Weekly Challenge – Page 92 – The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Valentines Day Special

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I shot my promo into the air.
Where it would play, I knew not where.
But fourteen arrows came flying back.
I swear, y’all gave me a heart attack
This is the Valentine’s Day Special at 100 Word Stories Podcast, brought to you by… you!
Thanks to everyone who sent in a story.

Sixgun Laieanna from HodgePodge Point.
Ted from Ted’s Podcast.
Patti, the sister of Ted from Ted’s Podcast
Tom from Footnote, who was nice enough to suffer two attempts at an interview.
Justin from Random Thoughts.
Elisson from blog d’Elisson.
Kelly Burt from Come Let Me Whisper
Tabitha from Strangely Literal

(and the Deranged Bard From Planet Z!)
If you’d like, we can do these special holiday editions every so often in addition to weekly challenges if y’all want.
Or not.
Anyway, here’s the stories, and I think you’re going to enjoy the hell out of them:

ELISSON

I was not quite ten when I fell in love for the first time.
We were visiting my grandparents in Miami, where they kept a mountain of old Reader’s Digests. It was in their yellowed pages that I met her.
She was a twelve-year-old Catholic girl from a small Quebec town. My heart melted when I saw her. She had sandy hair and wore glasses. She was adorable, and I fell hopelessly in love.
Hopelessly.
My love would never be, could never be, reciprocated. She had died of leukemia.
Forty-five years later, the thought of her still breaks my heart.

TABITHA

I am happy. After months of searching, fruitless dating and throwing money away at eharmony I have found the love of my life. My boyfriend. He is warm, snuggly, handsome, brave. He likes stirring up trouble and doesn’t mind when I don’t always look my best. He is the best boyfriend a girl could ask for. He can be a bit lazy, but it’s in these times he shows himself truly romantic.
So this valentine’s day I won’t be alone like countless ones before now. I have my cat. Wait, did I forget to mention my cat’s name is Myboyfriend?

TOM

Louie handed Sister Mary Henry a red construction paper heart.
“Will you be my Valentine?”
“I’m your teacher.” Said the Nun.
Louie looked confused.
“I’m a Nun.” She replied.
Louie’s expression remained.
“Louis I am so much old then you sweet boy.”
He was unshaken by all arguments
so the sister took a different tacked.
“I will be your Valentine if you make the same beautiful heart for
all the other children.”
30 years later Cardinal Louise LaCore receive his noble for his work in Africa Sister Henry stood by his side in hand
a frail construction paper heart.

KELLY BURT

Love can be questionable for some and absolute for others. It can be shortly defined or if you are lucky–often demonstrated.
For me, love is not an item to be wrapped with bow and displayed for all to judge its worth. It’s the unexpected kiss, a wink from across a crowded room. It’s really having the valentine feeling on any day of the year. It’s the way my “valentine” makes me feel. So, here we find ourselves at yet another commercial holiday. Thankfully, I find myself loved and not at the return counter of lost love. Thank you, Russell.

PATTI

Valentine’s Day was different on Earth; she was still trying to get used to it. Red hearts, candies, flowers. It made no sense. What did this all have to do with The Valentine Day?
She grew wistful remembering home. How the single men would prepare for weeks with a diet of raw vegetables and fresh corn. On the special day, a man would produce the most beautiful dung mound, wrap it in brown paper, and leave the package aflame on his intended’s doorstep. It was all in good fun, but plenty of matches made in heaven started that way.

TED

She told me she wanted it to be a “special” Valentines Day. She said she was ready to give me her heart. Honestly, nobody had ever really done that before.
How would I handle that? I mean, I believe that for someone to truly give their heart to another person, well.. It MUST be love. Real love.
How could I say no? Hadn’t I been waiting for this my whole life? I gladly accepted her gift to me. The time had come. She was ready, I was ready. With eager anticipation, I took her heart.. With a fucking chainsaw…

JUSTIN and AMANDA

So, what you want for valentines day, hon?
I dunno
How about chocolate?
No. I look like a cow as it is!
If so then you’re the sexiest cow I’ve ever seen.
Whatever.
Hey, I think that’s our song! Care to dance?
Why not.
Steve?
Yes, Tina.
You don’t have to get me anything. These last seven months have been amazing, Having you is all I could ever want.
You sure?
As sure as I can be. Just come over to my place and DON’T bring the video camera this time.
As long as you promise you won’t moo.
Deal.

HOUSTON KEYS

I’m the banjo playing midget Laurence keeps in his basement. I have a confession to make.
Everyone thinks I hang around here to read the literary masterpieces submitted every weekend. Does anyone think I want to read any more of that crap Houston writes?
What kind of name is that anyway? It sounds like a string of islands from downtown. The goofball lives in Dallas. How stinking confusing.
I’m here for my one true love, Laurence Simon.
“I love you midget.”

Weekly Challenge #43 – Staff Of Life

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Welcome to the forty-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 Elisson from blog d’Elisson, and it’s Staff Of Life.
Eight stories were submitted this week. We’re melting! Melting!
No rookies joined in, but a few recent rookies have been making up for absent veterans… yay!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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 a packet containing at least 1 refrigerator magnet and a CD with the archive of the entire 100 word stories podcast. (Well, minus promos and junk)
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
ELISSON

For years, the magazine was Required Reading in almost every American home.
It became a national icon after adopting its new photojournalism format in 1936. Covering everything from the momentous to the mundane, its renowned photographers – Edward Steichen and Alfred Eisenstaedt among them – filled its pages with Pulitzer prize-winning pictures.
But now it was 1972, and the tastes of America had changed. Sales plummeted.
Henry Luce called his employees in to give them the bad news. He couldn’t afford to pay them.
How ironic, he thought. It simply took too much bread to maintain the staff of /Life/.

TOM

I pretty much lived at the Staff of Life for three years. The bakery was owned and run by surfers, thus an extremely loose work ethic. When Wayne and I took over the shipping operation our Chicago ways rattled the Santa Cruz sensibilities. We worked 14 hours shifts and once we craved out a work space we guarded it violently. It wasn’t uncommon to see signage saying “Touch this and die.” And “Put anything on this shelf we’ll break your fucking fingers.” We were bad asses in the land of pauchlee. Where we walked whispers, “There goes Mr. Bad Vibes.”

TERRENCE

I bet you don’t know this but I have been written out of the book.
That’s right me, Raoul have been written out. I bet you’re wondering
why?
Well, back in the day, I was the only one that had one and I knew how
to use it. I had that little lady hanging off my finger. One day,
after our encounter, I gave her a snack. Well that little tramp took
one bite and ran off to share it with him. This upset the guy
upstairs and after throwing them out, he gave every man the staff of
life.

LAIEANNA

“Here’s the primary part of our facility.”
“Quite an establishment you guys developed.”
“We had to change with the times. There are a lot more people in this
world than when we first started and we’re not getting any younger.
It just became to much for the three of us to handle. Our staff is
fully trained in each of the duties, and we offer a great benefit for
our employees.”
“You mean benefits.”
“No, benefit…immortality. What more do you need?”
“Oh! Do I qualify to work at Fates Incorporated? I always wanted to
put people’s lives into my hands.”

