Somebody tried to get me to read Game Of Thrones, but I’m not all that interested in games. Or thrones.
So games with thrones? Doubly-uninteresting.
Do they play Musical Thrones, where the nobles circle the thrones and all try to sit down when the minstrels stop playing? Last person sitting is the new king?
Or do they play checkers with them?
I don’t think they do. Those thrones on the posters look awfully heavy. And some of them have really sharp edges.
Although the nobles could have their servants pick them up and move them around the room.
How boring.
History Of Art
The East end of Main Street starts with a few yellow hand prints in the middle of the road.
The hand prints give way to hunting scenes, and then simple geometric designs.
As you travel West, the lines in the road progress through the history of painting… Babylonian… Persian… Greek… Roman… at Fulton Street, you get some Byzantine frescoes and mosaics.
A bit of the Dutch Masters and French Impressionists as you pass the Library, then Dadaist and Surrealist before the splattered mess reminiscent of Jackson Pollock.
(That’s not intentional. That’s where the road painter got hit by a bus.)
Bad Baseball
Eight years ago, the Houston Astros were swept by the Chicago White Sox in the World Series.
The once-mighty teams are currently two of the worst teams in baseball, and I am watching them stink up the field with their cheap rookie rosters, with the occasional discount washed-up veteran.
Even the on-air announcers are worse. They’re so bored with the game, they’re watching other games and doing play-by-play on them.
They’re doing a great job with that other game, too.
Maybe they’re doing it to get out of this market and call real games.
I don’t blame them one bit.
Weekly Challenge #490 – Adventure
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:
JEFFREY
Camp Counselor
by Jeffrey Fischer
Many teens complained about the camp counselor job, but Randy thought it was great. Sure, six-year-olds exhibited separation anxiety, fussed at everything, and were constantly in a vicious circle of drinking juice and peeing. Randy had a secret weapon, however.
Around ten a.m. he would ask his charges, “Who wants to have an adventure?” Amid squeals of delight, he would set half the group to hide near the barn and the other half to hide around the boatyard. (No one ever thought it was odd that everyone hid and no one sought.) Shortly before parents arrived to pick up their precious cargo, Randy would find and wake each of the kids. It never failed to give him a full day to himself.
The Job
by Jeffrey Fischer
The former Ranger scared the crap out of us his first day on the job when he rappelled up the building and swung into the office, spraying glass everywhere. “Hi, I’m Ted.”
The next week, Ted caught Gladys stealing food from the refrigerator. He had her spread-eagled on her stomach and secured her arms with plastic ties until the department supervisor arrived.
When I next saw Ted, he was securing his commando knife in its sheath before his raid on the IT department. I took Ted aside. “Look, man, every employer has its own culture. You’ve got to try to fit in.”
Ted looked perplexed. “What are you saying?”
“Around here, we take the elevator, we don’t hog-tie fat grandmothers, and we don’t slit the throats of IT guys just to get a printer. This isn’t the Army. It’s not an adventure, it’s just a job.”
TURA
Adventure
———
“Mother isn’t coming, is she?” said my son suddenly.
I’d been putting this off, but it couldn’t be avoided any more.
“No. No, she isn’t,” I said at last. “There are some bad men after me. They found your mother…”
He would cry later, but not yet.
“So this is an adventure,” he said. “But…” I waited for him to complete the thought. “Not a story adventure. We don’t know how it turns out.”
“Yes. We just have to make it turn out as best we can.”
We slipped out to the car, and drove off into the silent night.
———
CHARLIE
An adventure gone undone, or sloppily executed is an adventure gone to waste. My adventures are planned with care and deliberation. I consult with experts to plan the simplest adventure. A trip to the other end of the county calls for a check of the running gear on my vehicle, a packed lunch, and water and snacks for the pooch. It also calls for quick message to my personal assistant to remind her to look in on the dogs, check for open windows and doors, and to trigger interior lighting after sundown, including the bank of halogens on the garage.
Second
The reason for my performance-related panic is due to the fact that I suffer from severe, late onset, anxiety disorder, which makes simple adventures or interactions like strolling down the street a disproportionately tensile experience. One of the signifiers of social anxiety is a heightened sense of alertness. The sound of skateboard wheels whirring around the street corner creates a sliver of unease. A bike bell ringing behind me causes me to grit my teeth and raise my iron-tipped cane in order to ready myself for a strike across the rider’s brow, or a quick jab at the bikes spokes.
