The 100 Word Stories Podcast

Lisa Richard Serendipidy Norval Joe Tom Planet Z The next topic is PICK TWO Scorpion, Walking on eggshells, Turn, High pitched, News, Craftsmanship RICHARD -- In the eye of the beholder -- "Well, really! Do you mind?" The exclamation caught me by surprise, I turned around, white stick exploring the floor between us. "Oh!" An embarrassed pause. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realise." I cocked my head slightly, "My apologies, I seem to have startled you, miss. Is there something wrong?" In a friendlier tone, she replied. "It's just that, well I think you may have taken a wrong turn… Not your fault, at all, of course!" "Oh?" "Well, this is actually the ladies' changing room." I apologised profusely and allowed her to escort me out. She really believed I was blind! SERENDIPIDY How do I deal with it? I suppose it's really just a state of mind. Call it professional detachment if you will. I guess it's no different to being a medic, or cop or doing any of those jobs that exposes you to terrible experiences. You don't allow yourself to become emotionally involved, you concentrate on the job at hand, and don't let it get in to your psyche. Then again, who am I kidding? I don't have to deal with it, because I thoroughly enjoy what I do! But, you won't enjoy it, when I do it to you! LISA A Meeting of Minds Derek wasn’t traditionally good looking, but he was a successful hypnotist and that had brought considerable wealth. Heidi was a supermodel. The most beautiful face of 1972, 73 and 74. She had a body to match but no personality. Heidi was attracted to Derek’s wealth initially. Then he did his finest work: making her attracted only to him, a mind control trick that would ensure she never looked again at another man - she was completely under his spell. Derek aged well; unlike Heidi. She became a bitter hateful woman. And as he’d ensured, she never looked at another man again. TOM SomeThing It wasn’t Billy wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. As a child he had a fever that messed up his hearing. What he heard often seem by other as quite amusing. Take his belove Grandma. She would tell him to Mind his manners. Billy heard Mine his manners. Confusing how you could execute this, Billy did his best to compile. He had quite a deep hole in the backyard, before Grandma looked over the edge and declare that his manners were quite exemplary. Later in life Billy founded the Manners Mining Company who hold the mining right on Mars. NORVAL JOE The butler walked into the waiting room and seeing them sitting along the wall, approached. "Is there any word on Mr. Withybottom, madam?" "No John," she said wearily. "We don't know how long it will take to get results. Why don't you take Linoliamanda and head home." "Really Mother. I don't mind waiting here with you," Linoliamanda said with a sideways scowl at the butler. "If it gets late, I can walk to Billbert's house, and his parents can take me home." Perkins looked unhappy but nodded. "As you wish, Madam. I will wait for your call at the manor." PLANET Z They say that the last thing that goes through a bug's mind when it hits the windshield is its ass. You could say the same about Andy Parker, the first man to ride on a rocket sled. After multiple experiments with cadavers and animals, the scientists wanted to test rapid acceleration and deceleration on a living human. The staff who volunteered drew straws, and Andy got the short straw. The ink was barely dry on his contract and life insurance policy when the rockets fired up and the brakes were released. What his actual last thoughts were, nobody will know.

They say that the grass is always greener on the other side. The other side of what? The other side of The Force? Well, the good side of the force was in the Jedi Temple at Coruscant. There wasn't much grass on that planet. Nor was there much grass on Mustafar, Darth Vader's hideout. What about The Far Side? Gary Larsson drew it in black and white during the week, and only the Sunday editions were in color. It turns out, they were talking about that movie The Blind Side. Man, the grass at that rich private school was green.

We have an awesome back yard and patio, but the neighbor's dog stares through the chain link fence. When it does this, it looks creepy and judgmental. So, we replaced the chain link fence with a solid wooden fence. The dog still finds a way to get up on the fence and stare at us. And it looks even creepier. No matter how high we build the fence, the dog still manages to get up there and stare at us. We moved to another neighborhood. No back yard. No patio. No fence. And, thankfully, no creepy dog staring at us.

There's a difference between not liking a symbol and not liking the cause it represents. I find the Isle of Man flag to be ugly, with its radial and rotational symmetry of freaky feet. But as for the Isle of Man itself, I really don't know much about it, nor do I care to learn. Similarly, the Nazi flag also has rotational symmetry in the symbol. It's nasty. It's sharp. And the people who use it are awful people. I don't care if it's an inverted symbol for peace. So, Clarence, these cookies are delicious, but I'm rejecting your design.

