Category: Weekly Challenge

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred and 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… was…. um…
It’s What have I got in my pockets?!
VOTING

Which were the best stories this year?
	Zachmann
	Steven
	Justin
	TJ
	Anima
	JRadimus
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Zachmann

What do you mean this time you don’t want another disaster and this time want to know what have I got in my pockets? Yes, I will put everything on the table and from the clothes I wore yesterday too. Keys, cell phone, Yu-Gi-oh cards, gum, some coins, a rock, crayons, a coloring book, a cat toy, a kitten, candy wrappers, a Sansa player, a Disk World book, bicycle inner tube with tire patch kit, Beef jerky, portable television , a Bionicles set, Legos, a sonic screwdriver, and an autographed photo of Harpo Marx. Dad, you know I hate laundry day.

Steven

Uncle Al smelled of vaporub as he poked at me. “How’s my little girl?”
My young voice squeaked angrily at him. “I. Am. A. Boy.”
Al ran his finger through his thick black hair. “Okay, little girl.” He reached out, and I felt a brief tug. “Gotcher nose!”
“I’m a boy! And that’s your finger, not my nose.”
I smiled. “I’ve got one too, Uncle.” I reached towards his scalp, then put my hand in my pocket. “Guess what I’ve got, Uncle.”
He shrieked, feeling the air cold against his suddenly bald scalp.
“Oh,” I said. “You figured it out.”

Justin

In my pocket are keys to other worlds. I keep them in a small notebook. I put them there whenever I find them. Sometimes I find them at work, and other times when I’m waiting in line at the grocery store. I even find them at church.
I’ve found a door. I check my notebook for the key that fits. I take out one of the keys and put it in the lock. The door opens and before me is my imagination. It flows out of the door and through me onto the pages. I hope you enjoy the stories!

TJ

Alanis always skated on past that hand she had in her pocket. The other one was the one out giving high fives or playing a piano or hailing a taxicab. The hand she kept hidden was the attitude of a generation. Think about the look – jaded ’90s hippie chick can’t be bothered to engage 100 percent in anything. The one hand in her pocket was flipping a bird in solidarity with a Reality Bites, slacker, coffee-fueled Seattle-centric vibe. Things make no sense, but what it all comes down to my good friends is that everything is just fine, fine, fine.

Anima

When I bought the jacket, I was looking for something more practical than my technical fleece. The ancient sherpani wanted a hundred fifty rupee, but settled for a hundred and the tube of chapstick, everything I had in my pockets. That night I noticed the value of the coat when my guidebook disappeared into its chasmic folds, followed by a 2 liter bottle of water. And a live chicken. I’ve lived in Katmandu 10 years now, carrying loads for trekkers – I make them pay extra for conversations about sports and politics. Wherever you are hajurama, I owe you 50 rupee…

JRadimus

“What have I got in my pockets?” The stranger casually fingered through his clothes, pretending to look for money he knew wasn’t there. Zara waited patiently, her fiddle dangling casually from her fingers.
Her offer seemed implausibly generous to him: a song for the largest bill in his pockets, sight-unseen. He wondered how she made a living; like most people, he didn’t carry cash anymore. During this distraction, Zara waggled her fingers surreptitiously. A now-familiar shock came over his face as he pulled a twenty from otherwise-empty pockets. She hid a smirk, pocketed her fee and played him his song.

Norval Joe

It was a bad area of town in a town already bad enough.
An old man sat, everyday, on the corner of Fourth and T. His name was Art King. He was old and wrinkled but sat on his soap box with such regal presence, everyone called him King Arthur.
A stranger pulled a knife on him and said, “Gimmee all you got.”
“Well, let me see what I got here in my pocket.”
He pulled out an old harmonica and said, “You can have it, and every other disease I have.”
He laughed, coughed, spat, and played a song.

Z

Stare at your target, synchronize alpha waves, and make connection.
I can’t explain MindJumping any better than that.
Neither can the Psychic Academy, but without their training, I’d be a drooling husk, rejected by strong host personalities.
Instead, I can leap, store my body in a Coma Hotel, and walk you around while searching your memories like pockets.
Jumping back stuns the host temporarily. By then, I’m long gone, with your secrets and money.
Not this time. Back at the Coma Hotel, someone’s buried a knife in my chest.
Not good.
Sorry, chump, but your ass is literally mine now.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number Two Hundred, 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… was…. um…
It’s “It’s gotta be better than” and “Road apples”!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	h3nix
	Zachmann
	Stephen
	Justin
	Anima
	TJ Aman
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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h3nix

Neezlebum sat along the bank of the river, his bamboo fishing pole extending out over the water. He was happily two hours away from work, wife, and what others passed as civilization. Peace and quite surrounded him and he was filled with an immense sensation that nothing could possibly go wrong today. Not even as he heard footsteps approaching.
“So how’s it going today?” asked a deep voice.
Neezlebum, not even bothering to eye the stranger, “Well, I woke up above ground. It’s gotta be better than the alternative, eh?”
“That’s a loada road apples, I think,” replied Death thoughtfully.

Zachmann

It was the day of the fair. The judge was tasting pies. He tasted the pumpkin pie and said “this is a very good pie but it is sweet potato not pumpkin.” He tasted the apple pies and said “this is made with Granny Smith apples.” then the Pair pies and he said “This pie made with Bosc Pairs is great.” “this rhubarb pie could use just a little more sugar” The judge said “I thought anythings gotta be better than my fathers cooking but this pie taste like Road Apples” “Yeah, I know but form what breed of horse?”

Stephen

“Hold this, Maude,” Howard said, handing her his logout button, arms
spread wide under pixelated clouds. “This virtual world is awesome!”
“Ew.” Maude looked at her shoe. “Howard, I stepped in sh-”
“A road apple, yes!” His eyes shone. “The detail is amazing! And we
can stay here until we want to leave.”
“No, Howard.”
“Baby, this is better than our old life. ”
Maude hit her logout button and left, taking his button with her.
“No,” Maude said to herself. “You just have to make real life better.”
She left VirtuaWorld, whistling and tossing both logout buttons in the trash.

