The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Richard Lisa Lizzie Serendipidy Tom Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is webcam LISA Trolling Trolling Trolling After adding a filter Sherry uploaded the photo and waited for the influx of comments and messages. She believed everything horrible posted; it was only a fresh flurry of negativity that washed the first lot away. She counted the negative comments as they came in. Already they were up to 25 in just three minutes. As usual, she hovered over Delete Post. Then a comment popped up “YOU STINK!” She laughed. Knowing she HAD forgotten deodorant that morning. But how would they know? And did it matter? It didn’t. She felt she'd turned a corner and posted happily ever after. Thanks for organising... Hope you well RICHARD --- Fragrant --- I could see immediately that something wasn't quite right. It was the grimace and the way she screwed up her nose in disgust that gave it away. "Is there something wrong" I asked, gingerly. Frowning, she responded "I don't quite know how to tell you this, but, honestly, you stink!" Well, I'd say she knew exactly how to tell me what was on her mind! "I'm sorry, it's my job. The chemicals I have to work with..." my voice tailed off in resignation. "No, it's not that. It's that bloody aftershave that you always insist on wearing. It's absolutely foul!" LIZZIE You stink. Give me your clothes. I'll wash them. Why not? You can't stay here if you stink. You're going to stink up the whole place. Give them to me. Hurry up. I don't have all day to deal with this. Well, you're going to put something else on, of course. What do you mean? Where are all your clothes, then? You what?! Why would you do that? Because it's crazy. Now, you have no clothes. Give me your clothes right now. What are you doing? No, no. Ok, keep them on, just don't... A scream and some laughter ensued. SERENDIPIDY Here's the problem with being one of the undead. One you'll never read about in books, or see in the movies, although it should be obvious, really. The fact of the matter is that you stink. All that rotting flesh, decay, and hanging around in crypts and graveyards has a fairly predictable outcome. Then, there's our diets, and what follows from feasting on large quantities of protein and blood. As for personal hygiene... When did you ever hear of a vampire or zombie taking a nice, long, hot shower? You may not hear us coming, but you'll definitely smell us! TOM Reset To preform is too fail. A near infinite gathering of uncontrollable factors can bring your magic trick to its knees, if your trick had actually knees. While in the current polite culture we live, we aren’t likely to hurl vegetables at a magician. All the same one should not discount the possibility one strongly opinionated person might offer the following insightful review of your work: you suck. It hurts no less if it just lingers in their eyes. I can take solace is a story told by Jim Cary when a guy from the audience tossed a piss soaked towel in his face. Now that active suckiness. NORVAL JOE The cops lifted the intruder. Harry made a face. “Dang, buddy. You stink.” And they dragged him out the door. “What did that guy want?” Billbert asked. His mother watched out the window as the police drove away. “He wanted to know where Sabrina is.” “He was wasting his time.” Billbert shrugged. “We don’t know where she is.” “Not exactly,” Mr. Weinerheimer raised his eyebrows at his wife. His wife nodded. “A clairvoyant from work found her in a house near Highland Avenue and Nevada Street and said she’s safe.” Before Billbert could move, she added, “It’s late. Go to bed.” PLANET Z Clarence fell out of a tree and broke his leg when he was seven. He was in a cast for a few months. Still, he wanted to go outside and play with his friends, even though he was on crutches. He ended up all dirty and muddy and scratched up every day,