CARRIE

My name it aint nothing, said Moses when God asked him to lead the children of Israel out. Zipporah quickly zipped off Gershom’s foreskin to appease Him, and saved the day. Moses threw his staff onto the floor, it turned into a snake. Pharaoh’s magicians did the same- He took the staff of life and hit the Nile. Blood everywhere. The magician’s copied. Moses stretched out his staff over the waters, frogs covered the land. The magician’s copied. Then flies, boils, hail, dead sheep. “Why can’t we do that,” cried the magicians.
“See what you can do when God’s on your side.” Replied Moses.

K NINE

“Guardian Angel Number Three reporting… That was a
close one”
K-nine had almost stepped out in front of a speeding
cab, but then had to stop to scratch his ankle at the
curb. As he blissfully wandered down Austin’s 6th
Street, Angel Five made him crave a hamburger just
before he bought a ptomaine tainted hotdog from a
street vendor. Angel Two arranged for a huge biker to
walk back into a bar before K-nine winked at said
biker’s girlfriend. Angels One and Four rested before
their shift. It was a tough job being on this
particular Staff of Life.

CALEB

Once a year they square off in secret, The Staff of Life Magazine and the Staff of Life Cereal. The game they play is ancient and deadly, similar to soccer or rugby but played with a human head.
The prize? The winners win the Staff Of Life Staff Of life trophy. They also get to sacrifice and eat the flesh of the losers.
They used to just play for beers after the game but ever since Mikey grew up and became team captain it’s gotten increasingly gruesome. You know Mikey, he’ll eat anything. He likes it. He really likes it!

KELLY BURT

It’s never good when a child realizes that they are cooler than an older sibling, but for Katie, it was mortifying.
She never knew of this less-than-attractive life her older brother lived. She didn’t know that there were secrets that should have been kept.
She won’t ever forget the scene set before her. The dice, books, and was that a G.M.? Alas, what will be etched in her memory forever is her brother pretending to resurrect a dead elvish maiden, “Live damn you. I call upon the Staff of Life.”
“What a geek,” said Katie, shaking her head.

“Give us now our daily bread,” chanted the room full of monks, heads bowed over the tables in the dining hall.
One stood up. “Johnson got a high score in DDR last night!” he shouted.
All the other monks stood up and cheered, and Johnson was raised to their shoulders in a victory lap around the dining hall.
The abbot thumped his cane on the floor and scowled at the raucous mealtime disruption.
The cheering stopped.
“Return to your seats!” growled the venerable leader.
He’d have to bust some seriously wicked moves to get the honor of high score back.

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.
(In case you’re interested, I’ve settled on “Clair de Lune” as the opening music and “Moonshine” by Michael Oldfield from the Tubular Bells II album.)

Weekly Challenge #42 – Toothache

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Welcome to the forty-second 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 Elisson from blog d’Elisson, and it’s Toothache.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Aww…. single digits!
Two rookies joined in… yay!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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):

The full text of each story:
ELISSON

Norman woke up, the side of his face feeling like a Mack truck had run into it.
Crap, he thought. I’m gonna have to see a dentist pronto.
It was his own damn fault. He had indulged his sweet tooth mightily last week.
It began with a cream tangerine. Then, the Montelimar.
He loved the ginger sling (with a pineapple heart), followed by a coffee dessert.
What was better, the cool cherry cream or the nice apple tart? Perhaps the coconut fudge.
But that Savoy truffle was the last straw. Shit. Now he’d have to have them all pulled out.

MARK FROM HOUSTON

“This is tough,” he said, scratching his head.
He’d already missed two topics since his debut. This was his grand re-entrance. It had to be good. It had to be better than good.
The others might have real stories this time, something serious, even. Not just an exasperated monologue railing against some goofball-topic.
“You can make a real story using this one. It isn’t ‘fecal matter’ or, egad, ‘horbrgorble…'” he shuddered.
“I can do this!” he declared.
He put the pen to paper, writing slowly, with purpose.
He had his title. It was a start: “Toothache of a Lame Tale”

BRANDON

He knew that eating the canolis from Vinny’s would give him a toothache. But he didn’t care.
And why should he? It’s a freaking canoli!
From Vinny’s!
Six hours later, he was in agonizing pain.
“Oh, why couldn’t I have stopped at the chocolate cake and cappuccino?” He screamed.
Fortunately, there was a dental office at the end of the shopping strip. With TV’s on the ceiling.
He could get his toothache tended to while killing time watching a movie. Like, say, a horror flick.
Imagine getting your teeth worked on while watching the Texas Chainsaw Massacre

TOM

Hannibal bit down hard on the census taker. Damn that hurts. He questioned his choice of entrees. Buffalo Bob Burgers might have been less taxing on his k9s.
“Benjamin be a dear and pass the Chianti,” alanulated the doctor The pain in his mouth caused him to slurp the wine. If it hadn’t been for Jamie’s fava beans the evening would have proven to tedious.
Raspail wore the chestnut Catherine Martin to which the doctor replied ” love your suite.” Later Lector’s toothache was trumped by Benny’s headache. Jamie’s consuming need to get a head could get under your skin.

ANDREW

“That fucking hurts don’t it?” His companion asked a bloody stupid question annoying the man obviously in pain.
“Well of course it bloody does I have just lost a tooth because I was smacked in the gob by someone trying to get away from the police.”
“Ah don’t worry you are a have-a-go hero…you face slowed ‘im down enough the coppers got ‘im.” His friend said jealously. “I can see the Sun headline: A tooth hero!”
The man with the toothache saw the press-pack bearing down on him. He didn’t know whether to run, pass out or just enjoy it.

TERRENCE

I blinked, my heart still pounding in my chest but, I was regaining my thoughts. The smell started off faint but quickly grew. You know the saying “having the crap scared out of you”? Well, I don’t know who he was or how he did it, but here I am lay in an alley with the crap scared out of me.
I stood and looked around; at least no one else was here to see this. I took a step and before I knew it my hand was on my check.
“Oh great, and now I have a toothache too.”

RAHEL

Theresa was frightened. Phrases like “oral surgery” can be pretty scary for a nine-year-old. But she faced the dentist bravely and told him, “Do what you need to do.”
When it was over, her parents took her home to bed. Theresa staggered up the front walk, holding onto her mother’s hand.
Suddenly a black-and-white cat darted in front of her. Pain and grogginess forgotten, Theresa sank to her knees and began to pet it. Then she looked up at her parents with a glance first of entreaty, then of pure astonishment.
“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she said.
The cat purred.

TED

I’ve read everything I could get my hands on. Learned all I could about the art of self dentistry.
One little kernel of unpopped corn, along with the momentum of chewing, and Blammo! I don’t know what I did exactly, but it hurts like a bitch!
I can’t justify the cost of a dentist, so my trusty Black and Decker cordless job will have to do the job.
OK, #45 drill bit, and wood putty should be about all I need. There is a little rust on the equipment, but I don’t mind. Oh yeah, I can’t forget the Tequila.
Here goes….

KELLY

There she sat, smiling so sweetly, looking as if you could hand her crap, and she’d have acted as though you gave her the world. She was the picture of some storybook princess, walking through the forest, singing with the animals. Yuck! About that time, my last straw snapped. I could not take this hippy-dippy, make-love, give-love shit anymore. I could not take one more minute of it. If I’d been made to listen any longer, I would have committed an inhuman act. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “Please shut up, you are giving me a toothache.”

