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: VICE

We’ve got stories by:

• Danny
• Chelsea
• Munsi
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Tom
• Lizzie
• Zackmann
• Serendipity
• Richard
• Tura Brezoianu
• Jeffrey
• John
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of GUARD…

DANNY

Incoherent ramblings rumble through my mind as Miami Vice, not the NBC show about busting sex rings, but the actual factory that makes industrial strength vices for automotive workshops around the United States closes its doors because it was outsourced to China. The hookers are totally fooled. They line up for blocks outside the doors because they assume the factory must be filled with johns lining up for last desperate blow jobs after being told they are fired. After all, this is the factory district. Not amused, NBC decides to reinstate Miami Vice after it was canceled indefinitely for retooling.

CHELSEA

Vice

I won’t deny it, there are things, many things that Indulge in. Nothing too hard core. No heavy drugs or gambling or anonymous sex. I’ve thankfully managed to keep away from anything that will kill me, quickly at least.

I do smoke and drink on occasion. I eat too much junk food, I spend too much time surfing the net and playing on line for it to be strictly normal.

But, at the end do the day, of all the things in indulge in, you my darling, are the one thing I just can’t get enough of. My sweetest Vice.

MUNSI

Vices

By Christopher Munroe

We all have vices.

The drink too many at the pub, the cigarette habit we can’t seem to overcome, an annual trip to Vegas that always winds up over its initial gambling budget…

…some, out of our mind on hallucinogens, might kill a stranger with our bare hands because it’s the only way we can achieve orgasm.

I, out of my mind on hallucinogens, kill strangers with my bare hands because it’s the only way I can achieve orgasm.

But that’s beside the point.

The point is, we all have vices.

So how can we judge the vices of others?

DIONYSIUS

Virtues and Vices

Yeah. Maybe you heard that sayin’, Virtues turns into vices and vices turns into virtues.

The others nodded.

Buck was a goddamn good dog.

Once I bought this mamacow, wild as a deer, right off the reservation I guess and damned if she didn’t come after me soon as I let her out. Buck jumped right in there ‘til she
chased him ‘round the truck ‘n’ high-tailed it.

He had one vice, chasin’ cars. He just didn’t know what to do with it when he finally caught one.

Hell if I know what that has to do with virtue, he laughed. Pass me ‘nother beer.

The Way to a Man’s Heart

The way to a man’s heart, my mother said, is through his vices. For years I assumed this meant sex, so I catered to Dick’s desires.

And we got married. But after eight years of marriage, I realized that his real vices were lying on the lounger, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other, a bag, box, or plate of fat on his fat belly, watching sports. The sex had been a test.

My mother’s wisdom still worked, though. I dutifully brought him beer, cigarettes, and fat. That man’s vices were the best way to his heart.

Resentment

You’d think an “omnipotent Being” wouldn’t have a problem with motivation,you know? You can do whatever you want!

I mean, in the beginning He had some big ideas , and you could look forward to fucking them up. And because He had those big plans, I was able to promote some major sins in those days. The Fall of Man — that was a day’s work. That was more than a vice! Nowadays you get vices at best.

Mass murders? Abuse of women and children? Slaughters of innocents? They don’t last.

Is it my fault? I can’t do nothin’ about procrastination.

Embarrassing

Well, said my mother, this is a story that embarrasses me.

My wife Susan and I were relaxing with her and my stepdad on their back porch. He’d just said how the hospital bill for his first daughter was only $52.

When Jim was born, the BlueCrossBlueShield paid everything — except we paid $57 to get him circumcised. When I took him back, Dr. Smith took a look and said, Well, we circumcised the wrong baby.

My stepdad asked her, Should you be talking about that in front of Susan?

