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:

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

CHARLIE

He dropped a hip hop record a few days ago. His group, Fake Ass CP were big in The Valley. DoWaDittyBop decompressed and put down some lines:

Rapping tighter than a Christmas present. When they had you in their stomach when they were pregnant. Never had forgiveness, you better stay distant, cause i’m all about my business. You diss me, yet my rep is listed for Christmas.

DoWa had a learning disability. The lyrics, continued:

Rolling up blunts of the christmas kush, so pussy go back home or go to school. This is the end of my fucking song. Shit.

2nd

A single drop was sufficient. Four drops under the tongue, thirty in the keester, and a drop each in the eye. Usually it’s a bottle of cough syrup and a half pint of sloe gin, and we’re ready to party. The rest of the coeds poured the full bottles of cough syrup in each others behind, and they were ready to boogie. Three of them called their parents and said they were staying overnight at a friend’s house. Five went home and then slid out their bedroom window to return to the Christmas party. Only two OD on horse tranks.

3rd

The backdrop for the annual family photo was Essie Oberlocwins patio. She was a landscape artist and her patio was the cat’s ass. It had two water accents, a large fire pit, and benches made from rare woods and bamboo. My wife stood behind me, and the kids sat at my feet. This was the pose we always took for family portraits. The wife took the subservient roll, and the kids looked up at me as their savior and protector. Essie teased me for arranging the family in this way, so I stuck three fingers in all the hors d’oeuvres.

JEFFREY

Rain Man
by Jeffrey Fischer

The drought had continued so long the townspeople couldn’t remember the last good rain. In desperation, the mayor hired a rain man. He arrived in traditional American Indian garb and shouted incantations at the sky as he danced. I was as skeptical as anyone.

When I felt wetness hit my face, I couldn’t believe it – he had created rain! I wiped away those first drops, only to find my hand orange and sticky. Odd. I tasted the next drop. It was raining Orange Crush! Even though we knew this would end as a sticky mess, we were so happy we even paid the Indian a bonus.

No one saw his assistant disconnect the huge sprayers on the outskirts of town and drive away in a Pepsi truck.

Tech Support
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Good morning, Dropbox help line. How may I assist you?”

“I installed your product, Boxdrop, just the way my friend told me to.”

“That’s good, ma’am. By the way, it’s Dropbox. What seems to be the problem?”

“I gave Boxdrop all my files, just the way my friend said. Moved ’em to the Boxdrop folder, and then they were gone.”

“Dropbox, ma’am. Gone, you say? Let’s try to figure out what happened.”

“Now I get email telling me I need to pay if I want my files back. You people are crooks!”

“I understand you’re upset, but let me assure you Dropbox is a reputable company.”

“Why do you keep saying Dropbox?”

“The confusion is understandable. People sometimes reverse the names, but we’re Dropbox, not Boxdrop.”

“Nope. B-O-X-D-R-O-P dot R-U. You don’t even know the name of your own product!”

MUNSI

On Subscription Boxes

By Christopher Munroe

I want a subscription box that, every month, sends me a box from another, different subscription box service.

The box will arrive, and I won’t know until I open it what I’m receiving. One month could be beef jerky, the next X-Men merchandise, there’d be no way of predicting.

The contents, after all, aren’t why I enjoy subscription boxes. It’s the surprise, the anticipation as I tear open my monthly treat.

And, without any clue what’s in the box, it’d be all the more surprising.

That said, knowing my luck, my first box would wind up containing Gwynith Paltrow’s head…

LIZZIE

He dropped the letter in the mailbox and glanced one last time at her window.
It had taken him several days to write that letter, many hours of writing and rewriting. And so many sleepless nights that he had lost count.
As he walked away from his life, he wondered if she would notice the tears on it.

When she opened the envelope, she saw a piece of paper inside with nothing written on it. She turned it over a few times and shrugged. She was going to throw it in the garbage, but instead gave it to the cat.

RICHARD

Drop Zone

As we neared the drop zone, the atmosphere grew tense. You could see the foreboding growing in the faces of those around you. Smiles faded, jaws clenched, voices were stilled, whilst knuckles grew white as hands gripped the edges of seats.

