Time for another re-post of my entry into 100 Word Stories' weekly challenges of the past.
The theme was Just Let Me Touch It and while I could have just sent in another very personal memoir of Stewie Norton, I had something else in mind.
“Just let me touch it,” you said.
“It's so cute,” you said.
“I'll be really careful,” you said.
Back in my day, bombs had fierce shit painted on them. Tigers, sharks, naked broads, things with teeth! We could insult the bastards we were gonna kill, none of this cutesy pastel non-threatening shit like big-eyed bunnies and daisies. “Have a nice afterlife!”
Can't have menacing looking instruments of doom these days.
A bomb’s a bomb, Jenkins. Triggers and wires and death. Totally non-huggable.
I hope you're happy.
Oh that's right, you're fried to a crisp.
Where the hell is my leg?
Unfortunately I never realized that the mic built into the computer would pick up the computer itself, so if you swing by to listen to the challenge, you'll hear this horrendous sound in amongst 11 other entertaining stories. That muffled whining thing is me. I fix it the next week.