Scarecrow 2.0

It used to be that you could hang a shirt from a stick, put a hat on top, and scare off crows that way.
But these days, most crows aren’t scared by a traditional scarecrow.
So, farmers now fly drones around their fields to scare off the birds.
This works as long as the drones fly. Which isn’t very long, if you’re running on batteries.
While the drone charges, the birds feast.
But if you use ultra light-weight drones with solar panels, they’ll stay up all day long.
Then, all you have to worry about is running out of missiles.

Tricked

It’s cute when the kids dress up as ghosts and vampires, and then wander around the neighborhood begging for candy with “Trick or Treat!”
It’s not cute when the hundreds of children of Syrian refugees that the government settled here throw rocks through windows and torch churches and cars with “Allahu Ackbar!”
It’s hard to call them children when they’ve got beards. Sure, nineteen is still technically a teenager, but we try them as adults.
The government provides lawyers and community advocates. In and out of the jail they go.
And back to burning and looting.
We sure got tricked.

Weekly Challenge #494 – Us

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is 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:

Derpy girl

MUNSI

Ultimatum
By Christopher Munroe

You’re either with us, or against us.

Or, now that I think about it, you’ve never heard of us at all and have no opinion regarding us one way or the other.

In fact, given that we aren’t particularly notable, either for good or ill, chances are that it actually is the third thing that describes you.

So, anyway, you’re either with us, against us, or we’re nothing to you, have always been nothing to you, will always be nothing to you and you’re completely indifferent to us.

Probably the latter.

Now get off the fence and pick a side!

JEFFREY

Big Game
by Jeffrey Fischer

“They really are magnificent animals,” I told Taranj, my native guide.

“Indeed, sir.”

“And endangered, you say?”

“Very endangered. Hunted nearly to extinction.”

“And yet…”

“Sir?”

“We’re stuck in this tree while a hungry pride of lions waits for us. If we do nothing, we’ll eventually starve to death. If we try to run for it, we wouldn’t get more than a few feet before being mauled and eaten.”

“You summarized our situation quite well, sir.”

I sighed. “That’s it, then. Nothing else to do. I hate to do it, but it’s either us or them. We’ll have to shoot our way out.”

“Pardon me for pointing this out, but my rifle is at the base of the tree.”

“I see that. Go get it, Taranj!”

“What if I’m attacked?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

At Night

by Jeffrey Fischer

Briony snapped the light off then sat under the covers, listening. Her daddy told her there was no such thing as monsters, and she believed him. Still, every night she heard rustling sounds, and what she thought was whispering. Daddy said it was just house noises, but Briony wasn’t so sure.

When her ears picked up the whispering once again, she called out, “Who’s there? I can hear you, you know.”

Silence. Then, from below her, a gruff voice responded, “There’s no one here but us monsters under your bed. Get some sleep, kid.”

“Oh, okay.” Briony settled herself in the covers.

“Wait for it…” said the monster.

“Mommy! Daddy! Come quick – there are monsters under my bed!”

“Geez, kid, calm down. We’re monsters, nothing more. It’s not as though I said we’re from the government and we’re here to help. Then you’d have a reason to be scared.”

CHARLIE

Ultrasound (US) is used for a number of things. I used an inexpensive, portable unit for muscle stimulation and strengthening. Originally, Russian Muscle Stimulators were used as part of the Russian Olympic Team training. I made the decision to experiment, and tasked my device for the discrete, yet profound strengthening of my unit. The smooth muscle was able to adapt to minute tearing of the cellular walls of the pores, thereby making the pore cells larger and more capable of absorbing more blood. If anyone would like to purchase a device, documentation, and a log describing results, please email me.

RICHARD

#1 – Join us

‘Come and join us’, the flyer said – nothing else, just a telephone number.

I was intrigued enough to pick up the phone, half expecting a recorded bible message or telesales call centre. So, when my call was answered by a friendly and reassuring voice, I was a little surprised, to say the least.

I asked her to explain the mysterious invitation, and my surprise turned to incredulity – this was an opportunity too good to let pass by.

So, I joined them, and it was the best decision of my life.

You should too… Would you like the number?

