The 100 Word Stories Podcast

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He heard that the great pirate Blackbeard put gunpowder in his rum, so he thought that if he put gunpowder in his rum, that would make him great, too. George snuck into the ship's powder hold and grabbed a bag of powder. The problem was, he'd grabbed a bag of saltpeter that hadn't yet been mixed with sulfur and charcoal. When George poured it into his rum, well, let's just say that George wasn't very good at something else. "No wonder why Blackbeard doesn't have any kids," said George.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Which is why he would get excited when the captain would take the whole crew to an off-site team-building fun day. "No plundering and pillaging!" cheered George. "Yay!" The last time, they went to a bowling center, which also had pool tables, darts, and other activities. The problem was, the pirates with peglegs couldn't bowl because of the shoes, the pirates with hook hands couldn't shoot pool, and the pirates with eyepatches couldn't throw darts. Tempers flared, fights broke out, and they ended up plundering and pillaging the place.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He also wasn't a very good poet. He'd write his poetry, put on a beret, and sneak into coffeehouses and dives to read them. People would smoke their joints, sip their cappuccinos, and snap their fingers. Nobody would judge. Everyone got the same snaps. So, George didn't know he wasn't a very good poet, and he had no incentive to improve. Nobody took him under their wing to teach him about good poetry. And he got so full of himself, he didn't listen to anybody else's work to learn.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. That didn't matter much to Werner Herzog, the famous documentary filmmaker. He followed George around with a camera, capturing the life of a typical pirate at sea. Or, in George's case, in the sea, as he had a habit of tripping and falling overboard. When the ship encountered a cargo vessel, ripe for plunder, the only two men who weren't fighting were Werner and George. "Just sharpening my cutlass," said George, drawing his sword against a whetstone over and over, looking over the rail nervously at the battle's progress.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He spent most of his day sitting in a deck chair, petting the ship's cat while looking out at the ocean. The ship's cat was supposed to catch and eat the mice and rats in the hold, but it preferred to lay in George's lap and sleep. Every now and then, George would swab the deck. The cat would curl up in George's deck chair and nap. After George finished swabbing the deck, George would pick up the cat, sit in his chair, and pet the cat some more.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Instead of fighting and looting and pillaging, he'd rub his eyes for a while, and then marvel at the strange colors and patterns that danced before his eyes. "If you keep doing that, you'll go blind," said the captain. "That's what my mother said about other things," said George. "And my eyesight is fine." Pretty soon, the entire crew were rubbing their eyes, and watching the strange colors and patterns dance around. Well, except for the captain. Someone had to steer the ship and watch for vessels to raid.

Tom Richard Lizzie Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is PICK TWO Aviator, Circuit, Twice, Chamber, Squirrel TOM Really Old Stuff Of the epoch of earth history, no age in more disputed then the Moretaish. Few fossils recorder have been found, say for the long legged Taradiddle. And even the Taradiddle comes with it share of mystery. We are not sure if she was a mammal or a proto reptile. It appears they travel in moderate herds, but often broke off into small family units. Oddly they might be the first animal to bury their dead. Vast Taradiddle gravesite are found in central Europe. Currently the University of London has an ongoing dig in Turkey. Summer internships are available through Ensco. RICHARD --- The Ballad of Tara and Jake --- I once knew a girl named Tara Diddle She played in a band on the fiddle Off to one side, never middle So she could nip out quickly If she needed to piddle I knew a guy by the name of Jake He was in a band: his music was fake He wasn't plugged in, and the sound was on tape Until the crowd found out And threw him in a lake Tara and Jake got married one day I was invited, the organ to play No Wedding March, I'm sorry to say But their greatest hits, to my dismay! LIZZIE It was official. He left her. How would she face the family? The friends? The people at the tennis club? So, she told everyone that he would be away on business.... for a year. That should be enough to find someone and not look like a total loser. And then she got his text: I loved you at your darkest. She was confused. Darkest? She always wore white because of that positive energy crap. And if he meant her insecurities, she had none. Note to self: buy horrid new tennis skirt model that everyone was now wearing. At your darkest... SERENDIPIDY Taradiddle Forest may have an amusing name, but the reality is that it's no laughing matter. People fear to venture into its depths and speak in hushed tones of the rumours that surround it. There is talk of demons, and that the trees whisper fearful secrets as their leaves rustle in the wind. Stray from the pathway they say, and you will never find your way home: condemned to wander ever deeper into the darkness, never to return again. So, nobody ever ventures into the forest. Except me. I live there. It's really peaceful, and it keeps unwelcome visitors away. NORVAL JOE Billbert and Bobbi stared at each other for an embarrassingly long moment, as if each expected the other to say something profound. Instead, they simultaneously turned away and headed to their classes. Billbert found his seat in English as the teacher wrote a long word on the white board. She smiled. "You each have a dictionary on your desk. Without using your phones, look up the word, Taradiddle, and use it in a complete and coherent sentence. Halfway through the letter 'R', it hit him. Sabrina was usually in every one of his classes and she wasn't at her desk. PLANET Z They built a Walmart a few years ago, and all the small specialty stores closed one by one. A few holdouts remain along the main road, and they’re pretty convenient for walking in and picking something up. There’s a specialty grocery that has homemade stuff, as opposed to the stuff in the big store. A few coffee houses, a few chain stores. When one location closes in the strip mall, it takes a while for something else to take place. There’s a new tea house opening up soon. Although I prefer sipping tea on my own patio when it rains.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. When the captain asked him about Net Neutrality, George looked at the netting in the cargo hold and wondered what was so neutered about it. "It just holds things in place when the seas are rough, right?" said George. "I'm not sure why so many people are so up in arms about this stuff." He tugged on the netting a bit to make sure that the cargo was secure, and he smiled proudly. The captain made a note not to ask George about complicated social and political issues anymore.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. His grip wasn't very strong, so he was always dropping his cutlass during swordfights. And when he fired his pistols, the recoil would kick them up and out of his hands. He tried to tape his sword and pistols to his hands, but that messed up his aim and made it hard to reload the pistols. The captain gave George a boomerang. George threw it, and it circled around and hit George in the back of the head, knocking him out. "Good," said the captain. "He's such a complainer."

