Party Girl

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Another night, another boring party.
Josie walked out into the hall, picked up her cell phone and dialed her answering machine.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
She was already starting to sweat.
Click.
How exciting.
Her message played in her ear. Same message she’d had on there since the day she bought it.
After the beep, she whispered the filthiest, most depraved phone sex message in the history of mankind.
Hanging up, she headed back to the bar.
Drank herself stiff.
When she came to in the morning, there was a message on the machine.
She played it.
Perfect.

Now

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When I visited Karen in the hospital for the last few months, Karen would catch me looking at my watch.
“Am I really so boring to be with?” she’d ask.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s just a habit.”
And I’d take off my watch.
After Karen died, another watch arrived in the mail.
It was Karen’s.
It doesn’t have hands or a battery or anything in it.
Just the word “NOW” written on it.
At first, I found myself looking at it out of habit, but in time, I looked at it to remember.
I haven’t taken it off yet.

Martian Attack

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I’d tell you all about the time I fought the Martians to save the world, but it’s a long story and I don’t have time to tell it right now.
Let’s just say that without me, the humanity would be doomed.
Well, doomed to slavery and genocide under the rule of the Martians.
As opposed to the doom it is facing now.
So, my solution was a bit drastic. But it’s not every day you get to pulverize two planets with a single asteroid strike.
If you look carefully at the sky, you’ll see Mars is gone.
And, soon – us.

Sleep Like A Baby

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I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.
I used to get seven or eight hours of sleep, but now… well, none at all.
While watching television one night – or was it morning – I saw a commercial.
It was for a new sleeping pill. It promised me that I could sleep like a baby.
So, I talked to my doctor, and I started taking the pills.
I’ve been sleeping like a baby. Quite literally, sleeping like a baby.
I wake up three times a night, call my parents on the phone, and cry for no reason.
Oh, and I’m constantly shitting myself.

Pancakes

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The Oracle of Omaha breakfasts at the same diner I go to every day.
There’s always a crowd there because folks are always wanting to ask him for advice.
Me, I’ve never asked him anything.
Why? Because everybody asks the same things over and over.
And nothing about how he’s doing and such. It’s always folks looking to get rich.
So, one day, he gets fed up and tells everyone: “Buy waffles, sell high.”
Weird, huh?
Problem is, the media got hold of this advice, and the entire economy collapsed overnight.
Me, I didn’t fall for it.
I bought pancakes.

Malone

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Word on the street is that Malone is back in town.
Malone’s got a file on him.
It’s a big file. Really big.
Takes up a whole building. Twenty cops working around the clock on that file.
The Feds took an interest in Malone a while back, and they wanted a copy of the file.
We laughed. They came down to see what we were laughing at.
When they saw it, they laughed too, and lost interest in Malone really quick.
Chief says we move on Malone tonight.
Good. We need the building.
It’ll make more room for Casey’s file.

Weekly Challenge #60 – Razor

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Welcome to the Sixtieth 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: Razor.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
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 stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #60?
Chris from Platypus Society
Tom from Footnote Podcast
Guy David of The Sixteenth
Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
Daphne from Going Broke
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
  
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!

CHRIS

After ten years together, Allen and Donna agreed that their love life was getting stale. So they exchanged notes one morning about what they could do for each other to spice things up again.
As instructed, Allen returned that evening with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of champagne and a new pair of silk boxers. He was very excited to see if Donna had done what he asked her to do.
When she met him at the door, her arms were scratched up and bleeding. She smacked him then handed him a razor.
“You shave the damn cat! Freak!”

TOM

My grandfather was a barber. In his basement on Sunnyside Ave. he had a professional barber chair I remember sitting in that chair feet failing to reach the footrest. On the wall was a glass shelf where the tools of his trade rested. Electric Clippers, Silver Plated Scissors, and the Straight Razor. After lathering my neck with the badger-bristle brush grandpa would take his two-foot leather strap and strop the steel blade until the edge glowed in the dark. With the deft skill of a surgeon he scraped stubble from the babyfat of his prodigy nary a drop spilled.

GUY DAVID

The night was sharp, as sharp as razors. The dark tall man stared
into her eyes, eyes that where on fire, alive and young, little red
fire dancing inside. Neither of them talked. Talking through the
razor sharp air was not necessary. They knew there was nothing to
say, but goodbye. He turned to leave, feeling her eyes burn him from
behind. There was no turning back now. The air stiffened, as if
expectant. The man opened the door and left. The razor sharp night
cut him from inside, each step bringing sharp pains into his chest.
“Exit”, he thought.

LAIEANNA

Three fainting women was a disappointment for Magnus’s show. He
dropped the trick hammer and hobbled towards the front of the stage on
a crushed foot. Taking out a bag of razors, he popped them into his
mouth one by one. When on the platform edge, he looked out at his
audience who tried to bury themselves in their chairs. Magnus let the
silence fill their space then raised his hands and bowed. He closed
the show with a bloody thank you and his tongue fell onto a tall man’s
lap. Magnus walked off stage smiling. The shrieks were stupendous.

DAPHNE

He first he noticed his fingers were numb and then he lost sight in one eye. His lost some of his long term memories too. But nothing that really bothered him so he continued blogging and podcasting with great success. Until the day he found himself going off on a rant that related otters and Middle East politics. The coroner said it was like someone took a knife to his brain, but there were no external injuries, must have been the razor sharp wit.

CALEB

LuAnn makes the best sandwiches in town. The trick is that the meat is cut so razor thin you can read through it. That’s not just some colorful expression, she really uses a razor. She spends most of her time between customers just working that leather strop keeping her razor sharp. That allows the meat to go on to your sandwich pink, tender and delicious..
So if LuAnn ever invites you up to lunch, you go, boy. You’ll never have a better meal in all your life. But I’d steer clear of her barbershop… if you know what I mean.blockquote>

Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Creature Infinite in Scope

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Like every creature infinite in scope, God was a bored and lonely being.
He created the universe, then He filled it with all sorts of interesting stuff.
Including us.
What interests Him the most is our capacity for faith and gratitude in the aftermath of a disaster.
Whatever He hurls our way, we come together and seek His guidance.
So, He tests us more. You could even say He tortures us now and then.
But not for His amusement. No, it’s for some kind of reason or plan.
For a creature infinite in scope, shouldn’t He know the answer already?

Ghostwork

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If you have a ghost, my advice to you is to give it a job.
Ghosts can be very useful. And loyal.
A ghost will enjoy walking your dog for you while you’re busy. And they’ll prepare delicious dinner meals while saving you the chore of cleaning up afterwards.
Got landscaping to do? I’ve got one word for you: ghost. There is nothing more reliable than a ghost with a lawnmower and hedge trimmers.
I, for one, have three of them working for me.
Hold on… maybe I meant to say “Mexicans.”
Or Mexican ghosts.
Still, they do excellent work.

Rygar

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Jack?
Oh, Jack! He calls himself “Rygar” now, and he sleeps in his basement under a pile of old towels.
Until… he wakes up… senses… INTRUDER!
“Come on out, Jack,” said his landlord, nervously twiddling his keychain. “We need to talk about you tapping the Smith’s cable line.”
“RYGAR ANGRY!” shouts Jack, and he searches his towel-pile for weapons.
“I’m sure you are,” said the landlord. “We’ll discuss this when you’re ready, okay?”
The landlord sighed and reminded himself that of all his tenants, Jack paid his rent on time.
And in cash.
“Grondar Goldheart happy,” growled the landlord, chuckling.