All the way back to the third grade, Miss Othmar's class, you could see how Marcie would look at Peppermint Patty, calling her Sir. Kids would talk, do horrible things. You know how kids can be. Patty may have been a tough tomboy in grade school, but when she got to high school, she started to blossom. Marcie wasn't cool with this. Patty went on hormone blockers, had her breasts surgically removed. She was scheduled for the bottom surgery when she found Marcie making out with Charlie Brown under the bleachers. Patty killed them both with a field hockey stick.

I'm a technical writer. But every now and then, I get asked to write marketing copy. I'm not a marketing writer. I'm a technical writer. My mindset is explaining things and teaching, not selling and promoting things. The marketing people say give it a try. So, I do. And it's awful. But we work on it together, and it comes out not half bad. We do this again and again, and I feel myself change. I fall to the floor, my body contorting. The marketers howl at the full moon. And I, the newest member of the pack, howl along.

If The New Yorker weren't horribly biased, I'd imagine a cartoon where a reporter is poking her head into an editor's office and asking if President elect is one word, two words, or hyphenated, and you see through the glass that the editor has hung themselves. But The New Yorker is nowhere near that self-aware or capable of self-deprecation humor. Hubris is funny, until it happens to you and your narrow world-view. Besides, I'm sure some cartoonist has already tried to submit a cartoon like this. No idea if the editor hanged themselves, though. But would you really be surprised?

Tangent Lisa Lizzie Richard Serendipidy Norval Joe Tom Planet Z The next topic is Mind RICARD — ​Bloods — I swear that when you reach a certain age, it gives doctors a licence to prescribe a whole range of medicines they've been itching to give you for years. So they ask you to pop in for a blood test. A simple blood test. Nothing to worry about - just routine. Give us a call in a week and we'll have your results. Those results, once you reach that magic age, open the floodgates to a catalogue of woes - diabetes, heart problems, cholesterol, cancer… You name it, and you've probably got it. Not me. I switched my son's samples for mine. TANGENT The world was due for cancer screening. A century prior, it had barely survived. From the fallout, symptoms were documented, and as the years of testing passed, the world was content that it would not return. Attention turned to its autoimmune disease. If left untreated, fever would come, and kill. A screening was missed while the autoimmune treatment plan was drafted, but the symptoms were minor, and the world was content. The cancer, it turns out, had returned. Its presence accelerated the autoimmune disease, and the fever had started. The world is dying, but it has survived worse. Have hope. LISA Six Months It wasn’t the result anyone would have wanted. But there it was, unquestionable. She shunned all treatment feeling if it was her ‘time to go’ she should leave with grace. She contemplated speeding things up but didn’t want to leave anyone a mess. She swapped a Netflix series for a brisk walk, a pint for a green smoothie, stopped smoking and started yoga. So, sixth months turned to sixteen, turned to sixty. She survived decades; then died as she crossed the road whilst engrossed in an article about a blood test mix up in her area, all those years ago. SERENDIPIDY To give them their due, they were very thorough. They took swabs, they dusted for prints, they took hundreds of high resolution photographs. And they found nothing. Just the blood test to go. I held my breath, and waited as they sprayed Luminol over every surface they could find. They turned on the blacklights… And still found nothing. Not a smear, not a spot, not even the slightest indication of blood anywhere. I'd done my job well. And, if they couldn't find any sign of the murders, I was pretty certain there was no chance of them finding the bodies! LIZZIE She was in the tub. Went for a swim, someone joked. The blood test was inconclusive. Are you sure it was a person? He nodded. Melted in that tub, someone joked. It wasn't funny. Where did he get the blood from then? The wall. Plenty of it. The acid took care of the rest. And now? Now, it was in their hands. That's why you're cops, he said, I'm just the coroner. Well, the blood wasn't hers. It was his. That damn pocket knife he used to slit her throat first. Good thing no one noticed that he kept saying she. NORVAL JOE Linoliamanda, her mother and Billbert waited in the front lobby of the hospital while they admitted Mr. Withybottom. The nurse told them it would be an hour or more while he got his blood test, xrays, and possibly an MRI of his head, so they might as well get comfortable. A group of teenage volunteers surrounded a small table, chatting, and waiting for their turn to push a patient or carry flowers to a room. They were mostly girls and Billbert considered how some were very shapely, like Sabrina. While others had hardly any shape at all, more like Linolamanda. TOM Often discovery in less than amazing. It was discovered in remote corner of Anatolia. Bronze Gears festooned with Lapis lazuli. After cursor inspection a sweeping claim was made, this was the world’s oldest safe. X-rays of the interior while clearly showing all the working part didn’t offer a clue how to open. In the heart of the safe was signal sheet of parchment.