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. The ship's captain sent George out on a lot of "scouting missions." Which were really just to get rid of the accident-prone George. George would wander the place around for several days, looking for treasure, but he always ended up finding trouble. Even though it was a huge relief to the crew not to have George on board and screwing things up. Eventually, George would return, chased by an angry mob. "Pull the gangplank and raise anchor!" shouted the captain, hoping to escape before George got back on board.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He has no gravesite. No, he wasn't buried at sea. His body was burned, and the ashes scattered. That way, there would not be a grave for his followers to revere. Over the years, many memorials to George have been built. Piles of flowers, greeting cards, and stuffed teddy bears. Cheap candles in cheap tin holders. And the authorities have torn them all down. Shadowy figures meet in dark alleys. Exchanging secret handshakes, speaking secret passwords. They whisper praise to George. The pirate, who wasn't a very good pirate.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He was good to animals, though. He didn't eat meat, and avoided products that exploited animals, such as milk or cheese. His clothes were all natural fibers like hemp, not leather. When he wasn't out at sea, he volunteered at a sanctuary for parrots that had been rescued from cruel pirates. Rehabilitating as many as he could back into the wild, while caring for those who were too injured or domesticated to go back to their natural habitat. "George is a good pirate!" sang the chorus of happy birds.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He seemed distracted, looking out over the rail and staring at... nothing. Only George knew what he was looking at... the memory of a beautiful woman, walking naked on the beach. But he said nothing. He just stared. So, the rest of the crew looked out over the rail and stared. Nobody noticed the British Navy frigate closing in from the other side. However, as they approached, they saw the pirates all staring, and they too stared that way.. No shots were fired, and the ships slowly drifted apart.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. CNN's Jeanne Moos did a profile on George, but made him out to be a complete assclown of a pirate. George was furious. "I do not fall overboard that often," he growled. "And I only dropped my cutlass twice." He filed a complaint, which the network ignored. So, George took a CNN crew hostage and demanded a ransom and retraction. "Go ahead, kill them," said the CNN executives. "They're worthless." George posted their callous response on Facebook. And the executives complained how unethical George was for exposing their inhumanity.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Write a list of all the things that come to mind when you think of the word pirate. George is none of those. Not a single one of them. Unless, of course, you are crazy. Then, I'm sure George will be a few of the things on your list. So will a cockroach, a bowl potato salad, the Planet Neptune, and the smell of freshly-washed bedsheets. Yes, you can read more George stories. Would you like to draw me a picture of George? Okay. Here's a crayon. Go ahead.

Richard Lisa Lizzie Serendipidy Tom Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is You stink! LISA We’d just gone out for some smokes. That was all. It’s not like there’s much else to do when the powers out is there? It was a hot day – tempers had been frayed. Then the air con stopped working. Alarms started beeping down the street. I tried a light switch and nothing! They called us animals in court. Like we’d hunted in a pack. Scapegoats is what we were. They were making an example of us. I mean, the door was open. I left the cash on the counter. It’s hardly my fault if some looter took it is it? RICHARD --- Dead Man’s Hand --- Dad always won at poker. It didn't matter, we only played for pennies, the only thing at stake was pride. Still, it would have been nice to win more than once in a while. It was his thing though, and we spent many an evening happily playing cards and enjoying a bottle of bourbon. He's been gone a while now, and I miss those evenings together. I found his old pack of cards whilst clearing out some boxes, so I invited the boys round for a game. Now we know how he always won. Sixty three cards in the pack! LIZZIE He packed a bag and grabbed the jeep. It's urgent, they said. And off he went. The terrain was rugged, the whole trip a disaster. A flat tire. The jeep started leaking oil. When it finally died, he was stranded in the middle of nowhere. What now? That's when they appeared. He had never seen them, their faces painted, their hair braided with long strings of many colors. They didn't talk, but he could hear them. Need help? He nodded. When he woke up, he got dressed, packed a bag and grabbed the jeep. He wondered. Where would they be? SERENDIPIDY I was raised by a pack of wolves; abandoned in the forest, left to fend for myself, they found me, nurtured me and kept me safe. I learned their ways, lived as one of them, earned their respect and their loyalty. And now I am the alpha. I am in control, and they obey me, protect me, with their very lives if necessary. And tonight, we hunt. Do you hear the chill howls as we approach? Do you see the red glow of our eyes? The snapping and flash of our teeth? And, when you cry wolf. No-one will hear. TOM 52! For five years I have traveled everywhere with packs of cards. Waiting for open heart surgery, In church during church. At tables to dinner at tables to vote. I have created a number of pack tricks which I call the COVID Collection. I going to present my best full pack trick this Tuesday in Oakland for the 100-year meeting of the oldest magic club West of the Mississippi. The pack produces four Royal Flushes in a row. Then four Straight Flushes. It’s called Primo Vi-gintillion. Still working on story to frame the impossible. Got the how, lookn for the why. NORVAL JOE Billbert’s dad quickly tied up the unconscious intruder and called the police. When they arrived, Mr. Withybottom told the officer, “He said he was looking for Sabrina Hecksaohos.” The officer gave Billbert and Mandy the side eye. “I know you two. You claimed your butler was poisoning someone.” Mandy scowled at him. “John did poison my dad and he just tried to kidnap us in front of the police station.” The cop laughed. “We found that guy wandering around and waving a gun.” He turned to his partner. “Harry. Pack up this perp and let’s go talk to the butler.” PLANET Z Every year I buy a new hurricane preparedness pack with several weeks of dehydrated meals. I donate the old one too the local food pantry. Lots of other people do this, so the county is up to the rafters with dehydrated, eggs, and chicken cacciatore. The water purification tablets have a much longer shelf life, but sometimes I forget and leave those in the packs and have to buy new ones of those too. Does bottled water expire? I don’t know. I’ve seen a few cases of those at the food pantry, so maybe I should donate those as well.

