Weekly Challenge – Page 89 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Weekly Challenge #73 – Lighter

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Welcome to the seventy-third 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 selected by Caleb Bullen of the Black Tie Martini Club, and it was: Lighter.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

WE GOTS PRIZES:
I will be sending the winner a prize… it’s refrigerator magnets for the podcast. Massive amounts of fridge magnets were mailed out in the past week… watch your mail, and let me know if I’ve missed you.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

ELISSON

It was a pleasure to set foot on dry land: my mood was more elevated than it had been in weeks. Recovering my land legs after stepping off the flat-bottomed barge that had taken me ashore was no easy task. I was giddy!
Having subsisted on ship’s rations, I had lost considerable weight. Happily, this made it easier for me to dodge the wharfside traffic, nimbly avoiding lorries and carts. I darted into the tobacconist and purchased a celebratory cigar, one with a milder flavor and paler wrapper than my usual.
Bedam! I had no device for igniting my cigar!

JERRY

The lightermen loaded the lighter with the light boxes from the dimly lighted hold of the lightly loaded ship and lightly pushed off toward the dock by the light of the moon.
The light lighter rocked as a light breeze pushed the lightly disturbed water into light waves against the lighters light hull.
The lightermen used the light ores to lightly steer the lighter across the harbor toward the lightly lit pier. Once in the warehouse the lightly armed police lightly steeped from the shadows.
What else could they expect.
They were smuggling contraband lighters into a smoke free city.

GUY

– I had my stomach pumped this monday.
They took out an electric guitar,
They took out a half used car,
They took out a lawnmower,
They took out a torch thrower,
They took out a wheel,
They took out some still,
They took out a baby,
They took out a lady,
They took out a song,
They took out something wrong,
They took out an old or login,
They took out a large evergreen.
I feel much lighter now, I can hop around like a happy kangaroo.
– Randy, when are you going to fix that hole? We just lost another goat.

TOM

It’s not easy being a celestial host. For one thing you don’t get a name or gender. He was just Incandescent Being 4830175/b. He became John after discovering John Wayne movies. The hyper analytic beings near him pointed out perhaps Marion would have been a better choice. Things got really dicey when John saw City of Angles. He sauntered over to God to get the skinny on this fall thing. “Well it’s not really a fall,” said God “It’s a float.” After millenniums of effort John final figured out the floating thing. It was just a matter of getting lighter.

LAIEANNA

By 18, Chad was a burly man, but also very simple. His size and strength kept down the teasing when he was a kid and even won him a group of rough and tumble friends. Growing up, they drank, fought, and dared each other to perform stupid dangerous stunts. This helped Chad become big, dumb, and tough.
At his first local concert, Chad wanted to celebrate with a waving lighter, like his friends, but had none. So he stuck his fat thumb into a nearby flame and shook the thumb torch in the air. Others screamed, he just yelled, “Freebird!”

CHRIS

I’ll never forget the day my good friend Andy Dufresne set the warden’s pants on fire.
While in his office cooking the books, Andy found the warden’s lighter sitting carelessly on the desk. Using his rock hammer and a pen, Andy punched a hole in the casing. When the warden tried to light a cigar, the lighter burst into flames in his hand. He screamed so loud every inmate in Shawshank prison heard him.
That evening, Andy was skull raped by a pack of horny bull queers, but he didn’t mind. All things considered, it was still a good day.

CALEB

Remember that old Alfred Hitchcock episode where Peter Lorre bets a Cadillac versus a finger that Steve McQueen’s zippo won’t light ten times in a row? I was thinking about that as I wrote my story. I rested my hand on an old paper cutter with the blade up, and flicked my zippo as I wrote. I finished the story on number 10. Would I win a Cadillac or lose a finger? When it lit, I flinched and down came the blade. That made me drop the zippo onto my notebook, destroying the story and my finger. Still… I won.

YXES

One dream haunted her day and night,
Relentless in it’s seducing call to her innocence.
She had already forsaken all of her friends and family,
Simply because she was driven by an unforeseen power she couldn’t deny.
She sits on the sun-warmed beach and loses herself in what she sees before her.
Big white fluffy clouds dot a bright blue sky
Marshmallow castles puffing up, floating in their majestic array.
Studying them, she is mesmerized by their pure definition and depth
She knows where she can find her perfect happiness.
Running towards them, arms held longingly upward,
She drifts to the clouds, lighter than a feather.

PLANET Z

Grace challenged herself to lose 50 pounds by summertime.
She hung a bikini on the refrigerator. Every time she went to get something to eat, she’d look at it, shrug, and eat too much anyway.
Her doctor prescribed some diet pills, but she only lost a few pounds with them.
So, she talked to a friend, who knew a friend who could get her something stronger. Much stronger.
When summertime arrived, Grace was sixty pounds lighter.
And totally bugfuck insane.
Sure, the bikini fit. Looked absolutely stunning in it.
Then they put her in a straitjacket and took her away.

OTHER CRAP:
If Garf isn’t too annoyed with my constantly screwing up the call to the show last week, well, I’ll be trying to drop by his High Tech Texan Show on Saturday to give a report on stuff, things, and this-and-that.
There a way to write reviews for this podcast in iTunes and other directories. I’d appreciate any and all reviews of this podcast.
Your Mostly Fearless Leader doesn’t command you to do so, but he is somewhat whinily cajoling and imploring you to do so.
Let a tiny slice of the world know how much you like or don’t like or could care less about this not-quite-so-bold endeavor.
Thank you.

Weekly Challenge #72 – The New Black

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Welcome to the seventy-two’st 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 selected by Yxes Delacroix, and it was: The New Black.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

The new black hairdos: the height of fashion
The new black cufflinks: onyx reborn as art
The new black tuxedo: rebelliously traditional
The new black patent leather shoes: reflecting dreams as well as light
The new black dress: enhancing beauty by obscuring it
The new black heels: ecstasy for dancing
The new black limo: engineered luxury
The new black chauffeur: trained Haitian bodyguard
The new blacktop driveway: smoother than driving on silk
The new black marble staircase: that brings you perfectly up to
The new Black Tie Martini Club: coming soon to Nowhereville.
This fall the new black is… Black

GUY

– Pirates doing pirouettes are the new black ol’ mighty grasshopper. We waltz around our captured ships to the music of Strauss, skillfully dancing with our swords drawn, cutting up brave man and taking out beautiful women for a spin. Oh – the smell of the sea and the sound of a good crescendo. Who could ask for more. Our brave man give out their best grande battement en cloche and bow. Purely exquisite.
– You know, that black tutu really looks good on you…
– Oh, shut up you… you… parrot before I cut you in half.
– It’s tough being a pirates’ parrot.

