The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Richard Lisa Tom Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Poetry LISA Christmas Christmas was always the same at Mums. Everyone stayed over except Auntie Lizzie because she had to get back for her dog. She gave the best gifts but apologised saying she hadn’t got out to buy anything this year so, it was a shock when she handed me a present. It was a pricey looking necklace. “They’re real. Not paste.” Excited by this my brother unwrapped his even larger parcel. It was heavy and had a bit of a smell. He said nothing but showed us her dog. I was dying to say: ‘at least you can stay over now.’ RICHARD Ho, ho, humbug! I hate Christmas gift shopping. It's not that I don't enjoy choosing and giving gifts, it's all the hassle that comes with it, and I'm not the most organised of people. I have friends who buy presents throughout the year, wrap and label them as they go along, and when December comes around, all the hard work is done. Not me though. I used to leave it to the last minute, and it was always a nightmare. Thankfully, I don't usually see family and friends until after Christmas, so now I buy most of my gifts in the January sales! SERENDIPIDY I grew up in a very annoying family. All my siblings could have been described as gifted. Between them, they excelled at sports, the arts and academically. Unlike me. You'd never describe me as sporty, I can't paint, write, sing, act or play music and I dropped out of school, failing every exam I took. I suppose you could say that, for me, it was an unhappy childhood: watching my brothers and sisters succeed and flourish, whilst I floundered. They're not succeeding now however. Not since I poisoned them all. I guess my cooking skills weren't up to much either! TOM Tis Da Season I don’t go Christmas gifts. My family and every close friend is a good 1000 miles away. I do have one person who I do un-Christmas gift with. Each year we head down to the local Walmart. Pick out a functional but not so fashionable leather wallet. You do this four decades you end up will a draw filled with wallets. Not bum you all out, but that friend die a few years back, so now truly I don’t do Christmas gift. I must admit look in the draw of wallet is a bit of gift when the snow falls NORVAL JOE The old man snarled at Billbert. “You’ve gifted the Five Star Sisters a reprieve, but it won’t last very long.” The door slammed open. Mrs. Weinerheimer charged in, shouting, “Gift is a noun. Not a verb.” His mother’s superpower of efficiency was more than the Black Knights control over Billbert and Sabrina could handle. As the tsunami dissipated to nothing, a tornado formed over the dilapidated cabin and ripped the feeble roof away. Mandy and Mrs. Weinerheimer rushed to Billbert while Bobbi grabbed Patrick’s arm. The tornado shrank, wrapped its tail around the Black Knight leader and whisked him away. PLANET Z Sometimes I like to buy things on Amazon for myself, get them gift wrapped, turn off notifications, and get blackout drunk. I don’t remember that I bought the things, and when they arrive I’m pleasantly surprised. Then I read the notes, and they’re horribly disturbing… downright creepy. How the Hell did they know this about me? Are they spying on me? Are they stalking me? Then I see the credit card statement and wonder if they hacked my account and stole my credit card. I call the card company to cancel my card and I change all of my passwords.

You know, I used to bite my nails. Don't remember a time when I didn't. Therapists told me that it was a form of self destruction. I said the suicide attempts were more important signs of that. I stopped biting my nails after Piper died. For some reason, promising a cat that I'd stop biting my nails worked. Aside from a rare pruning when I don't have a kit nearby, every few months or so, I've stopped. Of course, the cat's death provoked the last suicide attempt, but the gun jammed. Probably on a fingernail clipping, knowing how karma works.

When Bobby Brown died, he went to Hell. No waiting in line for Bobby. A bodyguard at the gates with a clipboard, unclipping a velvet rope gate and saying "This way, sir." A line of gorgeous women waited for him. With baseball bats. Bobby staggered along the line, suffering blow after blow, feeling bones crack, skin split, muscles tear, and blood flow and spurt and ooze. And at the end of the line, Whitney watched. And waited. At first, she enjoyed the spectacle. She knew Bobby was suffering. But she wanted her chance at revenge. Waiting. Waiting. And suffering, too.

It’s a sad thing when you have to bury your own child. The last time, I got a sore back, using a shovel in the back yard. So, that’s why I called around and the neighborhood showed up with shovels. One guy got a backhoe from a nearby road construction crew. That was nice of him. We made a block party out of it. With lemonade and cookies and music and a volleyball net. Everyone had a blast. “Same time next week?” I asked. The crowd cheered, and I patted the dirt down. And called the foster agency for another.

