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
• Charlie
• Lizzie
• Ana
• Jeffrey
• Ami
• Aubrey
• Richard
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Tura
• Norval Joe
• Justin the Space Turtle
• Planet Z

MUNSI

My New Program

By Christopher Munroe

Here’s my pitch:

Our contestants, wild, sexy twentysomethings all, arrive at the house on the first day and are told to wait for the host to come and let them in.

The host, obviously, never comes, and the series is filmed in front of the house as, over the course of several days, without provisions beyond whatever they might have brought with them, they give up on ever being on TV and walk away…

The last, half starved, exhausted contestant still waiting, once the others have left, will be declared the winner.

“The Line” will premier this autumn, on NBC.

CHARLIE

Aaron crossed the line at every opportunity. He made it a point to shock, offend and irritate a dozen or more people every day. He wore t-shirts or hoodies with insulting and profane phrases, and adorned his jacket or fleece with even more offensive patches and buttons. His ability to rouse people’s ire was astonishing. The t-shirt he wore to his monthly Kiwanis meeting this morning was emblazoned with the words: “Nobody knows I’m a Lesbian.” Aaron got laughs from folks that were hip to sarcasm and black humor, but he only got grimaces and stink eye from the rest.

#2

Little Leo was a terrible student. He couldn’t draw a straight line if he didn’t have a straight edge to set his chalk against. However, he would practice for hours. He would draw the figure, common faces in the street, and copy sculpture in the church. Leo drew a lot of penises and many of his male figures were very feminine. The contemporaries of Leo accused him of being a Sodomite, either out of jealousy or rumors circulated at the time. Leo went on to create many famous works, including The Mona Lisa and the earliest drawing of the helicopter.

#3

Living below the “poverty line” and taking advantage of various public charities, exemptions, and subsidies was an art form. Bob even used the food bank. He had accumulated a couple of hundred thousand dollars, so he put all the money in his cousin’s name, and claimed several big, gambling losses over a period of five years. He drove an old car, dressed shabbily and let his yard go to weed. He kept to himself, and walked as often as the weather allowed. The utility companies and the tax assessor believed him when he reported a very low income. It worked.

#4

Lois delivered her line. She left the set and went to the parking lot to sit in her car. She had another small part after lunch. She ate and returned to the set. Her training at UCLA was demanding, and summer stock parts were helpful to polish her craft. The director called the actors back, and they shot the new film for the next couple of hours. Lois was more nervous than usual as her line was coming up. She lay there with her ankles locked behind her ears. “Sock it to me, Boatswain Mate, Murphy. Sock it to me!”

LIZZIE

The blue line on the floor was in sight. Damien waited eagerly. Stardom, they said. He stepped out of the vehicle and stood on his side of the line. He had thought about taking some food and some clothes with him. But he knew he’d have to wear a special suit anyway. They’d provide food too. Beaming, Damien stepped over the line. The portal sucked him in and minced him into little portions, wrapping him in some sort of plastic. He didn’t look bad in it. However, it had never crossed his mind that he would become the damn food.

ANA

Where would we be without the line?

We’d be stuck standing in line instead of walking the line.

The shortest distance between any two points is a straight line.

My line is never straight. My line ends up looking like scribbles.

Is anybody’s line ever straight?

Time to cross the road but there is a long line of traffic.

I might never cross the road. The line lasts forever.

Oh finally the end of the line. Time to cross the road.

I get to stand in the lunch line.

I certainly end up in line often.

I need a book.

JEFFREY

Getting the Point

Smith picked up the closest pen, a fine marker, and drew a line a third of the way across the page. He considered for a moment, then selected a medium-nib fountain pen with which to draw a second, wider line below the first. Finally, he chose a pen with a double-broad nib, the widest and wettest pen he owned, which he used primarily for signing documents. He made two more underlines, digging into the paper – the second time so hard the nib flexed.

“I’m not sure how much clearer I can be,” he told Jones, standing in front of Smith’s desk looking perplexed. Bold, all capitals, and now with four underlines. “YOU’RE FIRED!”