TOM

You might think the Prince of Darkness was a bit old fashion all gothic and medievalish. Not true he has always been a renaissance man the embodiment of modernity to the ages he passes through. Of late he still has a thing for Armani and Jaguars. The old blacks he calls them. His current blacks are Kisho pavilions and Lotus Elise 111S roadsters. Baxster the prince’s right hand man is always on the lookout for the new blacks born from the well of souls. Baxster is working out a deal for Dick Cheney heart. Blackest known substance in the universe.

YXES

“Stand by for pressurized cabin clearance!”
The young officer waited by the exit hatch until he heard the Captain
shout “All Clear”.
He opened the outside hatch to a wild flurry of oddly colored dust.
Carefully he stepped onto the ground of this strange new world, and
was instantly enveloped in a huge dark green cloud!
Slowly walking around, he gathered samples and readings of the planet’s surface.
That’s when he noticed his silver space suit was now the same green
color as everything around him.
“Aw, the new black!” he mused. Laughing, he went about exploring this
strangely exotic world.

LAIEANNA

“Oh my Undescript Divine Being! They built an SSOS Spa in our town!”
“What does SSOS stand for?”
“Sludge, Slime, and other Secretions. No more herbal baths. This is the way to go.”
“Spewy! Who would soak in that?”
“You’re totally being a Dwabble, Steph’anie. All Earth Celebs are doing it, fifth clone Britney, second clone Nicole, eighth clone Paris. Even the new Elizabeth Taylor is in.”
“Alright Grassflower! What does it do?”
“Only make your skin look galatrific! Starry stare that person coming out now.”
“She’s all red with purple spots!”
“Of course! Irritated skin is the new look.”

JD WHITE

The New Black descended upon us and filled our soul with darkness.
Breath sucked in The New Black and then expelled it into the mouths of those nearby.
Those originally infected spread the darkness to loved ones and strangers.
Fathers to Mothers.
Mothers to Sons.
Brothers to Sisters.
Sisters to Lovers.
Darkness, the New Black, filled the lungs, transferred to the blood, then to the heart and brain.
The New Black is now contained within us all and has been for ten thousand years.
And the timeless, eternal, endless sadness is that we do not know how black we are.

ELISSON

Gerald O’Hara stood atop a hill overlooking his vast domain, arms akimbo. From here, he could see the white columns of the plantation house, a house that sat at the end of a long, tree-columned drive.
He smiled. This was his home, here in the red clay of Georgia. Tara.
As the sun set, he walked back, his stomach already rumbling in happy anticipation of Mammy’s cooking. Washing quickly, he joined his family in the dining room, where an unfamiliar house-servant was ladling soup from a tureen.
“Who’s this?” Gerald asked.
Scarlett responded, “Why Daddy, this is the New Black.”

CEE

Everybody made fun of Coca Cola for doing that Virtual Thirst campaign, but I think it was to make people forget about their whole New Coke disaster twenty years ago.
The best way to get people to forget about a disaster is to make a bigger one, right?
Remember when Sherwin Williams tried to make The New Black? They were going to reformulate the paint, change the color of black itself, set the standard for a new century kind of thing?
Then they gave it up, released Black Classic, blah blah.
You know, that paint tasted just like New Coke.

OTHER CRAP:
Carnal Knowledge is a book by one of my favorite daily podcasters, Charles Hodgson. I owe this podcast’s continues survival to his inspiration, since I often come up with my stories around the words he reviews and tales he spins about their odd origins.
If Garf isn’t too annoyed with my constantly screwing up the call to the show last week, well, I’ll be trying to drop by his High Tech Texan Show on Saturday to give a report on SL in business, that kind of thing.
There’s some kind of write-a-review podcast contest out there at Podcast Pickle going on.
Write reviews, win prizes. That sort of thing.
There’s also a way to write reviews for this podcast in iTunes and other directories.
Your Mostly Fearless Leader doesn’t command you to do so, but he is somewhat whinily cajoling and imploring you to do so.
Let a tiny slice of the world know how much you like or don’t like or could care less about this not-quite-so-bold endeavor.
Thank you.

Weekly Challenge #71 – Pink

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Welcome to the seventy-first 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 selected by Planet Z, and it was: Pink.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

YXES

Two pills to choose…one white and one red.
The instructions say: “If you’re feeling blue, take one pill only.
Warning: May cause moments of colorific hallucinations.”
“I wonder what that means?” she contemplates.
She picks the white pill. The whole world turns white! Weird!
She takes the red pill. Everything around her turns red! Surreal!
“This can’t be all they do!” she ponders, then smiles impishly.
She takes one of each. Her head spins dizzily!
She slowly opens her eyes, in a state of heightened anticipation.
Astonished, she shouts out gleefully,
“Pink. Everything’s Pink! Absolute Perfection!”

DISMAY

Do you believe in fairies? I do.
I once met a strange salesperson. She said: “If you are lonely and you believe, plant this magical seed.” A stack of pink packages were sitting beside her.
I’m lonely, I thought. So I bought a package, went home, read the instructions and planted the seeds in a pot. I believe.
The next morning I found a tiny winged young woman, who strangely resembled the pop singer Pink, in the pot smiling up at me. She said, “Let’s get this party started.” It was a nice surprise, but I still wonder. Why Pink?

GUY DAVID

She wore a pink ribbon
And a pretty pink dress
Everyone loved dear Betty
She was the fairest of them all
Everyone brightened and cheered
As she walked past the street
Said “Hello” and “How are you?”
And gave her a treat
She also had many suiters
Standing in line at her door
Wanting to meet her
And maybe to score
She was generous with them
And let them inside
They always came out
Glowing pink and with pride
Eyes where turned back in wonder
As she wilded her ax
She murdered little children
And cut old ladies in half

MATTHEW

My blushing bride was beautiful in every way. Her face was soft and her smile was bright. She smiled coyly, as she approached the altar slowly. Her dress, so white and pure, offered no resistance, sliding smoothly on the floor.
“I do,” I said, and she did too.
Her cheeks grew further pink when I kissed her softly in front of all. Our lives ended here; a new life begun as one.
Only her life truly did end: a sudden attack of a heart full of joy. Her cheeks no longer pink. Into the cold of death she did sink.