It was always the same. No matter how many times you endured it, you never found it easy, and that old familiar feeling would creep back, time after time.

A collective drawing of breath signalled the first glimpse of the drop zone… It would be very soon now.

With a grinding of gears and a final shudder, the bus came to a halt and we disembarked.

The first day of a new school term.

TOM

Justifiable

The targeting staff at the Pacific Fleet compiled a selection of easily recognizable landmarks to direct the bombards to the drop sites, weather permitting. Since the primate site was wrapped in clouds the crew’s bombardier opened the envelope marked: secondary. When his scope matched the photo in front of him Commander Ashworth released Fat Man. It was not known at the time that the landmark that was used to target the city was the Urakami Cathedral. All who attend that mass were dispatched to meet their maker. This was the last time an Atomic weapon was dropped on practicing Christians.

SERENDIPITY

A drop in the ocean… So inconsequential and unimportant, it scarcely matters.

In the wider scale of things, insignificance is – for all practical purposes – nothing.

Nothing at all.

You are my drop in the ocean.

But, to somebody, you are far more – you are their world, their life: You are their everything. Or so they told you… But we’ll see about that.

Because, if they won’t pay up to set you free, I’m going to cut that rope with this knife, and you will drop into the cold, dark ocean depths below, and never be seen again.

TURA

Drop
———

There was a man who refused to pay taxes. He was not poor, and did not dispute the amount. He said only that he recognised no authority to make these exactions.

So perplexed was the magistrate that he referred the case to his superior, and thus it came before General Wei.

General Wei said, “The monsoon begins with a single drop. Thus may the meanest of men foretell the destruction of empires.” Then he had all involved with the case executed, and instructed the tax officials to act henceforth with high-handedness, to draw the anger of subjects upon themselves alone.

MARV

“Drop that lid, you little twit!” Santa shouted, coming up behind and grabbing Marcus the elf.

Marcus jumped up and turned to face Santa as the box flew from his lap.

“Well little fellow” Santa began, “Your little prank isn’t going to have the effect you were planning on” as Santa pulled out his Colt Python aiming at the elf and then he cocked the hammer.

“Now Santa” Mrs. Claus blushing, interjected, “After all, it was only a tiny winnie, little joke”

“Well little fellow, I guess you’ll be going for a sleigh ride on Christmas Eve instead.” Santa roared.

NORVAL JOE

Henry was tired of the rest of the pigeons.

They were stupid and boring and happy to sit on the roof top all day.

Adventure to this crowd was startling and flying to the next house when someone opened a door, below.

They all looked at him cross eyed when Henry suggested they drop bird bombs on the local cats sneaking through the bushes.

There had to be more to life than being a non-descript, cookie cutter copy, one of a million other, pigeon.

“Forget them. I’ll be a red tailed hawk,” he said and made the sky his limit.

PLANET Z

I used to love won ton soup, but it got boring quickly.

So, I’d try all the other soups at the Chinese restaurant.

Egg drop soup.

Hot and sour soup.

Spicy vegetable soup.

And they were all great.

But over the years, I’ve developed an allergy to eggs.

Egg drop soup is like a shotgun blast to my colon.

And I can’t eat much in the way of spicy foods, either.

Which rules out hot and sour soup. And the spicy vegetable soup.

So, I’m back to plain old boring won ton soup.

And smoking weed to make it interesting.

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
• Lizzie
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Danny
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Marv
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

TOM
(no audio)

Wrapped Up With a Bow

“What’s in the box,” asked Laura. Frankie replied, “Stuff.” “OOOOH” said Laura. “I want to see.” “Nope, you got to wait.” “I want to see it now.” “Not a chance. We open the box on HogFather’s day just as the sun rises.” “That sucks.” “Get over it.” Frankie placed the package under the yum-yum tree. “Moooooooooooom! Frankie wouldn’t let me open the box.” Much to Frankie horror Mom put the box in Laura’s hands and smiled. She tore it open to find a lump of coal. “Should have waited,” smile Frankie, until she clock him in the forehead with it.

