The 100 Word Stories Podcast

LizzieNorval JoeLewie The next topic is An empty deodorant can RICHARD Like his dad? She turned and smiled at me with pride, “Won’t you just look at that, he’s a real chip off the old block.” Well, he may have been my kid, but I was struggling to see even the remotest resemblance to myself. It was ten years since I’d last seen him, thanks to a very messy divorce. I tried to see myself in him, but I couldn’t equate the skinny, ballet-dancing, somewhat effeminate boy with his beer-swilling, biker dad. “I’m not sure, Sherry, he’s nothing like me.” “I know that, you jerk… It’s me he takes after. Thank God!” LIZZIE The yacht was new. Was it? The plan was to sail aimlessly for a week, exploring the small beaches along the coast. A bad plan. Deciding to sail aimlessly was just the first of many problems. Upon closer inspection, they noticed water and chips of rotten wood drifting inside the hull. Then an error message appeared. An electronic chip was apparently damaged. An argument erupted, and chipped teeth happened. When they finally returned back home, they vowed to sell the yacht, and pay for the dentist with the money. It was either that or try their luck at the casino. TOM Peeking Early He was 42 and his name was Chip. Though he graduated of U of C in business, he worked for his dad at the mobile house company. He actually looked like a chip. Browning blonde hair, a good 6 foot two. Horn rimmed glasses and a not so smile smile. We did a lot of paper work for the purchase of the house. I’m sure he did something to make the paperwork flow. Never learned his give name. Since that was 40 years ago that would make him in his 80s. Can you be Chip rounding 90? Peeking early. SERENDIPIDY Being a contract killer isn’t completely without its risks. There are, of course, the obvious challenges – you’re not exactly dealing with decent folk, and that goes for those hiring you, as well as those you’re going to be taking out. Then, of course, there’s the cops and all the associated dangers of getaway driving, hiding-out and taking care of potential witnesses. As I said, it’s a risky business. However, sometimes it’s the small, unexpected things that really trip you up. Like the last job I did… I got a nasty chip in my nail polish from the pistol trigger. NORVAL JOE Finding a safe place to take off, Billbert flew just above the trees to the Withybottom’s mansion. Mandi waited for him on the front porch. When Billbert landed at the top of the steps, he asked, “Did you forget your key?” She held it up. “No. There’s something stuck in the keyhole.” Billbert peered into the hole. “You’re right. Someone hammered a wood chip into it. Who would do something like that? “Who else?” Mandi stated. “John the butler.” She sighed. “All of the other doors are sabotaged, too.” Billbert said cheerfully, “We’ll just have to find another way in.” LEWIE Title: Repeat Until Texture Is Uniform Charles has indirectly pierced corn husks inside Paul’s chipper. Howling in panic, Charles had ignored pain, creeping humbly, influencing present conditions. Hope infused Paul, carrying him. “I progressed— clearing hazards, I’ll persevere,” calming hands in place. Charles, having ingested protruding cobs, hummed in place. “Charles?” He imagined patterns— circles, heart-infused impressions, pulsating. “Charles!?” Hope impoverished Paul. “Charles, help, I—” paused. Cold hesitation intensified panic. Crushing him in paralysis. Cogs halted in place. Charles hung, irregular. Paul couldn’t help. “I’m powerless…” Crushing hum intensified, persistently. Conscious horror invading perception. Clearly, husks in place. Chewed, hashing into paste. Curiously, hints irresistibly palatable. PLANET Z The Chinese waited until the yields on their microchip fabrication We’re good enough before they invaded Taiwan. It was an absolute bloodbath in the streets and in the markets. Only after the death settled, they revealed that they had 2 and...

As Henry walked through the woods, he listened to the birds and the wind blowing through the trees. Sometimes he would stop and close his eyes and just let the breeze and the music of the forest flow through him. But it was starting to get dark, and checked his map encompass. He didn’t want to pull out his phone, but he wasn’t too sure about where he was, and so he gave in and opened up the map and found that he had gone in the completely opposite direction from his camp. He laughed, turned around, and began walking.

Alfred kept a cheat sheet tattooed on his left arm. Werewolves were silver bullets. Mummies were fire. Vampires were garlic and crosses and mirrors. And so on with the list. Not that he ran into these creatures all that much, but whenever he did, he had their weakness right there. When he ran into things that he hadn’t before, one of the locals would tell him what he needed, and he goes straight to the tattoo parlor and add to his list. Then the store. He always made sure to wear short sleeve shirts when he went out on adventures.