TOM

Everyone has a nemesis. Who with rod and sword cuts one down to size. Sometimes that tester is huge dark and fiery. Sometimes the tester is gaunt pale frosty. Lawrence’s nemesis was Pink. A six foot bunny with a six foot rod. When Pink swung his sword he swore at Lawrence “Get bigger you bugger.”
On one occasion Lawrence lit up a match and placed it under his palm. Pink had no option but to do the same. After a minute the Bunny screamed and crushed the match.
“What’s the trick?” asked Pink
“Not caring.” said Lawrence growing larger then life.

LAIEANNA

Poor Timmy, size to small
Bullied by boys, one and all
On his way or at school grounds
They sought him out for a good face pound
All for a pink lunchbox with a tiny bell
That chimed lightly when he’d skip to his hell
“Why use that? Are you a girl?
Where are your laces and pretty pearls?”
Timmy held it with all kinds of pride
Whispering “There’s magic inside.”
They laughed and grabbed, flinging his lunch
Gone was his sandwich, and cheetos with crunch
Including his pudding, favorite flavor vanilla
But also came out was an angry gorilla

Each state had a flag that men could rally to, charge up hills behind, carry in front of parades, you know, do all that swell stuff that makes for great stories while setting around the cracker barrel shooting the shi…you know what I mean.
Well the General wanted a flag for the whole country. What he wanted needed to symbolize the struggles of the past, the hopes for the future, the unity of the present.
Something that would make great propaganda.
Well, Betsy made a glorious flag.
And then she washed it.
In hot water.
Red, Pink, and Blue.

ELISSON

I tell the tale of Pincus Pink
Who lives under the kitchen sink.
Is Pincus crazy? Ask a shrink –
For Pincus is my friend.
The day I first met Pincus Pink
I saw him at the skating rink.
He drank a most peculiar drink –
A whiskey-prune juice blend.
Say what you will of Pincus Pink:
He does not care what others think.
He uses epithets like “Chink”
Which drives folks ’round the bend.
The living space of Pincus Pink –
It has a noticeable stink,
A pong to make a strong man blink,
And then his clothing rend.

CALEB

There is… Where?
There’s a rumor! Eek! Cut it out!
There’s a rumor going around and It’s making me dizzy.
There’s a rumor going around and round and around and where she stops nobody knows Whee!..
There’s a rumor going around about my seeing pink. Pink a dink a doo a dink a dee a dink a doo oh what a croon for tuning!… No.
There’s a rumor going around about my seeing pink ella… ella Fitzgerald, NO! Mel Torme? No!
There’s a rumor going around about my seeing pink elephants! But it’s not true! We’re just good friends… really!

CHRISTOPHER

Hey.
I’m bored.
Care to go skipping stones and feet on Saturn’s rings with me?
We can hitch a ride from the next passing comet.
Stop for a snack on Jupiter’s moons.
Swim in Neptune
and
console Pluto
before turning back.
On the way in, slide down the tail of a shooting star.
What do you say?
Let’s see what’s out there.
I’ll swing by in Haley’s ride around civil twilight.
Pick up a tank of gas in the sea of tranquility, then sling shot past the sun.
On more open stretches we’ll see what this thing
can
really
do.

For some people, the shade of pink they were born with is perfectly adequate for their skin.
But for the vast majority, a little something different is needed.
Some red on their nails…
Perhaps a little something on the lips…
A little blue over the eyes, too?
How they achieve this change, well, that can be horribly expensive and quite possibly dangerous… and unhealthy.
To us, that’s what we call “profit.”
And if a few monkeys or bunny rabbits have to die, that’s too damn bad.
Besides, they’re much cheaper than the prisoners we used to test this crap on.

Weekly Challenge #70 – Tears Of Joy

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Welcome to the seventieth 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 selected by Caleb of the Black Tie Martini Club, and it was: Tears Of Joy.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

When I heard that the love of my life was marrying another man, I said I was crying tears of joy, but, no. I wasn’t happy.
Now, when he got run over by a bus? Okay, those were tears of joy. But I said to her I was sad.
I was there for her. And, well, sure enough… she wanted to marry someone else.
They planned this skydiving marriage.
Her parachute worked. The preacher’s worked.
His didn’t.
Then she wanted to marry another woman. And…
I don’t know what to feel now.
I guess she’s just a fucked up bitch.

YXES

She awakes, smiling as the sun warms her face.
Remembering the events from the night before, a quick spike of
electricity shivers through her body.
Drifting back to the memory of his hands and lips loving every inch of
her, she remembers the sensuous ecstasy.
She vividly recalls the sheer satisfaction of the totally immersing
pleasure they had shared.
She can still hear his sweet romantic voice whisper in her ear, as she
relives her greatest fantasy coming true.
She cries quietly, her tears of joy, as the overwhelming emotions of
their love carries her over that brink once again.

GUY

I was just sitting there with my good friend Lony, knitting a sweater for my baby dragon, when my grandson walks in with tears of joy in his eyes. He doesn’t even pause for his favorite Salamander Eye snack. He says:
“Grandma Shunra, I did it, I turned my friend Blanchard into a log”. His first time. What a joy for us all, that is, all except dear Lony who says: “at his age I already turned people into bowls of soup and ate them, he is such a slow developer that kid”, so… I turned her into a frog.

She was blue.
White clad doctors bent over the small body.
Blue, why was she blue?
Down the hall, behind the glass, others were a healthy pink.
She was blue. Why?
The doctor, poking, prodding, caring, covered her nose and mouth with a mask the size of a thimble.
Blue.
The clean, clear oxygen flowed into her body.
The blue began to fade.
Her eyes opened and those beautiful new green gold orbs looked into my aged blue eyes.
The perfect, small hand came up, pushed the mask away.
She smiled into me and tears of joy filled my heart.

TOM

Shema and Shoge thumbed through their respected copies of the Rising Sun Times. The headline glared CAS wins NAFTA decision against the Trail of Tears Corp. “Is that the Tears of Joy Indian brand cigarette case?” asked Shoge. “Yes it seems NAFTA Judge GW Bush ruled in favor of the Confederated Atlantic States. When CAS President Iron Eyes Cody was asked for comment he stated ‘Let Mr. Bush enforce the ruling.’ Shema loved the Tear of Joy commercials “HALF THE PRICE – DOUBLE THE NICOTINE” then this white guy doubles over coughing. Shoge poured another shot of OLD ANDY Everclear.

