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

CHARLIE

Lennie’s first day on the job had him working in the basement of the courthouse. He kept hanging around the foreman’s office and he pestered the old guy. “Go pound sand down a rat hole!” Lennie got the message and went to the basement to start working. The basement was full of rats, and there was a large pile of sand in the corner. Lennie picked up a heavy wooden maul and started pounding sand into the big hole in the middle of the floor. Two yards of sand went into the rat hole until Lennie was exhausted, but determined.

#2

The passage of time is analogous to the flow of the sand in an hourglass. Once the hourglass is inverted, the sand does not stop for anyone or anything. Also, the time that we have to live decreases continuously, just as the sand in the top of the hourglass does. My lady friend has been told that she has an hourglass figure, although the sand has moved quickly and unforgivingly to the bottom of the glass, with no chance that it can be reversed. Lennie, who I spoke of earlier, has reached his middle years, but as an inverted hourglass.

JEFFREY

The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre
by Jeffrey Fischer

Every year was the same: I would rack my brain to think of a Valentine’s Day gift my wife would really enjoy – not just empty calories in a box of chocolates, or overpriced flowers that would be gone inside a week. Every year she would open the package, look at what I bought, look at me, and tell me to try again next year. I realize now that the Calphalon pan, the Dyson vacuum cleaner, and the portable iron for traveling were all mistakes. I vowed that the dagger looks would be a thing of the past.

My problem in previous years was that I bought something I assumed she would like. This time, I thought hard about what I would like to get. That’s when inspiration struck. I jumped in the car to pick out the perfect present.

How was I supposed to know that women don’t think a belt sander is particularly romantic?

Graduation
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ralph had an IQ north of 140 and scores of 800 on both his Math and English SATs, yet here he was, in summer school when the rest of his friends had already graduated. Ralph’s problem: a failing grade in Shop. If he didn’t pass this summer course, he wouldn’t be starting college in the fall.

His problem the last time had been his work-working project. His chess board had so many rough surfaces that the Shop teacher had to see the school nurse for his multiple splinters. Ralph knew he wouldn’t repeat this mistake.

The teacher looked puzzled at the object Ralph placed in his hands. The unknown piece was smooth, all right, but wafer-thin. Ralph explained, “It’s a three-dimensional representation of a two-dimensional surface.”

Ralph passed, but his report card made it clear that the only reason was that Mr. Richter didn’t want to see him again.

RICHARD

The Gospel According to Norman: The Parable of the Wise and Foolish Builders

There were two men who wished to build themselves new homes.

One chose the cheap option, building his house upon the sand. The sea view was to die for, but those in the know shook their heads scornfully.

The other man chose to build on a solid foundation far inland. The cost was ruinous, but he considered it worthwhile.

Then a huge storm came and blew down the house built on sand.

But the first man was wise, and well insured: He made more on the payout than the house had cost, and laughed all the way to the bank!

LIZZIE

The beach was deserted.
They sat close together and held hands.
It was done.
“The casket is lovely, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He agreed.
The incoming tide threatened to reach them.
He looked at his hand. He could still feel the stickiness.
“I can’t believe my husband is gone. Aren’t you happy?”
He looked at the horizon. He wasn’t that sure anymore.
“Do you love me?” she purred.
Eventually, he’d have to spend money on a second casket; already he could see that coming.
Resenting her clinginess, he vowed never to celebrate Valentine’s Day again. It was too damn expensive.

SERENDIPITY

We had a lovely day at the beach – the sun shone, without a cloud in the sky.

I can’t remember the last time I had such fun! We strolled along the promenade, played the penny arcades and feasted on fish and chips, as seagulls entertained us on the seafront.

With the day drawing to a close, we rested on the beach, watching the waves.

Ignoring my partner’s screams, I relaxed in the fading sunlight. Buried to his neck in sand, it was only a matter of time before the advancing tide would silence his protests.

Such a lovely day!

