The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the thirty-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 Steve from iLaugh and he chose Rehab.
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 Weekly Challenge #34?
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast
	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
	Andrew of Dodgeblogium
	Caroline from Quadra
	T.A. Marquette of Footnote
	B
	Laieanna from HodgePodge Point
	Lee from Read Strange
	PJ from No Deep Thoughts
	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!

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The full text of each story:
ELISSON

Superman strained, sweat glistening on his brow. Nothing happened.
It had been two months since his last brush with Lex Luthor – ambushed in a cave lined with green kryptonite.
He was lucky to be alive – but he was still weak as a Super-kitten.
Sure, his X-ray vision was almost fully intact. He could even bend steel bars, leap buildings at a single bound. But not all of his muscles had recovered after eight weeks of rehab, and the wolf was at the door.
He tried again. Strain. Clink.
That takes care of the rent, he thought. I’m back!

CALEB

You told me to try art therapy; you said that playing a musical instrument would keep my mind off of my addiction and my hands busy. So I did.
I went for a walk along the sea side playing my axe when I heard someone playing along. I followed the sound and happened upon an octopus playing a xylophone.
So we jammed. Music knows no language; no inter-species bigotry.
And when I tell you about how I was horbgorbling along playing my sousaphone with a cephalopod, you want to keep me in rehab for an extra two months? I’m outraged!

LISA

“Hello, my name is Lisa.”
“Hello, Lisa.”
The crowd waited, anticipating more…
“Well, the holidays, and well, the little baby in the manger just looked so cute, all those lights, the music, my parents’ hopeful faces… I don’t know why I couldn’t control it, how it managed to seep into my brain. I can’t explain why or how I lost my reason. But it’s gone. All gone.”
After the meeting, she prepared herself for what was to come: three weeks of detox with a head full of electrodes, hooked up to the “de-jesus” machine at the Dawkins’ Atheist Rehab Centre.

ANDREW

Rehab, god I hate bloody rehab. I made the mistake of going last year.
Not because I was addicted to anything you see but for the schmoozing.
The damn place was full of music business types cleaning up because of
their employers latest campaign against drug use.
D.T.s didn’t stop the bragging about the girls and hitts, then there’s
Pete Doherty.
I never believed it but there is a lot of truth in believing that
people who behaved like arseholes on coke were no less arseholes
when they were sober.
Being in rehab damn near drove me to do drugs.

CAROLINE

Keeping up appearances was very important for the Brown’s. When John put himself in rehab, Mary kept up the sham that he was away on business. She even went for a week to her mothers on the pretext of visiting him. All was going well until he found out his dog had been hit by a car. He came out so that he could bury her. But half way through detox and unpredictable he ran through the neighbourhood in his PJ’s. Wearing only one sock and loudly proclaiming ‘diddle diddle dumpling my son John’ the game was up.

B

Granny’s addiction was getting way out of hand. At first, no one cared that she was hooked. The past 3 years had been her happiest since Grandpa passed away. Her depression had lifted as if by magic.
But the family had grown weary of having Granny hyped up all the time. Always anticipating her next fix. She no longer hosted holiday gatherings or made her signature cookies and pies, and, worst of all – she had ceased making quilts for the newborn grandchildren.
An intervention was in the works.
Fran called the Senior Travel Club….”Hello? I need to cancel a membership…..”

LAIEANNA

He stared outside the window, wishing his youth would return. The
substance did different things back then. It made him fly! What
changed? A girl. She wasn’t his first love, but she had shown him a
new use for the powder.
Friends hated his sour attitude. In no time, his boyish nature and
wild ways were reduced to a sad man huddled on the floor of a cold
manor.
Who knew pixie dust could become an addictive drug. The institute was
trying to help him quit, but he knew it was too late. He would never
go back to Neverland.

LEE

Five years after the operation, Lisa was still visiting her doctor.
“My eye doesn’t work.”
Dr. Borges sighed. “You’re eye works fine. Here, read these letters.”
“A-E-R-T-D-S-P-C”
“Told you. Eye works fine.”
“Eye does not work fine.”
“It does.”
“Doesn’t.”
“D…ok look. I’m gonna suggest you see a specialist friend of mine. There’s nothing else I can do for you.”
Lisa went home in a funk, made herself tea and picked up the phone.
“Rehab.”
“Hello, I’d like to make an appointment with Dr. Shank.”
“Specifically what for?”
Lisa took a deep breath. “Well, apparently, I have a blinking problem.”

PJ

Are you serious?
I don’t belong here!
But the woman who thought she was in charge of all things Paula had heard this all before… and only shook her head.
“It’s for your own good”, she said, in a condescending way.
Well..
The only thing Paula hated worse than being told what to do is being told what to do in a condescending way.
“Give me the credit cards dear, you’ll feel a lot better”, she sneered.
Paula quickly exited, leaving the now bloodied scissors on the floor behind her.
Shopping Addiction Rehab?
Shopping IS what makes her feel better.

Z

Hard drives die.
Memory banks forget.
Systems get infected with viruses.
Connections are healthy.
And so on.
As machinery becomes more lifelike, so does the terminology.
Take for instance, this robot. Ninth generation, limited artificial intelligence, but an extremely life-like carapace.
I mean skin.
We call it a “him.” We thank “him” for performing a task.
And if he fails to perform, we take him to the rehab clinic for rehabilitation, not the repair shop for diagnosis and calibration.
Of course, those with cybernetic prostheses now say they’re going in to the shop for repairs.
Fair’s fair, I suppose.

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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 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.

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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.)