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Weekly Challenge #170 – The games we play

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty-Nine, 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… was…. um…
It’s That’s not thunder, it’s….
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):

Guy David

The rules are simple. For every time I touch her, I have to wash three dishes. For every time we kiss, I have to take out the trash free times. For every time I touch one of her nipples, the laundry have to be made three times. It’s a dangerous game, but I play, forever bewitched by my love. Tomorrow, we are going to make love. I can only guess what the consequences would be. If you don’t hear from me by this time tomorrow, please spread my remains across the river and send my undying love for my lady.

Mick Bordet

I have drifted across these prairies and wandered along this trail for so many long, lonely years to no avail, but now that I have found you and can hold you in my arms, I can’t resist falling for your deadly charms. And I wonder how long it will be ’til the day that our love is torn apart by the games that we play.
With your animal instinct and my steel forty five, I am waltzing with werewolves, in love to survive. The full moon will highlight the claws of my bride; waltzing with werewolves, silver by my side.

The clock on the mantlepiece struck midnight as Miss Scarlet entered the lounge through the secret passageway. She froze, her heart in her throat as heavy footsteps passed in the hallway. She knew what she’d seen – or rather, what she hadn’t. The missing candlestick in the conservatory, the body splayed out, dark blood pooling … it was too horrible. As she moved to settle her nerves with a brandy, the looming shadows in the room disclosed her assailant. She shrieked, too late, her suspicions confirmed: Mrs. White, in the Lounge now, poised to strike once more with her bloodied candlestick.

Planet X-Ray

Mike’s lips and tongue traced a moist path from one freckle to another along
Linda’s soft neck and shoulders. As he reached under her loose fitting
peasant blouse, he cupped each of her small but firm and perky breasts in
his hands, messaging them gently.
“How do you like that little girl? You want more?” Mike asked.
A moan of emitted from Linda’s lips as Mike brushed back her pigtails and
softly nibbled on her left ear.
Softly Mike spoke into her ear, “Maybe tomorrow night we can play nurse and
doctor?”
Linda just answered, “Ahhhh… The games we play”.

Lynda

I didn’t mind so much when my family put me in a home because I never liked those
selfish bastards, and once I discovered strip bingo night I was sorry I didn’t
commit myself sooner!
At first it was a little weird, watching my new neighbors struggle to get their
shirts off when their first numbers were called, and I regretted having my cataracts
removed when some of them got close to winning, but then I made a load of new
friends when I yelled that all I needed was an O69.
That old coot Harold Blonksy hasn’t stopped laughing.

Anima

White pawn to dee four.
“I noticed your van double parked– Looks like you could use a hand…”
The classic opening move; Does this sound sincere?
Black pawn to dee five.
“I do have two, but if you are offering assistance…”
Queen’s gambit! This one’s a little sharpie… I like that!
White pawn to cee four.
“I have to run down the street for a few minutes, but I’ve got time to help
you move the rest of those boxes if you can wait. You shouldn’t have to do
all this manual labor alone…”
Will the queen accept or decline?

Ellybean

The fact that there was more liveliness in this place than there had been
for years brought joy to the families of the community so Greta knew her
team was counting on her. This shot could make or break everything they
worked so hard for. Saying a little prayer, she swung by the sweat of her
brow. The ball glided down the smooth surface and strike, she had made the
shot!
Cheers were let out all around! Greta had proudly won. She passed the wii
remote to the next player and a boisterous man declared “Prune juice is on
me!”

Justin

Marcus turned and fled. He dodged a torrent of pulse laser blasts. Dirt
showered everywhere. A boulder exploded near him and red filled his vision.
More zombies rose and Marcus slowed as they grasped at his. Guts flew around
him as zombies were massacred by the hail of beams and rockets. An
increasing number of explosions tossed him clear of the zombies. He headed
towards a knee-high fence and tried to jump it several times unsuccessfully.
A rocket hit him exploding him into giblets.
Marcus shoved the keyboard away, shouting at the screen.
“Stupid game! Let me jump the fence!”

Daniel

I drove my silver 1932 Roadster down to the Boardwalk.
This car is a real panty dropper, but I prefer to pay for the good stuff.
I blew my wad on the hooker and hotel.
Didn’t matter.
Payday was right around the corner.
I cruised around town to Marvin Gardens to get some blow, the good stuff.
Not the third rate shit they cut with baking soda over on Baltic Ave.
Live fast, die young.
I drove the panty dropper toward my house on Pacific to get high and die.
Didn’t see that damn cop until it was too late.