Justin

When you’re a hungry man with no home, you eat what you can. Half rotten apples on the side of the road are better than nothing.
The skinny monster in front of me looks lost, wrong dimension. Considering it’s situation, I’m a half rotten apple.
I understand it’s hungry like me and I’m the nearest thing to eat, but apples don’t think and live like me.
I decide we both got a right to live and toss it my bag of apples. It sniffs them and swats them away. Refusing a gift ain’t right.
This apple is gunna fight back.

Anima

“Want to see how you got that grin ? Pull up GoobTube…. Here we go – skipping school, drinking a few brews. Now we’re down by the lake, with a suicase of Natty Ice. Thank goodness someone got smart and called their sober sister. Ha! Jerry suggested goofy pranks, like TPing Coaches’ house and stealing traffic cones. No way did I think you were drunk enough to juggle road apples… “
(voice from video) “Eww – Did you just take a bite? That has gotta be better than kissing cows… do it again – I missed the shot…”

TJ

The History Channel’s “Life After People” – where they speculate about a world after all people disappear – is doing a segment called “Dishes.” My mom tipped them off I let my dishes pile up when I’ve got a show going on, and yep, three months into my stage production of “Chicago,” my kitchen’s a disaster. Dishes to the ceiling, covered with bugs and the place smells like road apples. You’d think it would raise my profile but no. More people will see my damn’ plates on basic cable than will see me on stage. At least my mom got a T-shirt.

Norval Joe

George surveyed the fifteen members of his party as they strapped the snowshoes to their feet.
The groups leader said, “You can stay here and wait if you want, Mr. Donner. We’re going to cross the pass and get help. It’s gotta be better than sitting around here, eating boiled ox hide.”
“Go then,” Donner said, “you wont find so much as a road apple to eat, there’s probably fifteen feet of snow in that pass.”
As the group known as the Forlorn Hope left, Donner said to his wife, “Darn, I was hoping to have them around for dinner.”

Planet Z

The Wastelands Professor stood at the end of The Road, apple in one hand and knife in the other.
“It is two days’ journey from our orchard to The Obelisk and back,” he said.
The student recalled stories of mutants and wolves circling Oasis Settlement.
He chose the knife.
“It’s got to be better than the apple,” he said.
And began to walk.
The knife remained at his side.
It did not nourish him.
It did not give him healing compounds to combat radiation sickness.
The High Priest grumbled at the loss of another knife and called the blacksmith.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Anything you want, Higgledy piggledy, Tree!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Zachmann
	Norval Joe
	Steven
	Justin
	TJ
	JRadimus
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Zachmann

A beautiful Filipina woman wearing a Jessica Rabbit dress walked up to me where I was sitting on a bench near a tree in the park. She leaned forward. My mind went higgledy piggledy because of the very revealing dress. We started to talk. We had a chemistry. She said “I will do anything you want.” I took her home. Naturally since I was a man and she was a sexy woman, I told her how lucky I was to met her then I asked her to make Shanghai lumpia and watch the children so I could take a nap. zackmann (next topic music)

Norval Joe

The note said, “Meet me at the oak tree after school.”
Chad recognized the purple ink.
When the bell rang, he ran to the tree.
She handed him a red paper heart with lace trim. In silver glitter it said, “I’m higgledy piggledy over you, Valentine.”
He blushed furiously and hoped no one saw.
When she turned away he hid it in his book.
“Amy, wait,” he called and pulled a crumpled card from his back pocket. He pushed it into her hand and ran away.
It read, “Anything you want, Valentine, I’m it.”
Sixth grade is tough on boys.

Steven

I ran as fast as my stubbly little hooves would go. Gary said my
running was “higgledly-piggledly”, but Gary’s dead now.
My tree had fallen. It wasn’t strong enough. Stronger than Gary’s
straw hut, strong enough to give me a chance to run, but that was all.
Ralph stared wide-eyed at me through the window of his brick house.
“Let me in!”
A tear ran down Ralph’s cheek. He didn’t open the door.
The wolf’s breath was hot on my neck.
“Your choice, little piggy. I’ll eat you any way you want.”
I tried to choose something quick.

Justin

* “Brave Dwarf, you’ve helped the elves so much, and we owe you deeply. What gifts could we give you in return?”
“Well, now that my home as been destroyed, please build me a tree house to live in!”
* “Certainly Dwarf! We would be honored if you stayed with us.”
“I’d like haggis to eat at least once a week.”
* “Haggis? This is strange to us, but we will provide if we can. We owe our survival to you, after all.”
“Most of all, the thing I really want …”
* “Yes, Dwarf?”
“Stop calling me Dwarf, my name is Higgledy Piggledy!”

TJ

“Hey kids, great game!” Coach said. “Let’s all get ice cream!”
“Ice cream!” Gleeful shouts filled the air as the ice cream truck pulled up next to the ballpark in the shade of a tree.
“Order whatever you want!” Coach said as the kids ran higgledy-piggledy towards it.
The losing team watched the mass of joy headed to the truck.
“No ice cream for losers,” the visiting team’s Coach growled.
The kids piled into a half dozen cars and headed homeward, for a rather more bleak end of town, as the lowering sky unloaded a cloudburst of disappointment upon them.

