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

MUNSI

The Show
By Christopher Munroe

A single ferret, in the big city, trying to have it all.

Living, working, occasionally disemboweling other small rodents, life was hard, but she knew that as long as she remained virtuous she WOULD, in the end, learn how to balance work and her tempestuous love life.

As produced by David E. Kelly.

Long story short, the show was NOT good, and only made eight episodes before being cancelled. Frankly, it’s failure’s no surprise. What surprises is that it was greenlit in the first place. Who on this planet thought it MIGHT work?

Somebody at NBC is filled with regret….

MUNSI

Searching Searching Searching

Single, Ferret, seeking Planet Base Diet partner, Failed third grade, Hard Liqueur acceptable, Regret not, Disembowel my third grade nun, Virtue is its own punishment. “This has to be a message to some sleeper cell.” “Nope” “Look at it, who would write such dribble?” “Robot” “What?” “Robot Emailers, escaped from Langley,” said the NSA analysis. “Nice work kid, hand me that bug spray.” Leo sprayed the kid’s screen, the email melted off the monitor. “How’d you do that,” “Fifth level secret, if I told you, I’d have to kill ya, remember Rudy.” The kid got real quiet. Read the next email.

JEFFREY

Two Minute Hate
by Jeffrey Fischer

The couple sat across the dinner table from one another. Neither had taken a bite of the meal. “I hate you,” she said.

“I hate you, too.”

“Well, I loathe you.”

“I despise every single thing about you.”

“You are a vile chauvinist.”

“You’re a bubble-headed wannabe feminist.”

“I can’t stand your lax hygiene.”

“I resent your relatives.” He checked his watch. “Okay, done. Say, tomorrow is our 25th anniversary. Should we take the day off?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ll regret it. The therapist says communication really improves a marriage.”

“I think she’s right. Things between us have never been better.”

Failing Up
by Jeffrey Fischer

He ran his bank into the ground. When he was made CEO of his second bank, the lesson he took from the first experience was that he needed the bank to be too big to fail. After multiple, poorly-conceived acquisitions, the bank didn’t fail – but was purchased for pennies on the dollar. He was fired again.

The President called and said his experience was needed as Treasury Secretary. Failure was now a virtue.

When the Chinese foreclosed on the United States, they didn’t fire him. They gave him a knife with which he could disembowel himself. The knife had a very dull blade.

CHARLIE

When I was a young man, I owned an albino Ferret. I adopted the polecat from a respected Ferret shelter in Northwest Portland. I failed to inquire about and check the sex of the little critter, as it was moving around and squirming so much, it was hard. I regret not finding out it was a vicious male, so when I took it home, it tried to maim and eat the hands of our newborn. The virtue of having a warm, furry pet was soon lost, so we had to return little Chickaboomboom to the ferret shelter for a refund.

#2

He failed hard. Very hard. Attempting to come off as being a super duper wordsmith, intellectual, and supremely clever chap, his words came off as pale, callow, twerpfluffery. His words were copied directly from his Black Studies lecture notes as he commented on a Tweet post I made recently. I saw him use the same five or six words as a sharp retort to another post he disagreed with. Fail, fail. I typed his comment into Google and found the complete sentence he opened his Tweet comment with – in lecture notes from an undergrad course in Black Studies at MIT.

RICHARD

Position Vacant

Strangest criteria for a job I’ve ever seen: ‘Position vacant – Are you highly- motivated and adventurous? Call now for a career that’s out of this world. Only single, unattached candidates need apply.’

At the interview, all became clear.

“We’re looking for settlers on Planet Z”… We’ve got scientists, medics and technicians, what we don’t have are colonists – everyday people to get stuck in and populate the planet”

“Ah”, I said, “Now I understand why you’re only looking for singles”.

“That’s not the reason”, came the reply: “It’s because this is a one way trip… You’re never coming back!”

SERENDIPITY

You knew I’d pick ‘disembowel’, didn’t you?

It is, after all, one of my favourite words, describing one of my favourite activities.

Not everybody’s cup of tea, I know, but it takes all sorts to make a world, and even those of us on the fringes of polite society have our place.

Just because I like sharp knives, blood and gore doesn’t mean I’m a bad person, although I have to admit I’m hard pressed to suggest something positive to say about my habits.

At least I’m honest about it.

And there you have it… Honesty!

It’s my one virtue!

TURA

Ferret; disembowel
———
Abba Jerome’s only companion in the desert was a ferret that would come and lie in the shade of his cave.

One night, he walked meditating among the hills. Hearing a sudden noise underfoot, he saw how the ferret had caught a desert rat, ripping its belly open. In compassion, Abba Jerome laid his hand on the rat, which was miraculously healed, and scampered away.

But God spoke out of the night, saying, “Knowest thou the ways of God? The rat’s death was the ferret’s life.”

Abba Jerome admitted his sin, but thereafter, the ferret would never enter his cave.