Useful Skills
by Jeffrey Fischer

In high school, I worked on the school newspaper, called the Brandywine *Line*. I’m not sure where the name came from – perhaps the founders liked the pleasing rhyme. We all wrote articles, made up headlines, and helped typeset the paper on ancient equipment, gluing articles and illustrations in place on the page and pasting corrections over the errata.

Although only one of us made a career in journalism, I think we learned some valuable skills during our late nights. Oh, not in typesetting: those machines were outdated even in the 70s. Not in composing headlines, either: creating mildly risque puns on school nicknames is a skill, to be sure, but less valuable than one might think. The real value was in having nerdy boys and nerdy girls learn to interact with the opposite sex. Just don’t tell our parents.

AMI

I found it, a beautiful crystal ball as clear as that perfect ice cube in a refreshing drink commercial. Boxed carefully for shipping in white tissue nestled in air-filled plastic pillows and addressed to my dear sister, the stock broker. She’ll laugh; she needs a laugh.

I quick-step up the building entrance calculating the line likely formed from the number of cars parked in front of the red brick icon. I’ll be out of here in noooooooo, how can this be? I pay my dues for being a good sister and head home to find a crystal ball for me.

AUBREY

Johnny Cash plays on the radio as we drive. The windows are down and warm summer air weaves through my hair as I lean out the passenger window. I get the feeling I’ll never experience something quite like this again, as we leave the funeral.

It’s strange how death can make you feel so alive. How songs become memories.

Because you’re mine, I walk the line. The words echo in my head as I look over at him, his eyes are on the road, on what is ahead of us. I can’t spend too much time looking behind, looking back.

RICHARD

#1 – That’s Life

Bombed, shot at, crawling through muddy trenches under fire… Rescuing people from fires and the brink of death… Infiltrating foreign regimes… Giving humanitarian aid in disaster zones.

Incredible challenges faced by remarkable people daily, and when you try to give them their due, their unassuming response? “It’s all in the line of duty”.

I understand that completely. After all, every day I battle with the stress and uncertainty of public transport, wrestle with packed city streets, suffer the trials of dealing with idiots in meetings and pointless telephone calls.

But, you know what?

It’s all in the line of duty.

#2 – Checkout

I joined the line at the checkout with the usual feeling of inevitability.

I knew every other line would move forward at a sprint, whilst mine crawled. I knew the person in front would have a million coupons. Chances are, someone would break a box of eggs, have their card declined and spend ages packing and repacking bags.

With a sigh, I resigned myself to fate.

“Excuse me, sir – everyone’s waiting!”

Damn! My turn. I fumbled for my bags, wallet and change, dropping my box of eggs in the process.

The exasperated sigh behind me told a familiar story!

#3 – The Gospel according to Norman: The Parable of the Unpaid Dues

It so happened a gambler fell upon hard times, losing all his wealth, and becoming a beggar in the marketplace.

“Woe is me,” he exclaimed, “I am sorely afflicted, what can I do?”

“You can bugger off from here for a start”, replied a more accomplished beggar: “this is my patch!”

The gambler took to the road, where he was set upon and beaten by robbers.

A kindly Samaritan saw the man, stopped, and gave him a helpline number to telephone.

However, the gambler hadn’t paid the phone bill – the line was dead, and shortly thereafter, so was he.

SERENDIPITY

There’s a line you just don’t cross – where any reasonable person turns their back and walks away.

It’s a line commonsense tells you must remain a hard limit – there’s a right side and a wrong side of that line; you cross it at your peril: only the foolish, the mad, the deluded, choose the wrong side.

But I’m none of them – I’m rational, calculating and entirely sane, and I’ve crossed every line there is – deep into the territory beyond.

I am you, as you really are, when you cross that line dividing waking and your dreams.

ZACKMANN

Oh my, I feel like I have been standing in this line for days. After serving a term in the military and shopping on Black Friday twice, some of us are slow learners, I promised myself to never stand in a line more than twenty people long again. Except for that one day I went to an anime convention, I did pretty well with that. Standing in long lines is my own personal hell. I see a guy who likes like Joe Hill’s father so I must have been wrong about this line being hell. He usually ends with purgatory.