I have a good job. With a corner office on the top floor. And a good parking space to charge my car. Good perks: free lunches, fully-stocked breakroom with tea and snacks. I can work from home when I need to. But why would I want to? Well, with the pandemic, I need to. I still have my job. But I work from my living room, not my nice corner office. I don't drive my car to that spot with the charger. And any lunch or tea or snacks are bought on my own. That's okay for now, I suppose.

Every day, we have a team meeting. And when we go around the table... well, go around the list, since we're not at the same table while we work remotely... we say what we did yesterday, what we'll do today, and what blockers we have that need resolving. Then we leave our microphones on all day while working on whatever we're working on, saying something if we need assistance or want to demonstrate something. Repeat until it's time to go home... well... we're already home, so shut off the laptops and fire up the war games. When we truly collaborate.

I fired my doctor and made an appointment with a nearby clinic with testing and other departments that will be a lot more convenient for referrals. A year since my last checkup is way too long, especially with the cholesterol meds running out of refills. And weight gain. And other things. I should walk more. And eat less. I don't drink, in spite of what my former doctor thought. People lie about that kind of thing. But when beer and liquor cause kidney stones, you stop. Trust me on this. Or don't. But if you're my doctor, well, you're fired.

Richard Lisa Tura Lizzie Tom Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Gift LISA Cynthia's had a Fall It’s a tale as old as time: we were discussing the idea of assistive technology. Well, we mentioned things, they were refused. Luckily, Cynthia's house already had rails and ramps but the idea of wearing a medical assistance necklace was dead in the water. She really didn’t want a daily phone-call either, once a week on Friday was all she’d agree to. Cynthia fell again on Tuesday. She didn’t answer Friday’s call so we went over. There was smeared blood, as if she’d been dragged, across the carpet and Aunty Cynthia, dead, an arm stretch away from the pendant alarm. RICHARD Help! Gotta love assistive technology! I've ditched clunky, outdated and labour-intensive interfaces with my computer, in favour of technological solutions. I replaced my keyboard and mouse with speech recognition, and I don't even turn my monitor on, since my screen reader takes care of that. My Roomba does the carpets and the robot mower cuts the grass. Alexa takes care of boiling the kettle, ordering my groceries and controlling the heating. All I have to do is sit here. Even my chair helps me to my feet. Then I fall down, unable to get up, thanks to my atrophied muscles! TOM old When you reach a curtain age in life one needs a bit of Assistive Technology to get through the day. Take the Randick Pecker Electrostatic 360. A marvel of modern know-how. 11 setting (max level may cause death, see your doctor if you stop breathing) And there are lot of add-on packages for your package. The rainbow led array, the quadrophic micro speaker sub-woffers. There the AC-DC switch hitters add-on, the solo master unit. Powered by harmless hydro cells (do not store in a dark place for over a month, call 911 in the event of a fire). Use responsively. TURA Assistive technology ——— All technology is assistive— that's what it's for. But everything that assists you weakens you. Writing destroyed memory. Keyboards destroyed handwriting. Central heating, hot showers, and soft beds destroy resilience. Abundant food destroys health. Prosperity destroys reproduction. Instant communication foments strife. Peace flows inexorably into war. Teaching prevents learning, answers prevent thought, advice saps initiative, ease destroys character. And AI, the everything box, will destroy everything. For this is the iron law of success: that every success contains the seeds of its failure. The easier we make the path of life, the shallower the heights we scale on the way. SERENDIPIDY The torture business is hard, physical work, and it really takes a toll on your body. After a long day in the dungeons, your body aches and you feel utterly worn out. It's lifting all those heavy iron shackles, manhandling prisoners and hauling on ropes and chains all day. Chopping off heads is the worst. My dodgy shoulder isn't up to hefting that axe anymore. So I persuaded management to buy one of those new -fangled guillotines, and it's completely transformed my life. You can say what you like about the modern world and the march of progress. But assistive technology rocks! LIZZIE The little robot rolled around, following him. No, thank you. No need. You can roll back to your corner, he said holding his daughter's photo. The pain was unbearable. The robot tilted its head to look at the photo. He frowned. What do you want? The robot blinked twice. He stared at it in silence. He knew that blink. He looked closer. Is it you in there? The robot blinked twice. He rushed to read the gift card again. And there it was. It's just a robot, he thought, but it wasn't just a robot. That blink saved his life. NORVAL JOE Mandy and Bobby waited in the back seat of the car. The strange old lady patted her head three times. “This is the place. Billbert’s inside.”

