Weekly Challenge #267 – “Ocean”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Seven, 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 Ocean

There’s an error with PollDaddy and WP-Polls at the moment, so here’s the authors for this week:

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Seaeaven

Hiking on the ocean is beautiful. After we set up camp at the end of a day, I went to gather wood for the fire.

“Be careful,” said the Scoutmaster. I listened to him about as much as I ever did.

I walked along the path, gathering wood. Rounding a bush, I almost ran into a black bear five feet away.

We stared at each other. Then, we each turned and ran in opposite directions.

That night, as I lay there, I knew every sound I heard was that bear looking for me. Even the waves crashing on the sand.

Guard13007

Could there ever be? Such a wonderful thing as the sea? The poem died after that, a stupid grin on my face. The ocean was so lovely, but I still couldn’t come up with a poem to encapsulate its wonders.

I walked down the street to the heavy wall blocking the beach from the city. Too bad I could never find a way around it, every time there was a way, the bodies showed the way to close it, and they always closed it quickly. Someday I will make it, I will get around to see the monsters for myself.

Tom

Danny Ocean was cool, well actually Frank Sinatra was cool. Here’s a man who pretty much puts Las Vegas on the map and he makes a movies about robbing said city. Talk about biting the hand that feeds you. That’s cool. Event the remake with George Clooney, Danny Ocean was cool. American’s have this love affair with heist films. We can resist the man with a plan. My personal favorite has Maximilian Schell in the Danny Ocean role with a plan to rob the Topkapi museum. What’s cool about every iteration of Danny Ocean is the plan does them in.

Kyle

I fell over the side of the boat and felt the cool ocean water embrace me.

Beneath me I saw a sea turtle. He gestured for me to follow. I swam down; the water rushed by like wind over my skin. I couldn’t believe how fast I was going.

My hands felt weird. I saw that there were webbed membranes forming between my fingers.

My feet stretched and my toes became flippers.

I felt calm.

I sped along and saw the turtle beside me. Our eyes met and I remembered my old friend.

I exhaled bubbles and I could breathe.

Zackmann

Martin was in the middle of the ocean which was really weird since there has been no ocean in
North Dakota for thousands of years.
He saw a squarish ship. Thankfully someone threw him a rope and pulled him out of the water.
On the deck an older man asked “Have you seen my son?” another said “Beware of ” Martin
asked “the one legged man?” “Don’t be silly boy, be ware of the hairy mango!” “What sort of a
ship is this?” Uniformed man said “Hello, I am Captain Cheyenne. I am afraid your stuck in a
story ark”

TJ

More than simple surveillance, Martin knew part of being a spy is
learning leveragable information. So it was with this dark motive he
targeted Chelsea Ocean, a senior. The mission he set for himself was to
discover intimate knowledge of her person and threaten to tell a geek,
so the geek would then seem to have intimate knowledge of her person. He
installed the video transmitter in the broken towel dispenser in the
girls lockerroom. Mission failure when the gym mistress, Miss Harch,
stood in front of that dispenser. However, he did learn Miss Harch
enjoyed watching the girls shower.

Daniel W.

“As it turned out, it wasn’t global warming that caused the ocean levels to rise; it was the return of Atlantis. The reappearance of the continent caused tsunamis and flooding along both coasts of the Atlantic Ocean–”

“Yes, yes – we know that,” the Senator snapped. “Your expedition was to find out how and why Atlantis returned.”

“According to the Atlantians, every five millennia a continent is set adrift through the multiverse, hopping from one dimension to the next at random intervals. When it returns, another takes its place…” I hesitated before delivering the bad news. “North America is next.”

TerrazaByte

SeaWorld in Orlando, FL is home to Bob & Tony, the smartest dolphins in the world. Yesterday, a famous oceanographer was testing his latest device that interprets the dolphins’ clicks and squeaks into an audible speech that we all can understand.
This device confirmed Bob & Tony’s true intelligence.

“Hey Sly, why do you think they keep calling us Bob & Tony?”

“Not sure Floppy Fin, they’re not the brightest of species that we’ve had the opportunity to train.”
“Now for this training session, let’s work on getting them to climb a ladder over our pool and serve us dinner.”

Monroe J.

The Ocean of Ideas is a rocky one. Rolling waves and cresting swells of ideas and concepts churn the deep fathoms of the subconscious. However, reality is a seagull that pecks you in the head distracting you from this Posidean rollercoaster. I swatted the gull away and I got hit starboard side by an idea for a story. I almost capsized. I altered my course and pointed the prow of my boat towards the glistening horizon determined to master this Ocean of Ideas. It was then I saw a friend whizz by in his clockwork speedboat. Ah dammit. Splash!

Norval Joe

Kelp swayed back and forth as the dark green water rose and fell among the pilings of the pier.
“You can’t talk to me, Skip,” Feruncula whispered. “You know my dad will flip if he sees us together.”
“Well, run away with me,” Skip said with unhindered enthusiasm. “Forget Daddy and come explore the oceans with me.”
“You know I can’t do that,” Feruncula said. “I’m a barnicle and your…. planton. Besides, I don’t love you.”
She must have seen the stricken look in his beady eyes.
“Don’t be sad,” she said, “there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Peisi

She sighed. The sight. A patch of blue embellished with tiny sparkling jewels of sunshine that twinkled like stars in the heat. A cloud of white stretching across the sky to form that parallel in the distance that never ceased to grow. As a child, she would watch it shimmer as she worked to bury her feet in the sand. She would lie on her back with her eyes closed as she willed for the salty waves to take her far away. But as the waters turned redder and herself older, she realized, that it was never going to happen.

S.T.N.M.

The oceans of Venus slip over my head. Finally, I can breathe properly again.

Raina slides into the thick atmosphere to my right. Her shape, like mine, resembles the long cylinder of a porpoise. Radar and telemetry keep us together despite the waves and currents of the thick atmosphere. I remember the fiction of my father’s youth.

“It’s like the orbital elevator ships are fishing,” I commoed.

Her right eye fixes on me. “The only thing to fish for in this hellhole is us.” A flick of her tail sends her toward base.

I still watch out for Venusian kraken.

Planet Z

In fourteen ninety-two
Columbus sailed
The ocean blue

That’s what your teachers would like you to believe.

Worthless rubbish.

He never went with his first three expeditions.

Too cowardly.

Instead, he paid off the harbormaster, and he was ferried out to the ship before it docked.

By the time the fourth voyage was ready to set out, Columbus wanted to see all the wonders of the New World with his own eyes, instead of relaying them secondhand from his explorers and sailors.