TURA

Pound

———

After ten years of arduous travelling through the remotest places on Earth, at last I found the Hidden Master, seated outside a ten foot square hut. I put my questions.

—What is the teaching of the Buddha?

—Ten pounds of flax.

—Er, I mean, what did he tell people?

—Not a single grain of rice.

—Do you know where he is?

—The outhouse behind this hut.

—How can I get to speak to him?

—If you see that idiot on the road, kill him.

I can’t decide if those were koans, or if he was just deaf as a post.

———

Line

———

I remember “PDAs”, Personal Digital Assistants. That just meant a calendar app and an address book. Then recommender systems to tell you films you’d like. Now, Smartglass. It reads your heartbeat, brainwaves, eyegaze, everything. It knows what you want before you do and smooths the path.

It gamifies eating and exercise, so you’ll be fitter and healthier with Smartglass.

In some jobs it will do the job for you, continually whispering in your ear to tell you what to do.

Somewhere a line was crossed. We wanted paradise and all we got was machines to live our lives for us.

NORVAL JOE

Henry sat on the edge of the rain gutter and surveyed the line of pigeons at the top of the roof. He must forget these dull and unimaginative creatures were once his family. Not brothers and sisters–they were cousins or something like that.

“Forget that, now,” Henry told himself. “I’m a hawk and these pigeons are my dinner. But which one?”

Jenny was the fattest and probably the easiest to catch. He couldn’t drop from the sky like the rest of the hawks. Henry would have to sneak up and attack her from behind.

He’d have to wait until dark.

JUSTIN

The creature advanced. Feline form with aquatic features. The most feared, mysterious enemy of the United Empire of Earth, the Vanduul. He cowered from its cold gaze, weakly jabbing the knife towards the alien. It leapt, tearing the knife from his grasp. Its teeth glinted as it spoke.

“You killed my brother, and tore our ship apart and sold it for scrap, as is your right, but you stole this knife from me. That is not your right, it is a death sentence!”

The knife glinted as it flicked out, and a red, quickly growing line appeared across his stomach.

PLANET Z

Theodore was an expert in cell phone bombs.

He liked to watch his targets from the hills as he made the fatal calls.

These days, Central Command preferred drone strikes, but some targets dug deep enough to thwart the best bunker-busters.

Which also made it difficult for Theodore, too.

If the bomb can’t get signal, you can’t set it off.

Central Command tried to text Theodore with changed orders.

“Poison the air intake vents.”

But they called the wrong phone number.

It was for Theodore’s backup bomb. Which he’d mistakenly left on.

The target watched the explosion on the hill.

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
• Munsi
• Tom
• Aubrey
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Lizzie
• Marv
• Norval Joe
• Planet Z

JEFFREY

The Diet
by Jeffrey Fischer

My wife observed that I had gained a few pounds – if by “few” one meant around 20 – so I resolved to do something about it. I ate smaller portions, I exercised more, and I filled up on leafy vegetables. Nothing worked.

As I poured myself a stiff drink, my wife made an arch comment about the number of calories in alcohol. “No wonder you’re not losing weight.”

“Honey,” I replied, “a man has his limits. I’m hungry after meals, I keep eating rabbit food, and if this bicycle weren’t stationary I’d have pedaled to Alaska. Of *course* I need to drink more.”

Foreign Travel
by Jeffrey Fischer

Sam stepped up to the currency exchange counter. “Hello, I’m traveling to England so I need some Euros.”

The lady blinked. “If you’re going to the UK, you need pounds sterling, not Euros.”

“The UK? No, just England.”

“England is part of the United Kingdom. And they have their own currency, not the Euro.”

“Having two names is very confusing. They should pick one. And their own currency? Since when?”

“The UK never adopted the Euro. They’ve used the pound for hundreds of years.”

“The pound? But that’s a unit of weight, not money.”

“Over there it’s money.”