ELISSON

Ricardo Cabeza was the clumsiest cook ever to work the line at the Gowanus Lounge.
His orders would come out perfect, but always at the expense of seared fingers and trodden-upon toes. Working alone, he would trip all over himself; on the line, he created hopeless chaos.
Finally, his coworkers had had enough. They prevailed upon the owner to promote him to Executive Chef. He’d help make the restaurant a success, and he’d be out of everybody’s way.
Ricardo was ecstatic. In his excitement he squirted himself in the eye with dishwashing detergent…
…but his tears were tears of Joy.

LAIEANNA

The gypsy slid two more bottles towards Catherine. “For perfect potion you need to mix three drops Blood of Burning Lust, Eight drops Tears of Joy, Two skin flakes infatuation, and one drop saliva of heartache just before he drinks.”
Catherine stared in disbelief. “Aphrodite, huh? Shouldn’t you be on Mount Olympus?”
“Times change,” shrugged the gypsy
“Can you prove you’re the goddess?”
“Of course,” sighed the gypsy, shuffling to the caravan’s window. Pulling back the curtain, she revealed countless men staring in with desire. “Shew human knats or face the wrath of Hephaestus’s mighty lawnmower when he gets home!”

CHRIS

Are illegal immigrant retards taking jobs from America’s retards?
A Stanford University survey of the grocery chains in the Palo Alto area found that 47% of the baggers, cart retrievers and greeters were undocumented retards, that’s up from 32% last year.
Store manager Kyle Jenkins had this to say: “Look, I tried hiring American retards, but Mexican retards work much cheaper and are just as retarded. The last few I hired wept tears of joy when I paid them in M&Ms.”
Upon hearing Jenkin’s statement, Lotney Fratelli, steward of the local retard union offered the following rebuttal: “Hey you guys!”

OTHER CRAP:
Meryl Yourish was graceful enough not to call me a complete moron for my calling her instead of Elisson this week.
Shire Network News will feature one of my pieces for the 100th episode. Yay!
Carnal Knowledge is a book by one of my favorite daily podcasters, Charles Hodgson. I owe this podcast’s continues survival to his inspiration, since I often come up with my stories around the words he reviews and tales he spins about their odd origins.
There’s some kind of write-a-review podcast contest out there at Podcast Pickle going on.
Write reviews, win prizes. That sort of thing.
There’s also a way to write reviews for this podcast in iTunes and other directories.
Your Mostly Fearless Leader doesn’t command you to do so, but he is somewhat whinily cajoling and imploring you to do so.
Let a tiny slice of the world know how much you like or don’t like or could care less about this not-quite-so-bold endeavor.
Thank you.

Weekly Challenge #69 – Yeshiva

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Welcome to the sixty-ninth 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 selected by Tom of the Footnote Podcast, and it was: Yeshiva.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

The Hindu God, Shiva
Went to the Yeshiva
To see what these Jewish dudes do
But he found that the torah
Is kind of a bore
And the baghavad gita is really much sweeter
Then came young Siddartha
Who spoke from the heart and
Said you are all just an illusion
From Hindus to Jews
You play and you loose
And create such a raucous confusion
Jesus and Allah
They fought in some wars
While the Taoists just planted a garden
But the Truth lies you see
Down in the valley
Twixt the rounded hills of Dolly Parton
Shes Big!

ELISSON

Yossel Yourish was one of the brightest minds in the yeshiva.
He was pondering an extremely scholarly matter, one that had been propounded to him by Professor Propis.
He spent days consulting various Learned Texts. The Shulchan Orekh, the Babylonian Talmud, the Torah commentaries of Rashi and the great Rambam: Maimonides himself. Despite all this, he struggled to find an answer.
The question: Was it permissible for a female student to use a bladed instrument to remove superfluous hair from her intimate personal region?
Of course not, decided Yossel at last. You could never shave a beaver at the yeshiva!

TOM

Little Timmy Martin’s parents were at wits end. The contrary child had chewed through every educational environment within a 200 mile radius. Montessori Military school, Court school, Catholic, Lutheran, Muslim.
The Martin’s had one option left Yeshiva. Surprisingly Timmy took to Talmud and Torah like a terrier with a towel in its teeth. His treatise on Cooking Milk in a Meat Pot was the Kobayashi Maru of Halakhah. Professor Zvi Sobolofsky asked Timmy if he might consider a Rabbinical career. And this is how it came to past that Temple Beth Bart Simpson is lead in pray by Rabbi Timmy.

GUY

Yantzel, Yantzel, Yantzel, what are we going to do with you?
You know, there’s a reason this is called a Yeshiva, you see… the word Yeshiva means sitting down… on your ass. You sit and study on the Torah. Quietly. You don’t go around flying paper airplanes on your Yeshiva mates, you don’t go around putting fake plastic members of the reptilian family on the floor and shout “the dinosaurs, they are coming alive”, You don’t put ice in my pants, you don’t go around handing notes to your fellow Yeshiva friends and you certainly don’t play with your yak.

JD WHITE

The muzzle of the steel blue .45 left a small round indention above my temple.
The blackness in my brain was clearing and my eyes again could focus on the stained, gray tile of the bathroom floor.
Blood trickled to the tile as the lump on the back of my head throbbed with each beat of my heart.
At least my heart was still beating, for now.
To my ears came the heavy click of the gun’s hammer, and that gave the answer to my unasked question.
I had come to the yeshiva to learn, and they were teaching me.

LAIEANNA

“See anything yet?”
“No.”
“I’m starving. We have to find something soon.”
“Well if you weren’t so scared to stop and ask, someone might be able to help.”
“I’m not scared! In fact, I’ll ask that guy right there. Excuse me sir, where’s a good place to eat around here?”
“There’s a lovely restaurant three blocks down. See Yeshiva? Just around the corner.”
“Thanks.”
“Did he just call me She-Ra? What was that about?”
“Probably a compliment. Relax.”
“I’m not even blonde!”
“Did you see his cool hat? Wonder if I can get one of those before we leave town.”

CHRIS

Hello Clarice, me again.
I heard you just got digital cable. Tell me, did you consider switching to satellite? Satellite providers offer many programming packages at prices much cheaper than cable. Or did you stay with cable because that was what you’ve always had, what you’re comfortable with, to afraid to consider change? We both know the answer to that one.
I hope you at least sprung for the DVR upgrade. The History Channel is running a documentary on Yeshiva at the same time as America’s Got Talent. You won’t be able to watch both.
Well, gotta run. Ta ta.

