The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty One, 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 What would Gandhi do?.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #151?
	Lance from http://writingdad.livejournal.com
	Ishtar
	Ashley
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com/
	Caleb from http://blacktiemartiniclub.com
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com/
	Elisson from http://elisson1.blogspot.com
	Norval Joe from http://norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com
	Daniel from http://dannymachal.com
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Ishtar

The release of dreams is a powerful thing.
In her sleep she can see the truth before her eyes. Light
is sweeter, the air is cleaner. She is free. Able to live the life
she should have been. The body she should have felt.
It always starts like this. Though the night joy has become real.
But it has to end. The Darkness Begins.
She is standing on an edge. Real life takes her back.
Never can she be real. Her body screams. Eyes awaken to her
true form. Male or Female or Both.
Is she Transgender or something more.

Lance

I’ve tried to live my life according to the dictates of the prophet, but it’s a different world than the one he grew up in and I sometimes wonder what he’d make of it. Between the rogue AIs, the gengineered plagues, and the hairdressers’ militia, pacifism has had a rough go in the last few years.
But I have tried. I’ve tried very hard.
Still, when the horde of mutant zombies came shambling through my normally quiet neighbourhood this morning, I opened fire along with everyone else. Non-violent? Well, not exactly, but what do you think Ghandi would have done?

Ashley

Randy asked, “Would Gandhi do this?”
“Who the hell’s that,” responded Jerry?
“He was this wise religious leader in India.”
“Well, he’s not here now. Even if he was, he could still bite my ass. I don’t care, I’m doin it.”
Jerry leapt atop the cab of the truck and began surfing as they barreled down the dirt road leaving behind a huge dust storm. Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes and over the hood went Jerry head first.
Everyone in the truck roared with laughter.
“Unless Gandhi drank alot, I know he wouldn’t have done that, “howled Randy.

Guy David

I named my monkey Gandhi because of his habit of turning the other cheek. Other monkeys would charge at him, attack him but he would just stand there smiling his little monkey smile, holding his hand out to them. Eventually, they just tore him to pieces. I still miss the little fellow. Sometimes, when things go crazy at work, I think to myself “What would my little Gandhi do?”, then I remember how he ended up and I just eliminate my fellow hairless white monkeys. I use presentations and flow charts, but it amounts to the same. No one survives.

Caleb

There were puppets of puppies on the parapet
Where the two toucan armies boldly met
And the general said aloud
Through a cotton candy cloud
Upon the fury of his forces, he was sure to bet.
Freely flying down there came a cockatoo
Whose flapping fluttered feathers all were painted blue
He asked those lousy leaders what would Ghandi do
The avians abated while the moon arose
And peacefully they pondered what Ghandi would’ve chose
And as the last blue light of day blissfully floated away
Those warring tribes, they did decide, to fight each other anyway.
Toucans are schmucks.9

Lynda

I love Ben Kingsley SO much. He made me appreciate that Gandhi guy and what he did for the world and all. I mean, I learned more about Gandhi from that movie than I ever learned in whatever that class was I took with Chelsea, back when we were first learning to text.
Ben Kingsley had me arrested after I jumped out of his shower to ask why he had all those men shooting at Robert Redford in Sneakers when Robert Redford just wants to save the arctic.
I’m not mad, though, I think Gandhi wouldn’t be mad, I guess.

Anima

What would Gandhi do, if he came face to face with a dragon, armed only with a boy scout manual and a piñata costume?
Please so kind as to light the fire for our tea.
There should be twigs, I know, but all I have is this book.
Do you like it? The colours are a bit gaudy, but my dhoti is at the cleaners. And I had nothing else to wear.
My opinion of the British? Their behaviour to both dragons and Indians is loutish.
Struck a nerve, have I? It appears you have set the woods on fire.

Elisson

He had lived for years as an ascetic, simultaneously carving out a place for himself in history as a politician-philosopher, proponent of Satyagraha.
Satyagraha. It was oxymoronic, this concept of nonviolent resistance. Oxymoronic but effective. The British Raj was finished.
He fingered his homespun loincloth, deep in contemplation. Is this how I want to be remembered? A wizened little man in a fucking diaper? What about my dream of being in a Bollywood musical? I can cut a rug with the best of ’em… even if it’s an Oriental rug!
Two weeks later, the Gandhi Dancers made their historic debut.

