Weekly Challenge #33 – Cephalopod

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Welcome to the thirty-third 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 Lee from Readstrange and he chose Cephalopod.
stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
rookies this week? BOOOOOOOOOO!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 Weekly Challenge #33?
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
Steve from iLaugh
Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
K-9 from Dead Dog Blogging
Lee from Read Strange
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Will Ross from Smart Bomb Radio
B
Houston Keys from Tater Tots for the Masses
The Twisted Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!


The full text of each story:
TA MARQUETTE

Two cephalopods float into a bar.
After upping a dozen Marianna Whitefish
one cephalopods notes the other
is missing his Hectocotylus.
“You’re dickless dude, what happened?”
“It got snapped off in Rita.”
“Ouch, that’s got to hurt.”
“Not half as much as what she said.
Just before Mr. Happy went west I hear
‘I didn’t know you had such a small organ.’
“Man that’s cold. What did you say?”
“Nothing”
“What?”
“Listen if she ever loads it up again here’s what you say.
I didn’t know I had to play in a cathedral.”
You have dialed dial a dirty joke.

STEVE

Suddenly, a hush fell over the room.
“You all heard him, right? How many times did he say ‘mushroom’?”
“Um…I dunno Jen…seven?” squeaked John.
“SEVEN? Try 40! Son of a bitch had it coming!”
The argument ended there, as everyone’s eyes were still trained on the bloodied candlestick that Jen still clutched in her hands, and the growing pool of red forming beneath Tom’s head.
“Well then, what was it?” asked Kath.
“Cephalopod!”
“Oh,” replied the crowd.
“I kinda thought it was a mushroom too…” whispered Gary.
And with that, no one ever played Pictionary at the Anderson’s house again.

LAIEANNA

“God, this is rubbery. Can’t you cook them differently?”
“Like I have a wide selection of ingredients! Maybe you should go out and catch something else.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Then shut up about my cooking.”
“Shit, it’s happening again. Get me the axe!”
“Try not to damage the hull.”
“I’m chopping at it all day and it still gets through. That’s not my fault!”
“Maybe we should just go out there and let it kill us.”
“Oh no! We’ll eat it tentacle by tentacle before I let it have me! I don’t care how rubbery they are!”

DODGE

Prof Ali looked over the side of the ship. He was looking for the giant cephalopod he heard about in these waters, 300 miles off the coast of Guam. He did not fear the rumours of al Dagon or any tales of an evil sea djinn. He was a man of science who wanted to get the glory for this discovery for his Cairo University.
He did not notice that no others were on deck with him..
He did see the huge shape below the boat coming toward him. He didn’t fear it but itched to see it.
He did…

K-NINE

It was Captain Wook’s first command. He had risen through the ranks from trooper to officer with strategy and forethought.
As young as he was, he was surprised to have been given a battle commission and command of the first wave. He wasn’t worried though, the enemy had proven to be splintered by political factions and a populace with an overactive social conscience.
They would be easy to defeat.
As he reached out with one of his tentacles and shoved another screaming human into his mastication orifice he thought to himself, “Not bad for a Cephalopod from a small moon.”

LEE

Sergeant Miller stood in front of the suspect and frowned. This one was dressed as a milkman.
“They’re getting better,” said Miller to Dr. Bateman.
“Hey, look,” complained the milkman. “I got a route to deliver.”
“Not till we know for certain,” Miller replied and wheeled over the testing apparatus. The milkman gasped.
“This won’t take long,” said the doctor. Miller backed away.
Bateman opened a vial, removed a pinch of pepper and blew.
“PA-too-too-WHOO-PEE!”
Miller put a bullet through the milkman’s head and re-holstered his gun.
“Once the cephalopods learn how to sneeze…”
“Then god help us,” Bateman sighed.

ELISSON

Sidney the Squid was a cephalopod.
He was mighty odd for a cephalopod.
On his Undersea Tee-Vee he’d watch the CephaloMod Squad –
And the Mickey Mollusk Club: he loved Jimmie Cephalo-Dodd.
A Religi-Squidgy, he was a disciple of the CephaloGod.
He caught dinner (Boston scrod) with hook, line, and CephaloRod.
He was a Music Maven with his Cephalo-iPod.
He hung out at Gold’s Gym to buff his CephaloBod.
He’d watch Superman II and root for General CephaloZod.
He’d indicate approval with a wink and cephalo-nod.
Despite Sidney’s being so cephalo-odd,
His friends worshiped the ground ‘pon which he cephalo-trod.

WILL ROSS

Well, it’s that time of year again where you look into your Necronomicon and see which followers have been naughty and which followers have been nice. As I’ve been extra good this year, here is my list of presents I want from you. I would tell you in person but our mall is totally not politically correct and only has a santa claus.
A ten speed
Kill Tommy Stevens
GI-Joes
Invulnerability.
Legos
And a kid brother I can play with (My last one broke)
I long to feel the embrace of your dark tentacles,
Billy Sawyer (Age 10)

B

Sammy Cephalopod was a pretty even-tempered fellow. He never went looking for trouble. He stayed hidden, for the most part, in between rocks waiting for the next unsuspecting crab dinner to wander along.
Because he was small, cute, and had beautiful blue rings, there was always some creature passing by that just couldn’t resist the urge to say, “Oh look! How cute!”
That’s fine. But they’d better not try to pet him! He liked his personal space and the price for invading it would lethal. He might be small but in the world of Hapaloclaena maculosa, size really DOESN’T matter.

HOUSTON KEYS

“I should have flushed it” Cali mumbled.
The smoldering remains of her bathroom reflected the damage done to her psyche as she reviewed the cephalopod attack.
It had seemed cute at first. As it grew it became a problem.
When it ate the cat she knew something had to be done.
Taking the aquarium to the bathroom she decided on a burial at sea but the squid fought back. In the struggle a tentacle grabbed her cell phone pulling it into the toilet and ruining it.
“If I had flushed the cell phone, my insurance would have covered it. Crap!”

Z

Clem saw The Octopus on the auction block.
It was the fiercest amusement park ride of its day, but over the years, the thrill was gone.
After Clem bought it, he realized it would be hard to include in his traveling carnival because of its overall weight and complexity.
So, he had it assembled, and then stripped it down to reduce its travel burden and assembly time.
Stabilizers, safety bars, and other unessential components – all sold for scrap.
Yet, it looked the same, the menacing aluminum carapace, freshly-painted.
Didn’t fool the safety inspector, though.
Rejected.
Clem doubled his bribe.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #32 – Horbgorble

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Welcome to the thirty-second 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 Houston Keys from Houston Keys and he chose Horbgorble.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
No rookies this week? BOOOOOOOOOO!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 in the 32nd Weekly Challenge?
Alpha K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Andrew Ian Dodge of Dogeblogium
Steve from iLaugh.com
Caroline from Quadra Island
Lee from Read Strange
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Mark
T.A. Marquette from Footnote
Houston Keys from Tater Tots for the Masses
The Disturbed Bard Of Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!


The full text to each story…
ALPHA K NINE

“Speak to me damn it! I said speak up! I need a damage report!”
The lights on the con of the new experimental submarine were fading. Communication with the other decks was nonexistent. Commander Squallier paced bulkhead to bulkhead chewing his lower lip, glaring at the microphone he had just thrown down and kicking at the rising puddles of water.
A very clinical and far away voice, from one of the control ships on the surface came across.
Squallier answered, much calmer than before. “Mission failure… We won’t be coming back this time.”
“Repeat message Commander, You’re breaking up”
“Horbgorble…”

LISA

She was surprised to hear this week’s topic would be “horbgoble”. Surely Houston Keys didn’t know what that word really meant, could he? She wasn’t aware that other people actually used it; she thought it was something only she and her man used.
How did he know?
She “Googled” it – nothin’.
Dictionary.com? Nothin’.
How in the world could Houston Keys possibly know this? Had she mistakenly left the webcam on?
She went to the last source she knew of that “might” have it – urbandictionary.com. Not finding it there either, she decided to bravely submit the real meaning for it there.

ANDREW IAN DODGE

“Oh my good he exclaimed I just saw a Horbgorble!”
“A what?” Exclaimed an exasperated Rupert.
“A bloody horbgorble! You know…one of them big and scary things that
is ugly and brutish.”
“You mean John Prescott MP?”
“Wha…” He got more upset. “No…horbgorble big, hairy and ugly with a big nose.”
“Oh you mean Hazel Blears?”
“No like off that ale from up North that is strong an’ dark.”
“Oh hobgoblin!.”
“Yeah one of dem’…”
“You in Leiscester Square mate?”
“Yeah…”
“Tonight is the premiere of the new Spiderman movie you pillock. That
is a bloke in a costume.”
“Ooh”

STEVE A

“AHA!”
Jeremy was startled out of his mood by a single word.
That would be his nickname.
How tough sounding! If this caught on, he’d be the coolest guy in school.
Plus, bullies don’t pick on guys with nicknames, even if they do have braces and acne.
Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Honey, are you OK? You’ve been in the washroom quite a while now.”
“I’m fine Mom! And, from now on, the name is…Horbgorble!”
“OK dear…dinner’s in 10 minutes.”
“Fine!”
And with that, Horbgorble returned to the bra section of the catalogue to finish masturbating.

