Breathing

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My bathrobe looks like it’s breathing.
Maybe it’s a trick of the light.
I woke up in the middle of the night, put on my bathrobe, puttered around a bit, pet the cat, and drank some milk.
Might as well go the the bathroom while I’m up, right?
I put my robe on the floor, take a seat, and after a few minutes, I’m looking at the robe… and… it’s breathing.
It even sounds like it’s breathing.
Or maybe I’m hearing myself breathe. It’s late, and the mind plays tricks on itself.
Maybe it’s the fan blowing.
The cat, perhaps?

Sunset

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It’s been a long day.
I’ve got my beer and my hat, sitting out in the back yard, listening to a whole lot of nothing, and waiting for the sun to set.
Waiting. And waiting.
Lemme check my watch…
It’s way past time for sunset.
And my beer is empty.
Time’s passed.
If the sun’s gonna take its time setting, well, I’m gonna enjoy it.
But just to check, I put my empty at the end of my lawn chair’s shadow.
If it hasn’t moved by the time I finish my other beer, well, I’ll call…
Who do I call?

Weekly Challenge #109 – Jimmy Buffet

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And 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 selected by Thomas, who is going for broke with Jimmy Buffet.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #109?
Steven the Nuclear Man!
Tom from Footnote Podcast
Justin from The Space Turtle
Thomas
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Mike
Anima Zabaleta
Misfitina from Stainless Steel Matryoshka
Craig from Wash The Bowl
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Almo
Terry Tee from Quiet Time
Daphne from Going Broke
Laieanna and Hodgepodge Point
Guy David of Guy David.com
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


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


STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The rain patters cold on my shoulders, the post hole digger, the body
of the bird wrapped gently in a Sponge Bob pillowcase. Sarah’s soft
sobs are muffled by Martha’s torso, my daughter’s arms tightly
wrapped around her mother.
I am finishing when Sarah touches me, the last clod softly packed down
with my booted foot.
“Daddy, is Heaven something like Margaritaville?”
I look at Martha; her look away and the mention of Bob’s favorite song
says more than a strange man’s jeans in the wash.
“No,” I say, crying with her as Martha goes inside, “It’s nothing like that.”

TOM

The skin burned like hell. It filled the arm from the elbow to the shoulder. The salt shaker, the blender, the parrot, the stupid grinning face of Jimmy Buffet. Of course it was a beauty, a Caribbean Cute, how it got there he hadn”t a clue. He had been upending 151s with a guy name Raoul in a drive by the docks in Trinidad. The last thing he remembered was the tail end of a Bembe this girl name horse with those vacant eyes. Some say that woman”s to blame, but he knew its his own dam fault. Fuckn “. Zombies.

SPACE TURTLE

The sun shone from the sky onto the hardened face of a pirate. The pirate stared across the horizon as he reminisced the pirates life that had been for him as he stood on the bow of his ship, The Jimmy. The ship was buffeted by the crashing of his ship’s wake into the wake of his sister ship, The Jolly Mon, who sailed along beside, sea spray sparkling into the air. Their goal was a salty piece of land they would call home. The pirate captain was looking to make this his last voyage, for he was fifty.

THOMAS

Leaving the banana republics, A son of a sailor, needed a drink. The Tiki Bar was open, so he ordered a volcano. At the bar was a smart woman, in a real short skirt.
He asked the barman, “Who’s the blond?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.” he said.
“Fine.”
Smoothing his pencil thin mustache, he sidled over, boat drink in hand and said, “My lovely lady, why don’t we get drunk and screw?”
In a baritone voice she said, “Honey, I’ll take you on a trip around the sun.”
The barman snickered.
Breathe in, breathe out: move on.

CALEB

Hello?
Mr. James Buffet?
Yeah that”s me man come on in, want a beer?
Its time
Aw c”mon!
Its time!
I got all the money in the world, can”t we make another deal?
No! Even in hell we aren”t that cruel. Come with me.
Okay
Step into the limo sir.
Aw hey! It”s Michael Jackson! How you doin, boy?
Hello James, about as well as you I suppose, when Britney wakes up, say hello to her too.
Hey driver? Is this the reason musicians always seem to die in threes?
Kind of but it applies to you three as well.

