The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Richard Lizzie Lisa Serendipidy Norval Joe Tom Tura Planet Z The next topic is PICK TWO Silly hat, Brave, The old classic, Challenge, Passed out, Visual RICHARD "Hey! My latest post got a thousand likes" I cast Bob a look of deep derision. "Mate, that's nothing. Personally, if I get anything less than a million, I consider it a failure." Bob's face fell, "I don't know how you do it" he said, "how many did your last post get?" I thumbed through the screen until I found it, "Two point eight mil… not bad!" He shrugged. I gave him a friendly nudge, "Don't worry mate, you'll get there one day." I doubted it though, as I fired up the bot, gaining another ten thousand likes in seconds. LIZZIE Santa was furious. He had finished his route and there were still a thousand gifts in his sleigh. Who messed up? Santa paced left and right, as red as his outfit, throwing his hands in the air. What are the kids going to say? And the parents? They relied on him to deliver the right gifts to the right addresses. The ranting continued on and on until one of the elves whispered "They are for you from us all." Santa was speechless. He was used to cookies and milk, not real gifts and so beautifully wrapped too! So, he smiled. LISA The Secret to a Stress Free Christmas Supermarket Shop ‘Twas the weekend before Christmas and the supermarket felt post-apocalyptic: people grabbing food, shouting: it took a thousand years just to get down one aisle. A tinny tannoy played ‘I wish it could be Christmas Every Day’. I shopped and joined a queue: thankfully it didn’t seem long ‘til I reached the conveyer belt. The joy to be unloading my shopping was crushed when I realized I’d forgotten the fucking turkey. I ran back to discover, of course, they’d all gone. Back at the checkout so had my shopping: someone pretending it was theirs had simply paid and left. SERENDIPIDY I was in trouble again. Everybody else left, and I was alone with teacher. He beckoned me over to his desk, shaking his head. "Well, you've done it again. You've let your classmates down, you've let me down, but - most of all - you've let yourself down. What do you have to say for yourself?" I remained obstinately silent. "OK, if that's how you want to play it. Detention tonight, and a thousand lines: 'I must not bring knives to school, and I will never do it again.'" He was right. I wouldn't do it again. Tomorrow, I'd bring a gun. NORVAL JOE Billbert had just put on his pajamas when there was a knock at the door. Sabrina stood in the hallway and Linoliamanda watched from the guest room doorway. "I've told myself a thousand times today that I wasn't going to bother you, but can I sit by your bed?" Billbert sighed. "Let's go downstairs." When Sabrina sat next to Billbert and took his hand, Linoliamanda sat on the other side and hugged his arm. With a girl on one side in lace-edged satin, and the other in velvety cats, Billbert wondered how he had gotten into such a wonderful pickle. TOM It was a depression thing. When my Grandma died we had to go through a mountain stuff. We had to look through every book and magazine because she would slip different amount of money or stocks for ATnT between the pages. After major stiffing a patter emerged. Page numbers match bill denomination. In one book of old German fairy-tales I turn to page one thousand. There staring back at me was Grover Cleveland. It was in mint condition. The bill was a Gold Certificate a yellow boy. Somehow it had escaped Presidential Proclamation 2039 Executive Order 6073 and Executive Order 6102.Grandma was pretty shrewd. TURA Thousand ——— The one thousandth Christian, legend has it, was one Simon of Alessos. A year after the crucifixion, he chanced upon a group of Christians preaching in the marketplace. He was so overcome with emotion that he requested baptism, whereupon a great light shone down from heaven,

