Glad Max

Glad Max guides his oxcart along the well-worn trails of Nepal, smiling and greeting his neighbors and countrymen.
Before the collapse of civilization, Nepal had been socially backward. Mostly subsistence farmers with poor access to technology, advanced medicine, and education.
There were a lot less annoying tourists and drugs and other crap that came with modernization. The old ways were back and here to stay. Nice and quiet.
Which made Max glad.
Every now and then, post-apocalyptic weirdos in leather BSDM gear drove up form Australia and caused headaches. And eventually drove off of cliffs.
Which made Max even gladder.

Weekly Challenge #536 – Prayer

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:

Tinny smirk

TOM

qualities of man

In the musical Les Misérables the play’s umber antagonist Inspector Javert prayed to the stars. The underlying text of this scene is: where does an enlightenment man place his faith. When you have rid the heavens of angles, saint, and god what power remains? We can strip from the rational man his god, but not his fundamental need to anthropomorphize to see in everything the qualities of man, that cannot be eradicated. At our core we are beings of metaphor. I guess if you have to swear by anything stars aren’t a bad choice. They are listening aren’t they?

MUNSI

A Prayer
By Christopher Munroe

Merciful Zod, before whom we kneel:

We thank you this day for your moderation, in sparing planet Houston from your wrath.

We thank you, too, your indulgence of we upon this world, though surely we are but insects to one so mighty as yourself.

And, most of all, we give thanks for our lives that you, in your wisdom, have allowed us to keep.

And, should we be able, we shall help you find the son of Jor-el, that you might enact the revenge you’ve so long awaited.

In the name of the Ursa, the Non, and Zod almighty, amen.

LIZZIE

The old woman huffed and puffed. The path was rocky and steep.
“Pray. It helps, they said.”
Yes, she did pray. However, that didn’t help. It made things worse. The animals died and the small green garden dried up.
“I’ll tell them.”
When she reached the castle, she was ushered into a large ballroom, a pale gloomy figure staring at her.
“I bring you a peace offer.”
The figure nodded.
“It’s a broth. I hope you enjoy it.”
A few days later, the green garden started sprouting but the castle was eerily quiet.
“Our garlic, who art in my broth…”

CHARLIE

The writer’s prayer goes like this: Open my mind, Lord, and grant me the talent to write with humor and the minimum use of four letter words. Let my words flow like a goat with the trots. Open my heart and my mind, Lord. Grant me the sensitivity to understand my rangebound audience and their reading comprehension. Open my soul, Lord, so I may channel my wisdom and creativity. Stroke my imagination as I stroke my Meerkat’s chin , but most of all, Lord, help me to regulate my word count without stopping short, and allowing me to conclude my ramble.

Translated from the French by Simon LaCrosse

#2

Now I lay me down to sleep. Thank you Lord for another bright and sunny day, the chance to learn, the chance to play. I hope tomorrow is as good as the day I found a wallet in the back seat of my cab and another one a few minutes later in the lady’s purse on the seat next to me at the diner. I know that this isn’t nice, but I pray that the neighbor’s lose more than one finger when they screw around with fireworks next year and continue to send my dogs into a pacing, panting frenzy.

#3

I prithee that you marry a solemn woman who blows foul wind like a noreaster and whose breath is befouled by tobacco and cheap wine. May your children be born naked and with a treble set of molars. May your business fail along with your pancreas, and your face wither and become besplotched with brown and yellow wens with tiny, coarse hairs growing from the corners of your lips and nostrils and the foulest place of my arse be fairer than thy face. I pray this is your fortune for having cursed me and invited I have intercourse with myself.

JEFFREY

Spare Me
by Jeffrey Fischer

Spare me from the stupid,
Who lack the sense God gave barnyard animals.
Spare me from the wise,
Who are only too happy to tell me how the world works.
Spare me from the indolent,
Who lecture me on my need to work on their behalf.
Spare me from the elitists,
Who continually tell me how they know better than others.
Spare me from liberals,
Who spend my money with abandon, heedless of consequences.
Spare me from regulators,
Who believe rules and restrictions carry only benefits, and lack costs.
Spare me from moralizers,
Who continually intone the superiority of their views.
And if you do not see yourself anywhere in this prayer,
Then spare me from you, too.
Amen.

