Space Program

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You know all those monkeys and dogs they shot up into space in the Sixties?
They never told the public the truth about those animals in the space program.
But I will.
Every time they fired up one of those monkeys up into the sky, a dog would come down.
And when they fired a dog into space, back down they’d get a monkey.
Scientists couldn’t explain it. Dogs turned into monkeys and monkeys turned into dogs.
Years later, the Russians revealed that their dogs also turned into monkeys and their monkeys turned into dogs.
They couldn’t explain it either.

Does it snow?

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It never snows in the colony. It never rains, either.
We keep the environment stable. The crops like it that way, and we don’t have to keep clothes around for seasons we don’t have.
Still, every year, kids keep asking about snow and rain they see on the video we brought from Earth.
We’ve tried to shave and blow ice to recreate snow in the refrigeration chambers, but it’s just not the same.
When the kids whine, we show them the live video feed from Earth.
Well, live, as in current. No life there now.
Which is why we’re here.

The Little Muse

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I know a girl who buys notebooks with a watercolor kitten in the corner of each page. She calls the kitten her little muse.
Sometimes, the kitten will take an interest in what she’s writing, romping among the words, chewing on commas, batting the letters around like wadded-up newspaper.
Other times, the kitten curls up on a warm, light sentence for a peaceful nap.
Once, she tore out a page and taped it to another to see if the kittens would play.
They didn’t.
And that’s how I found her body seven hours later, the blood-soaked notebook in her lap.

Pyramid Sam

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Pyramid Sam offers to take us on a tour of Giza for fifty bucks, the most authentic and comprehensive tour around, he says.
That’s way cheaper than the government guides. And he says it’s the most authentic tour, which I’m not sure what he means.
The signs say to only take tours from the government guides, but what’s the harm, right?
So, we follow Sam into his tent, and that’s when he reaches for a set of controls and sends us hurtling into the past.
Outside the tent, Ancient Egypt awaits.
I hope I bought enough batteries and memory sticks.

Weekly Challenge #91 – Clowns

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Welcome to the Ninety-first Weekly Challenge, 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 selected by Planet Z.
It’s Looking Back On 2008
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Who had the best stories in Weekly Challenge #90?
Kelly from Come Let Me Whisper
Duckyfresh from SLCN
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Tom from Footnote
JD from Writing.com
Guy David at Guy David dot com
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Terry the Old Coot
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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

KELLY BURT

Ok what f-ed-up person was the first to think, “Yes, clowns”you know, for the kids.”
Clowns are terrifying–you know, for the adults. I have never been a fan of clowns…I know, what a surprise. Clowns are evil. They are the ones that walk the night in search of victims. People are afraid of things that go bump in the night, but they should be afraid of CLOWNS! They wear make-up and lurk. I hate things that lurk. I know that I must find a way to rid us of these foul creatures. I hope that there is a cure.

DUCKYFRESH

The wise Bart Simpson once said, “Can’t sleep, clowns will eat me.” We laughed at the time; we all thought it was a funny gag because really, clowns won’t eat you in your sleep. That’s not very clown-like behavior at all. I certainly don’t find it amusing one bit to think clowns might creep into your bedroom with fork and knife at the ready, to gobble you up while you slumber peacefully. I am quite certain there is a rule in the Clown Book of Ethics that strictly forbids such nocturnal atrocities. The clowns prefer you awake and screaming anyway.

CALEB

Ever since his last trip to Arkham Asylum the Joker, that one time clown prince of crime decided to go straight. His penchant for wild inventions and gadgetry quickly made him the richest man in all of Gotham. Corporate takeovers proved even more exciting than heists and were so much more profitable. Still, he did wish he could exact vengeance on that meddlesome Batman.
When an accountant notified him of some irregularities in the recent Wayne Corps acquisition, he couldn”t help but smile even wider. Atomic cars? Helicopters? At shareholder expense? Batman was done for.

TOM

I have notice same memories are no longer connect to corporal space. I no longer remember having been at a kiddy clown show. Being the luck child called up to help with a balloon trick. The only latent image in my brain is a 8mm movie shot by my dad. Just as the balloon was growing to amazing lengths the film ran out. The last few seconds of the film turns to a orange red streak and poof I”m and he are gone. I remember being told the clown was Emmett Kelly but it probably was some other 2d clown

JD

Most of the time I love clowns.
The orange hair, large red noses, pants 10 sizes to large, their over size shoes.
They make me laugh until my eyes squirt water like the flowers on their lapels and my voice becomes a croak.
They exhaust me.
This last few weeks I find little to laugh about.
I turn on the TV and there they are.
A full menagerie of clowns, without costumes.
They all say that we, the people, are in trouble and they are the only clowns in town that can fix US.
That’s with a capitol U S

GUY

The clowns came over today. They where just on their way to Kentucky. The big boss knows who to send on an off mission, I mean, no one would suspect a clown. They always get their target and those poor bastards just don’t know what hit them. Was it the little plastic hummer? Maybe it was the pennywhistle? Those are deadly. One note played the right way and all the gray staff comes running out of your ears screaming. Not this time though. This time it was that little electric hand buzzer. Gets them every time. Those clowns are good.

