The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Ten, 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 sick.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

Tura
Thomas and his new book!
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Chris Munroe
Serendipity Haven
Logan Berry
Sevi
Bonchance
Guy David
Steven Saus and the books at Amazon!
Zackmann
Red Goddess/TalkMarie
Lizzie Gudkov
Danny
Cliff
Norval Joe
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post…

Obligatory cat photo:

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

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TURA

Zaprut is the oldest city of which we have any record. Only its name survives, for the city was overtaken by a calamity so sudden, and so total, that none survived to say what befell it.

The name became synonymous with disaster, and in Roman times, hearing of some military debacle, senators would angrily declare, “Sic Zaprut!” — “thus was Zaprut!” fearing that Rome itself might pass the same way.

And that is why, nowadays, when a footballer wishes to express the depth of his emotion when his team loses a match, he will profess to being “sick as a parrot”.

THOMAS

I’m sick. My eyes swollen, my ears ring,

I have a rash all over my thing.

When I walk, I stumble, my intestines rumble,

my nose is dripping, I’m constantly tripping.

My chest tight, my bowels are loose,

my guts feel like they’re in a noose.

My breath is stinky, I can’t use my winky.

My livers hard, my spleen is jumpy,

The back of my neck is red and bumpy.

My throat is tight, my teeth are loose,

my tongue tastes like mildewed moose,

No work for me today, but no work, no pay.

Oh, wait,

it’s a Holiday!

CHRIS THE NUCLEAR KID

Winter is Near

I walked and walked occasionally tripping over the immense weaving of roots and scratches covered my arms, legs, and face. It had been about two months when I first started my journey and it was getting colder so I knew it was nearly winter. I kept walking for a while then stopped to rest and eat.

Setting up the tent I had brought with me, I went to sleep. The next morning however, I felt sick. Looking around I noticed it had snowed during the night, which explained why I was feeling sick. Over the night I’d caught a cold.

MUNSI

I’m gonna drop some sick beats.

No, seriously, these beats are the sickest. You ain’t never heard beats this sick.

These beats are so sick the CDC has declared them a class one biohazard, and warned that exposure to them isn’t safe, dog.

The death rate from exposure to these beats is 96%, and they’re airborne, bro!

That’s right, airborne! No body-fluid contact required for transferral of these sick beats!

These beats are the sickest. The sickest!!!

…and unless the United Nations meets my demands, I will drop these beats.

You have been warned. You have twenty-four hours to comply.

SERENDIPITY

This is why you should always proofread your copy! Who’d have thought losing a single letter could cause so much grief?

“WANTED – Slick individuals who won’t take ‘no’ for an answer” – that’s what the ad should have said, but some bozo at the agency dropped the ‘L’ from ‘slick’.

Which is why I’m sifting through résumés with hobbies that include doing rather gruesome things to ducks and; ‘modelling with earwax’.

Then George turned up for his interview…

“So, why should I give you this job, George?”

He opened his jacket, revealing an arsenal of scalpels.

I gave him the job!

LOGAN BERRY

Genvie and Tolly had a contest: who could be the worst, in one week? Genvie kicked things off by parking illegally in a handicap zone at a mall, while she leisurely shopped for a new soft toy for her cat, Stinky. Tolly shared a dorm room with an academic exchange student from Indonesia, whom he made cry by shaving her head she was asleep.

Genvie kept saying she ”could are less” when she meant she ”couldn’t care less”. Tolly drove below the speed limit in busy highway traffic. Genvie painted an abstract picture in shades of yellow, to which she glued golden raisins in a random pattern.

The shellfish in Tolly’s ciopinno was so aggrariously undercooked that seven of his twelve guests were violently ill, and one died. Genvie purchased a shotgun and killed her next door neighbor, Gus, for continually allowing his dog out onto the roof at 6 a.m. on weekday mornings, where he barked and disturbed the neighbors. ”That was really sick,” Tolly admitted to Genvie on visiting day. ”You win.”

