Dangerous Catch

636187

We haul in the nets and dump out our catch.
As usual, it’s mostly guitars. Piles and piles of acoustics, with a few electrics here and there.
In the middle of the pile rests one shiny tuba.
Dead or alive, we throw it all back.
“No banjoes,” growls the captain. “Still no banjoes.”
He clomps back into the wheelhouse to light his pipe and scowl for the rest of the trip.
As we prepare the nets for another try, I hear the siren from the Coast Guard.
They’re going to harass us about not having tuba-excluding devices on our nets.

Weekly Challenge #78 – Underpants

8865404

Welcome to the seventy-eighth 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 Elisson.
It’s Underpants
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING
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):

Who had the best stories in Weekly Challenge #78?
Tom of Footnote
Chris Doelle of Riding With The Window Down
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Guy David from Guy David dot com
Paul Snoe NANOWRIMO
Laieanna at Hodgepodge Point
Yxes of Podmafia
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

TOM

The Podcaster returned to the Styx. Burroughs’ back was to the Podcaster he was humming Going to Dance My Way to Heaven with a New Step Everyday.
“Bill,” whispered the Podcaster. Burroughs spun around he was wearing underpants on his head. “Still got that Apple, Kid?” croaked Burroughs. “No, I got this Banana and I’m not afraid to use it!” sneered the Podcaster pointing his herbal weapon at the literary outlaw.
BLAM went the Banana Burroughs fell over deader. He vanished off to dem pearly gates. The Podcaster aptly peeled the Banana and had a bit of his naked lunch.

CHRIS DOELLE

Johnny walked uncomfortably to the front of the classroom, sort of twisting his midsection with each step. His teacher had called him to read his report to the class. Of all the kids in all the classroom, why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be now? Johnny’s heart pounded. The pain was unbearable. His palms broke into a sweat as heavy as the torrent running down his brow. The teacher shushed his classmates as they tittered at his discomfort. It turns out sneaking an iPod into school in his underpants was a pretty bad idea.

GUY

We used to make edible clothing. I don’t know what went wrong. We had strawberry t-shirts, pineapple shoes and chocolate hats. They went off in the millions, no in the billions. Everyone wanted some. A real shopping rush. Then we came out with something brilliant, a line of tofu pants. Everyone wanted them. At least, so they keep telling me at marketing.
I think it’s the tofu underpants. That’s what killed it, you see, in Israel, underpants are considered legitimate pants. Imagine that: a big, fat, hairy guy, going around with nothing but tofu underpants, in the boiling sun.

HOUSTON

Johnny was uncomfortable as his recent change to thongs had some less than desirable effects.
“This dang butt floss is gonna to be the death of me,” he intoned, but fortunately Johnny had a level head he wasn’t about to panic. He would drive the ladies wild with the smooth view of his gluteus through his Wranglers.
Spying his first conquest Johnny bellied up to the bar (literally).
“Hey there little lady, how about you and me make some beautiful music together.”
With a wry smile she looked him up then down, then up again. “Did you bring your banjo?”

ELISSON

There’s nothing makes me want to dance
Like a brand new pair of Underpants.
The blue-haired ladies look askance
When I show off my Underpants.
They’re free of bees and flies and ants.
They’re insect-free, my Underpants.
I’m hypnotized: I’m in a trance.
Those mesmerizing Underpants!
Averse to risk? Why take a chance?
I wear my Safety Underpants.
Their silken fabric draws one’s glance.
Gaze, gaze upon my Underpants.
Like armored Knight with Battle-Lance,
I’m protected in my Underpants.
I dine on animals and plants,
Take meals in my Underpants.
Residing in my lordly manse.
I wear my lordly Underpants.

PAUL

I hated school. The jocks and the pops all kicked me around.
Yeah, I made grades. I’d have a job while they’ed be mechanics and cashiers.
Worthless if my future couldn’t get me a date.
Then the bionic-nuclear-genetic-engineered-automated-techno spider bit me.
I could toss cars! Stop crooks with a finger. Leap over buildings!
But strike fear into crime? No good.
Hooked up with mega-bust gals and mondo-Chin guys.
Nope. No traction. Still no fame, no glory, no… respect.
They told me what to do and I kept refusing.
Then one day I put on my suit.
Then last.
The underpants.

