The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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:

• John Musico
• Munsi
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Marsha
• Lizzie
• Jerry
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Charlie
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

JOHN MUSICO

The Fate of Intellect’s “Evolution”

They were from many light years away. Their brains had “evolved” to a level of logic where emotion was seemingly no longer useful and became atrophied, unavailable, in their ancient civilization.
Supreme beings, seeking to fill an empty void, though vicariously, came to Earth….
They watched intently, eagerly absorbed by what was once deemed a purposeless endeavor; emotion, and felt joy, once again. The visitors reciprocated their gratitude by using their godlike powers to aid mankind. They spoke to man, unseen, in a unified voice, as if from the sky, and were viewed as one being. Mankind worshiped their Lord.

MUNSI

Hospitality

By Christopher Munroe

I try to be a good host.

Whether I’m having people over for a night of b-movies and beer or an alien parasite has burrowed its way into my brain in order to control me like a puppet, I do whatever I can to make my guests comfortable. That’s just hospitality.

Some find this old-fashioned, but that’s how I was raised, it comes as naturally to me as breathing used to previous to finding that crashed alien ship out in the woods.

So, fellow normal human, may I offer you liquid? A beer-drink? Something to get you off your guard?

JEFFREY

Household Guest
by Jeffrey Fischer

The pain is with you all the time, day and night. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, tolerable if never fully out of your mind. Sometimes it’s stabbing agony, leaving you gasping for breath. Most of the time it comes as waves of torment, crashing against your mind’s shores, eroding your will to live.

My friend, your expression of sympathy suggests that you believe I am speaking of myself in the second person. On the contrary, I use “you” in its usual meaning. Ah, I now see understanding dawning. Don’t try to move; when the paralytic wears off, you’ll find yourself securely bound.

And remember: when I say “This won’t hurt a bit,”… I’m lying.

Part of the Hospitality Industry
by Jeffrey Fischer

Why, thank you, sir, for opening the door for me. You’re too kind. These little kindnesses are ignored far too often. Look, my bed is all made up, and I have towels as well. The hospitality of my host is unparalleled. I’m told there are exercise facilities on the premises as well. It’s the little things that make a stay more pleasant.

Why do I keep prattling on like this? Sir, you have your little fictions and I have mine. You insist on calling me a “guest of the state,” so I insist on believing that I’m being treated as one. May I see tonight’s dinner menu?

RICHARD

The Country Retreat

We were an eclectic group gathered together, as we waited to be called for dinner.

I glanced around at the guests – the major, all handlebar whiskers and ramrod straight posture; the haughty socialite, frostily eyeing her companions; the young married couple, utterly besotted, and the grumpy old dowager, frowning at having to wait for lunch.

All strangers: All anxious to be seated at the table.

At last, the final guest was announced, and the room fell strangely silent.

“Mr Hercule Poirot!”

Strangers maybe, but before the night was out we would become intimately familiar.

And one of us, would die!

MARSHA

NO TEXT

LIZZIE

John’s only grandniece had six children. At family gatherings, John was always somewhere else with his old buddies, a tropical island, a cruise, a religious peregrination. He wasn’t religious, but any excuse worked. This time, his coward friends decided to visit their families. So, when a choir of kids asked John why he looked all wrinkled, he showed them his gold teeth. “See this? You won’t get any. You’re out of the will.” Little did the family know that he had already spent all his money and that he had no intention of parting from his teeth, even after dying.

JERRY

Guest
————————–
They came early.

Now Roger does not mind when folk show up early for one of his dinner parties. Roger uses the term ‘bit’ to mean half-an-hour or so early because half-an-hour means that all the food is prepared, the table is set, and the house is clean. Most importantly the bathroom is sparkling clean and, if the need arises, his guest can eat off its floor. When the door bell rang Roger was in the shower and was not pleased that his guest were three hours early.