Politicians lie. It's what they do. It's the job. Stacy said one thing before she ran for for office. Then she campaigned on the opposite. Claimed she never said what she said in the first place. After she won, she denied having said either. Then admitted it, but said she'd learned more since taking office. Evolving her position to suit the needs of the people. Journalists printed her lies about her lies. And fact checkers claimed it was all true. When she ran again, she touted her experience. But the only experience she had was with lying. The perfect politician.

Rufus Washington was the greatest standup comedian without actually standing up. He did his routines from a wheelchair, spinning tales from the ghetto on the other side of the tracks. Drug dealers, hookers, pimps, corner stores instead of grocery stores. Now, he traveled in a limo or a tour bus, with gorgeous assistants to help him into the chair... or bed... or the shower. When the limo got in a wreck, Rufus woke up in the hospital, screaming that he couldn't feel his legs. Turned out, he'd been faking his paralysis just for a schtick. Also, he'd faked being black.

Water maintenance today. They're redoing the mains so they don't have to shut down the mains every time they need to work on a single building's water pipes. I'm sure that whatever maintenance and improvements they do, every future break or problem will be upstream from the work they did. I've set aside some gallon jugs full of water for whatever... toilet flushing, tea, bathing a muddy cat. Some neighbors are angry at the cut-off, despite an email and text alert going out. It's 2022, people. If you're wanting paper notices on your door, maybe they should be eviction notices?

Spumco was the production company that produced Ren and Stimpy. Spumco animators not only drew the characters, but they produced, filmed, and edited them. You could say they were very hands-on with the production process. Spumco's founder, John Kricfalusi, was very hands on with young female artists. He'd invite them to Spumco to learn the business. More like monkey business. Nickelodeon fired Kricfalusi and Spumco... because of the level of violence in the cartoons. And Spumco was shuttered after lawsuits over royalties. After an avalanche of sexual harassment complaints, Kricfalusi retired from animation. Only because nobody would sponsor his projects.

Every weekend, there's a cultural festival in my city. This week, it's the Italian festival. Italian dances, Italian food, Italian poetry. Next week, it's the German festival. German dances, German food, German poetry. The week after, it's the Caribbean festival. Caribbean dances, Caribbean food, Caribbean poetry. And after that, it's the Japan festival. Japanese dances. Japanese food. Japanese poetry. There's no Palestinian festival. They grab bullhorns and scream at the local Israeli consulate. And synagogues. And community centers. And the Holocaust Museum. That's what they call culture? What a bunch of pricks. No wonder why they don't have a state.

Not only is Jackie the greatest hitter in the league, he's also the league's greatest pitcher. He also leads the league in steals. He's never been caught stealing. On days he's not pitching, he's catching, and calling great pitches for the pitchers. On the rare times someone makes it to first, he'll gun them down when they steal second. Someone injured? He's got medic skills. He'll get you back on your feet in no time. He also manages the team, putting together lineups no team wants to face. His parents are awfully proud of their sparkplug of a Little Leaguer.

