Warp Factor Zero

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Bones rattled around the Infirmary until Jim came down and opened the door.
“Have you figured out what the problem is?” said Jim, looking down at Spock, who was laying on an examination table.
“It’s his damn green Vulcan blood,” growled Bones. “I don’t know whether he’s got a nosebleed or a runny nose.”
“It’s just a runny nose,” said Spock matter-of-factly.
“Then why were you shrieking for a tissue and pinching your nose?” said Bones.
“It’s… the… Vulcan Nose Grip,” said Spock. “Simple logic.”
Jim laughed, and Bones punched him in the nose.
“Now that’s a nosebleed,” said Bones.

The Meaty Brigands

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When the ship’s crew sang “You ho ho, and a bottle of A1 Steak Sauce!” I began to worry.
I thought I was signing on to a crew that would search for gold and treasure, but all we’ve done is search the Spanish Main for steaks, burger patties, and all-beef sausages.
“What kind of pirates are we, anyway?” I asked Captain Greasybeard.
“Yarrrrr, we be meat pirates!” he chortled, and the entire crew raised a mighty cheer.
I looked around, shrugged, and cheered along.
It’s been a good life on the ship, but walking the grill hurts like a motherfucker.

Spork Girl

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Jenny got rejection notices from Teen Titans.
“Rejection is a part of life,” said her mother, comforting Jenny. “Come on, show me again what you can do.”
Jenny put a fork in one hand, a spoon in the other, and then put her hands behind her back.
“Abracadabra,” she said.
When she brought her hands back in front of her, she revealed the spork.
“Do you have to do that with the nice silverware, Jenny?” asked her mother. “Can’t you just do that with the plastic picnic spoons and forks?”
Jenny cried and ran to her room, slamming the door.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 71

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Every now and then Abraham Lincoln did the grocery shopping.
It was an act of self-preservation, since Mary Todd had a habit of picking up asparagus and pig knuckles.
Abe wanted chicken for dinner, so he bought a dozen eggs and brought them back home to the White House.
“You want eggs?” asked Mary Todd. “Scrambled? Boiled?”
“No, I want chicken,” said Abraham.
“They won’t be ready for months,” said Mary Todd. “We’re having scrambled eggs.”
We shall sooner have the fowl by hatching the egg than by smashing it,” said Lincoln.
Mary Todd smashed the eggs in Abe’s face.

Weekly Challenge #40 – Starting a new job

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Welcome to the fortieth 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 supposed to be selected by Rahel from Elms In The Yard, and it’s starting a new job.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
Two few rookies joined in… yay!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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):

Who wrote the best story for the fortieth Weekly Challenge?
Kelly from Come Let Me Whisper
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Artie
George
Tom from Footnote
Elisson of blog d’Elisson
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
Rahel from Elms In The Yard
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Laieanna from Hodge Podge Point
The Mad Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s going to be the fridge magnets, which I still need to order. Stay tuned.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!


The full text of each story:
KELLY

Lilly winced. “This is absolutely the worst,” she thought. The body in front of her was cold–just a number now.
She just had to have a change. Insurance Adjustor wasn’t good enough. “Ha! Who says?” ran through her mind.
She didn’t know anyone who had every done this before, but Lilly was adventurous.
“Was this decision wise? Well thought out?” she began questioning herself. Bad sign. This was just her first job in the field. “Yikes! I can’t start this shit. I have already committed the murder. Now time to clean up. Next time will be better for sure.”

ANDREW

Looking at used condoms, odd stains and used toilet paper strewn around all next to an overflowing turd-filled toilet, Matt flinched.
“You don’t expect me to fuckin’ clean that?”
“Yeah I do that is what I am paying you for…” replied his manager with him on the first day.
“I never signed up to clean no bloody loos!”
“What the hell did you think it was for £25 an hour wih no need for qualifications?”
“It said Environmental Standards Officer!” screeched Matt slightly worry the men around him..
“Well he can clean me for £25!” lisped a man behind him.