So, the US Postal Service can deliver hundreds of fliers, pamphlets, letters, campaign posters, and other junk mail from every candidate, PAC, voter's organization, and special interest, but they can't deliver my ballot on time? They claim it's because of systemic delivery delays. But if there's systemic delivery delays, why is every flier, pamphlet, letter, campaign poster, and other junk mail being delivered before Election Day? If there's delays, this crap would still be arriving after Election Day. Because it's been delayed. Everybody lies on Election Day. And the lies are the only things that get delivered with any certainty.

So, the pandemic closed all the theme parks and the movie theatres. People got laid off across the board. But mostly the hourly workers, the people who do their best to help you forget the world for a while. Waiters and waitresses, hotel staff, entertainers, shopkeepers. The executives, on the other hand, gave themselves raises and retention bonuses. All while begging for government bailouts. They put together their reports to give to the investors. All while the laid-off workers lined up at food pantries and toy donation lines. Were they longer than the lines at the gates to the parks?

When the Union needed a place to bury all those dead soldiers during the Civil War, Lincoln had them commandeer Robert E. Lee's house and estate so the enemy general could never go home. Over the years, hundreds and thousands of soldiers and politicians and important people are buried there. And then there's the Kennedys. Three alcoholic, drug-addicted date-rapists and the money-grubbing socialite that was already halfway out the door when the bullet splattered her husband's brains across the limousine in Dallas. An eternal flame burns at the site. The flames are much, much hotter where their eternal souls reside.

Whoever shot Ben and threw his body into the canal, we'll never know. He fell with a splash. Ben floated downstream, and when he reached the High Bank Locks, the lockmaster took out Ben's wallet, charged Ben the toll, and allowed Ben to float further downstream. The lockmasters at Charm Fields, Fenton, and Greenmoor did the same. Ben had just enough to get him to the river, and tourists took photos of him as he passed through Port Burke. Eventually, the cops got involved. Fishing him out of the water and arresting him for running the canal without a permit.

When Freddy bought cigarettes, he showed his ID. When Freddy bought some beer, he showed his ID. When Freddy used his credit card, he showed his ID. When Freddy picked up his prescription, he showed his ID. When Freddy checked in for a flight, he showed his ID. When Freddy was stopped for speeding, he showed his ID. When Freddy bought a gun, he showed his ID. When Freddy went to vote, he refused to show his ID. You know, because it's racist voter suppression by hateful Nazis. And then Freddy bought more beer. (He showed his ID for that.)

I know an asshole who was a restaurant industry attorney and lobbyist. Ensuring that kids who got hurt in fast food restaurants couldn't sue. Viciously smearing people who were sickened by the unhealthy products. Screwing over franchisees with insane contracts, supplier price hikes, and map stacking. Colluding with others in the industry to bribe lawmakers at every level for minimal safety standards and no employee benefits. The Diabetes, Obesity, Heart Disease, Cancer, Poverty, and Stroke industry eventually chewed him up and spit him out. He ended up with all of those conditions eventually, until he wasted away. Poetic justice, much?