SEVI

Sick

Sick…
Of my life
Selected for me
No reason to go on
With the charade
All the lies

Sick…
Of him
His power
The control
Unable to make my own decisions
To live in a free world

Sick…
Of instilled fear
A life full of coercion
Unrelenting rules
No flexibility
To be who I want to be

Sick…
Of the lies
The ongoing propaganda
To be someone I am not
Trying to squeeze into an iron mold
It constrains me

Sick…
Of this world
The Earth
The Wind
The Fire
The Water

I am begging, transcend my soul to heaven.

BONCHANCE

The Car

Dave set out to buy a safe car for his daughter.
He was regretting his purchase.

It had everything on his list and within budget.

His wife followed as he drove the gift to his daughters apartment.
A kid must have been the previous owner, all black inside and out,
black rims, black tinted windows, oversized tailpipe. He only hoped his
daughter wouldn’t think it too hideous to drive.

He parked, stepped to the curb when a passing young man said
“dude sick car!”. He nodded confirming the judgment but
then noticed it was meant as a compliment.

He smiled.

GUY

The yellow acid known as a lemon smashed through my mouth, distributing throughout my body. I should have known that it would contain the virus. I could feel the nanobots working up and down my body, changing it. I knew what was coming. I’ve seen it happen to many of my friends before, too many. My body would change, my memories would fade and I would no longer be. Who knows which terrorist group released the virus. Maybe it wasn’t them. Maybe it was a madman in a basement somewhere. The end result – we are all ending up as trees.

STEVEN

She was sick. Lied about everything- her parents, her past. Did drugs and fucked her lovers in front of the infant. Blew a grand on a drug fueled orgy when we were reconciling.

Her child was sick. It explains the shit smeared on the wall, the threats and violence, the last videotaped assault, the knife and murder plan hidden under his bed.

His second mother was sick. Her father’s abuse, a string of others, the reinfected by the violent child. Gone now – maybe healing, maybe not.

But I see the common factor.

He’s in the mirror.

Time to heal.

TOM

Hello America I’m Morgan Freeman and I’m here this evening at the 100 word challenge at podcasting.is.fullofcrap.com to share with you the tragic tale of Tommy M. Yes dear listeners Tommy appears to be a normal health young man, but lurking under the surface is a silent killer.

Tommy suffers from a terminal case of Objectphela a compulsive drive to attain 100 mid-century objects. This condition is triggered by viewing the Lionsgate production of The Lost Room. Yes see Tommy blankly staring at ebay listings scrolling untill his fingers bleed.

I found the Motorola 17t13

Sad. Give so more may live.

ZACKMANN

I think I got that new mutation of the bird flu. Being the whitest of white boys, I should have seen my doctor when people started complimenting me on my dancing. Good dancing is the first sign of the Disturbed Strain of the bird flu virus. No really, it was on the news and everything. The worst thing was when I started growing feathers.The feelings of hate and anger were no treat. It was bad enough I could not stop physical activity until fainting from exhaustion. You can say that I got up and got down with the sickness.
zackmann

REDGODDESS

Lola was on alert to fight back sneaky germs during the flu season. She stocked on multi-vitamins, ginger roots and cold medications for a month’s worth. She’s been exposed to some sick zombies leaking fluids from everywhere. On the trains, she noticed some couldn’t breathe. While few were always on the brink of sneezing. Others were coughing non-stop in their oversized coats with tissues on the other hand. The rest were too weak to even dry their red droopy eyes. Lola was determined to beat these viruses before plotting and snatching their chance to trap her to a sick bed.

LIZZIE

Hidden in the corner of the attic under piles of dusty newspapers, she noticed a trunk. Inside, amongst old diaries, curls of hair and baby shoes, there was a letter dated 1905. She read through “… dangerous and… are sick. Stay away…. has purple eyes. Do not marry him… become killers…” She was shocked. Who was this person? Above the trunk was an old mirror. She looked up and she understood. The stranger did marry into the family despite the warning letter, because she too had purple eyes and this inexplicable urge that had driven her to a complete solitude.

DANNY

My dog peed on the carpet again! I had just taken him out two times in the past 40 minutes, yet he still pees right on the carpet. I can’t leave the litte monster alone, so I decide to sleep on the floor in an attempt to keep him from peeing on the carpet. Background noise from the television finally lulls me to sleep, the dog nestles beside me. I eventually dream of being trapped at the bottom of a foul, polluted waterfull. I suddenly wake up to a face full of urine from the back end of my dog. Sick.