... and that's 20 years. George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. "You're the Jerry Lewis of pirates," grumbled his exasperated captain. The rest of the crew laughed. Except for Frenchy, who said that George was no Jerry Lewis. George looked up Jerry Lewis in the encyclopedia and learned about a technique called "video assist." Directors could watch instant reviews of shots instead of waiting for the crew to develop and print the daily footage. George tried it with his performance But he still kept falling overboard, but now with the expensive equipment. Frenchy roared with laughter. "You ARE Jerry Lewis!"

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. To pirate groupies, he was pirate enough. Oh, you've seen them, there at the taverns and bars, hanging out at the docks. The beer might be free, but the price you pay is an STD, or even worse, a long-term relationship. Pirates who settle down just aren't the same. They can't just go out on adventures and looting and pillaging, no matter how much they want to. They've got familiars, mortgages, bills to pay. Which makes the urge to get back to the open sea all the much stronger.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Especially on laundry day. If there weren't any open washing machines, he'd dump someone's finished load out on the floor and toss in his own. How dare they make him wait? It's called a timer. Even though the washing machines said liquid only, he'd fill the little detergent drawer with powder. And he'd overload the machine, cramming as much as he could in there. No available dryers? Another finished load tossed on the floor. The worst of it was him standing there naked, waiting for his clothes to dry.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate. Fear consumed him, and when faced with a decision, any decision, his inner dialogue drowned out any course of action. George stood there, eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Hearing none of the angry voices around him, the hands grabbing his arms and trying to shake him out of his paralysis. Endless ”What if?” rolled around in his mind, and the crowd around him grew angrier and angrier, cursing and swearing. The girl at the register looked past George. “Next please? Welcome to McDonalds, may I take your order?”

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. The captain was always looking for things for George to do, other than pirate stuff. When the captain learned of an upcoming solar eclipse, he sailed into the total eclipse path. "George, I know what you can do," he said. "We don't have time to sail to Walmart to get those special eclipse filter glasses. Can you scrounge the cargo hold and make some for us?" George tried. And, well... After the eclipse, the crew were covering their eyes and screaming. "I'm sorry," said George. "I'll make more eyepatches."

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. After a long and difficult week, George muttered "Thank God it's Friday." The clouds parted, a light shone down, and a voice boomed "YOU'RE WELCOME!" The light faded, and it began to rain. George was left confused, frightened, and wet. "What the fuck just happened?" said George, shaking and holding on to the railing to keep from fainting. George looked around, but there was nobody there to ask: "Did you see that? Did you hear that?" It was just George on the deck, standing there, soaked to the bone.