I think she knows, said my mother. I can’t imagine why I never asked for my $57 back.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle stood in the dark surveying the kennels in his back yard. The girls in one to the right and the boys on the left. Twenty three dogs in all.
Some would consider it a vice to have so many dogs.
Not Dergle. To him a wiener dog was a symbol of strength, of power, of tenacity and endurance. The more wiener dogs one could own, the greater a persons capacity and influence.
He had struggled to use his powers for good only to be discounted and dismissed.
The world would rue the day Dergle turned his efforts to evil.

TOM

Well Defined Relationship Part 67

“Ouch,” said mother. One of the tiny spaceships was glowing.

“Engineering on my mark all power to the shields,” said the captain. “Helm, Vice Maneuver Zed 9 on ten.” “Data reverse the polarity on the trakyon stream.”

“Captain, the life force has released the hull. We are in freefall.”

Before the Duke could reach out the Enterprise was skimming above the mud. When the DeathStar fired up the death ray mother dropped it also. It landed in the mud popped three times and imploded.

“Best you give me that one back,” said the Duke holding up a tiny jump gate.

Grandpa’s Vice

Benny was not allowed to touch anything in his Grandfather’s shop, lots of really sharp stuff. It was clear from observing his uncles that no one questioned the old man’s word. The joke in the family was he brought you into the world, he could just as easily take you out. Benny thought it odd no one laughed at the joke. Knowing the need to impress a young mind with an adequate practical demonstration Grandpa took a piece of copper tubing put it in the iron vice and spun the handle crushing it.

“Here,” said grandpa, “you can touch this.”

Nearly a Saint

I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I don’t gamble. I don’t covet wives, goods, or goats. I don’t do coffee, coke, or coco puffs. I really don’t have much in the way of vices, but if computer were on the list of Seven Deadly Sins, I would surely be hell-bound. It could be argued given my profession all things electronic are merely tools of the trade. Nope. I’ve seen the statues of the 7, the leering smile, gapping mouths, and wild eyes, that’s me.

“Bless me father for I have sinned it has been 24 hours since my last purchase

LIZZIE

The devil crossed the border, looked around and decided that that small village was the perfect place for a vacation. When he set out to find a hotel, he came across a smartly dressed man. He felt so tempted; a foot, just a foot, and the idiot would trip. He sneered. Then he came across a kid on his new bike; a foot, just a foot… He sneered. Finally, he came across an elderly lady. This was the one. A foot, just a foot, and… The devil was shocked and mortified. His pride was completely shattered. The elderly lady sneered.

ZACKMANN

“Bye dearest. I am off to Vice City Hardware because they have a sale new vices and just got a shipment in from Miami.” he said.

“You almost never do anything handy. Why do you need a vice?” she asks.

“Because dearest, all my writer friends tell me that everyone needs a vice. The Vice City Hardware flyer says they started naming them like Ikea does. The one I am buying is called Roy. I have been tracking the shipments of the advertised items. You know how important it is to follow good Add Vice and free flashlight with purchase.

SERENDIPITY

If I have any fault, it’s that I don’t have a vice.

I’ve plenty of other tools of the trade – chisels, hammers, clamps and saws, but I’ve never really had need of a vice and, to be honest, it’s never been a hindrance to my craft.

In fact, if I may boast – I’m the best in the trade.

You see, a good workman knows how to get the best from his tools, and knows exactly which tools are suited to the job.

Oh, you thought I was a carpenter?

No! – I’m master torturer for the Spanish Inquisition!

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 70: Fate

George held the steering wheel in a vice-like grip, his body tense as he realised exactly where he was.

Breathing slowly, he let the horror, anger and finally, disappointment, wash over him as he stared at the building through the cracked windscreen.

Things had come full circle – fate, it seemed, still had games to play.

He faced a choice: did he play along, or get the hell out of there?

Grimly, he opened the door and climbed down from the vehicle; “Let’s see what fate has in store”, he muttered, walking purposefully towards the hospital where his journey had started.