#2 – The Golden Rule

Battered, bruised and exhausted, he staggered through the imposing gateposts, before collapsing into the mud, utterly exhausted.

He had finally made it – the fabled Lair of the Golden Monkeys!

Days later, now recovered from his ordeal, he was summoned to appear before the Grand Council.

“So, tell us: Why should we make you one of us?”

He told of his struggles and dedication, of long nights and countless hours of self-denial, of years of toil and the broken relationships. He told them of his striving for perfection and…

“No, no, no!” Interrupted the Great High Monkey.

“Keep it brief!”

KYM

We lay on my couch and I wondered if this was a bad idea. But I went through with it. My first one-night stand. It sucked. Had you EVER done this before, I wondered. But me, I was amazing apparently. I had everything you wanted and now I can’t get rid of you. You moved in and started causing too many extra dishes and wearing my socks. I wonder why you won’t stop breathing; you wonder how you got so lucky. Turns out, I’m not good at one-night stands. But dating sucks. So… this is it, huh? OK. Let’s have dinner.

LIZZIE

The us we used to be disappeared.

“How did this happen? When did we drift apart?” She did that, talk incessantly. I just couldn’t process what she was saying anymore. It was all a numbing blur.

I still remember the long walks at the beach, holding hands, the salty promises of eternal love.

I still remember, right before the wedding, the eagerness of that forbidden kiss and the way we looked up at the balcony and saw my future wife waiting.

We continued to meet secretly, but this us we used to be disappeared… There was just you and her.

SERENDIPITY

“If you want to be one of us, you have to drink our blood”, said Jenny, offering me a plastic cup.

I didn’t want to drink, but I desperately wanted to be in the gang, so I closed my eyes and swallowed the lot.

It was probably blackcurrant juice; I didn’t want to imagine what else they’d added to concoct their ‘blood’: It didn’t matter – I was in the gang, and staying for the sleepover!

Later that night, sinking my teeth into Jenny’s neck, I smiled at the sweetness of her blood and looked forward to happy days ahead.

ZACKMANN

“Have you ever been in one of those secret clubs?” asked the boy asked his dad.
“Not secret but very few know about uss, that is U double S.” replied his father
“Doesn’t that stand for United States Ship?” asked the son.
“In this case it stands for The Uberfans of Sanborn Smith. It’s currently a small group but someday we hope to be even bigger than bronies with an annual meeting called UssCon. So what do you think ” said father.
“Honestly father, I think maybe it was a bad idea to put a Hairy Mango into you Mango colada.”

TOM

Turtles all the Way Down

Ulysses and Sally were inseparable. Way beyond soulmates, they shared a particular way of looking at the world. It was all about the work. And the work was about to change everything. When it became clear their overlords weren’t about to let them control the project in a manner that served the great good, they made a run for it. “I guess it’s going to be us and against them,” said Sally. Ulysses booked passage to Peking by way of Tokyo. The media call them traders, the government press hard to get them return to the US, to no avail.

NORVAL JOE

Bambi handed Dergle a plate of spagetti and sat with him on the couch.
“You don’t have to sleep in your van in some parking lot,” Bambi said. “You can sleep here. On my couch.”
“B,b,b,but,” Dergle stuttered. “It would be just you and me here. Just us. All alone.”
“Yeah. So?” Bambi asked.
“I wouldn’t be right. We can’t sleep in the same apartment. We’re not married,” Dergle said, blushing furiously.
“Why?” Bambi sounded upset. “I’d be in my room. You’d be on the couch. You could have your dog be a chaperone.”
Dergle could only shake his head.

TURA

US
———
Once upon a time, there was an ugly country called Uk. It was cold and damp, and it always rained. Because it was an ugly country, its people were ugly, and they did ugly things. They invaded a beautiful country across the sea, inhabited by beautiful peoples, who did beautiful things, but Uk enslaved them all.

Then the peoples said, Uk cannot conquer all of Us together. United, We drove Uk away. Then We drove ugliness away wherever it was, and at last the world was ruled by Us.

And that is how the US, the Universal State, was born.