MUNSI

Drop It

By Christopher Munroe

“Drop it like it’s Hot” is an amazing early 2000s club jam, quite possibly Snoop Dogg’s finest moment.

It is, however, horrible advice if you work at a resaurant. The food is always going to be hot and in spite of that it does need to be carried to the table safely.

Dropping things simply because they are hot means re-cooks, angry guests and wasted food. Frankly, in spite of how amazing we all agree Snoop D-o-double-g is, we cannot afford to be following his example.

It wouldn’t be economically viable.

In summery: Snoop Dogg is awesome, and you’re fired.

JEFFREY

The Boxer
by Jeffrey Fischer

Matt had an anger management problem. He would lash out at co-workers, kick holes in walls, and beat up hapless office equipment. His therapist suggested he learn to box to channel his aggression. Matt took the advice to heart.

One day his trainer said Matt was ready for an opponent in the ring. He laced his gloves and stepped into the ring with one of the regulars at the gym. Forty-five seconds later, Matt was back in his corner, bleeding and woozy. “What happened, kid?” the trainer asked. “You never got off a punch.”

“I dunno,” Matt replied. “My shrink told me to leave all my angry thoughts with the bag. When I looked into Juan’s eyes, I realized I had no quarrel with him. I couldn’t hit him.”

The Most Precious Gift
by Jeffrey Fischer

Jake was only seven, but he understood the true meaning of Christmas: presents, mainly for him. As early as October, he pestered me for one thing after another. Legos, trucks, superheroes, video games – you name it.

As I thought about what to get him, inspiration struck. On Christmas morning, Jake ripped apart the wrapping and eagerly opened the box to find… nothing. The box was empty. I told Jake, “You have the opportunity to use your imagination – can be anyone, do anything. You don’t need a specific toy.”

For some reason, Jake didn’t seem as appreciative as I had expected. He didn’t speak to me for two months. For that, I considered the box to be my most successful gift ever.

CHARLIE

She kept things in her box. Bits of string, small stones found on the beach, scraps of paper, the stump of a pencil, a few coins, and the first flower her boyfriend gave her. As she got older, she stuffed more and more things into her box. It was almost filled to the breaking point. Her family didn’t understand, and they admonished her for doing what she was doing. They didn’t want their daughter to break her box, or to imperil her health. Her box had been in the family for twenty years, and they wanted it for twenty more.

2nd

The box held all that I knew, all that I thought, and all that I produced. It was a fifty petabyte storage unit that was tethered to high speed fiber. It allowed me to back up all devices with access to my personal network, including my implant. I could backup to the cloud and to the box, itself. The box was still experimental, and the IBM/Amdahl chips inside were still in beta, as was the implant in my skull. If I wanted to go “off line”, I had to hold a small radio to my temple to switch it off.

3rd

She always thought far outside the box. In fact, many thought that she didn’t know what a box was. She was the top designer at GeenDozen…a firm in Holland. She surrounded herself with very capable designers, writers, and artists. They would bid on an assignment, and within a few days would have a workable solution, templates, and mockups to show to the client. Mariëlle kept her secret from her fellow workers. She would sneak out at lunch and consult with an old woman in the storefront across the street. The old woman would brew a special, red tea for Mariëlle.

LIZZIE

It was impossible not to notice the stench.

Postal Inspection officers opened the parcel. Dogs were called in to sniff the box for drugs and human remains. They found nothing.

The parcel was sent on its way.

The next day, the news reported the mysterious death of an elderly couple, after the mail was delivered to them.

No one mentioned the man with a grudge against the Postal Inspection Services, grumbling in his living-room.

Opening the box should have triggered an immediate lethal chemical reaction. Okay, it was a really bad idea to send the damn parcel to his parents…

RICHARD

Treasure

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Bilbo Laggins secured the ogre’s bonds, brushed off his hands, and headed off down the path to find the brute’s hoard.

Sure enough, behind the third oak on the right, hidden in a small cave, he found a large wooden box, secured with a solid looking padlock.

No problem – Laggins still carried the stake with which he’d clobbered the ogre; a couple of solid blows soon released the hasp, and with a smile, he carefully lifted the lid.

Staring at the glittering treasure, he began to think maybe this quest was worthwhile, after all!

