The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Four 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 Hey These Aren’t My Pants!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #135?
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/
	Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com
	Sougent from http://sladventures.sougent.com/
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Jeffrey from http://greathites.blogpspot.com/
	Norval Joe
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Ashley
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

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Eva Moon

“Hey these aren’t my pants!”
If you had asked me what my feelings might be, were I in a situation to utter those words, I would never have guessed “delighted.”
But that turned out to be exactly the case. After weeks of stringent dieting, self-denial and exhausting exercise, I was ready to meet my old college boyfriend. But when I went to put on the pencil-thin pants I’d bought just for the occasion, I couldn’t get them over my hips, much less, zipped.
I stood with tears in my eyes until I noticed I’d grabbed my son’s pants by mistake.

Anima

Oi!, these ain’t me trousers!
They’re mine.
You realize, it’s been six weeks since we returned from Scotland.
Think you can start talking normal again?
Lassie, I’m a MacShillysheigh~ a verra proud Highland clan, not to be
trifled with. ‘Ose pants are they?
Whatever.
When I married you, you were Jack Shay. Just because you found some
distant fourth cousins, all of the sudden you’re Braveheart.
Must you wear that ugly orange and purple plaid skirt and fur purse?
IT’S A KILT, SASSENACH!, AND SPORRAN!
Fine, kilt… Just so long as we agree who wears the pants in this family.

Sougent

It was hot in the laundry room, sweat dripped down the face of James
Robert as he labored over the mounds of laundry.
Oh, the indignities he suffered for the cause, he thought, as he surreptitiously made the exchange and left unnoticed.
The next day a man wakes up, puts on his pants but notices something is terribly wrong.
“Hey, these aren’t my pants!”
A confused President Lincoln wanders down the hallway mumbling.
For you see, James Robert, Jim Bob to his friends, was a special agent from the Confederate Psychological Warfare Department.
And that’s….. the rest of the story.

Justin

Sargent Slaughter slammed the magazine into his automatic rifle.
“Corporal Simon, bring my red vest!”
“Yes, Sir!”
The Corporal got the vest then gave it to the Sargent.
“Why do you wear a red vest into battle, sir?”
“So if I get shot, the red will hide the blood, and the soldiers wont lose
morale.”
The Sargent slung the rifle over his shoulder then walked out of the bunker.
The Corporal pointed.
“Private, bring me those pants!”
“Yes, Sir.”
The private brought them over.
“Here you go Corporal Simon, Sir.”
“Hey, these aren’t my pants, I need the brown ones!”

Jeffrey

This morning there was a war between myself and my body. You see my
body didn’t want to get out of bed, I was relentless. In the end I
won the war. However, my body did win some key battles and the loss
inflicted on both sides were severe. There were the normal ones of
course: the cold toes and eyes that will not open, legs that don’t
want to move and fumbling fingers. Then there were the usual ones,
the headache and backaches are new, the razor nicked face. But I did
win, hey wait these aren’t my pants.

Norval Joe

API, New York City
A newly found archive of recordings was found at the former recording site of
Folkway Records. An untitled excerp was found that is beleived to have been recorded
by folk singing legend, Bob Dillon. All that remained of what may have been a
complete, but unreleased song, is:
We laughed a lot, and then we cried,
our love was strong, but then it died,
So, she turned to me like she was in a trance,
and I said to her, “Hey, these aren’t my pants.”
It makes you wonder, what did we really miss out on?

Mary Elizabeth

A week had passed since Krista learned of her husband’s affair, and she
still hadn’t figured out how to confront him. She was hurt and angry, but
wasn’t sure she wanted her marriage to end.
Then out of the blue, a package arrived in the mail. The hotel where Scott
stayed on his last business trip was returning some items he had left
behind. Krista opened the small box and choked back a sob.
“How long has it been going on?” she demanded. Scott didn’t seem to
understand.
A scrap of lace landed in his lap. “These aren’t my panties.”

