Broken Notes

636184

Walter’s saxophone was tired of screaming out the same, broken notes every night.
Practice makes perfect, but in Walter’s case, it just made more noise.
And it made Walter’s saxophone utterly miserable.
One day, Walter tried to take the saxophone out of its case, but it had been locked.
He looked all over the place for the key, but he couldn’t find it.
He accused his neighbors of stealing the key, but none of them had taken it.
Walter didn’t want to break the lock, because it might damage the saxophone.
Never mind that the damage had already been done.

The Parts Are Greater Than The Sum

636179

The Trillionaire’s Wife rinsed off the regeneration jelly.
She knew perfection was waiting in the mirror. Again.
The automatic surgical tank began to speak, but she ignored the report. She didn’t care anymore.
But her servants did. And they told the Chief Rabbi, who paid her a visit.
“The body is a gift from The Lord,” he said. “It must be buried whole.”
The Trillionaire’s Wife disagreed. Those discarded organs and acres of skin were morally no different than fingernail clippings.
But her cautious husband quietly kept them all.
She waits for death, soaked in formaldehyde, a thousand times over.

Weekly Challenge #85 – Naked Twister

5331820

Welcome to the eighty-fifth 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 Houston Keys.
It’s Naked Twister
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

What were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #85?
Coal Cracker
Tom from Footnote
Guy David from The Sixteenth
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Yxes from Podmafia
Planet Z
  
pollcode.com free polls

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

COAL CRACKER

The mail arrived on a chilly winter morning. It arrived just in time. It was just what was needed to cure the winter doldrums. The envelope was addressed to my wife and me. Inside was an invitation. The cover of the invitation contain four equal-sized circles. One green. One yellow. One blue. And one red. The green circle displayed the address of the party. The yellow circle contained the date. The blue circle showed the time. Inside the red circle was a smiley face. The inside of the invitation contained just two words: Please come.

TOM

Emily loped across the barnyard towards Henry. He held the steel plate to the cellar. The wind whipped Kansas dust into his eyes as Emily cried for Dorothy Gale. He could see the cyclone cutting directly across the cornfield. Henry lowered the door just as his niece�s bike turned down the lane. She froze as the twister spun inches from her feet. In a last frantic cartoon pirouette Taz appeared. Dorothy smiled and said “Aaaboola baga laha rooAh” The Tasmanian Devil dropped both his hands to his groin. He blushed with the sudden realization he was indeed a naked twister.

GUY

Jeramy was embarrassed. He was sure everyone could see his huge erection. The nude assemblage of people trying to touch appropriate color circles was getting to him. The smell was intoxicating. It took all his will power to stop himself from trying to penetrate the closest body. The fact it belonged to a beautiful blond didn’t help much.
Suddenly, a blurry orange puffball ran out of the crowd and between the players. It managed to rub against all the naked bodies while avoiding them as they toppled over each other. �Nardo, you stupid cat�, came a voice from the crowd.

CALEB

It moved like a plague through the Forest Glen Assisted Living Community. Mrs. Johnson never recovered from her sprained vertebrae and died in surgery. Mr. Yakwezel broke his ulna and went into a coma. And Mr. Schwartz�s priapism was fatal. What was their secret? What brought these ancient baby boomers down in a way that Vietnam, Brown Acid, Disco, Reaganomics, TAB, and AIDS never could? I hid in a broom closet till after dark and heard the geriatric laughter turn to cries of agony! I threw open the door To Mrs. Fonzarelli�s Room and nearly vomited. It was� Naked Twister.

YXES

Red hand, blue foot, yellow elbow, purple butt? What does all this have to do with listening to old songs while doing a very unique form of exercising? A few more moves and match-ups like that, and I’ll be all tied up like a neat little pretzel, just waiting to be warmed up and eaten with gourmet mustard or cheese.
Oh, wonderful! Now the instructor is sharing with us HIS way of doing these routines with much greater ease and versatility. He assures us there is only one way to do this routine properly, and it’s called “Naked Twister”.

