Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty Eight, 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 Knock Knock.
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):
Planet Z
After years of painstaking research, the dolphin language was finally deciphered.
Nothing but dick and fart jokes. Totally lowbrow humor.
We had hoped for a knock knock joke or two, demonstrating at least a basic level of interactive modality, but dolphins don’t have hands. Or use doors.
Irony is lost on dolphins, and don’t get me started on how they ruin Polock jokes.
Our grant was revoked, our findings buried.
We need a big success to keep from getting fired.
Next week, we start trying to translate Chinese. I’m so sick of having to point at pictures on a menu.
D
Please help me!
A strange man has locked me up in a very small box.
I can fit because I am a midget, but that’s besides the point.
This guy makes me read horrible stories, and if I refuse he feeds me olive
loaf.
Normally he feeds me macguffins with too much baconsalt.
This is not a real 100 word story, this is a cry for help. Please save me
from this man!
Sometimes he calls me names like Two Dogs.
He constantly knocks on the box. Going mad.
Oh, here he comes. Please, I’m begging you, record your stories!
Justin
Danny delved into the cave. Shadows played over the cuneiform letters etched into the walls, his torch flickering. Following the clues on the ancient parchment, he found the door.
He knocked.
The door opened.
A djini appeared.
“Two wishes! Speak carefully.”
Danny considered.
“I want a website template customized to make my website look great and load fast.”
“Done”
The djini produced a laptop to show the results.
“Sweet! Now I would like, a really snappy outfit to wear.”
Danny found wearing nothing but snapping turtles. Screams echoed. The djini laughed and turned, revealing a cracked shell. The door closed.
Danny
Horace adjusted the windage and elevation knobs on the ruby crystal telescopic sight of his 67dm Sniper Rifle. The knocking of the robots steel heart pounded at the drums in his ear.
‘One shot to open the can, another to put the bastard down,’ Horace thought to himself.
It was cold, damn cold. His finger trembled on the trigger as he squeezed. Before the noise of the explosive shot would reach the robot’s sensors, the chest would already be torn open. The second shot would be well on its way to impact before the mechanical systems could respond.
Long live humanity.
Anima
Knock knock knock
I search for the trigger, the one that will reveal the secret passage. Horatio told me of it just before he died. Where is it?
Within lies a chamber where mystics meet in the small hours. Should I gain passage, I can learn wonderous, magnificent things!
Sssh! Do you hear that? Shuffling footsteps behind the walls. They congregate again.
Frantically I search, but to no avail…
“How long has this been going on?”
“Over a year. The death of her uncle unbalanced the girl; All she does now is mutter to herself and rap on the walls.”
Sophie
Knock, knock. “Police open up.”
The door slowly opens.
“Sir, are you Tom Price the owner of the dog in the front yard?” the officer asks.
“Yeah, what about it?” Tom asks.
“We have evidence that you leave her chained without food, water or shelter and occasionally beat her.” states the officer.
“Don’t matter none, she’s my property.” Tom sneers.
“Not any more.” Sheila from the Rescue Society says as she approaches the door. “This dog will be relocated.”
“This is your third strike Mr. Price.” The officer says as he cuffs Tom. “You will be euthanized in 72 hours.”
Michael S
All was going well with our drug deal. I was counting the money when the new kid from Boston I had watching for cops started screaming, “Knock, knock.” Hell, I thought he was telling somebody a joke. Turns out he was saying, ”Narc, narc,” in that special Boston accent. That was years ago and to this day I break out in a cold sweat when I hear a “Knock, Knock” joke.
Lynda
“Why is the sky blue?”
“I don’t know, probably some mysterious cosmic coloring, like eggs.”
“What about eggs?”
“Well, they’re yellow and no one knows why.”
“The chickens know, but we ate them!”
“That’s right sweetie! All beat up with a little mayo! You’re so smart!”
“I got a joke!”
“Let’s hear it!”
“Knock knock!”
“Who’s there?”
“Two dogs fucking!”
“Honey, that’s not really something you should say for another fifteen years at least.”
“YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAY TWO DOGS FUCKING WHO?!”
“Okay, okay…two dogs fucking who?”
“You.”
“Wha–ARGH!”
“You’re silly!”
“Get them off me!”
“I want a puppy!”
Lance
Knock, knock.
“Trick or treat!”