MIKE

The cutter Jimmy Buffet cruised the warm Caribbean waters, her radar turning ceaselessly. Until a few years ago, the area had been filled with wealthy tourists lazily cruising among the small islands that dotted the area. Rumors of raiders, though, launching deadly attacks under the cover of island music – broadcast from the ship’s speakers, of all things – had caused that major revenue stream to all but dry up.
“Skipper!” came the cry from the bridge. “Radar return two miles to the northwest. Looks like a 35 footer.”
“Come about – close from astern,” the captain called, reaching for a calypso CD.

ANIMA

Imagine 4 college girls in a Ford Fiesta, escaping a midwestern March.
Destination: Key West. A Jimmy Buffet cassette loops over and over.
Packing list: flip flops, bathing suit, dress. Check. Battery operated blender and tequila. Check and double check.
No one has money. Meals are bar snacks and the charity of frat boys. Everything that can be charged to Daddy’s gas card, is. We sleep on the beach while we tan.
Tami goes missing She reappears at dawn, with a new tattoo, a boys address crumpled in her hand.
Parrots cackle as we head north, nursing well earned hangovers.

MISFITINA

Thin eggshell stripes framed the cool hell. Dry blonde hair was caught in
the hinge of a bright blue beach chair, and the glaze of mid-day reassured
him of absence, detachment. His phantom hands were sticky from sugar,
Cuervo, and blood. It didn’t breathe, and the silence compounded into a
chorus, damning, damning… yet *Margaritaville* was thunderous above them,
on the boardwalk. And fuck if he wouldn’t love a cheeseburger, grazing in
the sand with the Master of Parrots. As the body and the tide rudely
obscured the circus scents, this anthem of regret, apathy, oblivion, served
as *Amazing Grace*..

CRAIG

Come Monday I”ll be heading to paradise for a cheese burger.
You may think me crazy for traveling for a hunk of cow but I”m here to
tell you it”s all about location.
Now I wouldn”t ever go to North Dakota for a Margaretta even if Jimmy
Buffet stirred and shook it just for me.
I would on the other hand travel to Cuba to find the trail of the pencil
thin mustache.
So if this story has got you feeling blue then jump right up on the
coconut telegraph and send me a dot and a couple of dashes

ELISSON

Seven-year-old Evan”s face glowed with happiness. This was the best
birthday party ever!
All his friends were there, having the time of their lives. Mom and Dad
were enjoying the party as well, pounding down Margaritas with the other
grownups while the kids played party games and wolfed custom-made ice
cream sundaes.
Yes, ice cream sundaes. This place not only provided the ice cream, hot
fudge, caramel and butterscotch sauces, maraschino cherries, whipped
cream, and chopped nuts; there was row after row of multicolored
sprinkles to choose from.
Screw Chucky Cheese, thought Evan. Jimmy Buffett”s Jimmy Buffet was
waaaay better.

ALMO

The woman at the end of the bar had too much makeup and too little idea how
to use it. Her smile was lopsided, as if she couldn’t make the full effort.
Her top had been tight once. It was too tight now.
A lesser known Jimmy Buffett ballad floated through the tired little bar.
The stool beside her was open and I sat there. I bought two drinks. When she
started to talk I handed her one. When she tried to speak again, I lifted
my glass in silent toast and she drank.
We both looked down. Mom smiled.

TERRY TEE

It’s been two weeks since I retired from my job of thirty-five years and in thirty-five years some things change, but then again, some things don’t.
As an example, I’ve been going to Jimmy’s barber shop for the last twenty-five years and no other barber has touched my hair in all that time. One thing Jimmy does is ask me each time how I want it cut. Oh sure, each year there’s a little less to cut on top, but he still asks, “How do you want the top Terry?”
Now I say, “Well, Jimmy, buff-it to a high sheen.”

DAPHNE

He took me to Paris, not in France but One Particular Harbor this 40 year old pirate knew. When we docked, the Last Mango Bar was selling Boat Drinks but we wanted Cheeseburgers and headed to the Paradise Grill that our friend with the Pencil Thin Mustache owned. We ate, drank and joked about Growing Older but Not Up and laughed at how We Are the People Our Parents Warned Us About. When we left for the night I look down and picked up a salt shaker turn to the bar and yelled “Hey Jimmy, were you looking for this?”

LAIEANNA

For years, Jimmy Peterson spent every day eating at his favorite Chinese buffet. A conveyor belt of wait staff brought plate after plate to his table which was not typical service at a serve yourself restaurant, except 862 pounds Jimmy hadn’t left his bench in two years. Still, he served a purpose, greeting other customers with praise and jokes, using his size, about the great food. Nights he slept stationary like his days. Before closing, the owner would throw a hat on Jimmy’s head and a blanket over his massive body with the words “Security Guard” stitched across the fabric.