LIZZIE

Disemboweled Regret

The tomb was empty. Everyone panicked.
The searches lasted weeks.
Some believed the body was stolen. Others, that the lost soul would haunt a neighboring town, considering no haunting-related problems occurred.
The searches stopped.
A fortnight later, a ghostly voice roared “Do you regret it now?”
Everyone recognized it. It was homeless John who littered the streets for weeks. They asked him to leave. He refused. The town decided to solve the problem swiftly.
He was back now. Every morning, someone showed up dead, disemboweled and displayed in front of the town hall, just like it had happened to him.

NORVAL JOE

“Oh. Ketchup,” the girl said, blushed, and sat.
The door slammed open. Cherry Cola stumbled forward, collapsed hard into a seat, and stared at the other girl. “Ferret. You’re the last person on the planet I expected to see.”
“I don’t claim my honesty to be a virtue and I may regret my words. I was the one who hit you in the library.”
“Give me a single reason why we shouldn’t call the police,” Mickey said.
Ferret looked down. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone. Polecat said she would disembowel me if I failed to stop you, Monkey Boy.”

DANNY

I am SINGLE, with no REGRET. May of 1995. I was a young law school graduate who just passed the Florida Bar. I had a hot girlfriend, and life on this PLANET was full of hope, until I realized my 1st Florida girlfriend was totally psychotic. We broke up, violently. Fast forward to 2011, Christmas at home with my parents and my new dog Freddie on Christmas Eve, when suddenly on the 11’O-clock news, my ex-girlfriend shot her soon to be ex-husband twice in the back of the head with a 44 Magnum. Needless to say, that closed casket funeral was not mine.

ZACKMANN

A Space Sea Story

Although her marriage made peace with the bug planet Munroe, Princess Fawcett of planet Mustelidae, who looked like a sexy human ferret hybrid on an old SciFi cover, despite trying several times a day failed to have an heir. She regretted that the virtue of emotional compatibility with the king of Munroe didn’t translate into physical compatibility for reproduction. She asked for my help since her doctor was pretty sure humans were compatible. I protested neither of us was single. The princess assured me a night with her is more fun than being disemboweled. Hope my wife never finds out.

PLANET Z

Ever cried over a video game?
No, not when you accidentally erase the disk, or when you lose the registration key.
I’m talking about crying over the video game’s content.
Planetfall was a text adventure with a darling childlike robot sidekick named Floyd.
To help solve one of the final puzzles of the game, Floyd sacrificed himself.
And that made me cry.
I wanted to visit Floyd again, so I dug up my old Planetfall disks and tried to load it, but they’re too old.
Did I cry again at Floyd’s second death.
Nah. I found Planetfall online.
Hi, Floyd!

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

JEFFREY

This Land is My Land
by Jeffrey Fischer

After months at sea, we all felt relief to see land again. The ship anchored in a harbor. I led a small party to shore. As captain, it was my honor to be the first to step foot on the virgin land. I did so, planting our flag and speaking the words I had rehearsed: “I claim this territory, from this shore to the next, in the name of our sovereign.”

Of course, I wasn’t speaking English, but you get the idea. My memory of it is quite distinct. I have been reincarnated many times, and one of my earlier lives was the first person to ever come to the Americas. That means I have dibs. It’s all mine, Chief, every square inch.

The Event
by Jeffrey Fischer

The memory is indelible: I was warm, snug, and content in my cocoon. I certainly didn’t want to leave. Then came the cold and a blinding light. I fought to stay where I was, but someone yanked me from my hideaway. I’m sure I cried.

“Get up, you big baby,” my father said, glaring at me and throwing the covers to the floor. “We agreed to this weeks ago. I’m not asking for much: just start looking for a summer job so you can earn some money for college so you don’t bankrupt me. It’s not like I’m ripping you from the womb.”

CHARLIE

My earliest memory was the death of my twin. It was misclassified as a crib death. Timmy’s head was stuck between oak bars of the Ikea crib for two days, while the baby sitter smoked crack and my parents vacationed in El Cabo. My uncle, a decisive thief, suffered a form of crib death as well. He broke into a furniture store one night to crack the safe and to steal a crib for his newborn. He attracted the attention of a dozing night watchman, and during a brief gun battle, succumbed to a chest wound at the guard’s hand.

#2

An early memory. A very early memory, is that of my time swimming in a large pool of warm, amniotic fluid, tethered to a round, pulpy sea creature by my belly button. Really scary looking stuff I imagined, since I could only feel it, and I couldn’t see it. I imagined everything to be squishy, veiny, purple, and icky looking. I did spend a lot of time squirming around, tumbling in the warm medium, and was only disturbed a few times during my stay by another grunting creature trying to worm it’s way into my secure cave in the evening.

#3

A memory that will live for me in infamy was the day I succumbed to the new, shiny, 320i Beemer my new lady friend drove. I wanted to drive that car, to wax it, to wind it up tight in third gear on the highway, to drift around some slow curves on the pass, to wind the tach to red line in expressway traffic. This car pulled me into a relationship that I wish I could expunge with a quick dose of something, or a memory wipe of some kind. I eventually had my way with the car, of course.