CAROLINE

Instead of the usual ga ga and boo boo’s Thomas said ‘horble gorbles. The psychologist said he was a genius and would be very gifted. The doctor said what a clever baby you have. His father said, My son’s a bloody genius. His sister said my baby brother’s going to be a scientist.
Thomas became a truck driver. His mother asked ‘Why didn’t you become the genius we expected. What was the ‘horble gorbles word?’ That, said Thomas was “horrible Gargoyles.’ Besides I didn’t’ like the look of that psychologist with the furry eyebrows and wart on his left cheek.

LEE OF READSTRANGE

“What is it?”
“Dunno really. The box says it’s a Horbgorble, some kind of robot invader thing.”
“And that’s what you got Billy for Christmas?”
“It’s what he wanted.”
“What does it do?”
“I put batteries in. Turn it on here…there it goes!”
“…it just walks around like that…?”
“Hi! I’m Horbgorble. All useless lifeforms must be exterminated.”
“…a bit violent…”
“Seems locked on the cat…”
“Identified: felix domesticus. Verdict: useless.”
“What’s it pointing at Fluffy?”
Zzzz-AP!
“Oh my god! Fluffy!”
“It vaporised the cat, Peter!”
Zzzz-AP!
“…the Christmas tree!”
“Peter! It’s pointing at…”
“Identified: homo sapiens. Verdict: useless.”
Zzzz-AP!

LAIEANNA

“Oh, you think this is over, don’t you, big hero? You’re so wrong! I
have family and they won’t let me go to prison.” The villain boasted.
Bad guys…they never quit…kept him in business.
“You’re crazy.” Spiderman took a drag off the cigarette he had
stashed. MaryJane was going to kill him for this.
“Here comes my cousin right now!” Hobgoblin laughed. A sickly green
man in costume, looking lost, walked towards the two, then away, never
looking directly at them. “Horbgorble, you idiot, come back here and
help me!”
“Nice family tree,” Spiderman smiled and strung up his nemesis.

MARK H

Wizard explained to Apprentice, “Brownian motion is a random process that bounces sunlit specks of dust on the backs of molecular broncos. There is no controlling consciousness. Collisions usually occur between pairs, and rarely, there is a three way collision. No steering. No purpose.
“The activities of humans are similarly random, for the most part. Coincidences occur. Perceived significance is imposed by the observers, not inherent in the events themselves.
“So, if an extremely rare four way dust mote collision occurs, don’t think ‘miracle.’ Improbable events are not impossible. Miracles don’t occur. Things don’t ‘happen for a reason.’ Horbgorbling happens.”

TA MARQUETTE

We say kaddish at the bridge
Marilyn stood on her great aunts porch.
In the twilight her eyes noted
each tiny shadow on each doorpost.
Though painted often her fingers and eyes
moved across the hollows were rested the mezuzahs
In 1938 they burn her synagogue.
In 1940 they rename her street Hitlerstrasse
In 1942 they sent her to Theresienstadt
In 1952 they sent her body home.
The town of Horb lies on the edge of the Black Forest
and the Jewish cemetery lie within that forest,
in there lies Hedwig Schwarz survivor of Terezín
by the river in the town where no longer lives a Jew.

HOUSTON KEYS

The annual Thanksgiving fight, it’s a tradition in our house, this year, it was over scrabble.
-Chris- Here you go, triple score! I win!
——-Said my wonderful son.
-Me- No way! HORBGORBLE is not a word.
-Chris- Yes it is, it means “Wander aimlessly.”
——-He was good and crafty. I would have to be extra smart to defeat him.
-Me- Now that’s just silly. There is no way it means that!
-Chris- Look it up, Dad.
——-He called my bluff.
-Me- Fine! I will!
-Chris- Good, now, get this fork out of your forehead old man!
-Me- ARRRRGH!
The emotional scars still remain.

Z

Every Thanksgiving, right there in the middle of the table, it’s the same goofy Pilgrim centerpiece my mother crocheted from a magazine pattern years ago.
I don’t remember a Thanksgiving without it.
Over the years, it’s faded and gotten a bit dusty. There’s all sorts of stains on it.
But it keeps coming back.
I call it the “Horbgorble.” And I tell the grandkids, it goes around the world eating bad children during the rest of the year.
Those aren’t gravy stains. They’re blood.
So they break the wishbone, they wish the Horbgorble won’t get them.
And it hasn’t.
Yet.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #31 – Cheese

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Welcome to the thirty-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 selected by Elisson from blog d’Elisson and he chose Cheese.
A whopping seventeen stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
An amazing six rookies this week! WOW! (Thank you, Pickle Tales!)
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 31st Weekly Challenge?
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
Lee from Read Strange
Eric from Straight White Guy
Alpha K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin’
Toby from The Smart Patrol
Steve from iLaugh
Mark H.
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Andrew Ian Dodge from Dodgeblogium
Tom from Footnote Podcast
Kolek From The Kolektive
B
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Caroline from Quadra Island
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Rahel from Elms in the Yard
The Mad Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

WE GOTS PRIZES:
Houston Keys
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!


The full text to each story…
HOUSTON KEYS

Elf 1: Hey Dude! What’s going on?
Elf2: Hey Man… Oh my GOSH! What is that smell?
Elf 1: What Smell?
Elf 2: Gang help!
Everyone: UUUUGH!!!!!
Elf 1: What’s up with you losers?
Elf 2: You CUT THE CHEESE MAN!
Elf 3: Here man, try these, they’ll make you cool.
Elf 1: Do you mean… DRUGS????
Elf 2: Yeah man, be cool.
Elf 3: You can be cool like us.
Elf 1: Cool Man.
Elf 1: This is so cool.
Elf 2: Are you tripping man?
Elf 1: Yeah, I’m tripping hard. Wow man, the colors!
Elf 2: You are so lame.
Elf 3: Yeah. What a dweeb.
Elf 1:What are you talking about? Don’t ruin my buzz.
Elf 2: You Dork. That was Beano!
Elf 3: At least you won’t be cutting the Cheese anymore!

LEE

It was 3pm before a delegation of workmates arrived at Oliver’s desk.
“Oliver…”
“Yes? Hello everyone.”
“Um…it’s about your head.”
Oliver sat back, frowning. “I’m sorry?”
Samantha held up a mirror. Oliver blinked. During the conference they’d watched Oliver’s head transform into cheese. Until now, they’d said nothing.
“My god!” Oliver exclaimed. “Is that…brie?”
“Camembert,” Bradley whispered.
Oliver ran hands over his creamy cheeks, relaxing ears and a scalp of cool, rubbery rind. He panicked. What would Jessica say? And Timmy! Would he recognise his goopy father?
Oliver ran wailing from the office, trailing a clutch of eager, twitching rats.

ERIC

The Cheese sat quietly in a hidden corner of the fridge. Broodingly, it shuddered slightly, feeling the vibrations of legions of tiny bacteria working their silent magic.
A damp funk sheathed the blue veins as they pulsed. The magnified movement of a myriad of millions made The Cheese smile inwardly and puff its chest.
The label bulged where a sweaty, white liquid had pooled behind the slick plastic.
The Cheese flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed, testing the confines of the wrappings. “My time is close,” it growled in the chilled darkness, “soon they will pay for having forgotten me.”

ALPHA K NINE

Detective Murray stared in disbelief at the murder weapon in his hands. This was, no doubt, the most bizarre homicide he had ever investigated.
The table was laden with cold cuts and appetizers for the 40th wedding anniversary of the deceased and of the killer. Even with witnesses aplenty, motive and the implement of destruction in his hands he knew this would be a tough one to prosecute.
Domestic violence was always a bad scene.
As the detective once again looked down at the huge block of Swiss cheese covered with blood, he knew his case was full of holes.

TOBY

No kind of job for a grown man.
Watching the machines that stole our future. Tanks of steel and vats, self churning, control the temperature, the consistency and the flavor.
Computers dictate the brining, the cheddaring, add the annatto with unwavering precision, no human could match.
I control only myself, for my sins, no more a part of this process than the fly stuck in this place with me.
But a man has to live, and so must I. Denied my birthright, a custodian of the curds, and whey.
I think I can sneak in a nap. Who’ll ever know?

STEVE

Writer’s block.
It hit Stanley like a ton of bricks. It was so easy when he was in his car, coming up with brilliant topics and soliloquies that would make Shakespeare say “Forsooth, you rock!”
But now, in front of his computer, he had nothing.
Nothing, that is, except that his protagonist was a magnanimous chunk of Swiss cheese named Carl.
Would Carl have magical powers? If so, what would they be?
That’s it! He can fly!
A half page in, Stanley re-read his work. His smile quickly faded.
Select all. Delete.
Swiss cheese in a story?
Too many holes.