ZIGMUD Z. ZOROWSKI

It is my first day in yeshiva.
I come from a long line of Torah scholars of decreasing expertise, and the teachers wonder if I will continue that downward spiral into duncehood.
Sure enough, upon first interpretation, I’m chanting random nonsense that has the whole class laughing and accusing me of blasphemy.
The rabbi stomps to my desk, peers at my family’s cherished and valuable scroll, and gasps with horror.
Through the generations, tiny pinpricks of mold have grown in the writing, adding vowel-dots in random places.
The Pentateuch’s graceful and sagely wisdom, rendered into meaningless, illiterate Hebrew babble.

OTHER CRAP:
Lincoln Freak thinks Caleb’s Lincoln stories are better than mine. Heh. Indeed.
SL Woodstock begins in 6 days. Wow.
Carnal Knowledge is a book by one of my favorite daily podcasters, Charles Hodgson. I owe this podcast’s continues survival to his inspiration, since I often come up with my stories around the words he reviews and tales he spins about their odd origins.
There’s some kind of write-a-review podcast contest out there at Podcast Pickle going on.
Write reviews, win prizes. That sort of thing.
There’s also a way to write reviews for this podcast in iTunes and other directories.
Your Mostly Fearless Leader doesn’t command you to do so, but he is somewhat whinily cajoling and imploring you to do so.
Let a tiny slice of the world know how much you like or don’t like or could care less about this not-quite-so-bold endeavor.
Thank you.

Weekly Challenge #68 – Yak

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Welcome to the sixty-eighth 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 selected by Rocky Torok from the Northwest Territories of Edloe Island, and it was: Yak.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

TOM

Yellow Yoni Yurt Yearned Yuri.
“Yolanda Yellow Yak,” Yelled Yuri.
Yearling Yolanda Yak Yarelessly Yawned.
Yuri Yanked Yoked Yellow Yak.
Yolanda Yapped Yipped Yelped Yes.
Yeasty Yam Yen Yolanda Yielded.
“Yonder Yankee Yahoos” Yelled Yuri.
Yak Yolanda Yexed Yellow Yams.
Yuri Yammered, “You You You!”
Youthful Yahoos Yanked Yearling Yak.
Yuri Yelped Yipped Yapped Yes.
“Yellow Yurt Yet,” Yelled Yuri.
Yeshiva Yale Yachtsmen Yes
Yeshiva Yale Yachtsmen Yup
Yodeled Yearly Yule Yodels
“Yuck Yuck,” Yelled Youths
Yankee Yahoos Yielding Yearling
“Yeah,” Yelled Yuri “Yeah.”
Yarrished Rolanda Yawned Yernlessly.
Yielding Yellow Yoni Yurt
Yuri’s Yarn Yesterday’s Yarn
“Yakity yak” Yammer Yolanda

The 4th Mounted Yaks were the heart of the regiment. They had fought in every war for a 100 years. Each campaign had brought new glory. Each battle had added to the legend. Only foes knew the terror of the charge of 500 yaks. Sparks jumping from their flying hooves as they pound across a rock covered plain. Flame red eyes stabbing deep into the soul. Steel encrusted horns gleaming in the early morning sun, ready to gore. Line after line of hairy humped bovines closing in, blood lust filling their brains.
Did you ever smell 500 yaks?
Yaks.
Yuck.

CALEB

Poised the attack yak is ready to pounce
Natural born killer this fiend ounce for ounce
The fearsomest deadliest of all of the yaks
Very few ever see one even fewer come back
Hooves like thunder, lightning for veins
Joe went looking for one but all that remains
Are his screams of anguish from up on the hill
Sometimes in autumn I hear those screams still
Now we square off this attack yak and I
I go for my rifle I hear his wild cry
And how does it end with defeat or aplomb
To find out just visit yakpenis.com

GUY DAVID

The Red Yak of Destiny is an understanding god. When we need crops for the winter, he gives us crops. When we battle with the twotelgloo tribe, we win.
Last summer, I went and asked The Red Yak of Destiny for a son, but instead he gave me a daughter. I got angry at him. I went back to him and said “you gave me a daughter when I asked for a son.” He just smiled and asked me to bring my wife. Next summer I had two boys. Sure, they have long red fur and horns, but their mine.

LAIEANNA

The auditions weren’t going so well and Lydia was tired. She buzzed for the next potential failure to be ushered in. None of the actors had been right for the part. The company needed someone who was perfect to appeal to their target buyers. With a new product, the first ads were always crucial.
The door swung open. Lydia glanced up at the next actor shuffling in. Shocked, she stared in awe as he began his line.
“I can’t believe it’s not yak butter,” he said with confident surprise.
Lydia sprung up, applauding wildly. “That was fabulous, Fabio! Absolutely fabulous!”

ELISSON

Morris was a miserable Mongol.
He was the hindmost in his Horde. Weak of arm, near of sight, with compromised riding skills, there was no chance he would ever amount to anything in the empire of the great Khan.
Worst of all, he hated yaks. Loathed everything about them: their stinking wooly coats, their rancid milk, their stringy meat.
Unfortunately for Morris, the Mongol diet was 98% yak, 2% green leafy vegetables. Clothing? All made from yak wool, including the boxers. Itchy.
And, of course, everyone lived in yurts made of yak-skin.
“It’s enough to make me yak!” shouted Morris.

ROCKY

It began as a social experiment.
I wanted to bring in livestock to my community, for several reasons. Besides the fact that
I’m just crazy about Yak, I really wanted to bring a little something extra to my neighbors,
besides richer soil.
I noticed the other day, one of the females was looking a little bit sad. I’ve seen that
look before. It was heartbreak.
With a series of dashes and dots, I had Bessie stamp out in Morse Code what was bothering
her.
With a big yak tear in her eye, she stamped out in code her pain in one single word…
RADAR….

CHRIS

Hello Clarice. Don’t bother with the trace, I’ll be brief.
I understand you just had a birthday. Did you receive my gift basket? The hand crème contains a special moisturizer derived from yak’s milk, something you can’t get stateside. I do hope you’ll try it once forensics is done with it.
Tell me Clarice, was there a party at the office? Did the FBI spring for a cake, pass a card around for signatures, gather at your desk to sing happy birthday? Sounds charming; pity I couldn’t make it.
Well I believe our time is up. Happy Birthday, Agent Starling.