Third
Her mother named her Adventure. Adventura, formally, but shortened when she started middle school. She was a tomboy. Wearing low-top sneakers, a scraggly ponytail, and a baggy T-shirt—one of the many outfits in her tomboy oeuvre. She avoided tattoos and any piercings because of her ancestry, and her grandmother, who thought they were disfiguring, disgusting, dumb and dull. Adventure didn’t need anything to decorate her body but her shiny, spellbinding eyes, and her mysterious smile. To say the least, she was a tall, thin, knockout. All the boys loved her. The girls loved her, and the gods loved her.
RICHARD
#1 – Out of the Frying Pan
Laggins was not a happy hobbit!
His ruse to replace the Chalice of Eternal Power with his favourite mug had completely failed to fool the wizard, or any other members of their little group.
“I told you I wasn’t cut out for adventure!” He protested; “You tricked me into joining your stupid quest and now you’re complaining because I’m not up to the job! Well… If you’re that interested in dragons and gold, you can damn well go yourself!”
“Fair enough”, said the wizard, “We’ll go – you guard the camp alone… watch out for the goblins and trolls though!”
#2 – Antihero
Why is it that in the movies being in the wrong place at the wrong time always leads to a great adventure?
In my experience, it tends to lead to a whole load of grief, plenty of shouting, and – all too frequently – real physical pain.
I’m just not made from the ‘Right Stuff’ – I’m not at all heroic, tend to avoid trouble at all costs, and if I do happen to find myself in the wrong place at the wrong time, I’ll do whatever it takes to get the hell out of there as fast as possible.
#3 – Infomercial
Life is full of disappointments.
As a child, I felt badly let down by the local ‘Adventure Playground’ – there were no bloodthirsty sharks, pirates, magical mazes or lost cities to explore – just a couple of rope swings, some monkey bars and a crappy slide.
To my young mind, it was overrated hype – a triumph of advertising over reality.
Today, I realise I was being taught a valuable life lesson. Few things measure up to the expectation and the world is full of con artists out to sell you a lie.
The trouble is, we still believe it.
TOM
Max is your Man
The advertisement in the London Times read as follows: ADVENTURE in 20 point Garamond. No follow up address, nor an establishing phone to ring up. Max checked the ad section over the next three weeks and found the same single word reaching out and grabbing his attention. On a whim Max head down to the Times Advertisement Department. A rather crumbed clerk at the desk met his eye. Max replied: ADVENTURE. The Clerk drew a revolver and point it at his head. “Are you quite sure of that young master?” said the clerk. Totally unflustered Max said, “Quite So.”
LIZZIE
The tracking adventure ended abruptly when Lana tripped and fell off a cliff. Instead of the expected anguished agitation, her tracking companions looked down in silence.
“She was never good at this.”
The others shook their heads.
“Should we try to fetch her?”
The others shook their heads.
“Look for help?”
The others shook their heads. And they stood there for a while.
A cell-phone rang.
“It’s Lana’s. Should I answer?”
The others shook their heads. And they continued their tracking adventure.
“Good thing we paused a bit up there. I was getting out of breath.”
The others nodded enthusiastically.
SERENDIPITY
Love’s great adventure turned out to be something of a disappointment – a bit of a misadventure, if you ask me.
Over the last twenty years, I’m sure we’d both considered divorce; maybe even quietly despatching each other with a dose of rat poison, when things became a little heated.
But you don’t… you knuckle down, accept that this is how things are, and count your blessings.
Twenty years – even twenty sad, uninspiring years – merit some sort of celebration.
So, here we are: food, wine, candles, flowers, soppy cards and tired smiles.
(Did I mention the rat poison?)
MUNSI
Adventure!
By Chris Munroe
Life’s an adventure.
Insomuch as you’re stranded on a rock hurtling through space faster than you can possibly comprehend around an atomic furnace that’s constantly exploding.
Life, however, is NOT an adventure insomuch as you, probably, spend much of it doing the same things over and over, both at work and in your “free” time, out of habit rather than genuine desire to partake in said activities, whatever they might be in your particular case.
So, yeah, mixed bag.
If the first thing’s good enough for you, hooray! If not, responsibility to create additional adventure is yours, and yours alone…
NORVAL JOE
My daughter didn’t want to do anything this summer besides talk to her friends on skype and play minecraft.
Ignoring her heated protests, I signed her up for the Isosceles Logic Adventure Camp.
