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:

• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Jerry
• Munsi
• Lizzie
• Serendipity
• Zackmann
• Tom
• Anima
• Norval Joe
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

What’s the next Weekly Challenge? Come to the website and subscribe to the feed to find out!

JEFFREY

Say Cheese
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Smile!” Click. “Say cheese!” Click. And two more for good measure. “That’s great, Tommy. Now run along and send in the next person waiting.” Alone for a moment, Scott let his artificial smile fade. When he decided to become a photographer, no one warned him about school pictures. Kids making crazy faces, kids wearing crazy outfits, and kids giving him grief the entire day, and it was off to the next school in the morning. Then the parents, once they saw their little darlings, would call and complain. Lady, he wanted to tell them, if you want better results, raise a better brand of monster next time.

The door opened. “You’re Flora?” Scott plastered the phony smile back on his face. “Smile for the camera, Flora. Say cheese.”

The Brie and Wine Circuit
by Jeffrey Fischer

Brad clutched his glass of wine like a talisman and nibbled a piece of brie. A large woman wearing a ghastly hat walked to him, patted his arm, and told him how much she liked his novel. He swallowed the cheese hastily and thanked her. Rather than moving on, the lady launched into a lengthy tale about her problems receiving books from Amazon. Where was his publisher’s rep to get him out of this?

Brad loved to write, but he was horrified at the publicity part of the job. If he didn’t need to eat, he wouldn’t be out here on the brie and wine circuit, sipping fortified grape juice and pretending to like his readers, who pretended to have actually bought his book. It was times like these that Brad envied Thomas Pynchon.

RICHARD

#1 – Say Cheese

Say ‘cheese’!

That’s the phrase which has resulted in so many ruined photographs of my childhood – there I am, gormless, pained look upon my scrunched up, toothy face – awful pictures, best consigned to the bin. Which is precisely where most of them ended up.

Only in later years, when I took up photography as a hobby, did I find out that ‘cheese’ is the worst possible word for decent facial expressions. Far better off saying ‘money’, ‘mummy’, or my favourite: the one I employ whenever subjected to yet another entreaty to say ‘cheese’ by another hapless photographer…

‘Murder’!

#2 – Cheese Sandwich

Every day for the last forty years, my wife has made me cheese sandwiches for lunch. She must have given me a couple of tons of cheese over the years, made from who knows how many gallons of milk, donated by hundreds of cows.

I’ve been through the lot… Cheddar, brie, gorgonzola, edam; accompanied by all manner of salads, sauces and condiments.

Forty years of cheese that must be some sort of record, surely?

And every day for the last forty years, I’ve thrown those damn sandwiches in the bin and gone to Subway instead.

Cheese… Can’t stand the stuff!

#3 – Fondon’t

Back in the seventies, I was invited to one of those parties that were all the rage.

Having not been to a fondue party before, I wanted to make a good impression, so

on the day in question, I turned up: Moustache trimmed, trendy sports coat – (the one with leather elbow patches) – bottle of liebfraumilch in hand, and slightly sweating lump of cheese, which I handed with a flourish to my hosts.

It was only once gathered around the table, when the guests started throwing their car keys into the fondue pot, I realised my rather big mistake!

JERRY

2015-05-20 Cheese
————————-
A little known fact is that Oklahoma is today the cheese capital of the world. The reason for this? In the 1940s a cheese blight, better known as the “blitzkrieg”, destroyed the capability of Europe to produce any cheese, except cottage cheese. This was and still is a closely guarded secret thus enabling the Europeans to keep their self-esteem. Needless to say we here in Okie-land keep the secret and export all our production to other countries, such as Switzerland, which has the only existent working cheese drill, and they, in turn, repackage our product for export as their own.
——————-

MUNSI

Nachos

By Christopher Munroe

Holy hell, I want nachos right now.

I mean, I always want nachos a little, nachos are basically amazing, they’re nature’s perfect food.

Carbs covered in cheese with hot sauce on top, you tell me something in this world that’s better than that, and I’ll call you a liar right to your face.

But I can’t have nachos, not yet, I’m in the middle of writing a story, I can not take a break until I’m done.

Big push to the end, Munsi, big push to the end. Get to one hundred words and finish.

THEN there will be nachos…

LIZZIE

The large group gathered at an Italian restaurant for wine and cheese.
She hated it. She hated the fake smiles, the fake white teeth, the fake everything.
For two excruciating hours, and out of desperation, she chopped cheese in small cubes with a huge knife while everyone pretended to be everyone else’s friend.
At the end of the get-together, the proverbial group photo was taken.
Several years later, she sat down at the same restaurant. She looked at the photo while holding that same huge knife, the one she would get rid of right after finishing the wine… by herself.