Norval Joe

The president of the United Federation of Callisto watched the invading fleet from Ganymede landing their ships on the fragile surface of his moon. They were here to enslave more of his people; unwary farmers in the upper tunnels were the likely victims. Their common ancestors came from Earth 500 million years ago; libraries deep within Callisto’s tunnel system held records of their histories. Ganymede must not know of Earth’s ancient social reforms; or not care. Soon, he must make a decision; continued non-violent civil disobedience or military retaliation. He re-read the launch protocol to initiate an inter-moon nuclear assault.
How about…It oozed down…

Tom

A Russian professor, a Hindi businessman, and an American politician walk into a bar. Each has paid a inordinate amount of cash for an artifact belonging to their hero to compete in a high stakes competition. The bartender turns to the Russian asks “What would Lenin do?” The professor takes out the pen writes out a manifesto.” The bartender turns to the Hindi asks “What would Gandhi do?” The businessman places spectacles on this noses and gets his Satyagraha on. Suddenly the American appears a bit worried. “What’s with Dick Cheney?” asks the Hindi. “Oh he’s got George Washington’s catheter.”

Justin

Greg sat in the bunker. His real name was Ghandi. He hated having that name. Let’s see the real Ghandi passively resist the onslaught of robots and their flailing … an idea struck.
Resistors were installed on the power grid. Human devices didn’t draw anywhere as much energy as the robots did, and the robots range is limited by the energy grid. Surgical strikes made regions of blackouts surrounding the human bases. The robots were lured by the powered bases, but going through the blackouts drained them. The resistors prevented them recharging. That’s when the resistance became anything but passive.

Daniel

I hate it when they write checks for the littlest things. I would gladly pay with my own cash if it got this damn line moving. You know the type. Eighty year old woman who buys chewing gum on Super Bowl Sunday an hour before kick off, always has the audacity to write a fucking check. This broad is probably going to break her hip in the parking lot, what does she care about Doublemint Wrigleys? Even Gandhi would lay her out cold. One good bash to the head with her own cane should do it. The only difference between Gandhi, and me? I wouldn’t kick my own ass after.

Planet Z

Yus! The question was never “What would Gandhi Do?” but instead “What wouldn’t Gandhi do?”
I have movie reels in my closet the Crown took when they were assassinating that saw-ed off rabblerouser’s character.
He was a hero to millions and his name, golden, but boy did he like to use his bullwhip.
Elephants never forgot Gandhi. Watch them back away… priceless!
That woman right there? My grandmother. She was such a hottie!
The stories are true that he made his own clothes.
Ever seen a handspun cotton gimp costume?
We’ll watch Reel 17 tonight and you’ll see for yourself.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Fifty, 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 Just let me touch it….
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories from Weekly Challenge #150?
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Anima from http://zabbadabba.com
	Guy David from http://guydavid.com
	Ashley
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogspot.com
	Almo
	Michael
	Lynda from http://sisterpepperspray.blogspot.com
	Norval from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Justin from http://www.thespaceturtle.com/
	Sougent from http://sladventures.sougent.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Tom
Swahili -English Dictionary

The light chocolate horizon was broken by a rather tall Acacia. The sun rose brightly over the savanna, over the Acacias. It was here Ymoja Nzambi stood gazing at the bloody work of her brother Ogun. He dropped the impala with a single blow. A hunter at last he thought. “Tu utakodi mimi shika swala!” implored Ymoja. Ogun ignore her until he heard her draw her knife. “Shaka” whispered Ymoja. “Nya” cursed Ogun” Tomba …. Vikuto.” enda mbio enda bullet ama pigano?” inquired Ymoja. “Panda mti.” And up the Acacia they scrabbled. They watched sadly as Vikuto consumed the Swala.

Anima

You know how they say you should trust your inner voice? What do you do when it mutters foreign gibberish?
¡Ai caramba! Dejame tocarlo…
I ransack my brain for the dregs of my college Spanish to figure out what I am saying.
Just let me touch it…
Worse, we start to argue…
No, that’s not a good idea…
¡Por qué no?! ¡Eres tan miedoso! Scardeypants!
That did it. I reach out my hand… touching the bushy caterpillar of Frida Kahlo’s eyebrow. Immediately it transforms into a vivid blue butterfly and flutters away.
Damn, that’s good Mescal. Self, pour another round!

Guy David

“But… can you do it?” I asked, eyeing his suspiciously. I never liked those federal types. I always suspected them of being oblivious of the consequences. “Nothing to it” said the man in the black overcoat. I checked my watch. It was nearly time now. “Just let me touch it one last time” I asked. “Sure” he said, “Just don’t break it.” The Pterospondylus egg lay before me. I touched it gently, then they took it and rolled it into the incubator. As I watched the egg in the incubator, I envisioned a future where flying dinosaurs grace our skies.