Norval Joe

Kent was excited to be at a party attended by most of the freshman at his small high school.
He was chunky and had complexion problems that facial clensers didn’t begin to clear.
He sat quietly in a group of the most popular kids in his class.
Someone put an empty bottle on the table and gave it a spin. It stopped and pointed at the head cheerleader.
“Truth or dare”, the football captain said.
“Dare,” she replied.
“I dare you to kiss your true love,” he grinned smugly.
She turned and gave Kent the first kiss of his life.

Planet Z

There was only one comic book, and both Bobby and Joey wanted it.
“Noisehair duel,” they said together and nodded.
“First one to cry or bleed loses,” said Joey.
Bobby didn’t cry when he broke his arm. Or his leg.
Joey didn’t cry at his father’s funeral.
They were cold, heartless kids. Numb to the core, the world had destroyed their capacity for tears.
Bobby and Joey passed the tweezers back and forth, the tiny pile of nose hairs growing slowly on the kitchen table.
Joey drew first blood, a tiny trickle of red.
Bobby took the polyethylene bag, smiling.

The Champ

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It is the Fourth Of July.
Thousands of miles from the Coney Island Boardwalk, Hodo blindly crawls on the cracked earth, flies buzzing in and out of his nose.
There is no food.
There is no water.
There is nothing but dirt, flies, and death.
A pack of hyenas catches his scent, and Hodo doesn’t feel them as they tear into his flesh.
Back at Coney Island, the winner of the hot dog eating competition congratulations the runner-up.
They laugh, throw up on each other, and laugh again.
To Hodo, the pool on the ground would have been a banquet.

A whisper in the ivy

639170

I hear a whisper in the ivy.
Is it the wind, blowing through the leaves?
On the ground, in a bed of green, covered with shadows, I see something.
I kneel down to look closer, but there is nothing there.
Another whisper. This time behind me.
And yet another. To my left. To my right.
It is the wind, and it wants to tell me something.
It breathes down my neck, past my arms, through my fingers.
“What is it?” I whisper back. “What do you want to tell me?”
Silence. The wind keeps its secrets, locked in the ivy.

The strange coffee

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Mary watched the last drop of coffee slide out of her cup and on to the floor.
There was a sizzle, then a whiff of steam. The drop of coffee burned through the tile to the basement.
Mary looked at the coffee pot, swirling it carefully. She’d used a free sample she’d received in the mail.
After a moment of panic, she realized it hadn’t burned a hole through her.
She went into the bathroom and checked to make sure.
After she got dressed again, she shrugged and filled another cup.
This time, she added sugar, igniting a massive explosion.

The Flower Goddess

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In her retirement, the Flower Goddess fills her days by arranging the stones in her Zen garden.
“Where are the flowers?” asks a visiting priest.
“In my memory,” she says, and she picks up the rake.
Concentric circles, weaving patterns. Lines without end.
Her sister, the former Goddess of Dance, sits on a bench and watches the sand.
“In my youth, I would have found inspiration from this,” she said. “But instead of useless motion, I merely observe and appreciate the stillness.”
The Flower Goddess nods, and summons afternoon tea.
She plucks hibiscus blooms from memory to boil in it.

The Locksmith

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It’s midnight, and I’ve locked myself out of my house.
I take a pen-knife out of my pocket, cut my palms, and rub my hands together while reciting the chant of The Locksmith.
From the shadows, a robed figure emerges, reaching into a large burlap sack.
His pale hand pokes from the sleeve of his robe, a shiny key in its fingers.
The Locksmith nods and unlocks the door.
“Thank you,” I say, reaching for my wallet.
The Locksmith shakes his head, holds my wrist, and his tongue licks my bloody palm.
“Delicious,” it croaks, and returns to the shadows.

The Brick Hater

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Arthur had an irrational hate for anything made using ancient adobe architecture.
Mud, clay, water, and straw were a recipe for rage in Arthur’s brain, and he’d been arrested many times for smashing at ruddy brown walls with a hammer or smashing bulldozers into them.
His mother sighed and said Arthur’s older brother had covered him with mud and straw, then left him in the sun to bake and harden.
“At least it wasn’t cake,” said the doctor.
“Who the fuck makes houses out of cake?” Arthur’s mother replied.
The doctor stroked his beard and grunted. “I wish I knew.”