A mad, shaggy beast is running amok on Main Street, smashing cars and breaking store windows.
Sheriff calls for help, and a pickup truck pulls to a stop in the middle of the street.
His ancient boots are cracked with time, caked with mud from distant lands.
He raises his hand slowly and approaches the beast, humming a Himalayan sleeping chant.
The tornado of horns, fur, and hooves slows… and stops with a grunt.
The Yak Whisperer places his hand on the beast’s forehead and smiles.
His other hand holds a gun, and he shoots.
The town will dine well tonight.

Podcast Ready is holding a contest for referrals and signups using their very cool podcatching software.
I’ve been using that software for well over a year, and I absolutely love it. I just pop Ziggy’s chip into my system, let it sync up, and then put the chip back in the phone… no more hassles with downloading podcasts manually.
Want to see me win? Just sign up for PodcastReady using the promotional code CRAP to sign up, or edit your profile to use the promotional code CRAP.
To edit your profile:

Go to PodcastReady
Sign in with your username and password
Click on Preferences
Scroll down to Promo Code and type in CRAP
Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

Weekly Challenge #67 – Fatal Wound

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Welcome to the sixty-seventh 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 selected by Laieanna of Hodgepodge Point: Fatal Wound.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

STUART

The couple argued intensely as former lovers with passion as fiery than any other relationship anyone ever saw quickly descended into a flaring argument that could be heard down the streets of Brooklyn.
He said, She said thats how it goes. He smashes the glass bottle, she screams in anguish and pain
His body fell still, He could hardly believe his eyes at what devious act he had just watched and committed. It all happened so fast and then crashed into slow motion like out of a Hollywood blockbuster.
The blood begins to drip like raindrops on his cold skin.

TOM

The titanium rail gun’s sight was centered on that Austrian Art School
want-a-be prick. Wolfgang Z14 contently smiled as he pulled the trigger a
fatal wound for a future Führer. Within Z’s brain the holocaust vanished
replaced by a 1000 years of Pax Zionose Europa.
The spinning mangled marionette of a man suddenly righted himself, woundless.
Wolfgang Z tried to blink but failed to close his lids before he vanished.
The dead returned to dead, the unborn remained unborn, a golden Europe became
gray. When the time rift settled the last of Hitler’s genetic pool reappeared
and took aim again.

LAIEANNA

Ours was an epic battle that raged through timeless years, never ending, never slowing, but we were losing to our enemy. They were constantly changing with the centuries, inventing destruction in bigger, more powerful ways. And yet it was the simplest of weapons that we truly feared. We, on the other hand, always remained the same.
My day to fall came when one of their foot soldiers took an axe to my side. I awakened to the pain of cold steel vibrations. The wound was my end. With a push, I went down to the sounds of his triumph.
“Timber!”

GUY

There was a strange buzz sound. Something was definitely wrong. The microphone was not supposed to make such a sound. Than it made a gurgling noise. I thought “that is strange”, then I looked closely and, suddenly I could see it, the microphone was wounded, and… it was a fatal wound.
I gave it a decent burial. It was still young, but I have already grown attached to it. I’m now using an old mike I found laying somewhere around the house, but, it’s not the same. I shell always remember it fondly. That mike was such a dear friend.

CALEB

I told her that my love for her was like a fatal wound and that only she could save a life. That she was the balm in Gilead; that the power of love over death was in her hand and her hand only. But she just laughed. She didn’t care if I lived or if I died. So I am very sorry for everything. I’m sorry that such extreme measures had to be taken but be assured that it could’ve been avoided. Take that, you heartless bitch! I never said it was MY life she could save. I’m not crazy.

SARAH

She sat in the room quietly crying.
Crying like she had cried all those times he never came home.
Crying, like those tears would bring him home to her again.
Out of the arms of those other women who ‘meant nothing to him’.
She sat in the room staring at the picture of happier times.
“Fuck him” she muttered through the snot dripping from her nose.
She picked herself up and walked to the doorframe.
She slowly placed the noose around her head.
“You were never worth it…..”
Who would have thought a broken heart could be a fatal wound??

Yesterday, while walking home from the bus stop, I bumped into God. I know, your going to say “God!”, but before you do let me tell you that he didn’t even say “excuse me.” Well, here is God walking down the street, not paying attention to anything, in his own little world and, bam, down I go in a heap on the sidewalk. I know, I know, your going to say “But that was God!” Well, I say, the heck with predestination, from now on I go with free will and it should be a week before his shiner goes away.

The difference between a knockout punch and a fatal wound is a proud opponent who doesn’t have the sense to get out of the ring when he’s beat.
It helps if you’ve got a referee who’s trying to keep the fight going for the television network coverage instead of stopping it when over is over.
Coaches factor in, too. Telling your fighter to dehydrate himself to fool the scale ends up leaving him too weak to fight, too weak to fight back.
A whole lot of brain damage.
Kim went fourteen rounds with Mancini and went home in a box.

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 for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Go to PodcastReady
Sign in with your username and password
Click on Preferences
Scroll down to Promo Code and type in CRAP
Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

Weekly Challenge #66 – Driving 150MPH

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Welcome to the sixty-sixth 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 selected by Tom from Footnote: Driving 150MPH.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

LAIEANNA

Bowling night was canceled when Wilma insisted Fred drive her to Stone-Mart for some grocery shopping. That meant traveling across the Gravelway on a busy Saturday. Fred growled his protest, but they eventually piled into the car.
It was as bad as he thought with gridlock and dumb drivers. Fred’s rage peaked. He pumped his legs harder, watching the worm spin on the odometer as he zipped between cars. Wilma screamed. Pebbles cried. Fred was determined.
They got there in record time. Fred smiled at his accomplishment and fell out of the car, dragging his bloody stumps towards the store.

TOM

The last weld to the undercarriage was completed. The seat was encased in the center of the cage and it in turn bolted to a dozen points within the Impala. Four harnesses would be enough he thought
It was hard to maneuver with the reduction gears on the steering column. At 125 the vibration made it hard to see. Passing 150 mph he pressed the ignition to the JATO tube.
The Highway Patrol pulled a left molar from 125 feet up the cliff. We at the Darwin Awards Salute those who improve our gene pool by removing themselves from it

MIKE JAMES

Driving 150, its not really that quick
Honking and swerving are my favorite trick.
Faster is better, thats my way of thinking
Though you cant tell , I haven’t been drinking.
you cant hardly tell,what they yell as I pass
Can’t seem to hear them, through my tinted glass
Don’t these fools know Ive got places to be.
Starbucks, Cell depot and Panera bakery
So sure, my weaving and screeching and swerving,
can seem self righteous and somewhat unnerving.
I do strive for safty, to hit no one at all
But my tires just don’t grip, when inside the mall.

