Nose hairs

605017

The chief of the Yil-Doi tribe lays on his buckskin stretcher, facing the stars with lifeless eyes.
His son takes his badge of office, a bag made of woven strings of brightly-colored beads, and places it on his belt.
“I am the new chief now,” he says. “You warned me that I would cry at your passing into the darkness, father, but I have not.”
He is immediately grabbed by two braves.
They place tweezers of antler bone into his nose, pluck out three hairs, and place them in the holy bag.
Tears and snot ran down his aching face.

Foot Fungus

605018

Dr. O’Grady had been seeing the patient for a decade, treating his chronic foot fungus as best as he could.
He never cured it, but it never progressed beyond those two toes, so that was something, right?
The coroner quietly ushered him into the morgue.
“He was your patient, so I thought it best that you see him,” he whispered.
“Why are we whispering?” asked O’Grady.
The coroner pulled up the sheet to reveal a roughly human-shaped glob of deep red fungus.
“I’m not sure he… it is dead,” said the coroner. “And I don’t want to wake it up.”

The Shadow

605017

The groundhog pokes its nose out from its hole.
It sniffs the air and smells death, millions of times over.
Burning ash in all directions.
Was it an asteroid?
Was it a nuclear war?
To the groundhog, it doesn’t know. Or care.
It doesn’t matter whether it sees its shadow or if there will be six more weeks of winter.
There will be plenty to forage on when the burning storm dies down. Plenty of water in cracked pipes and cisterns to drink.
Unless there are survivors.
Then, it will be hunted.
It goes back into its hole to hide.

Clots

605012

The ugly red clots are in my handkerchief, spelling out a message I can’t quite understand yet.
Three months? Four months?
I wad it up, toss it in the sink, and light another cigarette.
No point in quitting now. The clots tell me that clear enough.
Back when they were green or yellow or white, I could read the future.
If I spit them up in your hand, they’d tell your future.
Money. Love. Fame.
I knew it all. And they were always right.
Now, they’re red, and they tell my future.
As much of one there is, I guess.

Weekly Challenge #197 – Whatever you choose…

6650618

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-Seven, 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… was…. um…
It’s Whatever you choose…!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
Justin
Steven
Lewis/Dedric
Anima
Zachmann
TJ
Almo
Norval Joe
JRadimus
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):


Justin

Hey there, please keep that bag behind the counter.
Personal? I wont open it, I promise. It just all these priceless books, people steal them.
No, you don’t look like a thief. I make everyone leave their bags.
Rare occult books? There in the back.
Kitty, stay away from that bag. Shoo cat, stop hissing. Leave that drawstring be!
You’ve opened the bag, oh dear.
Sir! There’s a shoggoth seeping out of your bag, covered with mouths.
Sir, I know you said that, but the cat opened it.
Please sir, control your shoggoth. Store policy, whatever you chew you buy.

Steven

Assholes have destroyed everything I want to say to you.
You’re special to me.
I’ve never felt like this before.
I would do anything for you.
They sound cheesy. They’re all true. But you don’t believe me.
I understand that. I know why you don’t believe me. I know you’ve
been played before. I know they said all those lies to you.
I know.
They confessed.
They’re inside, chained to chairs. Every guy who has ever lied to
you, who has ever hurt you. Here’s the knife. Do whatever you want
to them. You choose. Anything.
Just believe me again.

Lewis/Dedric

A pile of coins were poured out of a small brown bag down on the table.
Johnny looked at them and was silent.
“Well? Are you going to take any?”
Johnny looked up with a confused look on his face.
“Which ones can I have?”
The man gave a chuckle.
“Whatever you choose…”
Johnny started to reach out for the largest coin.
“but not that one!”
Johnny pulled his hand back and started to reach for another large coin.
“Not that one either!”
Johnny sat silently and then threw a dagger into the pirate’s forehead.
I will take them all.

Anima

Daddy gave me good advice when I‘d ask him. When I started investing, he urged “Plastics”. Later, he convinced me to hold off on marrying when I was infatuated with Scott Peterson. He said, “That boy ain’t right in the head”. Daddy nailed that one dead to rights. But when he said, “What ever you choose to make a career in, honey, make sure there is future growth potential”, I don’t think he had a clothing line in mind. After four years in the private sector, Bettina’s Big Boy Boxers is going public. Happily, business is busting at the seams.

Zachmann

When I was young back in the early two thousands they thought that we would never reside on other planets and brass Bikinis were just a sign of dated science fiction but here on our new planet they were a good idea at least in our summer because the planet is fulled with overly aggressive moths that eat any cloth or nonliving animal Hyde. In the winter we take the leather and cotton out of the vaults. Most of the women look great in their brass bikinis and they know it. My brass Lederhosen and brass hat are so styling.