CLIFF

The Waiting

“The king is dying,” the cry went up.
As my father lay still, all manner of charlatans came to the palace. Shamen and healers plied their craft, but his majesty did not awake. Physicians used leaches. Mystics burned incense. An exorcist cast out demons. Still, Good King Leonard did not stir. All in the land who claimed power over disease took their turn to no avail. All, that is, except the old alchemist up on Watchtower Hill, the one that sold me the poison. When my father finally died and made me king, the old man would receive his reward.

Hey, Mort! Did you hear about Mary’s kid?
What, the trouble maker? What did he do now?
He just came back from the dead, that’s all.
Dead? I didn’t even know he was sick.
He wasn’t sick, you idiot. The Romans crucified him.
Ooh, that’s gotta smart. That’s a tough way to go, ya know?
Doesn’t matter. He ain’t dead no more.
What are you talking about? Dead’s dead.
Nope. Some folks saw him walking around. Said he was going to bring eternal life to everyone.
Thomas, I swear you’ll believe anything. I’m hungry. C’mon. Let’s go find some eggs.

NORVAL JOE

“Some prince you seem to be.” The ranger laughed as he stood over the vomiting elf. “No stomach for the lesser forms of life?”
“Don’t badger his highness, Traveler” Shareeka said. “That trait is one of the reasons we need him along. He’ll feel sick whenever goblins are near.”
“What about Spleen?” Owen asked. “Will the half-goblin still go with us?”
The wizardess chanted some words and the elf climbed shakily to his feet.
“You could have warded the creature before we met,” the prince said, “and saved me the discomfort.”
“Yes,” Shareeka said, controlling a wicked smile. “I know.”

PLANET Z

The comedian Spike Milligan wanted to have his tombstone inscribed with the phrase “I told you I was ill.”

However, despite his fame and stature in society, the church said no. Apparently, they followed the principle of John Waters the filmmaker, who said that he wanted a plain tombstone with just his name because humor ages, and eternity is too long for a joke.

The church and Spike came to a compromise, where the phrase would be added to his tombstone translated into Irish.

John Waters, on the other hand, is still alive, and his pencil-thin mustache remains fabulously rakish.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Ten, 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 Fool.

And we’ve got stories by a lot of people:

Tura
Sevi
Serendipity Haven
Chris Munroe
Lizzie Gudkov
Zackmann
Thomas
Almo
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Steven the Nuclear Man
Tom
Fourworlds
Guy David
Cliff
Danny
Norval Joe
Red Goddess/TalkMarie
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post… imagine they’re like these rocks:

Hurl them through the Interet’s windows… spread the love and welcome and hope!

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter – the more explaining you’ll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

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Tura

In olden times, only the Fool could tell the truth to the King, and not be executed. The King had to seem Wise, but only his Fool was truly Wise.

So Wise did Fools become, that during one disputed succession, the Fool himself was crowned King. And the Fool’s wisdom was seen for the shadow of his betters’, and sat on the throne he was only an ordinary fool.

But those who would be King were satisfied, for now they could plot and scheme without fear of the King’s Fool. And thus have we been ruled by fools ever since.

Sevi

Reflecting back on one’s life
Do you remember…

The silly “boy” crushes of yesteryear
Insane acts of behaviour with strangers
Over indulging, until you begged for forgiveness.

Wild and crazy nights
Only to awake violently shaking your head
Swearing you will never do that again!

How many times can one be so uncool?
Did people gossip about your stunts
Laughing at you over steaming hot coffee chat?

You became the front page news!
Growing older, maybe maturity will cure the insanity
On that sentinel birthday
Enter a life of stability and boredom!
You will never be again that silly fool!

Serendipity

They say a fool and his money are easily parted. The particular fool in question was ‘Rooster’ Arlington; a chicken farmer, not known for his wit.

That’s how Chickensurance Inc. came to be.