PLANET Z

We’ve been together fifteen years.
But how together are we?
We have separate bank accounts.
We have separate credit cards.
We file our taxes separately, do our own laundry separately, and because someone has to watch the cats, vacation separately, too.
I work early, and she works late.
So, by the time she gets home, I’m asleep.
And when I wake up, she’s asleep.
We’re together on the weekends, though.
Watching football. Or baseball. Or basketball.
Or picking up plants from the nursery down the street.
A nice dinner out now and then.
What more can you ask for, really?

Restless Home

It started with hanging sheets around the place.
Then, we added battery-powered fans to make them flutter a bit.
Okay, in the dark, with some smoke machines, they kinda looked like ghosts.
But they weren’t good enough.
We rigged up holographic projectors, and bounced their images off of plastic sheets.
And we went full HD with the animated visuals.
They totally scared the shit out of everyone.
And several of the nursing home residents died from heart attacks.
The rest called the state agency in to shut us down.
Yeah, we’re all out of work. But fuck it. We rocked.

Spell Book

So, you stole the witch’s spellbook?
Big deal.
Do you know the language she used?
The alphabet? Her handwriting?
It’s not just the words, but hand gestures and chemicals.
And those things in the jars.
Do you use the left eye of the newt or the right?
It’s not just a cookbook.
The spellbook is a living, breathing thing.
It’s a part of her.
And she can feel its loss. She will reach out to it.
She will find it. She will find us.
Unless we burn it. Tonight.
Right now.
Don’t breathe the smoke.
Don’t look into the flame.

Haunted

Halloween is around the corner.
Pumpkins.
Witches.
Ghosts.
Trick or treaters.
I read in the paper that pet shelters won’t adopt out black cats during October because people do awful things to them.
One person wanted two cats for decorations for their party.
Decorations. For a party.
It’s so wrong.
Cats are not decorations. They have souls, like us.
And when they’re gone?
Halloween is around the corner.
I get out the plastic pumpkins. Then the witches. And the ghosts.
And a paper black cat, arched over three orange letters:
Boo.
I put it away.
I miss him so much.

The train station

Guiseppe the Organ Grinder used to play in the old train station every day.
He brought with him Pablo, his helper monkey, and dressed him in a little suit. Pablo would dance and work the crowd for tips.
When Guiseppe died, his ghost played the organ for the crowds.
Pablo still danced and worked the crowd, even after he, too, died.
Then the Germans bombed the old train station into oblivion.
We built a new train station, far from the old haunted one.
And it’s much nicer and cleaner.
Because, even when he was alive, Guiseppe couldn’t play for shit.

Mommy Tax

After every Halloween, my mother would pick out pieces of my candy and take them for herself.
“It’s the Mommy Tax,” she said.
The Mommy Tax never included crappy popcorn balls or sugar-free junk. It was always good stuff, like Snickers bars.
And not those crappy fun-size ones, either. Full-sized Snickers bars.
So, I carried two bags: Crappy stuff in one, good stuff in the other.
Then I’d hide the bag with the good stuff before coming inside.
Later, I’d sneak out to get the good bag.
Then I learned, she was checking for tampering.
Nobody ever poisons crappy candy.

Too Soon

The Halloween after 9/11, a lot of kids went around dressed as firemen and policemen to honor those who died in the World Trade Center attacks.
A few went around as soldiers and officers to honor those who died at The Pentagon.
Did any go as pilots or flight attendants? Or passengers?
Or the stockbrokers and businesspeople who died in the buildings?
I just assumed that everyone who dressed as a ghost was the ghost of a 9/11 victim.
So, I shouted “TOO SOON!” at them all, and slammed the door.
Okay, so I forgot to buy candy.

Weekly Challenge #493 – Mirror

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com.

This is 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:

Huggy

JEFFREY

The Borrower
by Jeffrey Fischer

Hank and Stu were the best of friends, so when Hank needed a loan of a hundred bucks Stu didn’t hesitate. Ditto when Hank asked to borrow Stu’s car, and when Hank wanted to move in with Stu after Hank’s eviction.

Stu had to admit he was relieved when Hank moved out, only to find that Hank had stolen Stu’s identity and was living large on fraudulently-obtained credit. Good pal or not, this was a step too far. Stu started to dial the police when cops showed up at his door. Seems Hank had been involved in a hit-and-run in Stu’s car. Hank must have figured Stu would lend Hank five to ten years of Stu’s life, because that’s what good buddies are for.