MARK

The mold that will eventually give this cheese its name starts out a little green when you first open the package. Then, in the air, under the influence of some sort of oxygenation reaction that occurs while it warms up on a cool marble slab, the cracks and pocks go blue. The room begins to reek of feet and sour milk, but nevertheless, something in the air stimulates the parotids and forces a rush of saliva. You reach for a glass of red wine, and begin to decide between jazz and classical. Maybe there is an apple in the fridge.

LAIEANNA

I was really starting to stress over this week’s challenge. So I took a break and went down to the local carnival.
Lo and Behold, they were displaying a new game. Sitting on the dead grass was a big vat of melted Velveeta cheese with a man perched on top.
I paid my dues and started to hurl chunks of Swiss cheese at the little target on the side. Finally my pitches paid off with a bullseye and the man went down.
What was my prize for dunking Elisson in his own topic? Yep, a necklace of Limburger cheese. Great!

ANDREW IAN DODGE

“Cheese eating surrender Monkeys?” Gasped Clive. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Well it was coined several years ago for the French who seem to surrender to whomever they can…” I replied.
“So the local vicar is French?”
“Well no but I think he has a similar way of thinking…” I grunted. “I mean the idiot has publically said he wants a dialogue with the local Cthulhu cultists!”
“Oh,”
“Or it might be wanted, he announced to the local paper he was off to a meeting with them last night.”
“And…”
“He has not been heard from today…” I responded.

T A MARQUETTE

Who would have foreseen the bizarre chain of events upon the arrival of Patrick Michael Derry in our small-secluded wooded valley?
The depths of the farmer’s avarice was infectious. He stole a bride who in turn stole a child. The cry of the infant lured a nurse, who absconded with her mother’s cow.
The
braying lured a dog,
barking lured a cat,
mewing lured a rat.
Into the middle of the hamlet
strode the big cheese. He cried
“Good people of the dell
we must end this madness.
High Ho.” No one joined him.
Steely eyed the cheese stands alone.

KOLEK

Ah, this meal reminded him of home.
Garlic bread, lasagna with plenty of mozzarella cheese, and second helpings. Of course, he was not always leader of this company.
He frowned as he thought of the old days.
Menial labor, abusive, filthy conditions. Low pay. But now it was alright.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing, Luigi. How is the shipment going?”
“All is well, brother.”
Of course, he never got to this position for free.
He had to eliminate some goofy enemies, clean a path to success, and finally, take care of his former masters.
It always made Mario laugh to think he now owned Nintendo.

B

Fran was tired of cheese. 50 to 100 times a day, every day, except Tuesdays and Thursdays for the past 6 years. Cheese didn’t really bother her when she first took the job but now her yearning for variety was all consuming.
The next time she heard the word ‘cheese’, she would be thinking, ‘Eat me!’ Heck, she might even suggest it!
She was well past her 40th cheese of the day when she snapped. An innocent 3-year-old boy. She stuffed the Elmo puppet into his mouth and beat the floor with the camera.
She’d become…lactose intolerant.

ELISSON

The rough hands of a dozen troops dragged the shackled Knight before his grotesque captor.
Jinn pondered his situation ruefully. He had escaped from a horde of Imperial Stormtroopers only to stumble into the clutches of the infamous Jabba, the crime syndicate’s Big Cheese.
He even looked like a cheese, an overripe Brie that had sat outdoors on a hot day. Feh.
But Jabba the Huttvarti was a businessman above all else. And now, Jinn was competition.
As they hauled him toward the Matter Convertor, Queso-Gon Jinn, Swiss Knight, felt an extra-sharp pang of regret at having left the Cheddi.

CALEB

Sivan grew up poor but eventually worked his way up through cunning and ruthless business practices. He emigrated from northern Iraq to America and began working in Rocket Science making sure that NASA always gave contracts to his company… Or else.
You know how there were all those failed Mars expeditions in the 90’s? That’s because they didn’t go with Sivan’s company and extreme measures had to be taken. They’ve since learned their lesson. Sivan made enough on that racket to retire comfortably to Florida.
Yes, he’s gone from being just a humble Kurd to a rich, mellow Mars Capone.

CAROLINE

“Get orf my face with your disgusting socks.
“Ah good old gorgonzola”
“I’m telling Mum on you when she gets back.”
“What for? I didn’t do nuthin. She’ll whack me with the copper stick again.”
“Serve you right. For putting your feet on me head.”
“I’ll make you a cheese sarny.”
“What with brown sauce on?”
“Sure I will.”
“Awright then. Call it quitsies.”
“Oh good Mum your back guess what Derek did?”
“No idea, you tell me.”
“I didn’t do nuthin on purpose.”
“He made me a nice cheese sarny?”

LISA

Margo works harder than everyone else and she’ll be the first one to tell you about it. In fact, she complains a LOT: crappy shifts, lumpy chairs, messy people, I’m feeling sick, nobody listens to me.
Needless to say, Margo didn’t have a lot of “friends”. When she found a gift waiting in her cubicle for her one day, she was elated, though somewhat perplexed to find a package of cheese-slices inside. This continued four days with Brie, Camembert, Gouda, and cheddar.
A note in the last package explained everything:
“We thought you might like some cheese with your whine.”

RAHEL

The nearby deli had a special that morning: extra-sharp cheddar at a fantastic price. My favorite! I grabbed half a pound of it, a whole-wheat roll, some lettuce and mustard and headed in to work.
Half past noon found me in the kitchen, making a sandwich. Just then, my boss raced over.
“We’ve got a situation,” she puffed. “Our deadline’s just been moved up.”
And then she saw what I was doing.
“This is no time to be fooling around with cheese,” she said. “Move it!”
I sighed. Suddenly, inspiration struck.
And that is how I became a best-selling author.

Z

It was an honest mistake. Just one checkbox to the left.
Aaron thought he was signing up for Jews For Jesus on the online form, but the membership packet that showed up in the mail said Jews For Cheeses.
He tried to return the badge and get his money back, but a week later he got a brochure for the Museum of Lactose Tolerance, founded by Simon Wisemmenthaler.
One cheese-related charity after another signed Aaron up.
The strain eventually got to him. Massive coronary.
So, the Magen David Edam showed up, put him on a stretcher, and carried
him off.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #30 – Leaf

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Welcome to the thirtieth 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 Caroline from Quadra Island: Leaf.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
No rookies this week. I guess all those people reading the Pickle Tales who said they’d join in were just blowing smoke up my ass.
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 in the Weekly Challenge #30?
Elisson of blog d’Elisson
Caroline from Quadra Island
Laieanna of HodgePodge Point
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Beck from Incite
Caleb from The Black Tie Martini Club
T.A. Marquette of Footnote
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
B
Houston Keys from Tater Tots for the Masses
The Deranged Bard of Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!


The full text to each story…
CAROLINE
Shattered like a broken pot, two many pieces to put together, I sit under the tree, pondering my fate. He left yesterday, this time for good. I have to get out. I need to be alone. It is not autumn, yet the leaf gently floats down. It is quite brown, and fully formed. Perfect. I look up. The sunlight twinkles through winking at me. Winking! At a time like this? And yet, and yet through it all I feel a quiet peace enveloping me. I would be all right, more joy. Taking the leaf, I lightly run home.

LAIEANNA
It wasn’t long before Allie found just the right pattern to fit her need. And it was a beauty. Everyone loved Allie’s leaf. It was a mixture of yellow, gold, orange, red, and even a bit of remaining green. Her leaf was admired no matter where she went. Strangers were constantly coming up to her at all times of the day. It was even photographed for a local magazine. Never did she plan on having her leaf become such a crowd pleasure. For Allie, she just wanted the tattoo to mask large, ugly veins on the back of her hand.

LISA
In a coma for fifteen years, Janie shocked staff and her family when she started to move one day.
For the next three days, she’d open one eye, look around, and agitatedly moan, “leeeeaaaaf”. Her family brought in leaves for her, consulted with psychologists; nobody could figure out what Janie wanted.
Her sister arrived from overseas and finally solved the mystery. She went back to her parents’ home, to the room she’d shared with her sister and brought Janie the last thing she’d seen in her own bed back in 1981, a 16X20 glossy of Leif Garrett.
Janie finally smiled.

BECK
You have clearly lost your fucking mind.
You honestly mean to tell me that for the past thousand years, generation after generation of your family has trained for the day when they would be called upon by God to assassinate the Leader of the greatest nation on earth?
You are aware that the United States has not existed for one thousand years? Just checking.
It’s too bad the leaves aren’t falling thickly enough to conceal the evidence of your manifest failure. Turns out, two years of correspondence classes in Criminal Law trump a thousand years of training. Gotta love Capitalism.

