After your funeral, I met with the representative from the hospital.

They had the malpractice settlement ready for me. All I had to do was sign my life away.

So I did, and swallowed the pill from the Hemlock Society.

It tastes like... strawberries.

I could have been selfish and taken the first offer they gave me: growing a clone of you.

Healthy. Happy. Together.

But there would still be me, always knowing, resentful of how their incompetence took you from me.

Why make you suffer that again?

We will both be born again, fresh and innocent.

Healthy. Happy. Together.

Dr. Timothy Bleary was one of the Hallowed Names in gastroenterology in the 1960’s.

Among his many contributions to the field were diagnostic imaging technologies that allowed physicians, with minimally invasive procedures, to identify intestinal ailments with amazing accuracy. Patients would line up around the block to secure a coveted appointment with the good doctor, knowing that he could figure out what afflicted them, effecting a cure while other gastroenterologists could only scratch their heads in puzzlement.

Amazingly, it was under the influence of LSD that Bleary invented his greatest diagnostic tool.

Of course you’ve heard of it: the Colitis-Scope.

You know that old Polish joke about losing the recipe for ice?

Well, that joke has my friend George Koslowski written all over it.

Most folks, when they stick a tray full of water in the freezer, they pull out a tray full of ice.

George, if he's not following the recipe on his notecard, pulls out the best Chicken Florentine you ever tasted.

He did this trick on Letterman the other night. Paul Shafer begged for seconds.

George didn't join Dave and Paul at the table. He went out for a hamburger after the show.

He's allergic to spinach.

Every five minutes, the strange man in the top hat pulls a lit candle out of his coat, bends over, and places it on the ground.

He stands back up, and then waits.

For five minutes.

Then, he does it all over again.

Where he's getting these candles, I have no idea.

But he's been doing it for a while. There's at least a mile of candles along the Interstate.

Strange thing - it's windy out, but the candles stay lit.

Nobody's stopping, either. They're just driving by, completely ignoring the weird scene on the side of the road.

Their loss.

I was walking along the beach when a swarm of crabs came out of the ocean and began walking in unusual geometric formations before my very eyes.

Then, they stacked up in a pyramid, building up until the crab at the tippy top got in position, waving its claws around.

After gracefully disassembling the pyramid, they slowly walked back into the ocean.

Last night, it was turtles.

The night before, it was lobsters.

Do you think the ocean is trying to tell us something?

Probably, but I sure do like the gymnastics routines.

I wonder what will do them tomorrow.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Three, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was selected by Daphne Abernathy, who is going for broke with...

It's Steamer Trunk.

The excellent theme music is by Guy David

VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

STEVEN

(The background sounds were from Metamorphmuses at the Freesound Project. )

"Are we supposed to be up here?"

The third attic stair squeaked before I answered my sister's whine.

"Mom is gone for the afternoon. I am bored and in charge until they get
back. So yes."

The attic was full of Grandmother's old stuff. Here there was a stack of
yellowing magazines, there were some musty papers and old books. Under it
all was the prize: Her old steamer trunk, blackened with age and oil.

"Bobby, I heard Grandma was a witch."

Pandora Spyros, Grandma's name, was written just above the latch. I ignored
my sister and opened Grandmother's box.

TOM

The horizon of London was as still as death. Maria and Cervantes moved passed Bishopsgate. They were play connect the dot using the ever iconic nightingales, beck left, beck right. "I think were here." Said Maria. Beck down. They pried the manhole cover and started down the vertical stairs. At the bottom of the shaft two shadows took form and demanded a password.

Cervantes replied, " pierce the hallow of thee ear." The men grunt and led them down the sewers. After an hour the quartet was standing in front of Quatermain his foot resting on a venting steamer trunk.

DAPHNE

We don't have many luxuries down here. The dampness destroys most things. Leave a book out too long, the pages become swollen and warped. Photos stick together. Clothes get musty and moldy. I'm lucky, I thought ahead. I pack my few treasured belongings into an old steamer trunk. It was designed to keep out the moisture. I have a few photo albums, some favorite books, extra clothes and a music box. I can't play it as often as I'd like, it would draw attention from above, but when I feel brave I wind it up and let it play.

TERRY

Bizroc happily scurried into the kitchen, amazed at the good luck of his hunting mere minutes ago.

The earthling had been so easily confused; Bizroc had hardly appeared when the earthling froze in his tracks, unable to move.

Then, it had been so easy, no thick armored skin like any of the local animals, one swipe of his fangs and he had enough meat for both him and his wife.

While he thought of his good luck, Bizroc put the large chuck of meat into the Steamer Trunk to let it hydrate and cook, they would be eating good tonight.