LAIEANNA

I apologize for not contributing to last week’s challenge. Though an
idea came to me, I lost track of time or lost track of my mind and
didn’t finish before the deadline. This week’s challenge should be
easy, but my imagination has been stuck on dull. I was working on a
story at work, but forgot to take it home on Friday. For new
inspiration, I took a jog around the neighborhood in my underpants.
I’ve since been arrested and no one will take my call. Please send
money. Spring me out.

YXES

Ohmygod! You can’t be serious! You want me to say this word out loud, for everyone to hear? Don’t you realize how embarrassed I will be if you make me do this???? I mean, I can say lots of things, but to say this word is like recounting something out one of my worst nightmares! I would much rather say bloomers, knickers, pantaloons, or even panties. I could even manage to say boxers or briefs! I simply won’t say it! You will just have to get some other poor sap to say Underpants! Ohmygod! I said it! Now I’m mortified!

PLANET Z

Ann Coulter wants to make me perfect.
Right-wing temptress, you’re not going to win this one.
She tries and tries, but I resist.
So, last night, she shows up on my doorstep, wearing nothing but a crucifix and that big crocodile-wide smile of hers.
“The things I can do with this, you wouldn’t believe,” she says.
And she wheels through the photos on her iPod, each image sicker than the last.
She stops.
It’s Al Franken, with his underwear on his head, totally blissed out.
Then I realize: he’s still Jewish.
If he can resist, so can I.

The Drummers

636184

The ghostly drummers are the spirits of the dead, a parade of the ancestors of this town.
Out of nothing, they appear from an alleyway, their slow steady beat echoes throughout the city.
Uniforms crisp and bright, they march proudly past their modern progeny.
“That is your grandfather,” whispers a mother to her son.
Ba-ba died before he was born, but still, the grandson waves to his grandfather.
The grandfather does not miss a beat, doesn’t look to the waving child.
He just marches on, keeps his place in line, and they all return to the dust of another alleyway.

iSleep

636178

You can purchase dreams through iTunes now.
Just sync up your pillow through the wireless base station, take the iSleep pills, and in twenty minutes you’ll be asleep and ready to dream the dreams you’ve bought for the night.
One night only, unlike Blockbuster’s dreaming service that gives you five nights.
As if you’d want to dream the same thing five nights in a row.
If you think they’re too expensive, well, Microsoft is still working on their own strategy. And Google’s working on a free service, but it’s sponsored with ads.
Or, you can dream your own pathetic dreams.

Cake

636176

Somewhere, far away in a distant galaxy, there is a planet that is inhabited by a race of intelligent birthday cakes.
If your mother had more skills at the helm of a jump-capable star cruiser instead of in the kitchen, you’ve probably had one or two of these things.
Hunting for the right cake isn’t easy, but not because they’re aggressive or particularly fast.
Finding the right name on the icing is easy. Most cakes are blanks.
Getting the right flavor of cake, that’s the tough part.
Let’s head up to the polar regions for an ice cream cake, okay?

Judge

636177

The judge’s instructions started off simple, but after three hours the jury was utterly confused.
Some of the things the judge asked for them to do weren’t just illegal but downright impossible.
The foreman stood up and tried to interrupt the judge, but the judge didn’t pay him any heed and kept rambling on, getting weirder by the minute.
The foreman looked to the bailiff. The bailiff, having heard this for the better part of a decade, just shrugged and went back to staring blankly.
The stump of his left wrist was a constant, painful reminder not to get involved.

Fail

636176

Doctor Odd watched the mice scurry around the maze, trying to find the source of the scent of cheese.
Unlike other mazes, there was no “center” or “goal” to this one. It was just a series of loops.
And as for the cheese, well, he had smeared the walls and floors of the maze with a cloth containing a cheese scent an hour before.
The mice kept going in circles, and Doctor Odd waited for one to just give up.
Sure enough, the mice were poking their noses through the mesh on top of the maze.
They’d learned to fail.

Blacksmith

636182

Son, I know you want to be a blacksmith, but come over here and take a look at these swords in the display case.
Each and every one of them has a history:
Forged in hellfire.
Slew twenty dragons.
Once owned by a king.
Enchanted by the Grand Mage of the Mountain
The truth is, they’re just ordinary swords.
But the human mind is a strange thing. Give a man a sword, and it’s just a sword. But give him a sword with a history and he fights better.
And he’ll pay for that, too.
Forget blacksmithing. Go into sales.

