When Ho-Ho-Ho Met Po-Po

An idea for a 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge story fell from the sky onto my head like a face-hugging alien that wanted to go do some good in the world but as all misunderstood things find out, sneaking around dressed funny is frowned upon in modern culture. I DON'T KNOW WHY.

The theme for the challenge was Hat, and this is what I pulled out:

One December, I forget how long ago, a hat fell from the sky, right in front of me. It was one of those freaky red and white ones the guys at the mall wear when they get sadistic and want to be peed on by hysterical kids.

At first I was worried a bunch of reindeer poop was going to follow, but it never did.

I didn't know what to do with the hat, so I took it home and now every year I wear it while sneaking into kid's rooms to give them books and coats. I get arrested.

The whole hat rack is here for your head-hugging entertainment.

Have a good one, kids. Never lose the wonder.

When Ho-Ho-Ho Met Po-Po

What's That Smell?

It's been a while since I took part in the 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge, right? Time flies when you're...throwing clocks out the window.

The theme Smoke came up, and like the early, good challenge entries, this one would not leave me until I wrote it down.

Don't smoke, she told me. She doused me in gasoline, told me the next cigarette would be my last.

I put arsenic in her donuts. She locked herself in the bathroom for three days.

I offered her a truce. I'd take her out to eat if she let me take a shower.

How could I know she'd been hooking up the bathroom plumbing to a tank of acid?

As I soaked in the cooking oil she was so fond of drinking, I told her she'd have to find another man.

"Did that five months ago," she said, lighting a match.

I wonder sometimes if these are the same characters from Hmmmmmmmmmmm and Over The Falls In A Barrel, or if they all live on the same block, and if they do, should a wall be built around their neighborhood so they can't get out and breed with anyone else. Not that many of them really need to worry about that, being all burnt and mangled in so many delightful ways.

The smoking section is hopping and can be heard, read AND smelled here.

What's That Smell?

Pork?

Yes, yes, I'm writing my NaNoWriMo epic. But so are a lot of the gang from the 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge and when Crap Mariner called for NaNoWriMo links I was like, "I WAS RAISED TO BRING A DISH TO PARTIES!"

The theme for this week's challenge was Stuffing, and the week before that was Mystery Ingredient, so I combined them both with a dash of people. Wait, did I just give it away?

My grandmother's stuffing is legendary, brings all the grown men in my family to tears!

One Thanksgiving, my wife--new to the tasty taste sensation--tried to guess what the little morsels of juicy deliciousness scattered throughout the cornbread were.

"Pork?"

"Family secrets!" is all she ever says. It's funny, but the year she confessed that to my wife, Grampa Jed burst into tears.

She's never revealed her mystery ingredient, although I think my uncles figured it out a while ago. Strangely enough, once they work out the recipe, no one wants to eat it anymore.

More for me!

Yes, yes, I know, in 1986 my cousin and I nearly wiped out the bowl of Nan's pork stuffing. That's not what this story is about.

The entire line of Stove Top substitutes can be heard here, and you'll never know I didn't read my own story. YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO LISTEN TO FIND OUT WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT.

Pork?

Go Back Two Houses Back For Your Candy, Whippersnappers!

Yes it is Thursday, but Halloween was Saturday, so my Halloween tale for the 100 Words Stories Halloween Challenge went up in the ethereal space between days known as Craggityday.

No, it went up Saturday. As did this, actually. It's all scheduled ahead of time. Very disenchanting, isn't it?

Hey, I'm writing a book! Go to 100 Word Stories for new stories! As of yesterday there are 2,000 to read, you won't be disappointed.

Go Back Two Houses Back For Your Candy, Whippersnappers!

Hundreds of Halloween Haunty Words

What's this?! Two posts in one day? SPOOOOOOOOKY! The 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge goes up on Saturday, and...do I need to do these intros?

The theme for this week's challenge was Halloween! And everyone wrote stories for Halloween! Because it's Halloween!

My favorite time of year! I'm not allowed to enjoy the company of children any other day, but on Halloween there's an endless supply, and always more follow to enjoy my special treats.

I can't give you my recipe, it's a family secret, handed down from my great-great-great-grandmammy Wanda. She escaped the old country with only the shawl on her back and a girl scout under her skirt. Very misunderstood woman. She loved children! Loved to make them cookies. Just like me!

