The 100 Word Stories Podcast

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!

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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.”

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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 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.

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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.)