Weekly Challenge #169 – That’s not thunder, it’s…

16615765

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

Jeffrey

“I can’t there is just too much noise here, and if it does not stop, ill”
“You’ll what? Come on Jack, get me out,” said the harp “it is just thunder, which is a by product of the electrical discharge between the ground and the clouds you see. The electrical potential of one gets high while the other stays the same, then there is a discharge to even things out. The discharge is so hot it burns up the air and thunder is the sound of air rushing in to fill up the vacuum.”
“But that is not thunder it’s.”

Toni

The city commissioners of Valparaiso met with attorneys today in an executive session closed to the public that for once did not violate Florida’s Sunshine Law. Val-P resident Fred sat next to FWB resident Bob at a bar discussing Valparaiso’s Freedom of Information Act lawsuit against the Air Force regarding the BRAC decision to base F-35’s out of Eglin AFB, and the countersuit against Valparaiso by the city of Fort Walton Beach.
“That wasn’t thunder, was it?” Bob asked.
“No, that was just the Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit detonating a bomb. If it had been the F-35 Lightening II Joint Strike Fighter, Val-P wouldn’t have commissioners or lawyers anymore.” Fred replied.

Dale

That wasn’t thunder.
That was a barrel rumbling rough down a concrete ramp.
That was the surf, two blocks over.
It was march music playing on an old stereo,
the window half-open to the evening air.
It was an explosion, big and slow, off in the anonymous distance.
But it wasn’t thunder.
Thunder would mean rain,
and rain would drive them separately inside, out of the
big dim world, out of the lot beside the basketball court.
And that would mean another day gone, another week nearly gone,
the whole summer, impossibly, nearly gone.
And he still hasn’t kissed her.

Anima

“Bidoc Jackley, you’ve outdone yourself with this roast tapuc. This whole campsite really…. I was dreading trekking with you, you’re normally quite hopeless at roughing it.”
“Thankye, thankye, Dregrin; I’ve decided to improve myself. I’ve been reading this book – It’s called a Boy Scout Manual… I wonder what a boy scout is… I bought it from that crazy wizard Saruman of Isengard. I also picked up cheap this multicolored robe, for Midsummer’s Feast.”
“Aren’t you the Kali hobbit– you’d wear that frilly thing?”
“Did you hear that? I think it’s going to rain…”
“That’s not thunder~ THAT’S A DRAGON!”

Norval Joe

Keith sat behind his mother as she drove the family to the next town.
The rest of the family slept.
Keith said, “Mom. I want to leave the group. I know were a family, but I need to explore what I can do on my own.”
Shirley sighed, “I know Lori has become schizophrenic and Danny is using Meth, but these are all things we can work out.
The was a rumble from the back of the Partridge families patchwork bus.
“Was that thunder?” Shirley asked.
“No, I’m sure it was just Chris again,” Keith said and opened a window.

Lewis

A large rumbling sounded in the corner of the room
Jenny poked her head up and looked around
“What was that?” she asked
Her father turned to her. “It was thunder!”
“That wasn’t thunder;” her mom said from the other room.
She came into the room and gave Jenny’s dad a bad look.
“It was your father farting!”
Jenny went back to drawing with crayons under the end table
Later that night, Jenny’s parents found the paper and put it on the fridge.
Drawn on the paper was Jenny, her mother, and a scribbled brown cloud
of gas named Dad.

Guy David

That wasn’t thunder, that was Thor’s hummer coming down on the bus. The bus, being a patchwork bus just fell apart. “Oh well, last station” said Elvis. The passengers got off what was left of the bus and looked around them, bewildered. Hacker picked his computer and got ready to go. The tin man, being at last free after being embedded in the bus swung his ax and neatly separated each passenger into two parts. “Guess I can finish my coffee now” Said Goergy Ghost. As he drank, the coffee poured through his missing half and stained the concrete floor.

A thunderstorm had been in the forecast all week. The dusty town of Rugby, North Dakota, had almost stopped daring to hope. Two months into a drought, Jim’s garden was suffering, his grass was yellowed and crunched underfoot. Sure enough, Friday’s sky changed, lowering clouds scudding ahead of the stormfront.
In bed that night, Jim reveled in rain against his window, lightning flash and a satisfying crash. At daybreak, however, he saw twisted wreckage of a nearby grain elevator explosion, a pile of grain outside his house. The storm had moved to the south. They’d only caught destructive, galeforce winds.

