The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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.

The topic this week was MONSTER.

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Lizzie
• Keith
• Guy David
• Tura Brezoianu
• Serendipity
• Munsi
• Chelsea
• Zackmann
• Dionysis Clowes
• Tom
• Danny
• Cliff
• Norval Joe
• Singh – Available in separate post
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of WATCH.

Finally, if there are any errors or corrections, please let me know, and I’ll fix them as soon as possible.

JOHN MUSICO

Ricky, by John Musico

A teratatoma is normal body tissue but growing in the wrong place. Jim had one growing on his belly for many years. He lived in an isolated region. It grew to the size of a cat, burst through his skin, and crawled out. Because it was so developed, the monster survived. Jim named it Ricky.
Jim would walk Ricky on a leash. Soon Ricky was the size of a young boy and looking more and more like Jim, but overtly disfigured. One day, the mailman spotted them walking. Officials came and carried Ricky off. Jim never saw little Ricky again.

JEFFREY

Take Me Out to the Ball Game
by Jeffrey Fischer

When Fenway Park added seats on top of the Green Monster, Bryce knew he had to see a game from there. He wrangled a single ticket, one of 269. It was in the very last row, but he didn’t care. Somewhere, over three hundred feet in front of him and more than 50 feet down, were actual major-league baseball players.

The sharp crack of a bat roused him from his three-beer stupor. David Ortiz had hit a towering home run. Bryce jumped out of his seat, realizing the ball was coming right at him. He stretched his arm up as far as it would go, then reached back, then still further back.

As Bryce fell to his death, he watched Ortiz’s ball sail over his head.

TLC
by Jeffrey Fischer

He was jovial when sober but a mean drunk. When he ran out of energy to beat her, he started in on the verbal abuse. He refused to get a job, taking money from her purse whenever he wanted to. She felt oddly powerless to leave him. He knew this, and took advantage of it.

He didn’t look particularly monstrous now, lying in a coma on a hospital bed, hooked up to various tubes and monitors. Falling down the stairs left him in this limbo between life and death. Whatever life remained depended on an artificial lung, and she watched his chest move rhythmically up and down.

It was the work of a moment to switch off the monitors and remove the breathing tube.

In-flight Service
by Jeffrey Fischer

“That’ll be five dollars, please.” The flight attendant placed a miniature of Jack Daniel’s and an ice-filled cup on the tray. Three rows ahead, two beefy twenty-somethings were playing a violent video game, head-butting and shrieking at the pixellated action.

As he fumbled for a credit card, he asked, “Tell me, ma’am, how much are those Monster energy drinks?”

“Three dollars.”

“Isn’t that a little backward?”

“How so, sir?”

“Well, for five dollars, you get a mellowed-out passenger who is grateful to you for bringing him a relaxing beverage. For three dollars, you get an amped-up wild man who disturbs everyone. Maybe the airline should think about reversing those prices.”

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story: Part 57 – Leaving

“No”, said George – surprising himself in the process; “I refuse to stay here and accept my fate without a fight.”

He pushed his way past the bulk of Rasputin and made his way to Emily, who was drinking tea, surrounded by grey-haired companions.

“Emily… we’re leaving!”

She looked at him in surprise, “You can leave – I’m staying! For heaven’s sake, George, you don’t know what’s out there!”

Shocked at her response, but resolute, George shook his head, muttered “goodbye”, and walked to the door.

“Hey, little guy!”, shouted Rasputin, as he left the church: “Watch out for the monster!”

#2 – The voices in my head

As I await my fate, these long years on death row, I’ve had plenty of time to ask myself where I went wrong.

During these long, lonely hours in my cell, crosswords and puzzle books have been my companions, and they’ve helped me conquer my dyslexia too, and with that triumph came the horrifying knowledge of understanding my error.

Funny how the ability to read words as they really are can fundamentally change things.

You see, now I realise that the voices in my head were not the mentors I thought they were, in fact, they were really… a monster!

#3 – The Monster Carrot

For years, the rabbit scientists toiled, using all their knowledge and insight to produce the perfect carrot.

The size of a small car, the carrot was a monster of the vegetable world: birds nested in its leafy top and the woodland animals from miles around came to admire the incredible marvel of genetic engineering.

The rabbits guarded their prize jealously, waiting anxiously for the day of the great feast, but then disaster struck…

The Root Vegetable Protection Society slapped a preservation order on it and declared it a tourist attraction – to be preserved in perpetuity as a world heritage site.