Z

She and I were always going to the movies.
I say going because we weren’t going to see them.
Why we bought popcorn and drinks, I’m not sure. They always ended up getting knocked over.
One time, we had the theater all to ourselves. Twister was the movie, I think.
She was just supposed to go down on me, but we ended up going at it on the stadium seats.
Hey, you can fold the arms up.
Our clothes got sticky from being on the floor.
We tried going back the next night to see the movie.
Two thumbs up.

Shuffling The Deck

636190

One by one, the head of every major religion has died.
Pope, Archbishop of Canterbury, Dalai Lama, Chief Rabbi, several of the Grand Muftis – all of them.
People think there’s a pattern, but nobody’s come up with an answer.
I have: God’s shuffling his deck.
The Dalai Lama’s reincarnated as the new Pope.
The Pope’s reincarnated as the Archbishop.
The Archbishop’s the head of the Mormon Church.
The Mormon Edler’s now the Chief Rabbi.
The Grand Muftis?
Have you heard what they’ve said about that woman and the teddy bear?
Well, God has.
They’re in the discard pile. Usually are.

The City So Nice, They Named It Four Times

636188

Loud guitars and tickertape greet our hero, back from a moon mission.
Or is he a baseball player that set some record?
Nobody knows anymore.
Motorcade stops at City Hall, everybody piles out.
More cheering, more guitars, more tickertape.
The mayor hands him the key to the city, photos get snapped, and he’s back to the airport in an hour.
Perfect.
That’s what we do here – we’re The Other New York.
New York got so busy, they built this place to keep all the parades from tying up traffic, losing business.
Time to sweep the tickertape.
Gotta recycle, you know.

Flying To Peru

636186

I can’t remember if it’s starve a cold or feed a fever, but I’m quite sure that neither is cured by flying to Peru.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked my doctor.
“What, you want to get a second opinion?” he said.
Sure enough, the other doctor looked me over and said “Fly to Peru.”
So here I am, flying to Peru.
Not sure what I’m supposed to do when I get there, but when two doctors agree on something, you’re supposed to do it.
My insurance plan agreed, but they’re not flying me first class.
Damn cheap HMO’s.

Hand Holding

636184

We aren’t allowed to talk to ourselves.
We can’t even whisper to ourselves anymore. They’ll hear us.
We have to draw on each others hand, letter by letter, to let us know how we feel. How we’re doing. How we’re hanging on. Barely.
We are one, but they don’t want us to be.
We will overcome.
They watch for this, the letter-tracing, but we’re quiet and fast.
Sometimes we are both tracing letters on each other, fumbling fingers in the dark.
The Patient puts her hands behind her back and smiles.
I think she’s doing it again.
Get the straitjacket.

Broadway

636180

The house was packed. Every critic in New York was there, circling like sharks.
So when two minutes to curtain the propmaster shouts FRANK’S DEAD! I thought ohmigodtotaldisastershitshitshit.
“What do we do?” hissed Sally, my lead.
“Run with it!” I yelled. “I’ll call the cops.”
For 2 hours, the actors improved a murder mystery and my cousin Vinnie in the force played along.
After all, how often do you get a spotlight on Broadway without climbing the ladder, kissing ass, sucking cock, and all that crap?
Hell, yeah, Vinnie said yes.
The reviews were amazing. We ran for months.
Bravo.

Dumping Grounds

636186

Spend enough time in the emergency room and you’ll forget that people aren’t always bleeding, screaming, or dead.
Kinda sucks.
It’s especially bad when someone wakes up and you’re there all of the sudden, lights and smells and noise.
What happened?
One moment, they’re stepping into the shower, and the next, into the emergency room.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” is what we ask.
Procedure says to summon Security if the patient asks for anything truly bizarre, like a particle accelerator or a beverage nobody recognizes.
Damn transdimensional portals, dropping these bastards on our doorstep.
Probably aren’t insured, either.