MUNSI

A Love Note

By Christopher Munroe

I don’t like sand.

It’s coarse, and it’s rough and it’s irritating, and it gets everywhere.

Not like here, here everything’s soft, and smooth.

And it’s just like the ocean, under the moon.

That’s the same as the emotion that I get from you.

You’ve got the kind of loving that can be so smooth, yeah.

Give me your heart, make it real, or else forget about it…

And so you see, Padme, while I do hate sand, you’re not like sand, and so I do love you.

Because, rather than being anything like sand, you are my sweet Sand-tana…

TOM

Sand Man
Mother tucked Timmy into bed. “Sand Man’s coming Time to go to sleep,” she
sang and turned out the light. All night long Timmy saw faces in the dark.
Some grinned like Jack O Lanterns. Others like the distorted drawing in
the family bible. Every time Timmy slipped off he heard a wind whip sand
against the window of his room and his eyes popped open. The next morning
a bedraggled Timmy stumbled downstairs to breakfast. The house was empty.
No mom, no dad, no little sister. It was so quiet, just the sound of sand
tapping at the windows.

Cheap Thrills

One of my favorite memories of growing up in the Midwest was digging
school and going to the dunes. If it was Monday it was Indiana Dunes. If
it was Friday it was Michigan Dunes, which was the cooler of the two.
Major sand in Holland, Michigan. Loop a rope through a big old piece of
cardboard, jump off the top, and scream down the side of the dunes like a
toboggan run. Well, that was the idea, but rarely execute. Half way down
you would flip and slid head first into the sand. Damn good fun that was.

Sandy

“Mom why did you name be Sandy?” Mary Margret Sullivan smiled and remember
the Our Lady of Grace’s Retreat in Santa Cruz. The night she and Chasity
O’Toole snuck down to the beach and spent the night drinking beer with a
bunch of Austrian surfers. Both of them didn’t get on the bus back to Ohio
and end up at Berkeley. George was such a gentleman, but not the dad. She
knew she would tell her daughter about that night, but not tonight. “Want
to go to the beach tomorrow?” asked mom. “Can Mary O’Toole come with?”
“Sure Honey.”

TURA
Sand
———

I once had to get away for a bit— never mind why. This friend puts me onto a mate of his, runs a bar in Spain. I gets across the Channel on a freighter, hitchhike through France and into Spain. I’ve only got handwritten directions, but anyway, long story short, I walk into the place about eight in the evening. The locals all go silent and watch. I say “Coffee”, just like that, same word everywhere. I get this thimbleful of black stuff. It tasted like sand.

And that was my first experience of REAL coffee. Haven’t had instant since.

NORVAL JOE

A wise man built his house upon a rock and when the winds blew and the rains fell the building weathered the storm and remained in tact. He laughed at another man who he deemed foolish for building his house upon the sand.

The other man replied, “I plant my taters in sandy land.”

The wise man agreed, “Then, perhaps that isn’t so foolish.”

The second man’s house endured unexpected rains and winds without being washed away, but all the local cats dug in the sand to bury their waist. Though he had many potatoes, they smelled like cat crap.

PLANET Z

One day, you’re here.
The next, you’re gone.
And someone takes your place. My place. Our place.
You don’t own anything. It owns you, for a little while.
Until it finds someone else to have it.
And the person after them.
What is now? Now is the next yesterday.
Just a series of the next yesterdays.
There is no tomorrow. It’s just a now that hasn’t happened yet.
A yesterday that’s already come and gone.
You? Me?
We only write our names in sand.
The next wave comes, and wipes us clean.
The waves never end.
Wiping everything clean.

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:

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

LIZZIE

One good deed and Frank would move up to the next level.
When he arrived at the lake, he saw an alien fighting helplessly to stay afloat, sinking in the water every now and then.
Should he do something? Or just watch the tragedy unfold?
To think that he had made fun of the guy who got the #10… Helping ten old ladies cross the street seemed easy enough.
What should he do? Laura or revenge?
Half an hour later, Frank took off.
Laura would have to wait.
Next card.