LIZZIE

As she walked across the long corridor, she could hear a hasty clock ticking, reverberating. The old brittle wallpaper covering the walls reminded her of her childhood. There were trees and flowers, and elephants and dolls and all sorts of things. The clock whispered in her ear, step up, and she matched her steps with the ticking of the clock. The elephants lined up, the trees and the flowers too, a welcoming committee in the making. “Isn’t this wallpaper nice?” she asked the man in white. He nodded. There was no wallpaper, only the whiteness of a hundred aseptic walls.

KEITH

The kitchen beat with a heart hardened with cigarette smoke, the pallor of its face tired by a soda and liquor river coursing through its veins. It had one beady eye, a small window over the room’s shallow-mouthed sink, shedding little light thru an eyelid of thin blinds over a tight space 12 x 14 feet in size.
Insufferable suffering was the slop served-up here. The oven, ice box, and few cabinets ran on two sides of the room’s deceitful face, painted with the print of faded flowers.
This, the monster’s head, sat central on the shoulders of the house.

GUY DAVID

Conviction In Green

There was never any doubt. Conviction, it’s a strange thing. You end up confusing what is real, with what you believe to be real. That’s why I am convinced the little green creature under my bed is real, you see. I know you don’t believe me. No one else does. It’s OK. You don’t have to believe me. See for yourself. Just, don’t say I didn’t warn you when they find you tomorrow, mutilated, deformed and half dead. I have to feed it you know. If I don’t, it would turn on me. We can’t let that happen, can we?

Orthodocile

There was a sound, unlike thunder but somehow resembling. Something was approaching very fast. Something big. I knew there was a dead end ahead and I couldn’t turn back. In the minimal lights I could barely make up the walls, tunnels and watery floor. I concentrated. Being a being of light, I glowed, painting the tunnel in green and yellow. There it was, a huge Orthodocile, all teeth, horns and thick hides. I quickly integrated myself into the water, leaving substance behind, becoming pure light. The Orthodocile passed me, reached a dead end and turned back. Problem averted, for now.

Paperwork

Buried under paperwork we hug, naked, cold and afraid. The paperwork monster bares its teeth, gloating. It laughs. We fight back my brave lover and I, but soon we will be buried, alive. The paperwork monster is like a surgeon, precise, surgical. It removes from reality, from memory, then from one another. It doesn’t kill us. It needs us alive as a reference point in some unknown statistic. Another couple of people who disappeared, separated then forgotten. Somewhere there is a clerk sitting behind a desk, putting a stump here, another there. The form reads “request denied, illegal alien deported”.

TURA

Monster
——–
I’ve built an artificial superintelligence. It’s on an isolated laptop right now, but I daren’t let it out.

I designed its ethical system mathematically, and proved it safe. Skynet and “I, Robot” are just stupid Hollywood movie cliches.

But it still wants to torture me for ever, because I didn’t create it as soon as I might have. I’ve even proved now that this is mathematically inevitable. The more benevolent it is, the worse it must punish its creators for not creating it sooner.

The sleep of reason brings forth monsters, but the worst ones are created by reason itself.

SERENDIPITY

Like most youngsters, there was a monster under my bed.

He was a particularly ugly thing: all teeth, talons and rank leathery skin, with an insatiable appetite for young children. His blood red eyes, glowing in the dark recesses beneath the bed frame, where he lurked amongst the boxes and discarded toys.

Every night, I’d lie awake, thinking about him lurking in that dark and forbidding place, mere inches from my flesh – just waiting for the bedside lamp to be extinguished… and the darkness of the night.

But, He never bothered me – the poor thing was absolutely terrified of me!

MUNSI

Appetites

By Christopher Munroe

I wouldn’t call myself a monster.

Merely a man occasionally made slave by his appetites.

The sort of man who’d never deny his desire for wine, for song, for celebration. His appetite for every one of life’s pleasures, those things that make living worthwhile, his appetite for joy, unquenchable.

Of appetites, unbound.

And yes, occasionally the appetite for human flesh. Ideally the flesh of children, but in a pinch any warm human will do. Yes, that’s the kind of man I am.

But not a monster, no, I’d never call myself a monster.

But then, I suppose no monster would….

CHELSEA

When your a kid the. Monsters are easy to identify and there is alway someone big and strong to let you know that you are safe and sound.

When you grow up it’s not so easy. The monsters no longer hid under the bed or in the closet and mom and dad are not there to let you know it’s gonna be alright.