JRadimus

There’s a town in the valley with a peculiar tree growing amidst the ruins of a church. Its origin is so unique the town’s name changed from Johnson’s Elbow to Big Preacher’s Oak.
Long ago, in another village, a precocious girl named Esther was given a Wishing Stone by a hermit. He told her, “This will grant your heart’s true desire. But,” he warned, “You mustn’t cast your wish higgledy-piggledy.”
Finally, Esther knew what she wanted: this travelling preacher’s daughter was tired of travelling. Pinching the stone, she whispered, “I wish Papa would put down roots here in Johnson’s Elbow…”

Planet Z

This was my first time Deep South, so when someone told me that the grocery store was called the Piggly Wiggly, I started cracking jokes.
“Does that make the hardware store the Higgedly Piggeldy?” I said.
They stripped me naked and tied me to a tree.
Then they set my car on fire and rolled it into the lake.
“Anything you want before we cut your throat, Yankee?” said a man in a white hood and robe.
“Yeah, flowers and dinner before you fuck me,” I said.
He smiled, pulled out some roses, and dropped his pants.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Haggis!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Taylor
	Steven
	Zachmann
	Almo
	Katharina
	Anima
	Mick
	JRadimus
	TJ
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Taylor

Charlie the Gnome had been working hard all morning.
First he went to the market and traded what donuts he had for the
ingredients. Then back in his small cottage he had soaked and roasted
and chopped and mixed and stuffed the various items until he had
several plump round sausage. Finally, he put them in a pot of boiling
water. Their foul smell filled the cottage.
Charlie went outside. He looked lovingly at his ravaged donut orchard.
In a couple of hours her could hang the Haggis among the donut trees.
That should keep the Bugbears away, Charlie thought.

Steven

“Welcome to Haggis Anonymous. My name’s Bob.”
“Hi, Bob,” the crowd said.
“It started with bridies and a utilikilt,” Bob said. “Just a little
something at the Renfair. Then I tried blood pudding – and liked it.”
Murmurs of sympathy came from the seated members.
“Before long, I wore tartan and piped bagpipe music into my office.”
Bob paused. “I’m a dentist.”
The others contemplated the combined horror.
“Then I ate haggis. Every meal. Snacks, even,” Bob said. “I went
clean one year ago.”
“How?” the new kid asked.
Bob smiled. “Eating the closest thing to haggis that isn’t. Hotdogs.”

Zachmann

Today we play our favorite game, “You taste it before we tell you what is in it”. Remember when you thought Chocolate meat had chocolate in it? You might like this as much as balut. Smell the aroma. Tastes It. Does it tastes good? Are you sure you want to know what is in it? It is like sausage made of sheep with oatmeal and onions then cooked in the natural casing of a sheep’s intestine. Now will you want haggis as often as you ask for Okonomiyaki, if there are any leftovers we can put it in Okonomiyaki.

Almo

Having no female heirs, James R. McTavish laid down in his will that a closely held family recipe for haggis would go to cousin Mavis.
Mavis looked sheepish. “Haggis?” she asked.
Jim Junior whispered in her ear. Mavis, a dyed-in-the-wool vegetarian made a horrible face.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Mavis took the recipe and opened a chain of Scottish restaurants.
“I never thought she’d have the guts,” said Jim, who invested much of the family fortune.
Two months later, Mavis was on the lam, absconding with the money.
“Certainly pulled the wool over my eyes,” Jim lamented.

Katharina

The handcuffs felt cold against her wrists – almost like a new bracelet.
She figured they must be real ones, even though she wasn’t able to see
anything through the blindfold. There was a sweet, chocolatey smell in
the air – she soon found out why when the sauce dripped onto her chest.
His tongue was soft on her skin, then she felt his finger on her lips.
When she opened her mouth, she felt his weight shift, as if he wanted to
feed her.
The very second the smell reached her nose, she shouted out loud…
“Haggis??? ARE YOU CRAZY!”

Anima

“You are trying my patience Jack, first with “getting back to your cultural roots” and now this “localvore” eating.
“Sorry, luv, but, ain’t they cute?”
“Yes, spring lambs are adorable, but soon they mature into summer sheep, then they’re winter mutton. Where are you going to keep ‘em? In the dog kennel?
Jack glances towards the spare bedroom – “You haven’t used the eliptical in a bit…”
No! Absolutely not. No way am I going to pretend our three story walk up is a croft on the moors just so you can make haggis for Burns Night next January, Jack Shay.

Mick

“Shush, Jamie, ye’ll scare them awa’,” said Auld Tam.
“But uncle, the haggis…” insisted Jamie.
“Hold yer weesht, boy. Dinnae frighten them!”
“Uncle Tam, you wanted to know when the delivery came,” said the boy,
hauling a clear plastic bag full of intestines onto the table. Tam
gave the boy a deep scowl and pointed to the door.
Jamie’s shoulders drooped as he walked off. “Shall I put the oatmeal
and sheeps’ stomachs for the haggis through here too?” he asked.
Tam abandoned his story and buried his head in his hands as the
tartan-clad crowd of tourists fled, green-faced and retching.

JRadimus

Have you ever wondered where those disgusting cultural delicacies came from? Well, I’m gonna tell you anyway:
Every culture hates or fears foreigners, and each developed a way to intimidate them. Drinking games didn’t last long. It became a contest of edible one-up-man’s-ship, a culinary arms race, a game of gastronomic chicken. But you won’t recognize any chicken on that battlefield. The Britons have Blood Pudding. Hispanics have Menudo. Southerners have Chitlins. The Scots entered the war with Haggis. Koreans have Kimchi. The world didn’t know what to do when the Chinese brought animal penises. An immediate armistice was demanded.

TJ

It’s untested! You mustn’t!
Chocolatier Charlie Bucket’s fanciful R&D department was at a loss for fresh ideas. So he dipped into that tired old “golden ticket” well once more, summoning children to the chocolate factory.
The winners were as hopeless as ever. Among them, Scots McTavish grabbed a hunk of red glop on a counter and ate it. In theory, you ate it and tasted whatever you most wanted to.
“Mmm … mother’s haggis,” he began, and then stopped as he became encased in a sac. In reality, everyone tasted haggis. Because they became haggis. The oompah-loompahs rolled him away.

Norval Joe

Robert sat at the table and glared irritably across the food at his parents.
“I hate Haggis,” he said.
His mother looked surprised and asked, “Why do you say that, Robert?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. ” I mean, who cares if Harry, Hermoine, and Ron love him so much. He’s stupid and irrisponsible. I don’t see why Dumbledorf keeps him around.”
“Dear, the character in the Harry Potter books is Hagrid. Haggis is a traditional scottish dish made from sheep guts, onions and oatmeal.”
“Oh. Well then. Compared to that, Hagrid’s not such a bad guy.”