Justin

The moon barely lit the misty landscape as Marcus drove. *
These country roads wind too much!*
He cranked the wheel to avoid, what, a giant dog? He hit his head when he
ran into the ditch. Groggy, he climbed from the car to see a miniature pony
near a broken fence. Dogs barked, a farmhouse loomed silently. Moans drifted
from the fields. Marcus saw Hungry Dead rising up. He scrambled into the car
and spun wheels uselessly. A zombie bit the pony. It kicked, shattering the
drivers window. The dead cut themselves on shards of glass as they climbed
in.
—
Marcus fumbled with the passenger handle and fell out despite zombies
grabbing at his legs. He ran into the fields. A flash of light lit the sky
and a second later the night boomed. He thought it thunder, but a glance
behind proved him wrong. Plumes of smoke rose from his smoldering car. Half
of a bumper landed beside him as his speed slowed. A few zombies shambled to
their feet near the wreckage. Traces of light punched through them and they
fell into several bleeding chunks. Metal glinted in moonlight as a towering
destroyer bot emerged from the mist.

Lynda

My father loved to tell me bullshit stories during thunderstorms.
His favorite involved dinosaurs stampeding out of a crack in the earth. I guess it was one he’d been told. He was struck by lightning three times.
Years later my uncle explained that the rumble I was freaking out over was from static electricity in the clouds. I calmed down, enjoyed the rest of the barbecue, and fell in love with science.
I told this story to the Dr. Wu when the power went out, and he laughed.
He said, “That wasn’t thunder, that was the dinosaur we cloned, escaping.”

Danny Machal

Little Jacob took cover under his Blankey to hide from the scary noise.
“Dad?” he squeaked out.
Nothing.
A massive boom and crackle forced him to put his hands over his little ears.
‘Just a bad dream. Mom says they can hurt me,’ he thought.
His eyes began to burn and water. Was something on fire?
He left Blankey’s protection and crawled on his knees to see if the
door was hot.
He dropped to the floor at the sound again and wept.
Jacob heard Mommy’s muffled voice, “Go sleep downstairs, that is
disgusting. No more chili night.”

Planet Z

That’s not thunder, it’s just the ambassador smashing his tentacles against the ship’s hull.
I wish he’d use the intercom, but his species isn’t known for tact or sleeping soundly.
I hope the reinforcement patches hold. The hull breach alarm is really loud.
It’ll be the third ambassador we’ve lost this year.
He really should be transported in a water tanker, but he insisted on our cruiser as befitting his rank.
Just like the last two.
We can’t sleep-freeze the squid, so the best we can do is seal things up and…
Red light. Alarm.
This time, you call Earth.

The Leaking Pen

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Freitag’s pen drips and leaks on the paper, making it useless as a writing device.
But if you hold it over the paper and gently dangle it, the droplets of ink spell out messages we believe are from Old Lord Freitag himself.
“I was brutally murdered with my own pen, driven into my heart,” says his spirit through the cursed writing device.
We already know that. His butler confessed to the crime, Freitag’s blood and the pen’s ink fresh on his hands.
That was over two hundred years ago, but Freitag’s ghost hasn’t stopped since.
Here. Have a pencil instead.

Pocket watch

639161

For his three hundredth birthday, Papa Smurf wanted a pocket watch.
So, the Smurfs stole Gargamel’s pocket watch and brought it to him.
“Not only will this not fit in my pocket, but it still has the inscription from Gargamel’s mother in it,” he grumbled.
As smart as Brainy Smurf was, he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the delicate engineering necessary to make a pocket watch, and he went mad from the attempt.
The potion needed to cure him required five tongues of humans.
The tiny blue creatures armed themselves with scimitars and bags, and headed to the village.

Which were the best stories this week?
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Mick from http://someotherscotland.blogspot.com/
	TJ from http://tjaman.libsyn.com/
	Planet X-ray from http://planetxpodcast.com/
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Ellybean
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Daniel from http://dannymachal.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com

Which were the best stories this week?
	Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Toni
	Dale from http://daleinnis.wordpress.com/
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Lewis from http://lewismoten.com/
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com
	TJ from http://tjaman.libsyn.com/
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com/
	Danny from http://dannymachal.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Planet Z

Free polls from Pollhost.com