GUY DAVID

Space was heavy with debris. We had to steer carefully. Captain was forced almost to a crawl, 150, no kidding. Me was holding the banister. Good boy I am. Make no trouble. Do what I’m told. Then, red button called, said “push me, push me Moris”, so I pushed. There was a splash, and the spaceship stopped. Captain yelled. I had strange noise in my head, was seeing red, so I zapped him, I zapped them all, then blow a hole in outer shell. Now I alone, no one disturb my peace. How I love peace and quiet of space.

DAPHNE

I finally told him what he wanted to hear. He was so excited he couldn’t breathe at first then said he’d be here in half an hour, after all these years he wasn’t going to wait any longer and the first night of the rest of our lives will start when he knocks on the door. He lives 75 miles away even if he hit the lights and the traffic right, he can’t get here sooner then an hour and half. I have some time to get ready. For him get here in half and hour he would have to be…

BRETT

3 hours. 500 miles. she’s leaving soon. Driving 150MPH. Passing lane. ! No time to swerve. Sorry. Roadkill. Gas station. Fill up; wash tires. $32.02. 1.98 change. Vroom. Seen burning fires, desert, blue clouds, break ups, debris; in brief periods. Airport. Crowds. Parked On Foot. Key in Shoe. Bathroom stall. Palmed key retrieves locker contents. Torn page; Jennifer’s black book. Cell. Driving. Jen: …NO!!!”. Hang up. Map. Arrive. Parallel Park. Fresh Air. Birds. “Hello”. Ran down hall. Locked door. “Knock knock”. My pistol breaks lock. Alexander: “Who?”. I pull hammer back. He escapes. “My hero. I love you, Uncle Unschkidaunt.”

ROCKY

To whom it may concern.
I recently had my wheelchair upgraded by your company.
I did not ask for the turbocharged package, and I refuse to pay for it.
I am by no means a rocket scientist, but I do know that this baby should not be cruising at 150 miles per hour!
Along with downgrading my ride, I will also insist that you replace my soiled underwear!
I would also suggest replacing poor Mrs. Johnson’s cat.
Oh my God! I don’t know if this was some kind of sick joke, but I don’t think it’s funny. I’d kick someone’s ass if I could.
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Stephen Hawking

My name is Hoke. I’ve been hired to drive Miss Daisy around.
She didn’t like me at first, but we’ve grown close over the years.
Every week, she has me drive her to some Jewish church for services. Doing those Jew things.
Well, one time, it took her a little while longer to fix herself up, and we were late.
So, I put the pedal to the metal, and we screamed down the highway, needle throbbing at the 150 mark.
Daisy got to her services, but the cops busted me.
Now I’m spending time with my Cousin Red at Shawshank.

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 for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Go to PodcastReady
Sign in with your username and password
Click on Preferences
Scroll down to Promo Code and type in CRAP
Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

Weekly Challenge #65 – Tofu Pants

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Welcome to the sixty-fifth 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 selected by Caleb Bullen from the Black Tie Martini Club: Tofu Pants.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

TOM

It was the Patchouli. It does things to the mind. Her name was River nose ring henna copy of Gibran on the redwood burl India bedspreads hanging from the ceiling clouds of sandalwood and a Krishna poster in the john. Ever try to take a leak with a blue god smile at you? Chanted a lot Om mahneypod me om. Was writing this book called the Sensual Vegan. Which is how I ended up in downtown Santa Cruz in a pair of tofus pants. As god is my witness your Honor I can explain the Calamari underwear and sushi garterbelt

SYRIL

We went to the discount erotic clothing shop in search of edible panties. A dollar was too expensive, so we bought 2 pairs of tofu pants for a quarter. They were half off. Damn rats!
We pulled them on and salivated. Wanting to touch and press up against each other. With her hairy, dirty crotch visible before my eyes, I hungered for that strange taste. Wanting to stick my tongue inside, like raw fish. Delicious, tempting, and satisfying.
Were it not for the shivering cold in the bleakest of winters, I would have eaten my first meal in four months.

CALEB

Tofu Pants always has to have a cause. He’s one of these, “impeach the whales, no nukes for Tibet, Save George Bush” bleeding heart liberals. For the last five or six years, he’s been annoying us all about global warming, peak oil, corruption in the white house and yeah, he turned out to be right about most of it but he’s SO annoying I hate him.
What’s worse? Now that basically the whole country agrees with his wacky Tofu Pants bullshit, he’s switched sides to be a Pro-War, Pro-Business Neo-Con. Rumor is… He’s getting the Democratic Nomination. Stupid Tofu Pants!

TERRENCE

Raoul hated fashion, but he had little choice but to keep up with at
least the basics. Given his life span, forever, he would have been
looking out of date a long time ago and that would just draw attention
he did not want.
So every couple of years he would go out to the local trendy shops.
He would talk to the sales people and he would select some new cloths.
He had survived through togas, powdered wigs and bell bottoms, but
this was the worst yet; who in their right mind would wear a pair of
tofu pants?

LAIEANNA

“Hiruko, you no good samurai. Have no honor. You bring sorrow to our women! Children fear honor of their name never be restored. You disgrace our clan! For this you shall wear the tofu pants of shame, walk village street, and bare the bites of dishonor.”
“The tofu pants of shame.”
“Yeah, make him wear the pants.”
“You bring shame on our house.”
“My cow die cause of you.”
“I take bite to get back honor.”
“You shame our village. No more show face in city.”
“Your disgrace make wife barren.”
“I get butt hair with bite.”
“That’s good tofu!”

GUY

We make edible clothings. We have strawberry t-shirts, pineapple shoes and chocolate hats. We have many lines of edible clothing, fit for any occasion.
Mind you, we don’t make those depraved sexually related under clothings. We are a good establishment and we renounce any such thing.
We do tend to our costumers health. That’s why we came up with our new health line of tofu clothings. Our new model of tofu pants is very popular amongst the young, and once you gnaw it down, you never want to have anything related to that deplorable sexual activity thing ever again.

DAPHNE

I had enough I was going to take my revenge. I read about Voodoo Dolls and started to melt wax to mold one. I ran out before it looked like him. It had to resemble the intended target so I rummaged around the kitchen to find something to finish the legs. Once it looked like him I started placing pins. The next day I saw him at the coffee shop, he looked fine but what I noticed was his pants. They looked like they were made from wasabi paste. That had to have itched. I just smiled that was a better choice than the tofu.