Don't be shy, kiddies, have another cookie! Watch your fingers! Wouldn't want them to break!

Prepare to get your pants scared off by spooktacular freaky fest here!

Hundreds of Halloween Haunty Words

Clomb: The Undead

What day is it?! NO! It's not Thursday, it's 100 Word Stories day! Whoo!

The theme for this week's challenge was Peace, and if you've read this blog of mine long enough I probably don't have to tell you where my story came from.

No, really, there's a mountaineering term for n00b: Gumby.

I was told I might die.

Might.

Everyone dies, what's the big deal? Not everyone finds peace. That thought scared me all the way to this mountain.

Forty minutes into the climb my muscles hurt so bad I almost believed everyone who told me I couldn't do this, and I wanted to hate them but I was too busy. After my lungs stopped burning I started to feel hungry. Eventually that passed, too.

When I reached the top, an old man greeted me.

"What took you so long?"

Too tired to do anything but laugh, we sat watching the sunset.

Many versions of peace can be found here, and this week features the last story (for now) by Guy David, who is an awesome writer and musician and if you haven't heard his music it's at GuyDavid.com and now you have no excuse not to go listen to some good music.

Clomb: The Undead

She is Mad, and If She Lives to An Old Age She Will Sink Further Into Madness. Or something.

The 100 Word Stories Weekly Challenge makes me do crazy things.

Like this week, when the theme was Crushed, I...pulled out the illegitimate lovechild of a Jane Austen character who lives in my head.

Dearest Eliza,

As I'm sure you recall, our cousin Jack has been undertaking the peculiar task of collecting bits of thread for the past seven years, and I am grateful to you for your contribution of the clippings from your pantaloons, however I must report the tragic news that our dear cousin was crushed beneath his great ball of fibers this past Thursday.

Do not grieve, as Jack prized your threads above all others and had little interest in anything save that hideous tangle. Had he not rejected my advances I would have happier news for you.

Regretfully yours,
Gertrude

The total carnage can be heard and read here. Go now before my great ball of fibers crushes you like a tragic Indiana Jones outtake.

She is Mad, and If She Lives to An Old Age She Will Sink Further Into Madness. Or something.

Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Crap Mariner

The creator of 100 Word Stories is an amazing storyteller. He says he'll write one story a day until he dies, and I hope he has a lot more stories in him.

The theme for this week's challenge was Forty, because that's how many years Crap Mariner's had to put up with the fleshy humans. Knowing this didn't help me write a better story, in fact I went through a record number of rejected takes on this before my inner emcee took over and turned a character based on the man who made me read my own stories again into...King Kong? Hey, I liked King Kong and thought the humans just out for entertainment who didn't expect Kong to be himself deserved to be shaken up.

Come one, come all, gather 'round and see the clockwork kid, the wonder of the modern age! Built by robots on a faraway island forty years ago, a group of opportunistic pirates couldn't let a good thing go to waste so they brought him here, to entertain you! Wind him up and he'll weave you a unique tale guaranteed to blow your mind!

You’ll be dazzled by his wit! You’ll marvel as he interacts with the fiercest of jungle cats! You’ll drool over his delicious bread!

Run, don’t walk! Don't even wait for the bus! Witness the magnificent clockwork kid!

The whole party can be read and heard here, and you really ought to have podcasting.isfullofcrap.com in your RSS reader by now.

Being For The Benefit Of Mr. Crap Mariner

And Now It's Time For A Breakdown

I haven't been doing so great. 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge time is not bitching time, but last week happy time and bitchy time intersected spectacularly when my Internet died repeatedly, making work back up and cut into my getting-of-the-topic, writing, and submitting time. Yes, I only have five minutes of free time.

I guess what I'm trying to tell you is I wrote something not great for Wings. I could have gone on at great length about birds, I could've had another Paul McCartney adventure, but for some reason I wrote about something I've never drank in my life.

Red Bulls are so good, I drank a hundred of them and I didn't get wings, but I cleaned my gutters and I didn't even need a ladder to get to the roof, I just jumped! Then I helped change a tire by totally ripping off the tire, and then I threw the tire, and the tire flew all the way across town to the dump and killed a hobo, but I don't feel bad about that--I can't feel anything but pure unadulterated caffeine rushing through my veins, busting up my brain and I think I'm having a heartattack!

