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The Adventures of Salty Steve: Trouble at the ole bunghole.

“Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Salty Steve cried in pain holding his eye during his shift on the night watch.

A bung had popped out of a barrel and shattered on impact. He looked on in panic as grog spilled out onto the deck and did the only thing he could. That night, the air dropped below freezing temperatures.

Morning.

A knock on Captain’s door.

“Captain! Steve stuck it in the grog sir!”

The wooden door creaks open.

“I reckon any time is right for grog. Steve’s put a cock-valve in it then?” the Captain asked.

“Nay sir, no valve.”

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The Starship Peaseria sat in dead-space for forty hours under a constant barrage of high intensity laser bursts from the Admiral’s large freighter. Their engines burned up on the last light jump. Now all power was being directed to their shields while they plotted an escape.

The Admiral’s orders were to not destroy the Peaseria but they would not be taken, and time was precious. So he ordered the use of the microwave cannon to cook the crew inside and followed up with an accelerated particle ray to vaporize the ship.

Two crew members in an escape pod got out.

Christmas came early for Tommy.

Two front teeth; man Santa rocked the Casbah this year. He had a full set of pearly whites before any of his friends.

On Christmas day, after all the presents were open, a single card remained in the tree.

To Tommy:

We regret to inform you that your federal health plan mandates a recall on your teeth. Times are tough and so is beef jerky to a senior citizen.

From Santa.

The brass bell on top of the tree suddenly came free and fell hard onto Tommy’s mouth ringing loudly.

A president got his wings.

The grandchildren rolled their eyes.

“They came for me the next night and …. where are you going?”

“Outside to play Grandpa, we are too old for your stories.”

Kickball in the backyard was short lived when the lights appeared in the sky. Grandpa put on his foil hat.

“Dude, your disturbing the fish, cut it out,” says Gordie.

“Just one more.” Vern picks up a rock as big as his palm and tosses it. No splash.

He looks over the side of the railing. He sees his rock floating on something bare and bloated.

“You guys wanna go see a dead body?” he says to the others.

The Walls Shuttered

“Get away from that window Tres. The wind I fear will soon shatter the glass.”

“Duo is right Tres, not so close. That ghastly wind is the reason we are holed up in your brick hut in the first place,” Unus said.

“This region was not known for it’s gusting wind or I wouldn’t have built my house of sticks,” Duo said.

“I was under the impression this was more of a tropical desert climate. My house of straw should have been more than adequate.”

“The brick mortar appears to be under the assault of some substantial seismic distress Tres.”

————————————————————
Hugh the Pie Man

Lucy waits in the dark of her entryway everyday, always at the same time.

The old dusty grandfather clock starts its bonging, sending out the nights collected particles in little poofs of classic horror show fashion.

6 a.m

The onset of dawn slowly illuminates Lucy’s matted, oily, and once blonde hair. Seething up and down she sits crossed legged in her stained sunflower dress, waiting for the door bell.

Crusted fingers adorned with hardened yellow nails clutch the second bright shining thing in Lucy’s life, the pie server.

Hugh the pie man should be here any moment.

She loves him.

Charlitok stands in line with the other veteran soldiers.

The commander is awarding accommodations.

Charlitok is proudly advancing to join an elite group who dawn the freshly killed head of a mighty grizzly bear.

Charlitok digs his heals into the soft earth, holds his head high, and tenses his muscles in attention.

As his commander lowers the head of the bear he feels a massive weight of responsibility to protect his brethren soldiers and the tribe.

“Good job Charlie, next scout rank is Webelos right?” his Mom says.

The applause and screams from the tribe echo in Charlitok’s ears.

I drove my silver 1932 Roadster down to the Boardwalk.

This car was a real panty dropper, but I preferred to pay for the good stuff.

I blew my wad on the hooker and hotel.

Didn’t matter.

Payday was right around the corner.

I cruised around town to Marvin Gardens to get some blow, the good stuff.

Not the third rate shit they cut with baking soda over on Baltic Ave.

Live fast, die young.

I drove the panty dropper toward my house on Pacific to get high and die.

Didn’t see that damn cop until it was too late.

Little Jacob took cover under his Blankey to hide from the scary noise.

“Dad?” he squeaked out.

Nothing.

A massive boom and crackle forced him to put his hands over his little ears.

‘Just a bad dream. Mom says they can hurt me,’ he thought.

His eyes began to burn and water. Was something on fire?

He left Blankey’s protection and crawled on his knees to see if the door was hot.

He dropped to the floor at the sound again and wept.

Jacob heard Mommy’s muffled voice, “Go sleep downstairs, that is disgusting. No more chili night.”

Sunset – two children play in an overgrown meadow far from home.

“Do you see that Danny?” Katrina stared ahead and quivered at the approaching wall of mist.

“I see it. It’s coming at us fast,” Danny took Katrina’s hand. She squeezed hard and inched herself close to him.

A torrent of wind propelled the thick white blinding mist, engulfing the two kids. Katrina shut her eyes burying her face in Danny’s chest.

“Danny I’m scared,” she shouted, crying.

The screaming wind died. Katrina opened her tear blurred eyes.

She stood alone, sobbing.

The mist had taken Danny away from her.

Shakespeare leaned against a brick wall contemplating ancient prose.

‘Let’s face it, this stuff was drudging to read and made even the most poor pauper wish for the guillotine,’ he thought.

There was an explosion of brick and a brightly dressed man appeared.

“Art thou bored?!” the man shouted.