CHRIS

As the top fashion designer and cook in all of France, it was only natural that I would eventually combine these two talents. After many long hours in the kitchen and studio, my latest work is both a culinary and fashion masterpiece.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my latest creation: Tofu Pants! You can eat them, or you can wear them! I am le genius, no?
Although I don’t recommend you eat them after you wear them.
But ladies rest assured that whether you eat them or wear them, these tofu pants will not make your ass look fat.

ALPHA K NINE

I hated the deceased. I didn’t hate him when I killed
him. I didn’t hate him when he invaded my home. I
didn’t hate him for the color of his skin or the fact
that he threatened my life. I learned to hate him
later.
I learned to hate him after I was accused of murder.
I learned to hate him after he was dead.
He made me a killer. I am not now, nor have I ever
been, a murderer. I am a killer, though, now and
forever. He made me take a life, and doing so,
destroyed mine.

When I was little my mother made me wear snow pants in the winter.
They were just leggings I wore over my jeans when the snowdrifts were high. But they were great for sliding down huge piles of snow that snowplows would push into sidewalks and driveways.
These days, whenever I go into the tofu processing tanks, I pull on my tofu pants and wade into the vast white piles.
There’s always a headcount of technicians going in and out of the tanks. Don’t want to lose anybody.
I mean, think of the scandal – meat in a batch of tofu!

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 for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

Go to PodcastReady
Sign in with your username and password
Click on Preferences
Scroll down to Promo Code and type in CRAP
Click on the OK button.

Isn’t that simple?

Weekly Challenge #64 – Existential Ennui

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Welcome to the sixty-fourth 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 selected by Caleb Bullen from the Black Tie Martini Club: Existential Ennui.
The excellent theme music is by Guy David
SOMETHING NEW
Due to popular demand, I am going to include stories that were sent to me, but without a recording. However, since the midget has left for sunny Coral Gables, Florida, those stories will just be posted in the show notes. You’re more than welcome to vote for them, but they will be ineligible for prizes or topic selection.
I feel that this is a fair balance between the podcast and blog natures of this content.
Feel free to share your thoughts on this decision in the comments, and we might possibly come up with an even better and more fair policy for handling these kinds of situations.
SPECIAL ADDITION
Rich DeSoto/Palmer of Audio Gumshoe, That Tickles, and Open Microphone on Los Arboles in Second Life (Mondays at 6PM) took a parody set of lyrics of mine and turned them into a pretty cool song this week. I’ve tacked it on to the podcast right after Z’s story, and I think you’ll get a kick out of it.
VOTING
Go ahead and listen to them by clicking on the grammophone thingy there in the left column and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

Nelson Algren sat in his mother’s bar on Division Street in Chicago drinking and pondering Existential Ennui when suddenly Jean Paul Sartre came bursting in through the door six guns a blazing.
“Algren! I’m taking Simone with me and if you try to stop us, you’re a dead man!”
“You’re too late. She’s gone back to the continent with some guitar player or something. Here, let me buy you a drink”
And so Algren and Sartre sat in Phyllis’ Musical Inn on Division drinking and pondering existential ennui while Simone DeBauvior sat somewhere in their existential ennui regretting her divisions.

TOM

The view from the tiny pumphouse on the hill is like one perched on a random cornflake drifting in the center of the milk of a bowl of cereal. The rim of the valley surrounds with its California potato colored hills dotted with frog skin valley oaks. It is a quiet purposeful place with underlining communalism yet tempered with strong personal Existential possibilities. Tonight within these walls there is no solace. The end result of a year of dying has take its toll on the vibrant existential soul. You want Existential Ennui in a word I will call it cancer.

LAIEANNA

God blew more smoke out the crack of his window. Harry hated people
smoking in his car, but this was God. He wasn’t a person exactly and
could you tell him to stop?
“Why not?” God asked. Harry flinched at the mind reading. “You
believe you’re in control of your own life.”
“Well, maybe I’m tired of being in control. Look at this god
damn…sorry…traffic!”
“We’ve been carpooling together for five years and that’s the first
time you apologized.”
Harry just sighed. God smiled, lifted the car, and flew it to work.
“Welcome to the fold, my son.”

JENNY

I remember the first person I killed. Her name was Tifanee…with two
e’s. She made me so miserable in school. Made everyone miserable really.
Bitchy. Bitchy with two e’s. I felt a little bad about it later. Well
not really bad but bad for not feeling bad, you know? And then after that
was Stephen. “It’s not you, baby. It’s me.” Yeah, you and half the
cheerleading squad. Sometimes I wonder why I do this? Why I have to take
out the human trash. Maybe it’s better to forgive. Maybe I’m not the one
who’s supposed to be doling out justice.
But if I don’t…then who will?

GUY

I was just sitting, drinking tea with my good friend Lony, when she turns to me and says:
“Grandma Shunra, I can’t stand this existential ennui. We just spend our life turning people into things, selling them various potions and casting spells on them. There must be more to life than this”.
“Yes”, I said, “That is our life, take it or leave it, it’s not that as bad as you think. You should learn to except it. We do have more then most, you know”.
“But what good is it?” Lony asked, so, I turned her into a frog.

FALDWIN

When I first read the prompt for this weeks challenge my response was, in a word: “Huh?” A quick Google search revealed an article explaining the phenomenon. I would explain it, but I only have 100 words here. If a person finds themselves bored with life because everything is the same, they might, in an effort to cure that boredom, do something exciting and different. But if that person continues to do exciting things he might get bored with excitement. Then he will go back to doing the same thing over and over again and the cycle will begin anew.

Jo says she’ll do you for the cost of weed, but there’s more to it than that.
She’ll want to talk. Sometimes an hour, sometimes more.
Camus, Sartre, Beauvoir – over and over.
Next thing you know, you’re both grinding away under the sheets.
Your mind’s been elsewhere, worthless in all this screwing.
You try to catch up, but she rolls you over. She’s finished.
And you look down – so are you.
Let me tell you: Existential ennui makes lousy foreplay, but I think she gets off on this whole thing.
She puts out, and yet, she keeps it to herself.

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 for next week’s Weekly Challenge will be posted shortly.

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Which were the best stories in Weekly Challenge #73
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Who had the best stories of Weekly Challenge #65?
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