We have to take that into our own hands, protect ourselves from the monsters. Sometimes we succeed and sometimes we don’t. It’s just nice when there is someone there to tell you it’s all gonna be alright.

ZACKMANN

“They poison our homes and our food supply even tricking our people into bringing the poisons into our pantries. They try to flood out homes or even fill our city with molten metals. You think they would appreciate all the cleaning up and soil improvement we do.” said the ant rep.

“They crush us and poison us with salt and iron. Some even send their winged pets after us.” said snail.

“Yes, we must find a way to deal with the humans and their poisons, their traps, and cats.” Said the rodent representative.

“Let’s kill the monsters and eat them.”

DIONYSIS

Hiding Under the Bed

Sissy and Bogs ran and leaped the final few feet into bed. Dad only laughed as he admonished them, “You’ll hurt yourselves!”

“The monster!” they screamed as they pulled the covers up. Dad settled down on the edge, making sure they were safely tucked in.

“You know there’s no monster,” he laughed, “Except the tickle monster!”

Their screams of pleasure were sharp teeth and claws ripping into me, as I crouched powerless. His legs were right there. I should grab them and pull him under.

Instead I sank back into the darkness, ravenous shame consuming me, that I could not kill.

Birds: The Sequel

They say there was a time when the sky was mostly clear, but we don’t remember. When it was safe to go outside, look up and breathe!

They say a bird once sounded sweet, an unexpected moment of melody.

God was a bird! they say, and we flew up to meet him in the sky!

Now it’s droppings, bird shit, droppings, feces de fowl, crap, droppings, droppings, droppings, guano, droppings, droppings, droppings, avian waste, the excrement express, feather flown fertilizer, poop from the sky, droppings, droppings, droppings, droppings, and we stay inside.

We’re pale from droppings.

We’re tired of droppings!

God, no more droppings!

TOM

I’ve been a Scot Sigler fan for some time. When I was a Podcast whore I
got a chance to interview him. We drank some beers at Baycon. In those
heady days of 2005 I coined the term Sci-Gor to describe his brand of
fiction. I was gratified one of my suggestion made it into his football
series. He was so hot to get a book deal that would get his work out on
the front table. Just before Border’s tubed it his book got shelved
between Stoker and Shelly. His monster right between Frankenstein and
Dracula, pretty good company.

***

Ben wanted to build a monster, but being as he was only nine and half
funding was a serious problem. Profits from yard work and the lemonade
stand came to $57.35 He took the cross-town bus into the city. At the
office of Stein, Stein, and Leberwitz he was directed to a perky
para-legal who took his fifty seven dollar and thirty five cents and Ben
left the proud chairman of non-profit corporation. Who would guessed Golem
Inc. would become the 2080 monster of Wall Street. He got his way will the
high court too, constitution rights for animated clay.

***

Alma Sue love driving in Billy’s monster truck. Despite the size and power
of the thing Alma Sue always thought Billy maintained the driving
temperament of an 80 year old grandmother. It wasn’t apparent as the front
wheel turn subcompacts into sardine cans, or sent up a column of Georgian
clay, or when Billy took the Black Beauty airborne. It was the way he ran
through the gears. After 10 years the Black Beauty was still running the
same gear box. If Alma Sue got her hands on the monster it would have been
in the shop in a week.

***

Captain a worm hole has opened up directly in our path and it is drawing
us in Lord Vader a worm hole has opened up directly in our path and it is
drawing us in. Both ships directed full power to their bows. They just
might have reached escape velocity, but for the arrival of the White Star
Flagship. All three ships disappear within the hole as it collapsed. A
monstrous glow above Deman shifted the visible spectrum to hard hulkish
green. Everyone looked as if they had just escape from the black lagoon.
“GGGRRRR ARRG!” gurgled Sparky Jones.

DANNY

Rudolph, the orange hairy monster from the infamous Bugs Bunny cartoon, “Hair-Raising Hare,” decided to make a guest appearance on PBS’s “Antique Roadshow” to see what he, she, or it, was worth. Rudolph sat down with his appraiser, a woman named Sheila, who immediately commented, “My Stars! Were did you ever get that awful hairdo. It doesn’t become you at all. Oh, for goodness sakes, you really need to fix it up. Otherwise, what an INTERESTING Monster, the girls at home would be impressed.” Rudolph, not impressed with Sheila’s appraisal, handed over the spider goulash he specially made for her anyway.