A bent gear and a warped comb were sitting in a dentist’s office, both nursing awful toothaches.
“I hurt all around,” said the gear. “I should go first.”
“No, I should go first,” the comb moaned. “I have many more teeth than you.”
They argued for a minute. Then, the door opened, and a horribly snarled zipper walked in.
The comb and gear winced at the sight of the mangled zipper and agreed that it should go first.
“Of course I should go first,” said the zipper. “My appointment was an hour ago, but I kinda got stuck in traffic.”

Weekly Challenge #41 – Fecal Matter

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Welcome to the forty-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 supposed to be selected by Andrew Ian Dodge from Dodgeblogium, and it’s fecal matter.
Eight stories were submitted this week. Single digits… boo!
One rookie this week!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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… I still haven’t decided what it will be, but I will be sending them one.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
ANDREW

“Fecal matter?” Gasped the senstive 100 word writer, “what the hell is
that Andrew playing at?”
“Well fecal matter is another name for shit, or rather crap which is,
of course, the name of the host-blog.” Replied her friend on IM.
“But fecal matter what kind of crap theme’s that?”
“Exactly…”
“No!” replied the exasperated writer, “I have my reputation. What
would my readers think of such a tale?”
“That you are a good sport? Happy to take the subjects whatever they might be?”
“After all Andrew has to deal with the lame subjects you come
up with.” He replied.

TERRENCE

Raoul walked down the street from one pool of light, shining down from
a streetlight, to the next. His hood was pulled up and he looked down
at the ground as he passed the occasional person on the street. He
turned down a dark alley and stopped quickly when a large man appeared
pointing a gun at him.
“Hand over your wallet.” The man ordered, shoving the gun towards him.
Slowly, Raoul raised his hands and removed the hood from his head.
The man took one look at him, dropped his gun and filling his pants
with sh…… fecal matter.

TOM

Nichols Flamel roared with laughter “Je n’y Fourche crois pas” he snorted. His ilk had tried everything silver iron lead ivory mahogany polar ice.
The translation on transmutation by the Moroccan rabbi proved ironic beyond belief. “It’s not a goose egg,” he chuckled glazing at the Hebrew text.
Over the next month he had purchased every goose in Paris. The stench was over powering even by Parisian standards. The next year Nichols Flamel was the riches man in all Europe.
His alchemist brothers had taken the wrong path fixating on density and noble elements. Who’d guessed gold from fecal matter?

ELISSON

In the Land of Looxembourg, Fecal Matters were adjudicated by the Duke of Dookie.
He did not come to sit on his throne by noble birthright alone. He had studied Excremental Existentialism at Poopoo University – where the official Pootball Team Cheer was “Squeeze another touchdown out for Old Poo U!” – receiving his Dooktorate in Defecation for proving that shit, in fact, exists. De Facto Defecatio.
Now he was faced with a difficult case. A Stool Pigeon had caught the Vice-Chancellor adulterating his turds with Undigested Corn, a felony.
The Duke did his duty. “I sentence you to die…arrhea!”

TED

It’s a shitty world!
It seems that everyone is trying to take the fun out of everything these days. You can’t blow smoke in a babys face anymore, and it’s considered “insensitive” to torch a bag of dog poo on your neighbors front porch. Even that Lawrence Simon guy keeps saying that Podcasting DOT is full of crap! What the hell is DOT anyway, and why would you want to Podcast it?
Ah, well. Sometimes you just have to say “what the hell?”
I guess when all is said and done, it doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t fecal matter..

RAHEL

Bithia bent to her task. Like all royal children, she must serve in a temple, and today her job was to empty the litter pans.
Examining their contents, she smiled. Praise Bast, no more worms! Her formula had worked.
Outside, a whip cracked and a man groaned. Bithia’s eyes filled. “Lady Bast – or any god who may be listening – please put an end to that,” she prayed. “If only I could do so myself.”
Her work done, she summoned her maids. “I need a bath,” she said, leading them to the riverbank …
… for a dip that changed history.

MARK

His first creation looked just like Richard Nixon. “I am a sculptor,” he thought. Later, controlling hue and texture with diet, he produced other masterpieces: Beyonce, Rodman, Condoleezza. Artistically, busts worked, but abstracts just looked like piles of crap. He imagined himself the founder of poopism, the creator of fart art.
Eventually, he discovered, with beet-red hair, a corn-pearl necklace, and a greenish dress covering smooth brown shoulders, a perfect Lindsay Lohan. His wife would have to admit to his genius. He called out for her. She arrived just as Fluffy escaped, followed by the whoosh of the toilet flushing…

LAIEANNA

“Just two drops a day and one release a month. Yes, folks, you can now have relief from constant bowel movements with no side effects. Guaranteed! This is the bonafide real deal. Our remedy comes with all synthetic ingredients and is at low, low price. Step right up and see your life change forever.”
He was good and everyone bought his wares. Instructions were followed and life did change. A month passed, to the day, and every used toilet exploded. The town was flooded, burying everything. The salesman smiled and went back to his sales at the next sinning city.

Two monkeys walk into a bar.
The bartender asks the first one: “So, what will you have?”
The first monkey says “I think I want a banana daiquiri.”
So the bartender mixes him up a banana daiquiri.
Then he asks the second monkey what he wants.
The second monkey says “I want a beer and a shot.”
The bartender asks the second monkey “Why don’t you want a banana daiquiri? Don’t all monkeys like bananas?”
“The second monkey throws a lump of crap at the bartender. “Yeah, I like bananas, but not all monkeys are daiquiri-drinking faggots like him.”

Weekly Challenge #40 – Starting a new job

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Welcome to the fortieth 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 supposed to be selected by Rahel from Elms In The Yard, and it’s starting a new job.
Ten stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
Two few rookies joined in… yay!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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 going to be the fridge magnets, which I still need to order. Stay tuned.
It is your voting that determines who wins. So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
KELLY

Lilly winced. “This is absolutely the worst,” she thought. The body in front of her was cold–just a number now.
She just had to have a change. Insurance Adjustor wasn’t good enough. “Ha! Who says?” ran through her mind.
She didn’t know anyone who had every done this before, but Lilly was adventurous.
“Was this decision wise? Well thought out?” she began questioning herself. Bad sign. This was just her first job in the field. “Yikes! I can’t start this shit. I have already committed the murder. Now time to clean up. Next time will be better for sure.”

ANDREW

Looking at used condoms, odd stains and used toilet paper strewn around all next to an overflowing turd-filled toilet, Matt flinched.
“You don’t expect me to fuckin’ clean that?”
“Yeah I do that is what I am paying you for…” replied his manager with him on the first day.
“I never signed up to clean no bloody loos!”
“What the hell did you think it was for £25 an hour wih no need for qualifications?”
“It said Environmental Standards Officer!” screeched Matt slightly worry the men around him..
“Well he can clean me for £25!” lisped a man behind him.