Planet Z

I won an all-expenses paid trip to Scotland.
I saw the castles, the moors… the whole works.
I even ate haggis.
I found it delicious.
After I cleared my third plate, I asked the waiter what kind of animal a haggis is.
“It’s a fierce and vicious animal,” he said. “They use the guts for food and the skins and bones for bagpipes.”
“Hunt?” I asked.
I love to hunt.
So, I’m out on the moors, shotgun in one hand and pair a metal spoons in the other, smacking them against my leg.
SHHHH! What was that?

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Whatever you choose…!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Justin
	Steven
	Lewis/Dedric
	Anima
	Zachmann
	TJ
	Almo
	Norval Joe
	JRadimus
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Justin

Hey there, please keep that bag behind the counter.
Personal? I wont open it, I promise. It just all these priceless books, people steal them.
No, you don’t look like a thief. I make everyone leave their bags.
Rare occult books? There in the back.
Kitty, stay away from that bag. Shoo cat, stop hissing. Leave that drawstring be!
You’ve opened the bag, oh dear.
Sir! There’s a shoggoth seeping out of your bag, covered with mouths.
Sir, I know you said that, but the cat opened it.
Please sir, control your shoggoth. Store policy, whatever you chew you buy.

Steven

Assholes have destroyed everything I want to say to you.
You’re special to me.
I’ve never felt like this before.
I would do anything for you.
They sound cheesy. They’re all true. But you don’t believe me.
I understand that. I know why you don’t believe me. I know you’ve
been played before. I know they said all those lies to you.
I know.
They confessed.
They’re inside, chained to chairs. Every guy who has ever lied to
you, who has ever hurt you. Here’s the knife. Do whatever you want
to them. You choose. Anything.
Just believe me again.

Lewis/Dedric

A pile of coins were poured out of a small brown bag down on the table.
Johnny looked at them and was silent.
“Well? Are you going to take any?”
Johnny looked up with a confused look on his face.
“Which ones can I have?”
The man gave a chuckle.
“Whatever you choose…”
Johnny started to reach out for the largest coin.
“but not that one!”
Johnny pulled his hand back and started to reach for another large coin.
“Not that one either!”
Johnny sat silently and then threw a dagger into the pirate’s forehead.
I will take them all.

Anima

Daddy gave me good advice when I‘d ask him. When I started investing, he urged “Plastics”. Later, he convinced me to hold off on marrying when I was infatuated with Scott Peterson. He said, “That boy ain’t right in the head”. Daddy nailed that one dead to rights. But when he said, “What ever you choose to make a career in, honey, make sure there is future growth potential”, I don’t think he had a clothing line in mind. After four years in the private sector, Bettina’s Big Boy Boxers is going public. Happily, business is busting at the seams.

Zachmann

When I was young back in the early two thousands they thought that we would never reside on other planets and brass Bikinis were just a sign of dated science fiction but here on our new planet they were a good idea at least in our summer because the planet is fulled with overly aggressive moths that eat any cloth or nonliving animal Hyde. In the winter we take the leather and cotton out of the vaults. Most of the women look great in their brass bikinis and they know it. My brass Lederhosen and brass hat are so styling.

TJ

My director is staring at me. He’s made a note. I’ll be hearing about this move for sure. Stage directions were John crosses to the bar and pours a cocktail, hands it off to Wendy with a flirtatious laugh. We’ve rehearsed it a thousand times. In the dress rehearsal, I get nervous. I trip on my ill-fitting shoes from the costume shop and instead of a flirtatious laugh I drive a stage knife into Wendy’s side. A frenzy of activity, but my wife will survive. And maybe stop sleeping with the director. I pour the cocktail and drink it myself.

Almo

She came to me in the middle of the night, a perfumed cloud slipping her perfect body next to me the way she did in the days before we started having the nightly fights.
The fights would be about jealousy. They would be about money. They would be about time spent, not spent, misspent. They were petty and they were spiteful.
“Would you like to keep fighting, or would you like to make love,” she said, her breath a throaty whisper that aroused me like nothing else.
I thought.
“Whatever you choose,” she said, “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

Norval Joe

“Here you go Johnny, some nice asparagus in brandy sauce. You like asparagus, don’t you?”
Johnny looked at his mother and just shook his head.
“Ok then, here’s some creamed spinach.”
He made a disgusted face and shook his head.
She pointed at the table and said, “You have all this food to choose from, just pick one you like and get on with it.”
He grabbed a handful of beets and threw them at the canvas on the isle. They slid slowly down leaving long red smears.
“Thank you Johnny, that will bring us $1000 at the art gallery.”

JRadimus

He awoke with a groan. “What a night,” he thought. His mind brought him memories through the haze. “Mm, ‘Lacee’.” Through his hangover, he marveled that someone so hot had gone home with him, but he wasn’t about to complain.
He got up without disturbing his impromptu bedmate. As he stumbled toward the bathroom, he tripped on something fabric. It wasn’t silky, lacy or sexy. It was beige, stretchy and utilitarian: Spanx. He scanned the room: push-up bra, falsies, auburn wig. He quickly realized that last night’s “hotness” was not in his bed, but in pieces all over his room.

Planet Z

Leroy’s attorney waved the lawbook. “My client chooses ‘Death by buffalo herd.’”
The judge sighed. “There are no buffalo. Hunted to extinction.”
“Exactly,” grinned the lawyer.
The case was fought well into the Supreme Court.
And, with the help of celebrities and environmentalists, he won.
The legislature closed the loophole, but Leroy was safe.
Or so he thought.
Geneticists extracted DNA from preserved buffalo hides and spliced them with bison to clone and breed them.
Years later, Leroy faced the stampede. “Cruel and unusual punishment!” he shrieked.
“Shouldn’t have chosen it then,” said the judge.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Kilt!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which stories were the best?
	Steven
	Zachmann
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Mick
	Katharina
	JRadimus
	Anima
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

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Steven

For a moment, I expected the boy to present a bear foot dressed in
Highland tartan. Instead, he held out a bloodied shovel.
“I kilt my Paw with this’n shovel.”
Cool filtered air blew into my isolation suit. I patted the boy’s
matted hair with a gloved hand. “Where’s your mother, son? Do you
have any brothers or sisters?”
The boy pointed to the locked root cellar. We both heard undead moans.
“Paw bit Maw and Sissy,” the boy said.
I drew my pistol. The boy stopped me with a hand, raised his shovel,
and went in.