I only said I never drank a Red Bull, I didn't say I've never felt like that. I totally clean my gutters all by myself fueled only by Folgers and a deep-seated rage for the gits who put up the gutters without a downspout near the corner where the pine needles collect. Also, I know nothing of hobo clobberings.

Read and listen to my crazy going on and far more focused tales here. The speed at which I read my story is the only thing that saves it.

And Now It's Time For A Breakdown

The Shadow Toast

The 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge usually brings out brand new stories.

True, my offering for the double themes of Magic Toaster and Who Knows? was written out in a new way for the challenge, but this one is part of something else, something bigger, something really really old.

Life was never the same for Alex after his brother was poisoned by their father. He kept to himself a lot before then, but after his brother began communicating through the toaster, things turned around.

At first he tried to convince himself there was nothing magic about the toaster, he’d been drinking the first time it spoke, maybe he was developing schizophrenia, who knows? Sure, he'd like to do what the toaster told him and throw it in the tub with dad, but it made great toast. Browned evenly, not too burnt. It didn’t even need to be plugged in.

All 11 stories are popping up here, full of mystery and buttery crunch.

The Shadow Toast

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, A Pirate's Challenge For Ye!

Ahoy mateys! The 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge were overtaken by pirates!

The theme were Pirates!

Pirates were all about, and a bit o' the themes chose by shanty maker Guy David and yours truly.

It be a hard life for Capn' Swallow since the international shanty composers began demandin' royalties. He near lost his ship after we were caught playin' Barnacles, Me Hearties without askin'. Askin’ Two-Legged Davy if ye can sing his songs t’ain’t a wise move if ye hope to live another day.

I understand why the captain had to run me through five times afore setting me out to sea. There be sharks circling me leaky dingy lookin’ friendlier than the last face I saw. No matter, I got me parrot, a bottle o'grog, and me harmonica. I'll survive. Probably.

The whole crew be assembled 'ere, and if ye've ne'er listened to the podcast, what be wrong with ye? now's the time! AVAST!

Yo-Ho, Yo-Ho, A Pirate's Challenge For Ye!

I Like Peas.

One other thing I did on 09/09/09 was write the first draft of my 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge story.

Only I wrote it...with a pen. On paper. I don't write like that. Not since 1989, anyway. But I got an idea for Peas On A Pod and all I had within reach was a pen, a bit of paper...and of course blood, but that wasn't necessary this week.



No, I'm not going to make you read that. After all, I edited it five more times before I submitted this:

That airplane flying over reminds me of a nice man I met who was supposed to become the first man to fly to Mars. He had to turn back on account of broken facilities, and was called Pete "Pees In A Pod" Carter from then on.

Me an' Jenny were like peas in a pod, 'cept we weren’t green an' we didn't grow out of the ground. Well, Jenny's in the ground now, but it wasn't like you could serve us with shrimp. I like shrimp. Shrimp's like peas 'cause you gotta pull the strings out before you eat 'em....

Yes, that was meant to be Forrest "Table Tennis Hero" Gump. I read the story in a voice that sounded nothing like Forrest Gump, but never mind that, we totally got shrimp with the "veins" still intact from the Chinese place up the street. Seriously, if I ate shrimp that would have freaked me out even more than it freaked out the people who did eat it, and they've sworn off shrimp now. Shrimp shouldn't have the same air of mystery that a box of chocolates has, although the vegetarian who lives in my head hasn't stopped laughing yet.

The digest of all ten stories can be read and heard here, and just like I eat all my peas, you should read ALL the stories before voting. Listening's even better.

I Like Peas.

For The Birds

I write several of my offerings for the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge in the shade of a tree, you know.

Having won again with the magical barrel of doom story, the next theme--On The Line--was also chosen by me. I had a reason.


They look like little music notes, don't they?

Look at them down there fiddling with their shiny things--totally not real blackberries, by the way. Harvey chipped his beak on one of those things in April and he hasn't been the same since.

They think they're tweeting? They don't know the first thing about tweeting! When we sit up here on the line, we're one with the whole world, able to send out the alarm for worm sightings or where to get bread with one sound.

Well, here comes what you get for not looking up and admiring the bird over your head!

HA! I just pooped.

...I wonder if the birds in that photo will be all, "MY PHOTOS ARE ON THE INTERNET! CHECK IT OUT!"

Ah, I love Twitter. I miss Twitter. By total coincidence I haven't had time for Twitter since writing this. I'm on Twitter, you know. I'm a twit.