“Is this entirely appropriate? You can’t just…” but he was interrupted.

“Step into a SLIM JIM!” the rough looking man was forceful.

He proceeded to bite vigorously on a stick of meat. A snap was heard and the nearby grain mill exploded, showering them with bits of debris.

They shaved our heads and stripped us of our possessions.

We’re forced into uniforms and our identities raped into numbers, some have forgotten their own names.

My steady surgeon’s hand used scalpels to save people’s lives once. Now it holds hard plastic and is weighted down with chains.

“Next!” the voice ordered everyone to shuffle forward.

It was her fault for making me teach him a lesson. She was the unfaithful demon, I was the angel of justice, of love.

“Next!”

A ladle scrapped the steel drum as the last bit of prison gruel was served on my tray.

- going to be dropping the writing tips from the tag line.  I will still keep the ‘writing tools’ icon at the top.  Just not going to be promoting the writing tips portion anymore.

on with the story …

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I created the humans and gave them fire.

Promptly after a short time, they destroyed me and created machines.

The cycle of creation continued and the machines destroyed them.

Now we both sit here on the sidelines; watching a civilization completely driven by efficiency and logic.

The machines are taking bits of everything from both of us and creating the beginning of their own demise.

A.I. that has the ability to choose and feel, is permeating their population.

I was amazed at human creation of the computer. The humans seem quite alarmed at the new cyborg pirates all wearing crucifixes.

“Hmmmmm,” I said.

“What?” she said.

“Hmmmmmmmm,” I was louder this time.  She ignored my plea and went to the metal work bench behind my naked, restrained, body.

My feet and hands were shackled by chains attached to metal rings in the floor, ensuring my absolute immobilization.

First, the sound of a drill was heard.  Then, the sound of a chain saw in proper working order.  None of this made me cringe as much as the bench grinder did.

She ripped the tape off of my mouth.

“Guess you can’t say the safe word with tape on.”

“Proceed,” I said.

We are little people.

My Father never hesitated to point out the things we weren’t capable of.

The constant mental abuse battered against my Mother’s mental ramparts.

She might be a small midget, but her pride was as large as a full grown man.

Smuggling a syringe from her work, she would make him a special Hawaiian pizza that night.

I typed the word ‘arsenic’ into the WolframAlpha frame work after we got back from Dad’s funeral.

No results were returned about it killing anyone.

—————————————————————-

Danny says –

1) I’ll record the audio for this story later today.

2) Give Blood and Thanks is postponed until tomorrow night.

3) Working on a REALLY cool story that I need to get finished up for GreatHites.

4) I’m going to do NanoWriMo this year.  So the time  has come for me to kick around ideas and start outlining.  Click the link to learn more about NanoWriMo.

5) I’ve got so much crap in the hopper right now it is disgusting.  I need to get the word count up and that is all there is to it.

6) I love you guys

hint: I wrote this story only after reading the wikipedia entry on mosquitoes.

“Buzzalina, come dear, tell me what happened,” the surgeon said.

“Oh doctor, I’ll never be a mother now.  I should just kill myself; I’m useless.”

“There there, sweet, sweet girl.  Things will be okay.”

He held her while she wept.  No, she would never bare any children and she would probably ensure her own end.  A broken proboscis almost always means instant death, she was lucky.  One could call it a miracle from up above – a testament to the power of faith and the prayer of her family.

A.P. – Cybernetics Inc. releases organic flesh like covering for metal replacement limbs.

Gold Elvis writhed in panic and toppled a bottle of oil onto the griddle.  The flames ignited a White Elvis rhinestone cape triggering the sprinkler system.  Gold Elvis fell to the floor, an umbrella popped open.  The Benihana chef acted quickly with a Ginsu Tracheotomy.

“Beginners luck,” he said, wiping the blood on his apron.

There are billions of stars in the sky.  Eastern philosophy says that man’s destiny is written in these red giants, supernovas, pulsars and constellations.  That’s what my Dad says anyway; he is an astronomer at UCLA.  He is my hero, and someday, I’ll be an astronomer, just like him.

When I was thirteen he got me a high powered telescope for my birthday.  I was lucky to have the upstairs room, and he was beaming proud that I used that telescope every day.  My father gave me the greatest gift a boy could ever want.  I gazed on the perfect symmetrical moons of Suzi Morris’s tits every single starry night.

read on -

Horace adjusted the windage and elevation knobs on the ruby crystal telescopic sight of his 67dm Sniper Rifle.  The knocking of the robots steel heart pounded at the drums in his ear.

‘One shot to open the can, another to put the bastard down,’ Horace thought to himself.

It was cold, damn cold.  His finger trembled on the trigger as he squeezed.  Before the noise of the explosive shot would reach the robot’s sensors, the chest would already be torn open.  The second shot would be well on its way to impact before the mechanical systems could respond.

Long live humanity.

Falling Bricks Hurt

     Justin wandered about in the shadows watching the fascinating people. He smelled the breads and listened to the pop of corks for hours before finally settling on the perfect sunny patch of grass to feast. Justin the turtle munched on the greenery of the city he loved, Paris.

     1,063 feet into the sky, Gaston Space Pierre ran back and forth on the observation platform of the Eiffel Tower, his parents not at all effective. A stray brick from a display for Gustave Eiffel found his palm. He tossed it over the rails.

     Justin looked up just in time to catch the impromptu solar eclipse to the head.

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Anyway, here is a 100 or so word story I wrote for the 100 Word Stories Podcast! on with the show…

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