Death Comes as the End
by Jeffrey Fischer

When I visited Niagara Falls, a Japanese tourist sat on the low wall above the river, contorting her body to pose for a photo. More recently, a German tourist died in Machu Picchu when he went into a forbidden area to take a picture. I wondered how many tourists died every year taking pictures in stupid poses. In 2015, a man was gored to death in Pamplona, during the running of the bulls, while trying to take a selfie. The Washington Post reported that 27 people died in 2015 while taking selfies.

Dear Lord, only you know the time and place of my death. I do not ask to know this. I do not ask for more time. I only ask that my death not make the Darwin Awards.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: Advice on Prayer

A man went to the temple to pray, standing in a public place he loudly proclaimed his piety and good works.

Another man, being poor and humble, prayed quietly in a corner – his prayer, a quiet and discrete petition.

“Now, which of these was most pleasing to god?”, asked the prophet.

“Why, the humble, quiet man – it’s patently obvious”.

“Foolish man!” Came the reply, “god is a great distance away in heaven! Should he strain his ears when he has gifted you with a fine shouting voice?”

“Blessed are the loud, for they shall drown out the meek”

#2 – Messy

Thankfully, no sign of dragons, but the forest was liberally scattered with sticky lumps of bloody and singed flesh. The creature hadn’t had a prayer against the dragon.

Pausing to throw up violently in a nearby bush, Boggins was full of recriminating thoughts. Was he the sort of person to send a fellow creature – allbeit a vile and objectionable creature – to such a horrible doom?

Then he recalled those slimy fingers creeping towards his pocket, and felt a lot better.

Putting the carnage from his mind, his thoughts turned to finding his missing companions, and more importantly, supper!

SERENDIPIDY

Now you lay yourself to sleep,
Pray the Lord your soul to keep,
It is night, and in the dark
Wicked creatures make their mark.
Once they get inside your head
You’ll wish you’d never gone to bed.
But in the shadows lurks far worse
A horror… Maybe even a curse
It’ll rend your flesh, steal your soul…
By dawn’s first light it will take its toll;
In fear and pain, your life it will drain
When morning comes, you lie still.
The sleep of death: Body chill.
And what could this monster be?
You know the answer…
It is me!

NORVAL JOE

Mickey, in monkey form, scampered across the roof of an apartment building, leapt, and swung along a utility wire. Reaching another building he stopped to check, making sure he could still see Ferret in one direction and Cherry Cola following in the other.
If it wasn’t for Ferret being Pole Cat’s sister, Mickey wouldn’t have a hope or a prayer of finding his new nemesis. With just a little luck Ferret would lead them right to the girl’s lair.
Cherry followed slowly using the other pedestrians for cover.
When he looked back to Ferret, she stared up, directly at him.

TURA

A Prayer
———
The grey-robed monk entered the chapel, pausing to contemplate the depiction in stained glass of Bayes’ Theorem. He spoke:

“If the sky is blue, I wish to believe that it is blue. If it is not, I wish to believe that it is not. What is true is not changed by wishing it otherwise.”

“If a tree falls unheard, I shall not ask whether it made a sound. I ask only, what experiences do I anticipate?”

“May my every motion be directed towards the truth, for nature cannot be fooled.”

Then he went out to receive the ambassadors from Frequentia.
———

PLANET Z

Father McGinty says blessings over his golf clubs before he goes out on the course.
Father Richards says blessings over his cue before he heads out to the pool hall.
Father Michael says blessings over his tennis racket before he walks out on to the court.
One day, God mixed up the damn prayers, and he sent angels down to implement his orders.
Father Richards kept sinking the white ball into the hole with every shot.
Father Michael’s serves kept whacking his opponents in the balls.
And Father McGinty miraculously smashed back every downrange tee shot with his five iron.