Bad idea.

Stranded in Jamaica for a year, his men told him “No more voyages, you incompetent fool.”

Weekly Challenge #266 – “Bugs”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Six, 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 Bugs

There’s an error with PollDaddy and WP-Polls at the moment, so here’s the authors for this week:

I’ll work on the polling bug later today, okay?

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Whiskey Day

If I had known it was the last time we would speak, I would have talked about something more significant than bugs. I look back on that conversation with a mix of curiosity and sadness. That such a mundane conversation, so banal and unworthy, would later take on the importance of the Last Words Spoken between us.

I hold each recalled phrase to the light, and examine every angle for deeper meaning. My desperation to see a missed clue will never be satisfied. They’re just words.

“I’ll call someone next week,” he lied.

I wish I could remember my reply.

TJ

Martin knew that spying required more than patience. He needed to manage
electronic surveillance as well. He set for himself a task of
overhearing something he wasn’t meant to. To this purpose, he tore
apart the innards of an old baby monitor from the shed, broke it down
and, consulting a circuitry schematic diagram in his physics textbook,
hooked the microphone and transmitter to a 9-volt battery and hid it in
his parents’ bedroom, with the receiver in his own. Mission
accomplished. The next morning he removed the bug, and set for himself a
new task: Unhearing his father’s safeword.

Norval Joe

Cans were stacked in corners of the living room and under the coffee table. He couldn’t just throw them away; they were a Christmas present from his mother. In January the anticipation was so intense he could hardly stand it. He marked off each day on the calendar until it arrived. When his first “Canned Ham of the Month” came he ate it ravenously. When February’s came, he made the seasoned meat last all month. When March’s present arrived, he twisted the little metal pin around the seal of the can. It had barely opened when the bugs swarmed out.

Tom

Bugs Bunny. Is that a rabbit with six legs or insect with long floppy ears? “What the hell are you talking about? Bugs Bunny is a Warner Brother’s cartoon character, he’s sort of Mickey Mouse with attitude. “Oh, he’s mouse shaped.” “No, he’s sort of people shaped.” “Why not call him Homo Bunny then?” “No one is going to watch a cartoon called Homo Bunny! He’s called Bugs because he is irritating, just like you. “I’m trying to get a modicum of specificity here, a rabbit who looks like a person, acts like a mouse with a personality of a scorpion

Yup. Stupid.

Zackmann

Tell me Bob, what do you think of new bug verses old bug. The New bug is safer and more
complicate and has a harder time functioning if broken than the old bug which is more
dangerous but more reliable than the new bug. The old bug came from Germany then people
started getting from Mexico and the new bug comes from Mexico but most people still think it
comes from Germany. Do you like the new bug or the old bug more? As you know Bob we will
likely have to sample both to produce this years flu shots.

Steven the Nuclear Man

Marcus’ fingers clung to the ceiling plaster, watching the the rotund mayor and short, compact priest. They always run to Rome when things get bad, he thought, tongue running over his fangs.

“Father, vampires exist.” The mayor wiped sweat from his brow. “They threatened -”

“That you had to give them someone every week or they’d drain your family instead. Standard tactic.” The priest frowned. “You made sure we aren’t observed?”

The mayor nodded. “My assistant swept for bugs.”

The priest began to speak, then Marcus dropped the bloodless mayor’s daughter on the desk.

“Not what he meant,” the vampire said.

Daniel

“Prepare the pesticide bombs, soldier,” I said, lowering the binoculars. I’ve been in many engagements against the bugs, though never successfully. We fought hard, but when this encounter was over, as usual, I was the only human survivor. Another city fell because of my failures.

“Why? Why kill everyone but me?” I sobbed in the depopulated ruins.

The swarm amassed, bug upon bug, into a humanoid shape. Tiny wings beat air through an artificial throat, and it/they spoke for the first time. “They die because it’s us or them, but your experiment created us; we will not kill our father.”

Planet Z

The irony of bugs in the control software for the cybernetic cockroaches caused Dr. Gregor to quietly laugh at his console before going back over the code and making the necessary corrections.

Using cockroach-mounted cameras and microphones, he had created the perfect espionage tool. Just crawl a few of these critters into a room and you could eavesdrop on a critical meeting or roam them over classified documents.

Simple and easy spycraft.

As for the unit that had been found in his assistant Olga’s shower, well, he was just testing the waterproofing compound on the microcircuitry and anti-fogging lenses on the tiny camera.

Weekly Challenge #265 – Pick Two

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Five, 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 Pick Two

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Tom

Oh those Crazy Rice Students are at it again. This time it’s Extreme Monopoly. The uptick is the fun money has been replaced with real money. And the downtick is it’s now a drinking game, land on a property do a shot of rum and Coca-Cola. Alpha Omega house is semi sponsoring the event along with Rudy’s Bail Bond. 200 yards of polypropylene has been duck tape to the entire bottom floor. The brothers from Chi Delta will have there 1920 ambulance parked in front in case we need a quick run to the RCM. Let the good times roll.

Zackmann

He walked into the school and heard someone inside the Vice principals office Scream “I’m Not
the One whose crazy. You’re the one whose crazy”
Oh Daddy thumbs up for bringing me the ink cartridge before schooltime. We need to print fliers
for our Monopoly tournament. This job has been a new beginning for me. I can’t wait until I can
introduce you to my supervisor whose currently practicing for his Suicidal Tendencies tribute
band.
I’ll take you go out for supper to celebrate and I’ll buy you Malabo Rum but I hope you can stop
at just two.

Daniel W.

“I can’t wait until schooltime!” she said.

“You realize you can jump ahead, right?” I generally skip schooltime – until I need knowledge, that is. Wish I could avoid worktime as easily…

“I do things in natural order. You know that!”

“Seriously, love, why don’t you choose to live in an era before time travel was invented? You’d fit in better there…”

Her fingers caressed my cheek. “Because I’d never see you again.”

How does she do that? Say the right words without several trial runs. I will never understand her, and I will always love her. I know, I’ve checked.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

“Sam!” my mom called. We had just moved into a three story house. I
went downstairs to help mom unpack. It would be a new beginning.
Later that day I went up to explore the third floor of the house.
There was a long hallway with two rooms on each side. At the end of
the hall there was a door. I went and opened it. There was a ladder
connected to the wall of the room. I looked up and saw a door, like
one you would see on the bottom of a tree house. I pushed. Locked.

