Invasion – Chapter 8

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Kolek returns with the latest chapter from the Invasion Series:

… The beams of their flashlights showed a fine, orange dust floating in the air. It behaved like normal dust, except Steve, who was allergic to dust, did not sneeze.
The leader, Ninja One, filed that away in his head and continued to search for any objects, buttons, or recesses, but found none.
The unit withdrew and reported to Lisa, recommending that a more thorough search be done by forensics. Team Ninja was sent to do another job.
In the middle of his new mission, Ninja One remembered that he forgot to report the dust.
“Oh well, I’ll report it later.”

Cat’s Game

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Caleb of the Black Tie Martini Club has decided to spin this little ditty during the week for your amusement…

In the fight for supremacy between the Kangaroos and the Emperor Penguins it had all come down to this one final battle. The two combatants eyed each other coolly as they took their places in the arena.
Was there really no other way? Is it fair to determine so many fates with just one Kangaroo Versus one Penguin? The air was thick with the smell of fear; or was that eucalyptus and herring breath?
An Old Russian Blue in the corner smiled sagaciously with no worries. For she knew, in a battle of tic-tac-toe, it’s nearly always a cat’s game.

Roast Duck

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During the winter, the King’s servants and advisors moved into the central rooms to converse fuel.
The oddest couple was the pairing of the court wizard and the head chef.
One night, the alarm was raised: ice demons at the gate!
The wizard grabbed a spell book and raced to the fight.
Without looking, he flipped to the page with Firestorm.
He read off a recipe for Roasted Rosemary Duck instead.
“It’s a cookbook?” he muttered.
The chef handed him another book. “I think this is yours,” he said.
They won the fight, and feasted on Roast Duck to celebrate.

Zombie Blues

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I saw Mr. Wilson through the window screen
Noticed he was looking just a little bit green
And moldy ’round the edges. Then I started to freak
When I remembered that he had croaked last week.
Well, you know them zombies gotta eat dem brains
It’s the Standard Zombie Diet, in snow, sun or rain
Don’t go for no Grape-Nuts, no yogurt or pie
Just wanna eat your brains and make you die
O Zombies, keep the hell away
O Zombies, keep the hell away from me
I’m hiding in my zombie-proof basement
With my computer and my color TV

Confessor

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We’re not sure how he did it, but all of the evidence points to this guy who walked in and confessed to the murder.
There’s one problem, though. The murder took place in the Fifteenth Century. A simple assassination in Rome. A bishop history barely remembers.
Fingerprints, DNA, and a painting from the time confirm it’s him.
Not just a long-distant ancestor. It’s actually him. He did it.
There’s no statute of limitations on murder and he’s confessed to the crime, so we’re going ahead with the trial.
Maybe he’ll tell us how he did it. And maybe he won’t.

Unfresh Air

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Nobody says “Go outside for some fresh air” anymore. We’ve pumped so much crap into the sky, nobody can breathe without a filter bubble or a set of tanks.
A few other things have changed. Tunnels, domes, and electric vehicles. Also lots of genetically-engineered plants people hope will eat up all the chemicals in the air.
It’s not working. The air just gets worse and worse.
They could have put Wrigley Field under a dome, but the Cubs decided to just tear it down and build a new ballpark.
First year in it, they win the World Series.
Who knew?

Weekly Challenge #20 – Exposition

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Welcome to the twentieth 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 of the Black Tie Martini Club Oddcast: exposition.
Nine stories were submitted this week.
No rookies this week.rookies joined in.
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 favorite:

Who had the best story for the 20th Weekly Challenge?
Kolek from The Kolektive
Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Caroline from Quadra Island
T.A. Marquette from Footnote Podcast
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
Laieanna
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
P.J. from No Deep Thoughts
The Madman From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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.

Grow

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We only regrow accident victims. We don’t touch terminal diseases.
It’s hard to explain widespread cancer miraculously disappearing. But you can always say they’ve just come out of a coma after taking months to heal their “nonfatal” injuries.
Add a few scars, flash the memory – they’re back.
Now, sometimes the growth-accelerants fail to slow down when halted. We test for that, but sometimes an age spurt kinda kicks in.
As opposed to Peter Pans, who never grow old.
Ever wonder why some child stars die young from drugs or accidents?
Can’t have them living forever.
That’s what reruns are for.

She’s Hot

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Yeah, Janey’s hot compared to these other ugly, repulsive circus freaks.
But I think you need to know the whole story.
Did you notice that her profile says she likes cigarettes, but she says she’s a non-smoker?
Want to know why?
She uses them to burn herself. She’s got a whole bunch of scars on her arms.
That’s why her photo shows her wearing long sleeves.
There’s only one thing she likes more than burning herself with cigarettes.
Being held down by someone else while they burn her.
So, want her number, or would you rather date the fat chick?

The Witch Doctor

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I carried Bobby’s mangled corpse to the Witch Doctor, begging him to do something.
“Sure,” said the Witch Doctor. “Stand back.”
I stepped back and watched the Witch Doctor mix up various ingredients in a gigantic boiling pot.
He poured out the contents on the broken body and chanted some kind of magic spell.
An hour later, Bobby’s wounds were healed and broken bones were straightened.
Good as new. Almost.
“He’s not moving,” I said. “Is he alive?”
“Alive?” asked the Witch Doctor. “I’m sorry. I thought you were from the morticians’. You want this one alive? Man, you’re fucked.”