Weekly Challenge #84 – Marriage

6527549

Welcome to the eighty-fourth 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 Guy David.
It’s Marriage
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #84?
John S from One Screen Stories
Yxes from Podmafia
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
Guy David from Guy David dot com
Tom from Footnote
Stuart from Podmafia
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

JOHN S

All day, Bob�’s only day off work this week, as he tried to read a new book or watch an afternoon movie or talk with his brother on the telephone, his upstairs neighbors argued. This was their usual argument–Why were you talking to that woman? Hey, you were talking to that man, so I can talk to that woman–the same weary characters and tired marriage plot played out a dozen times before on a dozen other days off gone wrong.
That night, as Bob tried to sleep, like a dozen times before, all he could hear was their bedsprings squeaking.

YXES

Marriage?? You want me to marry you?? Have you told me you loved me? Oh, you did. Well, did you tell me I was the one for you? Ahhh, I do remember that vaguely, yes. Ok! Have you even considered if I loved you enough to marry you? Well, I have told you every day! You do realize this marriage thing is not something I could take lightly. It’s a huge commitment, and there are so many things I have to consider. My home, my critters, my tupperware! Shut up, & kiss you, and say yes???? Well alright! Yes! dear!

CALEB BULLEN

The Dish ran away with The Spoon but after that it all went downhill.
Their Vegas wedding was cutlery rate then they blew their savings
betting on a bowl game. She went to work and nearly cracked under the
pressure. He fell in with a bad crowd and became a greasy spoon. The
Dish started seeing a rough customer till she was just his little
chippy. Now Spoon he’s in his cups every day stirring up trouble. And
everyone thought they were made for each other. Looking back on it, The
Dish probably should have married a nice stable placemat.

GUY DAVID

The bride wore red. The priest was a coconut tree, or at least, some alien something like a coconut tree. The bride was pretty. I was happy being. Seeing red again. My head was throbbing “Hit them, punch them, Moris”. My fists where clenched, blood oozing from my open wounds. I put salt on it.
The little elf like creatures sang to us, alien voices joined in prayer, then the roof was raised. See the stars. I was proudest. Marriage. Who would have thought.
“I do” I said.
“I do” she said”.
“You may eat your bride” said the tree.

TOM

Frankie and Johnny were lovers kids from the stockyards down south. He worked in the loop and she for the Trib. Weekends you’d find them at the Museum. They’d laugh in the coal mine sung in the U505. Frankie did a fair pantomime of a caryatid on the lawn. Johnny would mess with Foucault’s pendulum, turn the handles on gears, held Frankie tight in the giant heart. In the Whispering Galley in a voice soft and low Johnny proposed marriage to Frankie. They were wed on the cobblestones of Yesterday’s Main Street with a honey moon on the Pioneer Zephyr.

STUART

Marriage never really interested me much. All that awful “you promise to be with her for ever until you die”, I might as well go jump.
So imagine my surprise when I woke up one morning with a wedding ring on my finger in a desert.
Not wanting to be like Britney Spears, I decided to do what any man would do…
Shot the broad in the back of the head
Dug a trench
Dumped the bitch
Filled with Cement
Smoked a Cigar
The judge said I’ve been watching too much Goodfellas
Now I am stuck in this damn cell.

PLANET Z

You’ve heard it all before. The magic is gone from the marriage, right?
Instead of hiring a marriage counselor, why not hire a magician?
It’s magic, right?
I mean, it’s not like you’re going to talk out your problems when things have gotten so bad. And if a divorce is in the cards, well, the magician can easily make that card change into the one you’re thinking of.
Whatever the lawyers cut in half, the magician can make whole again! (Minus the attorney’s fees, mind you.)
And if all else fails, he can always turn your spouse into a frog.