kitchen, untouched.
“What should I do with this?” asked the head cook.
“Give it to the dogs. There’s no room in the fridge. And when you go by the cemetery later today, don’t bring the hands. The kids don’t like seeing fingers floating in the soup. Oh, well, at least the dogs will be happy.”

NORVAL JOE

Mickey helped the unnamed girl across the street to the Chicken King restaurant.
“Mmmm. What’s for dinner?” she asked when they pushed through the front door.
“Chicken, of course,” Mickey said. “But you shouldn’t eat anything. You may have a concussion.”
“Oh right. I forgot,” she said with a sheepish smile.
“What’s going on?” Mandy asked, walking around the counter to them.
“This girl got hit on the head. She has amnesia. I need to take her to the hospital.”
“Let me see,” Mandy said, examining the girl’s scalp. “Mickey. This girl’s pulling your leg. This isn’t blood. I’s ketchup.”

TURA

What’s for dinner?
———
Squeak, we called him, because of his squeaky little voice. Our little brother, but little for his age too, never got strong enough to make himself useful. Not much in his head either. When Squeak was hungry, which was all the time, he squeak “What for dinner?” over and over. Boiled potatoes and salt, usually.

I don’t really know what became of him. I didn’t notice him for a few days, and when I asked, Da said he’d fallen from a tree. We never talked more, not even among us brothers. Times were hard, and what else could you do?

PLANET Z

Bud Abbott and Lou Costello took the “Who’s on First?” routine all around the world.
They milked it for all they could.
Once, they tried to do a tour of Africa, but their plane went down in the jungle.
Bud and Lou were captured by cannibals, who threatened to eat them.
The comedians thought quickly on their feet and came up with “Who’s for Dinner?”
“No, What’s for dinner,” growled Abbott. “Who’s on First Base.”
“What’s on Second Base?” cried Costello.
“I don’t know!” replued Abbott.
“Third base!” they both shouted.
While the cannibals laughed, they ran for their lives.

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

MUNSI

Flight Risk
By Christopher Munroe

Your Honor, I assure you, I’m not a flight risk.

Unless called upon to land the plane, which would be risky indeed.

I’m not a pilot, after all, I’ve never flown a plane in my life, and not for nothing I’m terrible in a crisis.

That’s why, should something hypothetically happen to the Pilot, it would assuredly not be me taking over in the cockpit.

What?

Of course, Your Honor, I also won’t be in a plane in the first place, because I absolutely won’t leave the country the moment this hearing is over.

Because I’m not a flight risk.

JEFFREY

The Customer is Not Always Right
by Jeffrey Fischer

Phil placed the bar menu in front of the customer, who asked, “Tell me about the Scotch flight.”

“It’s three half-ounce pours of single-malt Scotch, starting with the 12-year-old Glenfiddich, a light, almost floral whisky; then a Highland Park, another 12-year-old, with strong oak notes; and, finally, the Laphroaig 10-year-old, a peaty island malt with a very distinctive ocean character. Would you like to order the flight?”

The customer thought for a moment. “Nah. Just give me a Bud Light.”

It was moments like this for which Phil appreciated his strong impulse control, or otherwise he would have slugged the customer.

Takeoff
by Jeffrey Fischer

I inwardly groaned when the big man sat next to me, in the middle seat. He wore a beater undershirt and I could see sweat accumulating on his hairy arms. On takeoff, he gripped the arm rests so tightly his fingers gouged holes in the vinyl. When the flight attendant came by, he asked for two vodkas and downed both quickly. This caused him to sweat even more, but I could see some of the tension disappear.

“It’s my first flight,” he told me, apologetically. “I know I look like a mess, but I’m scared shitless.” I asked him what he did for a living. “I’m in the repo business.” He saw my expression. “Yeah, I know. I take cars away from angry people but I’m afraid of sitting in a metal can at 30,000 feet.”

I told him, “Let me buy you another vodka.”

RICHARD

#1 – Pockets

As an effective means of flight from immediate danger, the hobbit’s efforts had been spectacularly unsuccessful. When he finally came round it was with a throbbing headache and bruised face, and the certain knowledge that he really was in trouble now.

He sensed the creature whose cave he shared was very close by, and his groans signalling his return to consciousness prompted his tormentor’s renewed interest.

“So, is it going to tell us what it has in its pockets… Or must we see for ourselves?”

In the darkness, Boggins felt the disturbing touch of leathery fingers scrabbling at his tunic.

#2 – Flight

The weather was foul – so bad, in fact, that most flights had been cancelled.
My travelling companion was not amused. Hardly a happy flyer at the best of times, she’d turned into a nervous wreck during the wait for our gate to open.

“Please don’t worry”, I reassured her, “Flying is one of the safest forms of travel there is.

“What do you know?” she replied, “I’d rather hear it from an expert!”