Lisa Lizzie Richard Serendipidy Norval Joe Planet Z The next topic is Blood test NORVAL JOE With her husband safe and sound inside the ambulance and speeding away to the hospital, Mrs. Withybottom wrung her hands together and looked around. "I think I should go to the hospital to be with Thurgrave." The butler put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll drive you, Mitzi. I mean, Madam. Then I can return and keep an eye on your daughter." "No way," Mandy said. "I'm coming with you to the hospital." She grabbed Billbert's hand and dragged him to the old Cadillac. In the huge back seat, she whispered to Billbert, "I don't like, or trust, that man." LISA The School Run Belle ran for the bus: could still feel his touch as he’d brushed passed her, his foetid breath was inside her nostrils. Panic built inside. She cursed the dark, she cursed her shoes, she cursed her heavy bag. Breathless. Stitch stabbing at her sides. She just wanted to be home but the bus doors closed as she neared the stop. With a final frantic push she ran desperately, arm out, thankfully the driver saw her and waited. Belle sat on the bus feeling safe at last, panted, closed her eyes. She didn’t see him get on at the next stop. SERENDIPIDY I know you do all the right things. The whole thing about not inviting me across your threshold; how you check for my reflection in mirrors, and the way you keep a wooden stake within arm's reach, just in case. And you really can't hide the stench of that garlic necklace. You think you're safe, don't you? But, here's the thing: Everything you think you know about vampires, you learned from fiction. Just because you read it in a book, or saw it in the movies, doesn't mean it's true. And, by the way, we love a bright, sunny day! LIZZIE You'll be safe, he said. But nothing was further from the truth. I wasn't safe at all. The irony, the sarcasm, the criticism, the mockery. Day after day. I was not safe. When I left, I left for good. I walked away and became invisible. I changed my name. I hid myself among strangers. My looks, my job. Everything changed. The day he knocked on my door, I just had to get rid of him. The strangers understood. The cops are still looking for him. He's in the Madden's crypt, in Mrs. Madden's coffin. He'll be safe there... or not! RICHARD Uncle Simeon We were clearing out Uncle Simeon's house after he passed. To say he was a bit of a hoarder was something of an understatement. The whole house was crammed to the rafters with junk. Well, most of it was junk. There were a couple of antiques, here and there, but nothing of any real value. Oh, and there was a safe. An old-fashioned, solid steel affair that defied all our attempts to open it. In the end, we took it to a blacksmith, who cut it open with an oxy-acetylene torch. Of course, it was crammed full of junk! PLANET Z The realtor told me to get a fireproof safe for important documents, so I bought the most sturdy and reliable safe with an ironclad warranty and guarantee. Then I dropped all my important documents in there... my mortgage, my insurance plan, all my medical stuff for tax purposes. And I locked it up. Problem is, I've forgotten the passcode on it. And I left the emergency keys inside. The safecracker I hired can't bust it open. I'd call the company to get a technician out, but their number is written on the warranty. Which is locked inside of the safe.

My grandmother had severe dementia and Alzheimer's. She lived to 99 and drained my parents dry. So when my mother was diagnosed with both conditions, I asked my father what the plans were. He said he had plans. And didn't tell me. They moved to a city near me. Then, when my father got sick, instead of putting my mother in a facility or getting a caretaker, I was stuck babysitting her. Turns out his plans were to dump her on me. So I came up with a plan, too. I've blocked everybody's calls, and to hell with those assholes.

I lived in a suburb of Columbus for nine years. There wasn't much to do there. It was a dry town, but there was beer and more surrounding it. Marijuana grew wild by the train tracks. We'd harvest it by the bag and put it in a guy's attic to dry. Except that it was too wet and soaked through their ceiling, which collapsed. So, we dried it in a model home's oven at night. I didn't smoke any, though. I just sold it in school. But for cheap. Because the more they were stoned, the better the grade curve.

The problem with peacekeepers is that you assign them to a mission for a year or so. And they're told that they can't socialize with locals. No dating, no hookers. All these soldiers, mostly men, told to keep it in their pants for a year? Yeah, that's how the crimes happen. Against the women soldiers, but also the local women and girls. So, we developed robot soldiers and patrols. They don't rape. They don't steal. But they do kill. They kill a whole hell of a lot of people. But they don't rape them or steal from them, thank God.

I am an atheist. I do not believe in God. Even when I went to church, I thought "What is this crap?" A guy standing at the end of the room, telling fairy tales and fables. For years, people said I had a God-sized hole in my heart. Which I tried to fill with drugs, booze, and sex. When I finally found God, I tried to fill that hole in my heart. And God said "Wow. Look at all the drugs and booze and sex." I'm still an atheist. But, damn that motherfucker God partying it up in my heart.

Oh, fascists. So efficient with their accounting methods. The streets may run red with the blood of their victims, but their balance sheets are all in the black. The Chinese charge the cost of bullets they use in executions to their families. The Soviets charged rent for every troublesome comrade sent to the gulag. And for every tree they chopped for wood to keep from freezing to death. The Nazis charged a fare for every passenger on the death trains. And American public schools have a long list of fees and charges to attend these inefficient and incompetent indoctrination camps.