JEFFREY

Love Hurts
by Jeffrey Fischer

They laughed at the same things, enjoyed candlelit dinners and long, romantic walks. They held hands and kissed. It was a whirlwind romance, but he knew she was The One. She said she felt the same way. He sensed hesitation in her voice. When pressed, she said she wasn’t sure she could leave her pet hamster to spend her life with him. He said he understood but hoped she would choose him. “Meet me at the Dallas airport at sunset this Saturday. I’ll be at the security line. If you’re not there… well, I’ll know your choice.”

He waited for more than two hours with no sign of her. Dejected, he left. Only then did it occur to him that perhaps he should have specified Dallas-Fort Worth, in case she flew to Love Field.

The Measure of Love
by Jeffrey Fischer

How do you know if you are loved? Love is not the giddy moments of romance, of infatuation, but something deeper, something meaningful. Love is not blaming him for failing to ask for directions and getting lost, making you two hours late to your best friend’s destination wedding. Love is holding him after he vomits away his excessive drinking at the reception after the wedding. Love is understanding, not blaming, when he gets some of the vomit on your $300 shoes you bought for the wedding. Those shoes are now ruined, and love also is not mentioning a second time that they cost $300. Well, a guy can hope, can’t he?

CHARLIE

Two, lovesick lovebirds, sitting on a loveseat, found themselves lovelocked due to the awkward and challenging position they took in their most loveable lovemaking during the lovefest. Local EMTs were called in to uncoil the pair, necessitating the use of the jaws of life and subsequent removal of the padded arms of the seat to extricate the portly pair from the furniture. The host threw a large blanket over them as they were being freed from the ghastly entanglement. The party goers were aghast, and the staff was shocked and sickened by what they witnessed. Smart phone images were traded.

RICHARD

#1 – The Gospel According to Norman: The Sermon on the Grassy Knoll

You have heard it said that you should love your neighbour as yourself, however I say to you, exercise extreme caution in loving your neighbour, especially if your neighbour’s husband is strong of build and quick to anger.

You have also heard it said you should love your enemy – this is pure foolishness and will lead to nothing good.

I tell you the truth, it is far better to find somebody inoffensive, unattached and without a truck load of emotional baggage to lavish your love upon, for that is the way of enlightenment, and a quiet and peaceful life.

#2 – If

“If you loved me, you would”

That was her stock phrase, it usually worked too. Maybe I was a pushover, but I knew what I was doing, so I played along.

She had it all: Parties, presents, holidays, while I quietly waited in the background for my moment.

Then she had the affair.

She came crawling back, tearful and repentant, begging for forgiveness… “If you loved me, you would”, she argued.

But I didn’t love her – I loved her money. So I divorced her, won the house, half her investments, a good chunk of her pension and the car.

#3 – Let her go

They do say, ‘If you really love her, let her go’, and, when it became obvious that my infatuation for her was never going to be reciprocated, I did the honourable and right thing.

I let her go.

Although, not before I’d secreted a GPS tracker in her car, hired a private detective to follow her 24/7 and set up remote cameras in every room of her house.

When you love someone that much, letting them go doesn’t mean you have to let go.

Sadly, justice – like love – is blind and the court didn’t see it my way.

TOM

1. Silly Little Love Song

Four guys once sang: All You Need Is Love. While romantically reasonable,
not so useful in the real world of commerce. Try paying a grocery bill
with that. Or your rent, gas, and electric. Or your credit card charges
for extra bubbles in Panda Pop. Kevlar over love sure could’ve helped
John. Advanced cancer serum versus love, bad choice George. Hey Paul I
think you need a more encompassing prenup. Wait a second, that last guy
sure looks happy. Despite fame and fortune, the fixation of a generation,
maybe he has found true …. Don’t believe it for a moment.