#2 – Miami Vice

Pockett and Scrubbs were considered Miami’s finest, although you’d never have guessed it from seeing them. Armani suits, shades, designer stubble and fast cars were hardly the usual vice squad image, but then Pockett and Scrubbs were hardly your usual vice cops.

It was all a big game: the guns, the car chases, the violence and the action – the suits and sports cars just added a certain glamour and sex appeal to the job.

They lived for the job – an irony not lost on their colleagues… for Pockett and Scrubbs had their own consuming vice:

The job itself!

JEFFREY

Little Eva
by Jeffrey Fischer

In my high school, like many around the country, the principal and vice-principal played a form of good cop/bad cop. The principal was a cheerful, rotund man who always gave the impression that he liked his job and liked being around students. Clearly, he was an excellent actor. His reward upon retirement was to have the football stadium named after him. His vice-principal was a short, plump woman (sarcastically nicknamed “Little Eva” because of her size or “Eva Braun” because we thought she behaved like her namesake’s boyfriend) who seemed to delight in meting out punishment to students. One didn’t mind being called to the principal’s office; it was the vice-principal’s one wanted to avoid. Hers was a thankless job.

Hair Extensions
by Jeffrey Fischer

Ferguson, Missouri doesn’t seem like a wealthy place, but a number of troublemakers have been using the protests over Michael Brown’s death as cover for a multi-day looting spree. Ferguson doesn’t have enough native looters, so they’ve been importing looters from St. Louis and from as far away as Texas. Looters tend not to be very specific about what they take: sneakers and hair extensions seem to be popular items. I used to think these people were horrible opportunists, taking advantage of a difficult situation in order to steal from business owners and employers of locals. But then I started thinking. Barry Goldwater famously said, “Extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice.” Although one might not think of looters as devotees of Goldwater, perhaps they’re just liberating merchandise from the shelves.

Joe
by Jeffrey Fischer

Candidate Obama mulled over the short list of candidates for his running mate. He wanted someone smart, someone who could help him with tough policy decisions. It would be good if the person had skills complementary to Obama’s. Someone from a large, in-play state would be helpful, as would having a solid, respected politician who would be a viable candidate when Obama’s terms were over. All these were important. However, one criterion stood above the rest: as the vice-president was a heartbeat away from being the Leader of the Free World, Obama needed someone who was enough of a bozo that not even the lunatic fringe of the country would think about evicting him from office.

And that’s how Joe Biden became Vice-President.

TURA

Vice
——–
The Viceroy of Khandhrastan pondered the petition that his steward found nailed to the palace gates. It said only, “O pinnacle of the age!” He was pleased to hear of his popularity.

The next week, his steward found another. It said, “Rejoice on the day of celebration!” He considered this must refer to the anniversary of his appointment, a week thence. He decided to arrange feasting and entertainments for the people.

On that day, his steward found a third, which said “Come, and be satisfied!”

The Viceroy ordered the palace gates opened.

The people stormed in and began the revolution.
——–
General Wei investigated reports concerning government officials and ladies of the night. After consulting eminent scholars of virtue, he instituted the Register of Vices, specifying for every rank of official the vices to be Forbidden, Disapproved, Approved, or Compulsory.

Among Compulsory vices was the fathering of children upon courtesans, the number of such required offspring being proportionate to the rank of the official. Approved vices included managing a house of ill repute, Disapproved was the zealous prosecution of Approved vices, and absolutely Forbidden was to divulge the contents of that Register, whose only copy was held by the Vice Minister.
——–

The Entrapper
by John Musico

Vice cop Burt was known among the perps as “The Entrapper”.
Like many cops, Burt’s marriage was going sour.
Meanwhile, criminals, many a time falsely busted by Burt, plotted their revenge. Nicki, an expert at insurance fraud, drafted a hefty life insurance policy for Burt’s wife. Malinda made calls, as a concerned neighbor, for escalating domestic unrest. Lefty took a set of prints from the site of Lefty’s most recent arrest by Burt in Lefty’s home, Burt’s prints. Finally, Blade the assassin knocked off Burt’s wife. He placed Burt’s prints on the murder weapon, a large knife from Burt’s kitchen…

PLANET Z

My two least favorite letters on the Scrabble board are V and C. Goddamned tiles!

