The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the forty-first 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 Andrew Ian Dodge from Dodgeblogium, and it’s fecal matter.
Eight stories were submitted this week. Single digits… boo!
One rookie this week!
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 had the best story for Weekly Challenge #41?
	Andrew Ian Dodge of Dodgeblogium
	Terrence from Never Was
	Tom from Footnote
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
	Ted From Ted’s Podcast
	Rahel from Elms In The Yard
	Mark H. the Spin Doctor
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	The Mad Bard From Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… I still haven’t decided what it will be, but I will be sending them one.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

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The full text of each story:
ANDREW

“Fecal matter?” Gasped the senstive 100 word writer, “what the hell is
that Andrew playing at?”
“Well fecal matter is another name for shit, or rather crap which is,
of course, the name of the host-blog.” Replied her friend on IM.
“But fecal matter what kind of crap theme’s that?”
“Exactly…”
“No!” replied the exasperated writer, “I have my reputation. What
would my readers think of such a tale?”
“That you are a good sport? Happy to take the subjects whatever they might be?”
“After all Andrew has to deal with the lame subjects you come
up with.” He replied.

TERRENCE

Raoul walked down the street from one pool of light, shining down from
a streetlight, to the next. His hood was pulled up and he looked down
at the ground as he passed the occasional person on the street. He
turned down a dark alley and stopped quickly when a large man appeared
pointing a gun at him.
“Hand over your wallet.” The man ordered, shoving the gun towards him.
Slowly, Raoul raised his hands and removed the hood from his head.
The man took one look at him, dropped his gun and filling his pants
with sh…… fecal matter.

TOM

Nichols Flamel roared with laughter “Je n’y Fourche crois pas” he snorted. His ilk had tried everything silver iron lead ivory mahogany polar ice.
The translation on transmutation by the Moroccan rabbi proved ironic beyond belief. “It’s not a goose egg,” he chuckled glazing at the Hebrew text.
Over the next month he had purchased every goose in Paris. The stench was over powering even by Parisian standards. The next year Nichols Flamel was the riches man in all Europe.
His alchemist brothers had taken the wrong path fixating on density and noble elements. Who’d guessed gold from fecal matter?

ELISSON

In the Land of Looxembourg, Fecal Matters were adjudicated by the Duke of Dookie.
He did not come to sit on his throne by noble birthright alone. He had studied Excremental Existentialism at Poopoo University – where the official Pootball Team Cheer was “Squeeze another touchdown out for Old Poo U!” – receiving his Dooktorate in Defecation for proving that shit, in fact, exists. De Facto Defecatio.
Now he was faced with a difficult case. A Stool Pigeon had caught the Vice-Chancellor adulterating his turds with Undigested Corn, a felony.
The Duke did his duty. “I sentence you to die…arrhea!”

TED

It’s a shitty world!
It seems that everyone is trying to take the fun out of everything these days. You can’t blow smoke in a babys face anymore, and it’s considered “insensitive” to torch a bag of dog poo on your neighbors front porch. Even that Lawrence Simon guy keeps saying that Podcasting DOT is full of crap! What the hell is DOT anyway, and why would you want to Podcast it?
Ah, well. Sometimes you just have to say “what the hell?”
I guess when all is said and done, it doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t fecal matter..

RAHEL

Bithia bent to her task. Like all royal children, she must serve in a temple, and today her job was to empty the litter pans.
Examining their contents, she smiled. Praise Bast, no more worms! Her formula had worked.
Outside, a whip cracked and a man groaned. Bithia’s eyes filled. “Lady Bast – or any god who may be listening – please put an end to that,” she prayed. “If only I could do so myself.”
Her work done, she summoned her maids. “I need a bath,” she said, leading them to the riverbank …
… for a dip that changed history.

MARK

His first creation looked just like Richard Nixon. “I am a sculptor,” he thought. Later, controlling hue and texture with diet, he produced other masterpieces: Beyonce, Rodman, Condoleezza. Artistically, busts worked, but abstracts just looked like piles of crap. He imagined himself the founder of poopism, the creator of fart art.
Eventually, he discovered, with beet-red hair, a corn-pearl necklace, and a greenish dress covering smooth brown shoulders, a perfect Lindsay Lohan. His wife would have to admit to his genius. He called out for her. She arrived just as Fluffy escaped, followed by the whoosh of the toilet flushing…

LAIEANNA

“Just two drops a day and one release a month. Yes, folks, you can now have relief from constant bowel movements with no side effects. Guaranteed! This is the bonafide real deal. Our remedy comes with all synthetic ingredients and is at low, low price. Step right up and see your life change forever.”
He was good and everyone bought his wares. Instructions were followed and life did change. A month passed, to the day, and every used toilet exploded. The town was flooded, burying everything. The salesman smiled and went back to his sales at the next sinning city.

Z

Two monkeys walk into a bar.
The bartender asks the first one: “So, what will you have?”
The first monkey says “I think I want a banana daiquiri.”
So the bartender mixes him up a banana daiquiri.
Then he asks the second monkey what he wants.
The second monkey says “I want a beer and a shot.”
The bartender asks the second monkey “Why don’t you want a banana daiquiri? Don’t all monkeys like bananas?”
“The second monkey throws a lump of crap at the bartender. “Yeah, I like bananas, but not all monkeys are daiquiri-drinking faggots like him.”

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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.)

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.

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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.)