Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Sixty, 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 Telescope.
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):
Tom
my uncle bunny’s wife was the most exotic member of my father’s family. She had been a ballerina. A statement that had been so self apparent it defied temporal reference. No one knew where or when. You could have as easily said Aunt Aida had been nature itself.
I loved going over to her house for lunch. She made this equally exotic sandwich made from tomatoes lettuce and bacon. She called it a b-l-t. She made it sound like an ancient incarnation. In the German/Irish nomansland where I grew up tomatoes and lettuce were as rare as beluga and borsht.
Lance
The Splornt ship bristled with weapons, all pointed at us. They’d cut off communications, not liking what we had to say, but we weren’t letting them take Planet Bob without a fight.
“Mr. Hansen, set phasers to baconize.” The Captain tried to be clever at these moments. Hansen was new, young. He’d ask.
“Um, ‘baconize’, sir?”
“Baconize, Ensign. That’s what I want the Splornt to look like when we’re done: bacon.”
The silence seemed long. “Phasers to, uh, baconize, sir.”
“Excellent. On my mark.”
The rest of the bridge crew heaved a collective sigh. It could have gone far worse.
Norval Joe
They moved like a living lava flow; a black, brown and liver red wave, oozing and roiling over hills and valleys.
No one knew where they had come from, or how many there actually were; hundreds, maybe thousands.
They were a surge of feral hunger that broke, snarling, whining and growling, onto main street and rushed for the center of town. Vicious razor sharp teeth tore and wickedly strong claws dug at the door to the factory.
It was clear what they had come for; Bonz.
The bacon flavored treats preferred by all dogs, but mysteriously irresistible to wiener dogs.
Anima
The klaxon blasts; the lunch hour is nigh;
My stomach whines of a long gone breakfast.
The fodder I brought only makes me sigh,
300 calories leaves me downcast.
From the corner I smell burgers ablaze,
Hot oil cooking fries by the bushel,
Pools of condiments: ketchup, mayonnaise,
Mountains of salt, nary a thing healthful.
O Beautiful sight! My waitress nears,
Laden with a cheeseburger and bacon.
Drool adorns my chin, from joy I shed tears,
With each tasty bite, my veins do thicken.
No tales to my spouse, tell not my trainer,
Saturated fats are what I live for.
Terrence
My Brother was a TV food addict. That is not to say that he was addicted to TV dinners; he would eat anything he saw on TV.
For the most part there was not a n issue. We kept him away from Science Fiction after an episode of Star Trek sent him looking for Gagh. I cannot even bring myself to talk about the Fear Factor incident.
One day I was in the kitchen getting donuts and making him a Squishy. That was when I heard the statement that made my heart drop and my stomach turn. “Mmmm, bacon wrapped butter.”
Daphne
The cafeteria had their usual Friday Breakfast Buffet. They had pancakes, french toast, scrambled eggs, breakfast burritos, corned beef hash, home fries, sausage links and sausage patties. Everything you could want was there except for bacon. The first time this happened the kitchen staff said they under ordered for the week an were out by Friday. The second time they said they ran out earlier in the morning. This was the third time. It was almost noon by the time the police just had it all under control until the lunch menu went up and BLTs were the sandwich special.
Laurie
What awakened me? The birds circling overhead or the piercing pain. I feel the heavy handcuffs as my eyes scan the surroundings for my backpack. He looked like a surfer and she had an adorable skull with rhinestones on her tight tank-top. People that cute never pick up hitchhikers. Out of the mouth of the tent she advances and sits beside him at the campfire. They whisper their options. Getting rid of me and keeping the stolen money, or turning me in to get the reward. Discussing my fate over Bacon and eggs.
Lynda
When the flu hit, I figured everyone was cannibalizing each other for laughs. Then I caught it and started to change.
Clinics were turning people in, so I went to my ol’ buddy Chivito, he always fixes me up. He gave me something he swore would cure me if I rubbed it all over and wrapped myself in plastic. I joked with him I’d be ready to eat if it didn’t work. I should’ve noticed he was laughing a little too loud, licking his lips, even.
It’s been a week. I smell like bacon.
I hear someone at the door.
Craig
On soft cotton sheets, fresh with spring air, Franny dropped her robe, edging herself onto the bed. With her finger tips she placed warm bacon upon her inner thighs, letting juices dribble to the sheets, letting the grease adherer each slice to her skin. Using her salty fingers Franny massaged the bacon with ice cubes, turning it translucent white, like her skin. Laying back upon the crisp sheets, Franny enjoyed the mingling of odors, the touch of meat. Beckoning me, she softly commanded, “Be my Trojan Horse, make me sizzle, devour me.” I emerged breathless, from the dark corner.
Jeffrey
It is funny the things that you miss when the whole world goes to hell in a hand basket. You would thing you miss things like, your car or maybe your house. Not me, I miss the little things. I miss curling my toes in deep pile carpet, or having shoes so I don’t have to walk on broken glass every time someone goes on a shooting rampage. I miss being able to brush my teeth once in a while. But since the swine flu killed over everything but the pigs I am not missing my bacon. Come here suee
Justin
Timmy loved his dog Lassie. Then Timmy began to understand what Lassie was saying. It wasn’t anything strange, scary, or ominous, it was annoying. A normal day brought incessant yapping about the most ridiculous things like undetectable sounds or smells. It got bad when Lassie smelled bacon. Lassie shouted ‘BACON’ repeatedly and chewed on anything that had come into contact with it. One day during the bacon fest Timmy nearly went insane. When no one was looking he tossed a plate piled with bacon down the well. Lassie dove in. Timmy did not rush to an adult to get help.
Mike P
The squad car pulled up to the stoplight, waiting for the green light.
A biker looked over, an evil grin plastered across his face. “Hey,” he asked his buddies, “do you smell hot dogs?”
“Yeah, I think so. Or maybe bratwurst?”
“You know, I’m pretty sure it’s fried spam,” a third chimed in.
“No, my friends,” the first biker said, “that is the unique scent of scrapple.”
The officer’s hands tightened on the wheel. As the light turned green, he swerved over and gave the bikers a ‘friendly’ nudge into a parked SUV.
It’s never pretty when bacon goes bad.
Guy David
Porky Pig was looking Daffy Duck in the eyes. They have come to a stand still. There was no doubt about it, someone was going to get it, but which one? We set there at the movie theater, enjoying every brilliant frame, every punch-line. At that moment, the sound of an explosion shook the not so silent screen. We waited in amused anticipation for the outcome. We didn’t have to wait long. The figure of Daffy Duck rotating a staffed Porky Pig above the fire appeared out of the smoke. “Looks like we’re having bacon for lunch” he said.
Planet Z
When you arrive in Hell, they tell you why you’re there.
“Oh, I already know,” I said. “Poisoned bacon.”
“That’s how you died,” said The Devil. “Not why you’re here.”
He slid a few photographs across the table.
I already knew what they would show. “Let’s go.”
Hell is a massive iron spike upon which the damned are impaled up through the ass and out the mouth.
You shit in the face of the soul below you, and the one above shits in yours.
Repeat that a few billion times.
Here’s my advice: be good.