Sure, they’re worth more than the usual points, but you can’t make a two-letter word out of them. I like two-letter words. Quick and dirty points.

You see, the two-letter words let you build across or down from a vowel, especially valuable when it’s a double or triple.

When I get two or three or four of those damned V or C tiles, and I can’t come up with a word like Vice or Vav, I’ll dump them.

And get them right back.

Goddamned tiles!

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: FORK

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Tom
• Serendipity
• Spate
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• Tura Brezoianu
• Zackmann
• Dionysis Clowes
• Norval Joe
• Danny
• Lizzie
• Julie
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of VICE…

JOHN

Unseen Forks in the Road.
by John Musico

At the helm, I gazed ahead, fixed on my planned destination. To verify that I was indeed holding a straight steady course; I turned to inspect the whitewash behind the boat. Incredibly, my path had been instead serpentine; weaving to and fro! An epiphany drenched me like a bucket of cold water. We look ahead at the next small step, feeling that we are the captains of our destiny. However, if we look back, way back; all evidence is to the contrary. So, when things don’t go as you “planned”; remember- they never actually did; so don’t beat yourself up.

JEFFREY

Two Paths Diverged
by Jeffrey Fischer

Neil Young once opined that if you don’t know where you’re going, it doesn’t matter which road you travel. One day, while hiking in the woods, I decided to put that view to the test: when I came upon a fork in the path, I flipped a coin to decide which to take. Heads, I went left; tails, right.

One time I got heads six times in a row and found myself back at the same intersection, two hours after I left it. Usually, though, I got an assortment of lefts and rights, leading me to interesting vistas and less well-trodden paths.

Of course, a good thing can still go to unfortunate extremes. Enough random choices and one forgets where one started – or where one is currently located, relative to one’s car. All of which is to say: if you find this note, please send help. I’m lost!

Medium Rare
by Jeffrey Fischer

Freddy Boulier was an intrepid explorer. His latest interest was the Zampani tribe, a fiercely private group in the Amazonian jungle. Freddy heard they practiced cannibalism, though he was skeptical. Accompanied by a native translator, Freddy made the trek into the jungle to visit the tribe.

In a jungle clearing, the Zampini danced around a simmering pot of water. “Welcome!” said the chief, through the aid of the translator. “We heard a brave explorer had come to visit us.” Four burly tribesmen picked him up and placed him in the pot of water. Freddy started to babble, trying to avoid becoming that night’s entrée. When he finally stopped, the chief asked the translator if Freddy had finished speaking. The translator, eagerly awaiting fresh meat for dinner, replied, “Stick a fork in him. He’s done.”

Sadly, the joke didn’t translate well, and the tribe ate twice as well that evening.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story – Part 69: Indirection

The fact remained that George still had no idea where exactly this particular god-forsaken place was. None of the street signs he saw were particularly helpful and he found himself driving aimlessly around in the hope of discovering a road that would lead him out.

Arriving at a fork in the road, he debated whether to go right or left – finally opting for left, since up until now he’d seldom been right!

Something about his surroundings seemed familiar… he felt the stirrings of memory: he knew this place, he was sure of it.

Turning a corner, he stopped dead…

#2 – Cutlery Creation

Grandpa Jack emerged from his workshop, beaming with pride.

“I did it!”, he exclaimed, “The first sentient robot, and created entirely from washing machine parts and cutlery!”

Sure enough, his unique creation was a wonder to behold, although I was more than a little concerned that grandpa had chosen to use steak knives for the robots fingers.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”, I asked, nodding towards the twitching knives.

“Of course I’m safe!”, replied the robot.

“Wow, it speaks!”, I blurted.

