SOCIAL NETWORKING: A 100-WORD STORY

Brian was one of those people who sit at stoplights picking their noses, not caring whether they have an audience. And right now he was in full-on Booger-Hunt Mode, index finger crammed into his right nostril to the second knuckle.

Success! He carefully extracted the glistening prize, pausing a moment to examine it.

Now, a decision. Roll it between his fingertips, forming a flickable pellet, or wipe it on the floormat?

Neither. He carefully applied it to the window. Within moments, his friends all knew of his achievement, thanks to the newest, most revolting social networking site of all...

Paste-Boog.

THE OATH: A 100-WORD SPECULATIVE TALE

[The following is a 100-word Guest Post by Houston Steve - and his first-ever 100-word story.]

In 2021 I was a 14 year old immigrant; carried my green card everywhere. No telling when a policeman would reasonably suspect I was illegal.

I envied the Americans. When we entered a building, they weren’t questioned, but someone would always demand to see my “papers.” I looked like them; talked like them. Texans sounded more out of place here in Massachusetts.

In 2026 I took the oath. Afterwards a syringe was inserted behind my right ear. It was injected.

Those doorpost flags were readers, not American mezuzahs. Now I was like my friends, and I had my American citizenchip.

A 100-WORD PASSOVER STORY

Forty years they had wandered the desert, seeking the Promised Land. Forty years they had complained... and God was getting sick of hearing it. He summoned Moses for a conference.

“Forty years of bitching, Moses. Are My people never satisfied?”

Moses cast his eyes downward. “Well, Lord, we’ve been in the wilderness an awfully long time. That, we can handle... but most of us haven’t crapped in years!”

God asked the angel Gabriel, “What the hell have you been feeding the Israelites? Manna shouldn’t block ’em up like that!”

“Manna? But I’ve been sending them matzoh! What’s the difference, anyway?”


This Passover toilet seat cover reminds us of one of the unfortunate side effects of eating unleavened bread for eight days. A tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Jerry Foster for the photo.

BREAKING CAMP: A 100-WORD STORY

Bailey finally decided to call it quits. His lengthy hitch qualified him for a full pension, and he was sick to death of Camp Swampy. Sarge had been bad enough, but the officious Lieutenant Fuzz had put him dangerously close to the edge. Enough was enough.

Shit, he thought. All those years in the Army and still a lousy PFC.

Screw that. He had come into a small inheritance, and with it he planned to open a bar. But what to call it?

When he came up with “The Foo Bar,” he knew his old buddy Smokey would be proud.

FAT TUESDAY: A 100-WORD STORY

Morty loved Mardi Gras.

A recent convert to Catholicism, he had embraced his new faith wholeheartedly, if not wholestomachedly. Try as he might, he could not give up the culinary traditions with which he had grown up. No Easter ham for him: his table was reserved for braised brisket and chopped liver.

Lent was difficult because he truly regarded it as a penitential period. From Ash Wednesday until Easter, Morty would practice strict self-denial, completely avoiding something he loved.

As he did every year, he would give up schmaltz and gribenes.

But that was tomorrow. Today was... Chicken Fat Tuesday!

PYGMY KING: A VERY SHORT STORY

As pygmies go, Mbogo was a veritable giant. Though only 70 centimeters tall, he was a Zulu warrior to his tribesmen.

He stood before them in the jungle clearing behind the abandoned refinery, contemplating the sign written in letters of the colonial past: “VERBODEN TE ROKEN!!!”

Mbogo would never admit to his men that he knew no Flemish... or any of the other languages he claimed to speak fluently.

Pulling a large Cuban from his pocket, he unsheathed his golden lighter as though it were a machete. He thumbed the flint...

...and the town went up like a fused atom.

[Based on a story by Cousin Eli.]

THE BOSS: A 100-WORD STORY

“Bubba” Carnaroli had come down from New York back in the late 1990’s, tired of the cold weather, the crowds, and the competition. He settled himself in the midst of the Volunteer State, where he saw plenty of opportunity for a savvy businessman... and where the moderate climate suited his temperament.