Richard Lisa Tura Lizzie Tom Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Assistive technology RICHARD Unstuck My son developed an interest in model-making and, like so many of his hobbies, I ended up funding the majority of it, but I reckoned it was educational and keeping him off the streets, so I never complained. I'd be tasked with finding model kits, tools and supplies, paint - the standard fare for such activities. Then, one day, he asked for horse glue. It took me ages to find, and a very unpleasant trip to the local abattoir. "What's this?" He asked suspiciously. "Glue made from horses, like you wanted." "No… Stuff for gluing horses. For my model farm!" LISA Him As first dates go it was OK. We met. We ate. He invited me back to his. He made me pay my half of the cab fare. His flat was immaculate. Clinically clean. But, an overwhelming smell of what I can only describe as horse glue. How many red flags did I ignore? Reader, I married him. The first time I questioned his behaviour was in the dock years later, prompted by the barrister. You’d know him – his crimes had been front page news for so long he was a household name. That smell? I could still almost taste it. TURA Horse glue; evolution ——— For violin-making, marquetry, and carpentry, there's nothing like horse glue. But ever since petrol displaced horses it has been scarce and expensive. So we've bypassed evolution and genetically engineered the glue horse, Equus glutinosus. It produces so much glue that it accumulates in a reservoir under the skin of its belly. An implanted spigot allows it to be drained at regular intervals, a gallon at a time. When the horse must be retired, the whole body can be rendered for glue. Scarcely anything will be left of it afterwards. The flesh of Equus glutinosus is toxic and should be avoided. LIZZIE She waited for the bus. A bus drove by and she waited. Another bus drove by and she waited. Is the fare too much for you, dear, asked an old lady, trying to help. She shook her head. And waited. The bus stop had a small bench. She sat down, her legs so heavy. I'm so tired, she thought, so tired. Why are people screaming, their panic seeping through her haziness. Perhaps it was time, yes. But she had already done it. The bus stop was taken by the flames. It burns, it burns!, was the last thing she heard. TOM Skibidi Tree Friends The evolution of American English has taken a shape right hand turn. Due to algo gatekeeping Gen Alpha has had to speed up creating terms to stay one step ahead of the media wasteland. It is no longer about value-added content for kids to claim their voices; it is life blood of their cultural center. As a boomer it would be easy to discount the humor of the Alpha-s as pure nonsense. But that’s the point, the powers that-be are quite mad, so truly why spend the time to sift out deeper meaning. I say skibidi this. 6 - 7 SERENDIPIDY I take my job as senior product developer for the Spanish Inquisition very seriously. It's not only the evolution of new and novel methods of cruel and inhuman torture techniques, but I focus on the quality of the torture we dispense too. So, I've set up a focus group of 'customers' to gain helpful feedback. For example, it's not enough to simply scream 'It burns!" I want to know how badly? Is it a pain that lingers and grows worse over time? Can you give it a rating on a scale of one to ten? Torture: Continuously improving since 1478. NORVAL JOE Patrick held up a phone with a Facetime video of the wave building up to crash down on the Five Sisters Coven. As it approached the shore it had grown to fifteen feet in height. “Thanks for your help, Billy,” Patrick said. “That’s some real value added to Sabrina’s power.” “Don’t get too excited, Patty,” Billbert said with his hands still on Sabrina’s bare neck. “Sabrina is still the one in control.” The tidal wave stopped,

Siegfried and Roy were stage musicians who used lasers, glitter, and white suits to amaze millions of fans who came to watch them on their Las Vegas stage. They paraded their white tigers and exotic animals around, making them leap and disappear. Roy was attacked by one of their white tigers and took years to recover before returning to the stage. He died during the Coronavirus pandemic. The next year, Siegfried died of cancer. Magic? The truth is, anybody can make tigers disappear. Well, more like everyone can, really. When we destroy their habitats and drive the species to extinction.

President Roosevelt's face is on the dime because of The March of Dimes. Roosevelt had Polio, and The March of Dimes raised money for research to cure Polio. George Washington owned quarter horses, so his head went on the quarter. Abraham Lincoln said "A penny for your thoughts" to his wife before he was shot and killed, so his head is on the penny. Thomas Jefferson's life wasn't worth a plugged nickel, said his angry neighbor who argued over a border fence between their farms, so his head is on the nickel. Nobody uses all those other big, fancy coins.

Bob the Butcher was the best butcher around. He had the best meats, the best knives, the cleanest store, the most generous scales, and the biggest smile. Whatever you wanted, you could get. And you could get it any way you wanted. He could slice meat so thin, it only had one side. The sausages were blended to perfection. So fast with his knives, there never was a line, and the Take A Number dispenser still had the original 1 on it. He even had a bone for every dog. As he lured them into the back room for butchering.

The manager took the waitress aside. See the guy at table seven? The one with the wild hair. He's rich. He's famous. He's a good tipper. So, treat him nice. Okay, said the waitress. Famous last words, I suppose. The next day, she was found dead at the guy's mansion. The guy claimed she'd shot herself. Suicide? Accident? Just as long as it wasn't him. Because he was a success, and she was a failure. Guilty, they said. See the guy in cell seven? The one with the wild hair. He's rich. He's famous. And he's going to die here.

Angry leftists want people to stop using the term "Mother" and instead use the term "Birth Person." They think the term "Mother" is sexist and denigrates transgender people or something. By trying to change the term, they're denigrating Foster Mothers and Adoptive Mothers. People who step in and try to help a child who's been abandoned or given up by the person who gave birth to them. People trying to ruin the language can be some seriously stupid motherfuckers sometimes. And I mean motherfuckers. Not birthpersonfuckers. Although, to be fair, I should just call them fuckers and be done with it.