“Indeed it does”, said grandpa, “but I wouldn’t believe a word it says… I gave it a fork tongue!”

#3 – Buffet

I hate buffets.

I hate the food: pastry-laden morsels of heartburn, served at a bacteria-loving room temperature, prodded and poked by the sweaty fingers of those in the queue in front.

And the queue! The endless, mindless, shuffling, irritation of it all!

Then, with laden, soggy paper plate, you juggle with wine, canapes and conversation, all the while praying desperately not to drop the whole lot.

Rotten food, warm wine, useless plates and dreadful conversation, could it possibly get any worse?

Oh yes… because no-one has ever mastered the breakable, bendable, utterly uncommendable horrors of the puny, pathetic, plastic fork!

TOM

Well Defined Relationship Part 66

“Listen here, Duke God.”
“Call me Marion.”
“Yes … Marion I’m not going to allow my son …”
“Could you please hold these?”
“What?”
“They’re spaceships.”
“s-p-a-c-e-s-h-i-p-s”
“Don’t drop them there are people inside.”

Mother continued, “ to be put in that level of danger.”

“Correct Mrs. Parsons which is why I’m here. You have arrived at the fork in the road. One of my Divinical Duties to my five million followers”

Both Banister and Smith let out a low whistle.

“is to insure the Profit safely fulfills his density and to that end I will be joining your company.”

A Post-Modern Culinary Report III

After evaluating both the American and Japanese Sporks I can safely say what’s wrong with their design structure. In both cases the spork is not fork enough. In the case of the American Spork the curved tines impede piercing and the gaps allow fluid leakage. In the case of the Nippon Spork the tines rest under the spoon area allowing parallel protrusion, sadly without careful maneuvering during the slurping action one is likely to jab a lip or the gum line. So the most elegant alteration would be retractable tines, a reverse vampire tap forking Spork. Humbly submitted Lendus Lacksmore.

SERENDIPITY

A fork of lightning flickered on the horizon – a storm was coming, and it was going to be a big one.

She shivered, pulling the bedclothes over her head, waiting for the fury to come.

Her big brother used to mock her fear of thunderstorms – “Don’t be such a sissy”, he’d laugh – until the night the storm took him, screaming, to his death.

Father, mother, all her family – all were taken, one by one; storm by storm.

And now, the storm was coming for her too.

Distant thunder rumbled, as she burrowed deeper under the sheets.

SPATE

Eye Candy

When he was but a wee baby, Mama decided it was time he learned to feed
himself, so she set a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of him and placed
a fork in his hand.

With innocent delight he proceeded to thrust that fork directly into Mama’s
eye.

One Eyed Mama (as she’s now known) swore an oath that this child would never
be given a fork again.

And so it is, to this day, he eats without a fork. or a knife for that
matter…just a spoon.

After all, spoons make tidy work of extracting eyeballs.

(Music: “Funeral March For A Marionette” by Ergo Phizmiz
[http://www.ergophizmiz.net]
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England)

MUNSI

The Chef

By Christopher Munroe

His massive eyebrows furrow as he throws himself, body and soul, into his work.

Chef’s hat set low upon his brow, moustache twitching in concentration as he slaves in his kitchen, so devoted to what he does that it has become all that he is.

Did he once have a name? Bjorn? Benny? It’s lost to him now, in the haze of food and creation.

But it’s all worthwhile, in the end. He’s the best there is at what he does. And such delicacies he creates…

But what utensil to use to sup upon his grand creations?

Fork fork fork!

CHELSEA

Fork

She sat there on her rock looking at the forks before her.

To her left was her home, a place she was not keen to see again, ever.

To her right was the dark forest, full of adventure, mystery and danger. She had explored it many times in her youth.

Ahead of her the path was new. This fork had not been there when last she passed this way.

The path was completely obscured by a strange mist, enticing her with only the first few steps.

