Trinkets

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The ancient Indian closed his eyes and hissed a curse:
The land, it hates you. It trembles with rage, shaking under your accursed White Man’s feet, wishing it could swallow you whole and spit you out in Hell.
Those maps in your wicked hand will not guide you. The land will twist and writhe like The Snake Spirit, sending you to your doom.
I looked at the trinkets on his table again.
“Okay, twenty bucks for the necklace,” I said.
“Thirty,” said the Indian.
“Twenty-five?”
The Indian smiled. “Sold,” he said. “And you’re lost because your map is upside down.”

Wedding

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Okay, so I was wasted out of my mind on Monday and recorded an interesting introduction to Kim’s piece to say the least.
Kim Benson and Andrew Ian Dodge get a little literary revenge…

It took place in a Balinese temple on a golden beach. Andrew and Kim had flown together with just two of their closest friends as witnesses. Andrew was dressed in a traditional Balinese outfit of red, white and gold as he awaited his bride to be. Kim with her hair laden with fresh tropical flowers was wearing a red and gold sari which was easily unravelled for later delights. Incense wafted over the temple as the flame of togetherness was swirled around both their heads and marriage vowels were spoken. STOP. How your mind wanders on 6 glasses of champagne.

Okay, no more drunk bookend recording. Sober recording only from now on.
(I only had two pints Downtown before heading to the radio show. Honest!)

Wampum

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Jim S. comes back with a new one…

What was that?
Thinking it was probably nothing, she got back to her work. Sweating profusely and muttering to herself, she meticulously counted out the wampum.
“One for you, one for me. One for you, two for me.”
It wasn’t quite fair, but to hell with them. They’d made her to divvy up the loot because she was apparently the only one who could count AND understand them.
Greed was, indeed a slippery slope. And a distracting one at that, since the ground shaking was actually their cannon shooting a fusillade at her village.
She NEVER even heard it coming.

Cool. Who else will become addicted to podcasting their 100 Word Stories? Will the entire world start podcasting them?
I hope so. Because they’re even more fun to listen to that to write.

Magic

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Hey, it’s another guest story from Kim in The Empire Formerly Known As British!

Is it possible to win £100,000 on Magic Radio’s Mystery voices competition without spending most of it trying to get through? You can only call when they advise you to and all calls are charged a flat rate of 25p whether you get through or not – most don’t. The jackpot currently stands at £96,700 (still rising at every wrong answer) which means that 967 have got the voices wrong! Gloria Estefan and Kurt Russell are dead certs but who is the third mystery voice? Could it be that Magic Radio themselves are the real winners where this competition is concerned?

Thanks, Kim, and it’s great to hear all sorts of different voices and styles coming together.
We all have something in common, and there’s lots of room in the 100 Word Story playpen.

Galloway

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Hey, folks! It’s time for some more excellent musings from Andrew Ian Dodge. Let’s check in with his favorite apologist for Saddam and the Syrians…

George Galloway, Hamas, er I mean RESPECT MP for Bethnal Green & Bow is currently doing celebrity Big Brother. He claims he is doing it to raise “issues” with a larger audience that aren’t normally engaged in politics. Now his constituents have taken exception to him farting around in a house with Denis Rodman and a transvestite 80’s pop star; when he should be representing their interests in the House of Commons…which their taxes pay him for. Now are they being ever so unreasonable? Even better his fee is going to a terrorist front; according to the US State Department.

Right on the button, as always!
You can catch Andrew Ian Dodge at all the sites under the squiggly squirmy Cthulhu icon.

Cumin

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Jim S, formerly of JimSpot and now with Blog Critics, recorded a cool story based on today’s 100 Words Or Les Nessman…

DAMN! Where is the cumin? He figured He’d once again have to run to the market to get something that was missing because she’d used it all up. After a thorough search of all the cupboards, there was none. He was sure the woman would never realize that his genius was hampered by interruption.
He dutifully donned his coat and hat and grabbed the keys. He couldn’t work under these circumstances, damnit!
He climbed out of the pitifully small opening to the igloo and started up the snowmobile for the three-hour trek to the market.
For CUMIN, for heaven’s sake!!

I knew it was a good theme. Glad I came up with it last night, wink wink.

Remedy or Cause?

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“Where’s my icepack?” shouted Alice.
Elmo pulled the tray from the freezer, bent it over the ice bucket, and waited for the cubes to fall out.
Nothing.
He scratched his head and smirked.
“Maybe they’re not clean?” he said.
Elmo ran the trays under the faucet, then poured them out and wiped them down with a kitchen towel.
He smiled as he stuck them back in the freezer.
“Where’s my icepack?” shouted Alice. “This migraine is killing me!”
“I’m still working on it!” shouted Elmo back, happily. “And don’t you worry – that ice is going to be really clean!”

New Year Resolution

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Okay, so Andrew Ian Dodge said something about someone named Kim, she’s gotten addicted to this whole 100 word stories thing, and she even recorded one of her own.
I’d just like to say that I haven’tbeen invited to the wedding yet, but when I am, I give you two all of my blessings. And if you two haven’t actually planned on getting hitched just yet, well, my deepest apologies.
I have an excuse because, as I said in the previous podcast from Ian I posted, I’m rather hammered. It’s a rare thing, because I have such a huge and powerful brain, and it takes a lot of Guinness to lay me out like a smoked salmon at a Bar Mitzvah buffet table.
So here we go… Kim (Mrs. Future Dodge Ian Andrew) with her own story for the new year.

My New Year Resolution was ‘not to get Angry’. First day back at work the underground was on strike so I just shrugged and went to the bus stop. Being British, I got in line and waited for the bus to arrive. One, two, three buses later I still had not moved very far up the queue. However, I stayed calm and waited my turn. Another 20 buses came and went full up, the queue became disgruntled – it was each man for himself. Red faced I pushed, kicked and pulled myself on the bus. The prozac had worn off.

I think I need lots of vitamin C about now. Linus Pauling may be dead, but that doesn’t mean I want to join him in a grave anytime soon.

Moonlighting

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They made fruit smoothies by day and killed babies by night.
We found the tiny corpses in the dumpster behind the Blend-a-Rama. If it hadn’t have been for a hungry stray dog, we’d have never known it was a front for a backalley abortion clinic.
The problem is, it’s not their dumpster. And the geniuses at Crime Lab screwed the evidence in a mixup. Someone got high on seized weed, had the aborted tykes incinerated.
All they’re getting is a health code citation and a slap on the wrist.
Word spreads fast. Their business is booming now, day and night.

Unwelcome Visitor

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Too much TV is bad for your eyes and the fabric of space-time.
A rent in the universe opened up behind my entertainment center last week.
Every now and then, a hideous tangle of tentacles and fangs comes screaming out of the wormhole, lashes around for a minute or so, then slowly wiggles itself to death as it chokes on our nitrogen and oxygen atmosphere.
We dump their bodies in the trash. Double-bagged. Those fangs are sharp, you know.
The dog ran through the portal this morning. The kids want me to go after him.
Screw that. We’re getting fish.