CALEB
“Hi Honey I’m Home”
“I’m going back to mothers!”
“But Pumpkin…”
“You told me you’d reform. You told me you’d give up your violent ways!”
“Baby, ever since we got married I spend my days playing with the Angels and sprinkling fairy dust”
“More like playing with fairies and selling angel dust you mean! Gladys said you was high as a kite and stomping the village again. You know that kind of thing just gives giants a bad name!”
“But it wasn’t me…”
“So you didn’t destroy the Rosenblatz-O’Shaugnessy reception?”
“No.”
“Then why’s this table leaf stuck in your boot?”

TOM
“Rudy give me a hand with that bag of leaf,” said Larry. “Don’t you mean leaves the plural form of the noun. Such a lovely confluence of Scandinavian and Saxon linguistic bases noted by the interpolation of the v over the f ,” droned Rudy. “No this is leaf,” declared Larry opening the black garage bag to Rudy’s ever widening eyes. “WOWie” said Rudy. “No Santa Cruz Sens,” returned Larry, “Grown on the slopes of Loma Prieta repelled 200 feet down a cliff to pick it.” “By the way where’s David?” Larry asked. ” Dave’s not here man.” puffed Rudy

ELISSON
John Rolfe surveyed the plantation, arms akimbo, forehead beaded with sweat in the Virginia sun.
The new crop was doing well. Every year, the quality improved and yields increased. Feeding the new European craze was making Rolfe a rich man.
A good thing, too, he thought. Pocahontas, for all her being an Indian maiden, had become a high-maintenance wife. A real Jamestown American Princess, that one.
Who would have imagined that inhaling the smoke from burning leaves would be so pleasurable to so many?
Rolfe smiled, thinking: Centuries from now, they’ll still remember the man who brought Ganja-Farming to Virginia.

ANDREW
I was leafing through a dusty tome of mine as the leaves fell outside on a cool autumn day.
It was a book I had neglected for many years, one of chaos magic that could be turgid at times. The book was on my shelf for all to see next to my collection of quantum theory texts and my grimoires.
As I reached the end of the tome and turned to read about the author a leaf of paper gently floated onto my feet.
I picked it up and began to read.
“My dearest coleague…Ordo Templaris Chaoticus invites you to…”

B

Thanksgiving dinner and 10 unexpected additional guests. Where the hell was
she going to put everyone? Fran whispered to her husband, “Would you please leave the table as quickly as possible? We need the extra room.”
30 minutes later she asked her brother, “Would YOU please leave the table? There’s just not enough table space. Hurry!”
Dinner’s ready and so are the guests but no one had done what she’d asked! Lazy bunch of assholes!
Looking all over, she finally found her husband and brother in the den, ‘You could have at least put ONE fucking leaf in the table?’

HOUSTON KEYS

Dispatch Dallas 911.
Caller Help! I got a leaf problem!
Dispatch Ma’am, did you say a leaf problem?
Caller YES! See here, I was over at Horace’s place and he had some plants. I was feeling kind of freaky so I grabbed a handful and rolled ’em up and smoked ’em!
Dispatch Ma’am, you smoked some leaves? What kind were they?
Caller I don’t know. I tried to remember the rhyme, “Leaves of three, leave them be, leaves of five, get you high,” but I might have screwed up.
Dispatch You smoked some poison ivy?
Caller Yeah, I think so, I’m really itchin’ for some twinkies! Hurry! Hurry!

PLANET Z

Sam pulled out his gun and pointed to the topmost leaf on the old maple tree.
“I bet I can shoot that leaf,” said Sam.
“I can do you one better,” said Oliver.
He pulled out… a boomerang.
Sam laughed when Oilver threw the boomerang away from the tree, but wasn’t laughing when it clipped off the leaf on the final turn.
The boomerang fell into one of Oliver’s hands, and the leaf fell into the other.
“I win,” said Oliver.
Sam shot the leaf, blowing a hole in Oliver’s hand.
“That wasn’t the bet,” said Sam. “Pay up, asshole.”


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.)

Weekly Challenge #29 – Kinky

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Welcome to the twenty-ninth 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 Chris Doelle of Riding With The Window Down: Kinky.
Ten stories were submitted this week.
No rookies this week. I guess we don’t bathe enough.
And, as always, the usual madness by 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):

Which was the best story in Week 29?
Caroline from Quadra Island
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Andrew Ian Dodge of Dogeblogium
T.A. Marquette from Footnote
Cynthia
Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
B
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Rahel of Elms In The Yard
Beck from Incite
The Twisted Troubadour From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

The full text to each story…
CAROLINE

“Here Kinky come on. Kinky come on.” Still no sign of the Siamese with the kinky tail. Sarah went in feeling gutted. Kinky never stayed out late where on earth could he be.
She finally got ready for bed and with a sad face lay staring at the window. She tried to read. She tried to pray. When Derek came in wearing frilly panties on his head, a mop in one hand the other behind his back. She knew she was having a nightmare.
“What on earth….”
“You did say kinky.” he joked. Throwing the cat on her bed.
Caroline

CALEB

In the beginning there were a bunch of freaks who couldn’t hack Europe so they split and formed America.
it was a garden of eden,
But then it got a little set in its ways and some freaks who couldn’t hack that split and formed the Republic of Texas.
it too was a garden of Eden but then some politicians fucked it up real bad and it looked like it was going all to hell when one man, Governor Kinky Friedman came and restored Texas to her former glory.
After secession, the U.S. and Mexico became territories of our Republic.

ANDREW IAN DODGE

“Kinky is what it said on the advert,” Rupert sighed quietly.
The room he walked into was covered with people dressed in aquatic
outfits. There was a shark, a octopus, a lobster and various other
aquatics. There was a smattering of frogish like suits.
They were all in the middle having a group grope. Writhing in a dry pond.
Slightly sickened he continued to watch the kinky goings-on. No one cared.
Rupert had come here to see the frogs who were perched on top of the
females, Deep Ones impregnating their seed.
Using human’s bizarre tastes to continue their kind.

T.A. MARQUETTE

Dear Midget
The pilotlight of my passion has gone out. I can’t remember when I saw the White Buffalo last, hell I’d settle for a glimpse of the White Bunny. The joys of peanutbutter and Crisco are gone. I’ve sold the trapeze and removed all the eyebolts. The Martha Steward rubble sheets reside in the hope chest. Clamps, bungies, beads, zippered masks, ropes, rings and magnetos all gone to Goodwill. Might I need something kinky. I blanch at the mere mention, but I am desperate. What can I do to kink my straight arrow and get my mojo rising.
Signed
Mr UnHappy.

CYNTHIA

“On your knees, slave.” Julia commanded Roger as she smacked his naked ass with a riding crop.
Roger immediately dove towards the floor. His bare knees hit the floor with a thud, as they kissed the hardwood with passion, pain traveled up his thighs.
Julia circled him; with each step her stilettos clicked angrily. Roger had no idea what his mistress had in store for him tonight. As he thought about it, excitement rippled through his body.
Julia stood in front of him, steeped in latex from head to toe. She handed Roger a toothbrush and pointed towards the toilet.

LAIEANNA

It was time for a change! She had worn the same outfits for over thirty years. They never really reflected the woman she was inside.
First she bought a sleek red dress that showed off every curve. Then she got hair extensions and changed to jet black. Finally, she replaced her worn out glasses with a pair of contacts.
Now she was ready to snag the man she always wanted. He was leaning against the van when she sauntered up. Grabbing his ascot, she pulled his ear down to her lips. “Kinky,” she whispered and took him into the van.

B

“I don’t really want to do this. This can’t a good idea!” Fran told her friend.
“Just relax! It’ll be fine!” her friend said as she turned her attention to the young man standing beside her. “Go ahead and get started – I’m going to sit here and watch.”
Fran closed her eyes and imagined how her husband was going to kill her!
Two hours later, despite what she’d been through, Fran felt amazing and totally revitalized.
“I’m a new woman!” She squealed to her friend. “You were absolutely right, Jen. These new perms DON’T make your hair kinky at all!”

ELISSON

When Friedman bought a toupee, he got way more than he had bargained for.
He had wanted something in the Moe Howard vein: dark and straight. Instead, he got a rug that looked like it had been forcibly ripped from Lyle Lovett’s pate. Kinky.
Worse yet, the damn thing was alive. It would snuffle around the apartment, looking to escape. Finally it succeeded in getting out, doing unspeakable things all night before Friedman was able to track it down.
When Friedman found out that it had fucked the neighbor’s dog, he burned it. Goddamned perverted rug. Too kinky…even for Kinky.

RAHEL

When she was small, she would go with her mother to visit the neighbors down the hall. While the grownups talked, she would sit on the floor, petting their two cats: a purebred Rex named Kinky and a torbie named Rusty. She loved them both.
Then her family moved away. She never saw Kinky and Rusty again, but the couple next door had eleven cats. She spent a lot of time there until she went to college.
Today, her obsession continues, intensified. Her computer and digital camera overflow with cat pictures.
Kinky and Rusty created a monster. They never knew.