‘Here we go!’ She said, jumping off the rock and disappearing into the mist.

TURA

The preacher said, “There are no forks in the road, only different paths to the same destination.”

One replied, “Tell us of this destination.”

He answered, “The end of all paths, the cessation of suffering, the reward obtained by the holy men of all ages.”

Another sneered, “I know this riddle, the answer is death!”

The priest’s acolytes drew machine-guns and mowed down the congregation.

“They were a miserly lot,” said the priest, as they rifled the bodies for jewellery and fat wallets. “Mining them out is a shorter branch of this fork than waiting on a trickle of donations.”

ZACKMANN

I fight with rice. The food not the football player. I remember attempting to eat rice in a Japanese restaurant with chopsticks. Being alone that day, I was more nervous and self conscious than I usually am. I did poorly. A waitress walked up to me, smiled then commanded “You will use a fork.” A friend assured me that like him if I practiced I could get good enough to get every last grain of rice on the plate. Now after living with a Pinoy I can’t eat rice with a fork anymore or with chopsticks only with a spoon.

DIO

A Childhood Memory

I remember the first time I ever used a fork.

As soon as ma and gaga left, the babysitter called her boyfriend. I grumbled a bit from the playpen.

Before long he showed up with beer and bud. They were decidedly interested in the contents of each other’s pants but not mine. Nothing could deter them from the inevitable, even as I watched through my screams.

Their lust sated, they fell on the contents of our refrigerator. At last they thought of me.

The little dude is hungry! said the boyfriend. What does he eat?

Nothing with a fork, I thought, as I jabbed it through his eye.

NORVAL JOE

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
Boy, was I surprised.
I figured, somebody went this way, or there wouldn’t be a trail. A couple miles along, I ran into this guy who wasn’t at all happy to see me. I thought maybe he was a hiker, or a hippie, or democrat. When I got close, I saw he had a gun and a pitbull. He said I’d be smarter to go the other way, I might live longer.
He said he was a farmer. I thought farmers were frendlier than that.

DANNY

EeSaw is an elderly blind man who lives in a small remote cabin on the edge of a majestic lake in the Northwestern Territories of Canada. Every morning Eesaw grabs his walking stick and heads to the fork in the road in front of his cabin, choosing a different direction to walk each day. Regardless which direction EeSaw takes, he always winds up back at the same fork in the road by his cabin, because the road simply winds around the lake. Life gives you the illusion of choice, when in reality, we all end up in the same place.

LIZZIE

The man stormed out of the restaurant, screaming. He ran around aimlessly before collapsing onto a pile of snow. Upon closer inspection, the police officer realized that the man had a fork stuck in his eye. Some said it was an accident, others a bet. When the officer got closer, the man lifted his face from the snow and smiled. “What a ride!” The officer was baffled. Suddenly, the man stood up and took off running. The ambulance eventually caught up with him in a field, digging for money, he said. “Oh yeah, it was a bet,” concluded the officer.

JULIE

Stick a fork in me.

When I am done cooking—

I will stop

Paying attention.

Wait. no–

That’s my Irish bravado,

kicking in.

I care, immensely.

But it did not hurt.

Wait, yes—it did.

The bleeding stopped,

A few months ago—

It is now a slow clot

A blot,

On my permanent record.

I am going to be just fine,

Thank you.

Tossing shreds of you

Out the window

Shiny metal forks back at you

I am strong, strong
Kicking these last two years

To the curb
you are gone, gone gone.

PLANET Z

Amir came to our school as an exchange student, and he was pretty good with the language, but some idioms threw him off.

The phrase “Stick a fork in it, it’s done” threw him off for a while. He was always sticking forks into things. Thank goodness that he never stabbed a cheerleader or an electrical outlet.

Some guys on the football team tried to convince him that he should use the phrase “That’s the bomb!” But even Amir knew that was pretty fucking stupid to say.

Besides, the authorities determined that the locker room fire was a gas leak.