Richard Lisa Lizzie Serendipidy Tom Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Pack RICHARD --- Snooze --- What's that beeping? Mostly still asleep, brain barely functioning, it slowly dawns on you: The alarm is going off. Clumsily, you fumble for the hateful thing at the side of the bed, hitting the snooze button, before crashing back into the pillows for the next ten minutes. It's not like this in the movies. No -one ever hits snooze in films. They either hurl the offending article across the room, or wake pleasantly refreshed; no yawning, hair and makeup pristine, sheets artfully draped across them, hiding anything remotely offensive. The alarm sounds again. I hit snooze. Ten more minutes, please. LISA What's that Beeping? It hasn’t been a first date like in the movies. He’d come round to mine but my smoke alarm needed new batteries and was beeping. He went to get some and didn’t come back... not meant to be. I necked the wine and spent the evening scrolling facebook. Then I saw, in a local community group, a picture of a car wrapped around a signpost. One person seriously injured & taken to the General. It was him! I went straight to the hospital, pretended to be family and here I am listening to the beeping of his life support machine. LIZZIE That way. No, this way. And they continued to argue even though the signpost was right there. A policeman approached and asked where they were going. They stuttered. The policeman frowned. Bicycles, they said. The policeman pointed to the rent sign and waved them away. But... What if..., one of them started. The policeman rolled his eyes and jokingly asked where they hid the body. How did he know?! No more asking for directions. There was only one possible way. The End. Funny how an open-ended story can be as annoying as people who don't know where they are going. SERENDIPIDY You passed the signpost a good half hour ago, the one that said three miles to go. Surely, it can't be much further? You peer into the darkness… It's the middle of nowhere, you've no signal and the satnav is blank. Perhaps you took a wrong turning somewhere along the way? Suddenly, the car engine stutters and dies. You roll slowly to a halt. The silence presses in. You're alone. Guess you should just sit tight until the morning and make the best of it. Except it's never quite that simple in the movies. Are you afraid? You should be! TOM It was a good Gig Gary was a Federal Information Designer. His job was boring, but his hidden quest was bright and shine-y. He wanted highway signs to be bright and shine-y. His office was piled high with Sample Signposts. Lots of vermilion and forms straight out of the Memphis movement. For a dyed in the wool bureaucrat, he sure had a deep exult for glitter, I mean rainbow glitter. It of a tip there. The sample signpost that got him promoted had 47’s face in the middle. And it was gold plates. With orange lettering. It was impossible to understand, just like the man. NORVAL JOE “What’s that beeping?” Mandi asked as they climbed the ashlar steps to the open front door. “It’s the panic alarm. Wait here,” Billbert said, levitated, and soundlessly entered the house. Like a scene in the movies, a man in a mask held a gun on Billbert’s parents. His mother made eye contact and quickly looked away. Fortified by her superpower of efficiency, Billbert knew what to do when she nodded. He shot forward as both his parents dropped to the floor. Billbert grabbed the intruder, lifted him, and slammed him into the wall. The gun flew from the thug’s hand. NORVAL JOE After weed had been decriminalized in the city, Bradley sold at the late night Pink Floyd show at the Science Center planetarium. "We're here to make sure everybody plays nice," said the cops. Bradley thanked them for their service, offered up free samples. Bradley went back to selling,

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He spent an unusual amount of time exploring the arts and humanities instead of hunting for treasure. Where other pirates would loot a museum, he'd walk the halls, listening to the tour guide, appreciating the art, and admiring the brush strokes and chisel angles. He tried his hand at sculpture, creating a pirate figure out of butter. It won second place at the State Fair. Proud of his work, he brought it back to the ship. His crewmates spread it over their bread. George grumbled, and swabbed the deck.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He fell for lots of scams. One time, he took a pamphlet from a group at the airport, and he ended up on an avocado farm wearing an orange robe. He enjoyed harvesting avocados, but missed being a pirate. So when the farm was raided by pirates, he asked if he could join them. It was his old crew. "No," they said. "We've been doing great without you." The last sack of avocados they hauled away was unusually heavy. Safely aboard, George crawled out and smiled. Home at last.

GEORGE WAS A PIRATE, BUT HE WASN'T A VERY GOOD PIRATE. INSTEAD OF RAIDING TOWNS AND SHIPS FOR USEFUL THINGS, LIKE FOOD AND AMMUNITION AND SUPPLIES, HE'D LOOT FLEAMARKETS AND GARAGE SALES, AND HAUL BACK A PILE OF JUNK. "THERE'S NOTHING QUITE LIKE THE FEEL OF A CLASSIC WEIGHTED KEYBOARD WITH SPRINGS AND INDIVIDUAL KEYS," SAID GEORGE, TAPPING THE KEYS AND HEARING THAT SATISFYING LOUD CLACK. "YOU DON'T GET THAT WITH THOSE THIN APPLE KEYBOARDS OR THOSE CHEAP PLASTIC ONES." "WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING EVERYTHING?" ASKED THE CAPTAIN. GEORGE PUSHED THE SHIFT KEY A FEW TIMES. "I THINK IT'S STUCK."

George had two tickets to The Moth. Nobody wanted the other ticket, so he went alone. He thought he was signing a guestbook, but it was the speakers list. When they called his name, George was confused, but they pushed him to the stage. He adjusted the microphone, took a sip of water, and said: "I am a pirate, but..." He hesitated, sipped more water, and said "But I'm not a very good pirate." He told stories for hours, the timekeeper just as mesmerized as the crowd. When George finished, no applause, not a sound. Just the spotlight and silence.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. After he was fired from his job, he built a pirate-themed escape room. Customers were thrown into a locked room and told that they were being held until someone paid the ransom. "This is lame," said a customer. "Where's the puzzles? Let us out!" Only when George got the money were they told they'd won, and were released. Pretty soon, George's escape room got a reputation as a scam. But before the cops could arrest him, George escaped, and had gotten another pirate job, and was back at sea.