ARTIE

“Hello, Bernie here. I am a polar bear at the North Pole, and this is, Sally. Say hi, Sally.”
“Hi!”
“Sally’s shy, so I’ll be doing most of the talking. I’m sure being addressed by a polar bear and penguin is surprising, but things have changed a lot up here. Recent expeditions confirm that Ice is melting here at an unusual and unprecedented rate. Something has to be done to reduce the greenhouse-gas emissions induced by humans. A ladder would be helpful, but if things don’t improve we’ll need a stairway to heaven. Please help us. Say goodbye, Sally.”
“Goodbye.”

GEORGE

Well, I suppose it’s normal to be nervous on the first day.
I still can’t believe I got the job.
But it was made for me.
If my ex could only see me now, the big bad ex marine.
What is that they say about always faithful?
Well, if that was so, we would still be together.
And always making fun of me, do you know which end to point at the target?
Look, its Jackie in pink saffron. It is her color, much better than red, which can just murder you. Now deep breathe and slowly squeeze the trigger.

TOM

“Barnett you’re with Ralph”
Staring a new job was never a problem for Josh or maybe it was just the selection of jobs that never took much trailing.
“You gots to do three things right every time,” said Ralph.
“Take the spring clamps and pin the vinyl round the rails.”
“Lock all four wheels.”
Ralph paused and shot Josh a no-nonsense glare.
“Never stop rolling.”
They pulled the gurney next to Mrs. Wade’s couch.
Wheels, clamps, roll, roll.
“DON’T STOP.” Yelled Ralph
Too late.
Mrs. Wade tore in two falling into Josh’s lap.
He screamed. He screamed a lot.

ELISSON

In my new job, I’m what you might call a specialist.
My profession is not noted for being selective about its clients. “If you got the dime, I’ve got the time” is the order of the day for most of my colleagues. Me, I’ve got standards.
My customers are all in the pipe and fixtures business.
Hey, it makes sense. The guys have plenty of cash – hell, they make more than surgeons. And they have needs.
I have needs too. My new job helps pay for my “medication.”
I’m not just a crack whore. I’m a plumber’s crack whore.

HOUSTON KEYS

I got a new job. It’s not like I changed employment. I’m a hit man. Same career, just different jobs.
Neb “The Neck” met me in the alley.
“I’ve got a mole in my outfit. I need you to eliminate him.”
“Who is he? I asked.
Neb handed a photo of an orange cat in a ridiculous clown collar to me.
“Sam price as always?”Neb asked.
“No, double it,” I replied. “For a job this ridiculous I need something extra.”
“What’s so ridiculous about the job?” asked Neb.
“Get real,” I said. “You want me to whack a mole.”

RAHEL

George is a good sort. He used to be in charge before I came, but he’s semi-retired now. Just likes to sit in the sun and dream. Well, he deserves a break–he put in his time, about fifteen years, I think.
Lately he’s been giving me pointers. “Don’t catch them all at once, kid,” he told me. “You have to give them time to reproduce. There’s a balance in nature, see. And you don’t want to make yourself obsolete, either.”
I’m going to listen to George. And I’m going to be the best mouser this farm has ever had.

LISA

Sean was thrilled to get a shipping and receiving job at the new plant opening in his town.
He’d made some new friends, learned all the ins and outs of the job, was working overtime and making good money. It was a huge relief his new boss hadn’t checked out his references.
When the boss came back late one night because he’d forgotten something, he learned (graphically) the reason why Sean was “let go” from his last place:
Sean and the cleaning lady, Margaret, were living out his favorite fantasy: wild sex in a large box filled with packing peanuts.

LAIEANNA

“I’m so excited to be working with this firm. There were so many different career path opportunities, but this is the one that interested me the most. I took all the courses necessary to do this job like a seasoned pro. Soon, I’ll be recognized and climb the ladder of success. By the way, thank you for taking me through my first day’s route. What location do we go to after this facility?”
“We don’t.”
“My, that’s a lot to collect in one location!”
“Wait till you see your clientèle.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Duho toof fairy!”
“Welcome to the lowest rank.”