It was all legal – proper policy and certificates, and a killer sales pitch – “Look at it this way, Sam, regular livestock insurance won’t cover you for natural disasters… you get a tsunami, earthquake or lightning strike – you lose the lot – with Chickensurence you’re covered! Five bucks investment per bird gives a fifty dollar return.”

Twenty thousand policies – sold!

How was I to know it was twister season?

Zod

I won’t use this prompt as an excuse to do a story about Mr. T.

I’m better than that, and I’ve gone to that well too many times already.

I mean, it’s 2012, does anyone but me even remember Mr. T?

I have the breadth and depth of my creativity to explore, and I can come up with something original and insightful if I work at it.

But it’s hard to resist! Knowing I could turn this prompt into a Mr. T gag so easily makes every word I type agony!

Will nobody take pity on me?

Zod damn it…

Lizzie

“No time to explain! Get in the car!” said the total stranger. “Just get in the car!”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

And he did. He couldn’t believe himself. He did get in the car. They drove for hours to a town called “Hell”. He chuckled. They got out of the car and walked to an old house.

“Come with me.”

And he did. As they entered the house, he could not believe his eyes. It was a massacre. There were people hanging from the ceiling all over the house. The man looked at him.

“Fool, you’re next. It always works!”

Zackmann

In the news of today.
Christopher Moore author of Fool has release a cookbook called Cordon Bleu.
Zombies are blocking the freeway.
Unemployment is at one percent.
Walt Disney company says it is sorry about ACTA, SOPA, and PIPA.
Zombie Jesus waits for you under the spaghetti tree
Wait, Chris Moore’s new book is Sacre Bleu.
There are no known zombies despite how most of you will look on your morning commute.
The economy still sucks
Major corporations are still evil.
and Jesus is still not a zombie.
This is the last time I do a newscast on April first.

Thomas

Little Johnny learned that there is no fool like an old fool when he was in the second grade. The old fool that he knew, intimately, was his grandpa Big Johnny. Big Johnny would spend hours playing catch the thumb while he rocked in his big chair on the porch. He’d put his left thumb up, and try to catch it with his right hand before he tucked his thumb into his fist. He’d do this for hours, and sometimes grandma Minnie would play too, laughing so hard that she leaked when Big Johnny missed ten times in a row.

##

Chuckles played the fool, indulged in buffoonery and acted foolishly. This kept Chuckles out of the military when all his mates were being drafted, and by acting foolish and naïve, he was never punished by his parents or the IRS for making errors on his tax returns. He drooled, stuttered, rolled his eyes, picked his nose in public, passed wind, shop-lifted, cut in line. Playing dumb had many rewards, including qualifying for Pell Grants, weekly groceries at the food bank, and copped feels from his girlfriend, Dione. When caught driving too fast without a license or insurance, he played dumb.

Almo

I was walking through the mall when I saw my ex, Cindy, shopping at Saks. “Is this what my alimony is going for?” I asked as I walked up behind her.

“Who the hell are you?” she said.

“You can’t fool me, Cindy. You can dye your hair and get colored contact lenses, but you can’t erase that tattoo.” I reached under the hem of her skirt to find the rose on her thigh.

That’s when she slapped me, a hard right-hander across the face that left my cheek flushed, mostly from embarrassment.

You see, Cindy is a lefty.

Chris

I wasn’t like most people. My parents died in a fire on my tenth birth day.

When I was eleven I found a chest full of weapons. There were swords, bows, arrows, and armor. I trained day after day until I mastered every weapon in the chest.

When I turned fourteen I was ready to begin my journey. I planned to travel to the nearest village for supplies and perhaps make a friend.

I wasn’t a fool so, I packed large bag with food, clothes, and extra weapons. I slung the bag onto my back, and began my long journey.

Steven

The valley lies before me. Sounds of muskets and dying men echo, bringing the scents of gunpower and blood. I close my eyes on the carnage and wonder if I shall see home and Elizabeth again.

My sergeant’s hand rests upon my shoulder. “Captain, look.”

But I do not need to look. I do not need intelligence from the balloon scouts. I do not need to strain to hear the sound over the din of battle.

I can feel the gargantuan footfalls as the enemy’s steam walkers come over the ridge.