Ashley

The car swerved violently to miss the animal. No such luck. Both mother and daughter went to have a look.
“Mommy is it dead? Can I touch it pleeeaaasssseee,” begged the little girl?
“No. Just look at that thing, all grey and scaly. We don’t know where it’s been.”
Suddenly a bright beam knocked them both unconscious. A large and small alien exited a spaceship hissing back and forth.
Translation:
“May I examine with tactile function? Or procure one,” queried the small alien?
“Negative. Return to the vessel. They will recover shortly. I must decontaminate your sibling prior to retrieval.”

Jeff

“Alright I need a full report, what happened here.”
“Well sir, I am not quite sure, but the basics.”
“Just tell me what happened private, the world is in ruins and it started in this room.”
“Well sir, there was this little kid.”
“A little kid?”
“Yeah she was running around and asking about everything.”
“A little kid? Here?”
“Bring your child to work day. Well she just kept saying she just wanted to touch the button. We didn’t think it would do anything since you have to push both.”
“Didn’t you read the memo about the safeties being removed?”

Almo

God gave Adam and Eve the guided tour of the Garden of Eden. “Look,” God said, “the ground rules are simple. Eat anything you want, all you want without guilt, except for the stuff on this tree.”
God pointed at the Tree of Knowledge. Adam and Eve’s eyes got big.
“Hey, listen up,” God said, raising his voice. “Even the chimps can follow this rule.”
“Just let me touch it,” Adam said, and he began to move his finger closer and closer to the forbidden fruit.
“Adam, don’t be a putz,” God said, and smacked Adam’s hand away. He saw this would not be good.

Michael

“If you just let me touch it and hold it I know I can make it smaller and it won’t be hard any more.”
She acts like she knows everything.
She pulls this little prank every time there’s a crowd.
To hell with her – I’ll go along one more time.
I reach down into my cup and grab the biggest one I can find.
But I ask you, what’s so damned magical about holding an ice cube until it melts?

Lynda

“Just let me touch it,” you said.
“It’s so cute,” you said.
“I’ll be really careful,” you said.
Back in my day, bombs had fierce shit painted on them. Tigers, sharks, naked broads, things with teeth! We could insult the bastards we were gonna kill, none of this cutesy pastel non-threatening shit like big-eyed bunnies and daisies. “Have a nice afterlife!”
Can’t have menacing looking instruments of doom these days.
A bomb’s a bomb, Jenkins. Triggers and wires and death. Totally non-huggable.
I hope you’re happy.
Oh that’s right, you’re fried to a crisp.
Where the hell is my leg?

Norval

Approaching the shop, he knew that the object was inside. Its power drew him, and he knew, once inside, his time was limited. He greeted the shopkeeper behind the workbench.
“You have a device; small, green, with runic script across it?”
Surprised, he answered “Yes” and produced it from a cabinet.
“May I hold it?” he asked.
“It’s been in my family for centuries,” the shopkeeper replied, hesitating.
“Just let me touch it,” He nearly screamed in desperation.
Stepping back, the shopkeeper cowered.
He knew that he had lost his one chance as he felt his body becoming less substantial

Justin

“Please, can I touch it, just once?”
Timmy’s father shook his head gravely.
“It must’nt ever be opened. To avoid temptation, you mustn’t touch it.”
Timmy kept staring.
“Pay it no mind. We must guard it, but we needn’t stare at it.”
His father slept. Timmy stared at it, then touched it.
Open me!
The voice was so beautiful he couldn’t resist it. He flipped the lid off of the Pandoraingles cylinder. A hollow echo sounded as potato crisps of burdensome labor, ill, and disease escaped.
His father awoke.
“What have you done! Once you pop, the evil don’t stop!”

Sougent

Can I touch it? Huh? Can I, can I? Huh? Can I?
Please let me touch it, I wanna touch it. Can I, can I? Please?
You never let me touch it, I wanna touch it. Can I touch it?
Pleeeese let me touch it.
I just wanna touch it once, please, please, please, can I touch it?
I don’t like you, you’re mean, you never let me touch it. All I
wanna do is touch it.
I won’t hurt it, please let me touch it.
But Willie, you ain’t got no hands.
Just let me touch it…….pleeeeeese.

Planet Z

Slip the surly bonds of Earth, President Reagan said, and touch the face of God.
That was my father up there, the whole world watching him die.
It has taken me years, but I am ready to go to space, to ascend to the heavens and touch that face.
Can I touch it? Will I reach where my father before me failed?
Or will my own son watch my demise among the clouds, luring him into the sky as my father did to me?
Just let me touch it, and wipe away that final tear forever.
From my own face.