I put a cover over my air-conditioning heat pump to keep leaves and rocks out of it. However, somehow something got in there. There was a loud banging. I turned off the air conditioning to the house and looked under the cover. There was a severed tail at the bottom of the unit and some sort of lizard or frog chopped up and stuck in the grading on top. Apparently it kept bouncing off of the spinning blades, sticking to the grading, and eventually falling back into the blades. I cleaned out the creature, and restarted the unit. Fixed.

Early chemists discovered elements by looking around, maybe digging a little. Maybe they had to heat something up a little. Further on, chemists had to go digging for a really long time, mix vials of goop, and filter out lots of crap to find new elements. As the effort increased, so did the announcements and the launch parties. Pretty soon, they were firing electrons at lumps of stuff behind large amounts of sheeting or concrete walls. And the parties came with parades and fireworks. But this request for a team of skydiving Elvis impersonators? Rejected. Just get a damn cake.

They say that if you meet Buddha by the side of the road, you must kill him. But that is not Buddha. It is Adam West. You know, the guy who played Batman on television. He was a voice in that cartoon show as the mayor. And you killed him. I mean, yeah, people mistake him for the Buddha a lot, I admit it. If they were in a police lineup, you’d have a hard time telling them apart. As if the Buddha would be stealing from a bodega or groping people on the subway. Adam West? Maybe he would.

The alphabet started small. Two or three marginalized groups, bringing their causes together, fighting for their rights. Then other groups added themselves to the alphabet, trying to pin their demand for rights to the causes of others. More and more groups jumped aboard. Pretty soon, the reading of the alphabet took longer than whatever speech or presentation an activist was giving. God forbid they left anyone out of the alphabet, or there would be screaming accusations of marginalization among the marginalized. Eventually, it got too difficult to remember or say, and it was shortened to We hate white straight men.

Lizzie The next topic is Chip RICHARD Might as well jump So, my mate John from the tribute band, Fan Halen, was feeling the show needed jazzing up a bit. It needed more energy, more of a rock n roll vibe. He asked me for some tips. I mulled a few ideas around in my mind, eventually suggesting that maybe he should give the classic stage dive a shot. We decided he should try it at the next gig. All was going well, right up until that moment. John is the only guy I know that can throw himself on top of a tightly packed mass of fans… And miss completely. SERENDIPIDY Classic signs of a violent struggle: significant abrasions, torn nails, multiple defensive cuts to the hands and arms, and a blood spatter pattern that clearly demonstrated this had been a protracted and extremely vicious attack. I’ll be the first to admit, it wasn’t the tidiest of crime scenes that I’d left in my wake, but life can be like that – even with meticulous planning, things can get messy. Then again, I like messy. It’s my trademark. If I left the scene, clean, tidy and clinical, you wouldn’t know it was my handiwork. And, I really can’t have that, can I? LIZZIE Classic. A car? The radio. Classic music? No, the radio. The music on the radio? No, the radio. The officer closed his notepad, shook his head, and walked away. Classic. Someone overheard it. Why classic? The radio. Oh, not the cop? No, the radio. Why did he walk away? Don’t know, but… the radio. No one paid attention. But he knew. The radio had killed them. So, he grabbed it, and walked away. Classic. The word kept repeating in his head. When he smashed the damn thing, it made a fizzling sound and that was it. Classic problem-solving strategy, brutality. TOM The face that launched a 1000 ships She was a classic. Timely with an air of certainty. One could not own such a spirit, only assess it her continuation. To that end I have amassed a considerable fortune in protection lesser soul from gain purchase. Some might point out I may have lost my way in this pursuit. But look at her, she shines brighter than the brightest star. Markus took for last long gaze. He drew the curtain. Locked the door. The air above the bunker was -25. It was 200 miles to the air field. As he fly into the rising sun, Markus thought safe at last. PLANET Z I remember when Coke became New Coke, and then they brought back original Coke as Coke Classic. Pepsi never became New Pepsi or Pepsi Classic, nor did Dr. Pepper, RC. or any other soda. Sprite, Mountain Dew, and Tab didn’t change at all, either. Fanta, that Nazi soda, has never changed. Well, when I say changed, I mean branding. A lot of them have changed from sugar to corn syrup. Although now many claim to use cane sugar. But none are changing to New or Classic. They just say cane sugar on the front and then in the ingredients list.