LAIEANNA

Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s all just an act.
Don’t be alarmed to see this clown on his back.
He’ll be up again, clowning about,
And when he does, let’s cheer and shout.
Announced as Potato, the fainting clown,
Known one minute to be up and the next minute down.
Life, he spent quiet and shy wherever he’d dwell.
Career, he was magic except those pesky fainting spells.
You’d think and assume it tough on his heart,
But the clown kept strong from the very start.
What did him in one day in fall,
Was bad trajectory of a human cannonball.

TERRY

In the good old days, people who wanted to become clowns ran away to the circus.
Or so Billy Bob thought the legend went. It was a far cry from reality, now that the city put a bounty on their heads.
The bands of clowns and their midget cars involved in drive-by pie in the face incidents were now a daily happening.
The final straw was the mayor’s wife being targeted as she walked down Main Street.
Billy Bob was more than glad to put his army training to work. The money from the bounty would come in handy,
now with jobs were far and few between. All he needed was one of those incidents to happen.
He knew as soon as he heard the car; he was in luck, who else but clowns would be driving like that.
With a quick click, the safety on his rifle was off. Billy Bob would be dining well tonight.
Clowns, damn those clowns!

PLANET Z

There’s an old joke where a guy who’s suicidally depressed goes into a doctor’s office, tells the doctor he’s always miserable while everybody else is so happy.
He’s tried everything ” pills, booze, sex, intense shock therapy… nothing’s worked.
Doctor thinks a bit, says a famous clown is in town, always brings laughter and joy wherever he performs.
Man says “I am Pagliaci.”
Doctor says “What? No, I’m thinking of Bertoli, not you. I mean, let’s face it ” people are laughing because you’re just so awful.”
Then he gives Pagliacci his theater pass, some Zoloft, and kicks him out the door.

Afraid Of

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Susan was afraid to fly. You couldn’t get her on an airplane, let alone anywhere near the airport.
She’d scream in horror the moment a commercial played on television for an airline.
Her life was an absolute wreck.
Then, she went to the hospital for a special research project they were conducting for people afraid of flying.
And, three weeks later, she was cured of her fear of flying.
However, she slowly but surely became deathly afraid of not flying.
Pretty soon, she had to be suspended from the ground by wires.
Maybe we can change her fear to pancakes.

A Night On The Beach

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I wake up and shake the sand from my shoes. This happens every morning.
But I haven’t been to the beach in years.
Only in my dreams.
Sometimes, there’s driftwood in my hand, seaweed wrapped around my ankle.
Salt in my hair from the ocean spray.
On a shelf over my mirror, I’ve put my seashell collection.
All these things, I dream of. And bring back with me.
When I dream of you, take my hand, and let me bring you back.
I will leave my sadness on the sands of my dreams.
To be washed away with the tide.

Adoption

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Once upon a time, there was a fluffy orange kitty that nobody wanted, so the people at the shelter brought him with them to a television station.
He was so pretty and fluffy, the producer of that newscast begged to take him home with her.
He loved being in a new home, and he played with a dog named Aspen, riding on his back.
When the producer was moving to Los Angeles, he ran out the door and hid under the house.
It took two weeks to get him out from under there, and the producer’s best friend adopted him.

Delays

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Through the tears, the sky glistens like the clouds are coated with glass dust, spread across a smear of powder blue.
Beyond, stars twinkle in the darkness. You can’t see them during the day, but they’re out there, all around us, a snapshot from tens, hundreds, thousands, and millions of years ago as the light tries to get here as fast as it can.
Once, I heard thunder a year after lightning had struck a tree. I was walking past a tree stump when a loud blast shattered the air.
Better late than never, I always say, but enough’s enough.

The Monster Under The Bed

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Every kid has a monster under the bed, but I’m grown up now.
And yet, right under our bed, there’s a monster.
No, not the orange fluffy cat down here. His grabbing at ankles and biting hands trying to pet him are behind him now.
He’s sleeping, or…
The monster under the bed is not knowing what I’ll find when I look under there again.
The monster is my fear.
The monster is his suffering, and not being able to do anything about it.
The monster takes away every good memory, and replaces it with the sadness that is now.