http://odeo.com/channels/4964-100-Word-Stories LaurenceSimon yes Disturbing tales you can threaten to read to your kids at night if they misbehave. Disturbing tales you can threaten to read to your kids at night if they misbehave. Disturbing tales you can threaten to read to your kids at night if they misbehave. en 40 Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:30:29 -0800 Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:30:29 -0800 Comedy http://odeo.com/episodes/25448975-Talons A bird came up the walk this morning. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then it flew away. So, I flew after it. Flapping my arms madly, I rose into the air and gave chase. The bird flew to the top of a house down the street and landed. So I did too. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then I flew away. The bird did not follow me. I landed by a puddle and I looked in the water at my reflection. I'm a bird. Well, that explains why I'm not wearing pants. A bird came up the walk this morning. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then it flew away. So, I flew after it. Flapping my arms madly, I rose into the air and gave chase. The bird flew to the top of a house down the street and landed. So I did too. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then I flew away. The bird did not follow me. I landed by a puddle and I looked in the water at my reflection. I'm a bird. Well, that explains why I'm not wearing pants. A bird came up the walk this morning. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then it flew away. So, I flew after it. Flapping my arms madly, I rose into the air and gave chase. The bird flew to the top of a house down the street and landed. So I did too. I looked at it. It looked at me. And then I flew away. The bird did not follow me. I landed by a puddle and I looked in the water at my reflection. I'm a bird. Well, that explains why I'm not wearing pants. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-13,25448975 Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:30:29 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25448976-Fourth-Pig You've heard about the Three Little Pigs. They made their houses out of straw, wood, and brick. There was another pig. A cousin, who was in The Big House, made of stone and iron bars. When he heard what happened to his cousins, he broke out. “What the fuck is going on here?” he asked the cowering pigs. “Did you spend all of my money on this stupid house?” The three pigs nodded. The fourth pig made his house out of bacon, ham, and pork chops. Nobody, not even the Big Bad Wolf wanted to fuck with him. You've heard about the Three Little Pigs. They made their houses out of straw, wood, and brick. There was another pig. A cousin, who was in The Big House, made of stone and iron bars. When he heard what happened to his cousins, he broke out. “What the fuck is going on here?” he asked the cowering pigs. “Did you spend all of my money on this stupid house?” The three pigs nodded. The fourth pig made his house out of bacon, ham, and pork chops. Nobody, not even the Big Bad Wolf wanted to fuck with him. You've heard about the Three Little Pigs. They made their houses out of straw, wood, and brick. There was another pig. A cousin, who was in The Big House, made of stone and iron bars. When he heard what happened to his cousins, he broke out. “What the fuck is going on here?” he asked the cowering pigs. “Did you spend all of my money on this stupid house?” The three pigs nodded. The fourth pig made his house out of bacon, ham, and pork chops. Nobody, not even the Big Bad Wolf wanted to fuck with him. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-12,25448976 Thu, 12 Nov 2009 15:43:42 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25436683-Rights The Legislature voted down the gay marriage bill for the third time in a year, and the governor said he'd just as soon sign a bill that allowed gays to fly. So, as an April Fool's joke, the legislature passed that bill. Unanimously. The governor called a press conference and, in front of a dozen reporters, signed it. And as he looked out over the assembled group, he noticed a few people rising from their chairs into the air. Alarmed, he held on to the podium, knuckles white against the wood. But his feet would not stay on the ground. I'll be telling some of my 100 word stories at West Of Ireland in Second Life tonight at 7PM SLT. If you've listened to the Weekly Challenges, you're well familiar with my neurotic rambling babble in between stories, but this time you get to heckle me, mock my writings, and poke me with a stick in real time! Oh. Joy. The event will take place in Voice. At some point, I'll work on soundloop generators for mood and effect, maybe a stream for mood music to... The Legislature voted down the gay marriage bill for the third time in a year, and the governor said he'd just as soon sign a bill that allowed gays to fly. So, as an April Fool's joke, the legislature passed that bill. Unanimously. The governor called a press conference and, in front of a dozen reporters, signed it. And as he looked out over the assembled group, he noticed a few people rising from their chairs into the air. Alarmed, he held on to the podium, knuckles white against the wood. But his feet would not stay on the ground. I'll be telling some of my 100 word stories at West Of Ireland in Second Life tonight at 7PM SLT. If you've listened to the Weekly Challenges, you're well familiar with my neurotic rambling babble in between stories, but this time you get to heckle me, mock my writings, and poke me with a stick in real time! Oh. Joy. The event will take place in Voice. At some point, I'll work on soundloop generators for mood and effect, maybe a stream for mood music to accompany the voice. But for now, I just want to get comfortable with storytelling on the grid again, and see if the good folks at WOI don't throw banlines up and scream "SPAWN OF SATAN, GO FORTH AND SIN NO MORE!" (Sheesh. I get that enough at the lunch counter at Treebeards.) All proceeds will go to Project Children, which I wish was possible for so many more children of conflict. The Legislature voted down the gay marriage bill for the third time in a year, and the governor said he'd just as soon sign a bill that allowed gays to fly. So, as an April Fool's joke, the legislature passed that bill. Unanimously. The governor called a press conference and, in front of a dozen reporters, signed it. And as he looked out over the assembled group, he noticed a few people rising from their chairs into the air. Alarmed, he held on to the podium, knuckles white against the wood. But his feet would not stay on the ground. I'll be telling some of my 100 word stories at West Of Ireland in Second Life tonight at 7PM SLT. If you've listened to the Weekly Challenges, you're well familiar with my neurotic rambling babble in between stories, but this time you get to heckle me, mock my writings, and poke me with a stick in real time! Oh. Joy. The event will take place in Voice. At some point, I'll work on soundloop generators for mood and effect, maybe a stream for mood music to accompany the voice. But for now, I just want to get comfortable with storytelling on the grid again, and see if the good folks at WOI don't throw banlines up and scream "SPAWN OF SATAN, GO FORTH AND SIN NO MORE!" (Sheesh. I get that enough at the lunch counter at Treebeards.) All proceeds will go to Project Children, which I wish was possible for so many more children of conflict. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-11,25436683 Wed, 11 Nov 2009 09:11:11 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25431251-Bottlecaps Joe has a trash can full of bottlecaps behind the bar. He calls it his collection. No corkboards or anything. Just a can full of bottlecaps. "I just collect them," he says, pulling another beer from the tap. "From where?" I ask. "You just keep beer on tap, no bottles or cans. And you've never gone anywhere but up and down those stairs to your apartment." Joe looked at the trash can and scratched his head. "Beats me," he said. "I guess this makes it valuable or something." He handed me the beer and tossed another cap into his collection. Joe has a trash can full of bottlecaps behind the bar. He calls it his collection. No corkboards or anything. Just a can full of bottlecaps. "I just collect them," he says, pulling another beer from the tap. "From where?" I ask. "You just keep beer on tap, no bottles or cans. And you've never gone anywhere but up and down those stairs to your apartment." Joe looked at the trash can and scratched his head. "Beats me," he said. "I guess this makes it valuable or something." He handed me the beer and tossed another cap into his collection. Joe has a trash can full of bottlecaps behind the bar. He calls it his collection. No corkboards or anything. Just a can full of bottlecaps. "I just collect them," he says, pulling another beer from the tap. "From where?" I ask. "You just keep beer on tap, no bottles or cans. And you've never gone anywhere but up and down those stairs to your apartment." Joe looked at the trash can and scratched his head. "Beats me," he said. "I guess this makes it valuable or something." He handed me the beer and tossed another cap into his collection. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-10,25431251 Tue, 10 Nov 2009 09:53:57 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25428775-The-Stairs Lily warned me not to go down to the basement. But I needed something from down there. We live on four, so I went down the five flights of stairs and... Locked. Forgot the key. So, I went back up six flights of stairs and... Six? If I went up six, I should be on... Wait. Hold on. I went back down again, down five flights of stairs, and stood at the basement door. Then I carefully counted each flight of stairs up. Six. "Somethings wrong," I said. "I told you not to go down to the basement," muttered Lily. Lily warned me not to go down to the basement. But I needed something from down there. We live on four, so I went down the five flights of stairs and... Locked. Forgot the key. So, I went back up six flights of stairs and... Six? If I went up six, I should be on... Wait. Hold on. I went back down again, down five flights of stairs, and stood at the basement door. Then I carefully counted each flight of stairs up. Six. "Somethings wrong," I said. "I told you not to go down to the basement," muttered Lily. Lily warned me not to go down to the basement. But I needed something from down there. We live on four, so I went down the five flights of stairs and... Locked. Forgot the key. So, I went back up six flights of stairs and... Six? If I went up six, I should be on... Wait. Hold on. I went back down again, down five flights of stairs, and stood at the basement door. Then I carefully counted each flight of stairs up. Six. "Somethings wrong," I said. "I told you not to go down to the basement," muttered Lily. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-09,25428775 Mon, 09 Nov 2009 07:07:44 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25422294-The-Talking-Sword The swordsman tested all the swords in the store, but when he picked up the talking sword, he was greatly impressed. “I have no equal, no opponent can defeat me,” it said. The fighter took a few lunges and swings. Good balance, nice edge. He bought it. Three days later, the swordsman was crawling out of a cave, bloodied and battered, sword in hand. “They were kobolds, Sword,” he groaned. “I could beat them barehanded.” “My expertise is in debate, not combat,” said the sword. It swore as it clattered against the rocks in the cave. The swordsman tested all the swords in the store, but when he picked up the talking sword, he was greatly impressed. “I have no equal, no opponent can defeat me,” it said. The fighter took a few lunges and swings. Good balance, nice edge. He bought it. Three days later, the swordsman was crawling out of a cave, bloodied and battered, sword in hand. “They were kobolds, Sword,” he groaned. “I could beat them barehanded.” “My expertise is in debate, not combat,” said the sword. It swore as it clattered against the rocks in the cave. The swordsman tested all the swords in the store, but when he picked up the talking sword, he was greatly impressed. “I have no equal, no opponent can defeat me,” it said. The fighter took a few lunges and swings. Good balance, nice edge. He bought it. Three days later, the swordsman was crawling out of a cave, bloodied and battered, sword in hand. “They were kobolds, Sword,” he groaned. “I could beat them barehanded.” “My expertise is in debate, not combat,” said the sword. It swore as it clattered against the rocks in the cave. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-08,25422294 Sun, 08 Nov 2009 15:07:36 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25417369-Weekly-Challenge-186-Stuffing The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Stuffing, courtesy of Steven the Nuclear Man. This week, we're going to experiment with a Saturday Night deadline and a Sunday production. I'd like to see how well that works for y'all and then after a few weeks, we'll revisit the issue and decide which day works best based on experience. You have until midnight on Saturday November 14 to get me the following: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #187 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, oka... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Stuffing, courtesy of Steven the Nuclear Man. This week, we're going to experiment with a Saturday Night deadline and a Sunday production. I'd like to see how well that works for y'all and then after a few weeks, we'll revisit the issue and decide which day works best based on experience. You have until midnight on Saturday November 14 to get me the following: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #187 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 186 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Stuffing, courtesy of Steven the Nuclear Man. This week, we're going to experiment with a Saturday Night deadline and a Sunday production. I'd like to see how well that works for y'all and then after a few weeks, we'll revisit the issue and decide which day works best based on experience. You have until midnight on Saturday November 14 to get me the following: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #187 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 186 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-07,25417369 Sat, 07 Nov 2009 17:57:56 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25417370-Weekly-Challenge-185-Mystery-Ingredient Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which stories were the best this week? Steven Zachmann Norval Joe Justin TJ Lance Laeianna JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven One. Take one candlestick. Combine with the brain of your ex-lover at high speed. In the library. Two. Wipe fingerprints from fixtures and door handles for thirty seconds. Three. Use two cups of the victim's blood to write radical slogans for a religion you do not follow on the walls. Four. Place body in bathtub filled with sulfuric acid. Allow to steep until soft.. Five. Knead C4 around support pillars of home. Place detonators. Six. Exit, then detonate. Allow all ... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which stories were the best this week? Steven Zachmann Norval Joe Justin TJ Lance Laeianna JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven One. Take one candlestick. Combine with the brain of your ex-lover at high speed. In the library. Two. Wipe fingerprints from fixtures and door handles for thirty seconds. Three. Use two cups of the victim's blood to write radical slogans for a religion you do not follow on the walls. Four. Place body in bathtub filled with sulfuric acid. Allow to steep until soft.. Five. Knead C4 around support pillars of home. Place detonators. Six. Exit, then detonate. Allow all ingredients to cook until fire and police departments arrive. Seven. Watch TV anchors speculate about your identity. Serves one. Zachmann Kory smiles and offers Justin a piece of cake fresh from the oven made with a recipe he got from DAVe. Jusin says "This looks like a standard spice cake. Is it?" "Yes, with a special mystery ingredient. It is surprisingly good" replies Kory. "My son brought some to school and his friends love it." Kory pours Justin a glass of milk. They each eat a piece of cake. Justin's face turns read. Then Justin grabs the one gallon milk jug and drinks all the milk. Justin asks "Just what is the mystery ingredient?" "Didn't I tell you? Habanerro Peppers" Norval Joe A bunch of us kids got crazy my junior year in high school. We dicided we all wanted super powers. Someone came up with the idea of hanging out in the cooling tower of the old nuclear plant. The police showed up before I could climb in. My dad worked for KFC. When he found out what we tried to do, he said I could use the mustery ingredient from the secret eleven herbs and spices. He said it would make me fly. It's disappointing. All my friends died from radiation poisoning. I wake up everyday at sunrise and crow. Justin Although airship travel is slow and relaxed, but no one wants a long wait to eat. I have to make quality food at a reasonable pace. I can't cook fresh to order at the slow speed it takes to get that special, perfect taste. I have a secret, though. I can cook food quickly, but still get compliments on the exquisite flavor of the food. How do I do it? Well, let me tell you. I add a special ingredient; I spritz on sloth sweat. It's rare and expensive, but it's the best way to get that slow cooked flavor! TJ Part of a compilation, you say, slipping into our midst in an incognito fashion? Such as might slink along sub rosa without anybody noticing? That is our task, to suss out this addition? How curiously quaint, and quaintly curious. Or, failing that, a thing can, in unusual situations, simply find it’s out of bounds, strict and uncompromising though such might loom. Can your imagination fathom my fabrication? What’s missing thus far in this randomly circuitous jazz – apart from a common nonconsonant which, for kicks, I’m not using in this discussion. What a luxury, had I not run out of it! Lance Twenty years. That’s how long it took to decipher the spider-web handwriting and understand the formula. I spent ten more scouring the globe for the strange and exotic bits of plant and animal matter. When I came home, nearly three years passed as I stared at that damnable smeared blob of ink before deciding what the last item on the list must be. Thirty-three years of my life in pursuit of one goal. It seems like so long, but if I’m right, if I’ve finally figured out the mystery ingredient, I’ll live forever. If I’m wrong, then I’ll destroy the- Laeianna Lester jabbed his fork into the mystery meatloaf all schools served. Poke! Poke! After last Thursday’s helping, Lester asked the counselor about it. She claimed it had the usual ingredients with a little mystery flavor added then urged him to concentrate on schoolwork instead. Poke! Poke! Lester refused, keeping an eye on the kitchen door’s little window into the lunch lady’s world. Poke! Poke! He worried over the roaches coming from under the door and hearing the sounds of cat screams emanating from inside. Poke! Poke! And then there was the odd fact that kitchen assistants kept disappearing. Poke! Poke! JRadimus You mightn’t not believe me now, but we once had the biggest pile o’ money you even done seen. We was the richest family fer six hollers. But now I’ve spent almost all of it tryin’ to figger out my Grand-Pappy’s secret. Y’see, Grand-Pappy brewed him up some special moonshine during the Dry Spell. Folks cottoned to it real powerful-like. Purty soon, he was sellin’ it as quick as he made it. Pa started helpin’ him after he got blinded off’n a bad batch from over the next county. Then he up n’ died without tellin’ us his mystery ingredient. Planet Z Batman dragged the battered chef into Arkham and threw him into a cell. “What's the name on this one?” the orderly asked. “He calls himself 'Mister E. Ingredient'” growled Batman. “The Master Chef Of Crime.” He responded well to therapy and medication, and rehabilitation went smoothly. Gotham Four Seasons and The Wyndham expressed an interest in his skills, but the doctors didn't think he was ready. “At least let me cook something, to express my gratitude,” said Ingredient. As the staff and guards vomited blood, the chef straightened his toque, laughed, and walked out the door. Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which stories were the best this week? Steven Zachmann Norval Joe Justin TJ Lance Laeianna JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven One. Take one candlestick. Combine with the brain of your ex-lover at high speed. In the library. Two. Wipe fingerprints from fixtures and door handles for thirty seconds. Three. Use two cups of the victim's blood to write radical slogans for a religion you do not follow on the walls. Four. Place body in bathtub filled with sulfuric acid. Allow to steep until soft.. Five. Knead C4 around support pillars of home. Place detonators. Six. Exit, then detonate. Allow all ingredients to cook until fire and police departments arrive. Seven. Watch TV anchors speculate about your identity. Serves one. Zachmann Kory smiles and offers Justin a piece of cake fresh from the oven made with a recipe he got from DAVe. Jusin says "This looks like a standard spice cake. Is it?" "Yes, with a special mystery ingredient. It is surprisingly good" replies Kory. "My son brought some to school and his friends love it." Kory pours Justin a glass of milk. They each eat a piece of cake. Justin's face turns read. Then Justin grabs the one gallon milk jug and drinks all the milk. Justin asks "Just what is the mystery ingredient?" "Didn't I tell you? Habanerro Peppers" Norval Joe A bunch of us kids got crazy my junior year in high school. We dicided we all wanted super powers. Someone came up with the idea of hanging out in the cooling tower of the old nuclear plant. The police showed up before I could climb in. My dad worked for KFC. When he found out what we tried to do, he said I could use the mustery ingredient from the secret eleven herbs and spices. He said it would make me fly. It's disappointing. All my friends died from radiation poisoning. I wake up everyday at sunrise and crow. Justin Although airship travel is slow and relaxed, but no one wants a long wait to eat. I have to make quality food at a reasonable pace. I can't cook fresh to order at the slow speed it takes to get that special, perfect taste. I have a secret, though. I can cook food quickly, but still get compliments on the exquisite flavor of the food. How do I do it? Well, let me tell you. I add a special ingredient; I spritz on sloth sweat. It's rare and expensive, but it's the best way to get that slow cooked flavor! TJ Part of a compilation, you say, slipping into our midst in an incognito fashion? Such as might slink along sub rosa without anybody noticing? That is our task, to suss out this addition? How curiously quaint, and quaintly curious. Or, failing that, a thing can, in unusual situations, simply find it’s out of bounds, strict and uncompromising though such might loom. Can your imagination fathom my fabrication? What’s missing thus far in this randomly circuitous jazz – apart from a common nonconsonant which, for kicks, I’m not using in this discussion. What a luxury, had I not run out of it! Lance Twenty years. That’s how long it took to decipher the spider-web handwriting and understand the formula. I spent ten more scouring the globe for the strange and exotic bits of plant and animal matter. When I came home, nearly three years passed as I stared at that damnable smeared blob of ink before deciding what the last item on the list must be. Thirty-three years of my life in pursuit of one goal. It seems like so long, but if I’m right, if I’ve finally figured out the mystery ingredient, I’ll live forever. If I’m wrong, then I’ll destroy the- Laeianna Lester jabbed his fork into the mystery meatloaf all schools served. Poke! Poke! After last Thursday’s helping, Lester asked the counselor about it. She claimed it had the usual ingredients with a little mystery flavor added then urged him to concentrate on schoolwork instead. Poke! Poke! Lester refused, keeping an eye on the kitchen door’s little window into the lunch lady’s world. Poke! Poke! He worried over the roaches coming from under the door and hearing the sounds of cat screams emanating from inside. Poke! Poke! And then there was the odd fact that kitchen assistants kept disappearing. Poke! Poke! JRadimus You mightn’t not believe me now, but we once had the biggest pile o’ money you even done seen. We was the richest family fer six hollers. But now I’ve spent almost all of it tryin’ to figger out my Grand-Pappy’s secret. Y’see, Grand-Pappy brewed him up some special moonshine during the Dry Spell. Folks cottoned to it real powerful-like. Purty soon, he was sellin’ it as quick as he made it. Pa started helpin’ him after he got blinded off’n a bad batch from over the next county. Then he up n’ died without tellin’ us his mystery ingredient. Planet Z Batman dragged the battered chef into Arkham and threw him into a cell. “What's the name on this one?” the orderly asked. “He calls himself 'Mister E. Ingredient'” growled Batman. “The Master Chef Of Crime.” He responded well to therapy and medication, and rehabilitation went smoothly. Gotham Four Seasons and The Wyndham expressed an interest in his skills, but the doctors didn't think he was ready. “At least let me cook something, to express my gratitude,” said Ingredient. As the staff and guards vomited blood, the chef straightened his toque, laughed, and walked out the door. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-07,25417370 Sat, 07 Nov 2009 08:03:10 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25415252-The-Dragon-Next-Door My oven is filthy. It is covered with grime. But I do not have anything to clean it. So, I call the dragon who lives next door. She sticks her head in the window and looks at the oven. "Disgusting!" she growls. She takes a deep breath and blows fire all over my kitchen, burning the countertops and toaster and my favorite oven mitts. "I am so sorry," she says. "I should have been more careful." I hop on her back and we fly to a restaurant, order burgers and shakes, and go hunting for elephants for her to eat. My oven is filthy. It is covered with grime. But I do not have anything to clean it. So, I call the dragon who lives next door. She sticks her head in the window and looks at the oven. "Disgusting!" she growls. She takes a deep breath and blows fire all over my kitchen, burning the countertops and toaster and my favorite oven mitts. "I am so sorry," she says. "I should have been more careful." I hop on her back and we fly to a restaurant, order burgers and shakes, and go hunting for elephants for her to eat. My oven is filthy. It is covered with grime. But I do not have anything to clean it. So, I call the dragon who lives next door. She sticks her head in the window and looks at the oven. "Disgusting!" she growls. She takes a deep breath and blows fire all over my kitchen, burning the countertops and toaster and my favorite oven mitts. "I am so sorry," she says. "I should have been more careful." I hop on her back and we fly to a restaurant, order burgers and shakes, and go hunting for elephants for her to eat. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-06,25415252 Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:02:57 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25409596-Dazzleberries-and-Ookweed Grondor's admonished his tribe of cave-dwellers “Lay off the dazzleberries and ookweed sap.” He was getting sick and tired of tripping over stoned tribesmen or getting jabbed in the ass with a spear when they'd flip out and hallucinate that he was an elk. And so, he collected up all the plants he could find, dragged the Firemaker out of his cave, and they set the narcotic bundle aflame. With a deep sigh of relief, Grondor walked back to the caves. And saw elk. Dozens of them. He pulled out his spear and attacked. His frightened tribe scattered, bleeding and screaming. Grondor's admonished his tribe of cave-dwellers “Lay off the dazzleberries and ookweed sap.” He was getting sick and tired of tripping over stoned tribesmen or getting jabbed in the ass with a spear when they'd flip out and hallucinate that he was an elk. And so, he collected up all the plants he could find, dragged the Firemaker out of his cave, and they set the narcotic bundle aflame. With a deep sigh of relief, Grondor walked back to the caves. And saw elk. Dozens of them. He pulled out his spear and attacked. His frightened tribe scattered, bleeding and screaming. Grondor's admonished his tribe of cave-dwellers “Lay off the dazzleberries and ookweed sap.” He was getting sick and tired of tripping over stoned tribesmen or getting jabbed in the ass with a spear when they'd flip out and hallucinate that he was an elk. And so, he collected up all the plants he could find, dragged the Firemaker out of his cave, and they set the narcotic bundle aflame. With a deep sigh of relief, Grondor walked back to the caves. And saw elk. Dozens of them. He pulled out his spear and attacked. His frightened tribe scattered, bleeding and screaming. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-05,25409596 Thu, 05 Nov 2009 17:38:00 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393014-2000 My grandfather owned a wholesale grocery warehouse. In his office, there was an antique register and an adding machine you had to pull the crank to get the numbers out of. I calculated how old I'd be in the year 2000. Then I did it for my brother. And my dad. And my mother. When I wanted to do it for my grandfather, he chuckled and said he didn't think he'd be around for that. “But, Grampa.” He was right. Ten years short, seven kinds of cancer ganged up on him. Nobody knows where that adding machine ended up. This is the first independently-produced podcast to reach 2,000 episodes. Thank you to everyone who is, has, and will be a part of it. My grandfather owned a wholesale grocery warehouse. In his office, there was an antique register and an adding machine you had to pull the crank to get the numbers out of. I calculated how old I'd be in the year 2000. Then I did it for my brother. And my dad. And my mother. When I wanted to do it for my grandfather, he chuckled and said he didn't think he'd be around for that. “But, Grampa.” He was right. Ten years short, seven kinds of cancer ganged up on him. Nobody knows where that adding machine ended up. This is the first independently-produced podcast to reach 2,000 episodes. Thank you to everyone who is, has, and will be a part of it. My grandfather owned a wholesale grocery warehouse. In his office, there was an antique register and an adding machine you had to pull the crank to get the numbers out of. I calculated how old I'd be in the year 2000. Then I did it for my brother. And my dad. And my mother. When I wanted to do it for my grandfather, he chuckled and said he didn't think he'd be around for that. “But, Grampa.” He was right. Ten years short, seven kinds of cancer ganged up on him. Nobody knows where that adding machine ended up. This is the first independently-produced podcast to reach 2,000 episodes. Thank you to everyone who is, has, and will be a part of it. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-04,25393014 Wed, 04 Nov 2009 06:12:10 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393015-Addict I can feel the needle in my arm. It's been there for a long time. I refuse to look at it. I should take it out, I tell myself. I can't remember putting it in. Did I put it in? Did someone else? I can't remember. What if I take it out for a minute, to prove I can. Will I be able to put it back in? I'd better leave it there. It's there for a reason. I can't remember why, but it should stay there. So I look, and... it's not there anymore. I scream GIVE IT BACK! In case you've lost count, this is episode 1,999. I can feel the needle in my arm. It's been there for a long time. I refuse to look at it. I should take it out, I tell myself. I can't remember putting it in. Did I put it in? Did someone else? I can't remember. What if I take it out for a minute, to prove I can. Will I be able to put it back in? I'd better leave it there. It's there for a reason. I can't remember why, but it should stay there. So I look, and... it's not there anymore. I scream GIVE IT BACK! In case you've lost count, this is episode 1,999. I can feel the needle in my arm. It's been there for a long time. I refuse to look at it. I should take it out, I tell myself. I can't remember putting it in. Did I put it in? Did someone else? I can't remember. What if I take it out for a minute, to prove I can. Will I be able to put it back in? I'd better leave it there. It's there for a reason. I can't remember why, but it should stay there. So I look, and... it's not there anymore. I scream GIVE IT BACK! In case you've lost count, this is episode 1,999. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-03,25393015 Tue, 03 Nov 2009 11:13:58 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393017-Seasick I don't like boats. I get horribly seasick. I've tried drugs, but those seasickness drugs make me even sicker. So, I stay off of boats. Recently, I was diagnosed with cancer. The chemotherapy made me really sick. So they gave me anti-nausea drugs. When the treatment was over and the doctors told me they couldn't do anything else, I didn't know what to do. So I got on a boat. And I felt fine. "Give me more of those pills," I said. "Enough to last me." So they did. Thirty yellow pills. And I've been on the water ever since. I don't like boats. I get horribly seasick. I've tried drugs, but those seasickness drugs make me even sicker. So, I stay off of boats. Recently, I was diagnosed with cancer. The chemotherapy made me really sick. So they gave me anti-nausea drugs. When the treatment was over and the doctors told me they couldn't do anything else, I didn't know what to do. So I got on a boat. And I felt fine. "Give me more of those pills," I said. "Enough to last me." So they did. Thirty yellow pills. And I've been on the water ever since. I don't like boats. I get horribly seasick. I've tried drugs, but those seasickness drugs make me even sicker. So, I stay off of boats. Recently, I was diagnosed with cancer. The chemotherapy made me really sick. So they gave me anti-nausea drugs. When the treatment was over and the doctors told me they couldn't do anything else, I didn't know what to do. So I got on a boat. And I felt fine. "Give me more of those pills," I said. "Enough to last me." So they did. Thirty yellow pills. And I've been on the water ever since. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-02,25393017 Mon, 02 Nov 2009 10:45:58 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393020-Catquake I am sitting on a sofa, next to a sleeping cat. He is purring in his sleep. I watch his whiskers twitch, his toes wriggle. He is dreaming. What is he dreaming of? Walking through grass? Laying in the sun? He's twitching more. Maybe he's running? If he told me, I'd keep his secret. But he never does. A secret never told is a secret kept. His fur ripples, his paws padding the air. His whole body is writhing, orange stripes like waves. And then, he wakes up with a meow. Licks a paw, and drifts off to sleep again. I am sitting on a sofa, next to a sleeping cat. He is purring in his sleep. I watch his whiskers twitch, his toes wriggle. He is dreaming. What is he dreaming of? Walking through grass? Laying in the sun? He's twitching more. Maybe he's running? If he told me, I'd keep his secret. But he never does. A secret never told is a secret kept. His fur ripples, his paws padding the air. His whole body is writhing, orange stripes like waves. And then, he wakes up with a meow. Licks a paw, and drifts off to sleep again. I am sitting on a sofa, next to a sleeping cat. He is purring in his sleep. I watch his whiskers twitch, his toes wriggle. He is dreaming. What is he dreaming of? Walking through grass? Laying in the sun? He's twitching more. Maybe he's running? If he told me, I'd keep his secret. But he never does. A secret never told is a secret kept. His fur ripples, his paws padding the air. His whole body is writhing, orange stripes like waves. And then, he wakes up with a meow. Licks a paw, and drifts off to sleep again. tag:odeo.com,2009-11-01,25393020 Sun, 01 Nov 2009 07:08:21 -0800 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393025-Weekly-Challenge-185-Mystery-Ingredient The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Mystery Ingredient. You have until midnight on Friday November 6 to get me the following The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #186 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the storie... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Mystery Ingredient. You have until midnight on Friday November 6 to get me the following The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #186 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 185 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. The next topic is Mystery Ingredient. You have until midnight on Friday November 6 to get me the following The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #186 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 185 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-31,25393025 Sat, 31 Oct 2009 17:47:00 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393027-Weekly-Challenge-184-Halloween Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Platinum Lightning Stephen the Nuclear Man Laieanna Zachmann Lynda Justin TJ JRadimus 1 JRadimus 2 Norval Joe    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Platinum Lightning Every year, on Halloween, my friends and I have a little party. We come to Dave's house in costume and tell stories around the fireplace whilst drinking warm cider. Mark brings his Ouija board, and we ask the spirits about our futures. We watch the children trick-or-treating outside, and remember when we used to trick-or-treat. Sometimes we watch horror movies, although they don't entertain us as much as they used ... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Platinum Lightning Stephen the Nuclear Man Laieanna Zachmann Lynda Justin TJ JRadimus 1 JRadimus 2 Norval Joe    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Platinum Lightning Every year, on Halloween, my friends and I have a little party. We come to Dave's house in costume and tell stories around the fireplace whilst drinking warm cider. Mark brings his Ouija board, and we ask the spirits about our futures. We watch the children trick-or-treating outside, and remember when we used to trick-or-treat. Sometimes we watch horror movies, although they don't entertain us as much as they used to. We talk and laugh together for hours. Then, when the clock strikes midnight, we go out to slaughter young children and devour their souls. There's something special about Halloween. Stephen When I was a kid, I loved Indiana Jones. I would walk around with my shirts unbuttoned to my pasty navel, carrying a string for a whip. I ran around the schoolyard humming the theme song. I also loved my Luke Skywalker Underoos. When friends came over, I would sometimes show them off, coming downstairs wearing nothing but the orange underwear. That was decades ago. Yesterday, a friend asked me what I was going to be for Halloween. "I don't know," I replied. But my hand fidgeted with my shirt buttons, and I swear my underwear suddenly turned bright orange. Laieanna (No Text) Zachmann Halloween means a spool of wire, six foot of chicken wire, a lawn funnel, a stack of newspaper, and me asking "Son, what is a Piranha Plant?" Then I wonder if "Would you buy spay paint for me?" is a logical response. I spend a couple of hours helping him cut and bend nine gauge wire into a sphere. Son covers it with chicken wire himself. Shows me the scares. He says it is okay for me to spend the money because he will use it at a Con. I hope he finishes in time. Halloween a holiday for geeks. Lynda My favorite time of year! I'm not allowed to enjoy the company of children any other day, but on Halloween there's an endless supply, and always more follow to enjoy my special treats. I can't give you my recipe, it's a family secret, handed down from my great-great-great-grandmammy Wanda. She escaped the old country with only the shawl on her back and a girl scout under her skirt. Very misunderstood woman. She loved children! Loved to make them cookies. Just like me! Don't be shy, kiddies, have another cookie! Watch your fingers! Wouldn't want them to break! Justin Kory peered out the window into the night. Kids all dressed up, ready to cause trouble. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with was dumb kids armed with spray cans with nothing better to do than tag a country club. He moved outside to sneak up behind them. Just as he switched on the flashlight to get there attention, dark shapes swooped in and tackled them to the ground. The light played over a pale face with blood stained fangs. On second thought, dumb kids were the next to last thing he wanted to deal with. TJ A nondescript doorway on a discreet side street hinted at nothing of the bacchanal within. Even so, Millicent’s All Hallow’s Eve masque was the devastation of the year. Cloaks flung aside to reveal the most outrageous, magnificent guises, masquerade most ravishing, a celebration of youth, intrigue and inspiration. Drink flowed like water and designer drugs made the rounds amidst the finery until the stroke of midnight. In the candlelight, the revelers shed every stitch of clothing for a midnight minuet. As the partiers came together on the dancefloor, arch ribaldry transformed to vulnerability and then acceptance. Masks changed, yet remained. JRadimus 1 Every high schooler has their after-school job to earn money. I’m a little different. Mine’s before school. I’m a paperboy. Every day, 365 days a year, I’m up at O-Dark-Thirty in the morning, treading the dark and lonely streets. I don’t mind the hours or the back-breaking weight of Sunday editions: I’m a Zombie. Things like that don’t bother loathsome undead like me. That’s right: I’m a Teenage Zombie Paperboy. Do you know what sucks most about being a Teenage Zombie Paperboy? Halloween. Do you know how often I’ve been stopped by police for Trick-or-Treating too late on November 1st? JRadimus 2 It’s the same nonsense every year. And it goes for almost two weeks. It’s not the Trick-or-Treating or the costumes, or any of that. No; what I hate are the lame jokes. I hear the same ones every year. You see, I’m a Zombie. The townsfolk are well-past their pitchfork fetishes, and the rest of the year it’s fine. But every year, from about October 24th, until around November 7th, it’s “Aren’t you a little early?” “Weren’t you a Zombie last year?” “Trick-or-Treating’s over, son.” Next year, I’m going to eat anyone who asks me something stupid. There’s your “Trick-or-Treat.” Norval Joe I can hear them out on the front porch right now, pounding on my door. Normally, their scared of me, but for some reason on Halloween they think they can come harass me. I leave the porch light off, but they must have seen me through the curtains. Now they've found the doorbell and are ringing it with abandon. I throw open the door and shout, "what do you want?" The snot nosed brats, secure behind their masks and makeup, squeal, "Trickertreet" For the next prompt I would choose...super hero I scowl and say, "Here, you can have the butterfingers, I hate em. The snickers are all mine." Planet Z This has got to be the worst Halloween ever. The Wolfman, he have fleas. Frankenstein's monster, always being called Frankenstein. He's in therapy now. Identity issues. The Creature From The Black Lagoon, his home got drained. Turned into a golf course. And nobody's seen the Invisible Man for ages. Worst of all, I, Count Dracula, well... I've got to see a dentist for a chipped fang. This party's a bust. The games are dumb. Pin The Tail On The Obama Poster? Tours of a haunted Portapotty? Who the hell came up with Bobbing For Pizza anyway? Oh, just stake me! Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Halloween! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Platinum Lightning Stephen the Nuclear Man Laieanna Zachmann Lynda Justin TJ JRadimus 1 JRadimus 2 Norval Joe    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Platinum Lightning Every year, on Halloween, my friends and I have a little party. We come to Dave's house in costume and tell stories around the fireplace whilst drinking warm cider. Mark brings his Ouija board, and we ask the spirits about our futures. We watch the children trick-or-treating outside, and remember when we used to trick-or-treat. Sometimes we watch horror movies, although they don't entertain us as much as they used to. We talk and laugh together for hours. Then, when the clock strikes midnight, we go out to slaughter young children and devour their souls. There's something special about Halloween. Stephen When I was a kid, I loved Indiana Jones. I would walk around with my shirts unbuttoned to my pasty navel, carrying a string for a whip. I ran around the schoolyard humming the theme song. I also loved my Luke Skywalker Underoos. When friends came over, I would sometimes show them off, coming downstairs wearing nothing but the orange underwear. That was decades ago. Yesterday, a friend asked me what I was going to be for Halloween. "I don't know," I replied. But my hand fidgeted with my shirt buttons, and I swear my underwear suddenly turned bright orange. Laieanna (No Text) Zachmann Halloween means a spool of wire, six foot of chicken wire, a lawn funnel, a stack of newspaper, and me asking "Son, what is a Piranha Plant?" Then I wonder if "Would you buy spay paint for me?" is a logical response. I spend a couple of hours helping him cut and bend nine gauge wire into a sphere. Son covers it with chicken wire himself. Shows me the scares. He says it is okay for me to spend the money because he will use it at a Con. I hope he finishes in time. Halloween a holiday for geeks. Lynda My favorite time of year! I'm not allowed to enjoy the company of children any other day, but on Halloween there's an endless supply, and always more follow to enjoy my special treats. I can't give you my recipe, it's a family secret, handed down from my great-great-great-grandmammy Wanda. She escaped the old country with only the shawl on her back and a girl scout under her skirt. Very misunderstood woman. She loved children! Loved to make them cookies. Just like me! Don't be shy, kiddies, have another cookie! Watch your fingers! Wouldn't want them to break! Justin Kory peered out the window into the night. Kids all dressed up, ready to cause trouble. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with was dumb kids armed with spray cans with nothing better to do than tag a country club. He moved outside to sneak up behind them. Just as he switched on the flashlight to get there attention, dark shapes swooped in and tackled them to the ground. The light played over a pale face with blood stained fangs. On second thought, dumb kids were the next to last thing he wanted to deal with. TJ A nondescript doorway on a discreet side street hinted at nothing of the bacchanal within. Even so, Millicent’s All Hallow’s Eve masque was the devastation of the year. Cloaks flung aside to reveal the most outrageous, magnificent guises, masquerade most ravishing, a celebration of youth, intrigue and inspiration. Drink flowed like water and designer drugs made the rounds amidst the finery until the stroke of midnight. In the candlelight, the revelers shed every stitch of clothing for a midnight minuet. As the partiers came together on the dancefloor, arch ribaldry transformed to vulnerability and then acceptance. Masks changed, yet remained. JRadimus 1 Every high schooler has their after-school job to earn money. I’m a little different. Mine’s before school. I’m a paperboy. Every day, 365 days a year, I’m up at O-Dark-Thirty in the morning, treading the dark and lonely streets. I don’t mind the hours or the back-breaking weight of Sunday editions: I’m a Zombie. Things like that don’t bother loathsome undead like me. That’s right: I’m a Teenage Zombie Paperboy. Do you know what sucks most about being a Teenage Zombie Paperboy? Halloween. Do you know how often I’ve been stopped by police for Trick-or-Treating too late on November 1st? JRadimus 2 It’s the same nonsense every year. And it goes for almost two weeks. It’s not the Trick-or-Treating or the costumes, or any of that. No; what I hate are the lame jokes. I hear the same ones every year. You see, I’m a Zombie. The townsfolk are well-past their pitchfork fetishes, and the rest of the year it’s fine. But every year, from about October 24th, until around November 7th, it’s “Aren’t you a little early?” “Weren’t you a Zombie last year?” “Trick-or-Treating’s over, son.” Next year, I’m going to eat anyone who asks me something stupid. There’s your “Trick-or-Treat.” Norval Joe I can hear them out on the front porch right now, pounding on my door. Normally, their scared of me, but for some reason on Halloween they think they can come harass me. I leave the porch light off, but they must have seen me through the curtains. Now they've found the doorbell and are ringing it with abandon. I throw open the door and shout, "what do you want?" The snot nosed brats, secure behind their masks and makeup, squeal, "Trickertreet" For the next prompt I would choose...super hero I scowl and say, "Here, you can have the butterfingers, I hate em. The snickers are all mine." Planet Z This has got to be the worst Halloween ever. The Wolfman, he have fleas. Frankenstein's monster, always being called Frankenstein. He's in therapy now. Identity issues. The Creature From The Black Lagoon, his home got drained. Turned into a golf course. And nobody's seen the Invisible Man for ages. Worst of all, I, Count Dracula, well... I've got to see a dentist for a chipped fang. This party's a bust. The games are dumb. Pin The Tail On The Obama Poster? Tours of a haunted Portapotty? Who the hell came up with Bobbing For Pizza anyway? Oh, just stake me! tag:odeo.com,2009-10-31,25393027 Sat, 31 Oct 2009 07:52:11 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393031-Halloween-and-Black-Cats This is my first Halloween owning a black cat. Two of them, actually. They're indoor-outdoor cats, and they don't like being cooped up. But letting them out on Halloween, well, I've heard stories. Bad stories. Teenagers killing them and mutilating them and setting them on fire and leaving the corpses on doorsteps. No, I'd rather that not happen to these cats. So, they're staying inside. The orange cat, well, he can go outside all he wants. The black cats look out the window and whine. On the other side, the orange cat flicks his tail proudly and goes off hunting. This is my first Halloween owning a black cat. Two of them, actually. They're indoor-outdoor cats, and they don't like being cooped up. But letting them out on Halloween, well, I've heard stories. Bad stories. Teenagers killing them and mutilating them and setting them on fire and leaving the corpses on doorsteps. No, I'd rather that not happen to these cats. So, they're staying inside. The orange cat, well, he can go outside all he wants. The black cats look out the window and whine. On the other side, the orange cat flicks his tail proudly and goes off hunting. This is my first Halloween owning a black cat. Two of them, actually. They're indoor-outdoor cats, and they don't like being cooped up. But letting them out on Halloween, well, I've heard stories. Bad stories. Teenagers killing them and mutilating them and setting them on fire and leaving the corpses on doorsteps. No, I'd rather that not happen to these cats. So, they're staying inside. The orange cat, well, he can go outside all he wants. The black cats look out the window and whine. On the other side, the orange cat flicks his tail proudly and goes off hunting. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-30,25393031 Fri, 30 Oct 2009 06:46:49 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393034-House-Call I've been pretty sick recently. Doctors did some tests. Did more tests. “You have cancer,” they finally said. “Real bad.” No treatment will do any good. So, I go home, take the phone off the hook, and get drunk. And stay drunk. For three weeks. I get a knock on the door. It's a doctor. Says he's been trying to call me. He has a drug now. Nanobots. Kills the cancer. “So, I'll live?” I ask. He gives me the injection. “No,” he says. “This'll kill you too. We just need your organs for transplant.” I've been pretty sick recently. Doctors did some tests. Did more tests. “You have cancer,” they finally said. “Real bad.” No treatment will do any good. So, I go home, take the phone off the hook, and get drunk. And stay drunk. For three weeks. I get a knock on the door. It's a doctor. Says he's been trying to call me. He has a drug now. Nanobots. Kills the cancer. “So, I'll live?” I ask. He gives me the injection. “No,” he says. “This'll kill you too. We just need your organs for transplant.” I've been pretty sick recently. Doctors did some tests. Did more tests. “You have cancer,” they finally said. “Real bad.” No treatment will do any good. So, I go home, take the phone off the hook, and get drunk. And stay drunk. For three weeks. I get a knock on the door. It's a doctor. Says he's been trying to call me. He has a drug now. Nanobots. Kills the cancer. “So, I'll live?” I ask. He gives me the injection. “No,” he says. “This'll kill you too. We just need your organs for transplant.” tag:odeo.com,2009-10-29,25393034 Thu, 29 Oct 2009 16:28:07 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393045-The-Possible-Pelicans The zoo pays me well enough. What's my job? I feed the lions during the day and bless the pelicans every night. The rest of the time, I stand and smile. Sometimes, I wave. I do this seven days a week, every day of the year. People ask me things and I tell them that's interesting. The bosses give me babies to feed the lions, and I toss them into their habitat. Then I stand and smile to keep from screaming. I drink vodka. Constantly. I bless the pelicans, thinking they're penguins. Just pink. Or are those flamingos? Or babies? The zoo pays me well enough. What's my job? I feed the lions during the day and bless the pelicans every night. The rest of the time, I stand and smile. Sometimes, I wave. I do this seven days a week, every day of the year. People ask me things and I tell them that's interesting. The bosses give me babies to feed the lions, and I toss them into their habitat. Then I stand and smile to keep from screaming. I drink vodka. Constantly. I bless the pelicans, thinking they're penguins. Just pink. Or are those flamingos? Or babies? The zoo pays me well enough. What's my job? I feed the lions during the day and bless the pelicans every night. The rest of the time, I stand and smile. Sometimes, I wave. I do this seven days a week, every day of the year. People ask me things and I tell them that's interesting. The bosses give me babies to feed the lions, and I toss them into their habitat. Then I stand and smile to keep from screaming. I drink vodka. Constantly. I bless the pelicans, thinking they're penguins. Just pink. Or are those flamingos? Or babies? tag:odeo.com,2009-10-28,25393045 Wed, 28 Oct 2009 20:46:46 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25393062-Breaking-A-Leg She broke my heart, so I broke her legs. Well, I didn't break her legs. There's this guy who does that stuff for me. I tell him what she did, and the guy said “Yeah, I'd break her legs for cheating on me like that.” Turns out that it was him. He was the one. So, after he broke her legs, I told him to break his own legs. That, he couldn't do. “I could outsource it to this guy I know...” Never mind. Just don't do her... it again. He breaks legs, not promises. Loyalty is everything. She broke my heart, so I broke her legs. Well, I didn't break her legs. There's this guy who does that stuff for me. I tell him what she did, and the guy said “Yeah, I'd break her legs for cheating on me like that.” Turns out that it was him. He was the one. So, after he broke her legs, I told him to break his own legs. That, he couldn't do. “I could outsource it to this guy I know...” Never mind. Just don't do her... it again. He breaks legs, not promises. Loyalty is everything. She broke my heart, so I broke her legs. Well, I didn't break her legs. There's this guy who does that stuff for me. I tell him what she did, and the guy said “Yeah, I'd break her legs for cheating on me like that.” Turns out that it was him. He was the one. So, after he broke her legs, I told him to break his own legs. That, he couldn't do. “I could outsource it to this guy I know...” Never mind. Just don't do her... it again. He breaks legs, not promises. Loyalty is everything. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-27,25393062 Tue, 27 Oct 2009 21:14:35 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25379828-Ten-Foot-Pole There's some things people wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Which means there's other things that they will touch with one. Do you have a ten foot pole? Well, then come on in. Look around. I have a mighty fine selection of ten foot poles to choose from. If you don't have room for one, then maybe you'll consider a pair of five foot poles that you can connect into a ten foot pole? Or one of these handy extending poles… folds down into a single foot. Fits in a purse. You know you need one. Come on in. There's some things people wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Which means there's other things that they will touch with one. Do you have a ten foot pole? Well, then come on in. Look around. I have a mighty fine selection of ten foot poles to choose from. If you don't have room for one, then maybe you'll consider a pair of five foot poles that you can connect into a ten foot pole? Or one of these handy extending poles… folds down into a single foot. Fits in a purse. You know you need one. Come on in. There's some things people wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. Which means there's other things that they will touch with one. Do you have a ten foot pole? Well, then come on in. Look around. I have a mighty fine selection of ten foot poles to choose from. If you don't have room for one, then maybe you'll consider a pair of five foot poles that you can connect into a ten foot pole? Or one of these handy extending poles… folds down into a single foot. Fits in a purse. You know you need one. Come on in. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-26,25379828 Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:05:43 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25379829-Sold That's a mighty fine looking baby you have there. How much will you sell that baby for? You don't do drugs. You don't drink. You seem healthy enough and so does the baby. There's no way you can afford that baby, no matter how healthy it is. All babies get sick, need diapers... all that stuff. It's not easy setting a price, and nobody likes an auction for a baby, even if for a healthy one. The market rate is fifty dollars a pound, precooked weight, but this one looks like seventy-five dollars. Try eighty, and leave the diaper on. That's a mighty fine looking baby you have there. How much will you sell that baby for? You don't do drugs. You don't drink. You seem healthy enough and so does the baby. There's no way you can afford that baby, no matter how healthy it is. All babies get sick, need diapers... all that stuff. It's not easy setting a price, and nobody likes an auction for a baby, even if for a healthy one. The market rate is fifty dollars a pound, precooked weight, but this one looks like seventy-five dollars. Try eighty, and leave the diaper on. That's a mighty fine looking baby you have there. How much will you sell that baby for? You don't do drugs. You don't drink. You seem healthy enough and so does the baby. There's no way you can afford that baby, no matter how healthy it is. All babies get sick, need diapers... all that stuff. It's not easy setting a price, and nobody likes an auction for a baby, even if for a healthy one. The market rate is fifty dollars a pound, precooked weight, but this one looks like seventy-five dollars. Try eighty, and leave the diaper on. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-25,25379829 Sun, 25 Oct 2009 14:04:50 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25364307-Weekly-Challenge-184-Halloween The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was... well, it doesn't matter who the winner was because we have another special holiday-themed episode coming up: And the topic is Halloween. You have until midnight on Friday October 30 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #185 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce ... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was... well, it doesn't matter who the winner was because we have another special holiday-themed episode coming up: And the topic is Halloween. You have until midnight on Friday October 30 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #185 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 184 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was... well, it doesn't matter who the winner was because we have another special holiday-themed episode coming up: And the topic is Halloween. You have until midnight on Friday October 30 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #185 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 184 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-24,25364307 Sat, 24 Oct 2009 16:39:01 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25369651-Weekly-Challenge-183-Peace Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. I'd like to take a moment to that Guy David for having been a part of this podcast over the years. He's let me know that this will be his last story. You've made my life that much more surreal, and I've come to embrace the principle that life's too short to listen to bad music with your wisdom. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Stephen Before, there was screaming. The screams were in my head. It was all too much. Keeping up the house. Having the newest car. The stupid forms at work. Her marath... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. I'd like to take a moment to that Guy David for having been a part of this podcast over the years. He's let me know that this will be his last story. You've made my life that much more surreal, and I've come to embrace the principle that life's too short to listen to bad music with your wisdom. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Stephen Before, there was screaming. The screams were in my head. It was all too much. Keeping up the house. Having the newest car. The stupid forms at work. Her marathon shopping sprees. The kids deciding their new hobby was too boring after we'd rearranged our schedules. Working twelve hour days to afford it all. Even the dog growled at me. Then the bum bit me. Twelve hours later, and I'm infected like him. It's simple now. I hunger for human flesh, and I kill. And I eat. The screams are outside my head now. But my mind is at peace. Lynda I was told I might die. Might. Everyone dies, what's the big deal? Not everyone finds peace. That thought scared me all the way to this mountain. Forty minutes into the climb my muscles hurt so bad I almost believed everyone who told me I couldn't do this, and I wanted to hate them but I was too busy. After my lungs stopped burning I started to feel hungry. Eventually that passed, too. When I reached the top, an old man greeted me. "What took you so long?" Too tired to do anything but laugh, we sat watching the sunset. Jeffrey 1 At the end of world war one, it was thought that peace for at least a life time was inevitable. There was no way that anyone would want to fight a war again after such carnage and destruction of the first world war, and so it was named the war to end all wars. Then the great depression happened, and countries struggled to make ends meet. When you have ten starving people in a room and there is only six sandwiches they are going to fight over them, and so we have world war two. They should have read history. Jeffrey 2 You know what it is supposed to be like in church. Everyone is quite listening to the preacher, praying. If you are old enough to remember the days before Mass was in english, you probably say the rosary instead of listening. But, if you have little kids with you it is a totally different experience. You spend time getting them to be quiet, not play with the kneelers, not chew on the books, and not make airplanes out of the bulletin. When the sign of peace comes it means something totally different to you. Peace and quiet be with you. Anima I have seen many spectacular things; with my favored nephew these thoughts I share: There are two things required of a friend: The ability to laugh, and the ability to laugh at oneself. There are four thoughts that oft occupy the mind, only three that I will share: An ice cold drink after mowing the lawn, the commitment to reach the summit, and a tender kiss; that is enough. And there are three things that man says, that are not taken seriously: I come in peace; Do you want a piece of me? And Man, I really have to piss. Justin I have no idea how Major Ricks got his rank, because he's a complete moron, dangerously so. He wont allow our sniper to relocate to counter the enemy sniper. I've lost five men because of this. The only sense I've ever seen in him is that he removed his rank insignias so the sniper wont know who he is the few times he's in the open. Here he comes now crouched, and scowling like always. I tell him my thoughts of him. He stands, red faced. I also stand, then salute. His scowling face explodes. Rest in peace, Major Ricks. JRadimus The war began instantly. The fighting had been intense, the losses devastating. Across the battlefield, amongst the mangled weaponry and war machines, lay the bloody, dismembered corpses of the lucky, the maimed, moaning bodies of the unlucky, and the scattered pieces of the rest. The aggressor was merciless. He ordered maneuvers without regard for his own casualties, only how much it would destroy his enemy. It was a carnal bloodlust. Suddenly, the commander instantly ceased his rampage with as little warning as he had begun. “Matthew, dinner!” the young warlord’s father called. “Yes! Spaghetti!” This peace would only be temporary. Basrai She likes the sound of it, but hesitates still. She knows her baby is coming; its head is lower, protruding into her pelvic bone, and causing discomfort. Still she hesitates. She turns her thought many times over inside her head, like choosing a pumpkin; but as soon as her decision was made, she again put it back, again indecisive. She loves to name it Shanti, Sanskrit for Peace. But a name defines, insists. Shanti weighs, almost a burden. She vacillates until the delivery. Now, as she caresses Shanti’s pink toes, she no longer fears, for tiny Shanti needs her protection. Zacmann Brad ran fast. Brad was terrified. Brad was being chased by big birds with snakelike heads. They wanted to eat him. He grabbed an ax and chopped the through a bird's snakelike neck. Two heads grew back. Brad remembered that his neighbor from the UK said he always kept a torch in his workshop. It worked for Hercules Brad thought but only found a flashlight. Luckily, Brad soon found the snakebirds did not like light from LED bulbs in their eyes. The snakebirds returned to their space ship. Although Brad feared someday they might return, for now he had peace. TJ A hole in the ice is an eerie, uneasy peace. Silence echoes from distant hills and a vast new acoustic takes hold, at once outlandish yet familiar to North Country denizens. Is it evidence of an ice fisherman since headed on homeward with a string full of supper, or something more sinister … a brave yet foolhardy early season lake-walker … one less snowmobiler … a seaplane landing that ended badly. Is it mere open water, a lake not yet frozen over? Vital clues remain hidden by the freshly fallen snow: Namely, how many tracks lead there … and back? Norval Joe "You expect me to believe you want peace?" Amy spat at the old man. Derrick walked around the chair where she sat, and stood in front of her. "You can believe it or stay locked in this room," he said. Dominick Lorrantelle smiled over his grandson's shoulder. "Enough of that. There is more than your personal comfort at stake, here. There are many who seek freedom." She struggled in her bonds. "Freedom from you." She glared. "With domination will come peace," he said and turned his back on her. "That is more freedom than most have enjoyed for many years." Guy David Father Peace stood at the seaside mourning. “My children, why have you forsaken me” he whispered. An old sea captain swaggered to him and offered him a drink. “At my time, I have seen many a treasures” he said, “but the biggest treasure of all was friendship. I have seen much cruelty and misdeeds, but human nature always comes up on the right side at the end. Don’t weep for your children father peace, for peace is what they seek, and peace is what they would find.” With that, the sea captain went back to sea, looking for Father Time. Planet Z When I was young, the preacher said you won't find peace in a saloon, a bottle of pills, in packs of cigarettes, at the end of a needle, between women's legs, or all the filth Hollywood smears on the screen. So, I drank. I popped pills. I smoke. I shot up heroin. I fucked every woman from Los Angeles to Boston and back again. The preacher, he shouted and yelled and thumped his Bible and stayed up nights writing sermons till the day he died. Never a moment of peace. Me, I've had a good ride. No regrets at all. Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. I'd like to take a moment to that Guy David for having been a part of this podcast over the years. He's let me know that this will be his last story. You've made my life that much more surreal, and I've come to embrace the principle that life's too short to listen to bad music with your wisdom. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Stephen Before, there was screaming. The screams were in my head. It was all too much. Keeping up the house. Having the newest car. The stupid forms at work. Her marathon shopping sprees. The kids deciding their new hobby was too boring after we'd rearranged our schedules. Working twelve hour days to afford it all. Even the dog growled at me. Then the bum bit me. Twelve hours later, and I'm infected like him. It's simple now. I hunger for human flesh, and I kill. And I eat. The screams are outside my head now. But my mind is at peace. Lynda I was told I might die. Might. Everyone dies, what's the big deal? Not everyone finds peace. That thought scared me all the way to this mountain. Forty minutes into the climb my muscles hurt so bad I almost believed everyone who told me I couldn't do this, and I wanted to hate them but I was too busy. After my lungs stopped burning I started to feel hungry. Eventually that passed, too. When I reached the top, an old man greeted me. "What took you so long?" Too tired to do anything but laugh, we sat watching the sunset. Jeffrey 1 At the end of world war one, it was thought that peace for at least a life time was inevitable. There was no way that anyone would want to fight a war again after such carnage and destruction of the first world war, and so it was named the war to end all wars. Then the great depression happened, and countries struggled to make ends meet. When you have ten starving people in a room and there is only six sandwiches they are going to fight over them, and so we have world war two. They should have read history. Jeffrey 2 You know what it is supposed to be like in church. Everyone is quite listening to the preacher, praying. If you are old enough to remember the days before Mass was in english, you probably say the rosary instead of listening. But, if you have little kids with you it is a totally different experience. You spend time getting them to be quiet, not play with the kneelers, not chew on the books, and not make airplanes out of the bulletin. When the sign of peace comes it means something totally different to you. Peace and quiet be with you. Anima I have seen many spectacular things; with my favored nephew these thoughts I share: There are two things required of a friend: The ability to laugh, and the ability to laugh at oneself. There are four thoughts that oft occupy the mind, only three that I will share: An ice cold drink after mowing the lawn, the commitment to reach the summit, and a tender kiss; that is enough. And there are three things that man says, that are not taken seriously: I come in peace; Do you want a piece of me? And Man, I really have to piss. Justin I have no idea how Major Ricks got his rank, because he's a complete moron, dangerously so. He wont allow our sniper to relocate to counter the enemy sniper. I've lost five men because of this. The only sense I've ever seen in him is that he removed his rank insignias so the sniper wont know who he is the few times he's in the open. Here he comes now crouched, and scowling like always. I tell him my thoughts of him. He stands, red faced. I also stand, then salute. His scowling face explodes. Rest in peace, Major Ricks. JRadimus The war began instantly. The fighting had been intense, the losses devastating. Across the battlefield, amongst the mangled weaponry and war machines, lay the bloody, dismembered corpses of the lucky, the maimed, moaning bodies of the unlucky, and the scattered pieces of the rest. The aggressor was merciless. He ordered maneuvers without regard for his own casualties, only how much it would destroy his enemy. It was a carnal bloodlust. Suddenly, the commander instantly ceased his rampage with as little warning as he had begun. “Matthew, dinner!” the young warlord’s father called. “Yes! Spaghetti!” This peace would only be temporary. Basrai She likes the sound of it, but hesitates still. She knows her baby is coming; its head is lower, protruding into her pelvic bone, and causing discomfort. Still she hesitates. She turns her thought many times over inside her head, like choosing a pumpkin; but as soon as her decision was made, she again put it back, again indecisive. She loves to name it Shanti, Sanskrit for Peace. But a name defines, insists. Shanti weighs, almost a burden. She vacillates until the delivery. Now, as she caresses Shanti’s pink toes, she no longer fears, for tiny Shanti needs her protection. Zacmann Brad ran fast. Brad was terrified. Brad was being chased by big birds with snakelike heads. They wanted to eat him. He grabbed an ax and chopped the through a bird's snakelike neck. Two heads grew back. Brad remembered that his neighbor from the UK said he always kept a torch in his workshop. It worked for Hercules Brad thought but only found a flashlight. Luckily, Brad soon found the snakebirds did not like light from LED bulbs in their eyes. The snakebirds returned to their space ship. Although Brad feared someday they might return, for now he had peace. TJ A hole in the ice is an eerie, uneasy peace. Silence echoes from distant hills and a vast new acoustic takes hold, at once outlandish yet familiar to North Country denizens. Is it evidence of an ice fisherman since headed on homeward with a string full of supper, or something more sinister … a brave yet foolhardy early season lake-walker … one less snowmobiler … a seaplane landing that ended badly. Is it mere open water, a lake not yet frozen over? Vital clues remain hidden by the freshly fallen snow: Namely, how many tracks lead there … and back? Norval Joe "You expect me to believe you want peace?" Amy spat at the old man. Derrick walked around the chair where she sat, and stood in front of her. "You can believe it or stay locked in this room," he said. Dominick Lorrantelle smiled over his grandson's shoulder. "Enough of that. There is more than your personal comfort at stake, here. There are many who seek freedom." She struggled in her bonds. "Freedom from you." She glared. "With domination will come peace," he said and turned his back on her. "That is more freedom than most have enjoyed for many years." Guy David Father Peace stood at the seaside mourning. “My children, why have you forsaken me” he whispered. An old sea captain swaggered to him and offered him a drink. “At my time, I have seen many a treasures” he said, “but the biggest treasure of all was friendship. I have seen much cruelty and misdeeds, but human nature always comes up on the right side at the end. Don’t weep for your children father peace, for peace is what they seek, and peace is what they would find.” With that, the sea captain went back to sea, looking for Father Time. Planet Z When I was young, the preacher said you won't find peace in a saloon, a bottle of pills, in packs of cigarettes, at the end of a needle, between women's legs, or all the filth Hollywood smears on the screen. So, I drank. I popped pills. I smoke. I shot up heroin. I fucked every woman from Los Angeles to Boston and back again. The preacher, he shouted and yelled and thumped his Bible and stayed up nights writing sermons till the day he died. Never a moment of peace. Me, I've had a good ride. No regrets at all. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-24,25369651 Sat, 24 Oct 2009 06:41:45 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25364308-Heaven-and-Hell John Lennon was half-right. There is no Hell below us. That's actually where Heaven is. But above us, there isn't only sky. In the void between the stars, that's where condemned souls wander for all eternity. Heaven is right under our feet, safe in the dirt. That is why we bury our dead, you know. To send them to their Heavenly reward. It doesn't quite work out for those who have led wicked lives. Their souls rise up, up through the clouds and into the cold vastness of space. They never return, they never arrive anywhere. Scattered, cast away forever. John Lennon was half-right. There is no Hell below us. That's actually where Heaven is. But above us, there isn't only sky. In the void between the stars, that's where condemned souls wander for all eternity. Heaven is right under our feet, safe in the dirt. That is why we bury our dead, you know. To send them to their Heavenly reward. It doesn't quite work out for those who have led wicked lives. Their souls rise up, up through the clouds and into the cold vastness of space. They never return, they never arrive anywhere. Scattered, cast away forever. John Lennon was half-right. There is no Hell below us. That's actually where Heaven is. But above us, there isn't only sky. In the void between the stars, that's where condemned souls wander for all eternity. Heaven is right under our feet, safe in the dirt. That is why we bury our dead, you know. To send them to their Heavenly reward. It doesn't quite work out for those who have led wicked lives. Their souls rise up, up through the clouds and into the cold vastness of space. They never return, they never arrive anywhere. Scattered, cast away forever. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-23,25364308 Fri, 23 Oct 2009 22:32:44 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25364309-The-Pie-Man I never got the humor in someone getting hit in the face with a pie, but the old man on television got hit constantly with pies and people loved him for it. Every show he was on, you knew from the moment he appeared on camera, he wasn't going to leave without pie in his face. Even at his funeral, it was an open casket ceremony, and he was smacked in the face by half a dozen mourners. Two or three pies get smacked against his headstone every night. Me, I'm stuck washing them off. Still nothing funny about it. Thank you, Soupy Sales. I never got the humor in someone getting hit in the face with a pie, but the old man on television got hit constantly with pies and people loved him for it. Every show he was on, you knew from the moment he appeared on camera, he wasn't going to leave without pie in his face. Even at his funeral, it was an open casket ceremony, and he was smacked in the face by half a dozen mourners. Two or three pies get smacked against his headstone every night. Me, I'm stuck washing them off. Still nothing funny about it. Thank you, Soupy Sales. I never got the humor in someone getting hit in the face with a pie, but the old man on television got hit constantly with pies and people loved him for it. Every show he was on, you knew from the moment he appeared on camera, he wasn't going to leave without pie in his face. Even at his funeral, it was an open casket ceremony, and he was smacked in the face by half a dozen mourners. Two or three pies get smacked against his headstone every night. Me, I'm stuck washing them off. Still nothing funny about it. Thank you, Soupy Sales. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-22,25364309 Thu, 22 Oct 2009 21:47:40 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25364310-Mushrooms Deep in the forests of North Umberland, a beam of sunshine falls upon a circle of mushrooms on which the Council Of Elder Faeries sit. Stroking his long white beard, Gonfall the Elder spoke first. "For our first order of business, can we agree that we need to buy chairs and a conference table?" he said. The other elves agreed. "These toadstools are always damp," said Glistensparkle. "Going around with wet spots on our pants sucks." "And Pollygoogle is allergic," mumbled Tinkerwhiskers. "Swells up like a peach." The Council moved to adjourn, and they flew off to the furniture store. Deep in the forests of North Umberland, a beam of sunshine falls upon a circle of mushrooms on which the Council Of Elder Faeries sit. Stroking his long white beard, Gonfall the Elder spoke first. "For our first order of business, can we agree that we need to buy chairs and a conference table?" he said. The other elves agreed. "These toadstools are always damp," said Glistensparkle. "Going around with wet spots on our pants sucks." "And Pollygoogle is allergic," mumbled Tinkerwhiskers. "Swells up like a peach." The Council moved to adjourn, and they flew off to the furniture store. Deep in the forests of North Umberland, a beam of sunshine falls upon a circle of mushrooms on which the Council Of Elder Faeries sit. Stroking his long white beard, Gonfall the Elder spoke first. "For our first order of business, can we agree that we need to buy chairs and a conference table?" he said. The other elves agreed. "These toadstools are always damp," said Glistensparkle. "Going around with wet spots on our pants sucks." "And Pollygoogle is allergic," mumbled Tinkerwhiskers. "Swells up like a peach." The Council moved to adjourn, and they flew off to the furniture store. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-21,25364310 Wed, 21 Oct 2009 08:12:54 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25321692-The-Gumbo Cletus won't tell me what's in his gumbo. He's scared of people learning his recipe, so not only does he buy his own groceries from the market to make it, he buys extra ingredients to throw anyone off that's looking through the trash. He won't let anyone in the kitchen when he makes it. He cleans the dishes to keep anyone from using forensic science on them. The more blue ribbons he earns, the crazier he gets. “Where did you hide the cameras?” he shrieks, tinfoil hat askew on his head. “In the vent,” I think, and smile. Cletus won't tell me what's in his gumbo. He's scared of people learning his recipe, so not only does he buy his own groceries from the market to make it, he buys extra ingredients to throw anyone off that's looking through the trash. He won't let anyone in the kitchen when he makes it. He cleans the dishes to keep anyone from using forensic science on them. The more blue ribbons he earns, the crazier he gets. “Where did you hide the cameras?” he shrieks, tinfoil hat askew on his head. “In the vent,” I think, and smile. Cletus won't tell me what's in his gumbo. He's scared of people learning his recipe, so not only does he buy his own groceries from the market to make it, he buys extra ingredients to throw anyone off that's looking through the trash. He won't let anyone in the kitchen when he makes it. He cleans the dishes to keep anyone from using forensic science on them. The more blue ribbons he earns, the crazier he gets. “Where did you hide the cameras?” he shrieks, tinfoil hat askew on his head. “In the vent,” I think, and smile. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-20,25321692 Tue, 20 Oct 2009 20:07:35 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25314416-Never-explain-the-light There is a light under the water, about a mile offshore. We sent a crew out. They never came back, no answer the radio, either. You can't see it in the daytime, but at night, it's bright enough to light up the ocean. We called the Coast Guard, and they said to just let it be. "What about the crew?" I asked. "Hold a memorial service," said the Coast Guard. "And fish elsewhere." They won't tell us anything else. The Navy just sends us to the Coast Guard. Whatever it is, it's getting brighter. And now, it's starting to sing. There is a light under the water, about a mile offshore. We sent a crew out. They never came back, no answer the radio, either. You can't see it in the daytime, but at night, it's bright enough to light up the ocean. We called the Coast Guard, and they said to just let it be. "What about the crew?" I asked. "Hold a memorial service," said the Coast Guard. "And fish elsewhere." They won't tell us anything else. The Navy just sends us to the Coast Guard. Whatever it is, it's getting brighter. And now, it's starting to sing. There is a light under the water, about a mile offshore. We sent a crew out. They never came back, no answer the radio, either. You can't see it in the daytime, but at night, it's bright enough to light up the ocean. We called the Coast Guard, and they said to just let it be. "What about the crew?" I asked. "Hold a memorial service," said the Coast Guard. "And fish elsewhere." They won't tell us anything else. The Navy just sends us to the Coast Guard. Whatever it is, it's getting brighter. And now, it's starting to sing. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-19,25314416 Mon, 19 Oct 2009 11:59:31 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25308989-Orangeness I woke up early on Sunday. Jenny's still asleep. I should surprise her. Jenny likes the pumpkin spice pudding. So I dumped the powder into a plastic container, added a cup of milk, and closed the lid. After a minute of shaking, the orange goo was all over the kitchen. Jenny had poked holes in the lid for her frog hunting. Can't keep them in a sealed plastic container without air holes, you know. She woke up, looked around the kitchen, and said if I wanted to surprise her, I should do a halfway decent job of cleaning the kitchen. I woke up early on Sunday. Jenny's still asleep. I should surprise her. Jenny likes the pumpkin spice pudding. So I dumped the powder into a plastic container, added a cup of milk, and closed the lid. After a minute of shaking, the orange goo was all over the kitchen. Jenny had poked holes in the lid for her frog hunting. Can't keep them in a sealed plastic container without air holes, you know. She woke up, looked around the kitchen, and said if I wanted to surprise her, I should do a halfway decent job of cleaning the kitchen. I woke up early on Sunday. Jenny's still asleep. I should surprise her. Jenny likes the pumpkin spice pudding. So I dumped the powder into a plastic container, added a cup of milk, and closed the lid. After a minute of shaking, the orange goo was all over the kitchen. Jenny had poked holes in the lid for her frog hunting. Can't keep them in a sealed plastic container without air holes, you know. She woke up, looked around the kitchen, and said if I wanted to surprise her, I should do a halfway decent job of cleaning the kitchen. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-18,25308989 Sun, 18 Oct 2009 10:47:08 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25303052-Weekly-Challenge-183-Peace The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Basrai. And the topic is Peace. You have until midnight on Friday October 23 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #184 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the sto... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Basrai. And the topic is Peace. You have until midnight on Friday October 23 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #184 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 183 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Basrai. And the topic is Peace. You have until midnight on Friday October 23 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #184 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 183 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-17,25303052 Sat, 17 Oct 2009 18:24:38 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25303053-Weekly-Challenge-182-Crushed Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Lynda Dearest Eliza, As I'm sure you recall, our cousin Jack has been undertaking the peculiar task of collecting bits of thread for the past seven years, and I am grateful to you for your contribution of the clippings from your pantaloons, however I must report the tragic news that our dear cousin was crushed beneath his great ball of fibers this past Thursday. Do not grieve, as Jack prized your threads above all others and had little interest in anything sav... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Lynda Dearest Eliza, As I'm sure you recall, our cousin Jack has been undertaking the peculiar task of collecting bits of thread for the past seven years, and I am grateful to you for your contribution of the clippings from your pantaloons, however I must report the tragic news that our dear cousin was crushed beneath his great ball of fibers this past Thursday. Do not grieve, as Jack prized your threads above all others and had little interest in anything save that hideous tangle. Had he not rejected my advances I would have happier news for you. Regretfully yours, Gertrude Stephen I loved Sally, though I couldn't understand why a model like her would be with a nerd like me. I told myself I would do anything to get a girl like her. That's why I didn't object when she squished the bug during sex. "It's what gets me off," she said. It had been so long, I didn't care. And at first, it was a little exciting. Then it was spiders. Centipedes. Mice. Birds. A hamster. When it was finally my own head squeezed under her stilleto heel, I realized I didn't really love her. It was only a crush. Anima “Once there was a little girl that did not like to go to bed. She’d do anything to stay up past her bedtime, even if it was only a few minutes extra. She’d turn the clocks forward, just a minute or two each day, so by the end of the week she would have a whole quarter of an hour more, all the sweeter because the time was stolen. Slowly the minutes accumulated into hours, the hours became days, and in the end, the little girl was crushed by all the time she had on her hands. Good night, sweetie” Zackmann Like the mailbox under the snowplow, like the Balikbayan Box marked Fragile, like the shellfish the bird hit with the rock, like rocks into cement, like the peanuts for my sandwich, like the bug under foot, like the corn under the grinding stone, like the grapes for the wine, like the oranges in the juice, like the flowers in the pages of the dictionary, like the olives for oil, like the garlic in the press, like the aloe vera for ointment, like the Mercedes in the bailer, like the acorn under the steamroller, like the whiskey rebellion, I am crushed. J Radimus He walked down the street in the rain, under the glow of the streetlights. The pain started just below his ribs under his left arm. It always was worse when the weather turned cold and wet. He thought for a moment that his brain must look like old wagon trails, the places where "why" happened all worn in with ruts from the constant traffic in those parts. Looking down, he saw that someone had left a single rose on the mat by the door. She had been here, while he was gone. He bent down to pick it up, reaching for it. Then he remembered. The bones had been too fragmented, the nerves too damaged. The doctors had fused the bones. He stared at his useless hand for a moment, then straightened. He stepped on the rose, grinding the petals and stem under his shoe. Then he fumbled for his keys with his good hand, and went inside. Jim He walked down the street in the rain, under the glow of the streetlights. The pain started just below his ribs under his left arm. It always was worse when the weather turned cold and wet. He thought for a moment that his brain must look like old wagon trails, the places where "why" happened all worn in with ruts from the constant traffic in those parts. Looking down, he saw that someone had left a single rose on the mat by the door. She had been here, while he was gone. He bent down to pick it up, reaching for it. Then he remembered. The bones had been too fragmented, the nerves too damaged. The doctors had fused the bones. He stared at his useless hand for a moment, then straightened. He stepped on the rose, grinding the petals and stem under his shoe. Then he fumbled for his keys with his good hand, and went inside. Norval Joe The disco ball continued to spin; spots of colored light whirled around the dance floor. Abba sang "Dancing Queen". Kevin lay, supine on the empty gymanasium floor. His midnight blue, crushed corduroy, three piece, suit soaked the blood as it poured from the bullet hole in his chest. The crowd rushed away from the sound of the gun to reveal the pistol where it was dropped among the confetti and crushed carnation corsages. Kevin's date rushed back to his side and knelt, crushed. All her hopes and plans were just destroyed. The after dance party would have to be canceled. TJ It could be a part of the wing in a 747. It could provide a key element in the housing for a lightweight, life-saving nanotechnology. It could just become another beer can, the materials for which we didn’t need to first invest the energy to dig up and refine. It’s a crushed, very old Pabst Blue Ribbon can at the side of the road. You can see where it used to be one of those pull-tab jobbers. It could still be any of those things, however. All that’s missing is for you to pick it up and turn it in. Guy David The crush test dummy looked pissed. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked indignantly. The tester just looked at him, blinking in disbelief. “You are not real” he said, “you can’t be real.” The dummy shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should teach you a little lesson” He said. Soon the tester found himself in a test car running at 150 MPH towards a wall. As he screamed the car crushed into the wall and two air bags opened, saving his life. “Oh - that looks like fun, let’s do this again” said the crush test dummy. Jeffrey Being crushed is no fun, ask Clark Kent. He was crushed by evil superman in Superman three. But really being crushed doesn't hold a candle to having your heart crushed. If you're really crushed, unless you a Clark Kent, there's an end in sight. If you get your heart crushed that's a different Story. Remember in junior high when you asked that girl to the dance and she dumped you right there. Had to explain where you date was to your dad. Then she had the gall to invite you to her birthday, expecting a good gift. Too much sharing Planet Z Crushed in a hydraulic press, the evil robot from the future reached out at his assassination target time and time again, barely missing her with each thrust of his powerful arm. “Must... terminate... you...” said the robot. Then, he stopped reaching, and his scary red eyes faded to darkness. His target, a bloodied and battered woman who would be the mother of the future resistance movement, sighed with relief. As she got up, the robot's arm grabbed her by the neck. “Fooled ya,” it said. Its fingers crushed her throat, and then tossed her corpse to the ground. Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-Two, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Crushed! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories of the week? Lynda Stephen Anima Zackmann J Radimus Jim Norval Joe TJ Guy David Jeffrey Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Lynda Dearest Eliza, As I'm sure you recall, our cousin Jack has been undertaking the peculiar task of collecting bits of thread for the past seven years, and I am grateful to you for your contribution of the clippings from your pantaloons, however I must report the tragic news that our dear cousin was crushed beneath his great ball of fibers this past Thursday. Do not grieve, as Jack prized your threads above all others and had little interest in anything save that hideous tangle. Had he not rejected my advances I would have happier news for you. Regretfully yours, Gertrude Stephen I loved Sally, though I couldn't understand why a model like her would be with a nerd like me. I told myself I would do anything to get a girl like her. That's why I didn't object when she squished the bug during sex. "It's what gets me off," she said. It had been so long, I didn't care. And at first, it was a little exciting. Then it was spiders. Centipedes. Mice. Birds. A hamster. When it was finally my own head squeezed under her stilleto heel, I realized I didn't really love her. It was only a crush. Anima “Once there was a little girl that did not like to go to bed. She’d do anything to stay up past her bedtime, even if it was only a few minutes extra. She’d turn the clocks forward, just a minute or two each day, so by the end of the week she would have a whole quarter of an hour more, all the sweeter because the time was stolen. Slowly the minutes accumulated into hours, the hours became days, and in the end, the little girl was crushed by all the time she had on her hands. Good night, sweetie” Zackmann Like the mailbox under the snowplow, like the Balikbayan Box marked Fragile, like the shellfish the bird hit with the rock, like rocks into cement, like the peanuts for my sandwich, like the bug under foot, like the corn under the grinding stone, like the grapes for the wine, like the oranges in the juice, like the flowers in the pages of the dictionary, like the olives for oil, like the garlic in the press, like the aloe vera for ointment, like the Mercedes in the bailer, like the acorn under the steamroller, like the whiskey rebellion, I am crushed. J Radimus He walked down the street in the rain, under the glow of the streetlights. The pain started just below his ribs under his left arm. It always was worse when the weather turned cold and wet. He thought for a moment that his brain must look like old wagon trails, the places where "why" happened all worn in with ruts from the constant traffic in those parts. Looking down, he saw that someone had left a single rose on the mat by the door. She had been here, while he was gone. He bent down to pick it up, reaching for it. Then he remembered. The bones had been too fragmented, the nerves too damaged. The doctors had fused the bones. He stared at his useless hand for a moment, then straightened. He stepped on the rose, grinding the petals and stem under his shoe. Then he fumbled for his keys with his good hand, and went inside. Jim He walked down the street in the rain, under the glow of the streetlights. The pain started just below his ribs under his left arm. It always was worse when the weather turned cold and wet. He thought for a moment that his brain must look like old wagon trails, the places where "why" happened all worn in with ruts from the constant traffic in those parts. Looking down, he saw that someone had left a single rose on the mat by the door. She had been here, while he was gone. He bent down to pick it up, reaching for it. Then he remembered. The bones had been too fragmented, the nerves too damaged. The doctors had fused the bones. He stared at his useless hand for a moment, then straightened. He stepped on the rose, grinding the petals and stem under his shoe. Then he fumbled for his keys with his good hand, and went inside. Norval Joe The disco ball continued to spin; spots of colored light whirled around the dance floor. Abba sang "Dancing Queen". Kevin lay, supine on the empty gymanasium floor. His midnight blue, crushed corduroy, three piece, suit soaked the blood as it poured from the bullet hole in his chest. The crowd rushed away from the sound of the gun to reveal the pistol where it was dropped among the confetti and crushed carnation corsages. Kevin's date rushed back to his side and knelt, crushed. All her hopes and plans were just destroyed. The after dance party would have to be canceled. TJ It could be a part of the wing in a 747. It could provide a key element in the housing for a lightweight, life-saving nanotechnology. It could just become another beer can, the materials for which we didn’t need to first invest the energy to dig up and refine. It’s a crushed, very old Pabst Blue Ribbon can at the side of the road. You can see where it used to be one of those pull-tab jobbers. It could still be any of those things, however. All that’s missing is for you to pick it up and turn it in. Guy David The crush test dummy looked pissed. “Are you trying to kill me?” he asked indignantly. The tester just looked at him, blinking in disbelief. “You are not real” he said, “you can’t be real.” The dummy shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Maybe I should teach you a little lesson” He said. Soon the tester found himself in a test car running at 150 MPH towards a wall. As he screamed the car crushed into the wall and two air bags opened, saving his life. “Oh - that looks like fun, let’s do this again” said the crush test dummy. Jeffrey Being crushed is no fun, ask Clark Kent. He was crushed by evil superman in Superman three. But really being crushed doesn't hold a candle to having your heart crushed. If you're really crushed, unless you a Clark Kent, there's an end in sight. If you get your heart crushed that's a different Story. Remember in junior high when you asked that girl to the dance and she dumped you right there. Had to explain where you date was to your dad. Then she had the gall to invite you to her birthday, expecting a good gift. Too much sharing Planet Z Crushed in a hydraulic press, the evil robot from the future reached out at his assassination target time and time again, barely missing her with each thrust of his powerful arm. “Must... terminate... you...” said the robot. Then, he stopped reaching, and his scary red eyes faded to darkness. His target, a bloodied and battered woman who would be the mother of the future resistance movement, sighed with relief. As she got up, the robot's arm grabbed her by the neck. “Fooled ya,” it said. Its fingers crushed her throat, and then tossed her corpse to the ground. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-17,25303053 Sat, 17 Oct 2009 12:26:02 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25296927-Airport-Security It's a long way to the big city and their airport, so we built ourselves an airport right here. Sure, we don't own no planes, but them government folks offered up a bunch of money for airport security, so we built us an airport. All it took was paving up Carter Road long enough to land a plane. Old Man Murphy's hog farm is what we call a terminal, barn's the hangar. The security money pays for a lot of whiskey. You can find Murphy on the road, yelling at his pigs to clear the runway. Reckon they'll ever fly? It's a long way to the big city and their airport, so we built ourselves an airport right here. Sure, we don't own no planes, but them government folks offered up a bunch of money for airport security, so we built us an airport. All it took was paving up Carter Road long enough to land a plane. Old Man Murphy's hog farm is what we call a terminal, barn's the hangar. The security money pays for a lot of whiskey. You can find Murphy on the road, yelling at his pigs to clear the runway. Reckon they'll ever fly? It's a long way to the big city and their airport, so we built ourselves an airport right here. Sure, we don't own no planes, but them government folks offered up a bunch of money for airport security, so we built us an airport. All it took was paving up Carter Road long enough to land a plane. Old Man Murphy's hog farm is what we call a terminal, barn's the hangar. The security money pays for a lot of whiskey. You can find Murphy on the road, yelling at his pigs to clear the runway. Reckon they'll ever fly? tag:odeo.com,2009-10-16,25296927 Fri, 16 Oct 2009 08:25:45 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25290318-The-Forgotten-Birthday When a school is named after someone famous, the staff usually goads the students into some kind of birthday celebration to commemorate all the things that person did for society. However, when that birthday falls on a holiday like Christmas or comes up during the summertime, it usually passes unobserved. Not on my watch. When I was named principal of this school, I took on a sacred oath. Yes, he was born on the Fourth of July. Fireworks, right? Wrong. The city hosts the fireworks display elsewhere. I will do them here, at Yankee Doodle Dandy Elementary, do or die. Topic by Lynette Radio. When a school is named after someone famous, the staff usually goads the students into some kind of birthday celebration to commemorate all the things that person did for society. However, when that birthday falls on a holiday like Christmas or comes up during the summertime, it usually passes unobserved. Not on my watch. When I was named principal of this school, I took on a sacred oath. Yes, he was born on the Fourth of July. Fireworks, right? Wrong. The city hosts the fireworks display elsewhere. I will do them here, at Yankee Doodle Dandy Elementary, do or die. Topic by Lynette Radio. When a school is named after someone famous, the staff usually goads the students into some kind of birthday celebration to commemorate all the things that person did for society. However, when that birthday falls on a holiday like Christmas or comes up during the summertime, it usually passes unobserved. Not on my watch. When I was named principal of this school, I took on a sacred oath. Yes, he was born on the Fourth of July. Fireworks, right? Wrong. The city hosts the fireworks display elsewhere. I will do them here, at Yankee Doodle Dandy Elementary, do or die. Topic by Lynette Radio. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-15,25290318 Thu, 15 Oct 2009 08:09:10 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25284435-Losing-Faith His Holiness woke up after surgery to find himself watched by his assistant. "We prayed for your recovery," said his secretary. "We are delighted that The Lord has seen fit to deliver you back to us." The Pope raised an eyebrow. "It was the doctors, not The Lord," he said tersely. The assistant left the room to speak to the lead surgeon. "I fear you cut too deep," he said. The surgeon agreed. "That region of the brain is strongly tied to Faith. Damage can result in this behavior." "Or death," suggested the assistant. "Make it painless and quick, please." Suggested by Jim Nicholson. His Holiness woke up after surgery to find himself watched by his assistant. "We prayed for your recovery," said his secretary. "We are delighted that The Lord has seen fit to deliver you back to us." The Pope raised an eyebrow. "It was the doctors, not The Lord," he said tersely. The assistant left the room to speak to the lead surgeon. "I fear you cut too deep," he said. The surgeon agreed. "That region of the brain is strongly tied to Faith. Damage can result in this behavior." "Or death," suggested the assistant. "Make it painless and quick, please." Suggested by Jim Nicholson. His Holiness woke up after surgery to find himself watched by his assistant. "We prayed for your recovery," said his secretary. "We are delighted that The Lord has seen fit to deliver you back to us." The Pope raised an eyebrow. "It was the doctors, not The Lord," he said tersely. The assistant left the room to speak to the lead surgeon. "I fear you cut too deep," he said. The surgeon agreed. "That region of the brain is strongly tied to Faith. Damage can result in this behavior." "Or death," suggested the assistant. "Make it painless and quick, please." Suggested by Jim Nicholson. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-14,25284435 Wed, 14 Oct 2009 08:00:31 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25279103-Bigfoot Deep in the woods, Bigfoot sits on a rock and stares at his humongous feet. Exhausted from the constant chase by photographers and scientists, he pondered the meaning of life. "Pedicure," he growls. A branch snaps. Bigfoot crawls under a fallen tree trunk. The leaves rustle, and then a deer approaches. Bigfoot sighs. Is he paranoid? Is everything a potential threat now? "Zoloft," he grumbles. He shakes dandruff from his fur, ponders using a sharp rock to shave it off, join a circus as a giant, or play basketball. Do they make shoes his size? Another branch snaps. He hides. Topic from Chris Carlisle. Deep in the woods, Bigfoot sits on a rock and stares at his humongous feet. Exhausted from the constant chase by photographers and scientists, he pondered the meaning of life. "Pedicure," he growls. A branch snaps. Bigfoot crawls under a fallen tree trunk. The leaves rustle, and then a deer approaches. Bigfoot sighs. Is he paranoid? Is everything a potential threat now? "Zoloft," he grumbles. He shakes dandruff from his fur, ponders using a sharp rock to shave it off, join a circus as a giant, or play basketball. Do they make shoes his size? Another branch snaps. He hides. Topic from Chris Carlisle. Deep in the woods, Bigfoot sits on a rock and stares at his humongous feet. Exhausted from the constant chase by photographers and scientists, he pondered the meaning of life. "Pedicure," he growls. A branch snaps. Bigfoot crawls under a fallen tree trunk. The leaves rustle, and then a deer approaches. Bigfoot sighs. Is he paranoid? Is everything a potential threat now? "Zoloft," he grumbles. He shakes dandruff from his fur, ponders using a sharp rock to shave it off, join a circus as a giant, or play basketball. Do they make shoes his size? Another branch snaps. He hides. Topic from Chris Carlisle. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-13,25279103 Tue, 13 Oct 2009 07:36:36 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25276657-The-Returning-Snow I watch the weather reports. The first snow will be coming. I doesn't tempt me, though. That first snow never lasts. I'll wait for when the snow builds up and doesn't just melt away the next day. There's no sport in the bodies showing up so quickly. No challenge. I'll wait. In the meantime, I'll check the engine in the snowblower and check the oil. I'll wipe down the walls in the basement again. Last year was a light year, certainly, but it doesn't mean it's any less messy down there. It's the least I can do for my guests. I watch the weather reports. The first snow will be coming. I doesn't tempt me, though. That first snow never lasts. I'll wait for when the snow builds up and doesn't just melt away the next day. There's no sport in the bodies showing up so quickly. No challenge. I'll wait. In the meantime, I'll check the engine in the snowblower and check the oil. I'll wipe down the walls in the basement again. Last year was a light year, certainly, but it doesn't mean it's any less messy down there. It's the least I can do for my guests. I watch the weather reports. The first snow will be coming. I doesn't tempt me, though. That first snow never lasts. I'll wait for when the snow builds up and doesn't just melt away the next day. There's no sport in the bodies showing up so quickly. No challenge. I'll wait. In the meantime, I'll check the engine in the snowblower and check the oil. I'll wipe down the walls in the basement again. Last year was a light year, certainly, but it doesn't mean it's any less messy down there. It's the least I can do for my guests. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-12,25276657 Mon, 12 Oct 2009 07:26:41 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25276658-Dunk Ever since the Chicago Bears dumped a Gatorade jug over Mike Ditka's head to celebrate their first championship since 1963, it's been a tradition in football to upend your sports performance drink over your coach to celebrate a victory. Every so often, a joker will fill the jug with ice so it's a really cold shower for the winning coach. It was a cold game in Green Bay that brought on a new twist: a trainer had provided an extra jug of hot chicken soup to warm players during the bone-chilling subzero chill. The coach was not screaming in joy. Ever since the Chicago Bears dumped a Gatorade jug over Mike Ditka's head to celebrate their first championship since 1963, it's been a tradition in football to upend your sports performance drink over your coach to celebrate a victory. Every so often, a joker will fill the jug with ice so it's a really cold shower for the winning coach. It was a cold game in Green Bay that brought on a new twist: a trainer had provided an extra jug of hot chicken soup to warm players during the bone-chilling subzero chill. The coach was not screaming in joy. Ever since the Chicago Bears dumped a Gatorade jug over Mike Ditka's head to celebrate their first championship since 1963, it's been a tradition in football to upend your sports performance drink over your coach to celebrate a victory. Every so often, a joker will fill the jug with ice so it's a really cold shower for the winning coach. It was a cold game in Green Bay that brought on a new twist: a trainer had provided an extra jug of hot chicken soup to warm players during the bone-chilling subzero chill. The coach was not screaming in joy. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-11,25276658 Sun, 11 Oct 2009 16:06:20 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25264875-Weekly-Challenge-182-Crushed The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Josh. And the topic is Crushed. You have until midnight on Friday October 16 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #183 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the sto... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Josh. And the topic is Crushed. You have until midnight on Friday October 16 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #183 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 182 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week, the winner was Josh. And the topic is Crushed. You have until midnight on Friday October 16 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #183 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 182 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-10,25264875 Sat, 10 Oct 2009 16:41:01 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25264876-Weekly-Challenge-181-Forty Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-One, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Forty! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Josh Eva Cary ChestMutt Stephen Anima John W. Brad Almo Guy David Basrai Lynda Justin Norval Joe Ishtar 1 Ishtar 2 TJ JRaqdimus Dedric Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Josh Joey plunged the hotdog into the water and watched it expand before pulling it out and cramming it into his already full mouth. Chewing furiously he imagined himself a viking destroying his enemy, piercing through soggy armor and rubbery flesh with spear-like incisors. He fought only to kill. To send his opponent like its twenty-seven brethren before it, to the bowels of hell. Joey grabbed the cup an... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-One, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Forty! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Josh Eva Cary ChestMutt Stephen Anima John W. Brad Almo Guy David Basrai Lynda Justin Norval Joe Ishtar 1 Ishtar 2 TJ JRaqdimus Dedric Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Josh Joey plunged the hotdog into the water and watched it expand before pulling it out and cramming it into his already full mouth. Chewing furiously he imagined himself a viking destroying his enemy, piercing through soggy armor and rubbery flesh with spear-like incisors. He fought only to kill. To send his opponent like its twenty-seven brethren before it, to the bowels of hell. Joey grabbed the cup and pulled deep, not minding the soggy chunks of bread collecting on his lips before slamming it back down. He braced himself for the melee of approaching challengers . Only forty more to go. Eva Moon Amir stifled a groan of discomfort and shifted his aching bones as much as he could in the cramped quarters, but it provided little relief. How long must I wait? He settled his shoulders against the rough ceramic and occupied his mind with thoughts of how he would spend his share of the loot. Even split forty ways with the other thieves, it would still be enough to make a comfortable life for a frugal man. At last he heard the shuffle of bare feet outside his hiding place and the sound of the clay lid above his head being slid aside. The last thing he knew was the smell of hot oil. Cary Birthday candles blazing, Pintu leaned over the cake with his ears pinned back, to prevent them from singeing. As he took a deep breath grandpa shouted out “how many is that now?!” Pintu held the captive air. From the opposite side of the room Grandma returned even louder “5”! Pintu still waiting, his little cheeks bulging. Grandpa responded “If he’s 5 then I’m forty!” “Death plus forty!” Grandma shouted over the huddled crowd. “You would know!” yelled back Grandpa. Pintu still hovering over the flaming cake, only his eyes following the volleys. His cheeks turning a patient shade of blue. ChestMutt The night was dark and spooky as the kids walked through the woods. All they wanted was a silly scare, but now, in the forty degree weather, all they wanted was home. The fall festival was a hit for them, and they gathered as much candy and food as possible. The sugar rush they were now on made them easily convinced to go through the thick trees in search for the ghostly creature that hid among them. Somewhere, a tree branch snapped, sending them into a sudden panic as they turned and ran the ten feet out into the clearing. Stephen In this world, lawyers are real predators. Feral copyright attorneys hunt the streets. Outside, a patent infringer's gunship ravages a corporate skyscraper. The building rumbles, preparing to launch into low orbit. I shake my head. The scene fades as I toss the paper - my fortieth attempt at a believable world - into the wastebin. I write again, and the world fills in around me. Giant insects buzz, a velociraptor screeches, and I quickly throw that paper aside. I pick up my pen again. This time, I write you. Your world, your cities, your people. I'm not sure if I like it. Anima "If you'd paid Big Louie on time, I wouldn't have to come visit. Why would a sweet old granny like to bet that kind of money on the fights anyway? You just don't look the type. What's that? Hold on, I'm gonna pull of the tape now..." "It's not me you want, you goon! I'm Joan Smith, not John Smith!" "You aren't John Smith, Apartment 4D?" "No! he's in 4T!" "Eh. Benny, let go the old lady... and remind me to get a new cel phone in the morning, you can't understand a thing anybody says on this..." John W. Red and blue lights flashed behind me. I pulled over, rolled down my window and placed my hands on the steering wheel. When the officer approached I could see my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. He spoke in a calm yet firm tone, “Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?” I didn’t answer. I knew why. “Sir, you were doing 87 mph in a 40 mph zone,” he said. Still I did not answer. He looked in the back seat and said to me, “Follow me, sir.” We raced off together to the hospital, my wife in labor. Brad Once upon a time there lived a bewitched princess that had been asleep for 40 years. Her queenly mother prayed for a hero to come and break the spell. Her mother’s prayers were answered when a valiant 40 year old prince with gold mail and super fast horse fought his way past dragons and swamp monsters and stuff like that to get to her and wake her with a kiss. But then he realized that she was 18 when she fell asleep and that would make her 58 so he passed and married a 22 year old duchess from Notlob. Almo Peter slipped on the wet, muddy floor, then slipped heavily on something else. "Shit!" he said, an interjection and a description. He cleaned himself up, cursed the cow, and began mucking out the pen. He looked uncertainly at the hay, which would mildew if they couldn't figure out a way to dry it out soon. He caught a movement out of the corner his eye. His father. Peter's frustration boiled over. "Look," he yelled at Noah. "It's been 39 days of the same thing!" Peter glanced at the cow. "If this rain lasts forty days, It's burger time, baby!" Guy David Forty butterflies are dancing on my grave. Forty red flowers are arranged in a circle on the cold stone. Forty paid maidens are weeping for me. I scream “I’m alive, I’m still alive, let me out,” but no one hears. The earth tastes sweet in my mouth. I sob. I’ve been here for forty thousand years. Still there’s no sign of me becoming hungry or tired, forever doomed under a spell to stay alive in my grave, counting eternity. The walls of my grave disintegrated long ago. I’m now part of the soil. I’ll stay here forever. It’s my destiny. Basrai She asked, with her broken English: “Today, for tea, bring beef home.” “Beef, for tea?” She smiled broadly: “For tea, today.” “You’re not kidding.” I gasped. “For tea. You don’t know?” I shook my head. That was the price for entering into a crossed-culture marriage. Your digestive system would, sooner or later, be compromised by strange customs. I imagined the slice of beef floating darkly in the sweet, aromatic Indian tea. She called it tchai. “I am not drinking tea with beef, especially on my husband’s fortieth birthday. Please.” “Forty. Your husband forty. I cook good. Not beef with tea.” Lynda Come one, come all, gather 'round and see the clockwork kid, the wonder of the modern age! Built by robots on a faraway island forty years ago, a group of opportunistic pirates couldn't let a good thing go to waste so they brought him here, to entertain you! Wind him up and he'll weave you a unique tale guaranteed to blow your mind! You’ll be dazzled by his wit! You’ll marvel as he interacts with the fiercest of jungle cats! You’ll drool over his delicious bread! Run, don’t walk! Don't even wait for the bus! Witness the magnificent clockwork kid! Justin The weary dung beetle pushed upwards. Rail fell, it pushed. Snow covered the ground, onward to pushed. Food was scarce, yet it pushed upwards still. Jobs came and went, hurricanes and sickness, but still, the dung beetle pushed up, higher and higher up the hill. Many years passed, as did friends and family. How long will can the beetle go on? Wait, there, is that the top of the hill? Just a little bit further now. Forty years the beetle toiled, pushing the turd uphill and now, with a final heave, the crap started going downhill. Happy birthday Laurence Simon. Norval Joe "Ok, you were right about the rain, only forty days and nights and we're afloat. So maybe God is talking to you. But what's with the sheep? You bring two of each of the other animals, why so many damn sheep? And why do we need to keep them in our bedroom? I know, I know, the whole arc is crowded and they did made good pillows at first, but there's sheep crap everywhere. I'm not putting up with sheep for another day, let alone forty. You better do something about them or you and the sheep are going overboard." Ishtar 1 40 feet till I can be free. My body can feel it, muscles loosening, The skin slightly sweating in anticipation, a smile on my lips. Why am I reacting like this? It’s Friday afternoon. The end of the work week. All I can think about is the Freedom of what I am about to do. 20 feet till I can be free. My Coworkers tell me goodbye, little do they know it will be. They try to stop me, ask questions. Reports, forms, evaluations, baaaah. Can’t they see it all means nothing? Ishtar 2 Eyes follow my movements, no one can figure out why I am so happy. I’m standing in the courtyard at work, surrounded by my coworkers. Gods they think I’m flipping out. I smile at them and ask them to wait a moment. I can explain everything. I slowly unbutton my blouse; light is shining from my eyes. I can feel the skin of my back ripping away. The crowd goes silent. In that instant, I feel the ultimate freedom. I’m hovering 10 feet up. My body has changed, fire on my skin, dragon wings, oh the freedom of flight. TJ It’s been 40 years, so go out! Celebrate! Even if you spend the entire day inside, however, the very rotation of the planet carries you about 17,600 miles. This is about 6.4 million miles in a year and nearly 257 million miles in 40 years. Forty trips around the sun have net you an additional tour of some 23.5 billion miles through the solar system. In that time, the sun has traveled approximately 173 quadrillion miles around the galaxy -- at whatever endlessly relative speed that’s moving through the universe. So seriously, if it's your 40th birthday? Relax. You've earned it. JRadimus "" Forty “Today’s forecast calls for unseasonably wintry weather, with a chance of freezing rain before sunrise and after sunset, mostly cloudy all day, with a high of 40.” “Thanks for the reminder.” - “Ma’am, Do you know how fast you were going?” “No.” “You were doing 40 in a 20. I can’t ignore that.” “Yes, Officer…I’m sorry.” “I’m still gonna write the ticket, ma’am.” She sighed. - “That was some cut. How’d it happen?” “I dropped a vase and missed; I cut my hand and foot on the glass.” “Well, you’ll be fine, now. Forty stitches, though.” “Thanks.” Some birthday. Guess which one? "" Dedric Each day the programmer goes for a walk around a pond to relax. He sees a man playing a flute. It echoes over the water and fills his ears with musical joy. A gathering of large fish are often seen swimming close to the man playing the flute. Ideas fill his head about a fairy from the woods that turned his wife into a fish, and that he plays only to lure his lost love back to him. It is a silly story without an end or a purpose. After forty minutes, the programmer returns to a life of stress. Planet Z The last thing Michael remembered was a warning to drink plenty of fluids and rest. He woke up feeling great... forty years later. He screamed. “Your chart says you drank an herbal remedy,” said a face on a floating monitor. White nurse-robots floated around it, going in and out of Michael's vision. Michael tried to remember. His roommate was reading a thick leatherbound book he said once belonged to his great-grandmother. “Cures everything,” he had said. “Where is that asshole?” said Michael to the screen. He heard a yawn from the next bed over. And a scream. Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty-One, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Forty! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Josh Eva Cary ChestMutt Stephen Anima John W. Brad Almo Guy David Basrai Lynda Justin Norval Joe Ishtar 1 Ishtar 2 TJ JRaqdimus Dedric Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Josh Joey plunged the hotdog into the water and watched it expand before pulling it out and cramming it into his already full mouth. Chewing furiously he imagined himself a viking destroying his enemy, piercing through soggy armor and rubbery flesh with spear-like incisors. He fought only to kill. To send his opponent like its twenty-seven brethren before it, to the bowels of hell. Joey grabbed the cup and pulled deep, not minding the soggy chunks of bread collecting on his lips before slamming it back down. He braced himself for the melee of approaching challengers . Only forty more to go. Eva Moon Amir stifled a groan of discomfort and shifted his aching bones as much as he could in the cramped quarters, but it provided little relief. How long must I wait? He settled his shoulders against the rough ceramic and occupied his mind with thoughts of how he would spend his share of the loot. Even split forty ways with the other thieves, it would still be enough to make a comfortable life for a frugal man. At last he heard the shuffle of bare feet outside his hiding place and the sound of the clay lid above his head being slid aside. The last thing he knew was the smell of hot oil. Cary Birthday candles blazing, Pintu leaned over the cake with his ears pinned back, to prevent them from singeing. As he took a deep breath grandpa shouted out “how many is that now?!” Pintu held the captive air. From the opposite side of the room Grandma returned even louder “5”! Pintu still waiting, his little cheeks bulging. Grandpa responded “If he’s 5 then I’m forty!” “Death plus forty!” Grandma shouted over the huddled crowd. “You would know!” yelled back Grandpa. Pintu still hovering over the flaming cake, only his eyes following the volleys. His cheeks turning a patient shade of blue. ChestMutt The night was dark and spooky as the kids walked through the woods. All they wanted was a silly scare, but now, in the forty degree weather, all they wanted was home. The fall festival was a hit for them, and they gathered as much candy and food as possible. The sugar rush they were now on made them easily convinced to go through the thick trees in search for the ghostly creature that hid among them. Somewhere, a tree branch snapped, sending them into a sudden panic as they turned and ran the ten feet out into the clearing. Stephen In this world, lawyers are real predators. Feral copyright attorneys hunt the streets. Outside, a patent infringer's gunship ravages a corporate skyscraper. The building rumbles, preparing to launch into low orbit. I shake my head. The scene fades as I toss the paper - my fortieth attempt at a believable world - into the wastebin. I write again, and the world fills in around me. Giant insects buzz, a velociraptor screeches, and I quickly throw that paper aside. I pick up my pen again. This time, I write you. Your world, your cities, your people. I'm not sure if I like it. Anima "If you'd paid Big Louie on time, I wouldn't have to come visit. Why would a sweet old granny like to bet that kind of money on the fights anyway? You just don't look the type. What's that? Hold on, I'm gonna pull of the tape now..." "It's not me you want, you goon! I'm Joan Smith, not John Smith!" "You aren't John Smith, Apartment 4D?" "No! he's in 4T!" "Eh. Benny, let go the old lady... and remind me to get a new cel phone in the morning, you can't understand a thing anybody says on this..." John W. Red and blue lights flashed behind me. I pulled over, rolled down my window and placed my hands on the steering wheel. When the officer approached I could see my reflection in his mirrored sunglasses. He spoke in a calm yet firm tone, “Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?” I didn’t answer. I knew why. “Sir, you were doing 87 mph in a 40 mph zone,” he said. Still I did not answer. He looked in the back seat and said to me, “Follow me, sir.” We raced off together to the hospital, my wife in labor. Brad Once upon a time there lived a bewitched princess that had been asleep for 40 years. Her queenly mother prayed for a hero to come and break the spell. Her mother’s prayers were answered when a valiant 40 year old prince with gold mail and super fast horse fought his way past dragons and swamp monsters and stuff like that to get to her and wake her with a kiss. But then he realized that she was 18 when she fell asleep and that would make her 58 so he passed and married a 22 year old duchess from Notlob. Almo Peter slipped on the wet, muddy floor, then slipped heavily on something else. "Shit!" he said, an interjection and a description. He cleaned himself up, cursed the cow, and began mucking out the pen. He looked uncertainly at the hay, which would mildew if they couldn't figure out a way to dry it out soon. He caught a movement out of the corner his eye. His father. Peter's frustration boiled over. "Look," he yelled at Noah. "It's been 39 days of the same thing!" Peter glanced at the cow. "If this rain lasts forty days, It's burger time, baby!" Guy David Forty butterflies are dancing on my grave. Forty red flowers are arranged in a circle on the cold stone. Forty paid maidens are weeping for me. I scream “I’m alive, I’m still alive, let me out,” but no one hears. The earth tastes sweet in my mouth. I sob. I’ve been here for forty thousand years. Still there’s no sign of me becoming hungry or tired, forever doomed under a spell to stay alive in my grave, counting eternity. The walls of my grave disintegrated long ago. I’m now part of the soil. I’ll stay here forever. It’s my destiny. Basrai She asked, with her broken English: “Today, for tea, bring beef home.” “Beef, for tea?” She smiled broadly: “For tea, today.” “You’re not kidding.” I gasped. “For tea. You don’t know?” I shook my head. That was the price for entering into a crossed-culture marriage. Your digestive system would, sooner or later, be compromised by strange customs. I imagined the slice of beef floating darkly in the sweet, aromatic Indian tea. She called it tchai. “I am not drinking tea with beef, especially on my husband’s fortieth birthday. Please.” “Forty. Your husband forty. I cook good. Not beef with tea.” Lynda Come one, come all, gather 'round and see the clockwork kid, the wonder of the modern age! Built by robots on a faraway island forty years ago, a group of opportunistic pirates couldn't let a good thing go to waste so they brought him here, to entertain you! Wind him up and he'll weave you a unique tale guaranteed to blow your mind! You’ll be dazzled by his wit! You’ll marvel as he interacts with the fiercest of jungle cats! You’ll drool over his delicious bread! Run, don’t walk! Don't even wait for the bus! Witness the magnificent clockwork kid! Justin The weary dung beetle pushed upwards. Rail fell, it pushed. Snow covered the ground, onward to pushed. Food was scarce, yet it pushed upwards still. Jobs came and went, hurricanes and sickness, but still, the dung beetle pushed up, higher and higher up the hill. Many years passed, as did friends and family. How long will can the beetle go on? Wait, there, is that the top of the hill? Just a little bit further now. Forty years the beetle toiled, pushing the turd uphill and now, with a final heave, the crap started going downhill. Happy birthday Laurence Simon. Norval Joe "Ok, you were right about the rain, only forty days and nights and we're afloat. So maybe God is talking to you. But what's with the sheep? You bring two of each of the other animals, why so many damn sheep? And why do we need to keep them in our bedroom? I know, I know, the whole arc is crowded and they did made good pillows at first, but there's sheep crap everywhere. I'm not putting up with sheep for another day, let alone forty. You better do something about them or you and the sheep are going overboard." Ishtar 1 40 feet till I can be free. My body can feel it, muscles loosening, The skin slightly sweating in anticipation, a smile on my lips. Why am I reacting like this? It’s Friday afternoon. The end of the work week. All I can think about is the Freedom of what I am about to do. 20 feet till I can be free. My Coworkers tell me goodbye, little do they know it will be. They try to stop me, ask questions. Reports, forms, evaluations, baaaah. Can’t they see it all means nothing? Ishtar 2 Eyes follow my movements, no one can figure out why I am so happy. I’m standing in the courtyard at work, surrounded by my coworkers. Gods they think I’m flipping out. I smile at them and ask them to wait a moment. I can explain everything. I slowly unbutton my blouse; light is shining from my eyes. I can feel the skin of my back ripping away. The crowd goes silent. In that instant, I feel the ultimate freedom. I’m hovering 10 feet up. My body has changed, fire on my skin, dragon wings, oh the freedom of flight. TJ It’s been 40 years, so go out! Celebrate! Even if you spend the entire day inside, however, the very rotation of the planet carries you about 17,600 miles. This is about 6.4 million miles in a year and nearly 257 million miles in 40 years. Forty trips around the sun have net you an additional tour of some 23.5 billion miles through the solar system. In that time, the sun has traveled approximately 173 quadrillion miles around the galaxy -- at whatever endlessly relative speed that’s moving through the universe. So seriously, if it's your 40th birthday? Relax. You've earned it. JRadimus "" Forty “Today’s forecast calls for unseasonably wintry weather, with a chance of freezing rain before sunrise and after sunset, mostly cloudy all day, with a high of 40.” “Thanks for the reminder.” - “Ma’am, Do you know how fast you were going?” “No.” “You were doing 40 in a 20. I can’t ignore that.” “Yes, Officer…I’m sorry.” “I’m still gonna write the ticket, ma’am.” She sighed. - “That was some cut. How’d it happen?” “I dropped a vase and missed; I cut my hand and foot on the glass.” “Well, you’ll be fine, now. Forty stitches, though.” “Thanks.” Some birthday. Guess which one? "" Dedric Each day the programmer goes for a walk around a pond to relax. He sees a man playing a flute. It echoes over the water and fills his ears with musical joy. A gathering of large fish are often seen swimming close to the man playing the flute. Ideas fill his head about a fairy from the woods that turned his wife into a fish, and that he plays only to lure his lost love back to him. It is a silly story without an end or a purpose. After forty minutes, the programmer returns to a life of stress. Planet Z The last thing Michael remembered was a warning to drink plenty of fluids and rest. He woke up feeling great... forty years later. He screamed. “Your chart says you drank an herbal remedy,” said a face on a floating monitor. White nurse-robots floated around it, going in and out of Michael's vision. Michael tried to remember. His roommate was reading a thick leatherbound book he said once belonged to his great-grandmother. “Cures everything,” he had said. “Where is that asshole?” said Michael to the screen. He heard a yawn from the next bed over. And a scream. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-10,25264876 Sat, 10 Oct 2009 07:37:48 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25264877-Cloak-And-Dagger All she wore was a cloak and a dagger. The CIA Recruiting Officer shook his head and pointed at the door. “What's wrong?” the rejected candidate said with a whine. “It's not literally cloak-and-dagger,” said the officer. “It's just a saying.” “Fine,” she said. She put down the dagger and took off the cloak. “What kind of job can I get with this?” The officer checked a telephone directory and dialed. After a few minutes, he smiled and unfolded a map. “The White House is marked with a red X,” he said. “Good luck.” All she wore was a cloak and a dagger. The CIA Recruiting Officer shook his head and pointed at the door. “What's wrong?” the rejected candidate said with a whine. “It's not literally cloak-and-dagger,” said the officer. “It's just a saying.” “Fine,” she said. She put down the dagger and took off the cloak. “What kind of job can I get with this?” The officer checked a telephone directory and dialed. After a few minutes, he smiled and unfolded a map. “The White House is marked with a red X,” he said. “Good luck.” All she wore was a cloak and a dagger. The CIA Recruiting Officer shook his head and pointed at the door. “What's wrong?” the rejected candidate said with a whine. “It's not literally cloak-and-dagger,” said the officer. “It's just a saying.” “Fine,” she said. She put down the dagger and took off the cloak. “What kind of job can I get with this?” The officer checked a telephone directory and dialed. After a few minutes, he smiled and unfolded a map. “The White House is marked with a red X,” he said. “Good luck.” tag:odeo.com,2009-10-09,25264877 Fri, 09 Oct 2009 18:28:25 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25259796-The-Butterfly I told Lucy not to get a tattoo, but she did. A pink butterfly on her ankle. Sometimes, it is on her right ankle. Other times, her left. I've watched her sleep and the butterfly flapping around her bedroom. When she wakes up, it lands and melts into her skin. Today, it's on her wrist. “I'm thinking about getting another,” she says. I told her not to, but she did. Another butterfly. Blue this time. They fly together at night, circling. I rub my arm, where the flaming skull once was. Sure, laser-removal surgery worked. But it still burns. I told Lucy not to get a tattoo, but she did. A pink butterfly on her ankle. Sometimes, it is on her right ankle. Other times, her left. I've watched her sleep and the butterfly flapping around her bedroom. When she wakes up, it lands and melts into her skin. Today, it's on her wrist. “I'm thinking about getting another,” she says. I told her not to, but she did. Another butterfly. Blue this time. They fly together at night, circling. I rub my arm, where the flaming skull once was. Sure, laser-removal surgery worked. But it still burns. I told Lucy not to get a tattoo, but she did. A pink butterfly on her ankle. Sometimes, it is on her right ankle. Other times, her left. I've watched her sleep and the butterfly flapping around her bedroom. When she wakes up, it lands and melts into her skin. Today, it's on her wrist. “I'm thinking about getting another,” she says. I told her not to, but she did. Another butterfly. Blue this time. They fly together at night, circling. I rub my arm, where the flaming skull once was. Sure, laser-removal surgery worked. But it still burns. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-08,25259796 Thu, 08 Oct 2009 19:38:00 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25252666-Victory-Square No more bombers. Silence. We walk to the center of town, stepping over bodies and fallen streetlamps. Collapsed buildings line the path. More bodies in the park, trees with shattered leaves. "Victory Square" says a monument, half of a horse. Where is the rest of it? Where is the rider? "Centaur," says my guide. "Nikos The Wise." He tries to tell me the story of the centaur, but it's just gibberish. We've come across no other survivors. So I pull out my pistol, shoot him, and then call headquarters on my radio. "Total victory," I say. "Bring in the transports." No more bombers. Silence. We walk to the center of town, stepping over bodies and fallen streetlamps. Collapsed buildings line the path. More bodies in the park, trees with shattered leaves. "Victory Square" says a monument, half of a horse. Where is the rest of it? Where is the rider? "Centaur," says my guide. "Nikos The Wise." He tries to tell me the story of the centaur, but it's just gibberish. We've come across no other survivors. So I pull out my pistol, shoot him, and then call headquarters on my radio. "Total victory," I say. "Bring in the transports." No more bombers. Silence. We walk to the center of town, stepping over bodies and fallen streetlamps. Collapsed buildings line the path. More bodies in the park, trees with shattered leaves. "Victory Square" says a monument, half of a horse. Where is the rest of it? Where is the rider? "Centaur," says my guide. "Nikos The Wise." He tries to tell me the story of the centaur, but it's just gibberish. We've come across no other survivors. So I pull out my pistol, shoot him, and then call headquarters on my radio. "Total victory," I say. "Bring in the transports." tag:odeo.com,2009-10-07,25252666 Wed, 07 Oct 2009 12:19:39 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25244143-The-Lighter Down in the dungeon, the witch stirs up a boiling cauldron full of jokes "We stir to keep the lighter jokes from floating to the top and staying there," says Hildegard the Wicked. "Only when the jokes are finished do we skim them from the top." I've asked her what she puts in the pot to make the jokes, but she never reveals her secret. "You don't want to know," she says. "Just drink the potions I give you and be happy with it." Sure, I'll drink it, but I won't be happy with it. Funny, yes. But not happy. Down in the dungeon, the witch stirs up a boiling cauldron full of jokes "We stir to keep the lighter jokes from floating to the top and staying there," says Hildegard the Wicked. "Only when the jokes are finished do we skim them from the top." I've asked her what she puts in the pot to make the jokes, but she never reveals her secret. "You don't want to know," she says. "Just drink the potions I give you and be happy with it." Sure, I'll drink it, but I won't be happy with it. Funny, yes. But not happy. Down in the dungeon, the witch stirs up a boiling cauldron full of jokes "We stir to keep the lighter jokes from floating to the top and staying there," says Hildegard the Wicked. "Only when the jokes are finished do we skim them from the top." I've asked her what she puts in the pot to make the jokes, but she never reveals her secret. "You don't want to know," she says. "Just drink the potions I give you and be happy with it." Sure, I'll drink it, but I won't be happy with it. Funny, yes. But not happy. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-06,25244143 Tue, 06 Oct 2009 09:45:58 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25244144-Poetry-and-Coffee She asks me which I would rather have: good poetry and bad coffee, or bad poetry and good coffee. "Why not good poetry and good coffee?" I ask. "Can't you do both?" It turns out, not only is she the waitress but she's also a poet. "I don't have time for both," she says. "I can either concentrate on the coffee or write really good poetry." "Coffee," I say. "But this coffee will last only an hour or so," she says. "My poetry will last for generations, long after I'm dead." I shrug. "I guess they won't tip you either." Thank you, JueL. She asks me which I would rather have: good poetry and bad coffee, or bad poetry and good coffee. "Why not good poetry and good coffee?" I ask. "Can't you do both?" It turns out, not only is she the waitress but she's also a poet. "I don't have time for both," she says. "I can either concentrate on the coffee or write really good poetry." "Coffee," I say. "But this coffee will last only an hour or so," she says. "My poetry will last for generations, long after I'm dead." I shrug. "I guess they won't tip you either." Thank you, JueL. She asks me which I would rather have: good poetry and bad coffee, or bad poetry and good coffee. "Why not good poetry and good coffee?" I ask. "Can't you do both?" It turns out, not only is she the waitress but she's also a poet. "I don't have time for both," she says. "I can either concentrate on the coffee or write really good poetry." "Coffee," I say. "But this coffee will last only an hour or so," she says. "My poetry will last for generations, long after I'm dead." I shrug. "I guess they won't tip you either." Thank you, JueL. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-05,25244144 Mon, 05 Oct 2009 09:55:31 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25233482-Under-Observation We watch everything you do. We listen to everything you say. We read everything you write. We know everywhere you go. And after all this time, we've come to the simple conclusion that you're the most boring person on Earth. You don't do anything interesting at all. We haven't filed a single report on you in all the time you've been under observation. You're an easy assignment. Boring, but easy. So we're just going to ignore the fact that you're dead and just keep filing the same reports over and over. You won't mind. Because you're dead. That's... our secret. We watch everything you do. We listen to everything you say. We read everything you write. We know everywhere you go. And after all this time, we've come to the simple conclusion that you're the most boring person on Earth. You don't do anything interesting at all. We haven't filed a single report on you in all the time you've been under observation. You're an easy assignment. Boring, but easy. So we're just going to ignore the fact that you're dead and just keep filing the same reports over and over. You won't mind. Because you're dead. That's... our secret. We watch everything you do. We listen to everything you say. We read everything you write. We know everywhere you go. And after all this time, we've come to the simple conclusion that you're the most boring person on Earth. You don't do anything interesting at all. We haven't filed a single report on you in all the time you've been under observation. You're an easy assignment. Boring, but easy. So we're just going to ignore the fact that you're dead and just keep filing the same reports over and over. You won't mind. Because you're dead. That's... our secret. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-04,25233482 Sun, 04 Oct 2009 17:14:56 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25227389-Weekly-Challenge-181-Forty The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are usually selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge, but this week is a little different. The topic is Forty. You have until midnight on Friday October 9 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like to be the topic of Weekly Challenge #181. If you don't send one in and you win, I'll pick someone else's topic. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligi... The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are usually selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge, but this week is a little different. The topic is Forty. You have until midnight on Friday October 9 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like to be the topic of Weekly Challenge #181. If you don't send one in and you win, I'll pick someone else's topic. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 181 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Topics are usually selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge, but this week is a little different. The topic is Forty. You have until midnight on Friday October 9 to get the following in my hot little hands: The text of your story so I can post it on the site. If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated. What you would like to be the topic of Weekly Challenge #181. If you don't send one in and you win, I'll pick someone else's topic. A recording of your story in .mp3 format. Please use your name as the filename if you can, okay? Makes it easier to produce the show quickly. If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets. Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject line of WEEKLY CHALLENGE 181 and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in. The subject line is pretty important because even GMail tosses things in the Spamfilter by accident. Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment. Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have. Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-03,25227389 Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:25:09 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25227390-Weekly-Challenge-180-Wings Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Wings! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Steven Guy Cary Lynda Josh Terry Norval Joe Anima TJ Justin JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven “We don’t have penguins,” she IM’d. Her avatar’s tail twitched. He panned his cam over the alife chickens and turtles covering their parcel. The virtual eggs filled his inventory. “The people next to us have penguins,” she continued. “And scripted flexiwings.” He rezzed his own wings. “I got these from Yadni’s…” “I don’t want some freebie crap,” she said, and logged off. He made his wings stretch and flap. They’d been free, but with full permissions. With them, he co... Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Wings! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Steven Guy Cary Lynda Josh Terry Norval Joe Anima TJ Justin JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven “We don’t have penguins,” she IM’d. Her avatar’s tail twitched. He panned his cam over the alife chickens and turtles covering their parcel. The virtual eggs filled his inventory. “The people next to us have penguins,” she continued. “And scripted flexiwings.” He rezzed his own wings. “I got these from Yadni’s…” “I don’t want some freebie crap,” she said, and logged off. He made his wings stretch and flap. They’d been free, but with full permissions. With them, he could do anything. The neighbors watched the wings carry him over their chickens, turtles, and penguins, heading east, never to return. Guy David Dragon soup is our specialty. Trolls and Orcs love them. They come all the way from Orgrimmar to sample out cuisine. I can tell you, some good fights are fought over the seasoning of dragon wings. Our place is a lively establishment. Not a dull moment. You should come around, try our bat wings. You are going to love it. Those wings are spicy. Just take the Darkriver road to the northern tower. You can’t miss it. While you’re at it, could you bring me some vampire blood on the way? It would be great for our Night Elf Gumbo. Cary “Hey” “Hey” “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure, what’s up?” “I was wondering what those things on your side are.” “What things? Oh! Not really sure, never noticed them before.” “Well they look kind of cool. What do they do?” “Hmmm. Good question. Not really sure, but they are snazzy, aren’t they.” “Yea. Where do I get some, you reckon?” “Hey! Where are you going?” “Seems like down. Well it was nice talking to you. If you find out where I can get a pair of those at, let me know,” as he disappears into a puff of dust. Lynda Red Bulls are so good, I drank a hundred of them and I didn't get wings, but I cleaned my gutters and I didn't even need a ladder to get to the roof, I just jumped! Then I helped change a tire by totally ripping off the tire, and then I threw the tire, and the tire flew all the way across town to the dump and killed a hobo, but I don't feel bad about that--I can't feel anything but pure unadulterated caffeine rushing through my veins, busting up my brain and I think I'm having a heartattack! Josh The day i tried to fly, was the day i met God. "Poor creature," he said, "did I not give thee sense to know thou art not a winged bird?" i stared into indescribable eyes and saw everything - comprehending nothing. "My child, did I not give thee legs to carry thyself across solid earth?" i marveled at bottomless robes, praying to see what was beyond. "I am Creator of the Universe, Life, Knowledge. Yet thou art compelled, dissatisfied by what I know not. What could exist that I would not bestow unto thee? "Lord," i said "...curiosity." Terry Orville climbed the hill looking for his brother, Wilbur, after leaving their Buffalo bicycle shop. He was rather excited to see the new wing design they had been perfecting for the past six months. Today was going to be the grand introduction and they had invited all of their friends and neighbors. Seeing Wilbur standing in front of a large crown of people, he headed toward him. As he walked up to Wilbur he asked, “Are the wings ready?” “Just about” answered Wilbur, “All that’s left is to toss them in the hot sauce and put them in a bowl” Norval Joe Steel cables ran side by side, up the eastern slope of Half Dome; poles maintained them at waist level. Jeff stood at the bottom, paralized by fear, and peered up. The other boys were out of site, probably already on top. They had hiked through the night to watch the sunrise from the top. "If I had wings, I could fly up there," he said to the ground. He grasped the cable with both sweaty hands, placed shaking feet against the granite and began to climb. As the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, Jeff's shadow stretched across the summit. Anima Eduardo sat in the garden enjoying the last of the September sun. Spring in Rio was simply wonderful! The flowers were starting to bloom – the orchids and the amaryllis, the begonias and hibiscus, the color riot of red and orange and purple were almost too much for the senses. Silently, a butterfly landed on his knee. Eduardo was able to transfer it to his forefinger, where the spindly insect clung tenaciously. It slowly opened and closed its powder-worn and tattered wings. “Where do you come from, beautiful thing? Far away, no?” Meanwhile, in Houston, a tornado was brewing. TJ Elmer Popplewood was mesmerized. For the first time, there in the dark, watching "Up," he saw so clearly what those upgrades to his furnace and the oversized windmill installations to his Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired cantilevered roof extensions had been leading to all along. He'd been creating a flying house! Some extensive termite activity later he connected the treadmill to the decorative rooftop rotors, and he hit the oil painting of a big red button in his living room that said "LAUNCH!" At first, nothing happened. Oh, of course. He added the liquid hydrogen to the furnace. And ... he flew! Justin Gahamut and Raul, demon and angel, fought on a plateau. Viciously struck, Raul fell off the edge. He did not yet have wings. Robert looked into his Arby's bag and realized no one had asked if he wanted sauce. Exiting, he glanced at the 'good service' bell, leaving it unrung. Raul's shoulder blades tingled, but then nothing. Rick almost rang, but an alert employee said hello first. The ground grinned at Raul. Jeremy looked at the annoying alarm. It would ring any second, if he could just... Wings burst from Raul's back, his fingertips slid across dirt, then he soared. JRadimus The pain was indescribably excruciating. She passed out at least four times during the first seven-hour session, but lost count after that. By the end, she thought she was going to die, but she didn’t. This wasn’t Tabitha’s first tattoo by any stretch, but it was her first enchanted tattoo, and thus, her most complex, expensive and painful, one by far. After thirteen tortuous sessions, it was done. Full-sized angel wings sprawled across her back. And when the moonlight kissed the ink, all the pain was forgotten as she flexed her feathery new outgrowths and took flight. Planet Z Welcome to Three Buckets Icehouse. There's only one thing on the menu: Bucket of beer and a bucket of wings. I know, that's only two buckets. We used to give out a third bucket for throwing up in, but we eventually figured out what was wrong with the wing recipe that was making everyone sick after a couple of em. Now, by the time you feel sick, you're either on your last beer or last wing. “Where's the third bucket?” you ask. The bartender's pointin' to the bucket that has TIPS written on it. Don't throw up in it. Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Eighty, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic. The topic this week was... was.... um... It's Wings! The excellent theme music is by Guy David. VOTING Which were the best stories this week? Steven Guy Cary Lynda Josh Terry Norval Joe Anima TJ Justin JRadimus Planet Z    Free polls from Pollhost.com Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed): Steven “We don’t have penguins,” she IM’d. Her avatar’s tail twitched. He panned his cam over the alife chickens and turtles covering their parcel. The virtual eggs filled his inventory. “The people next to us have penguins,” she continued. “And scripted flexiwings.” He rezzed his own wings. “I got these from Yadni’s…” “I don’t want some freebie crap,” she said, and logged off. He made his wings stretch and flap. They’d been free, but with full permissions. With them, he could do anything. The neighbors watched the wings carry him over their chickens, turtles, and penguins, heading east, never to return. Guy David Dragon soup is our specialty. Trolls and Orcs love them. They come all the way from Orgrimmar to sample out cuisine. I can tell you, some good fights are fought over the seasoning of dragon wings. Our place is a lively establishment. Not a dull moment. You should come around, try our bat wings. You are going to love it. Those wings are spicy. Just take the Darkriver road to the northern tower. You can’t miss it. While you’re at it, could you bring me some vampire blood on the way? It would be great for our Night Elf Gumbo. Cary “Hey” “Hey” “Can I ask you a question?” “Sure, what’s up?” “I was wondering what those things on your side are.” “What things? Oh! Not really sure, never noticed them before.” “Well they look kind of cool. What do they do?” “Hmmm. Good question. Not really sure, but they are snazzy, aren’t they.” “Yea. Where do I get some, you reckon?” “Hey! Where are you going?” “Seems like down. Well it was nice talking to you. If you find out where I can get a pair of those at, let me know,” as he disappears into a puff of dust. Lynda Red Bulls are so good, I drank a hundred of them and I didn't get wings, but I cleaned my gutters and I didn't even need a ladder to get to the roof, I just jumped! Then I helped change a tire by totally ripping off the tire, and then I threw the tire, and the tire flew all the way across town to the dump and killed a hobo, but I don't feel bad about that--I can't feel anything but pure unadulterated caffeine rushing through my veins, busting up my brain and I think I'm having a heartattack! Josh The day i tried to fly, was the day i met God. "Poor creature," he said, "did I not give thee sense to know thou art not a winged bird?" i stared into indescribable eyes and saw everything - comprehending nothing. "My child, did I not give thee legs to carry thyself across solid earth?" i marveled at bottomless robes, praying to see what was beyond. "I am Creator of the Universe, Life, Knowledge. Yet thou art compelled, dissatisfied by what I know not. What could exist that I would not bestow unto thee? "Lord," i said "...curiosity." Terry Orville climbed the hill looking for his brother, Wilbur, after leaving their Buffalo bicycle shop. He was rather excited to see the new wing design they had been perfecting for the past six months. Today was going to be the grand introduction and they had invited all of their friends and neighbors. Seeing Wilbur standing in front of a large crown of people, he headed toward him. As he walked up to Wilbur he asked, “Are the wings ready?” “Just about” answered Wilbur, “All that’s left is to toss them in the hot sauce and put them in a bowl” Norval Joe Steel cables ran side by side, up the eastern slope of Half Dome; poles maintained them at waist level. Jeff stood at the bottom, paralized by fear, and peered up. The other boys were out of site, probably already on top. They had hiked through the night to watch the sunrise from the top. "If I had wings, I could fly up there," he said to the ground. He grasped the cable with both sweaty hands, placed shaking feet against the granite and began to climb. As the sun peeked over the eastern horizon, Jeff's shadow stretched across the summit. Anima Eduardo sat in the garden enjoying the last of the September sun. Spring in Rio was simply wonderful! The flowers were starting to bloom – the orchids and the amaryllis, the begonias and hibiscus, the color riot of red and orange and purple were almost too much for the senses. Silently, a butterfly landed on his knee. Eduardo was able to transfer it to his forefinger, where the spindly insect clung tenaciously. It slowly opened and closed its powder-worn and tattered wings. “Where do you come from, beautiful thing? Far away, no?” Meanwhile, in Houston, a tornado was brewing. TJ Elmer Popplewood was mesmerized. For the first time, there in the dark, watching "Up," he saw so clearly what those upgrades to his furnace and the oversized windmill installations to his Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired cantilevered roof extensions had been leading to all along. He'd been creating a flying house! Some extensive termite activity later he connected the treadmill to the decorative rooftop rotors, and he hit the oil painting of a big red button in his living room that said "LAUNCH!" At first, nothing happened. Oh, of course. He added the liquid hydrogen to the furnace. And ... he flew! Justin Gahamut and Raul, demon and angel, fought on a plateau. Viciously struck, Raul fell off the edge. He did not yet have wings. Robert looked into his Arby's bag and realized no one had asked if he wanted sauce. Exiting, he glanced at the 'good service' bell, leaving it unrung. Raul's shoulder blades tingled, but then nothing. Rick almost rang, but an alert employee said hello first. The ground grinned at Raul. Jeremy looked at the annoying alarm. It would ring any second, if he could just... Wings burst from Raul's back, his fingertips slid across dirt, then he soared. JRadimus The pain was indescribably excruciating. She passed out at least four times during the first seven-hour session, but lost count after that. By the end, she thought she was going to die, but she didn’t. This wasn’t Tabitha’s first tattoo by any stretch, but it was her first enchanted tattoo, and thus, her most complex, expensive and painful, one by far. After thirteen tortuous sessions, it was done. Full-sized angel wings sprawled across her back. And when the moonlight kissed the ink, all the pain was forgotten as she flexed her feathery new outgrowths and took flight. Planet Z Welcome to Three Buckets Icehouse. There's only one thing on the menu: Bucket of beer and a bucket of wings. I know, that's only two buckets. We used to give out a third bucket for throwing up in, but we eventually figured out what was wrong with the wing recipe that was making everyone sick after a couple of em. Now, by the time you feel sick, you're either on your last beer or last wing. “Where's the third bucket?” you ask. The bartender's pointin' to the bucket that has TIPS written on it. Don't throw up in it. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-03,25227390 Sat, 03 Oct 2009 06:25:12 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25222131-The-Itch Two more days. They warned me not to scratch it. "If that poison touches the air, it'll change," said the nurse. "Your body can fight it on its own if it's inside, but if you scratch it, you'll get worse." They can't give me anything for the pain. "It'll react with the poison, too," said the nurse. "Nasty stuff." My hands are tied to the bed rails. I've dislocated my shoulder again in the past hour. "MAKE IT STOP!" I scream. The door is closed, the walls are padded. The nurse smiles. "Be good, or we'll inject you with more." Two more days. They warned me not to scratch it. "If that poison touches the air, it'll change," said the nurse. "Your body can fight it on its own if it's inside, but if you scratch it, you'll get worse." They can't give me anything for the pain. "It'll react with the poison, too," said the nurse. "Nasty stuff." My hands are tied to the bed rails. I've dislocated my shoulder again in the past hour. "MAKE IT STOP!" I scream. The door is closed, the walls are padded. The nurse smiles. "Be good, or we'll inject you with more." Two more days. They warned me not to scratch it. "If that poison touches the air, it'll change," said the nurse. "Your body can fight it on its own if it's inside, but if you scratch it, you'll get worse." They can't give me anything for the pain. "It'll react with the poison, too," said the nurse. "Nasty stuff." My hands are tied to the bed rails. I've dislocated my shoulder again in the past hour. "MAKE IT STOP!" I scream. The door is closed, the walls are padded. The nurse smiles. "Be good, or we'll inject you with more." tag:odeo.com,2009-10-02,25222131 Fri, 02 Oct 2009 09:25:55 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories http://odeo.com/episodes/25219529-Under This morning, I found a tarp on my lawn. I want to peek under it, but who knows what's under it. Tarps cover things you don't want to look at. I can't tell what's under there by the bulge in the tarp. And every time I look, I swear it's changed shape. Maybe someone will take it if I just go back to my routine. So, I drag out the trash cans and check the mailbox. Everybody's mailbox is empty. "Maybe the mailman is under that tarp?" my neighbor asks. We sit around and wait. Nobody looks. We just wait. This morning, I found a tarp on my lawn. I want to peek under it, but who knows what's under it. Tarps cover things you don't want to look at. I can't tell what's under there by the bulge in the tarp. And every time I look, I swear it's changed shape. Maybe someone will take it if I just go back to my routine. So, I drag out the trash cans and check the mailbox. Everybody's mailbox is empty. "Maybe the mailman is under that tarp?" my neighbor asks. We sit around and wait. Nobody looks. We just wait. This morning, I found a tarp on my lawn. I want to peek under it, but who knows what's under it. Tarps cover things you don't want to look at. I can't tell what's under there by the bulge in the tarp. And every time I look, I swear it's changed shape. Maybe someone will take it if I just go back to my routine. So, I drag out the trash cans and check the mailbox. Everybody's mailbox is empty. "Maybe the mailman is under that tarp?" my neighbor asks. We sit around and wait. Nobody looks. We just wait. tag:odeo.com,2009-10-01,25219529 Thu, 01 Oct 2009 09:34:33 -0700 yes 100 Word Stories