Ten-Four
by Jeffrey Fischer

During the 1970s, my dad succumbed to the CB radio craze and bought a Radio Shack unit for the car. We rarely talked to anyone, but Dad paid attention when truckers warned one another about speed traps.

One day he had the opportunity to return the favor. We had encountered a state trooper with his radar gun out, parked just over the crest of a hill on the interstate. Dad braked just in time, then thumbed the microphone. “Hey out there, be on the lookout for Smokey past the ridge at mile marker 179. He’s in the median. Ugly hat with a radar gun. Ten-four.”

A few minutes later, we heard the bleep of a siren as a trooper pulled us over. The cop leaned into the car and said, “Ugly hat, huh?” That’s how Dad learned the police also listened to CB radio chatter.

MUNSI

On the Nature of Friendship

By Christopher Munroe

You can’t spell “Good Buddy” without “Good Bud,” and that’s why I believe that a true friend will help you find marijuana.

That follows, yeah?

I don’t often smoke the stuff myself, it puts me to sleep, but if somebody comments on wanting some I like the challenge, it makes for a fun game for me.

I’m a grown-assed adult, with zero drug connections, but I’m reasonably intelligent and extremely tenacious, and if I want to buy drugs, then BY ZOD I am going to find someone to sell them!

Yeah, I’m also surprised I don’t get arrested more often…

CHARLIE

My good buddy is my friend, Prince. Prince is a rare Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog. He is mid-sized, but only in stature. His IQ was tested at the University of Davis Veterinary School, and measured 130. 130 is a few points higher than the mean IQ of Harvard students. Prince knows over 15,000 words, including common directives like sit, etc. Commands are frequently strung together to form intricate instructions like: “Go outside, evacuate your bowels then come inside for your supper and a drink. Be sure your anus is clean, and wipe your paws before entering. Thank you, Good Buddy.”

RICHARD

#1 – Good Buddy

From the moment I saw it, ‘Every Which Way But Loose’ was my all-time favourite film. More than that, it shaped my career and set me on a lifetime’s quest to live the dream of the long-distance big rig driver.

I won’t say it was easy – it’s a hard lifestyle and a lonely road we truckers drive, but we’re a real community, and sometimes, when I’m perched way up high, looking down on those lesser mortals hanging around my wheels, I can see myself as Clint Eastwood, just like in the film.

Almost…

All I need now, is an orangutan!

#2 – Charlie

I had my doubts about Charlie.

Sure he could write a good tune and his band had bags of enthusiasm, but he just didn’t have the voice for it, or much else, for that matter… He was no Elvis, that’s for sure!

Presley had the hips, the lips, the looks and that look in his eye – not to mention the voice of an angel; what did Charlie have? A pair of spectacles and some catchy rhythms. There was no comparison.

Then he played me his song: ‘That’ll be the day’, and I was hooked.

“That’s good, that’s real good, Buddy!”

KYM

Dear Good Buddy,

It probably seems strange to you that I’m writing you a letter since we talk everyday. Some things are just better expressed in writing. I’ve known you… god… a lifetime, right? In that time, you’ve been an amazing person. Remember you went skydiving because you’re afraid of heights? And you sang in front of 5000 people because you have stage fright? You were… no, ARE my rock star. These last few months have been hard, I know, but it will get better. I’m here for you. Don’t make me leave. Please put the gun down.

Love,
Yourself

LIZZIE

Call him, call him.

He couldn’t call him… What about Helen? And the kids?

That nagging voice at the back of his mind wouldn’t give up though. Just call him and get it over with.

His life would crumble to pieces or it would start anew. The lying, the hiding, the cheating, the faking, all would be a faint recollection of a tortured past.

But the damn questions he’d have to face. Where did you meet him? When did you meet him? Did you ever love me?

Call him. “Hello? Martin? This is Frank.”

That was it. It started. Finally.

SERENDIPITY

A good buddy is hard to find, but you’re the very best.

You have all the qualities, and more, that set you above all the rest.

