Friday, November 30, 2018

Frig, Fricken, Frack


“People, we need to get a handle on this plague!”

Virginia Whitehead, President of Don’t Say That Word had a look on her face that might have frightened…well… no one actually. But she thought it looked fierce.

“There are simply too many people using too many words that could be construed as… you know… that word!” She had a strict rule about using… you know… That Word.

“You mean Frig? Fricken? Frack? Fudge?” Harold Beltzer knew it would cost him his job if he said The Word. But he could play with his boss’ emotions all he liked.

“Yes!!!!”

Thursday, November 29, 2018

Free, Cutlery, Hugs


The holiday season had been making itself known to Ben: Black Friday had come and gone and the number of shopping days ’til Christmas was less than thirty. He felt alone and he knew others out there were feeling the same. And so he decided to do something about it.

Which is why he wandered his local mall carrying a sign, “Hugs not shrugs”, and gave free hugs to anyone who asked or even looked like they needed one. Such as the young man shopping for cutlery at London Drugs. One hug, two lives made a bit better.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

Flop, Sizzle, Splat


*Sizzle*

The project to leapfrog supercomputer calculations from terra flops to mega splats per second (a bazillion times faster) had been hit by delay after delay. Lightning strike fried circuit breakers and sensitive components. A rogue rat chewed cabling. And now? Fruit fly infestation buggering up the electronics.

Despite visits by scientists, researchers, security consultants, asset protection managers, rodent extermination experts, and exorcists, the project continued to face extraordinary challenges. What was trying to stand in the way of progress?

Was it the case, like a few people were saying, that it was Mother Earth herself standing in the way?

Monday, November 26, 2018

Frail, System, Break


“Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, I would like to summarize my closing remarks. We’ve been told that human health is fragile and the human body frail, that systems fail and parts break - that this is part of the human condition.

It is irresponsible, indeed absolutely criminal, to allow anyone, no matter their position in society, to prey upon human life. We are not prey and we should not submit to anyone or anything that considers itself a predator.

And so, I ask you, members of the jury, to find Death guilty of mass murder.”

Saturday, November 24, 2018

There, Their, They’re


As I strolled along the walk
‘round the time of the county fair,
I spied an unusual gent
In obscene square underwear

And as I looked closer
To discern what was there
I came to conclude
T’was worn with great care

Consider shape within shape
Oval within square
And I had to suppose
This has to be a dare

And others looking on?
The kids who could only stare
Their parents shielding eyes
And the gent catching glares

So where’s the gentry?
To shame this arse of a mare
They’re deep in their cups
And comment on the gent’s flair.

Friday, November 23, 2018

Exhausted, Full, Relief


There’d been no choice: orders were orders. HMS Gallant had to be on station on the other side of the Pacific in two weeks, despite it being typhoon season and an active one at that. But the Captain was a seasoned veteran and if anyone could navigate rough seas, he could.

Those thoughts were cold comfort, as was the taste of salt water, as he swam, exhausted, towards a life boat. One rogue wave had been the ship’s doom, already half full of water and sinking fast. The automatic distress signal called for relief. Would it arrive in time?

Thursday, November 22, 2018

Grateful, Light, Feast


In Wat Buppharam there is an emerald Buddha (the original is in Bangkok) that has caught my breath and attention since I first laid eyes on it. Nothing brings me to a deeper sense of reverence and peace than it does.

In my mind’s eye, I can easily see myself slowly and reverently approaching the Buddha, bowing, then lighting a candle. Prostrating myself, I can feel Universal Love coursing through me and in return, my love courses through the universe. Eventually I bow again, then withdraw. 

I always leave feeling light and grateful for my soul’s feast.

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Popsicle, Flamingo, Orange


“Peter Veet’s
Sour and Sweet!
Ice cream and candy
Peter Veet’s dandy!”

Peter Veet, President and CEO of the world’s largest confectioner, sat in stupefied silence while anxious ad agency representatives waited with saccharine smiles on their faces. He wondered why it was that after three months of “creative brainstorming services” (billed at top dollar), he had just listened to… this? 

And the billboard proposals! No pictures of their ice cream popsicles! No orange chocolate dandelions! Not to mention not even a glimpse of the company mascot, the proud Florida flamingo!

But all Peter could say was “Needs work”.

Tuesday, November 20, 2018

Dog, cathedral, accordion


Excerpt from Sociology Today, Nov 2018 edition, page 32, Article Summary, by Norman Gerverburder, PhD.:

“Sociologists have recently found that among all the classifications of humans, accordion players are perhaps one of the oddest. Much like bagpipes players, they can hear sounds that are inaudible to all living things, except perhaps exceptionally small species of dog.

Where a “baseline” human hears a rather wheezy and hollow sound that tries and fails to match the quality of an ancient piano, the player hears a symphony of sound, worthy of concert halls and cathedrals.

Further study into this phenomenon is encouraged.” 

Monday, November 19, 2018

Flag, Forest, Pistachio


The setting sun cut clear lines through the ragged flag that sagged wearily against the tepid breeze.
Nadia trudged home, numb to the surrounding destruction.

Everything she’d had was gone, taken by some marauding army or militia or other - it was hard to tell them apart. Husband and male children forced to join one of them. Her income, her pistachios and the trees they grew on, napalmed and unrecoverable. Her little home in a little forest now little more than a hovel, not fit for a dog.