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. He was such a poor pirate, people mistook him for many things other than a pirate. One gay couple mistook him for a baker, and they demanded that he bake them a wedding cake. George refused, because he wasn't a baker. The couple sued him, and it went all the way up to the Supreme Court. George lost, so he bought a cake from a professional bakery. When he delivered it, the couple mistook him for a stripper. George more than made up for his legal fees in tips.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Other pirates would get tattoos, but George was afraid of needles. George bought boxes of temporary tattoos, reapplying them every morning. One morning, he got a little mixed up, and he'd applied the tattoos in the wrong places. "Didn't you have the anchor on your arm and the mermaid on your chest yesterday?" said the captain. George shrugged it off, but when he went to sleep that night, his shipmates found the boxes and completely covered George with tattoos. George spent hours scrubbing his skin with a pumice stone.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. One day, he played his guitar along with his daily routine. He was pretty good at it, and his shipmates liked it, and it boosted their morale. George recruited a few shipmates to back him up, a few guitars, bass, keyboards, and drums. Backup singers and a horn section, too. Lights, smoke machines, props, and the sound system required more manpower. Pretty soon, the ship was a floating psychedelic rock jam experience. They soon gave up and returned to piracy because it was much more reputable than being musicians.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. The captain paired up George with a more experienced pirate to learn from. The mentor tried to help George learn from his mistakes and get better. But after years of frustration, he ended up covering for George's mistakes. The mentor recommended that George try meditation. "Light a candle and focus on the flame," he said. So, George did. And he nearly set the ship on fire. The captain picked up a bucket of sand and put out the fire. "I'll get you a battery-powered LED candle, okay?" he said.