Ashley

Jeremy stumbled across the road and into a large camellia bush. Once
there, he began to dress in a rush.
Even though he was to marry Maragaret in two weeks, certain decorum was
expected in this small southern town. Her father’s big gun also helped.
Jeremy snatched his pants about half-way up before they stuck. “Hey,
these aren’t my pants,” he exclaimed and snatched them back off. Just
inside the liner was a clearly printed name, Jack Simpson, Margaret’s
first love.
Wondering about his future, Jeremy gazed up at Margaret’s window as a
cold breeze silently began to waft by.

Guy

Dwardlwuff The Troll looked around him in disgust. Those elves sure left their mess around. Ever since the mags had them sign those peace treaties, the trolls had to treat those darn elves nicely and even (oh – the horror), with respect. Dwardlwuff sure missed that amazingly delicious Elves Soup, and those Elves Snacks, oh… those Elves Snacks. Still, those elven maidens where nice, soft and friendly and inter-species copulation was looked at by the mags with enthusiastic approval. The troll started putting back his pants, then shrieked in pain, shock and horror. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” he exclaimed.

Tom

I heard of this competition in Texas, think it was called the Infidelity Olympics or whatever. The contest I remember was the Jump out of bed, pull on your pants, dive out the window. So I headed down to Amarillo and sign up in the novice category. I was doing pretty well until I discover the pants I grabbed had the zipper on the side. “Hey, these aren’t my pants!” I yelled just as the judge kicked open the door with a shotgun loaded with rock salt. Out the window I went in my Gloria Vanderbilt’s. Swan to the salt.

Planet Z

It is a tradition to announce promotions by running a soldier’s pants up the flagpole and making them climb the pole to get them back down.
I passed the sergeant’s exam with flying colors and I knew I was getting three bars soon. So when I was shaken awake at 5AM and told GO GET YOUR PANTS I jumped out of bed and ran for the flagpole.
As I climbed, I heard laughter instead of applauds as I reached… the skirt?
My promotion was coming tomorrow. The Commanding Officer’s secretary was getting hers today.
I slid down, angry as hell.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Thirty-Four 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 That One.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories of Weekly Challenge #134?
	Justin from http://www.thebeandom.com/spaceturtle
	Anima Zabaleta from http://zabbadabba.com
	Jeffrey from http://GreatHites.blogspot.com
	Ashley
	Eva Moon from http://evamoon.net/blog/
	Almo
	Norval Joe from http://www.norvalsoutlook.blogspot.com
	Guy David from http://www.guydavid.com/
	Tom from http://midi.libsyn.com/
	Mary from http://randomness-of-me-blog.blogspot.com/
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

---

Justin

Sad Betty crawled down the shelf. She walked across the aisle and stole a knife from a commando. He never paid any attention to her. She slunk back to her spot on the shelf. Beside her was Smiling Sarah. She giggled as the commando waved to her. When no one was looking, Betty pulled Sarah into the shadows.
“OK honey, you wanted a Sarah doll?”
“No mommy, I want that one!”
She pointed to a doll with a face that was slightly crooked. The doll was smiling. Behind, where no one could see, a doll with no face silently cried.

Norval Joe

The retirement home.
The old people sat in the dark and musty recreation room at the retirement home; the only modern thing in there was a wide-screen TV.
“Lets watch ‘I love Lucy’.”
“D’ya think they’ll give us mashed potatoes today?”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear”
“Turn the channel”
“No, I wanna watch this Chirapa thing.”
“It’s been canceled, turn on ‘I love Lucy'”
“Who’s got the remote, go back.”
“Shuddup, I can’t hear.”
“Go back to that Chirapa one.”
“What one?”
“Not that one, turn on ‘I love Lucy’.”
“The Lucy show was canceled, too.”
“I hope they give us mashed potatoes today!”.

Guy David

Chaketo Chirapa wandered amongst the corpses. None survived. That one was contemplative, this one hilarious, that other one his closest friend. He remembered the words of his mother:
“Eat your cereal, little Chaketo. You have a whole world to conquer”
He knew what he had to do. He turned on his communicator. He knew it would take many years for the massage to reach The Chirapa planet, but he could wait. He turned to leave, then hesitated. He turned dials, then he left. Behind him, the song of The Chirapa played one last time, before the underground tunnels sealed forever.