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. You won't find him in The Pirate Hall of Fame. He was banned after he was caught gambling on battles. "But I never gambled on battles I was in," whined George. The League of Pirates didn't care, and made the ban permanent. George would sit outside the Hall, just on the other side of the property line, and sign autographs and let fans take selfies with him. But, every now and then, he'd put on a disguise, and sneak in. It was either that, or piss on a tree.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Unlike the other pirates, he thought about things a lot. Too much, they said. George thinks too much about things. Dwells. Obsesses. He thought about pirates, and how they don't contribute anything to the world. In fact, they make the world worse. Resources wasted on security, weapons. He didn't make his sword. He didn't make his clothes. He didn't make anything. He lay in his bunk, staring at the wood above him, wondering if the world would be better off if the ship sunk without a trace. And wept.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. His 23andMe profile determined that he was only 25% pirate, suggesting that he could increase his percentage with exercise, practice, and dietary supplements. George got a gym membership, paying extra for the network of gyms so he could use them at whichever port the ship docked. And his doctor prescribed Placebo. "No generics," said the doctor. "I know that the name-brand is expensive, but it's worth it." George worked out, took the pills, and studied hard for a month. 23andMe and his doctor determined that he was 100% sucker.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. While sailing up the Mississippi, he captured two men on the run who claimed to be a duke and a king. He planned to ransom them, but it turned out they were wanted in Arkansas for fraud, so he turned in the con-artists for the reward. After that, he picked up two kids and a runaway slave, telling all kinds of crazy stories. The slave, he sold downriver. The smarter kid, he kept as a cabin boy. The wilder of the kids, he kicked overboard in two fathoms-deep water.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Don Diego de la Vega looked him over carefully. "But you might make a decent Zorro," he said, holding the black mask to George's face. "I don't speak Mexican," said George. "Let your sword speak for you," said Diego. After five hours of practice, George's sword mostly said "CLANG!" when it fell to the floor. "Sorry," said George, picking up the sword again. "I think that will buff out." Eventually Diego gave up, and put on the mask himself. George watched Zorro ride off, and then robbed his mansion.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. I'm not sure how he managed it, but he and his crew took over the starship Nostromo. As George was trying to send a ransom note to the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, a message came in and the Nostromo's crew began to wake up. "We'll strand them on that LV-426 thing," said George. That's where they came across a weird cavern and space ship, surrounded by bizarre eggs. "I bet we could make a fortune with one of these things," said George. An egg unfolded, and George screamed. Nobody heard him.

Lisa Lizzie Serendipidy Richard Norval Joe Tom Planet Z The next topic is Thousand LISA A Born Showman. The Star sobbed: she’d wanted to play Mary. So, the spotlight shone on three kings… One shuffled forward and muttered “Gold.” The next stepped forward and shuddered as he tried to keep giggles at bay. “Frankie’s Sense.” He nudged Frankie who was playing Joseph. Then, the third King. “I couldn’t find Myrrh. No one anywhere seemed to know what it was.” he said as he moonwalked across the stage. “So, I got this.” His hand held aloft; the spotlight swung towards it. “This…” He sashayed around the crib “This Gift Card can be used in every major retailer in Bethlehem.” NORVAL JOE When they entered Billbert's house they found Sabrina in the family room surrounded by shopping bags. She looked up, her eyes bright. "Look Billbert. We bought so many clothes they gave us a $25 gift card." Her eyes clouded over when she saw Linoliamanda. "What's she doing here?" Defensive, Billbert said, "Mandy's dad's in a coma and they don't know when he will wake up. So, I said she could stay here. There are two beds in the guest room, you know." Sabrina sighed, holding up a lacy sleep set. "Beggars can't be choosers. She can wear the cat pajamas." SERENDIPIDY I turned over the next card in the sequence, the six of pentacles. "Ah", I murmured, "the gift card". His face lit up in expectation as I continued. "It seems you may receive something of value in the future; I cannot say what that may be, but it could make you a very wealthy man!" "Tell me more" he begged. "First, cross my palm with silver… plenty of silver!" He anxiously paid up, and I turned the next card, which elicited a gasp. "Death! How unfortunate. Let's hope your gift comes soon, and you live long enough to enjoy it!" RICHARD — Gift card — It was the usual pointless question. "So what do you want for Christmas?" Every year the same irritating question, and my answer, the same as always: "I don't know. There's nothing I want or need." It drew the usual, predictable response. "You're hopeless dad, at least give us some ideas." "Just get me a gift card then." And so, come Christmas Day, that's exactly what I got: A gift card, just like last year, and the year before that, as far back as I can remember. And, as always, it ended up unused in the drawer with all the others. TOM That is remembered lives. Gail was Linda’s matron of honor. As a courtesy I volunteer to take wedding photos. The groom, Jack Darkhand, gave me an Amazon Gift Card. Never cashed it in. Lived in my wallet till my wallet was stolen. While I still retained ownership, for time to time I’d take it out and give it a look. Did that for his first child, then his second. Did that when he got sacked from a tech job in Seattle for have XY chroms. Took it out during his wake. Show it to Linda, told her I think I’m just going to keep this. LIZZIE She loved adventure! She hated books. But the damn gift card said "Books". At the bookstore, she looked lost. So, the bookseller said, "We have some mystery packs." Well, OK... "A mystery pack, it is." When she opened the pack, it was... let's just say a surprising pack. You had to call a series of phone numbers to get the pick-up locations. The first one was called "Whispers Among the Gravestones" and the pick-up point was the local abandoned cemetery. Who would've thought that books could be so interesting after all? She would take some pepper spray, just in case. PLANET Z I always thought it strange when my father would give out store gift cards as tips instead of cash. Until I saw him grabbing a stack of them at Target and putting them in his pocket. Without activating them at the register. Technically, it's not illegal to hand them out. Maybe it's a form of fraud if he's claiming they have value. He did this for years, handing out worthless cards.