SERENDIPITY

I like cheese, in fact I like cheese a lot – and I hate to share mine.

However, much as I like cheese, I dislike mice running around my home just as much, and – as everybody knows – if you’re going to trap mice, you’ve got to use cheese.

I bait the trap, place it strategically where I know the mice will find it, then sit out of sight, waiting for the tell tale snap and squish that signals another rodent has met its maker.

Then I settle down to enjoy my little snack – cheesy, crunchy mouse… so delicious, whilst still warm!

ZACKMANN

Deciding to relax Jack grabs a frying pan, He finds some bread and some habanero cheddar. After turning burner on to warm the pan, Jack adds some olive oil then decides to listen to a writing podcast as he cooks.He hears one of the Dead Robots say something about sometimes a story is not always about saving the world but sometimes only about making a really good sandwich then Jack hears shuffling. Jack grabs a spatula and a pot holder, puts his sandwich on a plate, then hits the zombie over the head with the hot cast iron pan.

TOM

Grandma and Me

When my mother delivered a new baby I got to go to grandma’s to stay. It was there I learned the secret wisdom of the grill cheese sandwiches. While American cheese is formulated to melt between a hamburger bun and said meat, it was not the proper selection for the classic grill cheese. It’s got to me Cheddar, and not just any cheddar. There’s this farm outside of Rhinelander that has been making cheddar since the civil war. To truly create the prefect grilled sandwich it must rest in a bed of browning butter. If you’re counting calories, better walk away.

Aged for Ten Years

Each year in July we take a monster road trip. A 1000 miler to Canada. Much of it along the edge of the Pacific Ocean. Along that road sits the insanely green Tillamook Valley. The cheese factory, the Tillamook County Creamery Association, is part Rube Goldberg, part Dr. Seuss. Through glass walls you can watch a maze of conveyor belts reduce 20 pound blocks of cheese to store ready products. They have got a tasting room to die for. Dozens of Dishes full of every type of cheese. Fun stuff too, like cheese curd, a bit like cheese chewing gum.

Comfort Food

I love cheese. Gorgonzola to Edam. When I was a kid I ate the cheap stuff, but as an adult I can indulge in the pricier stuff. Someone said why eat to live when you can live to eat. Of late I’ve discovered this outstanding near Cheddar out of Ireland called Dubliner. It was introduced to the United States in 1999. But it took a bit to break into the California market. It’s sweet, but at the same time a sharp edge that doesn’t lose its flavor in the deepest hero sandwich. On a Ciabatta, with Brandywine, Guacamole, Chipotle. Yumm

ANIMA

Memorial Day Rant

I hate the company picnic. Why is it always hot dogs and burgers?

Here’s the typical burger: An unseasoned patty grilled to grey, on a bleached white flour bun. And cheesburgers? They’re topped with slices of single-serve white or orange plastic. I love me a cheeseburger, but WTF. This cheese “product” melts itself to the humble meat patty, but has no taste and adds nothing to the visual appeal.

I know the company is economizing, but really, once a year, can I get a decent meal?

This year, let’s skip the burgers, and nosh instead on Vermont Cheddar and grapes.

NORVAL JOE

The Dairy Board would have us believe that anything is better if we spread a little aged spoiled milk on it.
In a lot of cases that’s true. My wife likes to eat tart apples with a slice of cheddar. It’s great with a lot of meats, elevating it from an average meal to truly memorable.
I don’t know of a cheese that goes well with Captain Crunch, frosted flakes or Cocoa Puffs.
And how about Jury Duty? Slathering it with Brie or sprinkling on some grated Romano won’t make that any better. On second thought, it’s worth a try.

TURA

Cheese
——–
Thank you for your invitation to dinner. Please remember that I cannot eat cheese. If there’s only a little bit of cheese in something, it’s cheese. Any fermented milk product is, for this purpose, cheese. Panna cotta, sour cream, yoghurt: they all count as cheese. If a savoury dish has the word “gratin” in the name, yes, I know that doesn’t mean “cheese” by the dictionary, but ten to one cheese will be present. If you’re thinking about any other edge cases, they’re cheese as well.

Call it a fence around the law if you like, I call it cheese.
——–

PLANET Z

if a cheeseburger is a burger with cheese on it, is a hamburger a burger with ham on it?
At Fred’s Ham Shack, it most certainly is.
Every burger gets a slice of ham on it.
If you ask for cheese, it becomes a hamburger with cheese.
And if you ask not to have ham on your burger, Fred attacks you with a knife.
Why on earth would you come to Fred’s and not want ham on your burger?
It’s what he’s famous for, after all.
He spends so much time seasoning and smoking the ham.
And sharpening his knife.