ARTIE

“Hello, Bernie here. I am a polar bear at the North Pole, and this is, Sally. Say hi, Sally.”
“Hi!”
“Sally’s shy, so I’ll be doing most of the talking. I’m sure being addressed by a polar bear and penguin is surprising, but things have changed a lot up here. Recent expeditions confirm that Ice is melting here at an unusual and unprecedented rate. Something has to be done to reduce the greenhouse-gas emissions induced by humans. A ladder would be helpful, but if things don’t improve we’ll need a stairway to heaven. Please help us. Say goodbye, Sally.”
“Goodbye.”

GEORGE

Well, I suppose it’s normal to be nervous on the first day.
I still can’t believe I got the job.
But it was made for me.
If my ex could only see me now, the big bad ex marine.
What is that they say about always faithful?
Well, if that was so, we would still be together.
And always making fun of me, do you know which end to point at the target?
Look, its Jackie in pink saffron. It is her color, much better than red, which can just murder you. Now deep breathe and slowly squeeze the trigger.

TOM

“Barnett you’re with Ralph”
Staring a new job was never a problem for Josh or maybe it was just the selection of jobs that never took much trailing.
“You gots to do three things right every time,” said Ralph.
“Take the spring clamps and pin the vinyl round the rails.”
“Lock all four wheels.”
Ralph paused and shot Josh a no-nonsense glare.
“Never stop rolling.”
They pulled the gurney next to Mrs. Wade’s couch.
Wheels, clamps, roll, roll.
“DON’T STOP.” Yelled Ralph
Too late.
Mrs. Wade tore in two falling into Josh’s lap.
He screamed. He screamed a lot.

ELISSON

In my new job, I’m what you might call a specialist.
My profession is not noted for being selective about its clients. “If you got the dime, I’ve got the time” is the order of the day for most of my colleagues. Me, I’ve got standards.
My customers are all in the pipe and fixtures business.
Hey, it makes sense. The guys have plenty of cash – hell, they make more than surgeons. And they have needs.
I have needs too. My new job helps pay for my “medication.”
I’m not just a crack whore. I’m a plumber’s crack whore.

HOUSTON KEYS

I got a new job. It’s not like I changed employment. I’m a hit man. Same career, just different jobs.
Neb “The Neck” met me in the alley.
“I’ve got a mole in my outfit. I need you to eliminate him.”
“Who is he? I asked.
Neb handed a photo of an orange cat in a ridiculous clown collar to me.
“Sam price as always?”Neb asked.
“No, double it,” I replied. “For a job this ridiculous I need something extra.”
“What’s so ridiculous about the job?” asked Neb.
“Get real,” I said. “You want me to whack a mole.”

RAHEL

George is a good sort. He used to be in charge before I came, but he’s semi-retired now. Just likes to sit in the sun and dream. Well, he deserves a break–he put in his time, about fifteen years, I think.
Lately he’s been giving me pointers. “Don’t catch them all at once, kid,” he told me. “You have to give them time to reproduce. There’s a balance in nature, see. And you don’t want to make yourself obsolete, either.”
I’m going to listen to George. And I’m going to be the best mouser this farm has ever had.

LISA

Sean was thrilled to get a shipping and receiving job at the new plant opening in his town.
He’d made some new friends, learned all the ins and outs of the job, was working overtime and making good money. It was a huge relief his new boss hadn’t checked out his references.
When the boss came back late one night because he’d forgotten something, he learned (graphically) the reason why Sean was “let go” from his last place:
Sean and the cleaning lady, Margaret, were living out his favorite fantasy: wild sex in a large box filled with packing peanuts.

LAIEANNA

“I’m so excited to be working with this firm. There were so many different career path opportunities, but this is the one that interested me the most. I took all the courses necessary to do this job like a seasoned pro. Soon, I’ll be recognized and climb the ladder of success. By the way, thank you for taking me through my first day’s route. What location do we go to after this facility?”
“We don’t.”
“My, that’s a lot to collect in one location!”
“Wait till you see your clientèle.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Duho toof fairy!”
“Welcome to the lowest rank.”

The moment the crown touched my head, my new job started.
Not that it’s much of a job, really.
Oh, sure, there’s the ceremonies and interviews, but aside from my time in the Navy, I haven’t done an day’s work in my life.
My primary job duty is to have kids.
Already did that, and they don’t look like they’re going to turn out gay, so I’m sure they’ll have kids, too.
Oh, and I never wait in line, either. But sometimes people yell at me for it: “WHO THE HELL DIED AND MADE YOU KING?”
“My mother,” I say, and I walk in the door.

Weekly Challenge #39 – Illegal Parking

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point, and it’s illegal parking.
Eleven stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
Quite a few rookies joined in… yay!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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):

The full text of each story:
Kelly Burt

Pete had the night planned.
Dinner: check
Dessert: check
Moonlight drive: check
He chose the spot carefully, no homes, no traffic.
Pete had his girl–and a large backseat. He stopped the car.
“So, Pete, what are we doing?” Joan cooed.
“Well, I can’t stand the thought of this evening ending.” Pete replied.
“I understand,” said Joan.
Pete thought, “This is it. I’ve got her.”
But as quickly as he had it, it was gone.
As he slid his hand towards her seatbelt, Joan pulled her badge and stated, “Pete, I’m going to have to cite you for illegal parking.”

Randy Burt

“Park here. I’ll fake a limp.” Jessica barked.
Graham pulled into the blue-lined space in front of the couture boutique and scurried to open the passenger door.
Jessica popped off the seat of the Hummer and onto the ground. The jolt provided just enough space for her darling “Poopsy” to wiggle away.
She gasped, made a concerted effort to shove Graham out of the way, and chased the Chihuahua to the back of the truck..
Poopsy narrowly avoided the Prius that plowed into Jessica sending her Starbucks cup sailing and assuring that she’d never get an ‘illegal parking’ ticket again.

Mark M

The driver spun the wheel, the car slipping on the curving road. He stole a glance into the backseat. He had to hurry.
“There it is!” he yelped.
With one last turn of the wheel, he spun the car into a sideways slide. It jumped onto the cabin porch, smashing carved wooden benches, then skidded to a stop.
The cabin door swung open, banging against the wall. The Ranger rushed out.
“Are you crazy? Driving like that?! And you can’t park here!” the ranger exclaimed.
The driver leaped from the car. “I found this eagle – he’s hurt… maybe ill.”

Caleb

Hey do you sell any maps? I’ve been driving around these backwoods here for hours and I’m completely lost!
Is that your car there?
Who else’s car would it be of course it’s mine!
You ought not park it there.
Why?!? Is there a meter there I didn’t see?
No but…
Am I too close to some intersection?
No but there’s…
Am I on private property?
No but…
Well then if I’m not parked illegally in any way, why can’t I park there?
Well…
What the hell was that?!?
Satellite crash, I told you you ought not park it there.

Tom

Zackz Efrom Paroeshad was
the greatest engineer in the 20 planet consortium.
When outer ring representatives lobby for solar equity
Paroeshad answered with the binary purchase.
Using tackyon streams of
real time and historic nano matter
he had move the second infant sun
3/4 the distance to their system.
Paroeshad knew letting the baby sun sit
in Varsic space would have ramifications.
He was not surprised by the arrival
of the vermilion dispatch.
Without breaking the seal
he opened his ledger.
The fine was always the same,
700 pentillion lidens.
Zackz drew a line through item 23.
Illegal parking.