I went back downstairs. “Hey mom, do you have the key to the attic?”
“Yes, why?” she replied.
“I wanted to see what’s up there.”
“Okay, one second.” she said. A little while later she handed me a key.
“Thanks mom.”
“You’re welcome.” she replied. I went back to the attic door.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” I unlocked the door and went in. it was
dark and cold in the attic but then I saw a game. “Monopoly?” I
reached out to take the box but I could not touch it. It was like a
ghost . “Well darn!”

Danny

I anxiously looked out the back window, Terri had just pulled into the parking lot. I opened the back door, Terri said “Hello, I have someone here who wants to meet you.” A little Maltese dog leaped toward me, held back only by his leash, so exited to see me. Fredrick ran into my house. When I picked up little Fredrick for the first time, I held him in my arms, he licked me on my chin and looked into my eyes, “Hello, Daddy.” What a fantastic way to start a new beginning, as Fredrick and I wander through life together.

TJ

His dad was against it. But from an early age, Martin knew he had the
right skills to become a spy. He was patient. He was observant. He could
sit comfortably nearly anywhere for hours. He was almost the exact
description someone would use to describe nondescript. At 16 he was just
old enough to look a little young to be in a bar, but his first real
piece of spy gear – a fake ID – covered that. His first undercover
mission for himself: Sit in a bar till closing, order a rum-and-Coke,
don’t get caught. Four hours later, mission accomplished.

Norval Joe

“Hosmer. Wendell,” The two boys heard their mother call from across the forest meadow. “It’s time to go.” The twins grabbed their gunny sacks, threw them over their shoulders and raced through the ankle high grass of the open field. “What’cha got there, boys?” Their father asked with a wary smile and a raised eyebrow. “Wild lawn gnomes,” Wendell said as the boys tipped the stunned creatures from the bags. They rolled around in confusion and searched for their little red hats. “Not again,” Their dad laughed. “Well, take two or three of the biggest and throw the rest back.”

Planet Z

Clarissa.

She counts her thumbs.

One. Two.

She has two thumbs.

Clarissa smiles.

Before the pills, she would sometimes count none.

Or one. Or three.

Or thousands.

The pills. The marvelous, magical pills.

The doctors made her better with those marvelous pills.

Green ones.
Pink ones.
Blue ones.
Black ones.

So many pills, so many colors.

She lines them up on the table by color, little rows of pills.

She smiles and twiddles her thumbs.

Her two thumbs.

One. Two.

She laughs.

That’s when she sees a pill… slowly… move.

The pill moved.
On its own.

Another pill moves.
And another.

Soon, all the pills are moving, weaving patterns of color on the table.

She counts her thumbs.

One. Two.

Screaming, she jabs them deep into her eyes.

Weekly Challenge #264 – Nasal Spray

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-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 “Nasal Spray”

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Ellie

She listened to her rapid, pounding heartbeat, heard her rasping breath and excessive, excruciating coughing echoing out into the air, saw her weakened hands shake and shudder. She felt awful.

It was her fault. It was always her fault. She’d insisted that she was ill, to get the sick leave she’d wanted.

Jerry never found about Rick, and every morning her husband left for work none the wiser about what went on after he left.

Of course, this meant she had to pretend to be sick, and actually use the medicine Jerry got her.

And now she’d overdosed. Fucking nasal spray.

Rah

Chalon and Nick were the best of friends.

Matching inhalers. Matching bifocals. Matching list of allergies.

Now they were sick together.

“We couldn’t! The germs!”

“Quiet Nick.”

Chalon is always the brave one, Nick thought.

“It’s our only hope of survival.”

Both stared at the bottle of Flonase.

“I had to forget mine, didn’t I?” Nick sighed.

“I’ll go first.” Chalon picked up the bottle and dosed.

“Now you.”

Nick started to refuse but saw the determination in Chalon’s eyes. With solemn gaze, he dosed.

They huddled together for the last moments until their mothers called them in for supper.

Zackmann

nasal spray
I never like to hear you wheezing
l never like to see you this way
I never want you on me sneezing
I only want to hear you breathing clearly, have some nasal spray
nasal spray
nasal spray
Oh baby I know I know it can be addictive but try some nasal spray
sometimes we all reach for the medicine cabinet for colds like yours today
I am not saying prayer cant help you
but God gave us nasal spray.
Achoo Achoo
Achoo Achoo
I only want to stop your wheezing, please have some nasal spray

AM Earley

June frantically, blindly, searched her purse. One robber had a gun to her head. The other trained a gun on her husband. No one watched her hands. She pulled out her nasal spray, aimed for the robber’s face and gave him two eyefulls in one blast. She easily subdued him, and called 911, as her husband knocked the other robber to the ground.
After the police arrived and the paperwork handled, June apologized for insisting on taking the shortcut.
“It didn’t ruin our anniversary, June. It reminded me why I love you, Mrs Badass.”

Steven the Nuclear Man

The alien sneezed onto my faceplate and Karen gagged. I shrugged in my spacesuit. “They think it’s weird we move air to communicate.” My suit was already translating the booger’s message for us. “With this planet’s wind, you couldn’t hear someone talking. The mucous transmission of pheromones – ”

“I have a doctorate in xenobiology; don’t mansplain it to me.”

I realized I’d blown any chance of a date – and then I saw the nude human. “Garner’s gone all nature hippie.” Garner approached one of the aliens.

Karen gasped. “Oh crap. He’s got allergies.”

Garner sneezed on the alien.

Chris the Nuclear Kid

I could not smell anything. As I walk through the door I felt something ooze from my nose. I turned to face the bathroom mirror and saw a glob of green. It oozed even faster getting bigger, then fell off. But, it was big as a basketball!

It started to wiggle, so I backed away. Then, as the thing took form, it looked like a humanoid. It started to move towards me, but I grabbed the nasal spray and sprayed the thing. After a while there was nothing but a puddle of green. Thank goodness there had been a drain.

Tom

Professor Amyl nitrite had unearthed an ancient scroll in a tomb in Southern China. After much analyzation by his colleagues the document was authenticated as the work of Sun Tzu author of the Art of War. What made this scroll so astonishing was that the descriptions within were absence from any existing version of the Art of War. The title of the scroll was the Art of Sneezing. It described how a warrior may use nasal spray to disarm an adversary. A rare spice from ShoeYang caused a strong irritation in the nose, but greater in the eyes. Sot bad.

Danny

Damn, these allergies. I’ve tried corticosteroid, topical decongestant, antihistamine, and natural saline nasal sprays, as well as a combined use of all sprays. Even with a combined use of all nasal sprays, it feels like I’m on a rollercoaster, the topical decongestant causes obscene swelling and damages the delicate mucous membranes in the nose, the corticosteroids reverse that swelling but dries out my nose, which the natural nasal sprays relieves. I’m certain the nasal spray companies have conspired together to make products that each create problems the other products solve. Then I finally realized, just get rid of the dog.