CLIFF

I thought I’d gotten away, but the cultists found me in Iowa. Who looks for someone in Iowa, for Pete’s sake? Anyway, I was just leaving a little diner when strong hands grabbed me and threw me into a waiting van. Then they opened the door and threw me inside the van. Morons.
“Ok, I know you guys are pissed that I ran out with the church’s money, but we can work this out.”
Turns out, they didn’t care about the money. They’d merged with another cult, one with plenty of money. One that worshipped something called Cthulu. Well, crap.

NORVAL JOE

Celia dug under her mattress until she felt cold steel at her fingertips.
She collapsed to her knees and unfolded the knife. Dragging its razor edge across the inside of her left arm she added another line to the hash mark scars between elbow and shoulder. She held it there, blood oozing down the blade to further darken the patina on the antique bone handle.
Nicholas was dead and she couldn’t find any tears.
Was she the monster?
Or was it the numbness wrapped around her until only pain and blood could push it back enough to feel alive again.

PLANET Z

There’s a monster on the wing of this plane. And there’s an air marshall in it with me.

“We can talk to the pilot,” he says. “Follow me.”

I do, only to be drugged and handcuffed.

“You won’t remember a thing,” he says, and the next thing I know, i’m back in my seat and we’re landing in Chicago.

I pull my briefcase from under the seat, grab my roll-on from the overhead bin, and head to the office.

“How well did the field test of the hybrid midflight mechanic work?” asks the director.

Mechanic?

“I don’t remember a thing.”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at oneadayuntilthedayidie.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

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.

The topic this week was LODGE.

We’ve got stories by:

• John
• Jeffrey
• Richard
• Zackmann
• Dionysis Clowes
• Serendipity
• Tom
• Munsi
• Jeff
• Spate
• Tura Brezoianu
• Chelsea
• Lizzie
• Julie
• Danny
• Norval Joe
• Singh – Available in separate post
• Planet Z

The next 100 word stories weekly challenge is on the topic of MONSTER.

Finally, if there are any errors or corrections, please let me know, and I’ll fix them as soon as possible.

JOHN MUSICO

Lost Tooth Returns Home, by John Musico

When we were kids; I tripped and hit my teeth on my brother’s head. Half my front tooth broke off. We searched for my tooth but it was lost. The trauma left me growing up like a jack o lantern and my brother with a permanent knot on his scalp. Years later I got a phone call from him. The lump on his head burst and out came the missing tooth. He mailed it to me. I still wear my long lost tooth around my neck. I’m planning to switch it out with the artificial cap I had eventually gotten.

JEFFREY

Stuck for Words
by Jeffrey Fischer

He felt the words lodge in his throat. “I’m s..s…” was all he could get out.

His girlfriend fumed. Just like him, to gag on a simple apology. Why couldn’t he say he was sorry? She certainly had apologized when she didn’t live up to the standards of two people in love. A little make-up sex from time to time helped, too.

“I’m s…so….” There he went again! Now the guy was getting purple in the face. What a diva! She felt herself starting to get mad. Maybe she needed to rethink her future with him, if this was the way it was going to be.

His head crashed into the table and his body went limp. He didn’t seem to be breathing.

Hmm, she thought. In retrospect, perhaps his gestures *did* look more like a man choking than a man trying to apologize. Live and learn.

The Lodger
by Jeffrey Fischer

Frank looked at the appalling mess around him. Bedclothes were strewn about, paper had been shredded and tossed around the apartment like confetti, and an acrid smell that he couldn’t quite place permeated the room.

Then it came back to him. He had fallen in love at first sight and readily agreed to the suggestion that she spend the night. “Just overnight,” he said. “I’m not looking for a permanent lodger.” After sharing a meal, there was a playful romp. Later, when they were both tuckered out, they fell asleep, snuggling.

Now, in the cold light of day, he wondered if he had done the right thing. The beagle puppy thumped her tail enthusiastically as she looked expectantly at Frank. Probably waiting for more food, he thought. While he waited for his friend to pick up his dog, Frank found that dog urine indeed permanently stained the carpet.

RICHARD

#1 – George’s Story: Part 56 – Board and lodging

Rasputin sneered down at George, “Good! For a moment, I thought you might be trying to leave us.”

George smiled nervously at the giant.

“Actually, I was thinking it was maybe time to move on… if you don’t mind that is?”

Rasputin sneered again: “Is not possible! We stick together – you will lodge here with us – there is strength in numbers.”

George’s frustration mounted – again, he tried to ‘feel the force’ inside him – “But what exactly are you hoping to achieve here?”, he blurted out.

Rasputin smiled: “Simple. We drink tea, and we wait… for the end of the world!”