Once onboard, I beckoned to the flight attendant… “For my companion’s peace of mind, just how often do these planes crash?”

“Only once!” she said, winking.

CHARLIE

The magic of flight intrigued my family. We all had licenses. I had my license while I was in high school. I used to take my dates for a tour, and make a point to fly over my date’s house so she could take some photos of her house and yard. It made an impression, and I was popular with the girls. If I was going steady and the girl cheated on me or broke up with me, I’d make it a point to drop some nasty substances on her house or in the family pool during a night flight.

#2

My wife took flight as soon after discovering some things about me. She came home early and found me sprawled, asleep, on the bed, naked from the waist down, with the vibrator still clutched in my right hand, and her antique, Raggedy Anne doll in my left. I had used the vibrator to pleasure myself, and dozed off. She pretended she hadn’t seen anything, awakening me from the other room by calling out. I discovered that she had packed and was gone when I came home the following day, leaving a note that mentioned “perversion and unfaithfulness…employing a mechanical device”.

#3

Former President Bill Clinton was a frequent flyer on Jeffrey Epstein’s jet. Epstein is a registered sex offender. Clinton took at least 26 trips aboard the “Lolita Express”, a 727. Epstein allegedly had a team of traffickers who procured girls as young as 12 to service his friends on “Orgy Island,” an estate on his 72-acre island in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Flight logs show Clinton flying aboard Epstein’s plane to such destinations as Hong Kong, Japan, Singapore, China, Brunei, London, New York, the Azores, Russia and Africa. What does a creepy guy like Bill Clinton do on these trips?

SERENDIPITY

It’s the most basic animal instinct… Fight or flight – and, to make the wrong decision could literally mean life or death.

For most, that decision is taken entirely out of their hands: it’s a primal, reflex action that happens in a split second at that critical moment when life hangs in the balance.
At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Because instinct isn’t going to save you when you come face to face with me.

Fight, flight, whatever you choose, it’s not going to save you. I’m stronger, faster and my primal instinct is far superior to yours.

LIZZIE

Cramped in their seats, no one moved. No one could move. The flights had become sheer torture. The number of seats increased but no one complained because the prices were irresistible. When the row started at the back, no one gave it much thought. It was only understandable. When the frantic voice of the stewardess asked people to remain seated, no one reacted. When a clearly tense captain announced an emergency landing, most were relieved. When the emergency crews arrived, the biggest piece to be found was the size of a handbag. Dirt cheap, said the flight advertisement. So true.

TOM

UP

Bill and Jack had procured a number of weather balloons from advertisements in the back of Bat Man comics, issue 257 to 265. Getting the canisters of Hydrogen and Helium prove a bit more dicey. Some Midnight requisitioning was employed. They justified the theft under the banner of greater good. They strapped two lawn chairs back to back with a monster amount of duct tape. They got their cool Uncle Frank to haul their airship out to the high desert. The flight was supposed last two hours. The thing finally came down three day later. Their parent seriously ground them.

NORVAL JOE

Mickey wrinkled his nose at the girl’s blood covered hand and asked, “Were you in a fight?”
She frowned and said, “I think I’ve missed my flight.”
“Why. Were you going somewhere?”
“That’s something I shouldn’t share.”
Frustrated, Mickey asked, “Do you always speak in ryhme?”
She laughed. “Don’t you have the time?”
“Stop this. It makes me think you’re crazy,” Mickey gasped.
“Okay,” she said. “I think I should probably go to the hospital.”
“I work across the street. I’ll see if I can borrow my manager’s car.”
“I’ll try to walk, if it’s not to far.”
She winked.

TURA

Flight
———
“We’re flying out from JFK this Sunday,” I said to my friend Fred.

He froze. “Which flight?”

“Early, 05:45 I think.”

“Don’t be on that flight,” he whispered urgently.

Fred worked in avionics. “You mean,” I said slowly, “like that Egyptian flight that crashed into the Mediterranean?”

“Avionics is pwned,” he said. “China can press a ‘SMITE!’ button and a plane crashes. Russia too. We’re playing catch-up, too many here think it’s a bad thing.”

“This is a civilian flight to Europe. Since when was the Atlantic a war zone?”

“Test run on an easy target,” he said. “Catch-up, remember?”

PLANET Z

The fight or flight reflex is a powerful one in my family.
We’re all cowards. There’s nothing that doesn’t scare the bejesus out of us.
Loud noises. Flashing lights.
We’ll even flee at the drop of a hat.
Really. If you dropped a hat, I’d be running away.
Any time someone drops a hat, it’s a mad rush out of the room.
Even Grampa Wally, and he’s got a wooden leg.
We’re not sure which leg is wooden, because both look kind of nasty.
We make him wear a blanket in his lap so as not to scare the children.