TJ

My director is staring at me. He’s made a note. I’ll be hearing about this move for sure. Stage directions were John crosses to the bar and pours a cocktail, hands it off to Wendy with a flirtatious laugh. We’ve rehearsed it a thousand times. In the dress rehearsal, I get nervous. I trip on my ill-fitting shoes from the costume shop and instead of a flirtatious laugh I drive a stage knife into Wendy’s side. A frenzy of activity, but my wife will survive. And maybe stop sleeping with the director. I pour the cocktail and drink it myself.

Almo

She came to me in the middle of the night, a perfumed cloud slipping her perfect body next to me the way she did in the days before we started having the nightly fights.
The fights would be about jealousy. They would be about money. They would be about time spent, not spent, misspent. They were petty and they were spiteful.
“Would you like to keep fighting, or would you like to make love,” she said, her breath a throaty whisper that aroused me like nothing else.
I thought.
“Whatever you choose,” she said, “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

Norval Joe

“Here you go Johnny, some nice asparagus in brandy sauce. You like asparagus, don’t you?”
Johnny looked at his mother and just shook his head.
“Ok then, here’s some creamed spinach.”
He made a disgusted face and shook his head.
She pointed at the table and said, “You have all this food to choose from, just pick one you like and get on with it.”
He grabbed a handful of beets and threw them at the canvas on the isle. They slid slowly down leaving long red smears.
“Thank you Johnny, that will bring us $1000 at the art gallery.”

JRadimus

He awoke with a groan. “What a night,” he thought. His mind brought him memories through the haze. “Mm, ‘Lacee’.” Through his hangover, he marveled that someone so hot had gone home with him, but he wasn’t about to complain.
He got up without disturbing his impromptu bedmate. As he stumbled toward the bathroom, he tripped on something fabric. It wasn’t silky, lacy or sexy. It was beige, stretchy and utilitarian: Spanx. He scanned the room: push-up bra, falsies, auburn wig. He quickly realized that last night’s “hotness” was not in his bed, but in pieces all over his room.

Planet Z

Leroy’s attorney waved the lawbook. “My client chooses ‘Death by buffalo herd.’”
The judge sighed. “There are no buffalo. Hunted to extinction.”
“Exactly,” grinned the lawyer.
The case was fought well into the Supreme Court.
And, with the help of celebrities and environmentalists, he won.
The legislature closed the loophole, but Leroy was safe.
Or so he thought.
Geneticists extracted DNA from preserved buffalo hides and spliced them with bison to clone and breed them.
Years later, Leroy faced the stampede. “Cruel and unusual punishment!” he shrieked.
“Shouldn’t have chosen it then,” said the judge.

Keep it under your hat

605021

Whenever someone tells me to keep a secret, they tell me to keep it under my hat.
The problem is, there’s only so much room under my hat for everybody’s secrets.
I ask them if I can put it under someone else’s hat, and they tell me no. It needs to be my hat. They trust me and me alone.
Fine.
What if I get a bigger hat? Is that okay?
Yes, they say.
So I trade in my hat for a stovepipe hat.
The rest is history. I became President, and that’s when I really needed to keep secrets.

Money can’t buy you time

605031

Today was a very expensive day.
Nardo was sick this past weekend, and had a few problems with the litterbox, then didn’t eat for a day.
I got him to the vet today.
He needed to go in anyway, being an older cat. You’re supposed to take them in every six months.
They looked him over, took some blood, and said he’s probably fine. Just something he ate.
Yeah, I spent a lot for a tummyache, but then I look at the shelf where Piper, Edloe, and Frisky are.
Boxes of ashes.
Once they’re gone, money can’t buy more time.

The Stained Shirt

605024

After eating a plate of chicken wings, I’ve got barbecue sauce on my shirt.
No, not the shirt I’m wearing. That one’s clean. I have a big napkin tucked into my shirt covering my tie.
The stains are on a shirt in plastic that I just picked up from the cleaners.
How I got barbecue sauce on that shirt and not the one I’m wearing, I don’t know.
The shirt was clean when I picked it up. I never took it out of the plastic.
I take off my clean shirt, put on the stained one, and all is well.

What wine goes with pterodactyl?

605029

I look up at the display on the wall to see that the time machine is back from the ancient past.
Just a few minutes to match atmospheres, and they’ll unload the goods.
The last time, they brought back statues from Atlantis, but this run was for me.
It’s a part of the contract. I fund the research and pay the electric bills, and they keep the kitchen stocked.
Tonight, we dine on roasted pterodactyl.
Not quite like snake, maybe a bit like alligator.
Perhaps we should fry it?
I select a deep red wine from the cellar and grin.

Banana Pancakes

605022

I asked for banana pancakes, but what I got was a plate with pancakes wrapped around unpeeled bananas.
The AutoChef still needs some work.
Sure, it gets simple things like oatmeal, coffee and tea right. Dispensing pre-mixed isn’t a challenge at all. Just inject with the right amount of hot water, shake well, and pour.
But anything beyond basics results in something like this plate of pancake-wrapped bananas or a bowl of toxic mush.
Another thing we’ve got right is the AutoChef’s fragile ego. Insult the food, and it chases you with a cleaver.
No. Really. It’s nice toxic mush.