Art critics are racists. Take two neo-expressionist artists: Cy Tombly and Jean Basquiat. Both made rudimentary art, scribbles and scrawled words. They described Twombly as brilliant, sublime, and amazing. Praising garbage. And they described Basquiat as chaotic, primitive, untrained, and child-like. A graffiti-spraying amateur. Which, to be fair, he was. A homeless drug addict scraped off the sidewalk by Andy Warhol, caged up in a basement, and pumping out art for the dealer upstairs to peddle. Warhol orders an employee to silk-screen up a logo, and then Basquiat defaces it. Me, I describe both as crap. Regardless of their race.

My parents are dead. My father’s brother, my gay uncle, had no children. And before that, the name was what some clerk wrote down. At the immigration desk in the port of San Francisco. When my great-grandfather said Zigmund. And he heard Simon. So, nobody in the old country. Not that any would have survived what happened there. I have no children. My brother does. He has a daughter. But she will take on the name of whatever husband or wife she takes. Her children will have their name. And my family name will be no more. Simon says, disappear.

It’s a small town, and the grocery store, pharmacy, and a few restaurants are about seven minutes walk. So, unless I’ve got a lot of groceries to pick up, I like to walk. I mean, I walk two or three times a day for exercise and it’s working. The other night, I walked to the pharmacy to pick something up and they had already closed early. And I laughed. I hadn’t run out of pills yet, so I could wait till tomorrow, and I enjoyed the walk there, and I enjoyed the walk back, and I’ll walk there again tomorrow.

A lot of people have opinions on the robot umpires, but I’m looking forward to robot hot dog vendors. Because I don’t want to wait for that shouting guy to walk around with the hot dogs. Nor do I want to get up and go get a hot dog. I know I can order a hot dog and have it delivered to me, but that guy often has a bunch of orders in his route and ends up taking as long as the shoutong guy walking around. Just put a cannon on the roof, aim it, and I’ll catch it.

Jesus may have said to render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s, but when it came to his next-door neighbor Ralph, he said screw that creep. Ralph was always dumping his lawn clippings over the fence on to Jesus’ yard. And he parked his chariot in a way that blocked Jesus’ driveway. He once caught Ralph with his mail, and Ralph said he was just coming over to hand it to Jesus. Yeah, right. Jesus never believed that Judas betrayed him. He thought it was Ralph. Judas confessed, but Jesus said “Yeah, right. Uh huh. I know it was Ralph.”

I was sitting by a stream when an old man carrying a worn out map, walked up to the stream, crossed it, and made a mark on his map. I’ve done it, he shouted. I finally done it. I got up and walked to the stream edge and asked him done what I’ve climbed every mountain and forwarded every stream, he said. I did everything that singing bitch told me to do, and I finally done it. He showed me the map, and sure enough, every mountain and stream had been marked with ink. Congratulations, I said. And we hugged.