GUY DAVID

It was a buffet. Zelda neatly put the cutlery on the table, her finest china. Jimmy, her husband, watched in horror, mixed with strange fascination. He knew they would have to leave soon, but Zelda was treating her guests to the best of standards. She always liked things perfect that way.
The guests started trickling in. They sat at the table and gobbled all the food greedily. What started out as order ended up as chaos. Zelda didn’t mind though. As Jimmy reluctantly went to pack the suitcases, the guests dropped one by one as the poison gobbled their system.

PLANET Z

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that people take things too far.
I know these Jimmy Buffet fans who run this bar. Nothing but Margaritas and the noisiest blenders in the world.
Which, is a good thing. You see, these folks go overboard with the term “parrothead” by putting an actual parrot head in each pitcher of margaritas.
Rows and rows of cages filled with the damn birds are stacked in the basement of the bar.
They could use parakeets. They’re cheaper, tastes just like parrot.
Nope.
I stick to bottled beer. And fried parrot fingers.
Delicious!

The Wacky Adventures of Abraham Lincoln #85

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Abe finished the straw dummy, stripped off all his clothes, and started to dress the crudely-fashioned mannequin.
General Grant, laying with his back to a tree stump, took a pull from his flask. “What are you doing, Abe?”
“My mind is like a piece of steel,” Abe mumbled.
For the next hour, he poked and prodded at the stovepipe hat, never satisfied with the angle it rested on his simulacrum”s head.
“You can”t make him your Vice President, you know,” said General Grant.
Abe pouted and tore the wicked dummy apart.
But he never did bother to get dressed again.

Madman

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We drag the madman out of the basement and let him loose in the back yard.
The neighborhood kids squeal with joy and wave their butterfly nets.
“ONE! TWO! THREE!”
The madman hears the counting and remembers…
He needs to flee!
“NINE! TEN! ELEVEN!”
Over the fence he goes, and he”s loose in the streets. He jumps over hedges, paws at a car door, kicks over lawn ornaments…
EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! TWENTY!
The kids swarm through the gate, laughing and cheering.
They catch the madman at a phone booth, trying to call Saturn.
Perhaps, next time, we’ll release two of them.

Smells

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There’s a chemical factory somewhere in New Jersey that can make any smell or taste you need.
Miles and miles of test tubes with lemon furniture polish, baked potato bubble gum, burning tire lip gloss.
Everything can smell or taste like anything else now.
In the labs below the basement, they mix the chemicals that can make any feeling that you need.
Here’s a test tube with Sadness.
Here’s another test tube with Joy.
Here’s yet another test tube with Fear.
Mix them up in the right combinations, and you can live out your greatest dreams.
Or your worst nightmares.

Telegraph

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Somewhere in the basement of the records office, I swear, you could hear clicking.
I dug around, opened up an old wooden crate, and found a telegraph key.
As I held it up to the light, looking for some kind or label, the switch clacked.
I nearly dropped it.
Maybe it just… you know…
It clacked again. And again.
Pretty soon, it was tapping a sequence. I put it on the crate’s lid, pulled out a notebook, and wrote it down.
I’m not good with Morse Code, but I swear it said: “Get me out of here.”
Where?
And who?

UFO

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Hubert was bored, so he picked up a camera and hucked a pie tin through the air to make a UFO photograph.
After sixteen reports to the FBI, they stopped taking his calls.
Later that month, gigantic pie tins floated down from the sky and landed in Hubert”s cornfield.
Hubert remembered The Boy Who Cried Wolf and realized he was completely and totally fucked.
Then, he remembered” he was the pie-eating champion of Bucktooth County ten years running.
Hubert ran towards the pie tins and… was blasted into smithereens by alien robots.
Come Fall, someone else will be pie-eating champion.

Garage Door

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Right after breakfast, when it’s time to go to school, Danny does this trick – he hits the garage door button and then watches the garage door go down and down and down…
When the time is just right, he runs for the garage door and rolls under it.
“Garage Door Limbo” he calls it.
One day, Danny’s principal calls his mom at work.
“Is Danny sick?” he asks.
His mom races back home, sees Danny trapped under the garage door.
Stone cold dead.
She weeps. If the garage door didn’t kill him, well, running him over finished him off.