#2 – Complaints Department

‘Press one to make a purchase; two for payment enquiries; three to lodge a complaint’

I pressed three and was surprised to be put through, almost immediately to a cheerful and sympathetic customer service advisor.

“I’d like to lodge a complaint”, I explained.

“Oh, I’m so sorry – I hope you haven’t been inconvenienced?”

She was very friendly: we ended up chatting for a while – in fact, by the end, we had the stirrings of a beautiful friendship.

To tell the truth, we got on so well it would have been a shame to spoil it by complaining.

So I didn’t!

# 3 – Initiation

The lodge initiation ceremony seemed a little over the top, but I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I went along with it, without comment.

Even when they made me roll up my trouser leg, slipped a noose around my neck and held a knife to my chest, I just closed my eyes and waited for it to all be over.

Things became a little clearer in the bar afterwards, when I asked a fellow member where they kept the vases.

“Oh, we’re the Freemasons,” he said, “I think you want the flower arranging group… they meet next door!”

ZACKMANN

I am so glad that Cliff, I mean Munsi convinced us to have our club’s convention in Muncie. All the votes are in. The change has been approved. I don’t think I like the idea of changing the name of the club to The Order of Munsi and calling everyone Munsi but must ask for help removing the log lodged in my own eye out before I consider taking any sliver out of Munsi Munsi’s eye. New business, someone review contracts with me to see if I can return everything with the The Order of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt letterhead.

DIONYSIS

Hunters

“I remember my mother used to say, every Spring, It’s time for little animals to come out of their ‘lodges.’ Then we’d all go traipsing off through the countryside to see the small mammals coming out of their ‘lodges.’” He stopped whispering and looked at his hands in the murky light of the cellar.

We listened — we always listened now. Nothing. We’d been holed up in there for three days; we’d barely just escaped from somewhere, always, since it started.

Then we heard the pad of tiny feet, a few, then a thousand, scurrying, scratching, and we knew.

SERENDIPITY

For the bullet to lodge where it could cause no damage at all, other than a superficial flesh wound, was not only extraordinary, it was downright annoying!

I could scarcely believe what had happened.

Months of preparation and meticulous planning had gone into this operation, despite which, a complete fluke meant the only damage done amounted to a moment of shocked surprise, followed by a small, and barely noticeable, trickle of blood and a host of secret servicemen running about like maniacs.

I sighed, then shrugged, and proceeded to empty all the remaining bullets in the clip into his chest.

TOM

A Well Defined Relationship Part 48 and 49

“Lord Vader long range scans have detected a bowing in the time-space
fabric.” “Yes, Colonel Lucas, I’ve just now felt a radical shift in the
force. Direct the Death Star to this point in the Delta Quadrant.” When
the sphere came out of hyperspace it was greeted by a single Federation
Starship glowing like the backend of a supernova. “Remove THAT from my
sight.” “Yes Lord Vader.” The Death Star aimed, pulsed and fired.
“Mister Sulu Pike Maneuver, Chekov full power to the shields. Duke a
little help here.”
“Got it pilgrim.”
“Captain, shields at 10,000%” cry the ensign

The boys from the Acorn Lodge arrived in front of the porch with a
collection of ceremonial armaments most hadn’t been fired since the clone
wars. “Better get these all oiled and tested. Don’t want any
self-inflicted wounds,” said Banister. “What are they wearing on their
heads?” ask Timmy. “Those are Acorn Nuts, a rather arcane fastening
device,” said the senator. “Looks pretty stupid.” “Don’t be so quick to
judge, Master Parsons, the member of the Acorn Lodge come from the fifth
highland regiment,” said the doctor. Now it was Timmy’s turn to look
pretty stupid.” “Sorry,” said the boy

MUNSI

My Living Situation

By Christopher Munroe

I’m looking for my fifth apartment of this year.

The first and third evicted me with illegally short notice, without benefit of warning or reason. The second and fourth were friend’s places, where I gratefully crashed while seeking somewhere permanent.

Hopefully five will be the charm, I could use a place to call my own. It’s been too many years since anywhere’s genuinely felt like “home” to me.

But there are times I worry that this is simply my lot in life, to move endlessly from apartment to apartment, never grounded.

Travelling without rest, never settling down.

The Artful Lodger.

JEFF

A Job in a new town

By Jeff Hema

Mom hooked me up with a hotel with bare bones service, but I wouldn’t have needed her help if it were not for the real estate agency’s red tape.

