Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Four 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 Hey These Aren’t My Pants!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):
Eva Moon
“Hey these aren’t my pants!”
If you had asked me what my feelings might be, were I in a situation to utter those words, I would never have guessed “delighted.”
But that turned out to be exactly the case. After weeks of stringent dieting, self-denial and exhausting exercise, I was ready to meet my old college boyfriend. But when I went to put on the pencil-thin pants I’d bought just for the occasion, I couldn’t get them over my hips, much less, zipped.
I stood with tears in my eyes until I noticed I’d grabbed my son’s pants by mistake.
Anima
Oi!, these ain’t me trousers!
They’re mine.
You realize, it’s been six weeks since we returned from Scotland.
Think you can start talking normal again?
Lassie, I’m a MacShillysheigh~ a verra proud Highland clan, not to be
trifled with. ‘Ose pants are they?
Whatever.
When I married you, you were Jack Shay. Just because you found some
distant fourth cousins, all of the sudden you’re Braveheart.
Must you wear that ugly orange and purple plaid skirt and fur purse?
IT’S A KILT, SASSENACH!, AND SPORRAN!
Fine, kilt… Just so long as we agree who wears the pants in this family.
Sougent
It was hot in the laundry room, sweat dripped down the face of James
Robert as he labored over the mounds of laundry.
Oh, the indignities he suffered for the cause, he thought, as he surreptitiously made the exchange and left unnoticed.
The next day a man wakes up, puts on his pants but notices something is terribly wrong.
“Hey, these aren’t my pants!”
A confused President Lincoln wanders down the hallway mumbling.
For you see, James Robert, Jim Bob to his friends, was a special agent from the Confederate Psychological Warfare Department.
And that’s….. the rest of the story.
Justin
Sargent Slaughter slammed the magazine into his automatic rifle.
“Corporal Simon, bring my red vest!”
“Yes, Sir!”
The Corporal got the vest then gave it to the Sargent.
“Why do you wear a red vest into battle, sir?”
“So if I get shot, the red will hide the blood, and the soldiers wont lose
morale.”
The Sargent slung the rifle over his shoulder then walked out of the bunker.
The Corporal pointed.
“Private, bring me those pants!”
“Yes, Sir.”
The private brought them over.
“Here you go Corporal Simon, Sir.”
“Hey, these aren’t my pants, I need the brown ones!”
Jeffrey
This morning there was a war between myself and my body. You see my
body didn’t want to get out of bed, I was relentless. In the end I
won the war. However, my body did win some key battles and the loss
inflicted on both sides were severe. There were the normal ones of
course: the cold toes and eyes that will not open, legs that don’t
want to move and fumbling fingers. Then there were the usual ones,
the headache and backaches are new, the razor nicked face. But I did
win, hey wait these aren’t my pants.
Norval Joe
API, New York City
A newly found archive of recordings was found at the former recording site of
Folkway Records. An untitled excerp was found that is beleived to have been recorded
by folk singing legend, Bob Dillon. All that remained of what may have been a
complete, but unreleased song, is:
We laughed a lot, and then we cried,
our love was strong, but then it died,
So, she turned to me like she was in a trance,
and I said to her, “Hey, these aren’t my pants.”
It makes you wonder, what did we really miss out on?
Mary Elizabeth
A week had passed since Krista learned of her husband’s affair, and she
still hadn’t figured out how to confront him. She was hurt and angry, but
wasn’t sure she wanted her marriage to end.
Then out of the blue, a package arrived in the mail. The hotel where Scott
stayed on his last business trip was returning some items he had left
behind. Krista opened the small box and choked back a sob.
“How long has it been going on?” she demanded. Scott didn’t seem to
understand.
A scrap of lace landed in his lap. “These aren’t my panties.”
Ashley
Jeremy stumbled across the road and into a large camellia bush. Once
there, he began to dress in a rush.
Even though he was to marry Maragaret in two weeks, certain decorum was
expected in this small southern town. Her father’s big gun also helped.
Jeremy snatched his pants about half-way up before they stuck. “Hey,
these aren’t my pants,” he exclaimed and snatched them back off. Just
inside the liner was a clearly printed name, Jack Simpson, Margaret’s
first love.
Wondering about his future, Jeremy gazed up at Margaret’s window as a
cold breeze silently began to waft by.
Guy
Dwardlwuff The Troll looked around him in disgust. Those elves sure left their mess around. Ever since the mags had them sign those peace treaties, the trolls had to treat those darn elves nicely and even (oh – the horror), with respect. Dwardlwuff sure missed that amazingly delicious Elves Soup, and those Elves Snacks, oh… those Elves Snacks. Still, those elven maidens where nice, soft and friendly and inter-species copulation was looked at by the mags with enthusiastic approval. The troll started putting back his pants, then shrieked in pain, shock and horror. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” he exclaimed.
Tom
I heard of this competition in Texas, think it was called the Infidelity Olympics or whatever. The contest I remember was the Jump out of bed, pull on your pants, dive out the window. So I headed down to Amarillo and sign up in the novice category. I was doing pretty well until I discover the pants I grabbed had the zipper on the side. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” I yelled just as the judge kicked open the door with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. Out the window I went in my Gloria Vanderbilt’s. Swan to the salt.
Planet Z
It is a tradition to announce promotions by running a soldier’s pants up the flagpole and making them climb the pole to get them back down.
I passed the sergeant’s exam with flying colors and I knew I was getting three bars soon. So when I was shaken awake at 5AM and told GO GET YOUR PANTS I jumped out of bed and ran for the flagpole.
As I climbed, I heard laughter instead of applauds as I reached… the skirt?
My promotion was coming tomorrow. The Commanding Officer’s secretary was getting hers today.
I slid down, angry as hell.