He always had to be Mr Right. Always holding the moral high ground, always the one to win an argument, never one to back down or give way. He was arrogant, uncompromising and incapable of admitting defeat. It was these qualities that attracted me to him. Don’t misunderstand me; it wasn't that I like those sort of character traits - no, I loathe them with a passion, but he was precisely the sort of person that I love to put firmly in their place. And that place, was six feet underground. You really can't say I was in the wrong. Right?

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He woke up with a bandage on his head. "Oh, you're awake," said a nurse. "You've had quite a nasty bonk on the head." He looked around. He was in a hospital ward with other bandaged patients, all laying still in bed. "Oh, okay," he said. "Them too?" "Yes," said the nurse. "And it's time for another." She pulled out a large mallet and bonked George on the head. George fell unconscious and had a nice dream about sailing. He looked forward to his next bonk on the head.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He wasn't very good with a cutlass, but he was the master of the sofa cushion. "PILLOWFIGHT ME!" he'd shout at his opponent, tossing aside his cutlass and dropping a sofa cushion at their feet. "I DARE YOU, COWARD!" When the other pirate threw down their cutlass and picked up the pillow, George would draw his pistol and shoot them in the head. He'd pick up his cutlass and the cushions. Then he'd put the cushions back on the captain's sofa. With the bloodstained sides facing down, of course.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. To make up for his shortcomings, he used humor as a defense mechanism. He started with silly nose-glasses, which distracted his enemy long enough for him to escape. Or he'd wear a fight wig, or ask his opponent to sniff his squirting flower. Over time, he refined his humor, and he had the British Navy rolling on the desks, clutching their sides from the pain of laughing so hard. He always walked away with the loot, even when he slipped on a banana peel and fell into the water.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. The voices in his head told him that all of the time. "For fuck's sake, stop it!" he shouted. "Oh, okay," said the rest of the crew coming out from behind the sails. "Sorry." George blinked. "All this time, I thought the voices were in my head. But they were you?" "Yes," said the crew. "We thought it was a joke, you know." George sighed and went back to his bunk. "KILL THEM ALL!" said the voices in George's head. "Ahhh, that's more like it," said George, falling asleep.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. So he was given all of the worst tasks and chores on the ship. Every few months, the crew unloaded, grounded, and turned the ship over for a careening. While the rest of the crew partied on the beach, George spent days scraping barnacles and seaweed off of the hull. "This is fun!" George happily lied. "I'm so glad I have this task all to myself!" Curious, other pirates asked if they could help, but they were too drunk and passed out. George sighed and went back to work.

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate. Every time the full moon came out, the next day he would wake up covered in the blood and guts from all of his murdered crewmates. It made him wonder if he was a werewolf. It kept happening over and over with every ship that he ended up on. The truth was, George was a werewolf. But he didn’t slaughter his crewmates with his teeth and claws. He killed them with his really bad cooking. Apparently, his signature full moon five alarm chili is a weapon of mass destruction.