Weekly Challenge #108 – Gold

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Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And 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 selected by Planet Z, who is going for broke with…
It’s Gold.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
VOTING

Which stories were the best from Weekly Challenge #108?
Thomas
MCJC from stainless steel matryoshka
Justin from The Space Turtle
Tom from Footnote
Steven the Nuclear Man
Hotspur from Hibernia on the Skids
Eva Moon the Lunatic
Almo
Mike
JD from Writing.com
Anima Zabaleta
Guy David from Guy David
Craig from Wash The Bowl
Elisson from blog d’Elisson
Terrence from NeverWas
Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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


THOMAS

Melvin Goldberg was his name, but his fellow demons called him “Gold”. He was impatient. Plenty of work still laid ahead of him, but Gold loved his job. The campaigns were in full swing with everybody eager to sell their soul.
Just a flash of his smarmy smile and they were Gold’s. Whatever promises he had to make he would. Democrat; Republican; hell, even Jedi! They would cast principles aside and sign on the dotted line. Winners and losers didn’t matter. He was, after all, in sales, not fulfillment. That was somebody else’s department.
So many politicians, so little time.

MCJC

Hip wears silver, family wears gold. She chose copper bangles, colored glass beads. On holidays she would receive gold hoops or rings, tennis bracelets, charms. She dreamt of melting them down into a bar as a door stop. Meaningless. Save, Lame’ tops, frosted hair, big broaches at JC Penney. Save, time spent before growing apart. Each unworn piece, treasure of mall trips, and distant sisterhood. Friends, adorned in silver and hemp shirts, said titanium lasts forever. Yet gold survives, fluid like memory and love, familiar in the glow, the ancient desire to capture the sun, the warm, and the good.

JUSTIN

Ehh you, Golden Boy, dat’s right, you. I’ve had enough of your shenanigans… makin’ my boys disappear… I don’t know where they go, but I don’t believe you turn criminals into people that help the poor, and me and my bat here are going to settle this disagreement.
The thug swung the bat. The man with a yellow ingot symbol on his chest grabbed it. The bat turned gold, as did the man that held it. The Golden Boy then melted the body down, forming it into golden bricks, which he then sold, donating the money to the poor.

TOM

Bill Ray slid across the vinyl in the booth. Alma Sue fingered the crystal salt shaker. The smell of coffee embraced the acrid tinge of sweet crude. Billy flipped the edge of the tiny black velvet box. The glow in Alma”s eyes reflected the gold and diamonds his token of love. Irene glided between the couple and deposed a piece of absinthe pie. “Oh Billy such opulence,” purred Alma sliding the golden ring onto her finger. The last rays of a golden sun was setting on loves labor lost. The tiny gold cross upon her neck glowed. “Oh Fuck “””””..Zombies”

STEPHEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The machine goes ping and she stifles a laugh. They loved that movie.
His hands are cold in hers, so she is not surprised when the rhythmic
ping changes to a whine, then to the chaos of nurses and doctors
performing a full code. She allows herself to be ushered out to the
sterile comfort of the waiting room.
Couples fight silently overhead, the trash tv thankfully muted. Her
fingers caress the worn gold of her ring. She wonders if she will
wear it once he has gone.
She sees the doctor in the doorway, and stands to meet him.

HOTSPUR

How do I explain? I had no clues to his identity. To me, he was a wandering drunk that passed out in my rose garden in his own vomit. A man in my position has to show munificence. It”s expected.
So the servants made inquiries and sent him back where he came from.
The magnificent gift I received in return.. well.. I”m set for life, I thought. It was delightful transforming mundane into fabulous. Then I got hungry. And, well, you know the rest.
What will I tell her mother? And yet, she makes a lovely statue, does she not?

EVA

At last a small cove yielded up a crescent moon of smooth sand.
The crossing had been harrowing and the coast, after months at sea, taunted
them for days with impenetrable cliff walls. But the promise of a new land
of gold and riches kept them at the ship”s rail.
Ernesto leapt from the boat into the foaming surf, ignoring the water
streaming into his leather boots. He scrambled up the rocks and gazed at the
expanse of small yellow flowers that carpeted the land to the line of
distant trees.
“Capitan!” he shouted, grinning, “We have found the gold!”