“Goodbye, Elizabeth,” I say, and rejoin the Light Brigade.

Tom

Ok the Universe is cold capricious, and often malicious at it doles out
its share of comic humor upon us semi sentient souls. But somewhere in
that black heart it saw fit to add 5 days to my mother pregnancy. That
tiny adjustment reduced the amount of future ridicule by a whooping 95%.
Its bad enough have a name which rhymes with Salome. If hear that one
again I got an ice pick ready. But to have been born at April Fool’s day
that had future serial killer written all over it. Thank you universe for
throttling your Tomfoolery.

Fourworlds

I used to think of myself as The Fool. Not a fool. The Fool. You know, the Tarot card. I was a long haired lad with a light heart and an untroubled mind; blindly grasping at each passing object of desire; completely oblivious to both the receding chaos in my wake and the approaching chasms I always just missed stepping into.

Decades later, I’m not that guy anymore. I’d hoped to mature eventually into The Magician, but never developed the discipline to get there. I resonate most strongly these days with the Ace of Wands. I can live with that.

Guy

He follows her around like a dog, and Yogerthy Yogurt loved it until he started chasing cars, barking and digging holes, hiding bones in her backyard. She tried throwing a stick into a bottomless well but he climbed out and fetched. She tried driving him to ever increasingly remote locations and accidentally forgetting him there, but he kept returning. Even when she refused his marriage proposal, bone ring and all, he kept coming back wagging his tail. She eventually had to call the dog catchers for him. The guys from the asylum just didn’t have dog food on their menu.

Uncle Monster

I just knew I would find it this time. The day was going perfect and my journey was taking me closer than I had ever been. After a slight deviation, I found my way back on the narrow secluded path leading to that beautiful dream I was reaching for. I walked along with great confidence that I would finally have the wonderful “prize” I sought so feverously! I could see the goal, I moved along quicker than ever and reached the end anticipating my prize, but to my dismay, found only a note that read “April Fools, you missed again!”

Danny

Walking into this putrid establishment, I expected to get the run around by the staff. I first interrogated the hotel clerk. “Don’t lie to me! Tell me, the suspect, is she here?” “Well yes,” the clerk repsonded. “She was here at 3:15, then she left, came back at 3;17, left again, was promptly back at 3:20 to use the bathroom, claiming some emergency. She left again at 3:30, came back at 3:33, hailed a cab, and we have not seen her since. “Bullshit! Do you think I’m a Fool?!!!,” I screamed. “Well, duh,” the clerk responded, “While explaining this, she was able to get away.”

Norval Joe

Owen felt out of place in the tavern, but not because of his age or the alcohol served at the bar. It was the sheer number of people crowded into the dark, smoky, common room. Raised on a farm he’d never seen this many people in his whole life.
“I’d be a fool to say I’ll take you to the mines of Grool,” the ranger said under his breath.
“I didn’t think you’d be afraid of goblins,” Shareeka teased.
“Nay, it’s not what’s in the mines what unnerves me,” Traveler said, “It’s what we must pass through to get there.”

RedGoddess

Rita devoted the last 11 months around executing her dream wedding, with high school sweetheart, Rob. They met on a blind date through friends. It was love by the time the pie a la mode was served after sharing an entree. They rented a one-bedroom apartment in her parents’ neighborhood. They carpooled to work. She was even contemplating quitting her job to be closer to his. Everything was set for her spring wedding on Cape Cod, minutes from the Kennedy compound. After seeing a Blue Man group show, he declared, ” I can’t do it.” She felt like the biggest fool.

Planet Z

Farmer Nedwyn spotted The Traveler walking along Market Road.

“Are you sure it’s him?” the mayor asked.

“Black cloak and cowl, silver staff,” said Nedwyn. “And The Cards were already in his hand.”

The Cards Of Fate.

The mayor sighed. “I hope it’s a good fortune.”

A table and a chair were dragged out of Mossbeard’s Pub and placed in the town square.

All work stopped. A crowd gathered.

The Traveler sat down, dealt out three cards, and turned each over.

Death.

Death.

Death.

The crowd gasped.

“Just kidding, people,” croaked The Traveler, and he got out the real deck.