The Lobster Races

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I’ve got a special treat in store for you.
No, we’re not going to the movies. There’s no good movies out right now.
We’re going to the lobster races tonight!
They take a pair of lobsters and strap them to roller skates.
Then, they roll those roller skates down a street.
First one across the finish line wins. The loser gets eaten.
Okay, so they eat the winner too. Nobody wins this race.
Except for the people who eat the lobsters.
Know who loses the worst?
Me. Because those are my roller skates.
On second thought, let’s see a movie.

The Dead Lawn

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The lawn is dead.
I tried watering, fertilizing, sod patches – you name it, I’ve tried it.
You know how some kooks tell you to play music for plants? Well, I tried that too. I guess those kooks were as kooky as I’d thought.
There’s nothing left of the lawn. It’s all blown to dust.
It’s a shame, because I bought a shiny new lawnmower.
The neighbors come by to borrow it. They expect me to fill it with gas.
Why? What’s the point?
They have lawns. Let them gas it up.
I’ll just sit here, watching Dust Devils graze.

Poseidon

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None of the other Poseidon The Sea Gods at water parks had problems, but then, they were just actors.
The One True Poseidon lay on the couch, shaking.
“The pills aren’t working,” he tells his analyst. “Neptune came out during my act at Sea World again.”
“What happened?” asked Dr. Moggs.
“I speared a kid with my trident. The lawyers are erasing the tape and blaming the kid for leaning on the rail.”
The doctor made notes as the once-mighty sea god moaned in agony, mumbling “Get out of my head” and rocking back and forth like a terrified child.

Taco and Tequila

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I sit at my desk, ignoring the noise, focused on that clock on the wall.
Both hands reach for the sky – It’s noon!
You see, I have found the key to happiness.
Every day, I have a taco and a shot of tequila for lunch. Oh, that sweet simple burn.
Sure, it can be rough on my stomach, but it makes the afternoon just fly by until it’s time to go home.
It’s time to go home? Let’s go home.
My buzz lasts through the bus ride.
Mom asks what I learned today in school.
I smile and say “Bliss.”

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln #92

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Congress, in its infinite wisdom, offered to grant royal powers to Lincoln.
The exhausted president refused them.
“If all earthly power were given to me,” he muttered, “I should not know what to do.”
That evening, he watched as a meteorite streaked across the sky and landed at his feet.
“What have we here?”
In his hands, the glowing green rock pulsed.
Abe smiled as the energy flowed through his body, but his smile quickly faded.
“I still don’t know what to do,” he muttered, sitting down on the back porch.
He went to bed and slept for a week.

Weekly Challenge #134 – That One

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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 That One.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #134?
Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com
Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
Ashley
Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/blog/
Almo
Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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


Justin

Sad Betty crawled down the shelf. She walked across the aisle and stole a knife from a commando. He never paid any attention to her. She slunk back to her spot on the shelf. Beside her was Smiling Sarah. She giggled as the commando waved to her. When no one was looking, Betty pulled Sarah into the shadows.
“OK honey, you wanted a Sarah doll?”
“No mommy, I want that one!”
She pointed to a doll with a face that was slightly crooked. The doll was smiling. Behind, where no one could see, a doll with no face silently cried.

Norval Joe

The retirement home.
The old people sat in the dark and musty recreation room at the retirement home; the only modern thing in there was a wide-screen TV.
“Lets watch ‘I love Lucy’.”
“D’ya think they’ll give us mashed potatoes today?”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear”
“Turn the channel”
“No, I wanna watch this Chirapa thing.”
“It’s been canceled, turn on ‘I love Lucy'”
“Who’s got the remote, go back.”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear.”
“Go back to that Chirapa one.”
“What one?”
“Not that one, turn on ‘I love Lucy’.”
“The Lucy show was canceled, too.”
“I hope they give us mashed potatoes today!”.

Guy David

Chaketo Chirapa wandered amongst the corpses. None survived. That one was contemplative, this one hilarious, that other one his closest friend. He remembered the words of his mother:
“Eat your cereal, little Chaketo. You have a whole world to conquer”
He knew what he had to do. He turned on his communicator. He knew it would take many years for the massage to reach The Chirapa planet, but he could wait. He turned to leave, then hesitated. He turned dials, then he left. Behind him, the song of The Chirapa played one last time, before the underground tunnels sealed forever.

Tom

He kicked the tires, checked the cigarette lighter, adjusted the rearview mirror. The sale staff were unimpressed, that was until the Black Carbon American Express hit the counter, then two guys from the four floor race down to the showroom. “I’ll take that one.” Said the man glancing at the little red corvette. The model was from the year he was born. He was going to drive that car as fast and far as he could. It had always been time = money, now it was money = time. Hodgkin’s lymphoma = fast times fast cars and fast women.

Almo

George drove his truck toward Tom’s Turkey Farm and he thought about how different Thanksgiving was now that Congress had taken the restraints off the food industry. Hormones got the OK. Radiation, no problem.
George parked in the delivery area and wandered the yard. He paused occasionally to pet a bird. A young man came up and asked if George had decided. “Yes,” George said, “That one.”
The man took the bird away to be prepared. Soon after, the heavy steel crane lifted the turkey and the workers just managed to squeeze it into the bed of George’s pickup truck.