Laieanna

The car was rented under a pseudo name and off he drove. Five streets over and three lights down, he pulled into an illegal parking spot and parked. Putting on CHIPs sunglasses, a shaggy blonde wig and matching mustache, he waited out his nemesis, watching the clock and smiling to himself. The driver pulled in behind the rental car and glared hatefully through the window. With no other options, they parked and opened the door. There were cheers all around. Before he would pull his vehicle out of the way, Laurence was sure to give bus number 9 the finger.

Andrew

I was being accused of illegal parking by a rather aggressive Nigerian meter-fascist. He was one of those that didn’t understand the concept of personal space. Good oral hygiene seemed to be culturally foreign to the man as well.
I didn’t rise to his aggression.
“You must respect my authority,” he exclaimed, backing away from my glare. He began to backpeddle in an almost panic.
I was about to say, “mind the road” just before he was mowed down by a council lorry.
His body was catapulted over the bonnet and landed in the back with all the rubbish.

Ted

The verdict was in.. He was banned from the park field for life, and boy was he pissed! He deserved better than this! He was, after all, an Eagle! Better than those low life seagulls who had ousted him in a unanimous vote. They were jealous!
He used to rule the park! And they lied about him! They said he would spread disease, just to make the others hate him! He wasn’t sick. His puny subjects had retaliated in the worst way!
Now, never to enter his domain again, he would always be know as.. The ILL Eagle, Park King.

Elisson

By the year 2032, advances in medical technology had made organ transplantation practically foolproof.
No longer did patients take anti-rejection drugs for a lifetime, waiting for their new organs to fail. One shot was all it took. Everything but the brain could be transplanted; lifespans of 135 years became common.
Only problem was, not enough raw material. Cloning might’ve helped, but the religious right killed that possibility. Then came the Anticrime Omnibus Bill of 2037.
All of which explains why Stewart, who had just received his third parking ticket, was headed for the organ banks.
Fucking parking meters, he thought.

Russell Burt

When the aliens landed, we followed their command to “take us to your leader.” We decided that they probably meant the mayor of our little town. The meeting went extremely well, and the aliens walked out of the mayor’s office promising that on their next visit they would bring back a fuel source that would ensure there was never an energy crisis on Earth again. Then they returned to their ship to find that they had been ticketed for parking in front of a hydrant. They hopped aboard, charged up their laser cannons, and burned the town to the ground.

Fran couldn’t believe she’d gotten a ticket for smoking a cigarette, inside her own car, while parked within 10,000 feet of a school.
Heck, just last week they passed a law saying that if you walk around your house naked in front of your own children that’s pornography and worth 30 days in jail.
Damn those ‘protect the children’ groups!
You can’t do anything anymore!
“Illegal parking, huh? How much is that?”
” I’m sorry ma’am. I’m gonna have to give you another ticket.”
“For what?”
“You should have said ‘undocumented’. It’s against the law to use the word ‘illegal’.”

The Autobots took a while to adjust to earth culture.
Bumblebee pulled by the side of the road, took a nap, and woke up with an odd metal disc attached to his tire.
“What’s this?” he asked the police officer who was sticking a slip of paper under his wiper.
“It’s a boot,” said the officer. “You parked in front of a fire hydrant.”
Bumblebee transformed, crumbled up the ticket, and pulled out his laser rifle.
Ratchet’s still trying to reattach his foot.
The Decepticons adjusted easily to earth culture: they just blew shit up and killed people.

Weekly Challenge #38 – A Kiss

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by Tom from Footnote, and it’s a kiss.
Eleven stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
A rookie this week… Simon H joins the fun!
And, once again, some disturbing madness from Planet Z.
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):

The full text of each story:
LAIEANNA

The princess passionately kissed the seaweed, only to come away with a rash. She bent for a pucker upon the rock, tripping and bashing three teeth. The thistle left it’s love with scratches on her face and a snail’s secretions caused bumps to surface around her lips. The dog was less receptive, taking a chunk from her chin. Then the skunk freaked at her affection, spraying her with a rather potent stench.
“I told you not everything turns into a charming prince,” the king scolded before handing her over to her new husband Prince Barftog of the Northern troll clan.

SIMON H

“‘A kiss?’ the Roman said. ‘Can’t you just tap him on the shoulder?’
‘No’ he replied, ‘No I can’t.’
‘But we know him. We can get him ourselves, keep you out of it! ‘
‘No, I want to do it.’ How could they understand the years of frustration? The look of those parable telling lips?
‘But this is history! You want to be famous for kissing a man?’
‘A kiss will just look better alright?’ He straightened his robe and breathed deeply. ‘How do I look?’ he said.
And with the mob close behind him, he walked into the Garden.”

CALEB

Moonlight and Love songs never out of date? Ha. Don’t make me laugh.
Ever since the Lycanthrope Plague of 2037 when we had to blow up the moon, those old love songs just serve as a painful reminder of science gone wrong.
Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate? More like nano-bots full of cholesterol dissolving enzymes and oxygen re-circulators to keep us from strangling on this thick grey polluted air.
And yet, in all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, when I’m loaded I find myself telling my subcutaneous audio matrix, “Play it, S.A.M.”

TOM

He gave him a peck on the check then whispered the following into the rabbi’s ear. “There’s a bounty on your head for your rather indecorous act in the temple”
“How much?” inquired Jesus
“30 pieces.” Said Judas
“30 pieces!” yelled Peter
“We got 60 for half the damage in Damascus.”
Soon all the apostles were bitching and moaning about the take.
Jesus raised his hand they all fell silent.
“Everyone knows their positions in Gethsemane?”
The shills nodded.
“And Judas try to make the kiss more convincing this time.
Caiaphas may be a mark, but he’s a shroud mark.”

CAROLINE

During the summer of 1964 while camping at a place called ‘Eels Foot Inn’ his family arrived, our eyes locked. Jack was my age.
Strangely, both families pushed us together throwing out the water, telling us to get more. Minding not in the least and giggling childishly off we went. At 15 and very slow courting, the days were flying by. Myself both shy and waiting anxiously. One day with tension rising while sitting on a bench overlooking the river he turned to me “may I kiss you?” The sweetest most innocent kiss of my life never to be forgotten.

ANDREW

Sealed with a kiss a phrase that’ll haunt me until my demise.
“It’s just a kiss,” I thought to myself. “What harm could that do.”
Little did I know I had a sealed a pact with She Who Must not be Named an entity as ancient as she is evil from a distance and dimension unfathomable to most men.
I kissed her for that age ole’ reason. She must’ve taught the sirens their tricks for she is the first of all evil seducers.
“‘Paradise’ indeed… Meatloaf mate`” I mused.
A kiss for the abyss was what it was. It came.

RUSSELL

I don’t date goth girls anymore, and here’s why.
We sat on the couch. She was dressed entirely in black, of course, with her face whited-out, wearing enough eyeliner to sink a battleship.
It didn’t matter, I wanted her–bad, and had been getting nowhere for weeks, now.
I decided to go old-school this time. “Give me, a kiss to build a dream on,” I sang.
It worked.
She leaned in close, put her mouth to mine, and ripped half of my lower lip off with her teeth.
I can’t fault her logic. A nightmare is a dream, after all.