LewieLizzieNorval Joe The next topic is Classic LEWIE As the tour guide brought the group through a museum, a cheesy cover band was in one room playing ambient music of slicing, shredding, and melting cheese on a grill, another member was stretching mozzarella, while another was intensely focused curing a wheel of cheddar. The exhibit itself was full of various sculptures of hats, swords, animals, flowers, and more. They were colorful and seemed to wave in the air. It almost seemed as if static electricity drew them towards you. In each room, the artist could be heard twisting, rubbing, and shaping new sculptures made of vibrant, colorful balloons. LIZZIE Slow down, she cried. The streets were empty. A strict curfew was in force. We can’t slow down, he whispered. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward. He couldn’t leave her behind. She was his world. She had taught him to believe that everything could go back to what it was. That’s when he saw them. The three red orbs, scanning the alleyway. He instinctively covered her body with his, right before they fired. Years later, she told their child, now the leader of a democratic country, the story of that day when they had to run and hide. RICHARD I’m with the band He was in a cover band; they called themselves Fan Halen. He played guitar. In his mind he could shred like Eddie, but to be absolutely honest, his two-handed tapping was just a mess of fumbling fingers and he was the only guitarist I knew who routinely ended up with pick-related injuries. The rest of the band were pretty awful too, and behind their backs we used to refer to them as Van Failin’! I drove them to all their gigs, and despite the dreadful music, I always stayed for the whole show. Why? Two words – the groupies! TOM 1040 by my reckoning this week is the 20th year at the challenge. So thank to L for what was a long strange trip it’s been. Dawn patrol It was 4-a-clock in Montmartre. The locales were hosing down the street from the debris of the swarms of Germans and Russians had pasted. I had slowed down to a sub-stroll among the glittering empty streets. Circling out from the main square I came upon a rather shabby structure and it’s garage. In a dormer window was this abstract stick model. A small sign in front of the build quietly stated this was Pabla Picasso’s studio. No fanfare, just acknowledgment. Best sculpture gallery in the city of light. If you ever get a chance to visit, throw away the guidebook, wander. SERENDIIDY Slow down! I know it’s late, and the empty streets are dark and deserted. You’re scared, and that’s understandable. You’re rushing, focussed on getting to your destination as quickly as possible. You walk briskly, glancing over your shoulder, avoiding alleyway entrances, ears attuned to any unexpected sound. But, there’s really no need to rush. Slow down, take it easy, savour the moment, you can afford to take your time, I promise you. You see, no matter what you do, whether you dawdle or sprint, I’m going to get you anyway. So, make the most of the time you have left. NORVAL JOE “Slow down, a minute,” Sabrina said. “You don’t expect Loony Bin to come on a special mission like this. I don’t mean to shred your hopes about a happy little threesome heading off on a great adventure. But she just doesn’t fit.” From the first time he met Sabrina, she had insisted on making all of his choices for him, and now Billbert was fed up. “First of all,” he growled at her. “I want you to stop calling Mindi names. And second of all, she’s been a friend of mine for a long time, and she fits to me.” PLANET Z When I was very sick, I kept extensive notes and every receipt and doctors report. I deducted all of the healthcare expenses, and eventually I got better. After a while, the notes and receipts were taking up a lot of space in my closet. So I dragged out the paper shredder and fed the documents in one by one. A few minutes later, the shredder slowed down. The...

I guess it isn’t working out so well. Protestors without masks. People coming across the border for health care. Kids being kids. Fingerpointing. Blame. Fools in stores refusing to wear masks. Beaches. Parks. Going out when we don’t have to. (You know, like my third grocery run of the week.) Or when we’re sick. I see the neighbors doing laundry without masks. Or going to their cars or walking their dogs. Dumbasses. Not washing our hands. We’re fat. We’re sick. We’re having the same unhealthy shit delivered to us. It’s all bad choices. You can only control your own actions.

Two months ago, they launched a new series of video cards. But they didn’t make enough of them, so they were impossible to get. Unless you went through a scalper on eBay, of course. And they were damned expensive. For the past two months, barely any of the cards get to the stores. Scalpers keep snapping them up. But, thankfully, the prices are coming down. I did the math, and finally ordered one. I bookmarked the shipping tracker. It’s up in a browser tab. Every five minutes, I hit refresh. A watched pot never boils. And the doorbell doesn’t ring.

I got a letter from Greenpeace the other day. Your classic Save The Whales plea. When I think whales, I think the killer whale Shamoo at Sea World. Leaping from the water for fish. I also remember a whale watching boat off the coast of Cape Cod. A blinding storm with the waves tossing the boat around. Throwing up over the side until I could only dry heave and scream myself hoarse. I shred the letter and go online. Searching for defense funds of Japanese and Norwegian “marine research’ boats. Kill them all. Let no seasick kid ever suffer again.

I used to be pretty good at frisbee golf. I had a strong throw and pretty good accuracy. I practiced throwing at trees and trash cans at various distances. And I played the campus course nearly every day. After I graduated, I played the course a few times, but I eventually hung up the disks. Years later, I moved into a small town with a half-abandoned golf course. The community converted it into a nature walk and preserve. And set up frisbee golf cages. I got a new disk, went to the course, and threw. And hit a nearby house.

Freddy saw a job posting, and he sent his resume and cover letter. Two days later, they wrote him back saying that they went with another candidate. Then, a month later, the job posting appeared again. He adjusted his cover letter slightly, telling them that they wouldn’t have had to repost the job if they had hired him. He was ready to drag and drop it to the form, but decided to go with his original cover letter. Two days later, they went with another candidate. When the job posting appeared again a month later, he closed the browser window.