All the lines can be heard and read here.

For The Birds

The Lead Up To Many Craigslist Listings

I've said it before and I'll say it every time I write something my peers deem worthy of voting for, I only take part in the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge to keep my mind working, not to win.

The sappy puppet story won. All by itself. I didn't even vote for it! True enough I didn't thoroughly hate that one after reading it over and over but it's still humbling to have the other writers vote for me, because the other writers are consistently GOOD. The winner of the previous week gets to pick the topic of the next challenge, so naturally when I fired up Google reader last week and saw the next theme was A Full Set my brain went totally blank and stayed that way for several days. I will not elaborate further if exposure to UV rays were partially responsible.

The story I ended up writing was...nasty.

Call me obsessed, but my completionist mentality has served me well. I put myself through school by selling my comic book collection, my original redline Hot Wheels paid for my first real car, my house was paid for with stamps, and the early marketing for my home business was financed by scalping Star Wars figures on the Internet.

I think selling my rookie Babe Ruth card to buy identical implants and veneers for all of my girlfriends was a poor investment, though, because all I got in return was a full set of sexually transmitted diseases. Who would want that?

Scientists, perhaps. Hmm. Hey yeah, maybe this guy can get together with the broad from Hmmmmmmmmmmm! Maybe he DID. *sigh* I do enjoy the lowbrow humor a bit too much.

The full set of challengers can be read and heard here. Read, listen, enjoy, laugh, cry, get grossed out, hear the puppet give an acceptance speech that exposes me for the sock-buying charlatan that I am.

The Lead Up To Many Craigslist Listings

WHEEEEEEEEEEE! *crack*

My weekly routine of finding out the topic for the next 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge and then writing a story had a twist this week.

The topic was Over The Falls In A Barrel, and I got a rather devious comeuppance tale in my head right away.

I killed my fifth husband on our wedding night. You know how it is.

To cover it up, I thought I'd take him to Niagara, do the whole traditional over the falls bit. People die doing that all the time.

The hippie by the side of the road guaranteed his magic barrel would change my life. Didn't tell me it would bring that old bastard back from the dead and keep me from dying when we hit the rocks. The doctor tells me I'll probably be like this for the rest of my life. My husband visits me every day.

Only...originally it was a little too close to the whole thing with that guy from Megan Wants A Millionaire, but I didn't know that because I don't watch that kind of news willingly. So I rewrote the whole thing so it would be less awkward. The story ended up feeling awkward to me in other ways, but the good news is if you go listen to the podcast and hear me talking about the dude outside my house with the neon pink bag, he eventually went away and I don't think he had any body parts in the bag.

The whole barrel of 10 tales can be heard here.

WHEEEEEEEEEEE! *crack*

Sockin' It To The Challenge Over and Under

No matter how many brain cells are burned away in the scorching heat or how crazy the outside world becomes, the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge is like a soothing balm I stick into my ears, bringing a cooling waves of goodness to my brain. Better than ice picks any day.

This week's topic was Over/Under, and of course I wrote something that starts out with something recovering from being dirty.

Over and under we tumbled, around and around in the darkness for an hour. Just as I was warming up the buzzer went off, the door opened, and she stole my mate away, leaving me lying there as the hot metal cooled.

I didn’t think much of the wet clothes dumped on top of me until the man they belonged to brought me home. He knew what I was but he didn’t care. He even let his kids play with me, and now instead of spending my days on stinky feet, I have curly hair and the shiniest button eyes.

This and 9 other tales that go beneath the surface with very special guests can be heard here.

Sockin' It To The Challenge Over and Under

I Am All About Hobo Chic

Part of my weekend ritual is going to the RSS reader and finding out what the next 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge will be. The past few weeks I had the added glee of finding out Google Reader includes a player to hear the podcast right from the frikkin' reader! I'm like Tarzan with razors over Google Reader now. That's a good thing, trust me.

This week's topic was The Walls Shuddered. Of course I went straight for lampooning reality shows and used the word urine.

Only two designers remained. For weeks every kind of degradation had been inflicted on the false walls of studio 7, from kitschy mirrors to neon animal prints, the wooden framework and sheetrock thought they'd felt it all.

When hobo chic was announced as the theme that would decide the champion, the vivacious male designer rushed off to collect every old newspaper in the building, while the grim art school girl merely announced she'd be creating eye-catching patterns using an assortment of urines.