At least that is what he told the police when they arrived.
————————

TOM

Well Met on the Great Plain

Lindow Laxor was their guest, which meant the greater part of hospitality was due to him despite his habit of non-reciprocal return. He arrived with the first crush and bid us farewell with the draining of the last cask. The children found his talk of the Dunelands awe inspiriting. Grandma just as soon shoot him in the eye. So it was odd that as harvest approached no sign of Laxor. When the last cups of summer were raised we toasted his absence left a thimble aside in his honor. My family has been collecting Laxor’s Thimble for 600 years.

SERENDIPITY

I am the unseen guest at every dining table, the unwelcome visitor who calls in the night. I am the one of whom you do not speak, the one who lurks in hospital wards and loiters in dark alleyways.

I am the shadow on your lung, the faulty brake pipe, the falling branch.

I am the thin ice, the ruptured artery and the prank gone horribly wrong.

I am the fatal mistake, the sudden bend, the unexpected rip tide; I am bullet, bomb and burns, drugs, disease and disaster.

I am…

Death.

And I invite you…

To be my guest!

ZACKMANN

Some people hate having their in-laws visit. I don’t mind but I do hate all the extra cleanup and that we really have to clean up for the relatives who come from overseas. I can’t just shove stuff into the closet all Fibber McGee like when the pastor comes by since when they come, they stay for weeks. I actually miss having my father-in-law visit because as long as I made sure there were at least two beers in the refrigerator in the morning before I went to bed things would magically be fixed around the house in my sleep.

CHARLIE

Guests and fish start to smell after three days, so Babe made excuses so they would leave in the early morning of the fourth day of their yearly visit to the Burroughs home. Babe and her pal, Mary, had an odor about them anyway, and it grew stronger in time. Both of them were on a strange diet which consisted, largely, of grains and assorted roughage. When they sat on the patio or deck, the Burroughs always sat upwind of their guests, not letting on or grimacing every five minutes or so when they caught emanations of the silent winds.

Over the years, I’ve made every excuse I could muster to avoid having guests visit my home. The last time a visitor from two states away called while in town to ask directions to my house, I pretended I picked up the call on a cell phone in far-away Canada, saying I wouldn’t be home until the following Thursday, but pleased they made it to my special, little village. Next time, I’m going to say the house is being fumigated, and has a large tent over it, so we can gather at the local hotel if they insist on meeting.

NORVAL JOE

“Mr. Picklehacker. This is your last chance to share some information,” Aphasia said. “Unless you want to become a guest of our airport security cell.”
“No big deal,” Bufford said. “You already know it weighs more than it should. It’s dark matter.”
The agent narrowed her eyes at him. “It doesn’t look very dark.”
“It’s an expression,” Bufford said with a shrug. “Is it illegal to have or transport an unknown element?”
“It depends, Picklehacker. What do you plan to do with it?”
“I don’t know,” Bufford said and sat back with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll make invisible paper weights.”

TURA

Guest
———
The horizon’s just crossing past the sun when they show. Two people. Look like men, but that don’t mean much.

“We have come far, and are weary,” says one. Weary? They’re not even breaking a sweat. Must be packing some mighty fine implants to be just walking across the badlands. No stuff with them, not even guns.

“This shack ain’t no hotel,” I say. “But plenty of rocks to lay on. Be my guest.”

Well, there’s no fire from heaven coming down. Guess I passed God’s secret customer test. I didn’t let on, but the wings really give them away.

PLANET Z

I call it the spare bedroom.
She calls it the guest room.
The blueprints call it the basement.
The girl we kidnapped and locked up down there calls it a prison.
The cops called it a dungeon.
The media called it a slaughterhouse.
The prosecutor called it the scene of the crime.
I suppose we should call the girl the victim.
And me and her the accused.
Oh, and the cops, well, they’re still the cops.
But the media are jackals.
And the prosecutor is their whore.
Showing off for the cameras, as he runs for mayor.
God damned semantics!