RAHEL

Romeo likes my elbow for some reason. Well, not exactly the elbow–the area just above it. He likes to kiss it for minutes at a time.
I really don’t understand why, but I love Romeo, so I let him do it as much as he wants. Only at appropriate times, of course.
Sometimes the skin above my elbow is red and raw, as though it had been wiped repeatedly with damp sandpaper.
Well, in a way it has.
Yes, I keep on putting up with it. What else can I do? Oh, the things we do for our cats.

ELISSON

Mortimer knew he was dying.
He had traveled to the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa to spread the Lord’s Good News. He had started a school and, later, opened a hospital that offered rudimentary health care to the impoverished natives of his village.
Rudimentary, indeed. They could do nothing there to save him.
He had hit the trifecta, coming down with amoebic dysentery, a monster tapeworm, and, finally, a raging case of cholera that had sapped his last reserves.
To die in your sleep is God’s kiss, Mortimer thought, ruefully.
But to shit yourself to death is God’s Hershey’s kiss.

K-NINE

007 struggled against his restraints until he saw the door handle turn. Into the room slipped Vod Kanockers, a Bulgarian double agent.
“I’m here to help end this” she whispered.
Bond could feel her hot breath as she loosened the ropes holding him to the chair.
She untied him and said, “I know where the remote device is, I’ll take you there, but first…”
Their lips met passionately.
Bond pulled away, “Let’s go.”
Suddenly the room blurred. “What… Why?” he implored.
“That’s for giving my sister the clap, you bastard”
10 seconds later part of London disappeared in a flash.

BROTHER OSRIC

We’re getting out of the car and heading toward her side porch. Side porch, that’s a good sign, right? Her parents won’t be looking out that way.
Good restaurant–sure cost enough–and great movie. It’s gotta be worth more than a handshake, right? Although the feel of her hands, cool, not sweaty… wish I could say the same…
Crossing the grass… Aw, man, I didn’t know they had a dog…
Up the steps…don’t scrape the shoe, that’s not cool, pretend nothing happened…
The porch light went on! Crap. That tears it…
“Motion sensor,” she says, an– mmmmmmmph!
Heaven.

PLANET Z

Prince Charming got word of fresh meat in the forest and hopped on his horse.
He arrived in the clearing, where Snow White’s crystal coffin rested.
What a nice piece of ass, he thought. He liked brunettes.
Too bad about the ugly dress, though.
Not that she’ll be wearing it long.
Charming mumbled the enchantments and felt his lips tingle.
One kiss, and she’d be back to life. Good as new.
And ready to fuck.
Sadly, the spell was temporary. And only worked once on any particular corpse.
Too bad. This one would be worth screwing five or six times.

Weekly Challenge #37 – Football/Referee

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by K-Nine from Dead Dog Walkin’, and it’s football/referee.
Seven stories were submitted this week. Only single digits.
One rookie this week? Yay!
Planet Z is currently in retrograde and reliable communications have not been reestablished.
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 the cost of a cup of coffee through PayPal. And who’s on the five dollar bill? Heh heh heh…
So listen, vote, and tune in next week to find out who won!

The full text of each story:
TOM

The line surged.
WAPP!
“There’s a flag on that play,” intoned Dan.
On the field the ref squared his legs, rocked back and forth while pumping balled fists Parallel to the turf.
“What the hell does that mean?” crackled Dick franticly flipping through the referee’s hand signal field manual.
“Illegal uses of the groin, number 69”
echoes Billy “The Blind” Baxter head referee.
“That’s got to hurt America’s Team.”
“Yup, Carl “Steel Cojones” Clayton really stuck it to Oscar “Wienerman” Wilde.”
“That’s a 7.5 yard penalty.”
“I thought it was longer Dick?”
“No Dan shortest personal penalty in the game.

BROTHER OSRIC

“…that Rod Usher, Ulthar State cornerback, is today’s game MVP!” Cheers thundered throughout the stadium.
Phyllis hugged her sweetheart. “Go on, baby. You deserve it.”
“No,” Rod protested. “You come too. You’re my inspiration; I couldn’t have done it without you.”
She smiled. Together they mounted the platform, where Rod shook hands with the opposing team’s captain. “Good game,” mumbled the latter.
“Thank you,” said Rod, plunging the ceremonial dagger into the other’s abdomen and slashing upward. He reached in and extracted the heart, but instead of taking the first bite he offered it to Phyllis. “My inspiration,” he repeated.

LISA

Judy had it. When Fred forgot their anniversary and spent it watching football with the guys, she decided it was time to extract some “Football Widow” revenge.
A bad call in last week’s game had Fred bitching all week about that “idiot referee”. Judy decided to use this, after learning that very referee would be officiating the game they’d be attending together on Saturday.
During half-time, she made her way to the referee’s change-room, and as she was scoring her own “touchdown” with the offending ref, the reporters came in with a live-feed to the JumboTron for an interview.
Perfect.

CALEB

I went to the world cup in germany
While I was there I happened to see
A man taking pictures named Drew Carrey
My eyes they boggled till I had to pee
Didn’t he used to be funny
Three shows on TV and lots of money
Now he’s at a football match
With his camera going snap snap snap
I found him at a bar after the game
I learned he sells his pictures under an assumed name
He doesn’t want them to be bought because of his great fame
Drew Carrey has gone insane
The Ballad Of Drew Carrey

K-NINE

Bowl game day at the bar, and all the Miller Lite girls were dressed as referees. Mark walked up to the redhead.
“If I gave you my number, would you call me for holding?”
She barely glanced in his direction, “You’re out of bounds, pal”
Mark suddenly made illegal contact.
In the blink of an eye she whirled. The blinding flash of pain told him that the kick was good.
As Mark lay gasping, he saw her whisper “personal foul” to the bouncers. They dragged him towards the door where Mark was sure there would be roughing of the passer.

ANDREW

I dubbed us the Strangers XI.
The natives on the island the cruiseship birthed at for repairs from a “freak” storm, were keen to play us at the English game. The poor sods didn’t know that most of our side were either ex-division footballers or keen-amateurs. The lads didn’t even mind that the priest was ref.
Not a good ref, ignoring fouls but our lads didn’t care one jot. He couldn’t hide his contempt when we won.
He was incandescent with rage.
As we departed I could hear men’s screams of pain as we headed out to sea…and absolute terror.

LAIEANNA

Old man Jones didn’t know how to handle security when a major football game finally took place in our small town. The professionals pushed him aside so he decided to guard by the sidelines.
When a referee ran out giving signals, the 98 year old man charged down the field. Everyone cheered at the superb tackle. Seems Jones confused the referee with an escaped convict.
The spectacle was such a crowd pleaser that he was allowed one football spike. Unfortunately, it bounced back into his chest and he fell dead from a stopped heart. Still it was a great game.

Weekly Challenge #36 – Christmas Stories

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Welcome to the thirty-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 supposed to be selected by Andrew Ian Dodge from Every Damn Blog And Podcast On Earth, but I screwed him over by calling this one, and I chose Christmas Stories.
Fourteen stories were submitted this week. Double digits!
One rookie this week? Yay!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
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):

The full text of each story:
K-NINE

I was a bartender once. I hated Christmas, so I always took the closing shift on December 24th.
It was usually a quiet night. One year, this old man wandered in just after midnight. Dirty white beard, paunchy and run down. He ordered peppermint schnapps.
“Laid me off, little bastards” he mumbled as I poured.
I tried to ignore him, but he kept on and on. “Whole thing’s automated, don’t need me anymore.”
Finally I said, “Happens to everyone eventually, old man”
His belly shook violently as he shouted, “Ho, ho, hold on there sonny! I was Santa Claus, damnit!”