Lizzie Richard Norval Joe Tom Planet Z The next topic is Gift Card LIZZIE Mr. Right lived in the lighthouse across the street. The place was hideous and no one ever visited it. Mr. Right was the typical know-it-all. When proven wrong, he'd blatantly lie. Everyone hated him, everyone except his neighbor who'd often ask to see the gallery because, as he said, "he enjoyed the fresh air". And he tried, he tried many times. Mr. Right knew the neighbor wanted the lighthouse. Some plan to increase the flow of tourists and become the mayor. It turned out, Mr. Right wasn't Mr. Stupid so he never stood alone on that balcony with Mr. Ambitious. RICHARD - Mister Right - She peered at me critically over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses. "It's Mister, right?" I was confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand the question." She sat back and sighed, folding her arms. "Your personal pronouns! You need to tell me how to address you. I've learned the hard way not to make assumptions!" "Ah, right", I nodded, "yes, it's Mister. Mister is just fine." She turned back to her keyboard, and tapped a few keys. "We're done." I stood up, and glanced at her name badge, "Well, thank you, Miss Philpot." "It's Mister!" She snapped, with a frown. TOM A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step Men are searching the world for the perfect woman. Women not so much, with a choice between the perfect haircut or the perfect Mr. Right, you known in your heart, a reasonable quaff, wins hands down. It would be great if Mr. Right was a hairdresser, not likely. Wasn’t that the central plot of the film Shampoo. Let’s get back to that perfect Mr. Right crossing the globe in search of Miss Right, as always, don’t rule out Mrs. Right. Hell it’s American, it’s what we do. The weary Mr. Right will wander before her without her taking a step. NORVAL JOE Walking along the dark street, Linoliamanda suddenly asked, "Why were you staring at those teenage volunteers?" Not realizing she had noticed, he stammered, "Well. I guess I was thinking. Those girls are so pretty, they would never notice a scrawny kid like me." "Do you think I'm pretty?" she asked. Then he really stammered, "Um. Yeah. Sure. Why?" "Daddy's older than Mother and he said he's amazed that Mother would love an ugly old man like him. And she says, she always knew he was Mr. Right." Linoliamnada stopped Billbert. "The right girl will always love you, no matter what." SERENDIPIDY He always had to be Mr Right. Always holding the moral high ground, always the one to win an argument, never one to back down or give way. He was arrogant, uncompromising and incapable of admitting defeat. It was these qualities that attracted me to him. Don’t misunderstand me; it wasn't that I like those sort of character traits - no, I loathe them with a passion, but he was precisely the sort of person that I love to put firmly in their place. And that place, was six feet underground. You really can't say I was in the wrong. Right? PLANET Z Every time we come across a mass grave, we excavate the site and sort out the bodies. The few with identification, we send to the agents to contact any remaining family for handling and burial. The many without, we take DNA samples and cross-reference genetic markers with genealogy databases. Most families ended up in the same mass graves, so there's a lot of dead ends. There's not much money and jewelry left to loot. The regime cleaned them out pretty thoroughly. After all is said and done, we put the bodies back in the site and place a stone monument.

After I finish laundry, I hang it. No, I don't hang it up. I literally hang it. I put all my laundry on a chair. Then, I tie a noose at the end of a rope, throw the other end over a tree branch, and tie it down. When a crowd gathers, I put the laundry in the noose and ask if it has any last words before I kick the chair out from under it. The laundry jerks around a bit at the end of the rope before it stops swinging. You shouldn't have rustled all those cattle, laundry.

It's not easy being an imaginary friend. Especially to a kid they've pumped full of drugs. I feel a bit guilty, since it's my fault they're doing this to him. Seeing him out in the playground, talking to me. The teachers were concerned. The other parents at the school. After that, his parents. And finally the doctors. They tried therapy, then went to the pills. Sometimes, the pills work, because there's a jump in time for me. But I still come back. Maybe he'll talk to me. Try to hug me. And other times, he covers his ears and screams.

I want to clean out the big closet. Got a lot of stuff I don't need in it. Trash bags full of papers that aren't important anymore. Boxes for things that probably won't need boxing up ever again. And the boxes are too big to let the cats play in. Or, I suppose, live in if I decide to quit my job and become a bum. I'm a little too old to make a play house out of them. It's strictly sofa cushions at my age. Get the hell away from my fort. Or I'll burn down your cardboard box.

Back in the day, you had Sammy and Dean and Frank. And Debbie and Elvis and all the headliners. When they were done for the night, they went to see Don. And Don would rip into all of them, and they laughed and laughed and laughed. The manager would work the line, picking people out to fill front row seats. Then, he'd tell Don: I got a fat guy, an ugly woman, a skinny Japanese guy. "You got any Germans?" asked Don. The manager nodded, and Don picked up his microphone and walked to the stage. And the music began.