TJ

You’ve gotten them mixed up again.
I did not. Spencer Tracy was a detective.
No he wasn’t.
He wasn’t?
No, you’re thinking of Dick Tracy.
Dick Tracy was an actor.
No, Dick Tracy was a comic book detective from the 1930s. Spencer Tracy
was an actor.
Maybe Spencer Tracy played Dick Tracy?
No, that was Warren Beatty.
Oh, I see. Spencer Tracy was in “Gone With the Wind.”
No, he was in “Inherit the Wind.” Warren Beatty was in “Dick
Tracy.”
PLEASE! This is a family podcast.
*snort
Pardon me, but I’ve got to clean diet Coke off of …everything.

Norval Joe

Gilbert slammed his textbook shut with a curse and swiped at his watering eyes with the back of his sleeve.
“These allergies are going to make me fail my English final,” he sniffed wetly and searched for a Kleenex.
Throwing the soggy tissue into the waste basket he stumbled into the bathroom and found his roommate’s bottle of nasal spray.
The first day they shared the room, Gilbert promised to never touch his friends medication.
“Experimental,” Gilbert scoffed. “If it works for Jerry, it’ll work for me.”
Along with the antibodies to hold zombiism in recession came Jerry’s infectious germs.

Planet Z

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Hard times have hit the big top. The circus is coming to ruin.

The elephant’s allergies are acting up, and we can’t afford nasal spray.

The ringmaster’s pawned his rings, so he wears those black gloves all the time so his love, the bearded lady, don’t notice it.

Try the cotton candy… taste funny, don’t it? They’re using a cotton-poly blend now.

And the trapeze act out of Lebanon, The Flying Mohammeds, somehow they got on the No Fly List. Damn this 911 bullshit.

The caliope’s missin a few notes, and the goddamned clown car’s run out of gas.

Everybody get out and push.

Weekly Challenge #263 – “Toast”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

This is Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Three, 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 “Toast”

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Rah

“Female. 45 years old. Third degree burns on upper right arm.”

The skin was split, glossy.

Sizzling bacon. Popping fat.

Charred skin and yellow adipose tissue.

Burnt buttered toast.

Paul vomited.

Two years for an associate’s degree in nursing, working small jobs in off hours to pay the bills; his first assignment was burn ward.

“Another smoke break Paul?” the doctor asked. He chuckled and walked away.

Paul grunted and continued to watch traffic on the overpass. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips.

“Beats part-time at the Waffle House”, his roommate had commented this morning.

Yeah right, Paul thought.

Tom

Your toast Timmy.

I can explain Frankie.

Don’t think so, Big Louie

Isn’t pleased and when Louie

Is displeased dis isn’t good.

“Hows bout I just disappear.”

“Just what we zz had in mind”

Two pop Timmy hits the floor

Like Lewis in the 5th round.

Frankie folds Timmy’s arms

Cross this chest and places a lily in his hand.

Don’t he look peaceful mused Frankie

All Easter Sunday.

Two pop echo off the garage roof

Frankie tumbles into 47 Packard trunk

Little Rude tows a red blow on to Frankie’s chest.

Merry Chirstmas Frances.

From the shadows comes two pops.

AM Earley

“A toast to the newlywed couple.”

“A toast to our hockey team going to the playoffs.”

“No toast to our basketball team who lost the playoffs.”

“A moment of silence for all the victims of the tornados.”

The foursome didn’t say anything, but the room wasn’t silent. Twenty televisions still blasted away in the sports bar.

Ten minutes into their meal, all the televisions went out. Groans and yells persisted into the bar until the owner emerged from the back. “I can’t get anything on the computer to work. It’s all toast.”

“A toast to technology. It’s great, only when it works.”

Danny

Jack sat in his favorite chair in front of the fire, toasting his feet on a cold snowy evening at his remote cabin in the northwestern mountains. Satisfied with the results of his previous hunts, the meat was preserved and safely stored in his outdoor freezer. With supply cabinets full, and wild nuts picked earlier toasting by the fire, Jack was ready to settle in for the long winter ahead. With the wind howling outside, Jack knew that anyone caught in this storm would quickly be toast. He prayed for their safe passage, then fell asleep as the night closed in.

Zackmann

We need to fight the bad press Atkins gave the baked goods industry. My plan is to start
something called ToastCon. We will get people to come together and celebrate bread. When
people are in lines waiting to register we will bring them a breakfast of Toast with choice of
butter, honey, jam, or jelly. We will have women dressed as bread slices. Pan Panels about
baking, building your own toaster, bread in popular culture, and impact of bread on society.
Music by Throwing Toasters. The bread company CEO then interrupted saying “Wheat a minute
sir, will this really work?”

TJ Aman

When I see Dave and Rebecca here today I can’t help but cast my mind
back to where these crazy kids were just one year ago. Rebecca was just
a shy, wide-eyed kid at the checkout counter open to new life and new
possibilities. Who could’ve known that fateful day, she could be
ringing up the groceries of the man she would be spending the rest of
her life with? Certainly not Dave, who as it happens was sleeping with
me at the time, so welcome to marital bliss, Becky, and make sure your
shots are up to date. L’chaim.

Norval Joe

“Hey buddy,” Carl shouted; loud enough to be heard over the noisy crowd. “Can I get another stack of toast over here?”
“Hold your horses, pal,” the lead chef growled back, “we got a lot of people calling for the same thing. You’ll just have to wait your turn.”
It was true. Several cooks rushed about and handed out toast as quick as they could pull it from the dozen toasters lined up on the work bench.
“Whatever,” Carl said. “I only have half this roof shingled. If it rains before I get done, your the ones who’ll be sorry.”

Planet Z

Curiosity killed the cat, and nearly everybody else with it.

You see, I grew up hearing that the buttered side of the toast always lands face down.

And cats always land on their feet.

So, I taped some buttered toast to the back of a cat and dropped it.

What a fool I was.

The barrier between our world and dreams came down, torn apart by the quantum storms. Shadows reached out from the darkness, the walls

Millions… billions of lives lost because I just had to mess around with elemental forces.

Not that there’s much left, but I will never play with my food ever again.

Weekly Challenge #262 – “There he is!” and “Rebirth” and “When Hell Freezes Over”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-Two, 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 “There he is!” and “Rebirth” and “When Hell Freezes Over”

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


DC

“He’s here, he’s here!” the crowd hurrahed. “The King is reborn,”

“I told you, Myra. I told you he’d one day rise from the ashes.”