“Well, what do they use to weigh things?”

“I believe they’re on the metric system, so they use kilograms, not pounds.”

“This is too confusing. I’ll go to Canada instead. Gimme some Canadian Euros.”

“You mean dollars.”

“No, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that dollars are American.”

“Fine, sir. How many Canadian Euros would you like?”

“Just give me a hundred kilograms’ worth.”

CHARLIE

He would pound a couple of shots and a few beers, then he’d ask for a mixed drink and start making his rounds throughout the bar. Most of the time he would bring in a couple of cans of laughy string from the trunk of his Volvo and use it to “get the party started.” Without any circumspection or discretion at all, he’d cover one end of the dance floor to the other with yards of pink, plastic goo…a lot finding its way into people’s hair and their drinks. Dennis was an insufferable asshole, but he was our church pastor.

2nd

My friend dropped two-hundred pounds. She had gastric band surgery. After putting a thousand-dollar deposit down, she pays $150 month until the fifteen thousand fee is paid off. She was a compulsive eater, just as she is a compulsive talker. Her mouth is always moving, and if she isn’t talking, she’s stuffing herself with chips, cake, cookies and “little” bits of other fat-inducing goodies. After her weight loss, she lightened her hair and let it grow. She still weighs three hundred pounds, but she can walk now without help. Her gallbladder had to be removed and she has chronic indigestion.

3rd

My other mate dropped two-hundred pounds at the dog track each month. He had a severe gambling addiction, including purchase of lots of lottery tickets during the week, and spending a fortune on line with sports betting. His children went without, and his wife took two buses across town to work at a fast food place in Twiddlebury. Other plonkers dropped pounds on bets on the weather and what the sex would be of the next illegitimate child born at the nunnery. No one suffered more than his youngest girl, who had to wear the castoffs of her older brother.

RICHARD

#1 – Lycra

For my new years’ resolution, I decided to get fit – not necessarily going the whole hog and getting a gym body, but just lose a few pounds and tone up.

It’s not a pretty sight though – a sweaty, overweight, middle-aged bloke, red-faced and panting, clad head to toe in skin-tight lycra.

The gear alone has cost me a small fortune, but there’s a method to my madness.

You see, I reckon if you’re going to pound the streets, you have to make the effort to look the part… Even if looking the part makes you look an idiot.

#2 – One Pound

I know a pound of lead weighs no more than a pound of feathers, but trust me, psychologically lead is always going to seem heavier.

How do I know? Twenty years loading cargo, that’s how. I’ll take feathers over lead any day!

If it looks heavy, it will feel heavy – no amount of reasoning will make any difference.

Give me feathers, foam, polystyrene or bubble wrap any time and it won’t feel like work; lead or iron, and you’ve an unhappy man on your hands.

Not that management care – all they’re interested in is their pound of flesh.

#3 – Ogre and ogre again

Boggins could scarcely believe his luck – for once everything was going his way, and without any of that unnecessary mucking about slaying dragons!

Gazing down at the gold, he became aware of a dark shadow suddenly looming over his shoulder. A shadow that was disconcertingly ogre shaped and a rather angry ogre, at that.

“I’m going to pound you so flat, you’ll be a hobbit pancake “, the ogre snarled.

Once again, Boggin’s trusty staff swung into action and, once again, the ogre fell to the floor with a thud.

Taking no chances, Boggins resorted to double granny knots!

#4 – The gospel according to Norman: the parable of the annoying neighbour

It came to pass a man was aroused from his rest by a hammering upon his door.

“Why, neighbour do you pound upon my doorpost at this late hour summoning me from my bed?”

“Sir!”, the neighbour replied, “My young wife has wandered from her chamber and is lost! Will you help search for her?”

“Indeed, I will not – for a husband who loses his wife has no business asking another for assistance.”

The man closed his door, thereupon which the neighbour continued to pound.

Which bothered the man not, since he was far too busy pounding his neighbour’s wife!