Zilla

Nobody knows why Godzilla keeps attacking Tokyo, but the insurance companies learned their lesson after the first time.
They tried to add “zilla” to the end of “Act of God” in their policies, but that didn’t quite work out with Kanji characters. So, they said that Godzilla had used his atomic fire breath on the building that warehoused all the records and paperwork.
When that scam didn’t work, the insurance company called the bankers and worked up a deal.
“Godzilla destroyed our vault and records,” the bankers said.
They pocketed the cash, fled to Singapore, and lived happily ever after.

The Gift Of Story

“A book can take you places,” my uncle said. “Wonderful places.”
You see a stack of fresh notepads and unused pens. I see stories that are waiting to be imagined and written.
So many places to discover and explore, then commit to the page. With each revision, the story becomes clearer, and the reader comes closer to actually being there.
I hold a notepad in my hand, pick up a pen, and remember my uncle trying to teach me to write.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the gift.
I close the rolltop desk and lock it.
Stories, lost forever.

The Complainer

Fred is a complainer. All he ever does is complain.
“How are you, Fred?” are the four most dangerous words in the English language. And, if Fred spoke any other language, they’d be just as dangerous in that, too. Instead, he complains about people who speak other languages.
“Why must people speak these other languages? Are they hiding something from us?”
Then he changes the subject to something like the weather, his job, his health, or whatever is bothering him.
Then, one day, when asked how he’s doing, he said “Eh, I can’t complain.”
We called the ambulance for him.

The Heat

I don’t know how people can stand the heat in Phoenix. Is there some secret underground tunnel system, because there aren’t enough skybridge tubes full of chilled mercy from one building to another.
Maybe they go around at night after the sun grants temporary reprieve from its searing wrath?
Centuries ago, my people wandered 40 years in the desert before they reached The Promised Land.
Me, I’d have given up after a day.
“Was Pharaoh really all that bad? I bet the labor market would be in our favor now.”
I step into a building.
Cool, refreshing air conditioning.

Amen.

The Cones

Usually, traffic cones are orange so you can see them at night. However, while I was walking back to the hotel, I saw a green traffic cone.
I picked it up and carried it back to the hotel, and I wore it as a hat for a selfie in the bathroom mirror.
I let it sleep on the other bed.
When I went down to the registration desk to check out, I left it in an elevator.
There are a lot of websites that sell traffic cones, but I don’t really want one now.
It’s just the moment, you know.

If the shoes fit…

Bob lost his right leg in a motorcycle accident. Bill had his left leg blown off after he stepped on a land mine in Iraq.
“Hey, you could buy a pair of shoes together,” said a girl at the bar. “Bob gets the left shoe and Bill gets the right.”
They heard that kind of patronizing crap one too many times, and they both snapped.
When they were both convicted for murder, they shared a prison cell. Sure enough, the warden did the “shoe joke.”
As they beat the fuck out of him, they shouted “We’re not the same size!”

Weekly Challenge #535 – Pick Two

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:

Happy Tinny

TOM

Not quite Bonnie and Clyde

“Earthling Wine is swill,” grumbled the little green man. “Shut your air hole,” returned the big purple woman, “your Frackn idea to crash on this Gor forsaken rock.” “Because you didn’t filler up at the Alpha Centauri Zmart.” “Right, right it’s my fault you second rate amphibian.” “Look child of a tree sloth, I’m just laying out the facts.” “Ok Almond eyes, Fact one who pocketed the Eye of All Seeing Sight during the Emperor’s coronation?” “No, Zero fact who made off with the Generals ID plate?” “Initiative.” “Oh really?” “Fur ball” “Pond scum “Shut up pass me the Thunderbird.”

MUNSI

The End of the World
By Christopher Munroe

They say that, from a certain point of view, every end is a new beginning.

I assume this is intended for people who’ve been dumped, as it does NOT apply to the end of the world.

It came from beyond the clouds, a being beyond any earthling’s comprehension, and we knew instinctively there was no way to defend ourselves, no hope for humanity…

Well, we who weren’t driven mad did, anyway.