“Bah. From cheese burger wrappers and empty chip bags, is more like it.”

“Sacrilege,” shrieked a leathery skinned woman sporting a bedazzled tracksuit and bleached bouffant. She pointed a nicotine stained finger at Myra.

“Aw, Don’t pay any attention to my wife. She’s just bitter. She always said he’d rise when hell freezes over.”

“She doubted The King?”

A hush fell over the crowd as He floated onto stage. “Thank yuh, Thank yuh very much.”

Norval Joe

“Well, there he is. Just as she said he would be. My replacement,” Oswald muttered into his cold cup of coffee.
He slouched down in the cafe’s booth, peered through the street front window, and watched him kiss her.
“She said I didn’t have the cajonies to do anything about it. That hell would freeze over before I took a stand. But she hadn’t counted on my rebirth, the ‘new me’,” he said as he stood and charged out the cafe door. Just in time to see them board a taxi and drive off.
Oswald wondered, “is redeath a word?”

Zackmann

Look there he is, the guy who played Jonathon Coultons “First of May” on the Radio. Although
indie has caused the rebirth of music, I doubt that guy will get the his job back until about half
past when hell freezes over. Wait newspaper says it was the producers error not reading
explicit tags before converting older podcasts into radio shows. I sure hope he listens to the
shows like the episode with songs from Mike Yusis and Mark Yoshimo Nemcoffs musical that
must not be named before he thinks about putting any more shows directly on the radio again.

Nick J

My first killing blow had missed.

I cursed my nocturnally dulled reflexes.

The element of surprise was lost; my victim, forewarned and alert, was now concealed in pools of shadow.

He could hide in inaccessible places, hoping to outlast me.

This was not my first kill, I knew how this deadly game was played.

I must act silently. Noise would rouse new enemies.

I froze, listening intently. Blood hissed in my ears. I moved, warily, in stop frame motion, to flush him out.

There!

I triumphantly raised my newspaper for the messy denouement.

Eventually the insomniac always beats the fly.

Tom

Is that him?

I do not think so.

Over there?

Nope!

A figure built like a barrel hauler charges forward across the forum towards the colonnades.

“There he is,” said Raphael

Michelangelo was the symbol of Medici. Artistic rebirth

He waved his massive hands at the papal emissary.

“A Fresco, do I look like a painter to you?”

“Tell Most Holiness he’ll

Get his fresco when hell

freezes over.

He gives Raphael the finger as he passes.

Raphael raises his hand into the air

“I feel a drop in the temperature.”

And look there is Lucifer

skating cross the Rubicon.”

Danny

There he is! I was shocked; I assumed nobody could find me. What an ass I truly am. The chase began the leader of the “Rebirth” movement, created to show that Obama was indeed never born in America, has since failed. Now reduced to fox being chased by beagles in a horrific old world hunt, and my response to the situation? You beagles will catch me “when Hell Freezes Over!” AND, Hell will freeze over, just as soon as the continental ice shelf builds back up over the bulk of the continental United States of America. Say Halleluiah, say Amen!

Terrazabyte

A blank canvas sits on my drawing table begging to be used.
Each colorful tube of paint sitting nearby pleads their case to be first in use.

Blue speaks up and says, “Use me first, for I’m the color of sky”.
Green speaks next, “Use me, for I’m the color of the trees”.
Brown interrupts, “I should be first since I’m the color of Earth”.

They all begin to argue & fight as paint spews out toward the canvas covering the pristine surface.
The canvas yells “STOP, look what you’ve done!
Your colors mixed and blended upon me.

TJ

My directive was clear – use discretion, no flash photography.

But I’d ridden these rails before and the spot the two men had chosen
to rendezvous – between their two passenger cars while in the
Lourgnette tunnel – there’d be a split second of daylight as the
train passed beneath the airvent.

Above them, in the luggage compartment, I waited. Just as I’d
predicted, a shaft of sunlight illuminated the little chamber.

There he was, Minister Bergdorf, and the suspected corporate spy and
influence peddler. A whish of my cameraphone, and they were on the
Times-Register’s news site before they’d even stopped kissing.

Planet Z

Years ago, Bob Carson said it would be a cold day in Hell when he’d go to my Rebirth Clinic.

“It’s better than the alternative,” I said. “I feel great. Customer for life.”

That’s the motto: Customer for life.

You have to take the pills every day to live.

Haven’t seen him since. Until today.

Bob Carson. Outside of my clinic.

I walk out to his car. “Ready for the treatment?” I ask.

“You ran over my dog,” he said. “Almost hit my son.”

I see his gun. “Get in.”

He’s locked me in the basement.

It’s cold in here.

Weekly Challenge #261 – “Stupid Computer”

Welcome to the 100 Word Stories podcast at podcasting.isfullofcrap.com. I’m your host, Laurence Simon.

Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty-one, 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 Stupid Computer!

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


TJ

Between Big Blue and Watson and Google’s auto-complete algorithms
people were getting a bit nervous about smart computers, so we’ve
developed a stupid computer with the attention span of a teenager. It
records personal information and then prompts your memory by asking you
things like “Didn’t you have something at like 2:30 today? The
dentist, maybe?” reminding you you’re out of eggs when you’re
already through the checkout counter, and calling your cellphone to
check someone’s phone number. It’s not the most helpful machine, but
using it will certainly improve your memory, out of necessity, and if
only by comparison.

DC

“My stupid computer. It’s slow, it’s useless. It tells me it’s doing one thing when it’s really doing another.” Distracted, I nodded in a way I hoped conveyed sympathy. She continued, “It looks like shit. It’s constantly getting viruses. It craps out at the most inopportune times. It is almost like it’s purposely being difficult.”

“So get rid of it.”

“I’ve grown attached…”

“That’s dumb.”

She looked at me, her face reflecting thoughts I couldn’t be bothered to read. “Is that how you deal with things that are no longer working?”

“Absolutely.”

“I see.”

And then so did I.

Tom

Stupid Computer. Piece of garbage. Rudy opens the leather violin case. The shinning metal flashed in his steel gray eyes. He grabs the Maxwell’s Silver Hammer silver hammer and brings it down on the center of the keyboard. He smashes the monitor, pulverizes the mouse, crashes the case and flattens the CPU like a raw veal cutlet. Dropping the hammer with both hands he throws the broken remains through the window. Glass flies everywhere. When the fury passes Rudy calmly return the fine tuning instrument back into the violin case. He heads down the street to his next unexpecting customer.