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:

• Munsi
• Norval Joe
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Deanne Charlton
• Tom
• Jerry
• Zackmann
• Serendipity
• Anima
• Lizzie
• Tura Brezoianu
• Planet Z

What’s the next Weekly Challenge? Come to the website and subscribe to the feed to find out!

MUNSI

Words Don’t Exist

By Christopher Munroe

I have no words.

I mean, obviously I have words, I talk constantly. The sound of my voice is among the most soothing things that I’ve found in this world and it’s something I come back to time and time again to fill the gaping void that exists at the center of my life.

Seriously: I love, love, LOVE listening to myself.

What I mean is, in this specific circumstance, no words exist to properly express the magnitude of what’s going on.

It’s utterly beyond comprehension. I can’t even begin to describe it…

So, yeah. This circumstance.

Am I right?

NORVAL JOE

I don’t know what Sumodat is. It’s my momma’s word, but it seemed to change meaning.
First time she used it was when I hid brussel sprouts in my pocket.
She said, “You like dem sprouts? Good. I’ll give you sumodat.” And made me eat the whole bowl.
Next was when she hit me with a wooden spoon and I laughed at her.
“You like dat? Good. I’ll give you sumodat.” She laughed until the spoon broke.
Last, she was dying from cancer and in terrible pain, and they gave her morphine.
She said, “Good. You can give me sumodat.”

JEFFREY

Djinn-Tonic <-- okay, you had me with this one
by Jeffrey Fischer

As I cleaned my father’s attic after his death, I spied a leather-bound book. As my hand glided across its weathered surface, I was astonished to see a creature appear.

“Bless you, for you have freed me from my imprisonment within those dusty bindings. I will grant you a Djinn-Tonic.”

“A what?”

“Djinn-Tonic. It’s my own name. I’m a Djinn, of course, and my boon to you is a tonic, so…” He spread his hands. “Look, you get a wish. Think of something and it will be so. Just be careful…Eh, what am I saying? You humans always blow it.”

I determined to keep my mind a blank until I knew what I wanted. All I could think of was the saying “Don’t think of an elephant.” Yep. I am now the proud owner of an elephant.

Zymoxic
by Jeffrey Fischer

“Zymoxics. That’s 30 points for the word, triple word score, plus 50 for using all my tiles. One hundred forty points. I win.” I placed the tiles so the “C” was abutting the blank being used as an “S” in “shoe.”

“Come off it. ‘zymoxics’ is not a real word.”

“Sure it is. See, the ‘zy’ prefix is from the Greek, meaning ferment, while ‘mox’ is the same root as ‘moxie,’ meaning courage. So zymoxcis are fermented drinks, like beer, that make you braver than otherwise.”

My friend bowed. “You win.”

I have a terrible vocabulary, but I started liking Scrabble much better when we stopped scoring by the rules and instead awarded points for the most creative whoppers told in making up definitions.

RICHARD

A word that doesn’t exist

I intended writing a story about a word that doesn’t exist – a creation of my own making, for which I could concoct fantastical meanings.

Then I realised I couldn’t write a story about a word that doesn’t exist, because the mere act of writing it down would defeat my own argument… such a word, no matter how contrived or meaningless, would then, nevertheless, exist. A quantumly physical type of word if you will, whereby the mere act of observation suffices to change its inherent nature.

Instead, I’ll imagine it exists… And I’ll imagine I’m writing an imaginary story about it.

DEANNE CHARLTON

STORY (A word that doesn’t exist)

The impact got my attention and we never remembered what we’d been talking about. Thomas’s face erupted red when the airbag broke his glasses. With no fatalities, he would joke for months, when unable to think of a word, “Hey, I have a head injury!”

Not I. An editor, I was unseated when I looked up, asked him, “How do you spell ‘anthrasam’?” He seemed bewildered. “You know, the substitute for ‘and’,” I insisted, drawing one in the air above my left shoulder. “It’s with all A’s, isn’t it?”

He replied gently, “You mean ‘ampersand’.”

My world, too, had wrecked.

TOM

Baby Girl

I come from a large Catholic family, thus a pile of Christian names for my sibs like Dennis and Chris. None of us had a nickname, except my sister Pat. My father, who had a habit of marking stuff up, called her Moogee Mogg. “That is not a word,” we’d say. Out came my father’s fountain pen, on to the paper he’d write in silver ink. “See it is a word.” “What does it mean,” we’d complain. “It means your sister.” We all laugh and say that’s silly. Years later I come to understand the whole universe is Moogee Mogg.

