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 Two Hundred and Ninety-Two, 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 PICK TWO!

And we’ve got stories by:

Thomas Pitre
Tura Brezoianu
Tom
Chris Munroe
TJ
Zackmann
Steven the Nuclear Man
Chris the Nuclear Kid
Abernathy
Norval Joe
Danny
Planet Z

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

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Thomas

Theodore Eggabrotten and I went shopping for a nose. Theodore’s was almost gone. Excessive drinking and years of picking kiwis in the hot sun had taken its toll. The mall was open, and as we nosed around, we eventually found our way to the spare body parts store. We asked if there were any noses. The woman looked around and found the last one in a dark, mildewed corner under the counter. She dusted it off and burnished the tip on her apron. It was discolored, so it was marked down. He attached it with Velcro and some MJackson Adhesive.

Timmy’s dead, or was near death, as his body temperature dropped to 45 degrees. Tina had brought the spider with her, and urged the hungry, sepia-colored sac to crawl up Timmy’s nose as they toured the flea market. She almost got her Christmas wish, as Timmy’s life was now on the highway to the dangerzone because of Tina’s vehement compulsion to see him suffer–as she did, during their short, intense, but cruel relationship. The African Cheircanthium spider was stolen from the glass container at the college, and Tina knew the bug’s potential for resolving her “little problem” with Timmy.

Tura

On a Sunday it is pleasant to wander the Flohmarkt, especially among
the Christmas lights. I picked up a faded daguerrotype. It was of
the old Meyerplatz, from before the War. A bright spring morning,
draymen loading their horse-drawn carts, and in the middle, a young
man striding assuredly across the square, a bundle under his arm.

“What do you wish, sir?” asked the stallholder.

The carts rattled and jingled; one of the new trams slowly drew into
the square. And in the fresh cold air, I strode briskly on to my
bachelor lodgings, with bread fresh from the baker’s.

Tom

Jake Conroy had completed his doctorial paper but needed to test his final set of equations. So he walked up to the first people he saw on the corner of 4th and Drucker said “jack conroy sends this forward” and slapped the person on the cheek. Five years later Dr Conroy’s book 45 Degrees of Separation became required reading at Stanford’s Advance Mathematic Institute. Much to his surprise one day he opened his door and saw Mother Theresa standing there sporting a major black eye. “From his holiness to your nose” she said and layed out a brutal right cross

Chris

I made a Christmas wish, for peace on earth.

And there was peace.

So the next day I made another wish, for good will to all.

This too was granted. That’s when my problems began.

I wished every day after that. I couldn’t stop, helpless against the power of my wishes.

The least among us? Cared for.

Equality among all? Achieved.

The world became paradise, but I was in hell, trapped in endless wishing.

Finally, the next Christmas, I wished myself freedom from wishing, and for the previous year to’ve never happened.

So yeah. Sorry, world. Couldn’t handle the compulsion.

TJ

After a few jarring mishaps I’d had what seemed like a run of good luck with Sandra. She was funny and charming and our dates had gone so well I’d almost changed my mind about eMusicalChairs.com. It wasn’t until our third date I noticed how deliberate her exits were. Our fourth date she cut off so sharply I felt compelled to follow her home. Once there I saw through the window… Sandra dressed as a swan, with a beak for a nose. She answered the door. “There were… leftovers,” I said, hesitantly. “Thanks!” she said. “Put ’em on my bill!”

Zackmann

Did you see the Hunger Games last night, set in the Flea Market?
“Highway to the Danger Zone” is their theme song. Timmy should not have sliced Sophias face and taunted “I got your nose” She grabbed a lawn dart and now Timmy is dead. Too bad for Sophia with her compulsion to enter that Sepia colored Lexus. Lexus was likely on her Christmas list. It was 45 degrees. She was likely hoping for a heater not an explosion. I was so against blood sports on television until the reality show writers and producers were forced to became the contestants.

Steven the Nuclear Man

Roger left his office building, gingerly holding the box of leftovers.
His co-workers had left him passed out after the office party,
Post-It labels of “Scrooge” and “Humbug” on his forehead.

That didn’t matter. The ghosts had come. All three, just like
Dickens, though they’d talked about CDOs, short-selling and
unemployment. It wasn’t just numbers anymore – he’d seen the effect
of his trading.

The protesters were still there, despite the cold and snow.

“If you’re hungry, I’ve got food,” he said to the demonstrator laying
on a bench, clutching a crutch.