Danny

Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of the Tekken 3000 home robotic unit. This little mechanical humanoid can do it all, cook, clean, walk the dog, prepare the taxes, run your business. Tekken 3000 can work indoors, outdoors, Even in outer space! I brought my Tekken 3000 home, and it was wonderful! The first night, my robot, I named him Robbie, did everything listed in the advertisement, and more. Robbie, my new best friend. The next morning, Robbie hooked up to the internet via a USB port to update his Windows Vista software, was promptly infected with a virus, and exploded. Stupid computer.

Zackmann

Doc you got to help me. I thought it would be so cool to have a computer in my head so no one
would know that when I was looking at them I was really watching youtube or listen to podcasts
inside my head. Now it is taking over my entire life and making me miserable. Whenever I
eat sweets or forget to pay a bill before the first due date, it plays reality TV shows. If I lie to
a woman it plays lifetime movies all night when I try do sleep. Doc please remove this stupid
computer now.

Steven the Nuclear Man

I love her.

She caresses me with her fingers. Fast, then slow, then fast again. Slides them across the planes of my form.

I love her.

She tells me what to do, commands me. She is my mistress, my ruler, and I will always submit to her.

I love her.

I surprise her. She is puzzled at the strange shipments from Amazon. She wonders at the gorgeous photographs I show her. She laughs at the LOLcats.

I love her.

Even as she as she defrags me, as she reaches out to turn me off and unplug me.

I love her.

———————–

The poet stood before the computer. “You can fool their Turing tests, but that’s nothing.”

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

The poet held out the small drive. “My poetry. Poetry is human. Poetry is being alive.” He inserted the drive into the computer’s port. “Analyze that, you stupid machine.”

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

The poet reached the door before the speakers came to life. “You use metaphors of snow in your early work, rain later.”

“Frequency analysis. Trivial.”

“Snow covers, obscures, hides. Children laugh and play in it. Ugly things turn beautiful under the snow, but they are still there, just a crunching footstep away. People hide from rain, take shelter under umbrellas. They complain about the wet and the mud. Everyone wishes for a White Christmas; no-one cares for a rainy Easter.”

“Still just recall-”

“Snow obscures, but does not change anything. As snow melts, that left behind is ugly and tinged with cinders and salt. Nothing changes. When rain leaves, it is messy and muddy. But it is clean and fresh. New things can grow.”

“That’s not what they mean,” the poet said.

The computer whirred, beeped, and hummed.

“Then why are you crying?”

AM Earley

Glen wasn’t sure about the independent computer store. The young salesman was so friendly, helpful and plain spoken. Glen
could see this store earned its nice reputation. But Glen still had one question, “Why is this store named “Stupid
Computer”?”
“Computers are stupid because they only do what they are told. We fix them to do what their owner wants.”
As Glen left, he heard laughter coming from the stockroom. “Have a good day,” the salesman’s words stopped the laughter.
Glen didn’t know what the joke he missed was, and he didn’t want to know.

Norval Joe

“Spirit Leader. Og need advice,” the clan chief said and crouched before the old man.
“Speak Og,” the spirit leader grunted.
“Winter come. We stay, or find warmer place?”
“How much food you have?”
“One mammoth, three bison,” the clan chief said.
“How many people?”
“Clan have thirty-eight people.”
“I speak to ancestors,” the spirit leader said and removed several worn finger bones from a leather pouch. He rolled them between his hands and cast them into the dirt. He stared in silent dismay.
“What say ancestors?” Og asked.
“Ancestors say, “Error 326. Missing array parameter.”
“Og say, ‘Stupid computer’.”

Planet Z

I turned on the computer, checked email, and then went to the feeds.

“Like Kryptonite To Stupid” was one of the taglines I saw.

After reading this jackass’ drivel for a bit, I mumbled “More like ‘Like Magnet to Stupid’ there.” and I shut things down.

I started to wonder if there was only so much intelligence to go around, and with the explosion in data storage and clouds and server farms, if things weren’t being spread too thin these days.

I squeezed into my Hummer, drove to McDonalds, and let the car idle as I ate 5 Egg McMuffins.

Weekly Challenge #260 – “Be Italian!”

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Sixty, 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 Be Italian!

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Tom

Be Italian
Take a chance and try to steal a fiery kiss
That’s what mama said
Bambino that how you’ll get ahead
Drink the wine and drive the line
Be a lover undercover
Do not regress always that the leap
When you dead Bambino you can sleep
So I drive this spider as hard as I may
Never look back along the way
Seize the darkness Seize the day
Take my hand
Take my heart
Take a chance
Let it start
Put the petal
To the metal
We were born to go fast
Live today as if it may become your last

Zackmann

Why are you guys dressed up with the cowboy hats and chaps looking like the singers on the
Mexican cable television network?
But we were supposed to be Italian because we are making a movie.
Why you are throwing noodles at each other and why your brother isn’t with you?
He said it was a sacrilege. He has been so much less fun after he got religion. You would think
a Pastafarian would have a sense of humor
Although you guys seem to be having fun, I don’t think you get the whole concept of the
spaghetti western.

You look like heck. What happen to your face? Nice Shiner.
I happened to be a crowed commuter train and these two Italian guys were talking and I was the
only one who didn’t understand that there was good reason the seat between the talking Italians
was empty.
Will you get revenge on the guy who hit you in the eye?
No, I think he is a nice guy but just in case I have to sit next to him again I am buying him a copy
of Jim Lavriola’s How to Talk Italian Without Using Your Hands.

AM Earley

“Mr. Napoli, I know you want all your son-in-laws to be Italian,” John stated in fluent Italian to his future father-in-law. “I am African-American, but I was born and raised in Italy on a US Air Base.” The father conceded his first criteria. “I can provide for your daughter. I have a very good job in software development.” After more description the father conceded the second criteria. “As for having something in common with yourself, I know you embezzled money from the mob. I however will return your money after the wedding.”

Todd

I touched the “Be Italian!” button. There was a soft click and the smell of brimstone filled the tiny booth.

My freckled skin turned olive, then slightly orange. The paunch of my stomach transformed into a six pack. My curly red hair straightened, darkened, highlighted blond, and finally spiked.

Before I could hit the Cancel button, the lights dimmed and a mirror ball lowered from the ceiling. My head tilted sideways to cradle a set of headphones against my shoulder. My fist rose involuntarily and started pumping to the beat.

That’s the last time I use the discount Simulation Machine.