Zachmann

Hey Man, would you ever wear a kilt? I probably wouldn’t since it looks too
much like a skirt but it might be useful in the summer when it is over one
hundred degrees Fahrenheit.I thought I saw a picture of you on Facebook
wearing a kilt in that festival and you looked fabulous? No, that is not me
that the Kilted for her Pleasure album singer guy. Is it true what they say
about what Scotsmen don’t wear beneath their kilts? Not here. Why? Because
the one rule here is to “remember as always keep wearing boxer briefs”.
Did you see that cat playing piano on youtube? I think I want to learn to
play a musical instrument but we don’t have a piano. We only have an
autoharp. But have you ever heard of a cat playing an autoharp? I heard of
guitars or drums but never an autoharp. I will be famous just like Marc
Gunn. I could have my songs played on his Songs for Cat Lovers Podcast. I
will be the best autoharp player ever but I will not wear a kilt like Marc.
What? Yes, I will play naked. Cats can do that.

Norval Joe

The ogre scraped the last bits of meat from the femur with his teeth. “The meats the sweetest close to the bone, me mum used to say. Ain’t that the truth.”
He threw the bone onto the putrefying pile in the corner and picked at his teeth with a piece of rib.
“Germans are too chewy,” he chuckled, “and the French, too cheesy. The Brits are always lean and tasty, and go down so bravely. But the Scots are the easiest to eat. You can tell which ones have the meatiest thighs, even beflore you peel off their little kilt.”
If I win…..killed

TJ

It’s not easy being the new kid.
You want nothing more to blend in. And despite your family’s stated objection to school uniforms, you manage.
However, as Adam McFairn discovered in his first day at St. Mary’s Academy, his family tartan blended in quite well.
Too well.
Indeed, his entire class was awash in green check. On the other boys, however, it was limited to vests on white shirts and black pants.
His kilt matched all the girls skirts perfectly.
And from the reflections in everyone’s patent leather shoes, he was the only one with no underwear.
Sigh. Stupid wind.

Justin

Kilts on the ground
Kilts on the ground
Lookin’ like a numpty with your kilts on the ground
With the dram in your gub
Tam o’shanter turned sideways
Kilts hit the ground
Call yourself the big yin
Lookin’ like an eejit
Walkin’ in the highlands with your kilts on the ground
Get it up, hey!
Get your kilts off the ground
Lookin’ like a numpty
Blethering awa with your kilts on the ground.
Get it up ye!
Get your kilts off the ground
Lookin’ like a numpty with your kilts on the ground
Lookin’ like a numpty with your kilts on the ground

Mick

They had been running for days without rest when they encountered the pit where
the track forked.
MacKinnon unfastened his belt, shrugged the heavy plaid from his shoulder,
dropping the whole kilt to the ground.
Stark naked, but for his shoes, he picked up the large square of cloth and shook
it out, lying it across the hole and securing it in place with heavy stones at
the edge and dirt to camouflage the surface.
Minutes later, standing looking down at the body of their pursuer, neck broken
at the bottom of the pit, MacKinnon declared, “Aye, I killt him.”

Katharina

Her hands were around his back, feeling his strong body through the black
shirt. When moved down to his waist, she could feel the leather belt that
kept his kilt together. Smiling, she stopped kissing him, and slowly went
to her knees. With her hands running down his sides, feeling the soft
fabric of the kilt between her fingers, she soon looked the sporran right
in the eyes. Proving that he was the true Scotsman that he claimed to be,
she was pleasantly surprised to find so much as _nothing_ under his kilt.
She smiled even wider, lifted the kilt and….

JRadimus

“Does anyone have anything for Sharing Time?” Miss Carson asked, hoping foul-mouthed Marcus didn’t. She sighed as his hand rose. “Marcus. Would you like to share something?”
“You betcher a-“
“It’s ‘Yes, Ma’am’, Marcus.”
“Yes, Ma’am. Yesterday, Pa was shovelin’ horse shi-”
“Manure, Marcus.”
“Sorry, Ma’am – manure. Anyway, the horse didn’t like him standing behind her a-”
“Her hindquarters, Marcus.”
“Yes, Ma’am – hindquarters. So, she kicked him in the bal-”
“Groin, Marcus!”
“Sorry, Ma’am – groin. He fell back and landed on an over-turned milk stool. The leg went right up his a-”
“Rectum, Marcus! Rectum!”
“Rectum? It darn-near kilt ‘im.”

Anima

Highlanders have tried to integrate contemporary culture with their colorful Scottish traditions. For instance, shepherds spend months out on the moors, but stay connected with home and hearth with their blackberrys. Morning porridge has been superseded by scientifically balanced protein and carbohydrate energy bars. The most egregious trespass however, is the replacement of village wedding gatherings with wacky 20th century rites. Young women collect the week prior to the blessed event to play chubby bunny and design dreadful kilts out of toilet paper. The lassies don’t even tot whisky any more, but rather swill California chardonnay. Have they no pride?

Planet Z

You never ask a Scotsman what he keeps under his kilt.
But I ain’t no gentleman, so I tell ye.
I keep a pair of penguins under there.
Rescued the little buggers when I was a scientist working at the South Pole.
I tried to get the zoo to take ’em, but the zoo’s got all the penguins they need. They was gonna feed them to the sea lions.
Not with my penguins you do, laddie!
So, since then, I been keeping them under my kilt to protect them.
I also wear thick underpants because those buggers’ beaks be sharp!