As newspaper was torn and squirt guns were filled under the harsh spotlights, the walls shuddered imperceptibly.

After submitting the story I happened to catch Design Star, the show I had in mind writing this one, and apparently everyone needed to decorate with food because a dude decorated a wall with matzos. Another designer screwed apples to the wall, and yet another had bottles of liquid lining the walls which made me start shrieking, "Howard Hughes, Howard Hughes!" Mum had to point out the bottles were filled with chocolate milk. That image didn't help.

This week there were only 9 other stories, but they all shake my walls, baby. Go listen to them all here. Seriously, you need to listen because there are sound effects involved and I'm not going to tell you where.

I Am All About Hobo Chic

Existential Drama!

The hot heat of summer, with its monsoons capable of flinging tree parts at me and turning off the electricity, cannot keep me from taking part in the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge.

This week's topic was Unprepared, and sure, I could have written all funny things about people showing up in (or not in) their underwear, but I had a different idea...I WENT WEIRD.

I came here totally unprepared. I had never been a human before. I had no idea what I was meant to do. Looking around me, I noticed I wasn't alone. It didn't make me feel any better.

Those around me taught me how to dress and how to think. I learned their language, ate their food and drank their drink. I felt safe.

Then one day the sun illuminated another path, and I wondered if I could be someone else in this lifetime.

I'm totally unprepared for what comes next. So is everyone else. I feel okay about it. Alive.

Is that the most honest thing I'd written about myself? Possibly. What does it mean? I have no idea, read it again and let me know. I'm guessing it's about life in general, but I could be wrong.

This week there are 12 other great stories that can be heard and read here. CLICK IT! CLICK IT NOW!

In my rambling avoidance of just reading the story I mention my Tumblr account I haven't linked to anywhere. UNTIL NOW! http://lyndanaclerio.tumblr.com/. It's got blogging and comics and tweets and photos and no ads! It's tumblriffic! I have no idea what tumblriffic feels like. I'm tingly.

This just in: Somehow...I tied for first with the brilliant Anima and the mysterious Planet Z. I...was not prepared for that. At all. No living with me this week. :D

Existential Drama!

N 42! O...Hell No.

The 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge is getting the best of me now that the humidity has set in and I only think of maybe 15 good words in a 24-hour span. I'm happy about that, because if I was pissing all my brain power into Twitter I'd really need to examine my priorities.

This week's topic is The Games We Play, and me? Games? Have you seen my basement? Have you been lured in there by the smell of cardboard boxes and '70s plastic? Have we played Which Witch? together? Did I drop it down the chimney and turn you into a mouse?

Sorry about that.

I didn't mind so much when my family put me in a home because I never liked those selfish bastards, and once I discovered strip bingo night I was sorry I didn't commit myself sooner!

At first it was a little weird, watching my new neighbors struggle to get their shirts off when their first numbers were called, and I regretted having my cataracts removed when some of them got close to winning, but then I made a load of new friends when I yelled that all I needed was an O69.

That old coot Harold Blonksy hasn't stopped laughing.

Listen to and read all the fun and games here.

Ages 8 and up, contains small parts, don't use dice as bludgeoning devices unless your opponent summons an earth elemental, do not pass go, draw 4 cards and lose a turn.

N 42! O...Hell No.

Barbecued Dinosaurs Smell Just Like Chicken

I love writing for the 100 Word Stories' weekly challenge because I can go be someone else for a minute or so and that's the best way to live, really. Totally be a different person every five minutes or 18 days or seven years--no, five minutes is good.

This week's topic involved THUNDER, however...and I happen to have some history with thunder. I'll just say this one is two truths and a lie and let you figure which part is which.

My father loved to tell me bullshit stories during thunderstorms.
His favorite involved dinosaurs stampeding out of a crack in the earth. I guess it was one he'd been told. He was struck by lightning three times.

Years later my uncle explained that the rumble I was freaking out over was from static electricity in the clouds. I calmed down, enjoyed the rest of the barbecue, and fell in love with science.

I told this story to the Dr. Wu when the power went out, and he laughed.

He said, "That wasn't thunder, that was the dinosaur we cloned, escaping."

12 other cracking tales surround mine in a perfect storm of fart jokes and fabulousness that can be heard from miles away here.

The part of Dr. Wu was not played by B.D. Wong this evening. Dammit.

Barbecued Dinosaurs Smell Just Like Chicken