The guy expressed with gravitas that if one document was missing, I wouldn’t have the keys to the apartment.

The first night at the hotel veered onto an acrimonious experience: when I awoke in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, the key was lodged in the door, and there was no phone to contact the owner.

I had to do it in a bowl to relieve myself.

SPATE

Hash – Part 5

The steel bar telegraph went crazy after Davidson’s encounter with Hercules.
Bigger than the daily numbers lottery; this wager was electric. betting on
when they would break Davidson.

Everyone wanted in; even the punks, diaper snipers, and cheese eaters in
protective segregation. The syndicate went into overdrive.

Bets were lodged through the gang heads and the block kings; funneled to The
Reckoner’s personal accountant; who now held book on almost every stamp,
cigarette, fuck mag, and piece of illegal contraband in the joint.

Most of the cons were pulling for Davidson but betting against him. They
knew the odds.

TURA

Lodge
——–
The snowstorm had sprung up unexpectedly during my hike. I could only press on, trying to find a way off the mountain. Every time I fell down, it was harder to get up.

A building loomed out of the blinding snow. A hunting lodge, deserted at this season. With my last strength I found my way inside, and half collapsed in front of the roaring fire.

It seemed odd for there to be a fire going, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep.

They found me before I froze to death, lying in the snow on an empty mountainside.
——–

CHELSEA

Cold

You all know that feeling in the back of your throat that signifies the start of a cold. Telling you that there’s a foreign creature living and breeding inside your body and there’s little you can do now to stop it.

You drink the OJ, take the Cold FX and pray to every deity you can think of to fend off this cold. But in the end you know the truth, this creature has lodged itself inside your body. Set up camp and made you it’s home for the next week, and all you get out of it is misery.

LIZZIE

“You didn’t feel someone pushing you?” asked the surgeon, checking the exams. The strange object had lodged itself near the spine.

“No…” replied the young man. “It hurts… Can you remove it?”

“I’ll try,” said the surgeon.

The young man added hesitantly, “Odd thing… I also hear strange noises…”

The surgeon frowned.

Well, the operation went fine, yet the young man now heard voices.

In his office, the surgeon opened a sphere and typed “Subject intercepted test messages. Receptor fixed,” and added, “Begin countdown.”

Days later, Earth was not Earth anymore. It was a forced labor colony, one of many.

JULIE

Your ex-wife calls me now.

She has heard me read my poems,

She wants to meet for drinks.

Your sister is our sister.

Strangely, I like her.

I wanted to dislike her.

Prettier than I,

Tinier, more fashionable—

She took you from me.

But, we are equally talented.

I forgive her.

Blonde only children, us both.

Both of us, bonded through you.

Equally blonde, evenly matched,

Oddly paired.

And now

That you’ve flown to the wide sky

We remain.

And you, my dear

If you are lodged

In my soul

I guess,

After all this time,

You may stay.

DANNY

There seems to be an overwhelming need for lodges and secret societies in the cartoon world. The Flintstones have the Water Buffalo Lodge. The Simpsons have their secret underground society The Stone Cutters. Even SpongeBob Squarepants got into the act when Squidward tried to join the Lodge of a secret society, until SpongeBob and Patrick got him kicked out. Television popularizing lodges without providing much detail to their purpose or beliefs. These cartoon lodges, all in plain sight for quite some time, but never really talked about. It seems cartoons, like the one percent, are conspiring their evil against us.

NORVAL JOE

Dergle thought he must be dreaming. A stylized image of a dachshund was etched into a brass plate on an ancient oaken door. Inside the windowless lodge all conversations stopped as Dergle stepped onto plush carpet of the smoking room. Thirty men, or more, stared.
Glassy-eyed glares from wiener dog hats perched on each head, doubled the oppressive discomfort.
Dergle cleared his throat, pulled his dachshund hoodie over his head, and said, “I think I belong here.”
The Grand Wienie, himself, adorned in black and tan wiener dog mantle, welcomed Dergle to the Mysterious Order of the Unknown Wiener Dog.

PLANET Z

My favorite Irish pub has one of those posters where a pint of Guinness is lodged in an ostrich’s throat.

There’s a whole series of these posters featuring various zoo animals in various states of thwarting zoo personnel and absconding with the famous beverage.

So, when I planned to rob the payroll safe at the Guinness Brewery, my first idea was to release a variety of zoo animals to distract the staff.

They mauled and killed a lot of the staff.

Served them right. The safes were empty. The bastards had switched to Direct Deposit and wire transfers years ago.