ALMO

The robber stood in darkness, flashlight in his teeth, and admired the exquisite inlay on the lid of the box. He ran his hand over the gleaming wood. He didn’t know wood, but it felt expensive, smooth and warm to the touch.
What jewelry would the rich have?
He opened the box and was awed by the way the contents sparkled under his light. The diamond earrings were first to be plucked. Then the necklace. Antique. Valuable.
Finally, he took the gold wedding band and let the lid of the casket drop as he slipped away into the night.

MIKE

Thousands have killed for it; millions, possibly, have died for it. In leaf form, it graces countless domes at all levels of government, as well as untold numbers of universities and church buildings. Few things are as beautiful as the gilt accents seen in pottery, porcelain, and glass, as well as on the edges of the pages of a fine book. I speak of the most desired of metals – gold.
But the gold that stirs my heart and fires my blood are the flecks that dance in the eyes of my one true love, every time she smiles at me.

JD

Johnathan stands next to the creek and watches the water wash through his homemade sluice.
His left hand, holding the long wooden handle, pushes and pulls causing the wooden box to rock gently left and right.
Johnathan’s eyes, ever watchful of the gravel in the bottom of the box, glints at his first sign of color.
His right hand, quickly diving into the water, grasp the nugget and lifts it to the sky.
The nugget sparkles in the sun.
Behind Johnathan’s back Ellen climbs onto the big stallion with the dark stranger and rides away.
Truly, this is fool’s Gold.

ANIMA

“Here you go,” says Jason, holding out the glass amphora to his cousin, King AEetes. A metallic pinging emanates from the jar.
The arrogant youth prates on, “I’m ready to take over the throne, like you agreed to””
“What are you babbling on about?” Asks the king.
“You said, if I brought back the golden fleas, I’d get my throne back. You never thought I would go all the way to the gates of Hades and pluck them from Cerberus. Man, does he have stinky dog breath”.”
“You Greek goof, clean your ears. You’re to bring me the GOLDEN FLEECE!”

GUY DAVID

Chaketo have really grown. Mama Chirapa always worried about him, so thin and pale. “Why can’t I go and play on the surface?” he would always ask. “The humans are suspicious of strangers” Mama Chirapa would say, “we can’t risk them knowing about us.” Chaketo could never understand this, why would anyone be suspicious of anyone else? “When I grow up, I would find a way to earn their trust” he thought. Meanwhile, The Chirapa mind the gold from the dipper underground tunnels in order to keep their cloaking devices operational. They really didn’t want those Humans to discover them.

CRAIG

Walking into the local vegetarian restaurant I felt tension, was my leather jacket setting them on edge.
Placing my order I smiled, looking deeply into eyes that didn”t look back.
My order of a simple brown rice bowl came with a bonus, a side of silence, no charge.
In the restroom HOWL played in endless loop. I washed my hands mouthing
“I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness,”
“who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars”
“who cut their wrists three times”
I stood looking at my gold watch wondering about different roles, then left.

ELISSON

Theodoric was in trouble. Deep trouble.
As an up-and-coming young alchemist at the Magisterium, he had boasted openly of his ability to turn base metal into gold. Too openly…
…for when the Regent”s men overheard him, they were swift to pass word to their master.
Now he shared a fetid cell with a heap of leaden ingots. Transmute or die, they had told him.
Sweating, trembling, he closed his eyes, tonelessly reciting the incantation.
An ill-timed stutter on the last word added fifteen protons and twenty-seven neutrons too many, whereupon the Magisterium, along with the surrounding countryside, ceased to exist.

TERRENCE

Over the years many had feared Raoul. Many trembled at his mere presence. People fled from him. He was after all the most feared of all his brothers, even if he had been written out of the ‘Good’ book.
There was, however, the one time all that changed. People were not running or quivering at his presence. They were cheering him. This had not been his intent. He had hoped that his actions would lead to the damnation of millions. He would have never guessed people would be happy that he turned all those hopeful singers in to Golden Idols.

PLANET Z

For months, we sack and pillaged the New World, plundering the riches of Empire and carting away tons of finest Gold.
Cortez check his math.
“Did we plunder six or seven cities of gold?” he ask.
Some of the men say six.
Some say seven.
One say eight, but Pedro, one who say eight, he not so good at math.
“Do we go back?” I ask.
“No,” say Cortez. “We have enough. It give something to go back to, no?”
We load the ships, raise the sails, and head back to Cleveland.
So simple to rob Canada these days, yes?