Route 666

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Saint John Chrysostom once said that the road to Hell is paved with the skulls of priests.
Know what? It is. And those things’ll tear your tires up in less than a mile.
That’s why my truck has runflats.
I make this trip every few weeks for someone or another that wants me to grab a relative before they pass through the gates.
Few people know where the off-ramp is for Route 666, but if you’ve got the jack then I’ve got the beer.
Sure your daughter’s worth all this?
Okay, then – buckle up. It’s going to be rough.

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln 63

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“The bare sight of 50,000 armed and skilled black soldiers on the banks of the Mississippi would end the rebellion at once,” said Lincoln to his vice president.
“We don’t have that many,” said Johnson.
“How many do we have?” said Lincoln.
“Five,” said Johnson. “Maybe six. And they’re not well-trained at all.”
So Lincoln ordered 50,000 white soldiers to cover themselves with shoe polish.
General Robert E. Lee watched them through his spyglass, moaned.
The troops marched to a ford in the river and crossed.
The shoe polish had washed away.
“I see,” said Lee, and he ordered CHARGE!

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.)

They’re Driving Me Nuts

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Steve never made appointments. He just showed up at the doctor’s, barged past the receptionist, and walked into the examination room.
If it was occupied, he’d tell the patient to leave.
He was Steve, damnit it!
Dr. Parker sighed. “Well, you sure have a lot of balls showing up here like that.”
“Very funny,” said Steve, dropping his pants. “All I want to keep is two. Just two.”
“I told you before, I’d have to remove them all,” said the doctor. “But I could give you a pair of brass ones.”
Steve said no, and felt the sling cinch tighter.

Now It Puts Down The Pad Thai Or It Gets The Hose

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Tired with trying to figure out what He was thinking with the platypus, God decided to check the mail.
He walked up to The Wall and pulled a note through the stones.
“Oh dear god, what is that smell?”
God stepped back and sniffed.
Rotten… sweet… fish?
“Jesus!” he groaned, looking at His son. “What the Hell is that crap you’re wearing?”
“Wearing?” said Jesus. “Oh, no. I was working on a Pad Thai and… I must have splashed myself with the fish sauce!”
God grumbled, got out the hose, and said:”Now don’t go turning this into wine, kid…”

Me And My HALO

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Before, there were gangs and shootings. You wouldn’t last a block without getting roughed up.
But now, it’s quiet and peaceful. Lot of folks out walking, saying hello to each other.
And smiling. That’s one thing I missed before the old days – I missed all the smiling.
Everybody’s an angel with a HALO over their heads.
In addition to suppressing violent tendencies, they’re great as portable light sources.
I’m walking to the corner store for a gallon of milk. Maybe some gum.
Have you fixed my HALO? I’d hate for it to glitch.
Those Sentries can be rough on Heathens.

Testing Sam

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Mommy took Sam to Sears for new mittens, but he saw video games and ran over to play with them.
Usually, Mommy came after him and scolded him not to run away.
Not this time.
The game was boring, so Sam went back to where he ran away from Mommy.
She… wasn’t there.
Sam tugged on a clerk’s sleeve. “I’m lost.”
They announced Sam’s name over the speaker.
An hour went by. Two.
Sam also gave them his address and phone number.
Disconnected. An empty lot.
From inside a coat display, Mommy watched.
And tried not to laugh too loudly.

Bazooka

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There’s a Chassidic guy
With a patch on his eye
And a wad of gum to chew
You’ll forget your troubles
When you see kosher bubbles
They call him Bazooka Jew.
Oh, he’s used to stares
When he’s saying his prayers
‘N’ blowin’ bubbles, too –
Working his jaw
Like a mother-in-law,
My buddy, Bazooka Jew.
The rabbi said “It’s pretty weird –
But the gum doesn’t stick to his beard!”
He might be in Dallas
A-schleppin’ his tallis,
Or Fort Worth – or Timbuktu.
And now and again,
When I hear “Pop – amen!”
I know it’s Bazooka Jew.

Miss Honeypot

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Lisa tells a tale of… um… discovery?

Miss Honeypot was the most beloved kindergarten teacher at Bluestone School, always calm, sweet and exceptionally kind.
This last year had been rough personally for her, though; one of her cats died and her house had been expropriated by the government.
She kept up appearances, though. No one had any idea at school that Miss Honeypot was that close to reaching her breaking point.
That fateful day, the principal walked in after school to find Miss Honeypot leaned over a desk discovering exactly what it was about glue consumption that was so appealing to so many students over the years.

Crosstown Rivals

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Smithtown and Ft. Rileysburg had a nasty crosstown rivalry.
Football games were bloodbaths.
Bake sales were bloodbaths.
Even the bathhouses were bloodbaths.
So when Smithtown hung a horse thief, Ft. Rileysburg had to go and hang two of them.
Smithtown hung three railroad men who didn’t tip well.
Ft. Rileysburg hung a barbershop quartet just for “dressing dapper.”
The hangings escalated, and pretty soon every lamp post had a corpse swinging from it.
Then… no more hangings.
It was time for a bake sale. Everyone ran to their kitchens.
Word of advice: avoid the Kidney Pie.
You’ll thank me later.