In less than two decades, he had put together a hugely profitable business. Drugs, prostitution, loansharking, gambling... he had his fingers in all the pies.

Even better, he was a successful restauranteur. Carnaroli’s Risotto Houses were packed every night: the perfect front for the Boss of the Tennessee Rackets.

THE NEW VENTURE: A 100-WORD STORY

Dan’s new venture exceeded all expectations. His order book was full, and his appointment calendar was crammed with home demonstrations.

He smiled. If this kept up, he could buy that Boxster he wanted. Oh, yeah, that’d attract the ladies. And that meant more customers... for those ladies flocked to buy his products, the best in the business.

No cheap materials for him. Triple-ply stainless with a copper core, his wares conducted heat perfectly and could be used with just a smidgen of oil.

Dan was poised for success, proudly offering the finest, most durable designer dildos: Steely Dan’s Waterless Cockware!

IN A BLUE MOOD: A 100-WORD STORY

Tsu’ris was slow to suit up. Last out of the locker room, as usual.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love the sport. He did. Everyone did. It was about the only thing the Sky People had taught them that was worth more than a thanator turd.

No: It was the opposing team. They made him nervous, with their strange green skin. His friends made rude jokes about them… and he knew the dislike was mutual. More than once, he had heard one of them mutter “bloogie” under his breath.

No matter. It was time.

Time for the annual Ar’mi-Na’vi game.

ACE: A 100-WORD STORY

Duff was worn out. Bored.

His bakery was world-famous, thanks to his Food Network show. Everyone went to him when they wanted the most whimsical, unusual, or just plain impressive creations. But the constant stress of having to outdo himself day after day was beginning to pall.

He needed a new career. But what?

Suddenly, a flush of inspiration struck. He would take his creative talents and turn them in a new, unexpected direction that would allow him to impress a completely different audience.

Decorating ideas began to flow. He set to work...

...as the new Ace of Urinal Cakes.

THE VISIONARY: A 100-WORD STORY

Milton was a visionary.

As his fledgling confectionery business grew beyond his wildest imaginings, he envisioned constructing an entire town, a home in which his enterprise could flourish. But he wanted no grimy factory burg populated by grey-faced wage slaves. No: His would be an archetypical American village with tree-lined streets, complete with schools, public transportation, a park... and an educated, happy workforce.

And he made it so.

But how would people get there? Milton’s town was, put charitably, in the sticks. And so he built a road... and his enterprise succeeded brilliantly.

Today, millions travel the famous Hershey Highway.

PRACTICAL MATTERS: A 100-WORD STORY

Being Superman sounds exciting, but believe me, there are practical matters that most people never consider.

The costume, for example.

Wearing a Super-Suit under your street clothes is a pain. It’s hot. And then there was that time I found out that Korean food was like kryptonite to my bowels. I ate a pile of kimchi and bulgogi once, and it was horrendous. Getting out of my khakis was one thing, but those tights? And the cape? Fuhgeddaboudit. It took a week to get the Stool-Gogi stains out.

And after that infamous Lois Lane incident, forget about ever getting laid.

BATTLIN’ BATRACHIANS:A 100-WORD WAR STORY

Every advance in technology brings with it, it seems, advances in Man’s ability to murder his fellow man. From sharpened flints to projectiles and bombs of increasing destructiveness, we have forced Science into service as the handmaiden of bloody Mars.

We have harnessed the forces that power the stars, all for the ability to vaporize whole cities.

Today, inspired by an ancient Biblical plague, modern technology brings us the latest in bioengineered weaponry.

Picture it: Gene-spliced carnivorous amphibians the size of Volkswagens, skin exuding deadly toxin, running amok amongst our enemies.

Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the frogs of war!

THE HARD SHELL: A 100-WORD STORY

Me, I like to go a long time between car washes. It’s not that I’m cheap or anything (well, maybe a little); it’s just that I like to be able to see the difference afterwards. Filth-encrusted jalopy goes in, shiny new ride comes out.

Today, though, I opted for the Full Monty. Wash, vacuum, shine the wheels and hubcaps. And I plumped for the Turtle Wax, which adds $500 to the bill.