BECK

You think you know kinky? You don’t know kinky. I know kinky. Kinky is what’s going to happen in roughly two hours when my woman gets here. It’ll be fun. First, I’ll curse her for being late (doesn’t matter what time she gets in–she’ll be cursed regardless). Then I’ll tell her she has fifteen seconds to get naked and in bed. Then the whippings start.
Eventually, my arm will start to get tired, so I’ll have to bust out the sack of sawdust, the stuffed penguins, and a bushel of throat lozenges. The lozenges are for me. Don’t ask.

PLANET Z

Tom and Gladys were two chickens, needing to spice things up a bit, so they got a book.
“Kinky is having sex using just a feather,” read Tom “But using the whole chicken is… wrong? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“I’d think pulling out my feathers one by one would be wrong,” said Gladys. “Anything less than two whole chickens would be… I mean… I…”
“Just because I have a wooden leg, it doesn’t mean I’m not whole!” yelled Tom.
He stomped out of the henhouse angrily.
Gladys shrugged, put on her pig costume, and headed for the barn.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #28 – Halloween

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Welcome to the twenty-eighth 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 me: a Halloween Tale.
Thirteen stories were submitted this week.
Three wonderful rookies this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 28th Weekly Challenge?
Adam from Squirrel Bait Podcast
Linda
W. Edwin
Lisa of Lemons and Lollipops
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
B
T.A. Marquette from Footnote
Rahel of Elms In The Yard
Caroline from Quadra
Houston Keys
Ted from Ted’s Podcast
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
ADAM

He asked his sister what the topic was this week.
Receiving the answer, he sat down and began writing. He was a flurry of pencil on paper. Images of picnics, barbecues, and baseball games filled his head.
A creative little story was produced, about a boy who had proudly drilled a hole in his hot dog.
Given to his sister to review, she laughed until tears streamed down her face. He walked out of the room with his head down in shame when he realized his mistake.
“Oh,” he told his sister. “I thought you said ‘A Hollow Weenie Story.'”

LINDA

(NO TEXT SENT)

W. EDWIN

“What’s that sound?”
“Planet Saturn.”
“Creepy. It’s like -”
“What?”
“I dunno… I thought there wasn’t sound in space.”
“There isn’t. It’s just radio waves from Saturn’s magnetic field. The Cassini space probe recorded it. That’s all it is.”
But that wasn’t all. After Earth was dragged from her orbit, before her icy corpse met her ringed killer, humanity had long frozen.
They’d never understood the summons. The King of the Outer Dark, serene in the splendid remains of its previous meal, would never know, nor care, that they’d named it for the Titan who ate all lesser gods.

LISA

Buck was always trying “too hard”. He was the life of the Halloween party, wearing the most outrageous get-up, doing the craziest stunts. The guys got a big kick out of him, but the ladies were less than impressed.
Buck couldn’t understand why the women were avoiding him – his Tarzan costume showed off his spectacular physique, he won the apple-bobbing contest and was demonstrating his ability to tie a cherry stem with his tongue.
It was all for nothing, though. As Buck was leaving (alone) he whined, “But I tried so hard! All I wanted was a little Halloween tail.”

CALEB

The monster is out there again tonight….
A week ago he was alive and our rabbi and leader. Then he was brutally executed. Three days later, he came back a bloodthirsty zombie hungry for brains.
Of the thirty of us originally, only thirteen are left
I’ve been wearing yeast and water in my hair so I wouldn’t be kosher for Passover but the holiday will be gone when the sun goes down… any minute now.
Oh no! Here it comes!
“Brains!”
Jesus, it’s me your disciple, Sam!
“Brains!”
Wouldn’t you rather eat a Roman?
“Brains!”
No Jesus No! Aaaargh!
“Brains!”

ANDREW

If Christmas is a time to say ‘I love you’ then ‘Halloween’ is a time to say ‘I scare you.’
Except… therein lies a problem…
There are so many real world scares these days the imaginative ones seem to pale in comparision.
What with the North Korean Nutter with the bomb and Madman Imadinnerjacket trying to get one what’s some daft costume going to do?
All Hallow’s Eve is reduced to just another excuse for a piss-up and fancy-dress party.
Then again the Druids would love the fact we all get rat-arsed, dance like possesed and try to get laid.

LAIEANNA

“Oh my god,” Lisa wept as she watched the madman gut her. “What’s
happened here?”
“You were tortured and murdered.” Another voice responded, “And now
you’re a ghost.”
“I’m dead?” Anger suddenly rose inside her, “Then I can haunt the
bastard for doing this!” She swooped down on the man.
“Welcome home,” the psychopath smiled directly at her apparition.
“You have pretty eyes.” He scooped one out of her mangled face and
ate it.
Lisa recoiled in horror.
Another voice whispered, “I’m afraid he likes having our spirits
around and we seem to be bound here.”
Lisa couldn’t stop screaming.

B

Black widow spiders and huge green writing spiders all perfectly placed in gigantic webs stretching from post to post on her front porch. Huge cockroaches scattered here and there. The effect was eerie as hell; she was finally ready for Halloween.
She was giddy as she heard the first group coming up the stairs. This was her favorite part – the doorbell ringing and the shouts of trick-or-treat.
Nothing.
She would just peek out the window.
Fran later told the authorities that HER decorations were Earth friendly; no petroleum based plastic products. She didn’t want to contribute to the landfill problem!

T.A. MARQUETTE

Benny loved Halloween
It wasn’t so much the candy, as the costume.
This year he chose robot.
Making the rounds of the neighbor
It was hard to hold the candy bag,
still harder to walk
“Trick or Treat.” Growled Gary Good
the neighborhood bully.
Benny handed over the bag.
Laughing Gary Good gave Benny a shove.
He proceeded to flail about like an overturned turtle.
Next year on Halloween Gary Goods Father’s stingray hit a tree.
Three months in a comma for Gary Good.
Now the X bully moves and speaks like a spastic robot.
“Trick or treat.” Smiled Benny.

RAHEL

I found him on Hallowe’en night.
He was a tiny black kitten, skinny and barely able to walk. He gave a weak little mew as I picked him up.
As he grew into a sleek, lovely cat, he liked watching television, particularly the lottery drawings. He would sit with his eyes glued to the screen while his toys lay temporarily neglected.
One day, I decided to bring home a lottery card. Just to see what would happen.
He jumped on the table and rubbed up against it, purring. Then he started pointing with his paws.
Yes, that’s my Bentley outside.

CAROLINE

Sandy and Jamie went scrounging amongst the garbage as usual on 31Oct. All they knew was hunger and cold. Finding a mask, wings and some candy, they thought interesting! It was getting colder now. With Sandy wearing the mask and Jamie the wings they laughed at each other. As they laughed they grew less hungry and cold. They continued laughing until they couldn’t stop. Others came, joined in, until there was a large gathering. People all laughing. They laughed their heads off. They laughed their socks off. They took off their clothes and danced in the moonlight. Well it was Halloween.

HOUSTON KEYS

Our Hero had an odd taste for obscure cat blogs which tantalized him in a way that was un-natural.
Inspired by them, he began scouring the neighborhoods looking for a larger high. Finding cats in alleys and under houses and watching them for hours.
Or maybe… the cats were watching him.
Halloween night, as he was snuggled in his plain, boring bed he heard a scraping sound at his window.
He screamed in terror at first, and then stared in quiet fascination at a cat licking blissfully on the glass.
Until with a jingle of it’s tiny bell, it struck.

TED

(NO TEXT GIVEN)

PLANET Z

[LAY IT ON THICK] It was a dark and stormy night.
A howling wind whipped through the bare trees.
I walked up the foggy hill to the creepy mansion and knocked.
Slowly, the door creaked open.
[LON CHENEY] “Cliche Residence,” said a hollow voice.
[TRY TO IMITATE BOB NEWHART] I cleared my throat. “My car broke down, and… um…”
A tall, gaunt figure stepped out from the darkness. He was clad in a dusty, cobwebbed suit at least a century out of fashion. [LON CHENEY] “Our telephone is out,” he said. “Come inside. Warm yourself by the fire.” [CUT THE MUSIC HERE, CHANGE TO IRRITATION AND MOCKERY]
“No thank you,” I said, walking away from the door. “This is just too ridiculous.”


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.)

Weekly Challenge #27 – Pizza

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Welcome to the twenty-seventh 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 last week’s winner T.A. Marquette from Footnote: Pizza.
Fourteen stories were submitted this week.
Two rookies this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 27th Weekly Challenge?
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Gus from Rogue Radio
Patti
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Caroline
B
T.A. Marquette of Footnote
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Beck of Incite
P.J. from No Deep Thoughts
Kolek from The Kolektive
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
Chris Doelle from Riding With The Window Down
Ted from Ted’s Podcast
The Twisted Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
CALEB

“Addams Pizza, this is Pugsley speaking.”
“Mr. Addams, this is Mrs. Rittenhouse”
“Mrs. Rittenhouse! How was the Halloween party?”
“Your gourmet pizzas were a hit.”
“We do our best ma’am.”
“The tex-mex zombie pizzas with the seasoned ground beef and red and green peppers were a smash as were the bleu cheese skeleton pizzas.”
“Thank you”
“But I was confused by the southwest chicken black cat pizzas and the barbecue chicken vampire bat pizzas. They weren’t shaped like animals at all”
“There weren’t any chicken pizzas. Oops! I’ve got to go now. Larry is being careless with the ingredients again.”