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:

• John Musico
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Jerry
• Serendipity
• Tura Brezoianu
• Tom
• Norval Joe
• Munsi
• Jennifer
• Zackmann
• Planet Z

JOHN MUSICO

John
Hopeless

Dr. Analitico’s patient; Mildred, worried she was depressed. He asked; “If you won the lottery, what would you think, what would you feel?”
Mildred’s eyes took on a far away gaze; “Oh that would be wonderful; I’d get out of debt, help my kids pay for school as I always wanted to,
get a maid…so many things”. The psychiatrist announced confidently; “You are NOT depressed. The difference between depression and simply being bummed out is anhedonia: wanting is absent in true depression”. Mildred sighed her relief audibly and calmly told Dr Analitico she’s bummed she can’t pay for the visit.

JEFFREY

The Curve
by Jeffrey Fischer

Adam licked the back of his pencil. He needed an 85 on this test to pass his calculus course. Too many nights farting around instead of studying, compounding his innate lack of understanding of the subject, had gotten him to this point.

He flipped the exam to page 1. “Integrate 6 x^5 – 18 x^2 + 7 dx,” read the first question. He flipped the page back again. This was hopeless. He stood and walked from the exam room.

When Adam failed the course, his professor pointed out that an 85 still wouldn’t have helped. “Son, you needed around a 130 out of 100 to pass the course. You’re no good at calculus, but your basic math skills aren’t all that great, either.”

Hopeless Romantic
by Jeffrey Fischer

A hopeless romantic, Dalton always imagined he would find his soul mate if he just looked long enough. Unfortunately, Dalton was short, plump, and balding prematurely, with thick spectacles, and his idea of a suitable match was a willowy blonde with a million-watt smile and endless legs.

Dalton’s latest mission involved a one-named model with a half-dozen degrees to her name. When he made his intentions clear, so did she. Dalton slunk away, as he had so many times before.

A hopeless romantic indeed: he was certainly romantic, and he was most certainly hopeless.

RICHARD

#1 – Hero

It’s one of the great movie standbys: The hero, having succeeded against impossible odds, faces the final test of character and heroism – a hopeless situation.

Inevitably, somebody is going to die, and – equally inevitably – it’s going to be the hero. Sacrificing his own life for the greater good, saving the planet and the day.

I have to be honest, no matter how desperate the circumstances, you’ll never find me volunteering to be that hero. I’ll be the one keeping my head down, staying in the background and demonstrating no survival skills whatsoever.

Heroes die.

But I’ll survive!

#2 – Moment of truth

It was a hopeless situation – how had things come to this?

All eyes of the crowd were focussed on him, he could feel their gaze burning in to him, as a bead of sweat trickled slowly down the back of his neck.

So much hinged on his answer, and he had no idea whether this would prove to be the worst decision he would ever make.

The pressure was overwhelming.

The man stood before him, repeated the question, in a stern, imperious tone.

He responded, eyes clenched tightly shut.

“I do”

“Then I now pronounce you, husband and wife!”

LIZZIE

Hopeless Conversation

“Mary and Patrick named their daughter Joan. Joan married Anthony and had a baby girl they named Andrea. Andrea partnered Rosie and adopted baby Mary. Mary married Patrick; they had a daughter they named Joan. Joan got married to Anthony and had a baby girl…”
“Wait a second. There’s something wrong with this. Genealogy doesn’t go in circles. If you tell me their baby was called Andrea…”
“No. She was called Hopeless.”
“What a cruel name to give to a child!”
“Not at all. They were… hoping for… less… of a circular family history. Get it?”
“Jeez. What a dumbass.”

JERRY

A Hopeless situation
———————————
I play a lot of tennis: USTA matches several evenings each week, four-hour drill on Friday, and my Saturday Morning Tennis Group of 30 friends. I have several on-line MMOs that I do in the evening with friends that can’t survive any battle without me. My wife has stuff for me to do and then there is my writing. My blog ‘Lucky and Good’ where I write about economics and risk-taking, and of course the 100 Word Challenge. This is really a hopeless situation and sometimes I have to drop something. Sorry Laurence, you lost the coin toss last week.

FYI- I reminded Jerry that I don’t like to be mentioned in the stories, nor do I like meta-stories about trying to write for the podcast.