CHARLIE

Pound Cake

By Christopher Munroe

Pound cake is delicious cake, made with flour, butter, eggs and sugar in a 1:1:1:1 ratio, baked in either a loaf pan or Bundt mold, then either dusted with powdered sugar, glazed or on rare occasion served with a coat of icing.

Recipes vary by region, but that’s the basics no matter where you go and, ordering a slice of pound cake, that’s approximately what you should expect.

“Pound Cake” is also a kiss off you can say to someone in the heat of anger, but it’s a confusing one that I wouldn’t recommend.

But that’s neither here nor there…

AUBREY

“You’ve got your pound of flesh. Let her go.” He growled.

“Come, come James, did you really think it would be so easy? I have everything I want now. You, the girl and the bomb.” The villainess retorted, as she slithered toward him.

She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. He waited for her to continue, but instead she slumped to the ground in front of him, revealing the so-called “girl” behind her.

“She talks too much. Gave me a good chance to get out of my restraints.” She held up a large wrench. “And to get this handy thing.”

SERENDIPITY

I like to think I’m contributing something to society – keeping the streets clean and safe, and giving those poor strays a little care and kindness.

Of course, working at the pound isn’t glamorous – it’s a hard, dirty, smelly job; and being voluntary, there’s no wage at the end of the day.

That’s not to say there aren’t perks – those special moments when we can rehome a stray with a loving family.

As for those who don’t find a home… They go into the mincer – I get a good price for the meat from McDonald’s.

I’m lovin’ it!

ZACKMANN

Thump. Thump. So my kid who is sensitive to noise can’t sleep. Neither can I. Thump. Thump. He tells me using the noise reducing headphones doesn’t stop the house from shaking and being on the opposite side of the house from the thumping doesn’t help any. This is the last time I buy a house that isn’t at least ten feet away from the next house. It’s like living in the goddamn Tell-Tale Heart every time the neighbor who shares a wall turns on his bass heavy stereo. I’m hearing the Tell-Tale Heart but I haven’t even killed anyone, yet.

LIZZIE

Andrew only wanted to belong to the group of cool guys.
“According to the book, to be accepted you must eat a pound of salt,” they said.
So, he agreed.
The result wasn’t good.
His family, friends, and doctors asked him why, but he never gave the guys up.
When he was about to die, he recalled having read that in China nobility used to commit suicide by eating salt.
His intention had definitely not been to commit suicide, quite the opposite.
The guys denied everything, even the existence of the book.
Andrew’s last thought was “Ugly people, happy monsters.”

MARV

London Bobby Nigel Bakersfield was patrolling his beat when he spied several boys harassing a woman.

Rushing to the woman, Nigel yelled “What’s going on here?”

With that, the boys scattered away,

“Are you alright madam?” Nigel inquired.

“Not bloody likely, I’d say” She replied, “those buggers just grabbed 2 pounds of Earl Grey tea I just bought for £6.15.”

Nigel handed the woman a crisp £10.00 note, grinned and said,

“I’ll make sure they pay well for it, I’ll be pounding some sense in to those young bloke’s heads”, slapping his baton in the palm of his left hand.

Background music was The Space Runaway by Alexye Nov

NORVAL JOE

Billy needed one more ten pound sack of steer manure and his project would be complete. Mixing the stuff at a one to one ratio with plaster of Paris he created a modeling material that was easy to shape, had a long working time and was light enough when fully dry that it wouldn’t be too hard to move the finished project.

Working the modeling material around a wire frame he finished the head of a life sized model of Donald Trump. He couldn’t wait to display his statue outside the hall where the presidential candidate was scheduled to speak.

PLANET Z

Her place is a mess, in the middle of a shitty neighborhood.

She’s a lousy cook, and the pound cake came out of the freezer.

But, man, could she fuck like lightning.

All guys had to do was get past that first dinner, spend a few minutes in the bathroom quietly throwing up, swish some mouthwash around, and they were in for the ride of their life.

Sadly, for them, and her, none did.

So, she got a few cats, fed them whatever canned stuff was on sale, bought an expensive vibrator from Amazon, and ordered out a lot.