Eva Moon

Alma found herself unexpectedly perched atop the cabinet, panting wildly and clinging to the overhead light fixture. Bits of crumbled plaster and acoustic tile littered the floor. She glared down at the doctor.
She’d whacked her toe that morning and the pain had been getting worse all day. She finally made an appointment to have it checked. She told the doctor it was sore, but neither of them had realized quite how sore it was… Until he grasped her right big toe and flexed it.
Now he stood looking up at her in surprise. “Was it that one?” he asked.

Ashley

The transportation onto the pleasure planet Risa came unexpectedly.
Before either of the startled natives could react, he said, “I am James T. Kirk, captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Where are the green women? I need one for … recreation. There,” Kirk said, “I’ll take that one.”
Again, before either of the Risians could speak he stalked over, grasped a tall green hominid and left the room.
“Wasn’t that a self-motile squash that the captain just took,” said the first Risian to the other.
“Yes,” responded his companion, “apparently, great intelligence is not required to captain a Federation Starship.”

Jeffrey

Well it is that time of year a again folks. There is a nip in the air, time to put all the summer equipment away if you have not already. And then there is this.
“So sweetie what did you want?”
“Daddy, I found the one I wanted.”
“Really, which one is that.”
“The one with the red stripes and the pink horn.”
“Really? Don’t you think that one is a bit big for you?”
“Maybe, then how about this one?”
“Well that one is ok I guess.”
“Good, then that is the one I want. I want that one.”

Anima Zabaleta

Yesterday, Bob laughed in the wine shop –
“That one,” the clerk pointed to a Chardonnay/Semillon blend, “goes great with fish.”
“And Chirapa,” giggled Bob.
“How delicious,” he thought, ” Barbeque Chaketo, and a pyre of Chirapa in the tunnels… Chirapa had stolen his beloved Harriet; revenge would be his.

Now, Bob quaffed wine contentedly, listening to the sizzle of roasting flesh…
Was the fire buzzing?
Bob didn’t know, that, like the longleaf pine, Chirapa need fire to begin their alternate form of life.
Chirapa song filled his ears: thousands of alien sporazoa flew from the flames, craving blood…

Mary Elizabeth

“What do you think?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to two.”
“Are you going to decide today?”
“Very funny. I’m still not sure what I want.”
“Just choose one.”
“What if I choose wrong?”
“The world won’t end. How about this one?
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You need to make a decision.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Flip a coin already. We don’t have all day.”
“Let me think.”
“Do you want me to decide for you?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes I can. The waitress is getting annoyed, and I’m hungry. Excuse me, miss. He’ll take that one.”

Planet Z

I stood there, watching the lobsters crawl around the tank, their claws bound with rubber bands to keep them from fighting.
They were oblivious to my presence.
My Blackberry rang and crashed. It’s been having problems dropped calls and lockups.
One lobster was staring at me, tapping the glass with a claw.
It was as if… it was trying to tell me something.
“That one,” I said, pointing at it.
They took it out, and I put the phone by it.
With a few taps of its claw, the phone worked.
No dinner – I hired it as my assistant.

Lasso

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You don’t need a license to carry a lasso.
That’s why I carry one of those instead of a gun.
Guns are aloud and messy. Lassos are a lot friendlier.
But have you ever tried robbing a bank with a lasso?
The teller laughs like you’re crazy.
If you’re robbing a bank with a lasso, you are crazy.
The teller says for me to hold out my hand.
“Why?” I ask. “What for?”
“Just do it,” she says and smiles.
So, I do it, and she puts a penny in my palm.
“That’s for being cute,” she says. “Next!”

Life Hands You Lemons

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When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.
So, I did.
Death handed me lemons, too.
I made lemonade with them.
Karma gave me lemons. More lemonade.
Then, Fate handed me a bag.
“More lemons?” I asked. “Please, not more lemons.”
Fate nodded yes.
So here I am, sitting on an island of lemons in a lake of lemonade.
Instead of a boat to rescue me, everybody’s bringing me lemons.
They ask lemon advice, when to plant, when to pick.
They want me to write a book.
ENOUGH!
If life hands you lemons, yell GET THESE FUCKING LEMONS AWAY FROM ME!

The Rider

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They may be hideous in appearance, but no goblin would be caught being rude.
“Sears,” says the creature. “And your name is?”
The topiary, a shrub groomed to look like a green poodle, said nothing.
“I need to be in Waco by sunrise,” said Sears, and he hopped on the back of the topiary. “Let us ride.”
For all the shouting, the topiary didn’t budge an inch.
The morning dew settles on the goblin’s frozen body, turned to stone by the daylight.
“Who put this ugly thing out here?” said the groundskeeper, knocking the goblin to pieces with a trowel.

The Camp

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I saw him in a bar. He was the bartender.
Turned out he owned the place.
Thirty years ago, he had a gun to my head, laughing as he pulled the trigger.
The gun was empty, the bullets fired at my family.
All dead, there in the middle of the camp.
Here. Now.
I asked for a beer, he put a glass in front of me.
I drank, pulled out a knife, and stabbed him in the chest.
“How’s it feel to die in front of your enemy?” I ask.
He laughed and said “Ask yourself. The beer is poisoned.”