GUS

As I sit, alone, in my chair, I wonder to myself, “What happened? I was using protection. How could a thing like this happen?” Yet even still, it was happening right before my eyes.
I hadn’t planned on it, but it was here and I knew I had to do something to end it early before it grew into a larger annoyance.
I pondered, “My first attempts failed; maybe if I remove it manually?” It was a gruesome thought, but it might work.
No, no, there has to be an easier answer. That’s it! I’ll just format the damn thing!

PATTI

The acne left awful scars. At thirty-five, she finally accepted the fact that her skin was as good as it would get. She tried every kind of make up available but, at best, it only toned down the permanent kaleidoscope of red blotches on her chin, her cheeks. The scars, like the holes left by miniature ice picks, were impossible to conceal.
She sat at home on a Friday night, eating a large cheese pizza by herself, and blamed her complexion on the fact that she didn’t have a boyfriend. But the real problem was that she was a bitch.

LISA

Luigi was a bit of a sicko growing up. He had a bad reputation by the time he reached his teens for pulling some pretty twisted shit. Now a bit older, he decided to put all that behind him and start a new life.
He worked hard to establish himself in the new city. His restaurant, “Luigi’s Pizzeria” – became “the place” to get your favorite pie.
Luigi couldn’t seem to escape his old urges though, even though he had been trying hard. The house specialty was sausage and cheese…unfortunately, his patrons knew little about the contents of that sausage.

CAROLINE

Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now
Send me the pizza boy baby
I gotta see him somehow
Ever since he came to my door my heart been’s pining I keep ordering more
I wanna see him and tell him and tell him I care, but when I go to the door there’s someone else there.
Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now
Send me the pizza boy baby
I gotta see him somehow
My friends all say that he’s left the town
I get upset and sit and frown
I order more pizza to see if its true
There’s a new pizza boy and he likes me too
Send me the pizza boy baby
Send me the pizza boy now

B

For the 96th day in a row – Tom came home to pizza.
Would this madness never end?
Fran was sitting at the table, perusing the weekly ads.
With resolve, Tom slapped two pieces of extra mushroom with banana peppers on his plate and sat across from Fran.
They eyed each other. Neither blinked.
He took a bite. His stomach recoiled.
Could a person regurgitate without ever having swallowed?
Tom finally realized his resistance was futile.
“I give up. You win.”
“Oh, good.” Fran said calmly. “That stainless steel model with 6 burners and convection oven is back on sale.”

TA MARQUETTE

“Next “the gavel crack echoed through the senate chamber.
“The senator from New York yields 45secs
to the senator from Illinois.”
“We tire of decisive partisan deadlock
Texas argues for beans. New Mexico without.
Massachusetts argues beans but Boston.
Hot Dogs, Hoagies, Hamburgers.
All notable contributions
to the American culinary tapestry,
but small in stature.
We need a food that symbolizes
the bigness of our country.
That food is pizza!
What could be more democratic?
Slice equality, red blooded American
sauces. A possibility of infinite toppings
It is the daily bread of our age.
Let Pizza be our National Food

LAIEANNA

Earthly Delight Pizza promised to be the most interesting of pizzas
and even came with a cautionary note.
All flavors are unique and intense. Eat at your own risk.
So I did.
The first slice tasted of desert sand and made me thirst for a Pepsi. The second tasted of rich soil with added pebble crunch. The third was fire, flames scorching my mouth. The fourth tasted like saltwater. So much so I thought I was drowning. Then it was the wind, cool and light. I even swallowed a bug. The last piece was pepperoni with olives.
I hate olives.

BECK

There is good pizza and there is bad pizza. Thin or thick; round or square; topped or plain; sauced or dry. There’s traditional, iconic pizza recognizable even to the most isolated, media starved aboriginal, and there’s unrecognizable nouveau creations. And I love them all.
As such, I have taken the only possible logical course of action and decreed in my will that my body be donated to pizza. And while I leave the ultimate decision to pizza, I would like to suggest allocation of my liver to the “premium toping” category. And my nipples make excellent pepperoni substitutes. Trust me.

PJ

Things were going pretty well with Paula and her new Beau
She could not believe such a catch of a guy was not already taken.
He opened the door for her, sent flowers, and even on occasion…cooked her dinner.
Surely, at last, this was “the one”
They laughed and cuddled and had begun planning a future together.
Then one evening her dreams were shattered.
Paula walked into the kitchen to find a horrible site.
What in the hell are you doing?
She screeched, then burst into tears.
Oh, this could never work now.
He had cut the pizza into squares.

KOLEK

Times have been tough for a while now.
The government controls everything: The media, food,
literature, history, everything.
This pizza I just got came from the black market. I risked
get my tongue cut off, but the rations just don’t provide enough
food. And ration food tastes horrible.
Anyway, there seems to be a resistance movement going on.
The people here seem to secretly support them, and the
resistance connects to agents among the people through the black market.
I did something for them once, and they gave me counterfeit ration
cards, which was cool.
Interestingly something…
Uh-oh… Gotta go…

HOUSTON KEYS

It was the pizza dude’s first delivery and he was nervous.
Grabbing the pizza, he raced for the door and banged furiously. He only had two minutes to go until it was a freebie.
The sound of trash cans falling and breaking glass in the alley caught his attention.
The customer was getting away!
The slob was surprisingly nimble, hurdling hedges with the pizza dude hot on his heels until a low chain link fence and a vicious rottweiler drug him down.
“Save me!” he screamed, “I’m too young to die!”
“That depends,” said the pizza dude, “What’s my tip?”

CHRIS DOELLE

The North Korean diplomat spoke quietly into the phone, “Two extra rarge meat rovers with extra mozzarerra. Mozarerra! No, you idiot – meat rovers with extra mozarerra.”
He hung up the phone and returned to Kim Jong Il’s office. “The package is being derivered Dear Reader.”
“EXCERRENT,” answered the madman wringing his hands “MY PRAN IS FARRING RIGHT INTO PRACE!”
“But Dear Reader, how will you get the American food past all the starving citizens? And your critics in America – how will you hide the fact that you are importing meat rovers pizzas?”
“WE COULD SET OFF A NUCREAR EXPROSION.”

TED

The pizza guy, Jaime, never caught the spinning, whirling dough which he had been tossing into the air. Jaime’s body hit the floor with a wet splat. The pizza dough hit the floor with a dull thud.
The pizzeria patrons were as nervous as an airborne big league pitcher flying solo.
“Oh, I’m sorry” said Cecil, as he holstered his .357 Magnum. “When I asked if you were ready to take my order, you shouldn’t have said “shoot”.”
“My bad” he said, as he walked out and headed down the street to the other Pizza joint.

PLANET Z

Lord Morgan wanted to live forever.
So, he makes a deal with The Devil. He’d get another week of life for every pizza he’d eat.
But they had to have toppings he’d never eaten before.
So, Morgan started with his favorite: simple pepperoni. Then sausage. Then mushrooms. Then…
He did the math, some painstaking research, and things went along smoothly for a few years, decades, centuries.
Morgan had to get really exotic after a while: rhinoceros, marmoset, platypus.
Ancient, exhausted – he yearned for his favorite again.
Pure, simple pepperoni.
“It was worth it,” he said, while descending to Hell.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #26 – Sleeping Disorder

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Welcome to the twenty-sixth 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 last week’s winner Laieanna from HodgePodge Point: Sleeping Disorder.
Ten stories were submitted this week.
One rookie this week. Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 26th Weekly Challenge?
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
John W.
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Houston Keys from Tater Tots
Caroline from Quadra
Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
Ted’s Podcast
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Kolek from Kolek
The Mad Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

The full text to each story…
T.A. MARQUETTE

I stair at the doorknob as I polish Master Simon’s blowing Ball. Later I’ll rearrange the newspapers and scrub out my latex boxer shorts.
I tried counting sheep earlier in the week but that just got Mr. Happy excited and you know how demanding that little guy can be.
Sometimes on sleepless night like this I wonder how different my life Would have been if I’d got that part in Pulp Fiction.
If I could dream, which I can’t cuss of this damn insomnia. I see me in a field of cover, surrounded by cute little pink bunnies.
Aaahhha Bunnies.