Myself, I tried to be philosophical about it.

We’ve all gotta go sometime.

Sometime soon.

I drank up the wine, eyes on the horizon, and waited for the end…

CHARLIE

I was certain that the cloud passing over was a sign and a threat to all the earthlings that dumped their garbage in the ocean and built atomic missiles. It was the beginning. That day, that hour–that the aliens finally put their hooves down and let us know that they were here, that they were taking over for our own good and theirs, and that we had fugged things up so much they decided we needed a lot of radical changes to save ourselves and save them, in turn. They were out to prove that we were irresponsible poopheads.

#2
I dumped two bottles of wine in my schlep bag and went to the apartment where the writing group met. I had planned to blow smoke up the behind of the editor of our local weekly. Hoping he was going to be there, I wore my best blazer and my favorite tie. I wanted to get a reporter job where I could write to my strengths. I had written two or three hundred short stories, published on line, but they offered no challenge to my real talent, and didn’t give me any satisfaction. I was on automatic when I wrote.

JEFFREY

Family Outing
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Isn’t this a great day for a picnic?” Dad exclaimed, his manufactured enthusiasm only delaying the inevitable responses.

“I was going to hang with Dylan,” said my sister Jan.

“Sit on damp grass, attract ants, and have lousy cell reception? No, thanks,” I said.

“It’s a lovely idea, dear, but the day is turning cloudy. We don’t want to risk rain dumping on us,” Mom said.

“Then it’s settled: we leave in an hour.” Dad spoke to me only, as Jan was already on the phone to Dylan, explaining that she had the worst father in the world. Mom was putting a bottle of wine in the cooler. She felt the outdoors was best experienced with a serious buzz. I sighed and checked the charge on my Game Boy.

Cheap Venal Scam
by Jeffrey Fischer

Prices at CVS are terrible, so I never go without a sheaf of coupons. Just as certain as bad prices, I can always count on being unable to use one or more coupons. I’ve had the self-checkout machine eat several, had some the system simply refused to take, and had others good on merchandise that the chain doesn’t carry. My favorite is the “25% off your purchase” coupon. The fine print explains that the coupon is not good on sale items. This turns out to include “buy one, get one half off” items, even if I’m buying only one. “But I’m paying full price!” I protested, to no avail. I dumped the merchandise on the counter and left, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: In The Beginning

In the beginning was the heaven and the earth, but both were incredibly boring, so – to liven things up a bit – god said “Let there be wine”… And there was wine.

Much partying and merriment ensued and the heavenly host grew rather the worse for wear, and more than a little drunk.

Seeing his creator distracted, man had a party of his own, sinning both originally and copiously. It didn’t matter: An angel drunkenly left a tap running, flooding the earth.

Fortunately, a few righteous individuals were spared – some boat builders who didn’t have time for partying.

#2 – Space: The Final Dumpster

Space is becoming messy. We’ve dumped so much trash out there, circling in geosynchronous orbit, most of the stars you see at night are just reflections of sunlight on stray bits of metal and dust.

Dead satellites, lost spanners, fragments of foil, bags full of astronaut poop: A massive cloud of debris that’s not going away, and nobody knows just how damaging if might be.

Not that it matters to me – by the time it’s anything to be concerned about I’ll be long gone.

Unless of course, I’m taken before my time… An unfortunate victim of falling space junk

#3 – Close encounter

“Greetings Earthling”

I’d always denied the existence of aliens, but faced with the thin, grey creature, with the dark oval eyes, I was finding that was difficult to do right now.

I giggled nervously; “You’re not going to ask me to phone home or take you to my leader are you?”

The alien looked at me steadily: “You are to stand trial before the Galactic Court of Justice as your planet’s representative. Humans are beginning to become a cosmic pain in the butt!”

“But why?”, I protested, “What crime are we accused of?”

“Fly tipping and littering the solar system!”