“Well, aren’t you the cutest little fairytale princess. Here you go, darling. Happy Halloween!”
“Thank you!”
Knock, knock.
“Trick or treat! Arrr!”
“Well, shiver me timbers! ‘Tis a fearsome pirate an’ no mistake. Here be yer booty, ye scurvy dog.”
“Arrr. Thankee! An’ a Happy Halloween to ye, me hearty!”
Knock, knock.
“Braaaaaaains.”
“Wow. That is absolutely the best zombie makeup I’ve ever seen. How many hours did you have to sit still to look like that?”
“Braaaaaaains?”
“Sure, I understand. You’ve gotta stay in character.”
The zombie uprising began under the cover of Halloween.
Elisson
“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“The Interrupting Pirate.”
“The Interrup…”
“Arrrrrrhhh!”
This joke used to crack us up when we were kids. Timing was everything.
I wasn’t laughing right now, though. Somali pirates were attacking our ship. The crackle of small-arms fire filled the air as the Somalis prepared to board.
The usual game. Hold us hostage, collect the ransom, move on. Insurance would pay the owners.
Not this time. As the pirates strode confidently on deck, laughing, Charlie interrupted them with the M134 Minigun, which promptly converted them into piles of gristle amidst pools of blood.
Yep: Timing is everything.
Guy David
Janice was a practical joker. The number of times we had to ask her “who’s there?” was ridiculous. We tried to stay away, but she would follow us, never understanding the hint. When they fired her, we all cheered. It was later that we read about it in the papers. She jumped off some bridge or another. Now she wonders the office floor telling her knock knock jokes. If someone refuses to play along, he suffers dire consequences. Only five of us are left. Here she comes. Let me utter the magic words that would keep us alive: “Who’s there?”
Tom
Knock Knock
“Hey kids what’s that sound?”
asks Snowball the clown.
“It two dogs …”
Ringmaster Fred quickly steps in cutting off Old Captain Billy before t slips out into the 2 million plus new York jersey TV market.
“Yes kids it seem the Captain as been sipping a little to much of his oj this morning.”
“Frack the kids” snorts Captain Billy
“The joke is in the Whiz bang you morons”
High above the sound stage in the control booth Mr. T Whitesides founder f Baby Bottom Soap is not happy.
“Fire that fucking clown” he yells
Ishtar
“Lock the door he’s almost broken through” Yells Clyde slowly shaking in
fear. His ultimate end was just around the corner.
Oh sure it was a harmless prank. No one really liked the new guy in town.
So round in the middle. Those horrid looking red boots he always wears.
Who would think he would go so far. Just for spray painting Puc Man
on his mail box shouldn’t cause this.
“Knock Knock Knock, I know it was you Clyde. Look at what I did
to Inky and Blinky. Yum Yum Yum. Your next. No one Fucks with
Pac Man.”
Manata
Amnesia is a bitch. Ever since the accident I can’t even remember who I am. It makes my life a living hell. The truth is, if one more person asks me my name, I’ll probably snap.
The only way I can deal with it is to stay high. I get my drugs at this speakeasy near my house. The only problem is the password. I bite my lip, approach the door, and whisper the code: “Knock knock”.
“Who’s there?” came the reply.
That’s it – the last straw.
I scream, “I DON’T KNOW! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! I DON’T KNOW!”
Norval Joe
He rapped the back of his hand against the rough wooden plank, his knuckles making more of a sharp tapping sound since the flesh had worn away from the bones.
Knock, knock. The sound was faint through the thin layer of dirt hastily thrown over the wooden box.
Unable to call out, the muscles of his chest were too week to draw breath into throat and lungs clogged with maggots and worms.
Dead and animated, he didn’t think; he only hungered. He hungered to be free from this wooden box. He hungered for revenge against those who put him here.
Melissa
I could see it. Our lives, our future, coming up so fast, I couldn’t catch my breath; I felt the pang of need for oxygen in my lungs! There she was I couldn’t and wouldn’t move, I was entranced. Our destinies were intertwined and the heat was creeping up my back into my shoulders in my ears. I was capturing the butterfly and….
“‘KNOCK KNOCK! Sam are you listening to me?’” came the shrieking sound of Leila’s voice, my band mate from hell. Not even the sound of a derailing train could muffle the searing sound of her voice