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s I saw it move!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	JRadimus
	Zachman
	Steven
	TJ
	Justin
	Norval Joe
	Anima
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

JRadimus

My name is [DETAILS REDACTED] –a, USA. Six years ago, halfway through a White House tour, I really needed to take a leak. So, I snuck off to find a toilet. On my way back, there was a man ahead of me, turning a corner. When I got there, it looked like a dead end – but I saw a panel closing, and a glimpse of a room behind it. There were Leprechauns on computers! Another man saw me, and the look on my face, and it all hit the fan. Before we knew, we were in [DETAILS REDATED] –shire, England.

Zachman

This happened to me when I live in the United States, before we moved to California and worked in Fargo. No, I don’t think I ever met TJ. Soon after I purchased a brand new 8 year old Mercury Sable wagon, one of my coworkers asked your not in you car? I just saw it move. I go outside. My boss telling me that my car just rolled into a lawyer’s car. I must have parked on the only incline in Fargo. So glad it was his winter beater and my insurance paid for his repairs. Always set parking brake.

Steven

It’s not my fault. I didn’t do my schoolwork because Tommy McDonald
kept flicking my neck with his pencil. Then the teacher yelled at me
when I told him to stop.
And I didn’t put the monster in my closet.
I crawled into bed next to Mom. She didn’t wake up until Dad started
yelling again. He said I was too old to be scared of monsters, and
smacked me around for crying.
Mom didn’t say anything. She didn’t stop him.
Before I left their room, their closet door opened. A big fanged
mouth smiled at me.
I smiled back.

TJ

“Well?”
Carl had delivered about half his mail for the day. The rest was for Jeff, the IT guy on this floor. Jeff seemed to be lost in space, earbuds jammed into his ears.
Naturally Jeff ordered most of the packages. And while his workstation was arranged such that he could easily see Carl or anyone approaching from across the room, he was so engrossed …
“Hey!”
No response.
“Jeff!”
Nothing.
Carl yanked an earbud from Jeff’s ear.
Last thing he or anyone there heard was the tiny earbud speaker repeating “Don’t kill … don’t kill … don’t kill …”

Justin

Jason slipped alone into the bed. Sleeping alone was normal, but he got the bed, not the couch, because his wife was away for three days at the voodoo conference. He’d enjoy his last peaceful night.
He awoke running his fingers through his wife’s hair. His eyes flew open with realization. He looked down his arm and saw a thick mass of blond hair. He cringed. His wife always left loose strands around the house.He’d clean house tomorrow.
He screamed as the hair crawled up his arm. The screams turned to a gurgle as they tightened around his neck.

Norval Joe

The youths hid beneath the bushes and peered across the lawn.
“I can’t see leaveing something like that laying around in plain site,” Olef shuddered. “It’s disgusting.”
“Maybe, but I’ve heard those statues have magical abilities. One in the garden makes the plants grow better.”
“Give me a break Sven, I don’t think it’s a statue at all. Look, I just saw it move.”
“It can’t move, Olef. It’s just painted plastic.”
“Well, they should’ve painted more clothes on it. It’s nearly naked. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
They put on their pointed red caps and crawled away.

Anima

“What is it, Billy?”
“HURRY! I saw it move!”
(entering the dark room, mom clicks on the light)
“What did you see Billy?”
“Over there in the corner – I saw it move!”
“Easy now, champ, that’s nothing but your clothes from yesterday.”
(mom leans down and opens a trap door near the bed. a tentacle reaches out, wrapping itself around the bed post. mom delivers 50,000 volts from a pink taser; the tentacle retracts quickly. yelps of pain are heard.)
“But if you don’t cut out this nonsense son, I WILL release the monsters from under your bed.”

Planet Z

I saw it move.
The dragon in that painting blinked its eyes, curls of smoke rising from its snout.
Growling.
Then, that couple… the nice people you carried out of here, or what was left of them… he tried to eat them.
I screamed at it. I yelled for it to stop.
It didn’t.
I tried to pull them away. It knocked me down with a wing.
Those poor, nice people. Spending an afternoon in the art museum, looking at paintings.
The dragon awakening. Attacking them.
No, it’s not moving now. Of course not.
It has fed, so it sleeps.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Choose!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Anima
	Mick
	Norval Joe
	TJ
	Justin
	Zachmann
	Steven
	Arri
	Ishtar
	Katharina
	Katharina
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Anima

Melly, don’t forget – State dinner tonight. I know how long it takes you to choose shoes.
She HAD forgotten…
What to wear? The blue dress, yes. It conveyed a sense of serenity and quiet elegance. Very important at formal functions. Francisco would do her hair and make up. Panic! Shoes! Surveying the closet shelves, she furrowed her brow. No, she simply could not bear to wear anything as old and outdated as what she saw here. Edualdo would need to make her something fresh and fantastic, double quick.
That settled, Imelda called in her assistants and started making arrangements.

Mick

“What’s it gonnae be, pal?”
“I desire something to eat. Can you recommend a dish?” Charles asked.
“There’s nae dishes here, bud. This is a chippy, not the bloody Ritz. We’re about to close, so it’s haggis or pizza. That’s yer lot.”
Charles took a moment to consider the limited choice.
“Pizza, please.”
The deep-fried pizza handed to him, wrapped in newspaper, bore no relation to the peasant fare he had once enjoyed in his youth. He sunk his teeth into the crispy disc, warm fat pouring down his chin, thrilled by the assault of flavours and textures.
“Good choice.”

Norval Joe

The mountain man stood knee deep in the powdery snow. The pass through the mountains was still another 3000 feet above him, and the day was rapidly reaching its end. He hated it when he had to make a decision with no obvious ‘best’ choice.
For example, should he continue up the pass and hope to find a sheltered place to spend the night or stop now and find a place to conceal himself.
He heard the dogs getting closer and remembered the last choice he had made. Should he kill his wife, or only the man in her bed?

TJ

Jane sat (outside or inside) a (bar or coffeeshop) and drank (espresso or beer). Suddenly, a (Porsche or Lambourghini) swerved to the curb and the driver waved to her. It was Dale, her (husband or boyfriend). She (hopped in and they drove off, or she waved him away, choosing to stay with her new friend, Michael). A motorcycle pulled up next to her, driven by her sister, eyes flashing adventure. Jane (hopped on back and they rode away laughing, or Jane’s nails dug into Dale’s arm, or Jane sipped her beverage and felt the poison take effect). What happens next?!