BLISSFUL

She sat on the floor surrounded by presents wrapped in shiny, bright paper adorned with big bows. Her eyes were huge, her smile wide, and she bounced from sheer excitement. She paid little attention to the others in the room.
“Is it my turn yet?”
Every time she opened a gift, there was such hope and light in her eyes that the box in her little hands could have held any one of her dreams or desires. I looked down at the small box in my own and smiled to myself, “Is it my turn now?”

LISA

Christians had “Merry Christmas”,
Jewish people had “Happy Hanukah”,
PC people had “Happy Holidays”,
Africans had “Happy Kwanzaa”,
There was even: A Festivus for the rest of us
It was high time the Atheists got together to coin a phrase to celebrate another year on this planet. A planet they knew was not created by an intelligent designer.
The bigwigs got together and after a few heated debates and a couple bottles of brandy, they came to a consensus. From that day on, Atheists around the world would greet others during the holiday season with their own salutation:
REASON’S GREETINGS.

CALEB

Two men enter; one man leaves.
Santa Claus and Jesus Christ will once more enter the ring and battle for the meaning of Christmas.
Claus, the crowd favorite, comes in at 5’11” weighing 285 pounds and is surprisingly spry for a big man.
Christ, the challenger, weighs a scant 112 pounds and stands a diminutive 5’3″. He looks puny but has proven before to be able to take an enormous amount of punishment and keep going.
One offers eternal rewards in the afterlife while the other offers immediate commercial gratification.
They enter the ring…
Down Goes Jesus!
Down Goes Jesus!

CAROLINE

Harold wouldn’t see anyone this Christmastime. It was his own fault, grumpy and miserable he’d turned them all away, now they didn’t bother. On his nightly walk he looked in the church’s bay window. The nativity scene was set out. He stared for a time, suddenly the whole scene became surreal, the baby Jesus seemed to beckon him. He couldn’t pull himself away. With tears running down his face, he went home feeling joyful? Then a vehicle drew up outside his house. “Grampa Grampa” came the shouts; his children and grandchildren surrounded him. Tears of joy ran down his cheeks. He embraced them warmly.

LAIEANNA

Hank spit gristle out on the dusty road. “Sonofabitch tried to kill
my wife…barreling down like a lunatic.”
“Whadya do, Hank?” Teddy asked.
“I shot at the bastard. Near took his head off. Bullet just grazed
that goofy hat, but boy was he scared. Came down from the sky like a
shooting star.”
“Where’s he at now?”
“Hog tied in the back of my truck. Buried his sled out in the woods.”
Teddy grabbed another skewer and chomped on his supper, “Damn, these
sure are tender. Better than the usual deer.”
“That’s cause it’s exotic meat from the north.”

ANDREW

“What the hell is coming out of your arse?” I asked amused.
“Its me’ Christmas tail… I thought it might amuse de’ fans who are
sick of all the crap music at this time of year.”
“How’ll they see it…it’s a pretty big arena,” I queried my backing-singer.
“Oh I’ve made sure the camera-man knows about it!” She flirtingly cooed.
“I thought you’d taken up with some sort of S&M club after I saw that
tail,” She… didn’t get it.
I made a note to ask the tour manager to make sure cameras were on her
arse…only very briefly.

MARK

Xmas address by the world prime minister, 2046
Citizens, rediscover the true meaning of xmas this holiday. The winter solstice was once usurped as the birthday of a messiah. While enlightenment has not abolished gods, it has properly relegated them to the mythological realm with pseudoscience and astrology. Modern peoples enjoy xmas as a celebration of freedom from the tyranny of religion.
So, while you are shopping the internet world marketplaces, and partying with your avatars and friends, stop a moment to remember that your freedom from false beliefs is the result of thousands of years of evolution of your society, your species, and yourselves. Happy xmas, everyone!

ELISSON

Ho! Ho! Ho!
The visitor took the brightly wrapped gifts from his smoking sack, arranging them at the base of the tree.
He looked around. The children, no doubt, were cowering beneath their bedsheets.
On the mantel, cookies sat next to a glass of milk. He ate them, dumping the milk in the sink. A quick search through the liquor cabinet revealed a bottle of single malt; he drained half at one gulp.
He vanished up the chimney, trailing a faint pong of brimstone.
It was a one-time gig thanks to an unfilled straight, but they’d remember Satan Claus’s visit.

TOM

The image of the man did not match either mother or father’s description. If this was the man mother called the devil then his smile should have made him shiver. If this was the man father called one in need of redeemtion his smile should have been sadder.
The grace of his face was like an angle glowing in the Christmas morning snow. He pulled a chair next to the lad and warmed his hands by the fire.
“Have you come to take me away?” ask Tim.
“No I’ve come to help.” Said Ebenezer.
Tim closed his eyes and died.

SHARON

It was a family tradition that went back hundreds of years. On Christmas Eve the family gathered in the living room waiting for Grandma and her special eggnog. It was a guarded recipe that took weeks to make.
Grandma came in with a tray full of filled shot glasses. It was potent and no one dared asked for more. Each person took a glass and waited. Grandpa gave his speech and all downed the thick liquid quickly.
They went to bed wondering if they would be the lucky one. Wondering who would be wearing The Christmas Tail in the morning.

KOLEK

Inside the warm house, a man sat opposite a glowering fire, contemplating. Saint Nicholas always got credited for delivering gifts to everybody, which was not true.
“Santa” only delivered
gifts to the northern hemisphere. Nick would be overwhelmed if he had to do the whole world!
Yet, no thanks, no letters, nothing! Why didn’t he get any credit!?!
The blue robed man shrugged it off and rose from his armchair, ready to repeat the familiar Christmas traditions that no one appreciated.
Two days later, the “Southern Santa” was in jail… again.
“Why don’t you just take your medication?” his doctor asked.

JIM S THE FOLDERMAN

For years, the feud continued. Both of them believed that there was no way in HELL that the other could have any semblance of truth on their side.
After a long discussion with a third party, he became aware that none of it was nearly as important as he previously believed. After much soul-searching and self-examination, he came to a conclusion.
On Christmas day, he trudged through the snowdrifts and knocked on her door. A VERY long journey would end today. Christ was present in his heart when she opened the door and pulled the trigger, ending their long-overdue reconciliation.

IMAO
(FrankJ and SarahK as Eric and Susan
Right Wing Duck as Jimmy
Harvey as the Narrator
and a special guest appearance by Spacemonkey as Santa Claus)

Jimmy put the cookies and milk out on the mantelpiece.
“Isn’t that cute?” said Susan. “Our boy is so wonderful.”
“It’s insane,” said Eric. “There’s no such thing as Santa Claus.”
Later that night, Jimmy heard a jingle and a thud.
He jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, giggling.
Santa was in front of the fireplace, his hands on his throat, dead.
Jimmy screamed in horror.
When Susan and Eric came downstairs, they saw the dead Santa and tried to comfort Jimmy.
“I’m so sorry,” they told him.
“I am too,” said Jimmy. ” I was trying to poison Daddy.”