Tom

He kicked the tires, checked the cigarette lighter, adjusted the rearview mirror. The sale staff were unimpressed, that was until the Black Carbon American Express hit the counter, then two guys from the four floor race down to the showroom. “I’ll take that one.” Said the man glancing at the little red corvette. The model was from the year he was born. He was going to drive that car as fast and far as he could. It had always been time = money, now it was money = time. Hodgkin’s lymphoma = fast times fast cars and fast women.

Almo

George drove his truck toward Tom’s Turkey Farm and he thought about how different Thanksgiving was now that Congress had taken the restraints off the food industry. Hormones got the OK. Radiation, no problem.
George parked in the delivery area and wandered the yard. He paused occasionally to pet a bird. A young man came up and asked if George had decided. “Yes,” George said, “That one.”
The man took the bird away to be prepared. Soon after, the heavy steel crane lifted the turkey and the workers just managed to squeeze it into the bed of George’s pickup truck.

Eva Moon

Alma found herself unexpectedly perched atop the cabinet, panting wildly and clinging to the overhead light fixture. Bits of crumbled plaster and acoustic tile littered the floor. She glared down at the doctor.
She’d whacked her toe that morning and the pain had been getting worse all day. She finally made an appointment to have it checked. She told the doctor it was sore, but neither of them had realized quite how sore it was… Until he grasped her right big toe and flexed it.
Now he stood looking up at her in surprise. “Was it that one?” he asked.

Ashley

The transportation onto the pleasure planet Risa came unexpectedly.
Before either of the startled natives could react, he said, “I am James T. Kirk, captain of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Where are the green women? I need one for … recreation. There,” Kirk said, “I’ll take that one.”
Again, before either of the Risians could speak he stalked over, grasped a tall green hominid and left the room.
“Wasn’t that a self-motile squash that the captain just took,” said the first Risian to the other.
“Yes,” responded his companion, “apparently, great intelligence is not required to captain a Federation Starship.”

Jeffrey

Well it is that time of year a again folks. There is a nip in the air, time to put all the summer equipment away if you have not already. And then there is this.
“So sweetie what did you want?”
“Daddy, I found the one I wanted.”
“Really, which one is that.”
“The one with the red stripes and the pink horn.”
“Really? Don’t you think that one is a bit big for you?”
“Maybe, then how about this one?”
“Well that one is ok I guess.”
“Good, then that is the one I want. I want that one.”

Anima Zabaleta

Yesterday, Bob laughed in the wine shop –
“That one,” the clerk pointed to a Chardonnay/Semillon blend, “goes great with fish.”
“And Chirapa,” giggled Bob.
“How delicious,” he thought, ” Barbeque Chaketo, and a pyre of Chirapa in the tunnels… Chirapa had stolen his beloved Harriet; revenge would be his.
…
Now, Bob quaffed wine contentedly, listening to the sizzle of roasting flesh…
Was the fire buzzing?
Bob didn’t know, that, like the longleaf pine, Chirapa need fire to begin their alternate form of life.
Chirapa song filled his ears: thousands of alien sporazoa flew from the flames, craving blood…

Mary Elizabeth

“What do you think?”
“I’ve narrowed it down to two.”
“Are you going to decide today?”
“Very funny. I’m still not sure what I want.”
“Just choose one.”
“What if I choose wrong?”
“The world won’t end. How about this one?
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You need to make a decision.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“Flip a coin already. We don’t have all day.”
“Let me think.”
“Do you want me to decide for you?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Oh, yes I can. The waitress is getting annoyed, and I’m hungry. Excuse me, miss. He’ll take that one.”

Planet Z

I stood there, watching the lobsters crawl around the tank, their claws bound with rubber bands to keep them from fighting.
They were oblivious to my presence.
My Blackberry rang and crashed. It’s been having problems dropped calls and lockups.
One lobster was staring at me, tapping the glass with a claw.
It was as if… it was trying to tell me something.
“That one,” I said, pointing at it.
They took it out, and I put the phone by it.
With a few taps of its claw, the phone worked.
No dinner – I hired it as my assistant.