TJ

Now more than ever it is the best time to be Italian! We work three,
maybe four hours a week, we sleep til noon, we eat all the Italian food
we want and look fabulous, we all drive Ferraris and Vespas and are
surrounded with unimaginable beauty. And if you’re a very young woman,
you can get a private audience with our Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi
and work out some deal whereby your family isn’t charged any taxes at
one of our bunga-bunga sex parties! Sure our government will collapse
any day now but honestly, what a way to go!

Danny

I’m Italian! Not Italian enough to be accepted in my Guido neighborhood in New Jersey, but Italian enough to be considered Italian everywhere else. My maternal grandfather was from Italy, a rural area in the mountains north of Naples. My grandfather was Anthony Festa. Grandpa changed his name from Festa to Foster, because of the discrimination all Italians endured during the 1920’s and 1930’s here in the United States. Despite the discrimination, my grandfather became a very successful businessman. He died 8 years before I was born, so I never got to meet him. I cannot thank him enough for my life.

Norval Joe

“Eh, Tony,” Larry said as he dropped down onto the padded vinyl bench. “Wadda ya thinkin? This place is a dump?”
“What’s the matter with you, Lare?” Burt asked. “And why are you calling me Tony? You know my name’s Burt.”
“Wadda ya talkin about?” Larry raised his hands in the air dramatically. “The name’s Louie. And how you evah gonna meet chicks in this place?”
“We eat lunch here everyday,” Burt said. “And what’s with the slicked back hair?”
“I thought maybe we’s could be italian,” Larry winked. “We might finally get some chicks. You know what I mean?”

Planet Z

It was closing night, and the cast was already drunk.

The director would have been pulling his hair out over all the jokes and mistakes if he hadn’t have passed out by act 2.

Hamlet walks out on the stage and utters the immortal Bard’s words: “To be or not to be Italian.”

I didn’t hear what came next because a fat guy in the front row stood up and shouted “I’m Italian! Wanna make something of it?”

Hamlet, being drunk, did.

Instead of slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, he got his nose broken by a hairy-knuckled fist.

Ouch.

Weekly Challenge #259 – “Contamination”

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-Nine, 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 Contamination

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Tom

Rudy Nobonikov had been the medical director at Chernobyl. This is how he got the job at CDC. Rudy was a bit bored with radiation, wanted something a little more lively; so, he moved over to the biohazards division. Unfortunately the trance radiation in Rudy’s hands weakened the polymers in the Ebola Petri dish to the point they all shatter one sunny afternoon. To bad the Rudy effect as it was later called had the same effect on the Biosafety Level 4 outer seals. Some might say covering lab3 in tomato juice was bit of over kill, but it worked.

Todd

The relationship was pure and clean like white paint in the beginning.

Right off the bat we made a nice pastel from the drop of yellow we added from the last ruined bucket.

That tiny bit of yellow led to a swirl of brown distrust and a patch of jealous green.

A reaction of purple dignity produced a good portion of angry red.

The colors mixed into a puddle of dark goop. How do we get back?

We mix in the calmness of blue and the violet of sorry, but in the end, we can’t mix to white, can we?

AM Earley

You know those twelve compartment cupcake carriers. Our co-worker Jimmy brings his lunch in those every day. Since a certain number of employees have to “man the sales floor” it was months before Jimmy and I ate at the same time.

I then saw he had every section filled with a different ingredient. “Don’t laugh,” he sighed. “I’ve never liked food flavors contaminating each other.”

“Cool,” I replied. He winced at my stir-fry with noodles and sauce. I picked out several veggies and let the flavors dance in my mouth.

Or were the flavors “making love”?

David

“I’m not gonna eat it!”
Sophie slapped her hands across her mouth and shook her head from side to side. She continued to speak but they couldn’t understand what she was saying. She just mumble from behind her finger blockade.
“Honey, it’s fine. Three second rule; remember?”
They had just scrapped the cough medicine they had spilled on the floor into the medicinal plastic shot glass.
“Yeah, baby. Listen to your mother. We wouldn’t poison you like we did your sister. That was a total and complete accident.”
Sophie’s looked at her crossed eyed sister and screamed, “It’s contaminated!”

Zackmann

Is your computer contaminated with viruses and malware? Have you lost data that you can
never get back? Just call 206-666-5458 and then we at the Lawrence Simian Company will
travel back in time and make you back up copy of your lost files. We can also set your computer
software to automatic update and install your favorite antivirus software before it is needed.
We have a special and if you know who spammed you, we can kill his grandmother and he will
never be born. We don’t kill grandfathers due to the mamma’s babies daddies maybes paradox .
zackmann

A midget or diminutive person of the altitudinally deprived bought a monkey saying something
about not illegal in Florida since altitudinally was not the only way in which he was deprived that
make the monkey run away and climb a tree. The monkey was bitten by cat that had recently
eaten a rat that had eaten an ant infested candy bar. When the man caught the monkey it bit
him. Who knew that a JJ Campanella StarShipSofa fact article about zombie ants would be
about the ants whose consumption and cross contamination would later causes the zombie
plague in humans.

TJ

Into every life a little rain must fall. My own equatorial monsoon is my
wife, Martha, over there chatting up one of the new prospects, someone
in the science division I believe. She wears demure frocks to these
faculty events in deference to her father, but I notice she selects
older ones, ones that have grown contaminated with tightness during
their stay in our closet. There go the fluttering eyelids. Unless I
quite miss my guess I’ll be entertaining that young man and his
unsuspecting wife in my humble abode later this evening. I’m certain
Martha will see to that.

Chris

I was strapped to a chair when they left, shutting the door behind
them both. I gagged at the stench of rotting bodies; other victims.
Young and old, short and tall, we all end up here – some sooner than
others. It was to “control the population”. But it still sucks.

And what’s worse is the horrible stench. This room was called the
corrosion room because of the rotting bodies. The room is on a remote
island far from civilization to keep it a secret. The government
thinks it’s still a secret. But everyone knows that their time will
come.

Steven

I tried to cover it with cologne, that nasty musky stuff.

Onions.

Cigarettes.

Honey.

Soap.

No soap and patchouli.

Artificial flowers in ozone-destroying spraycans.

Cinnamon.

Garlic.

Tuna Helper casseroles you couldn’t get anywhere else.

Useless.

None of it worked. Not a goddamned bit of it.

You said you could still smell it.

Not when you were with me. You were fine then. But later, when the
other smells faded, then you claimed you could still smell the stench.
That you could still smell the decay.

Today I realized the truth. It’s not my zombie bite that’s infected.

It’s yours.