But he lay unmoving in the December cold.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

> I walk quickly, carefully, cautiously, fearfully. My hunger nagging me as I find a store with food. I stop suddenly and listen. I here groans and gunshots. Just as I turn to leave I here a high pitch scream catches my attention and I go inside.
>
> “Timmy, Sara?!” I exclaimed surprised to find my old friends. I ran to their side, zombies were everywhere.
>
> Timmy’s pouch of bullets fell forwards and he dove after them, right into a zombie that attacked him. The smell of blood attracting the other zombies. Moments later we saw Timmy’s body… and we run.

Abernathy and Sachy

Nora walked through the sea of snow boots and side pony-tails stuck at a Napoleon Dynamite themed party. Gulping down her Liger Martini and listing to Jamiroquai’s “Canned Heat”, she eyes the only other person not dressed like Pedro or a llama and sits down beside him. He turns towards her. “This is the coolest idea, huh? I mean, what could be more fun than a Napoleon Dynamite themed party?!” Finishing off her drink she says coldly. “Anything.” Putting her empty glass down, grabs her cell and sends a text to a friend. “Where the fuck are you?”

Norval Joe

“Why do you love me, William?” she asked.
“‘Do you love me?’ is the question you should be asking me,” he thought as he gazed into her vacant eyes. ” or maybe, ‘Why do you put up with me?'”
This wasn’t the first time she’d asked him that question. In fact, she had asked it every time they’d gone out these last two months.
He had the compulsion to tell her it was the size of her bust or the size of her father’s estate. Would she even get it?
“It’s your nose, Vickie,” he said. “I love your nose.”

Zackmann

Did you see the Hunger Games last night, set in the Flea Market?
“Highway to the Danger Zone” is their theme song. Timmy should not have sliced Sophias face and taunted “I got your nose” She grabbed a lawn dart and now Timmy is dead. Too bad for Sophia with her compulsion to enter that Sepia colored Lexus. Lexus was likely on her Christmas list. It was 45 degrees. She was likely hoping for a heater not an explosion. I was so against blood sports on television until the reality show writers and producers were forced to became the contestants.

Danny Dwyer

Oh my god, you killed Kenny! No, actually I killed Timmy, the lovable South Park character in a wheelchair that least deserved to die. I was fulfilling a Christmas wish to a boy dying from cancer in Jersey City, New Jersey, his name was Jimmy. He was an aspiring handicapped comedian, also on South Park before the cancer. He was supposed to go to Cesar Sinai hospital in NYC, but he didn’t have the health insurance to cover the expense. Instead, Jimmy was sent to a second rate hospital in Jersey City. My Christmas wish? Make health insurance a right.

Planet Z

I admit that whenever I have the need to measure or make a 45 degree angle, the first thing I think to do is ask to borrow your nose.

Sure, a protractor or an angle-guide is a lot more convenient, but your nose is much more convenient, and it’s not like you’d ever forget to bring it with you.

You know, like the tape measure. Or the epipien.

Of course, one must take precautions when making angles with a nose.

Now, I mark the wood with a pencil using your nose as a guide.

(Sorry about the circular saw slipping.)

NOTE: There were reports of a bad upload and the MP3 file getting cut off, so is is a repost of the Weekly Challenge #291 – Drums. Let me know in the comments if it worked for y’all.

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

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Ninety, 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 What is the first thing you see out your window?

And we’ve got stories by:

Jami Titanium
Thomas Pitre
Taralyn Gravois
Tom
Chris Munroe
Tura Brezoianu
Zackmann
Abernathy
Danny
TJ
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.

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Jami

Meri turned her head as the drums beat out the staccato rhythm of her death. She knew the bruises against her pale-skinned face were frightening on her small figure.

Drew was where he said he would be and she looked at him, unblinking. He smiled back though she knew it hurt him to do so. She watched his face through the framework of the guillotine as the drums beat and it was a comfort.

She wondered, suddenly, frantically if her blog would die with her, then dismissed the idea. IT was an idea… and ideas don’t die. Only people do.

Thomas

I was warned I would be drummed out of the club due to my behavior and outbursts during meetings. My father, and his father before him were both drummed out of the Mafia for their excess cruelty. You can imagine the embarrassment our large family suffered.

The final straw was the morning I stormed out of the prayer group, red-faced and streaming a barrage of obscenities at the officers, capping it off with a bold dropping of the pants and exposing my white and plump backside. Ladies fainted and a few leaped for their cell phones to call the police.