Weekly Challenge #77 – Tangent

7538957

Welcome to the seventy-seventh 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 Tangent
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
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):

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #77?
Elisson of blog d’Elisson
Guy David from Sixteenth
Tom from Footnote
Paul
Mike from Mike Thinks
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
The Mad Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

ELISSON

Marvin was notorious for his short attention span, but the sun-bronzed toff in front of him at the checkout had firmly captured his interest. And not in a good way.
The George Hamilton lookalike had crammed himself into the express lane with well more than the mandated “Ten Items or Less.” And Marvin, Cashier-of-the-Month, was steamed.
For once, instead of suffering in silence, he let Mr. Hawaiian Tropic have it.
His invective-filled tirade went on for ten minutes, causing its target to slink away shame-faced, ashen.
Years later, the bag-boys reminisced: “Remember when Marvin went off on that tan gent?”

GUY

I would give anything to hear the sound of a tangent, stroking a string. My cell is dark. Light doesn’t like the company of the likes of me. I used to be a prodigy, a master of the clavichord. Now I’m just a shadow, locked in a cell.
They called her Baby Faced Angel. It happened during one of my blackouts. I don’t remember a thing. They say they found one of her hands down the alley, still clutching the string of my old guitar, same guitar I’m loosening the string of right now.
See you on the other side.

TOM

The Podcaster found himself walking in the clouds. He was still clutching a deep fried burrito. The last thing he remembered was the Houston bus, now he was stand next to the pearly gates. “I think there’s a mistake here?” said the Podcaster. Saint Peter looked up and said ” Your right. You are suppose to be at the river Styx with William Burroughs.” He grabbed the burrito and handed him an apple. On arriving in Shell Burroughs yelled “William Tell” and shot the Podcaster. Reappearing in Heaven Saint Peter shook his head muttering “Damn Tangent” handed him a banana.

PAUL

1. I notice a line touching a circle. What’s the word?
2. I work with words day after day….
3. Sometimes I hate work.
4. Well, I don’t really hate anything or anyone.
5. Hate’s easy, but it takes strength of character to forgive.
6. I used to design characters and fonts for some of the first digital printers.
7. Though you have to wonder if everything in life isn’t really digital
when it boils down to it.
8. Boiling ideas down helps me concentrate on the concepts.
9. And when I concentrate hard enough, I can see my progression of thought.
Nine thoughts.
Nine…. Tangents! That’s the word!

MIKE

Theres just something incredibly annoying
about those individuals who find
themselves monologuing, completely oblivious
to distracting tangents. Unwilling even
unable to maintain their focus.
When referring to focus of course
you think of photographs. Here
however, pictures of grandma, no
matter how sentimental, have no
bearing. And yes, we love
grandma, but her house smells
funny. don’t expect to laugh
though. This isn’t Carrottop funny,
this is who ate a dusty
burrito funny. Thats rank!
So lets rank staying on
subject a little higher, and
try to stop obfuscating issues,
instead using trenchant verbiage that
keeps tangents to a minimum.

CALEB

The tan gent’s tangents about the Plantagenets
Were the height of irrelevance on the subject of elephants
But once back on track we knew he was whack
When he told us that elephants sleep on their backs
With their tails in the air and nary a care
Cause they fear the night’s air on their large derrieres
He said the morn’s dew makes the elephants poo
And that thrice in this poo he had lost his left shoe
But I don’t think that poos could have made him lose shoes
It must have been booze
Man this lecture’s a snooze!

MAD BARD Z

My little Laplace Lolita… you can count on Susie Rickenbacker to always get off on a tangent.
No. Really. She has a thing for trigonometry.
Her eyes roll back. Her hand slowly goes under her desk.
When the bell rings, she gets up, smooths her skirt, gathers up her notes, and walks out that door with a little wobble to her step.
She sits on her sweater, so the seat’s never left damp.
She’s going to be a senior this year.
AP Physics. AP Calculus.
May need a little extra tutoring, her advisor says.
Tutoring. That’s what we’ll call it.