LISA:

In her twenty-five year practice, she’d never had a case like this. He exhibited all the classic signs of narcolepsy: overwhelming urges to sleep, excessive daytime sleepiness, involuntary loss of muscle tone, hallucinations, and brief episodes of paralysis. Yet, it was more complex; there was something else happening while he slept. He often awoke with uncharacteristic, inexplicable, hand-shaped welts across his face.
She decided to conduct further tests. He spent three days in a sleep lab, where the doctor and three female lab assistants made the novel diagnosis. Her findings were published later that year: First Documented Case of “Nympholepsy”.

ANDREW:

His doctor told him he suffered from a sleeping disorder brought on by stress and all he needed was relaxation. Clive knew better than that; his last visit to the sea was when it all began. His recent visions of discordance and apocalyptical scenes made Bosch’s vision seem childish.
Even the thought of the sea made Clive break out into a cold sweat. His nose was suffering hallucinations of brackish sea-water and fish.
Bathing himself and showers reminded him of sinking in the sea.
He eyed the water far below and jumped…diving into the cold embrace of the tidal river.

JOHN W.

It was midnight with the mowing – this time. Other times it was late night hammering and power tools, for months now. When nagged out of bed the neighbor’s house would become suddenly quiet; and I could get no answer.
My wife told me to be ready next time, and I was. When I leapt straight from my sleeping bag and into their yard I knew it was a mistake even before I saw the teeth.
Who would associate vampires with good housekeeping?
But I smiled, knowing my wife would come to see what the hell was taking me so long.

HOUSTON KEYS:

Tossing and turning all night had become an all too familiar routine and there was no end in sight.
I lay at night gripping my soft and fluffy feather filled friend longing for sleep’s sweet embrace. Finally I could take no more as years of my sleeping disorder had driven me to the brink of insanity.
It had to end.
I finally decided to end it all. I gave away my finest possession, my relaxed fit parachute pants.
I grabbed a pill bottle and downed the whole thing.
Unfortunately it was laxative, so it’s going to be a long night.

CAROLINE:

Sleepwalking wasn’t normally Harry’s style. How on earth did he get here, on the road, far from anywhere? He’d dreamt about Alicia. He couldn’t very well tell the wife that -they only discussed the weather these days. Alicia, his friend from the net he’d never met yet knew he’d like a lot if he ever plucked up the courage. In bright red disordered dressing gown and bare feet he slowly plodded home. His wife opened the front door. ‘Where on earth…’she began. Her eyes bulging as she saw it. On his forehead was a large A written in red lipstick.

LAIEANNA:

“What a honeymoon,” Donna sighed. Alex drank almost a whole bottle of wine by himself and was now snoring. Their very first night together and she was unpleasantly kept awake.
She covered her ears till he stopped. Finally there was no snoring, and no breathing. She stayed acutely aware until he started again. This happened all through the night and she grew deeply concerned. Later, he stopped for far to long. Donna freaked, leaping onto his stomach and pushing on his chest.
Alex grabbed her suddenly and laughed, “I knew I could get you on top of me that way!”

TED:

The harsh reality of life, is that we must and some point, endure sleep disorders. My most problematic symptom is not sleep paralysis, although that can be terrifying. What I have is worse. Sheep paralysis. I lie awake, counting the damn things, and every time, somewhere around # 46 or #47, one of the stupid things trips and bonks me on the head! Then I have to start all over again. It wouldn’t be so bad, but I just hate waking up and stepping in sheep poop. Once in awhile though, it can be a really nice eye opener.

CALEB:

Ted never could believe it wasn’t butter. He asked his wife again and again but she continually reassured him that it wasn’t butter.
It kept him up nights.
He eventually went to a sleep clinic but they too said that it wasn’t butter. Ted just couldn’t believe it or sleep.
Finally the sleeplessness drove him over the edge. Literally. He drowned in his car in Lake Superior. The autopsy showed, one last time, that it had never been butter. It had been meth-amphetamine with some salt and yellow food coloring.
Ted’s wife always did have a strange sense of humor.

KOLEK:

His exhaustion gnawed at him, for he could not fall asleep last night. Or any night before then. He wondered how he would avoid falling asleep at the wheel. Perhaps his sleep disorder would help him stay awake.
Probably not.
He blearily stared down the winding grey road and a thought came to him. No medication has helped him yet, or likely ever would, but this one would.
He thought for a moment, and then made up his mind. He swerved his vehicle into oncoming traffic and smiled.
Finally he would get some sleep. A deep, peaceful, untroubled sleep.

PLANET Z:

When Superman dreams of flying, does he fly?
Based on simple Physiology, we believe he shouldn’t. Most dream-capable organisms have evolved mechanisms in their brains that prevent muscular action while asleep or unscionscious, reducing neural signals to the periphery. All they end up doing is twitching or rolling a bit.
But then, somnambulism is the result of a subconscious malfunction, I remind myself, watching the snoring caped superhero waft crazily against the moonlit sky.
He tumbles, zigs, and grazes a building.
I hope he wakes up soon. I don’t know what’s worse – the damage he’s causing or those window-shattering snores.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #25 – Lounge

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Welcome to the twenty-fifth 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 last week’s winner Caleb Bullen: Lounge.
Seven stories were submitted this week.
No rookies this wee. Boo!
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 25th Weekly Challenge?
Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
Caroline from Quadra Island
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
Caleb from the Black Tie Martini Club
Rahel from Elms in the Yard
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
PJ from No Deep Thoughts
The Mad Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
CAROLINE

“Get into town and get some résumé’s in. It doesn’t matter where just go. If you lounge around in that bed any longer I’ll pour cold water on you head.” Yelled Nathan’s frustrated mother.
“I don’t have the money for the bus.”
“No excuses you’ve got a pair of legs. Look here’s $2 you’ll get the bus if you go now.”
Nathan arrived home in a taxi carrying an expensive looking guitar. Mum told him to leave right now. He did. He happily forgot to mention that he’d spent the $2 on lottery tickets and won the jackpot.

T.A. MARQUETTE

Morty and Ben run a small club outside of D. C.
One afternoon in walks Justice Sandra Day O’Connor carrying a guitar case.
Mort looks at Ben.
Ben looks at Mort.
They both look at Sandra.
“I’m looking for a new job as a lounge singer,” She says.
Mz O’Connor proceeds to deliver a gut wrenching rendition of the Beatles’ Yesterday.
She finishes Mort thanks her and tells her they will get in touch will her.
“Are you nuts that’s frign Sandra Day O’Connor” screams Ben.
Calmly Morty replies “Never book a judge by it cover.”

CALEB

A I like to lounge C#
D Lounge in a lounge A
A The price of drinks C#
B I usually can scrounge E
D Or maybe cash in E
A A favor or two D
A Lounge in a lounge E
E Just me and you A
A I like to play pool C#
D Or if there’s a band A
A I usually dance C#
B Given half a a chance E
D I look like a fool E
A But hey man that’s cool E
E I like to lounge in a lounge A
A A tavern’s okay C#
D So is a pub A
A Most bars are too loud C#
B Same thing with the clubs E
D A cabaret’s fine E
A If you’ve got the time E
E But I like to lounge
A In a lounge

LAIEANNA

For a lazy bastard, he was up early, lounging on the couch watching ESPN. God, another day of sports.
She grabbed the cleaning supplies, and sighed loudly for attention. Of course, there was no response. Another one woman day of chores.
Deliberately, she started with his surroundings…sweeping the rug, wiping equipment, and even sprinkling down dust from the fan.
He didn’t move. Fed up with his persistence to not help, she blocked his view. Still his eyes remained oddly fixed ahead, not blinking. Her hand came down hard on his cheek. Then she ran away hysterical. He was cold…and stiff.

RAHEL

When I found it lounging in the bathtub I held back a scream. (Do lizards hear?)
I thought of paging my friend’s furry lizard hunter, but he’s on another continent. No luck there.
Then I watched it lounge some more and wondered how on earth I was going to shower that night.
Later, I got my courage up and took some pictures of it.
Finally I caught it and released it outside.
I found another lounging in the kitchen sink the next week. They never stop.
They’re called “house geckos.” Sorry, fellas–no lounging around here. Out you go! Out!

ANDREW

It was called “the sea lounge” because it looked over the water near Bournemouth. It jutted quite a few feet over the sea on high cliff. It was this protrusion into the “sea realm” that so enraged the Deep Ones Front for the Protection of the Sea. The direct action group shunned the more secretive nature of their ancestors believing in taking “the war” to unbelieving land-people. The spectacular destruction of the Sea Lounge was their first act of aggression. They claimed responsibility in a rant to local radio that began with the words ‘Ia Ia Ftaggn Cthulhu! Heed!”

PJ

There was no expression on Paula’s face as she watched the flames engulf the Bayside Lounge.
As if in a trance, she stood quietly, oblivious to the activities around her.
The wind blew hot air into her face and smoke into her eyes, but still she stood.
Only moments before she was laughing and enjoying Friday Happy Hour with her friends.
Everyone had gotten out safely but were now pointing and whispering as if she had done something wrong.
This wasn’t her fault.
How could she have known daring a co-worker to light a fart could cause this much trouble?