SERENDIPITY

“Welcome to the Anxiety Helpline – you will now be presented with a number of options, please select a reason for your call”

“If human contact makes you anxious, please hold to speak to an operator”

“If dealing with machines makes you anxious, please press one”

“You have chosen option one. Are you sure that’s the right choice? Press the appropriate key to respond”

“You have selected an incorrect option”

“Please hold”

“You a currently in a queue. Please hold.”

“Please hold”

“I’m sorry. We cannot take your call at the moment – thank you for calling the Anxiety Helpline”

TURA

A Hopeless Situation
——————
After weakening me with red kryptonite, my enemies had pulverised my body with a nuclear explosion, consumed the residue with molecular acid from a hive of xenomorphs, and divided the fuming remains among several nuclear reactors to be dispersed into deep interstellar space.

But Superman laughs at such material inconveniences! With subtle psionic tendrils I began slowly collecting material for a new body, atom by atom, hidden in a place I shall never disclose, lest my enemies in the past discover my words with machines that see the future.

For Superman, there is no such thing as a hopeless situation!

TOM

What Price Your Soul

Feel overwhelmed? Do you wonder it you can go on again day? Well we at Hopeless Situations understand. We feel your pain. Know that the answer does lie in wealth or fame or power. If it did you would have had lawyers, guns and money to get you out of this. No dear friends you are up to your eyeballs in fire ants covered in honey buried in the Texas panhandle. With one simple call to Hopeless Situations the unsurmountable is dissipated. The unresolvable becomes resolute. Our operators are waiting, should you be? Hopeless Situations a J. Faust International Company.

NORVAL JOE

“Bufford,” the agent said pulling her chair close to him. The scent of her perfume filled his head and he felt his reserve begin to crack. “This doesn’t have to be a hopeless situation. Answer a few of our questions so we can know you’ll be straight with us.”
“Play straight with me, and I’ll play straight with you,” Bufford said, leaning away from her. “You haven’t told me who you are, or who you represent.”
“Okay,” she said, sitting up straight. “My name is Aphasia and I work with the Bureau of National Despair. Now. What’s in the box?”

MUNSI

Hopelessness

By Christopher Munroe

When you’re feeling down and out, as though the world were hopeless, remember:

The world was here before you were born, and will remain long after your death. It survived ice ages, comets, mass-extinction-events, global warming and cooling, and through each crisis Earth abides, through each new crisis presented Earth will abide.

Earth will survive any trouble we will throw at it, of this I have no doubt, and it will barely notice your own private problems.

We simply won’t necessarily necessarily survive with it.

The world, my friend, is full of hope.

It is merely WE who are hopeless…

JENNIFER

Jodie arrived just after recess with her mother and the principal in tow. Standing at the doorway, the principal waved our teacher over. They huddled for a moment before he turned back to the class.

“Boys and girls, today will be Jodie’s last day. Why don’t you tell us a little bit about where you’re going and why?”

“Well, my mother and I are moving to the city. My parents had a big fight last night and now they’re getting a divorce.”

I sat, terrified, knowing that my mother was leaving my father next week for the exact same reason.

ZACKMANN

I can explain an equipment malfunction fire but I have to explain a big hole in the wall next to a door. Which will be easier than explaining the trebuchet. I begged my boss not to do what he did but he wanted to save money on heating and cooling as do I but I insisted the last thing you want to do is put a “Keep Door Closed At All Times” sign up in a room full of engineers because a door that may not be opened is a wall. I think I should propose a revolving door policy.

PLANET Z

There she was, passed out on the bed.
Drank too much. Or maybe it was the pills.
I poked her foot.
No response.
I tickled the sole of her foot.
Still no response.
She was breathing.
I turned her on to her side so if she threw up, she wouldn’t choke on her vomit.
I stayed up all night reading.
Well, most of the night.
I must have fallen asleep.
The campus police woke me up.
Someone had attacked her before I found her.
And thought I did it.
He wore a condom. No DNA.
No good deed, I suppose.