Z

The moment the crown touched my head, my new job started.
Not that it’s much of a job, really.
Oh, sure, there’s the ceremonies and interviews, but aside from my time in the Navy, I haven’t done an day’s work in my life.
My primary job duty is to have kids.
Already did that, and they don’t look like they’re going to turn out gay, so I’m sure they’ll have kids, too.
Oh, and I never wait in line, either. But sometimes people yell at me for it: “WHO THE HELL DIED AND MADE YOU KING?”
“My mother,” I say, and I walk in the door.


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.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

The Angel

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My wife didn’t go to Florida this year for Christmas, so she put up a Yule tree.
It was a fake tree, prewired with lights and pinecones. And even though it wasn’t going to shed needles, we still got a tree skirt for it.
We kept the decorations simple. And we didn’t put an angel on top.
No, that was for Piperkitty’s photo. She watched us put the tree up, but didn’t live to see us take it down.
As we take down the ornaments, I find her last tinkly collar.
I don’t remember putting it up there.
Do you?

1701

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New Year’s at the Blue Line.
Well, for the goyim. Rosh Hoshana wouldn’t be for another nine months.
Across the border, yellow and green flags wave from watchtowers while masked men carry crates of ammunition into homes.
Watching them, soldiers with unloaded rifles and blue helmets sipped coffee and called home on cell phones.
“Wasn’t 1701 supposed to solve all this shit?” asked Lieutenant Tzivni.
In the distance, a muffled explosion echoed in the hills.
“Mine?” asked Tzivni.
“Cluster bomb,” said Goldman.
“Think we’ll get our boys back?” asked Tzivni.
Goldman watched the Bluehelmets nap, and he shook his head.

Hallowed

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The final of three tales from fellow HWRNMNBSOL disciple Alan P. Scott.

We file into the sanctuary, folding into our pews. The Christ above His altar beams through His blessed agony. Oddly fixed in shape, just four tentacles and one sense-bud, eyes embedded in its hard shell. Yet He is Lord, and before Him we had none. So we sing His praises as we are able.
His spirit fills me as never before. I shove past limbs retracting and extending, stumbling to the altar. I kneel before His cross and swear: I dedicate myself to His service.
Tomorrow I have the operation. Four tentacles, and one sense-bud. Remade, in His Image. Amen.

In a perfect world, this would entice HWRNMNBSOL out of his lair, but apparently he requires a blood-sacrifice.
Time to hit the pet store.

Israelisms

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As Charley and Carol sit down to record another podcast, another couple sits down in Gaza, puts their headphones on, and they begin to record.
After dispensing with the weather in q’ranic verse, Abdul and Fatima argue over the news of the day.
Well, Abdul talks and Fatima agrees, fearful of the sting of Abdul’s hand.
Oh, and their daughter Yasserina has joined the resistance! Allahu Ackbhar!
Then Fatima thanks everyone (including Mahmoud from Dearborn), wrap things up, and it’s time to upload.
What? The server isn’t connecting?
They forgot to pay their bill, but they still blame the Zionists.

Arachne

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Alan P. Scott offers up a second 100 word story for your enlightenment.

Reshmi – flowering, sixteen – sells code from her loom. “Programs Woven Here,” reversing Jacquard since age thirteen. Geeks buzz around her.
Madhukar offers his tattered web browser.
“It needs patched.”
Reshmi dimples.
“More a whole garment, think I. But no worries. It will be perfect.”
Madhukar plunges.
“And…
“Would you dance with me at festival tomorrow?”
He is her first.
“Yes.”
*
But she doesn’t. Her stall empty, ransacked. Madhukar receives email with one large attachment: rewoven, as promised.
Madhukar clicks ever deeper into the deepest web. Madhukar can go anywhere. It’s perfect – and he realizes who Reshmi angered.