Tom Richard Lizzie Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Taradiddle RICHARD --- Like, subscribe, comment --- Like, subscribe, comment… the mantra of the internet. But, what if I don't like, don't wish to subscribe and have nothing at all to say? Should I leave a comment anyway, explaining that I've no comment to add? Therein lies the paradox -if I really don't like it, then I really should say so. If I don't, then my protests will remain unheard, but if I leave a comment -even a negative one- it'll just boost the algorithm. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. So, what do you think I should do? Please, just leave a comment below! LIZZIE He wondered what that was. A pseudo kebab featuring the most unusual looking food? Upon inquiring about what exactly was being cooked, he realized that some strange items had indeed been stabbed and were merrily burning away. As far as he could see (no pun intended), there were eyes mixed with a few fingers and something that resembled a dragon wing, that is if there were dragons. He wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but he was hungry and he could just close his eyes. He did. Let's just say the following week was not the easiest week. SERENDIPIDY I'm on a drive to improve customer service. I've never been a fan of 'the customer is always right' philosophy, but I like to keep my sponsors happy. A contented customer equals repeat business, and that has to be a good thing. So, I've introduced customer comment cards -you know, the ones with smiley faces- to provide feedback on my service. And, I'm pleased to say, that it's all been very positive. So, I'm extending the scheme to my other 'stakeholders', and now, I always leave a comment card with the corpse. Unfortunately, the cops never fill the things in. TOM Once upon a time Imagine if fairy-tales had a comment option during a bedtime story? Well actually they do. Peppered with requests for water and repeated trips to the toilet. The more precocious the young-N the more complex the comment or in the case of the uber precocious a running commentary. Mix in the vitriolic orbit of the internet which has seeped into the dearest of infants we have a problem, Houston. Take Goldilocks, Tim’s comment: deep imperialistic overtones. And Sally’s comment on Little Red Riding Hood in a post QAon landscape. What ever happen to: and they all lived happily ever after? Whatever. NORVAL JOE The red haired girl charged forward and pushed the bully in the middle of the back. "Hey Meat Head. Your parole officer is looking for you." When he turned to face her, Billbert noticed she was as tall as the brute. He sneered at her. "Shut up, Bobbi. We don't need comments from the peanut gallery." Bobbi smiled. "I'll tell mom you're bullying again." Billbert saw the family resemblance, then; broad shoulders, sturdy build, red hair, and freckles; though Bobbi was much prettier. "Patrick Yaan. Please come to the principal's office," came over the intercom. Bobbi waved her brother goodbye. PLANET Z Miller was warned early in his influencer career never to read the comment section. Hire someone to do that for you, said his mentor. Let them deal with the public while you just do what you do. Every now and then, Miller’s assistant would send an email with a few comments worth responding to on the channel. As artificial intelligence advanced, Miller handed the comment section to a bot. And he crafted an avatar to read his writing on the channel. As long as he kept writing, that is. He gave that up when he found a decent writing bot.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Still, it's better to be lucky that good, right? Which is how George, having been bound, gagged, and dumped overboard by his shipmates, found himself on a tropical beach. A strange warrior in a grass skirt and holding a spear gestured at George to follow. So, George followed him to his village. As best George could determine, he was going to be the guest of honor at a feast. "Thank you, I could use a bath," said George, as they dropped him into a pot full of boiling water.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. Compared to the greenhorns that the captain had recruited recently, George was a seasoned seadog. Hipsters with fedoras, neckbeards, and thick black glasses. "Pirates are so retro, man," said one of them, sipping his soy mocha latte. Another was trying to dance to the crew's sea shanties. "This is so much better than vinyl." Prety soon they got the hang of sea life, and surpassed George's skills in every way. So, George tried to emulate them, and failed. "MANBUN OVERBOARD!" shouted a hipster, rescuing George by his hemp belt.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. After several failed attempts to pillage, loot, and plunder, George consulted a marketing firm to work up customer personas so he could better target his pirating services. The firm returned a report that laid out generic personalities that George should target, such as merchant ship owners, small badly-defended ports, and sailors on Spanish galleons full of gold. George thanked the marketing firm, and then looted their offices. "But we didn't list marketing firms in the report!" they said. George shrugged, and rolled their color copier back to his ship.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. You know, like how Bob Uecker was a mediocre baseball player. At least Bob was in beer commercials, movies, television shows, and did play-by-play for the Milwaukee Brewers. George was a pirate. Nothing else. He tried to do play-by-play for his pirate ship, but the crew found it really annoying when he narrated their battles. He'd rattle of statistics and other nonsense as they fought and he sat. "I must be in the front row!" George said, as two rather large pirates picked him up and threw him overboard.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. If George were arrested for his crimes on the high seas, people wouldn't be able to pick him out of a lineup. "Number three," the sea captain says. "That's a circus clown," says the detective. "Try again." "Six?" "There isn't a number six." "Oh, wait... I know... number 201." "That's the room number on the door." Exasperated, the detective dismisses the lineup, and George is released. To go back to his ship, free to be a pirate once again. Knowing, that if he ever gets caught, not to worry.

George was a pirate, but he wasn't a very good pirate. His shipmates drank rum and grog, while he maintained a wine cellar in a corner of the ship's hold. He kept it hidden from the others, stacking up a pile of old sails and crates. Every now and then, someone would spot George tossing an empty bottle over the rail into the sea. "Oh, sorry," he'd say, "that's the last one. If only you'd been around when I opened it." One day, they took heavy cannonfire, and George's precious wine collection was smashed to bits. George wept for days.