2. Gail

I’ve been in love with Gail for just inside 30 years. She is my best
friend, the person I want to be with. The first face I long to see, the
last when darkness falls. In a world of cross agendas Gail is one of the
few people who rises above the fray. Totally honest and deeply
compassionate. A power dry wit that fires with laser accuracy. A gifted
health provider who has literally saved dozens of lives. I’m honored to be
her partner and try as best as I can to bring, mirth, whimsy, and joy to
her life.

3. Just the Way I See It

To inflict minor mental anguish on my niece is a joy unparalleled. Case in
point while on long trips in a car all music most be categorized as one of
the following: Love Song or Lullaby. Not an easy thing to do with the
Dropkick Murphys, but doable. I once tried to make the argument for Whip
it by Devo under love song, but Zen was having none of that and countered
with: It’s just the type of Lullaby to sing after reading: Go the Fuck To
Sleep. Ok all of you try this! Star Spangled Banner: Love Song or
Lullaby?

SERENDIPITY

All you need is love, they say.

I disagree. What you really need is to be completely lacking in morals and integrity; to be utterly ruthless and completely without compassion.

If you can back that up with fanaticism, lethal firepower and an iron fist, then trust me, you’ll have the upper hand over mere love every time.

Ask any despotic tyrant to choose between love or brute force and I can tell you what their answer will be.

And the best thing of all… The harsher you treat them, the stronger and deeper the love your minions have for you.

TURA

Love, or,

A memory of my father, all that remains

———

My father’s first love was the violin. He could have made it his career, but with a family to support after the War, and no job security in the music profession, he went into school teaching. He came to hate the job, but lived by his choices.

He had character. Seriousness. Proficient at everything he did: music, golfing, fly fishing, supporting a family. An iron constitution too, until the smoking caught up with him.

He died at 74, and I still regret not having known him better. But all his generation are gone now, and only fragments of memory remain.

MUNSI

Romance

By Christopher Munroe

I hate them.

I hate them all.

These fucking people with their fucking love, celebrating as though it made them special.

It does not make them special, they are not special. Nobody is special, and nothing means anything.

But you can’t tell them that, because they must celebrate love.

“Ooooooh!” they say, “Surely my perfect love will protect me from the icy hand of death!”

Nothing will protect you from the icy hand of death.

And as I sit here, in my turtleneck and beret, smoking long, black cigarettes, I hold them in nothing but the most abject of contempt…

ZACKMANN

My friend who works for an ad firm got me into one of those “If you love it why don’t you marry it?” ads. Since I love Lefse, I was happy to do it. Until someone told the police I ate my wife. I didn’t actually marry the lefse. My current cellphone provider doesn’t have roaming outside of North America. My real life wife, who is in fact not lefse, is visiting family in Asia. If you can’t explain that to the judge at least keep me from being sentenced until the end of the month when she returns home.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle drove away from the Widow Finklestien’s house wondering how she could remember Long John, but not himself. How much time had he spent at her home in the last six months since the Dolly Cockles were born?

Certainly, he had lost confidence in himself, even stopped believing in himself, but should that have caused those who were close to him to forget him completely?

Bambi still remember him. Does that mean she likes him more than Widow Finklestien did?

He turned to the dog in the passenger seat. “You’ll always love me, won’t you, boy?”

Long John barked, “Yes.”

PLANET Z

On Valentine’s Day.
Back in grade school.
We’d bring in shoe boxes.
In art class, we’d decorate the shoe boxes.
With glitter, sparkles, and ribbons.
And make mailboxes for valentines.
Then, in homeroom, we’d put out the mailboxes.
And go from mailbox to mailbox.
Putting in our valentines.
No roses. No chocolates. No diamonds. No necklaces.
No fancy cards, either.
Just cheap store-bought, dollar-a-bag slips of paper.
With crappy art and words on them.
Today, I made a shoebox mailbox.
And left it out on my desk.
Five minutes later, my cat was it in.
Asleep.
Best valentine ever.