Clearly Capable

The interview seemed to have gone well…

“Got to tell you son, I’m giving you the green light – you’ve got the engagement delta we need. Our people think outside the box, push the envelope and harness their vertical experiences in scalable rethinking!”

This didn’t sound like me at all.

“Are you sure I’m your guy?”

“Hell yes! We need to push the peanut forward on this… Get you onboard to start leveraging our effectiveness matrix.”

“So you’re offering me the job?”

“Yep. You’ve got the footprint that sits squarely in our operating model.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re a straight talker!”

TURA

Box

———

Abba Jerome visited Abba Genarius on the day of Our Lord’s birth, and gave him a box of Egyptian sweetmeats.

A year later, Abba Genarius visited Abba Jerome, and gave him that same box, still full, saying, “Thank you for this opportunity to resist the weakness of my body.”

A year later, Abba Jerome visited Abba Genarius, giving him that same box again, saying, “The virtue of abnegation cannot be contained.”

A year later, Abba Genarius gave the box to Abba Jerome, saying, “I cannot open this while my brother stands in want.”

Then they laughed and ate them together.

——

Music credit: “Chant from a Holy Book”, by Georges Gurdjieff, played by the Gurdjieff Folk Instruments Ensemble.

DANNY

How did that telemarketer know I was suffering from acid indigestion the exact moment he called, and he specifically was the cause of it despite the fact I was already taking Maalox? Is that what a premonition is supposed to feel like? Annoying? I feel trapped inside this large square like thing, what do you call it? I wish I was trapped in this thing last time I walked my deaf dog off leash, because I assure you, as soon as he sees that 1st car go by, he ain’t coming back no matter how much you call his name.

SERENDIPITY

So, you want to know what’s in the box?

Well, that would be telling… And it really is better for all concerned that you remain in ignorance, to be quite honest.

But when you look at me with those puppy dog eyes, it’s so hard to resist…

All right then, if you must, and if you’re really sure you can handle it, I might consider relenting. After all, what harm could it do?

I insist that it’s on my terms though: You come to me.

Call round tonight, and come alone – you know the address.

Just ask for Pandora.

ZACKMANN

The shopkeeper told me he wasn’t sure if he had a small lockable plastic box nor a three lock box. He had a heart shaped box for Always. He did have a toy Porsche Boxster driven by a boxer dog and a music box with a pro boxer dancing around the ring. I told him a dancing boxer seemed silly to me then he told me not to say anything around Manny or he would give me a Pacqui owie. Then I found the plastic ammo box. It might be strange that I purchased an ammo box to store medicine.

MARV

The Box.

Marcus the elf had always been the practical joker in Santa’s workshop. He took a box, drilled a large hole in the bottom, attached a lid and painted it like a Jack in the box. Then he painted the insides white, highlighting the hole in red. He then poked his finger through the hole and wiggled it around, Perfect!

As Mrs. Claus approached on her weekly inspection tour, he calmly sat with the box in his lap. When she stood in front of his station, he Flipped open the lid with both hands, smiled and asked, “Like the new Jack?”

NORVAL JOE

At the beginning of the 21st century several bored billionaires developed a plan to mark humanities place in galactic history. They gathered images from pivotal moments of life on earth, placed them in a crystal cube, and the cube into a protective titanium box.

When activated, the cube would flash the images in chronological order.

They placed the box in a probe and launched it toward the outer depths of space.

42 million years later an advanced civilization retrieved the probe from space, followed the diagram instructions on how to open it, removed the cube, and played in the box.

PLANET Z

Every Christmas, I wrap dozens of boxes and drop them off at the Toys For Tots.
Laptop computer boxes, chemistry set boxes, building block boxes… lots of boxes.
Nothing in them, mind you. Just the boxes. Empty boxes.
I pick them out of my neighbors’ trash cans.
Then, I wrap them up and give them to Toys For Tots.
Is it cruel?
Of course it is.
My cats love empty boxes.
I’m taking away their boxes and giving them to the kids.
Plus, they love to play in wrapping paper.
And the ribbons and bows, too.
Stupid Toys For Tots!