Weekly Challenge #12 – Cycling/Bicycles

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Welcome to the twelfth Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was bicycles or cycling.
Ten stories were submitted this week, but one was 1,454 words long and the midget can’t read that much without his lungs exploding. Sorry.
Among the nine that made it we’ve got two rookie stories, plus the usual madness from the planet of insane bards, Planet Z. Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorite:

Who wrote the best story this week?
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Will from Smart Bomb Radio
Patti and Max
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
Rahel from Elms In The Yard
Kolek from The Kolektive
Chris Doelle from Riding With The Window Down
Lisa of Lemons and Lollipops
The Mystery Man From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme will be posted shortly.
(Feel free to guess what “Point your platinum sails to the North Star” means in the comments.)

And baby makes… um… three?

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Alberto was the first guy to admit he wasn’t good at math.
Jenny, on the other hand, refused to admit it.
At first, they tried to bribe her with candy to get her to admit she wasn’t good at math. But Jenny would have none of that. She insisted she was good at math.
Before they could finish with Jenny, she got knocked up. Seems that she and Alberto used the rhythm method and… well, you know where this is going. Carry the three and… whoops!
They’ve got three or four kids now. Maybe five. Depends on who you ask.

The Dollar Coin Dolly

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I hate to burst your bubble, but Sacagawea was no guide or translator.
She was just a common filthy street whore.
Lewis and Clark bought her off of that Charbonneau guy, dressed her up like an Indian, and “explored” her rotten every mile of the Missouri and back.
The whole “Indian Guide” story? Just a ruse for getting the government to pick up the expense.
Jean Baptiste was a wooden doll, meant to fool the natives into thinking Lewis and Clark were civilized folk.
It’s in the Smithsonian, unless they incinerated it to keep the real story from getting out.

The Wife

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The old man’s lawyers called his wife.
“We’re on vacation,” growled the wife.
“We’re concerned,” said the lawyers. “Now that he’s been found guilty, the fine your husband faces is disastrously large.”
“Are my assets safe?” asked the wife.
“No,” said the lawyers. “What’s yours is his. Everything goes.”
The wife pondered. “Is there a way out of this?”
“He’s guilty, but not sentenced,” said the lawyers. “If he dies before sentencing, the judgment vanishes.”
“And you get paid,” said the wife.
They gave her sugar pills. She gave them his heart medication.
She woke up a very rich widow.

The Hometown Hero

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Eleven wins, State, and Honor Roll four years running.
Bobby’s the hero of Centerville High.
Until the cheerleaders accused him of rape. I said cheerleaders. All of them.
Bobby wore his letter jacket to court, claimed innocence.
Uh huh. Yeah, right.
Didn’t help one bit. Judge threw the book at him.
After five years, the DNA got re-tested.
No match.
Suddenly, the cheerleaders did a 180. Bobby’s innocent.
The governor ordered Bobby released, and he was wheeled out to freedom.
He’d taken a knife to the spine on the inside.
The same knife they found in the head cheerleader’s throat.

Brass Blues

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Sauntering into the scene
Getting all’s attention
Looking for the cream
With loads of pretention
Misery is all they leave
For the money they crave
Discord is all they leave
Trashing reps o’ the brave
Hailing from exotic places
Lieing about past traces
Pick em’ off one by one
Until they are the Don
Looks don’t matter loads
Justs take a bit o’ bold
Fat or fine works just the same
When handing out the pain
Misery is all they leave
For the money they crave
Discord is all they leave
Trashing reps o’ the brave oh yeah

Argentina

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I told Argentina not to cry for me, but Argentina cries so easily.
Argentina cries during sad movies.
Argentina cries when it stubs its toe.
Argentina cries when it might rain.
Before, it was cute. But now, I’m sick and tired of Argentina crying.
People are staring to stare. They think it’s because of something I’ve done, but it’s really all in Argentina’s head.
“You’re leaving me!” cries Argentina.
“No, I’m just going to the store for some wine,” I say. “Would you like to come along?”
Argentina then cries some more.
I knew I should have stuck with Bolivia.

My Cheese

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Who moved my cheese?
You don’t know?
I’ll tell you who moved my cheese… it was you. You moved my cheese.
Don’t lie to me. Stop lying to me!
Oh, sure, you moved my cheese. But… I don’t know why.
Why did you move my cheese? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone.
The cheese wasn’t hurting anyone there. It wasn’t bothering anyone. It was fine.
But you moved it. You moved my cheese… somewhere.
Tell me. Where did you move my cheese?
Tell me where you moved my cheese, and I’ll tell you where I threw your elephant.

Weekly Challenge #11 – Pie

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Welcome to the eleventh Weekly Challenge, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.
The topic this week was pie.
Six stories were submitted this week with one of them being a rookie first-timer, plus the usual madness from the planet of insane bards, Planet Z. Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorite:

Who wrote the best story this week?
Kolek from The Kolektive
Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
Elisson of blog d’Elisson
Lisa of Lemons and Lollipops
Andrew of Dodgeblogium
Beck from Incite
The Mystery Man From Planet Z
  
Free polls from Pollhost.com


Thanks to everyone for sending in their stories, and I look forward to what you’ve got to write (and say) next week.
The theme will be posted shortly.

One Pill

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Alice held the pills in her hand and remembered what the strange lady sang: “One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small.”
Alice looked at herself in the mirror. “What if I want to make my ass smaller and my boobs bigger?”
The strange lady thought for a moment and looked through a leather-bound notebook. “If you mash up one pill in bananas and smear it on your chest while using the other as a suppository…”
They experimented on the Mad Hatter, the two Tweedles, and most of the residents of Wonderland before getting it just right.