Justin

Would you rather? That’s how the new justice system works. If you’re convicted, you have two choices of punishment. They did it to reduce the prison population. Many times prison isn’t even a choice! In fact, since they broadcast the results, it generates revenue with advertising and premium content sales. Some crimes get more viewers, since the punishment always has a tie to the crime. Robbers normally have to give up their own possessions, murderers frequently die. My favorite? Liars. Why? The judge can lie, saying any punishment they want fits the crime. Judge Simon always picks the best punishments.

Zachmann

Come with me, I want to take you to my new special place. I found this little shop a few weeks ago and want to treat you. You will not believe this place. There are so many choices here that I have trouble making my mind up when I order. I may have let people go ahead of me in line to have more time to choose.
I can not believe it I take you here with thousands of tastes, colors, and sensations. The best ice cream store in the world and you you choose to order plain vanilla .

Steven

She lays in the motel bed with him, afternoon sun hot on bare skin.
Two rings lay on the nightstand. Hers is a frilly feminine one her
husband chose. His is a thick, simple, plain band. He told his wife
what style of ring he’d wear.
He didn’t make a decision on his own after that. Not until they met.
She kisses the rough stubble on his cheek, and wakes him. She
carefully does not say – refuses to say – “Time to go.”
They kiss, and they dress. She will leave her ring on the nightstand,
and wonders if he will.

JRadimus

Hell. Everyone’s got their own version of it. We’ve heard of the Greeks’ Underworld with Hades, a multi-headed dog, and the river of over-wrought music. Christians and Muslims have the fiery bowels of Hell itself. There’s enough ambiguity, Christians have added variations on the theme like Purgatory and Outer Darkness. Jews have a metaphorical pit of guilt and shame. Buddhists and Hindus have a sort of waiting room for punishments before coming back to Earth to take another crack at Nirvana.
Not even close. It’s an eternal game of Zobmondo, with literal consequences. Choose carefully: that Devil’s a bastard. Literally.

Arri

He had to pick a fork. One led to prosperity and the other to despair. But which led to what? There wasn’t time to waffle on the matter. NOW required a committed action.
But how to decide? No telling one from the other.
This is important. Doesn’t this rate a vision or insight, a clue?
Damn, not a clue in sight. Maybe from the view of others? No good. No sight there. Just fog. Mind numbing fog.
Let go…
With that he removed the barrel from his mouth, the 18 wheeler skidded to a stop with two feet to spare.

Ishtar

I don’t want to make this decision, this choice.
If I do then it will be my end.
Is it my depression, driving a spike in my brain,
purposely making me insane? Everywhere I go I see him.
I just want to hold him, touch him again.
The bullets in my gun are calling me. Choose, choose.
One minute you’re here, the next with him again.
CHOOOOOSE.
The seduction of this depression is so, so sweet. The spike
is driven further. The hammer click is so divine.
Choose.
Again that word. I see the light. Click. Click. Click. Click.
Misfire.

Katharina

“Come on! Would you ever choose one?” he was exhausted.
“But, I don’t know whether the red or the black one looks better!”
“Darling, you look fantastic in both!”
“Not helping!”
“Okay, take the black one.”
“Why, what’s wrong with the red one?” her voice sounded worried through
the half-open bathroom door.
“Just put one on already! I can’t bear to wait anymore!”
“Alright, I’m coming.”
She stepped out into the bedroom with her black lingerie. With a quick
move he was on his feet, unhooked the bra and panties and sent them
flying.
“Looks better on the floor anyway…” he smiled widely.

Planet Z

Ash was hungry. And too lazy to go to the grocery store.
So, he looked on his Pokemon shelf, trying to decide what he’d have for dinner.
He eventually decided on his old entry-level fighting friend, Pikachu.
Throwing the ball to the ground, he watched his favorite yellow lightning-rodent explode with joy.
It stared up at him with beady black eyes.
“I choose you, Pikachu,” said Ash, and he put it in the microwave.
Bad idea. The microwave started to spark, and the lights went out.
Smoke poured from the kitchen.
Ash pulled out his phone and ordered pizza.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s Mucus and Eyes Like An Owl!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	TJ
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	Anima
	Norval Joe
	Planet Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Steven

I go over the edge of the trench with the gas. It rolls in thick
liquid clouds.
The enemy is surprised. Both of us are hampered by gas masks. My
bayonet slices up, straps snap, and his mask falls away.
His eyes widen into owl eyes, pupils dilating from the poison. Snot
and blood pour from his mouth and nose. He clutches his chest and
gasps to a stop. His bowels release staining his trousers as he dies.
I breathe in through my mask’s charcoal filters. I smell nothing.
I raise my rifle and shoot a stranger twenty feet away.

TJ

They couldn’t fault him for tardiness. New Year’s Day he was at work before the foreman. His attire was that of a sharp-dressed man, still living the high life from the night before. True, he could’ve cleaned up a little. He came to suddenly, hungover, nose running, stubbly and red eyes staring like an owl’s. But his penmanship was perfect – or rather, that of his asshole friends, who left him passed out under seven-foot letters, “I QUIT!” He saw them when his boss kicked the nearby aerosol can at his head. “Happy New Year,” he grumped. “Now clean that up!”

Zachmann

I found a metal box, well more of a cylinder. I opened it up and there was a creature who was covered in mucus and had eyes like an owl. The creature sat up and said “May I use your shower or at least a hose? This mucus kept me alive in stasis but it is kind of gross and I would like to clean it off me.” After it used my shower, it told me it had questions for someone involved in the Clay Fenton incident and asked me if I knew where It could find The Space Turtle.