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up

Weekly Challenge #35 – Monkey Business

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Welcome to the thirty-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 Lee from Read Strange and he chose Monkey Business.
Nine stories were submitted this week. Singe digits? Boo!
No rookies this week? Boo! Boo! Double Boo!
And, as always, the usual madness by Planet Z.
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):

The full text of each story:
T.A. MARQUETTE

Ben stood at the door and surveyed
the false paradises of his living room.
“No Monkey Business! Understand?”
he said to 3 sets of angelic kitty eyes.
Click when the door.
“What the hell is he talking about?”
“We don’t got no stink’n monkeys” moued Squeaks.
“Let’s get to work,” mewed Sukie
“Positions.” purred PityPat.
It was a Mexican standoff kitty style
ready to release feline fluids.
Gaaaact Piiissss Plooop
Squeaks throw up on Ben’s first edition of LOTR.
Sukie peed down Ben’s 27 in monitor.
PityPat pooped in Ben’s Air Jordans.
“Let’s go watch some Marx Brothers.”
“Why?”
“Research.”

LAIEANNA

“Welcome to Flying Monkey Express. What we don’t destroy, we ship.
What can I do for you?”
“I need to send this to my sister.”
“Region?”
“South.”
“Any perishables?”
“It’s a Fruitcake.”
“Oh, that should easily make the trip.”
“I’ll write down her address.”
“I need to send this a long distance.”
“Seems light enough to carry.”
“It’s a pair of shoes.”
“Destination?”
“Kansas.”
“Just fill out this form.”
“Welcome sir. Here for a package?”
“Yes, some straw. I’m running low in my legs.”
“Was that insured?”
“No.”
“I’m afraid we lost that in Poppy Field.”
“So now what?”
“Well…”

LISA

“You need to feed the ones down in cell seven,” Mr. B yelled to Phil, “and make sure you clean Mr. Tibbs up, someone’s rented him for a birthday party.”
Great, Phil thought. I get to clean up Mr. Tibbs, the one who always liked to throw his feces around the room. Phil never dreamed he’d end up working for an agency like this, but he really needed the paycheck.
Things were hard in Hollywood but Phil knew someday he would make it big himself – he wouldn’t always be looking after the occupants at Mr. Bubbles’ Human Rental Agency.

ANDREW

“Monkey business”? I paused before continuing, “you think the band
lark is monkey business!”
“You’re a bunch of 30-somethings in a mid-life crisis playing in a
band when you should be settling down and growing up,” she retorted
sneering.
“You mean giving up don’t you?” I blustered back. “Who says you can’t
be a grown up and have a band.”
Then I said something back at her as I walked on stage… “You know it
ain’t just about sex, drugs and rock & roll…there’s artistic merit in
doing your own music!”
“What the…” My brain screamed.
I’d become a musician.

ELISSON

Charley strode into the cavernous drafting room to announce the good news: Simionics had won the contract to design the DFW Airport!
Simionics, Incorporated was on a roll. The new job followed right on the heels of their last project – the Hartford, Connecticut interstate highway network.
Somebody once said that if you put an infinite number of monkeys at an infinite number of typewriters, eventually you’d end up with the complete works of Shakespeare. Simionics wasn’t quite that ambitious. They had 500 chimps, 500 drafting tables: just enough.
A hard-flung turd caught Charley on the chin. Fucking monkey business.

ALPHA K9

Brother Jerome smiled as he walked through the abbey.
It was the third Tuesday of the month. Vespers was
over, reverently he genuflected before the cross and
headed over to the dining hall. Once there he
dispensed with his robe and donned a Hawaiian shirt.
Grabbing a beer in a mug made from half a coconut, he
helped himself to a chunk of pineapple on a stick, and
made his way over to listen to Brother Silas play the
ukulele. Third Tuesday was luau night, the one day a
month when the brothers could dispense with all that
monky business.

CAROLINE

“Hello. Fran is that you?”
” Yea I dot a really bad told.”
” Sounds bad how did you get that?”
“Well young Brayden had one last week.”
“You won’t be party poopering by the sound of it.”
“Doh I won’t.”
” I was hoping you’d come to New Years but I guess you’re not fit.”
We love your hors-d-oeuvres.
” Sorry Sheila. Wouldn’t want to spread it.”
” Cold indeed!” Said Frank arriving home.
” I want to cosy up with just the two of us.” She lied. She was tired of Franks and Sheila’s monkey business.

CALEB

And now, the business report. An infinite number of monkeys successfully sued noted playwright William Shakespeare for one million pounds sterling claiming that he stole their script for Hamlet which been running successfully now for almost 500 years. Fortunately for Mr. Shakespeare because of the difficulty inherent in dividing one million pounds into an infinite number of equal payments, he will not have to make any payment until an infinite number of accountants and mathematicians work out this conundrum and take their 10 per cent. When asked for comment, Mr. Shakespeare said nothing as he has been dead for centuries.

HOUSTON KEYS

Old Hand- Hello there!
New Guy- Hi, I’m new here.
Old Hand- Obviously, since you aren’t covered in poo.
New Guy- What’s going on?
Old Hand- The boss figured out he could pay Pakistanis to do American’s jobs. Then he figured out he could pay Mexicans to do the Pakistani’s jobs. He kept going until it the work quality got so bad he found out he could get Monkeys to turn out the same crummy stuff, and, well, around here they aren’t kidding when they say the food by product hits the air circulation device.
New Guy- I don’t follow you.
Old Hand- You know, the hits the fan. I’ll show you around.

Twenty years ago, Senator Gary Hart saw his presidential hopes run aground by a trip on a boat called Monkey Business.
Tonight, out on Lake Michigan, Barack Obahma orders the first mate of the “Jolly Roger” to scan the water for photographers with his skyglass.
“None of them scurvy dogs to be seen, Senator!” cries the grizzled pirate.
“When I’m on the boat, you’re supposed to call me captain,” says Obahma. “Call me Senator again, and I’ll have you keel-hauled.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” said the pirate. “Salmon trawler to Starboard. Shall we board her?”
“Aye,” said Obahma. “And take no prisoners. We dine well tonight!”

Who had the best story in Weekly Challenge #43?
	Caleb from Black Tie Martini Club
	Elisson of blog d’Elisson
	Tom from Footnote
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	The Twisted Bard of Planet Z

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Who rocked the house in Weekly Challenge #42?
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	b
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Who had the best story in the 38th Weekly Challenge?
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	Russell from Come Let Me Whisper
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Who had the best story in the 37th Weekly Challenge?
	Tom from Footnote
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Who had the best story in the 36th Weekly Challenge?
	K Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
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	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipops
	Caleb from the Black Tie Martini Club
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	Laieanna from Hodgepodge Point
	Andrew of Dodgeblogium
	Mark H.
	Elisson from blog d’Elisson
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Who had the best story in the 35th Weekly Challenge?
	Andrew Ian Dodge of Dodgeblogium
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	Lisa from Lemons and Lollipiops
	Elisson of Blog d’Elisson
	Alpha K-Nine from Dead Dog Walkin
	Caroline from Quadra Island
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