One foot followed another followed another. Not a single tear fell.

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Earlobe, Confetti, Soap


Confetti woven in her hair and Bae’s vicious words stuck in her ears as she closed the bathroom door. Bae - better Bae than Grandma Beatrice, better cool than dried out stool as she liked to say. So of course on her 70th birthday, a bellybutton piercing. Earlobes just weren’t cool enough.

And also as she liked to say, no risk was too big, no molehill too tall, for her totally pathetic and skittish granddaughter.

I’ll show her.

Soap and iodine to disinfect and prep the area, ice cube to get the nub hard, and the needle… Ready?… ready??… Ready. And…

Saturday, November 17, 2018

Avocado, Eucalyptus, Shenanigans


“hello welcome to shenanigans i’m shannon I’ll be your server can i take your order?”

Being a server at the new yuppie “bad boy” bar, something between Hooters and Bennigan's, was soul suckingly bad. Bad boy yuppies? Almost as pathetic as geriatric punk rockers.

But this was as good as she could get right now. She was on the  run from the law and angry women who’d been burned and blinded by her eucalyptus infused avocado oil healing masque. So she’d made a small formulation mistake… geez… 

“yes sir we offer several sides such as fries…”

Amphibian, Picked, Efficient


She picked it up carefully.  She had to – frogs are slippery.

Arthritic fingers held the quivering amphibian while cold eyes studied it.  “No, not you”, she muttered unpleasantly, and dropped it back into the swamp water.  Clearly annoyed, she wondered where he was hiding this time.

She wasn’t evil, just an efficient problem-solver.  Mosquitoes that bite? People who annoy?  Both solved by turning annoying people into mosquito-eating frogs!  Her husband, for instance...But she needed him to fix the leaky roof.  So she needed to change him back.  Again.  Reluctantly.

She spied another frog.  She picked it up carefully.

Screwdriver, Silk, Super


Kirk knocked on the apartment door.  The super said 3607 had asked specifically for him, problem unknown.  Growing up, Kirk’s mother had called him her “apple blossom”.  Now here he was in the Big Apple working maintenance - a turn of a wrench, a twist of a screwdriver – but secretly dreaming of silk frills and high tea.  The door opened and his heart began thumping.  Stern, demanding, her cigarette smoke caressing the air in lazy swirls, 3607 smiled knowingly.  She handed him a large pink dress and lace gloves.  Weak in the knees, he entered and she closed the door. 

Republished 13 Aug 2020: https://onehundredwordsbyparz.blogspot.com/2020/08/throwback-thursday-not-funny-today-old.html


Tabasco, Almonds, Annihilation


“Mornin’ neighbor-man.” 

“...hey...” 

“Still playing Quake III: Annihilation Online?  I thought you were going to catch some z’s hours ago.”  

“...was...”  

“Fuck dude.  Kill the game.” 

“...later...”  

“You eaten anything?”  

“...those...”  

“A bag of chocolate covered almonds?  Oh man...what’s in the bottle?”  

“...here...”  

<glug glug Phhfftttt>  “Holy shit!  What the hell is this?”  

“...gin, Jolt, tabasco ...”  

“Jesus fucking Christ it’s horrible!”  

“...need it to keep fragging bastards...” 

“No, you need to go home and get your drunk, skunky ass off my couch.”  

<retch>  “...unh...sorry dude...” 

“Asshole!  You booted on my couch!” 

“...zzz...”

“Nice…”

Dormouse, Torchlight, Slip


The tales of Prince Charming’s exploits are legion.  The tales of his brother are less well known.

Prince Moribund approached the ruin on his mangy nag.  The weary sun was just setting, highlighting the flicker of torchlight from the highest chamber of the surviving tower.  The Prince peered into what had been the moat, now only a muddy ditch home to scavenging dormice.  Gingerly he made his way across the rotting drawbridge, trying not to slip into the fetid muck beneath.  Reaching the other side safely, Moribund slumped tiredly into a prone lump and began to snore.

Dormouse, Torchlight, Slip


Emperor Caracalla’s feast was ready.  His mother, Julia, had asked that he and his co-Emperor brother Geta resolve their feud for the good of the Empire.  This feast, thought Caracalla, will do just that.  An orgy of food, entertainment, and exotic delights, decadent even by Roman standards, were to be enjoyed this night.  Even the torchlight danced with greens and purples, not just the usual reds, oranges, and yellows.  All was ready.  Caracalla was full of joy and heartiness, even embracing his brother.  Yet never letting slip that Geta’s favoured dessert, dormouse in honey and sesame seeds, was poisoned.  

Dark, Turtle, Fleece


A cryptic message in an ancient text. A company of heroes seeking fame and fortune. Long dark roads and deadly peril. A sole survivor...

Thiormond Thunderbum spied his prize. In the top room of the tallest tower of a wizard’s castle lay the Fleece of Transformation upon the Turtle Shell of Ultimate Wisdom. And it was his for the taking. Murmuring the oft repeated message, he came to the line “Wear the Fleece”. Wrapping the fleece around his broad shoulders, he envisioned glory for his accomplishment. Dreaming turned to panicked bleating with a last thought “Was it ‘Ware the Fleece?’”

Admin - My first post...

Hello all,

Welcome to this blog. It's intended to be a fun creative writing exercise - I start with 3 words and from them (and including them), I write a story that is 100 words or less. I hope you enjoy it!