JRadimus

He was led, still shackled, from a bright anteroom into the darkened arena. The chanting of the crowd echoed off the walls; the combined din throbbed in Plaq’s ears. His eyes began adjusting to the dimness. His captors dimmed the lights for this death-match for the benefit of his owl- eyed opponent. For sadistic aliens, these creeps were annoyingly even-handed about their ritual sacrifices. At least they’d given him gauntlets so he could grip his foe’s mucus-covered body. “OK,” Plaq thought, “so I can grab it; if I don’t find some kind of weak-spot soon, I’m toast no matter what.”

Justin

I never expected to be the one to save the planet.
HootBoy saw the danger coming with his eyes like an owl. A meteor heading to Earth. Some characteristic hid it from radar.
The Arm Wrestler strong armed the meteorite into gently resting in South Africa. It started in Morocco, and finally stopped in Mozambique.
When the rock broke open and an attack squad of alien adolescent girls swarmed out, that’s when I had my moment to shine.
With my power to project mucus like water from a fire hose, I just grossed them out until they all fell unconscious.

Anima

Shivering violently, John weakly raises his head off the pillow.
His nose is running, a marathon apparently, by the accumulation of used tissues by the sofa. Mucus is crusted around his nares.
“Honey”, he rasps, “I think I’m getting sicker. Can you check my temp again?”
This is his umpteenth request in 90 minutes. Of course he’s got a fever. It’s the flu….
“In a few, babe, I need to check on the livestock…”
“Hurry…”
“Where do you think you’re gonna stick THAT?” he croaks , eyeing the horse thermometer, eyes wide as an owl’s.

Norval Joe

One night, I’m ready to close the shop, the door creaks open and someone enters. I don’t see anyone and wonder if I’m under a spell.
When I here a wet snuffling, I stand and look over the counter to see a small creature peering up at me. It’s big round eyes like an owls. It rubbed its nose with the back of a scrawny arm and smeared mucus around its face.
It held out its boney hand, and said, “these dice don’t work.”
“They don’t work,” I asked? “Maybe you rolled them wrong.”
Man, little kids shouldn’t play D&D.”

Planet Z

The planet looked like a gigantic glob of glowing green mucous.
We built a robot to send down.
It looked human, but had eyes like an owl and wide feet to keep it upright.
They sent it down via a remote-controlled dropship.
Five hours later, the planet changed from green to red.
The dropship was coming back up on its own.
Nobody was piloting it. And it wasn’t responding to remote helm signals.
We rose three kilometers from deployment and docking altitude.
The dropship stopped. And exploded.
The planet turned green again.
We tagged the planet “unfriendly” and left.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Ninety-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… was…. um…
It’s A story from the viewpoint of an inanimate object with a Paper Sack, Full Moon, Beginnings!
The excellent theme music is by Guy David.
VOTING

Which were the best stories this week?
	Steven
	Norval Joe
	Zachmann
	JRadimus
	Justin
	TJ
	Z
Free polls from Pollhost.com

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

---

Norval Joe

There were vague memories almost as if they were the residual dreams of others. Separate thoughts of being jelly, or peanut butter, and bread, many slices.
True awareness began when it was slipped into the clear plastic bag, and settled into the dark with an apple and a bag of chips.
They left at noon, the apple and chips. Only the sandwich remained to watch the blue rectangle of sky above fade to grey, then black, alone in the school yard.
Warily, in the dim yellow light cast by the full moon, a stray dog followed the scent of food.

Steven

I found Maria by the airlock, avoiding hyperventilation by puffing into the sack. Her hair swirled in the spaceship’s low gravity.
She gasped “It’s starting!” before breathing into the paper again.
“What’s starting?” I asked.
She pointed at the porthole. I looked out, into the black. “I don’t see…” I said, then I did.
The moon, still dark and new from Earth’s viewpoint, showed a different face to our spaceship. We saw the far side of the moon. It shone bright and full.
Maria’s hand, now more of a paw, fell on my shoulder.
Behind me, I heard a growl.

Zachmann

I am sitting here in a closet waiting to play games and watch movies, I hope the first one is not Twilight New Moon. I love movies with good beginnings. I am will be disappointed with movies with happy endings unless all the children are asleep. Why did they wrap me in a paper sack? I mean it is pretty and has Christmas trees and missile toe but I cost several days pay I am worth Christmas Wrapping paper. They have cats and a dog. I should be glad that I am not under the tree. Alas, poor Teddy bear

JRadimus

Ow! Watch it, buddy! Oh, good gravy. It’s another dumpster diver. Scavenger! It must be a full moon. They like the natural light to rummage by. I wish he’d be more careful; we don’t enjoy the groping, shoving, tearing, and the stick with the nail in the end, you know. My purpose in this life was to help a wino hide his bottle from cops and have him slosh and slobber on me. Now, to have this guy toss me aside for a 2-cent piece of glass or metal is humiliating. I hope I come back as a notebook.

Justin

awake, glistening and new. What am I? I stand stately between three shiny walls and in a sea of brand new blue tile. Behind me is a wall of the same blue tile. My memory rushes back in. I’m made of vitreous china, a mix of clay, silica and a fluxing agent, shaped and fired in a kiln. The wall in front of me opens. A man in shabby clothes walks in with a paper bag. His belt and his pants drop. When he turns to reveal a full moon, I remember I’m a toilet in a public restroom.

TJ

As the statue of David, I am among the naughtier pieces of statuary in Rome. In the evenings, drunken old men slouch in hiding behind my pedestal to rest a moment or two, desecrating my ancient male beauty to make blurting and blorping sounds, taking occasional nips from bottles hidden poorly in tattered paper bags clutched in their fists. Recently I’d begun to take my vengeance, however, against these old Italian drunks. True, I am nothing more than a statue, stuck here in place, but even an inanimate object such as myself can present my defilers with a FULL MOON!

Planet Z

For ten years, a camera watched the back of the store on Baker and Seventh streets.
The place has been robbed a few times, but always from the front.
That camera sees all the action.
The back camera doesn’t see a thing. Just a bum, drinking Mad Dog out of a paper bag under the full moon.
A thug slaps the paper bag away, punches the bum, and stares at the camera before pulling on a ski mask.
He kicks in the door, robs the place. First one from the back door.
Too bad nobody put a tape in tonight.