I know that sounds like a lot, but Turtle Wax is expensive. You need a lotta little Q-Tips to get the wax outta all them tiny turtle ears...

EXCREMENTRICITY: A 100-WORD STORY

Fossil fuel supplies were dwindling fast. Worse, they were located in remote places, places often ruled by tinpot dictators and corrupt kings. Clean, cheap nuclear power had scary disadvantages, like waste disposal. Wind and water power were hostage to geography and required costly, high-maintenance equipment.

The search for an inexpensive, inexhaustible supply of energy frustrated scientists for years, but it was just another challenge to be overcome by Cristobal “Colon” Carlinsky.

When Carlinsky discovered how to convert shit to electricity, he was hailed as a genius, becoming wealthy beyond measure. The world rejoiced.

Doodiecell: The Copro-Top Battery. Get one today!

YOU MAY ALREADY BE A WIENER:A 100-WORD ELEGY

Oscar Mayer, whose grandfather helped found his namesake company, has gone to the Great Sausage Grinder in the Sky. He was ninety-five.

Oscar Mayer (the company) stood out from its competitors partly because of its catchy jingles... and the Wienermobile.

At Mayer’s request, the Wienermobile will not make an appearance at his sendoff: Unlike his father and grandfather before him, he wished to avoid the funerary spectacle of a car shaped like a giant Meat-Dick.

Me, if my bologna had a first name and a last name that matched mine, I’d want that Wienermobile at my funeral. As the hearse.

BOIL: A 100-WORD STORY

Stu Frogmore had lived in Charleston all his life, as befit someone whose family roots stretched back to the days when the Battery was first built.

He loved everything about his home town. While others might gripe about heat, humidity, and the occasional hurricane, Stu just smiled. When Northern transplants complained about the leisurely pace of life, he simply felt sorry for them.

And he loved the food.

Only thing he hated was the massive carbuncles that would grow ’twixt his scrotum and anus, owing to the sweltering heat. There were few things more painful than a Low Country Boil.

R.I.P. MICKEY MOUSE:A 100-WORD OBITUARY

Well, not Mickey Mouse precisely... but Wayne Allwine, who voiced Mickey beginning in 1983, inheriting the Mickey Mantle (as it were) from Jimmy MacDonald, who had himself inherited it from Walt Disney.

Allwine passed away May 18 from complications of diabetes - and from repeatedly having his nutsack squeezed in a vise in order to propel his voice into those upper octaves.

Requiescat in pace, good Mr. Allwine. You leave an enviable legacy: Your squeaky voice will live on for centuries after you, embedded in late 20th-century American culture like unto a fly in amber. It is no small honor.

[Tip o’ th’ Elisson fedora to Cartoon Brew for the background.]

RAFT FOR THE ROSES: A 100-WORD STORY

It was, arguably, the most famous race in history, and this year’s would be no exception.

The first Saturday in May dawned sunny and humid in Callao. Conditions were excellent with a light offshore breeze.

The contestants were all ready at the starting gate, their huge balsa rafts ready to catch the evening tide. The handicappers exchanged their last-minute opinions; bettors placed their wagers. The fact that the results would not be known for four months dampened nobody’s enthusiasm.

Peru to Polynesia: It was a challenge that not all would survive.

O, to be the winner of the Kon-Tiki Derby!

THE INTERRUPTED PIRATES:A 100-WORD SEA STORY

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“The Interrupting Pirate.”

“The Interrup…”

“Arrrrrrhhh!”

This joke used to crack us up when we were kids. Timing was everything.

I wasn’t laughing right now, though. Somali pirates were attacking our ship. The crackle of small-arms fire filled the air as the Somalis prepared to board.

The usual game. Hold us hostage, collect the ransom, move on. Insurance would pay the owners.

Not this time. As the pirates strode confidently on deck, laughing, Charlie interrupted them with the M134 Minigun, which promptly converted them into piles of gristle amidst pools of blood.

Yep: Timing is everything.

[The topic of Weekly Challenge #158 at the 100 Word Stories Podcast is Knock Knock.]