OWEN

Certain and Beginning

For me, the beginning was when I joined the school newspaper. I was enamored by my uncle, the foreign correspondent. An advisor yelling at us for being late on deadlines, doing lay out under light boards, hauling ass in my friend’s old MG to make it to the printer’s by midnight. I was certain it would be the rest of my life.

And I tried, taking pay cuts from $11/hour to $10.50, losing years to a hyper-local startup, reporting on big pharma.

Luckily I’m the one who got to begin again, but I’m certain it’ll never be the same.

-END

SERENDIPIDY

“Would you like another glass?”, I asked, offering the wine bottle.

He smiled and nodded – they always did – and then, shortly afterwards, the look of surprise as they found themselves slipping into unconsciousness and slumping onto the table.

I’d perfected my technique after some idiot tried to date rape me using the same method – he hadn’t succeeded, and now I was on a mission – it was simple revenge against the arrogance of the male of the species.

When he finally woke up, he’d find himself dumped in an alley, missing his wallet…

And missing his testicles!

LIZZIE

“Look, this wine costs a fortune,” said the sommelier, tilting the bottle.
At the beginning, the teen students seemed interested and nodded.
“If I dropped it… What a catastrophe!”
Then some started yawning.
“It must taste heavenly!”
Several strayed away.
However, the sommelier was quite proud of his presentation and he didn’t see it coming.
One unsuspected elbow and the bottle slipped from his hand, crashing on the floor.
All laughed uncontrollably.
The sommelier died inside… He dashed onto a shelf, smashing a fortune and his future.
The kids just gazed back at their phones and forgot all about it.

TURA

Cloud; beginning
———
Find a little fluffy cloud, and stare at it patiently. After a few minutes you may begin to not merely notice that it has changed shape, but to directly see it writhing in the sky. The transition from “seeing that” to “seeing” is unmistakeable.

Practice this whenever you see clouds.

When you can look at the sky and at once see a roiling cloudscape, you can try staring at the surface of a lake until you see the minute disturbances telling the movement of fish below.

Eventually, you will be able to see grass grow, paint dry, and friends age.

NORVAL JOE

“Wait here,” Mickey told Cherry Cola, taking furry brown monkey shorts from his backpack.
Just because you’re a monkey doesn’t mean certain parts just disappear. In the beginning, when he first changed, it came as an embarrassing surprise.
In a storage room, he dumped his clothes in an empty wine crate and left the room as a large howler monkey.
“Oo, oo,” he said to Cherry, motioning her to follow.
Outside, he leapt to a fire escape and swung to the roof. He wouldn’t be among the clouds, but he’d be above the gravity bound earthlings on the street below.

ZACKMANN

I had to go to the planet because almost everyone seems to be playing this new game called Poke a Mango. Since Mango is in the name of the game I am almost certain that the earthling Matthew Sandborn Smith is somehow mixed up in it. I met some friendly people who shared a mobile device and much wine. I liked the sweet taste but after involuntarily dumping my stomach I began to think this drink is only for humans. I think it was the reason my head was in a cloud and I didn’t catch any Poke a Mans.

PLANET Z

Long ago, Manfred Mann’s band sang about The Mighty Quinn, an Eskimo so spread peace and love and joy.
Ever since then, I’ve always thought that song must be hell for any Eskimo or person named Quinn.
“Are you an Eskimo?” people would ask Quinn.
“Are you named Quinn?” people would ask the Eskimo.
Although, now that I think of it, I don’t believe that I’ve met many Eskimos.
I can’t recall the last time I saw one.
I assume that they heard the song, got sick of people asking them if their name is Quinn, and went back home.

Too Perfect

Trinity is a seven.
Sevens are better than humans, the ads say.
But they said that about sixes and fours.
Nobody said that about fives. Fives were… well… fives were fives.
Anybody who had a five could tell you that.
Anybody not in a wheelchair. Or with half their face ripped off.
So, the sixes had to be good. And the sevens even better.
Trinity is better than human.
She adjusts to everything I do. Everything I need. Or want.
And then, I caught her with Jake.
Another seven.
“I deserve better than human, too,” Trinity said.
Just too perfect.