Broadly Excepted

I believe POETIC LICENSE is too broadly implemented. If I was making up the rules Poetic License would be limited to creating words for orphaned expressions. Take the colors silver and purple. Currently there aren’t any words in English which rhyme with either. This oversight would be address under my new improved rule.

Let’s start with the basics pilver and surple, a type of beer and the way to drink it. On to the intermediates Wilver and Zurple the movement of a cat on catnip. And last drilver and Thurple, the head teamster and his brakeman.

Have a Milver Lurple day.

My Word

I have a word that does not exist, but it should. It is a lovely word both in purpose and form. It is lilting on the tongue and parses through the air like a silver thread. It is cautionary and in the correct situation lends itself to a teachable moment. Not wholly foreign in structure, built from time honored parts. It may be viewed as presumptuous as Antidisestablishmentarianism, but I prefer to see it as precisional. I have written to the folks at Webster’s to add it to their lexicon, sadly deaf ears. Perhaps they too are suffering from Hypercriticality.

JERRY

The mob surged down the dirt road and up the hill. Their expression and the fire in their eyes was not now of friendship and love. Men, women, and children had picked up sticks and stones on the way from the town to Visitor Hill. To save himself all Sam had to do was say one word. The problem was, in Sam’s world, that the word did not exist. How can you say something that does not exist.

Sam looked up to the blue sky and heaven with his three eye stalks and wished for the return of the ship.

KORY

“Why did you get arrested?” the troll asked Matt.

“Verbal abuse of the Creative Commons Attribution NonComerial ShareAlike 4.0 International Licence”

“I hate that one.” Said the copyright troll.

Matt pointed toward third person in the cell then said “I’m surprised you didn’t eat him just to stop the snoring.”

“You’ve no evidence that my people still eat your people. Also they haven’t coined a term of what he did but it involves shouting “Vive La France!” every time he saw someone drinking a Mexican beer on May Fifth. I couldn’t eat someone who supports my current country’s military?”

SERENDIPITY

The verdict rang out in the hushed courtroom: “Guilty, on all counts”.

Before sentencing, the judge turned to address me with contempt in his voice:

“In all my years on the Bench, I have seldom had the misfortune to preside over a case such as yours. Your crimes are abhorrent in the extreme and lack any shred of humanity.

To torture, debase and murder so many, in such a callous manner, is beyond comprehension; yet what is far worse is that you are proud of your deeds.

‘Remorse’ it seems, is a word that for you, simply does not exist!

ANIMA

I came across this entry in Fodor’s Guide to Party Animals: Mumbolians.

Hmm.

Typically nocturnal, but can sometimes be found in the late afternoon of a big tailgate weekend…

Migrations occur in New Orleans between Mardi Gras and Jazzfest, and can be spotted in Las Vegas anytime.

Breeding Grounds: South Padre Island in the month of March

Distinguishing Characteristics: Chameleonic. Often appearing aware of their surroundings, until consuming one more sip of cocktail, or the pills kick in. Then they slide off bar stools and spout incomprehensible gibberish.

Early onset Mumbolianism is often seen at High School Graduation after-parties.

Interesting…

LIZZIE

That word doesn’t exist, Randy thought, suspecting Patrick, his neighbor, to be either under the influence or raving mad.

Raving mad was a good option, considering that Patrick decided to fill his garden with truck tires recently. When asked why he was doing that, Patrick replied it was for the aliens to land safely in his back yard. Randy laughed.

“But where did you hear that word?”

Patrick, the neighbor, replied, “From the aliens.”

Randy would remember this many years later. The mystery word meant hello and it would be the first word Randy had to learn after the invasion.

TURA

A word that doesn’t exist
——–
I was idling on a park bench when I saw the little green man. It was standing next to me and anxiously tugging my sleeve.

“It is most important that you [….],” it said.

“Er…” I answered smartly.

“You must [….] at once! Or the [….] will [….]!”, it said, jumping up and down with urgency.

“Your universal translator seems to be on the blink,” I said.

“[….]!!” it screamed again, and vanished.

Then I looked up and saw the alien invasion beginning. So I [….]ed, and the spaceships crumbled into dust. Either that, or the drugs were wearing off.

PLANET Z

When two goons in cheap, ill-fitting suits say that the boss wants a word with you, he doesn’t want a word with you.
You have only two choices:
As they’re taking you to the car, run; or run right then and there.
I got in the car.
It’s a nice car. Too nice for anyone to want to shoot anybody in it.
Which is why they took me out in the country.
Out in the middle of a cornfield.
The way the wind blew through the stalks, it was so beautiful.
I barely heard the gunshot, or felt the bullet.