I never got involved with the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenges to win, because I'm not like that. Hearing the midget read my mothball story was a high I still don't think I've come down from, unless it's just the allergy medication. But then I was having a couple of bad weeks where I couldn't form a coherent thought, you know, springtime.
The theme was Bacon, and how could a loyal Porkinite pass up the chance to write about bacon in any form?
When the flu hit, I figured everyone was cannibalizing each other for laughs. Then I caught it and started to change.
Clinics were turning people in, so I went to my ol’ buddy Chivito, he always fixes me up. He gave me something he swore would cure me if I rubbed it all over and wrapped myself in plastic. I joked with him I'd be ready to eat if it didn’t work. I should've noticed he was laughing a little too loud, licking his lips, even.
It's been a week. I smell like bacon.
I hear someone at the door.
I didn't really think my story was that great...but nine people disagreed with me. If you listen to the challenge, there were 13 other stories and the only real stand out in mine was that I finally figured out how to work my mic (I have no one to call) and, being incoherent, rambled on about how much fun I'd had in case I died. Daphne, who also won with her account of the bacon riots, had just returned from the dead. Writers really do get more popular when death is near! Awesome!