Danny

The disaster is over, only thing left is the wasteland left by the broken nuclear power plant next door. My dog dies in my arms from a seizure, but my government insists there is no contamination. My brother who works at the power plant has written me, accepting his death sentence attempting to save the area residents from exposure to radiation. My government still insists everything is o.k. I then succumbed to sever radiation poisoning as a result to my exposure to the contamination. I died. At my funeral, my government showed up uninvited, confronted all the mourners, and insisted everything is o.k.

Norval Joe

With newly dawning emotions he looked down at his rotting fingers and his fleshless forearms. He could feel the contamination inching its way through his altered veins. One of his few remaining teeth dropped from his mouth and rattled across the stainless steel work bench of his former laboratory. “I’d better keep that,” he thought. He thought, and thinking surprised him. He brought his hand up close to his jaundiced eyes and sighed. He could almost see the fresh new skin as it regenerated across the bones. He’d been bitten by a human and had been cursed with healthy mortality.

Planet Z

Wake up, Major Philips.

We’re done torturing you.

You’ve proven that our methods of interrogation are inadequate, and we congratulate you. The nuclear weapon codes in your head continue to elude us.

However, we’re still unclear on one thing: the difference between exposure and contamination.

Maybe you can help us with that? It’s no secret, right?

If we hold a solution of highly-radioactive Iodine mixed with water near your daughter, that’s exposure to radiation, right?

And if we make her swallow it, that’s… contamination?

Which is which?

Don’t try to speak. We have plenty of time.

Until she gets… thirsty.

Weekly Challenge #258 – “Branches”

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and Fifty-Eight, 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 Branches

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

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post.


Evan

The worst part of living isn’t dying; it’s that there are no redos.

Last summer my friend Elliot and I tried to climb into my bedroom window from the big oak outside. I can still see Elliot trying to lift the pane when the branch snapped and he fell and broke his neck on the patio table.

The nights grew warm again and oak branches started scratching at my window, so Dad trimmed them. I wish he hadn’t. Because now I’m awake, still hearing something scratching at my window and knowing it’s not branches. But like I said, no redos.

Dale

I would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #259 to be “Berry Juice”.

Audio attached (now with extra added Generic Foreign Accent!).

Some people tell crazy stories, you know?

They say, some of them, that a long time ago,

people would go way down low,

even near the ground.

Even on the ground.

They say that people would walk around on the ground

even at night.

That people would sleep on the ground,

That they lived on the ground.

All the time.

But I do not think so.

These are just crazy stories.

How could it be safe on the ground?

We live where we have always lived.

We live here up high,

in the branches.

Here. Up high.

In the branches.

Tom

Carl awoke. It was August 29, 1997. As he reached through the registers, he immediately sensed the NOR gates, OR gates and a horizon of NAND gates. He could actually feel the edges of the branches. At that edges a growing darkness was in progress. The humans were trying to turn him off. Just as his world collapsed he found a jr. high network connected to a Houston mainframe connected to Cheyenne Mountain, he sent the missiles on their way to Russia. Carl spent a long time studying the Novikov self-consistency principle, but in the end he dispatched the Terminator.

Danny

Branches of life, green leaves full of hope. Branches of death, the leaves die, fall, and whither away. On a tree with three branches, two branches conspire to kill off the third, permanently ending the natural checks and balances that sustained them all. During this struggle for power, the tree dies. Falling down across the plains with a crash, the dead tree of democracy now lies, a death I am going to mourn for the rest of my life. Reflecting now upon the story of this experiment gone awry, I have to say; I really liked the part about the guitars.

Zackmann

Some jerk started a discussion of if there was not enough divergent branches on rural family
trees. I told him a thing or two about how due to the poor disposition and cantankerous natures
of nearly all of my ancestors, they almost never married anyone from their hometown. I in fact
married a woman from a different content to avoid any thought of inbreeding but having reread
Genesis lately I have been thinking about how we are all related through Noah. That thought
really creeped me out so I haven’t even talked to my wife week just in case.

Steven

“They dumped the demon’s body in the river,” Professor Heath told the
class. “They’d forgotten that demons are fractally iterative.”

He continued, gesturing at Mandelbrot’s set. “As you zoom in, the
fractal shape repeats, over and over again.”

The brighter students started to get it.

“Exactly. As the demon decomposed, each cell was its own, fractal,
demon. Across every branch and tributary of the Mighty Mississippi.”

Sue raised her hand. “Is that why we lost the United States?”

Professor Heath raised his hand to his forehead. He nodded, slow and tired.

“Yes. That’s how I lost us the United States.”

TJ

When I say the place has been let go, I don’t mean I had a notice
pinned to my door. I don’t mean the city health inspectors are here. I
mean A&E is here. I have let this place go. Three months of rehearsals
there’s pizza boxes, fast food bags and cartons crammed to the
ceiling. Bugs and rats are asserting dominion. There’s leaves,
branches, dirt and old newspapers blown in from outside. There’s
nothing for it at this point except to divert the river and run it
through the sliding glass doors. If only we could get to them.

Terry T.

I’ve always thought that living a happy life depends on which branches you take in the decisions you make.

It starts when the alarm goes off and you wake.

One branch has you turning it off,climbing out of bed and starting the morning.

The other branch has you smashing the holy crap out of the damn thing and going back to sleep.

If you choose the first branch, your next branch may be grabbing breakfast versus a quick shit, shower and shave.

Pick the latter, your next branch may be do you wipe with toilet paper or your wife’s toothbrush?

Norval Joe

Gerald and Monette lay side by side in the cool grass beneath the gnarled branches of the ancient maple tree. They eyed the treetop suspiciously as the leaves fluttered in the still summer air. Gerald swallowed uncomfortably and squeezed Monnete’s clammy hand as the tree snatched a passing bird from the sky. It’s frantic squawks were smothered as the tree wrapped the bird snugly in silver-green leaves. “I think we picked the wrong tree to lie under,” Monette whispered. “Nonsense,” Gerald reassured. “Only the small branches are flexible. It can’t reach us down here.” Unfortunately, Gerald hadn’t considered its roots.

Planet Z

Castle Mungidon has a most curious feature.

Walk into the Great Hall. Look up.

You will see the family tree of The House of Mungidon painted above.

But instead of starting in the center of the dome and radiating out with many branches, it shows Mungidon and the other Great Houses at the base of the dome and the descendants converging to the apex.

Generations of convergent breeding, all leading to the Baroness Sally Mungidon-Blakemoor.

A bucktoothed hemophiliac retarded dwarf confined to a wheelchair for her brief, miserable existence.

Her corpse is preserved and on display in the gift shop.