A good buddy is always there for you, holding your hand, wiping away your tears and helping you back onto your feet.

A good buddy laughs at your jokes, knows your secrets and shares the good times and the bad.

So I know you won’t mind taking the rap for what I’ve done… And, I know you really won’t mind that I used your carving knife, covered in your finger prints.

Thanks, good buddy.

TOM

BrainDead and Damn Proud of It

What do you do when you have no idea of what to write about? Parse the Topic. Well the root of buddy is bud and by context this would be a reference to a person whom shares their father’s name, better than the diminutive Junior, but not by much. Metaphorically a pre-photosynthetic appendage on a family tree. Now placing a “Y” at the end further diminutifies the term, double diminutive. It doesn’t get better, for comparisons: Best, Better, Good, good is pretty much a 3rd rate adjective. Thus you end up with a triple diminutive term of endearment. Ten Four.

Bad Zeitgeist

You know your Fad has reached maximum exposure when someone writes a humorous pop song. The Streaker, King of the Road, Beethoven’s Third Symphony. Did anyone write a pet rock song? When CB-ing smoky and the bandited into mom and pop America the doseit droning of “Convoy” oozed out of every radio pore. In short order even your Grandmother started saying, “10-4 Good Buddy. Right at you Rubber Duck” I wish to god I didn’t have to confess this, but while CB-ing I was actually wearing a leisure suit. Did anyone ever write a song about Polyester Nehru Leisure Suit?

TURA

Good Buddy
———
The original “Good Buddy” app was just a chatbot. You’d let it read your social media accounts, and it would learn to be your virtual companion. It really took off when we bought a robotics company and created the Good Buddy robot companion. We got so huge that when Facebook tried to acquire us, we bought them.

The real money is in the advertising. If you ever chatted with your Good Buddy about where to take a holiday, you went where someone paid us to suggest.

The NSA would love to get access, and “Don’t Be Evil” is so yesterday…

ZACKMANN

Gil and I have been friends for a long time. Every few months when our routes match, we’ll stop and have lunch. Gil has a teddy bear that he calls Monkey McKay. Today we stopped in a truck stop called the Uncharted. After Gil picked out a new souvenir shirt for Monkey McKay, he met me near the Little Debbie’s wafers. Sure enough just like last time I stopped for peanut butter wafers two cars turned into giant robots then started to fight. So here I am stuck in the Uncharted’s dessert aisle with Gil again and his little buddy.

SPATE

Good Buddy

Strangest man I ever met. Everywhere he went, he would be talking to his
imaginary friend called ‘Good Buddy’.

At first I thought he was talking to me. But his words were aimed into empty
airspace and over time I realized I was outside of the conversation.

Then one day I found him folded over, crying.

I put my hand on his shoulder as comfort.

“Good Buddy died” he choked between sobs.

“Reality,” I offered with a sympathetic shrug.

He looked at me squinting through tears. “You don’t understand. He died
twenty years ago today. Good Buddy was my son.”

(music: Galoshes by Podington Bear is licensed under Creative Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 International License / curated by
freemusicarchive.org)

NORVAL JOE

Dergle walked into the Bust-a-Gut 24 hour gym.
Long John followed, but stopped at the door and sat.
Dergle turned back, patted the wiener dog, and said, “You’re a good buddy. I’ll be out in an hour.”
The owner, Rick Racker, smiled from behind the counter.
“Can I pay you cash for a month membership, so I can use your shower?” Dergle asked.
“The water’s not working at your place?” Rick asked.
“No. I don’t exist anymore,” Dergle said. “So no one will rent to me.”
“That’s pretty harsh,” Rick said. “Park your van in my lot, if you want.”

PLANET Z

Dr. Pepper used to advertise that you should drink a bite to eat at 10, 2, and 4.

But if you drank that much Dr. Pepper, your teeth would rot from all the sugar, and you’d be dead from diabetes before forty.

Hell, you’d be better off drinking vodka that often and early.

Unless, of course, you’re a truck driver.

Cletus always kept a jugs of Smirnoff’s in his cab.

He crossed the median line one day and went head-on with a church van.

He was driving a Dr. Pepper truck.

See? I told you that shit will kill you.