PLANET Z

I stop by Casper’s Lounge for a drink.
There’s a woman at the bar, sipping bottled water.
She tells her story. I tell mine.
It turns out that her father ran over my father when we were both eight.
My dad was crossing the street when her dad was racing home to bring a
cake to her birthday party.
I remember spending my birthday in the hospital. The police said it was
a hit and run.
“Funny,” she says. “All these years, we never met up before.”
I pick up a bar stool and beat her to death with it.


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.)

Weekly Challenge #24 – Stone

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Welcome to the twenty-fourth 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 last week’s winner T.A. Marquette: Stone.
Fifteen stories were submitted this week.
One rookie this week. Yay!
Plus there’s an extra-special dedication to former competitor Marcus Tee
And, as always, the usual madness by 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 the 24th Weekly Challenge?
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Ted’s Podcast (no URL yet)
Caroline from Quadra
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Laieanna
Tomer Israeli the Ethnocentrist
T.A. Marquette of Footnote
Andrew from Dodgeblogium
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Rahel of Elms In The Yard
P.J. from No Deep Thoughts
Kolek from The Kolektive
Houston Keys from Tater Tots For The Masses
B
William
Laurence Simon
The Brain-Damaged Bard From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


The full text to each story…
CALEB

Ironically the people of PETS or People for the ethical treatment of stones, can’t abide by keeping stones as pets. They think they should all run free unfettered by man.
But I have a pet rock, and I’m not ashamed.
They’re a little hard to train at first. Why when I first got him, he would strain at the leash any time I tried taking him for a walk.
But then I took him to obedience school and now look at him.
Stony! Sit! Stay! Play dead! Roll over! Good Boy!
And you should see him fetch the morning paper.

TED’S PODCAST

Steve was born into proud family. Although his family didn’t have much, they knew where they came from. They were in fact, a cornerstone in their community. Steve’s brother Bob was quite successful in the catapult industry, so there was always pressure to do well, to make something of himself. To really be somebody.
It’s hard to become something you’re not, but Steve was determined. He had the genes. He was igneous. Although he lacked in viscosity, he was still born of magma. Steve was determined. Yes, one day, whatever it took, he would be taken for granite.

CAROLINE

Her marriage was great. Terry was loving, considerate and kind to the kids. From her friends perspective, she knew that much. What more could she want. Julie decided to take computer classes, showing Terry she could be more than just the nice little housewife and mother. She wanted him to be proud of her. It was their day out by themselves they walked around the old castle. She went alone to the top. She looked down. He was at his laptop. She knew what he was doing. The large stone in her hand would be enough. She let it fall.

LISA

Nathan had a gambling problem. This was why his girlfriend refused to marry him.
After a long period of reform, he presented Sylvie with a gorgeous ring. Feeling he’d redeemed himself, she accepted. Surely he couldn’t have afforded a stone this size if he’d still been gambling.
Sylvie took it to be cleaned. The presumptuous jeweller winked at her, “This is one of the finest Cubic Zirconia stones I’ve ever sold, you’d never know, would you?”
Later, sneaking home after a night of poker, Nathan found his mutilated belongings on the street, the ring on top. No explanations were necessary.

TOMER ISRAELI

NO TEXT SENT… kinda hard to hear… oh well.

STONE SOUP

There once was a famine.
People hoarded their food.
A soldier walked into their village
“No food here,” he was told. “Move along.”
“Can I make you some soup?”
Out came a cauldron, in went water.
With great ceremony he drew an ordinary stone
from a velvet bag and dropped it into the water.
“Mmmm,” said the soldier to himself quite loudly,
“I do like a tasty stone soup. BUT
stone soup with cabbage — better.”
A villager added a cabbage to the pot
Suddenly salt beef, potatoes,
onions, carrots, mushrooms appeared.
In the end there was food for all.

ANDREW IAN DODGE

The stone altar held the victim who had long since stopped resisting his bonds. He could see around but it was a blurry dream like vision. The man before him held a large ceremonial dagger the victim knew to be covered with ancient pre-deluvian symbols. He knew the chants that were wafting into his ears; knew them only too well as he’d sung them before the sacrifice of some unfortunate fellow. The chanting around him began to rise in volume, the guttural sounds becoming cacophonous with every word. Aziz would have sworn he heard it as it plunged towards his chest…

ELISSON

The summit was only fifty yards away. Sisyphus could practically taste it.
Heaving with all his strength, he struggled to keep pouring forward momentum into the massive round boulder. Droplets of sweat pattered in the dust around his feet.
Zeus, he could use a drink. But there would be no drink, no rest for him until he got that fucking boulder all the way to the top.
Ten more yards.
Suddenly, stabbing pain lanced through his left kidney. Gasping, he clutched his side and watched horrorstricken as the boulder rolled to the bottom.
Damn that stone. And damn that stone!

RAHEL

He awoke suddenly, his mind still hazy from the drug in his drink.
For one disoriented moment, he had no idea where he was. Then he saw the stone wall in front of him and stone walls on either side. When he tipped his head slightly backward, he saw the stone wall behind him.
He was lying on stone, too, his wrists and ankles held by four burly men. Even as he took this in, he saw the obsidian knife descending toward his chest.
He stayed calm, remembering that at times like these one always has a choice of attitude.

PJ

Looking around at her neighbor’s well manicured lawns, Paula decided she wanted to spruce things up a little bit.
She bought some plants at the local hardware store and spent the entire afternoon digging holes and planting an attractive assortment of greenery.
Then, she carefully chose just the right stepping stones and placed them in the dirt forming a lively little garden path.
Beautiful! Just like in a magazine” she smiled proudly.
The next morning (running late as usual) Paula caught her heel, then hit her head on those very stumbling blocks that she had so carefully created for herself.

KOLEK

Jebediah walked a stones throw along a stone lined path.
He threw a stone at a stone crab that had aroused his wrath.
He ate the stone crab and whatever’s at hand because he was stone broke,
a result of his hand being crushed years ago by a stony criminal bloke.
Rich folks, they wear stone-washed clothes to make a fashion statement,
But he was forced to wear old clothes ’cause he was no longer stonemason.
He cursed the bread, and went without meat and dreamed of precious stones,
And so he loved being stoned and being stone-deaf when living amongst the stones…

HOUSTON KEYS

The Sunday school teacher asked his class if they would like some bread. With a resounding yes they all cheered.
The teacher then gave each of them a round stone to emphasize the teachings of the Gospel of Matthew.
The teacher asked, “What kind of father gives you stones if you ask for bread?”
One of the kids piped up, “You would, you jerk!”
Taken aback by the sudden fury the teacher replied, “People who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”
The rest of his sayings were drowned out by a hail of stones thrown from angry little hands.

B

It can be a sound or smell that takes us back to a time or place.
The smell of Aramis cologne always made Fran retch when the wind wafted the stench in her direction. Bringing back ugly memories of a monster she should never have loved.
She would reach into her pocket when ugliness would press upon her. Her touchstone.
A small, white stone nature had inlaid with quartz in the shape of a Magnolia.
Magnolias meant “Be not discouraged; better days are coming.”
Moonlight had revealed it and as it did on that night, it always vanquished the ugliness.

WILLIAM

After Sherry’s fiancee, Sam, died in a gruesome winch mishap,
there remained the matter of selecting a gravestone.
When a consoling relative offered to make the arrangements,
Sherry was grateful to be spared that task.
“Just a modest stone”, she suggested, “with an appropriate message.”
On the day of the funeral, Sherry viewed the stone for the first time.
The words she read upon it struck her like an iceball to the side of the
head.
“Oh no! How AWFUL!”, she cried.
Deeply engraved into the stone, the epitaph read:
Here lies Sam,
Sherry tore his guts out.
RIP

LAURENCE SIMON

Battered and bruised from a nightmare of a weekend, Jesus remembered the advice his father gave him through the Angel Gabriel.
“Lift with the legs, not the arms,” said the angel. “Otherwise, you might get a hernia.”
“What if I wear a support garment under my robe?” asked Jesus.
“You might not always have one,” said the angel. “Trust in ergonomics.”
Breathing deeply, Jesus rubbed his belly until the pain subsided.
Then, he hunkered down, laid his shoulders into the stone, and thrusted with his legs until he could feel the heavy seal sliding from the front of his tomb.

PLANET Z

Don’t call Dwight “The Apeman” – he doesn’t like being called that.
Sure, it’s his last name. It spells out Apeman. And Apeman isn’t French or German or Swahili no matter how many dashes, umlauts, and squiggles you stick over it or dangle from it.
Then there’s the fact that Dwight physically resembles an ape-man hybrid. It’s as if his mother of father had a really good time in the Monkey House one night, or he escaped from some Mad Scientist’s lab.
Oh, and there’s the fact that he’ll brain you with his stone axe if you call him “Apeman.”


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 Oldield from the Tubular Bells II album.)