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As a boy, I used to swim in irrigation ditches. The result was an ear infection that necessitated the lancing of my ear drum when I was in grade school. They said it was fluid in my middle ear. Since the procedure, I walk with a little hop, skip and slide due to the cacophony of rhythms playing inside my left ear. Folks wonder why I do this little “dance”, and often at such un-opportune moments—such as the funeral of friend, Chuck. His family made quite a fuss over my impromptu dance steps, but it could not be helped.

Taralyn

I remember a time gone by, when I was 10 years old and my family took me to Friendlys. It was a great place that had awesome ice cream and chocolate malts.
I was sitting across the table from my brother who thought it would be funny to shoot his straw wrapper into my hair, which flew over the back of the booth.
Then I heard someone behind me drumming on the table. I looked over the back of the booth just in time to get the wrapper shot back in my face, and hear his Dad yell SIMON, no.

Chris Munro- MUNSI MUNSI!

For his ninth birthday, I bought him a drum kit.

When he opened the box his face lit up. I knew I’d chosen correctly.

As I set it up for him, I explained how much practice it’d take to learn to play really well.

He assured me he was willing to put in the effort.

When my coworkers heard I’d bought such a gift for a child, they thought I was insane. They said I’d never sleep again!

I wasn’t concerned.

He wasn’t my child, after all. He was yours.

So, tell me: Was stealing my parking space worth it?

Tura

Gad, the heat! And the drums, always the drums. The Colonel stood
stiffly on the verandah, in full black leathers and a pink tutu,
because dammit, one had to keep up standards. He rang to summon tea,
then remembered that the native servants had all left weeks before,
when the rains had not come. He looked toward the inert computer in
the corner, its power supply burnt out. Was the network still running
out there, were the others still hanging on? The natives would know.
They always knew. If only he knew what the drums were saying, the
talking drums.

Zackmann

The drums beat softly as we mourn a formerly unknown loss to the world. Although he was secretly buried a decade ago, today we have his reveal. I remember my grandfather participating in The Weekly Challenge. The host vowed to write a hundred word story everyday for the rest of his life but often he did not stopping at one. He loved his cat so much that Nardo was turned into a cybor robot as he aged. Cybor Robot Nardo carried on reading as Lawrence N Simon until yesterday when the drabbles ran dry. Rest in
peace Mister Crap Mariner

Abernathy

Now that Nora was eighteen, it was time to move out on her own. She sat in-front of the wooden trunk under the window of her bedroom. She opened it up, revealing many of her childhood treasures. On top was her beloved tin drummer, she turned him around and wound his key before placing him on the window sill. His little metal arms tapped the drum repeatedly. She smiled and started going through the rest. Each time the toy stopped, she re-wound him. So lost in her childhood memories. Nora never noticed the asteroid that plummeted to earth…destroying everything.

Danny

The army sergeant stared Daryl straight in his beady little eyes and screamed, “I’M GOING TO DRUM YOU RIGHT OUT OF THE ARMY CORPS!” Yes, Daryl deserved to be drummed out of the army, but not for this. It was that fateful night he and his girlfriend Jenny decided to play chicken with oncoming traffic. Daryl pushed Jenny into harms way. Daryl was eventually charged with involuntary manslaughter. Given the option of 15 years prison, or a stint in the army, Daryl chose the army. Yelled at by a sergeant today, a corpse in Afghanistan tomorrow. And the drums beat on.

TJ

So my daughter plays the drums and that’s really why I’m here I mean
I don’t know why I’m here really do any of us really know why
we’re here it’s a completely weird question isn’t it I mean the
question of why we’re here it’s so strange to even think about it I
mean we are, aren’t we? Here, I mean, so we should just enjoy it! But
she’s practicing right now and if mommy doesn’t get out of the house
for a few hours a week on a nice quiet date she’s gonna STRANGLE
someone how’s your wine?

Norval Joe

If he’d realized what a difference it would have made with meeting girls, he would have learned to play the drums.
Of course the first one the girls go after is the lead singer, but he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. The next guy the girls like to chase is the bass player. All he has to do is play four stings and smile.
The band played Stairway to Heaven, and Milo knew there would be no girls clamouring for him at the end of his solo as he picked up his accordian and stepped onto the stage.

Planet Z

The original Thompson machine gun game with a stick magazine that could feed twenty rounds, but it didn’t take long for Oscar Payne to come up with larger sticks and drums for it that could feed up to a hundred.

Why so many rounds?

Because movies were getting longer and longer, and so were car chases. So if you were a gangster hanging off of a sideboard, you needed a lot of ammo to reduce the time spent on reloading.

As film drums got bigger, so did the ammo drums.

Until Hollywood figured out they killed less actors with blanks.