Had I known they would spend eight hours a day for five days doing nothing more than playing sudoku, I probably wouldn’t have signed her up.
It turned out okay and all the kids really got into this Japanese puzzle that actually was developed in America.
They had an intense tournament on the last day of camp and my daughter ended up a second degree black belt.
DANNY
I’ve been listening to the videos of “The Cars” on YouTube allot lately, and I’ve come to two conclusions. One, If I were as good looking as Benjamin Orr, Branka Petrovic would be attracted to me, and two, if Benjamin Orr never saw a doctor, he would have never died of Pancreatic Cancer in 2000. I get it, you feel severe pains in your stomach, time to see a doctor. But where is the sense of adventure? What the hell, I’m going to die anyway. I remain convinced, if I to refuse to see a doctor, I’ll live longer than expected.
PLANET Z
Long ago, I owned an Atari game console.
The graphics were basic and crude. Just colored blocks, really.
One of my favorite games was Adventure.
You were a simple block that sought a rudimentary chalice.
Navigating the maze, you had to avoid dragons.
I remember my heart racing as I dodged their attacks.
The sword was just a simple crude arrow, but it sure killed those dragons.
These days, with the complicated controls and intense 3D 4K graphics, you’d think I’d be lost in these worlds.
It’s too overwhelming for me.
I slide in the Adventure cartridge, and power on.
Summer Heat
In the winter, you need a bed warmer to warm your bed against the deep chill.
This can be an electric blanket, or an old-fashioned pile of sled dogs, or even a young woman from the village.
But how do you do chill a bed for those hot summer nights?
Some people strip down to the sheets, crank up the air conditioning, and drink plenty of ice water before going to sleep.
Or, if the young lass from the village is a cold-skinned vampire, well, that will work too. It’s like hugging an iceberg.
Mind the fangs and claws, though.
Prawns
For her two hundredth birthday, Syrine threw herself a mermaid party.
The surgical alteration tanks grafted on the fish tails and gills with precision, nanobots coursing through their bloodstreams.
For hours, she and her friends swam in the orbital colony’s water basin, circling and playing.
They returned to her home and had themselves changed back in time for the dinner celebration.
Mermaids. Centaurs. Winged angels.
Although the angel configurations couldn’t actually fly, even with low gravity zone assistance.
Swimming was flying through water, wasn’t it?
She flexed a prawn’s tail in her fingers, twisted it, and took a bite.
Delicious.
Sitcom Dreams
For a while, it seemed like every stand-up comedian got their own sitcom.
Then, they all got talk shows, and celebrities were so worn out running from show to show, they had no time or energy to do all the stuff that made them celebrities in the first place.
The guests dried up, the audiences dried up, and finally the advertisers dried up.
The comedians lost their talk shows and tried to get sitcoms, but the sitcoms were all replaced with reality shows.
So, they started their own comedy clubs, and the young comedians flowed in… with their sitcom dreams.
The Language of Ice Cream
My car got a flat tire right outside of an ice cream shop.
Is this the universe’s way of telling me that I should have ice cream?
You know, Galileo said that the language in which God made the universe is mathematics.
What if he was wrong? Maybe the universe was written in the language of ice cream?
If so, ISO-639 should include a language code for ice cream: ic.
And you could tack on dialect codes for different flavors, such as ic-rr for Rocky Road.
A rocky road that flattens your tire in front of an ice cream store.
Scandal
Scandal! Scandal!
The mayor denied the allegations, while the line of accusers got longer and longer and longer.
“Resign!” shouted the city.
“Charge me!” shouted back the mayor.
But they never did charge him.
Instead of going to the police to file charges against the mayor, more and more people went to the media, filling the airwaves and newspapers and websites with even more allegations.
Eventually the list of accusers included everyone in the city… except for the mayor.
The mayor, disgusted with the city, resigned.
People lined up early to make allegations against the next mayor.
But nobody ran.
Sick
I hate being sick.
If I’m going to take time off of work, I’ll go to the museums or to the Galleria or to a baseball game or somewhere ANYWHERE instead of sitting at home.
Oh, sure, I like a nice long hot bath, but there’s only so long you can soak.
Books? My eyes get tired quickly when I am sick.
Podcasts and music are just annoying when I am sick. And television is worse.
So, I try to write. But it all turns out about being sick like this worthless piece of crap.
I’ll just take another nap.