RICHARD

#1 – Hungry

My earliest memory? That’s easy – it was seeing you for the first time just now.

Nothing like a stranger turning up with snacks when you’ve not eaten for as long as you can remember.

Not that my memory is good: We goldfish aren’t renowned for our long term recollection!

And what’s that you have? Food! Marvelous! I haven’t eaten, for… Well, as long as I recall.

Do I know you? I forget… One of the downsides of being a goldfish: Seven seconds and then… Poof! Gone.

Oh, is that food you have? Excellent… I haven’t eaten for… Well, ages.

#2 – Memories

My earliest memory was implanted on June fifteenth 1997 – my fortieth birthday, which might seem a little late in life to be establishing a past, but up to then I didn’t really know where my life was heading.

So many people form their memories far too early, I think… By the time they’ve got themselves a career, settled down and made their plans for a satisfying future, they’ve accumulated years of baggage, disappointment and bad decisions, clogging up their minds and exerting a stranglehold on their future.

Not for me though, life is great… As far as I remember!

TURA

My first memory
———
The doctors tell me that my first memory is from when I was two. Not to me. I can see that memory sitting in my head, but it doesn’t feel like mine.

To me, my first real memory is waking up in cryonics recovery. Everything from before I died feels like a story I know but never experienced. The doctors talk about “dissociative memory disorder”, blaming the patient so they can call cryonic revival a success.

So it is, for me. My predecessor died, and his past is a museum exhibit in my head. The sense of freedom is dizzying.

LIZZIE

“I died and went to Heaven. Heaven is very cold. My wife ordered me to bring a pullover. She knitted it for me. The last thing I recall is those men forcing me to wear it. Heaven is also quite intriguing. I thought I’d meet God, angels, and good-hearted people but my earliest memory of being in Heaven is when I almost turned into food. Now, I’m a pet. Good thing growling Mathilda (as I call her) is warm and cuddly. Still today, I wonder why my wife sent me to Heaven, although I seriously doubt it’s really called Heaven.”

SERENDIPITY

Story: Your Earliest Memory

I am your earliest memory.

I was there when you burst from the warmth and safety of your mother’s womb, screaming and helpless into a dangerous world.

And I have stalked you ever since.

I have watched from the deep shadows in your bedroom in the night; I have followed you along unfamiliar dark alleyways; I’ve peered over your shoulder while you await bad news, and listened in to the unexpected phone call in the early hours of the morning…

I was with you at the beginning and I will accompany you to the very end…

For I am… Fear!

MUNSI

Memories
By Christopher Munroe

It’s said that your earliest memory’s the one that matters most. It’s the one that shapes you, going forward, turns you into the person you eventually become. It’s the memory you can’t escape, because it’s the one that, more than any other, IS you.

That’s why they’re called “Formative Years.”

For me, it’s my aunt, in the early eighties, dressed as though she were Boy George, singing Blondie to me in the crib.

One way, or another…

I’m going to find you…

I’m going to get’cha, get’cha, get’cha, get’cha….

And that is, essentially, everything you need to know about me.

TOM

The Greatest
My earliest memory of the man was the 1960 Olympics. I have never been much of a prizefighting fan but Clay was amazingly fast. Fists just blurred across the screen. When he said he had no quarrel with them Vietcong, he was so spot on. My sentiments exactly. When they took away his titles it reminded me of what happen to Jim Thorpe. White people love to fuck with people of color. Then he made this world class come back. I wish I could write as well as Norman Mailer. He totally captured the Ali thing in The Fight.

NORVAL JOE

We were downstairs, in the family room.
My twin brother, Roger, and I were sitting on the piano bench. We were inseparable for the first twelve years of our lives. Our oldest sister, Susan, was sitting on the brown couch with a red heat lamp shinning on her shoulders.
Susan was my sister. She watched out for me. Roger had Donna to keep an eye on him.
The next day, Susan went to the hospital and died from leukemia.
We all lost our sister. But, I lost my sister.
Susan was nine years old. Roger and I were almost two.

DANNY

I was barely born, considering it was a normal birth, if C-sections among 40 year olds are a normal birth in 1968, with the usual circumcision shortly thereafter. No, I’m not Jewish, but my mother was convinced it was a hygiene thing, because my dad was un-circumcised, and mom was obviously totally disgusted by it. So I’m circumcised. No wonder it took literally 20 years of marriage before their only son was born, or it took literally 20 years of marriage to figure out to have a child. Anyway, mom is holding me, and Belle is slobbering all over me. There, my earliest memory.

PLANET Z

The building is shaking.
My phone reads zero zero zero one.
It’s a minute after twelve.
I use military time on all my clocks for some reason.
I guess AM and PM look alike when you’re too drunk to see straight.
And with all the lights, night can be like day, and day can be like night.
I wipe the sweat from my eyes, put down my phone, and try to go back to sleep.
The building is still shaking.
Wait, I’m not in a building.
I’m on a plane. The plane is shaking.
I cover my eyes.
And sleep.