GUY

It looked like an old treasure chest. As we entered the attic, the old steamer truck grandma hidden away glowed slightly. “We shouldn't be here” said Judy, “What if your grandma comes back? I'm afraid of what she would do”. “Oh, relax”, I said, “She's hanging around with that Lony. They won't be here for a while”.

As we approached the old chest, I noticed the box had what looked like a face, and it was smiling slightly.

Suddenly, we heard the door opening, and my grandma was standing there, then she smiled slightly and turned Judy to a frog.

JD

The auction was at the old warehouse at the end of Cunard Rd.

I had read in the paper that there would be many unopened bags and trunks.

I stood with my bid stick and watch as small leather bags and large suitcases were sold.

I bid and was out bid throughout the day.

Near the end only a few people remained when the Steamer Trunk was wheeled out.

Old and beaten the trunk called to me.

I bid and won.

It smelled of mold and mildew.

On the tag handwritten in fading ink were the words.

Southampton, England, Titanic.

PLANET XRAY

Jack opened the Steamer Trunk, quickly stuffing the Nightingale Sister's limp, lifeless bodies inside. Throwing in the red rose, he lost sight of the petals against the blood soaked dresses. Using rags, he wiped up the rest of the blood and tossed them inside also, locking the Trunk.

His hobby so easy; there were so many young ladies who believed that young men wanted nothing more than to be in their company and spend money.

Dragging the trunk slowly down the stairs, he opened the door and tossed the trunk into the underground river, to a life in the sewers.

SOUGENT

The plan was foolproof, its execution was perfect, nothing could possibly go wrong. The steamer trunk was ready, large enough you could stuff a body into it.

It wasn't much of a struggle in the end, shortly after the cake was delivered, the coup de grâce was also.

It was quite absurd, really, to believe he would be much of a challenge.

He reached up and brushed some cake crumbs from his lapel, shook his head sadly and closed the lid of the steamer trunk which now contained a jumble of parts, the remains of one slightly ambitious robotic butler.

EVAMOON

Alma shut the lid and punched in her code. Again. When she opened the box, it was still empty. Damn infomercials! It was supposed to be the best new thing to solve household storage problems. Using the new transdimensional gateway technology, you could fit all your stuff in a box about the size of a steamer trunk. All coded for instant retrieval. Except now it wasn¹t giving anything back. Anything that went in was just gone. And the tech support lines were disconnected.

Alma stood, dusted her hands, and called to discontinue her garbage
collection service.

CRAIG

Her thoughts got lost in the the neighborhood as she walked.

Lead paint pealing, washing into the gutters mixing with fluids from obnoxious realms, flowing into their taps.

Yellow and gray floating in and out of apt windows, children’s lungs tattooed with rust.

Sally pushed through the fear, sweat beading like pearls on spandex.

Hurried little laughs echoed from doorways.

Inching her stilettos over the smooth cobblestones Sally felt people watching her, following her.

Opening the door to her grandfathers old factory. Holding her breath unlocking the steamer trunk, reaching inside with one quick motion, pulling out her Teddy Bear.

ANIMA

The dapper secret agent stands up in front of the large steamer trunk. Quick footsteps are heard receding in the tunnel below.

"Artie, I have to go after Loveless…"

"If you don't stop him Jim, he will use the Ultrasonic Reverberator to destroy the railroad trestle. The President and all the European ambassadors will die!"

"Train of fools…" mutters Jim.

Jim stomps his boots; knives shoot from the toes. He lowers himself into the trunk, front-pointing into the mine shaft.

"And Artie, could you change into the strumpet outfit… that green dress does bring out your eyes...

TERRENCE

Dropping the dead bird it landed with a thud next to the old wooden box. Raoul gave the box a kick. It started to click and shake. Raoul watched as it got louder and louder until it climaxed with a short quiet pop.

The bird slowly stood and looked up at him. Raoul punted the bird across the field out of sight. He couldn't believe that people all over the world searched for the box. Sure it had it's uses, but it wasn't like they would ever believe that this ragged looking steam trunk was the Ark of the Covenant.

PLANET Z

The Blue Fairy gave Pinocchio the gift of life, but with life, comes the curse of pain and death.

Gepetto warned Pinocchio that life was a lot more dangerous for a real boy than a little wooden puppet.

Pinocchio laughed. “I'm not made of wood, Papa,” he said. “If I put my arm in a fire...”

To this day, as he looks down at the trembling child, cowering inside of a steamer trunk and begging for the lid to be brought down again, shutting out the horrors of the outside world, Gepetto regrets ever having carved that block of wood.

The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic.

Sounds, simple, doesn't it?

Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week reveals the triumphant Will Ross bringing the topic of Zombies to the masses.

You have until midnight on Friday April 11th to get the following in my hot little hands:

• The text of your story so I can post it on the site. Just post the text of the story in the body of your email message. Do not put it in Word, Word Perfect, Sun Office, or any other document format. Just copy-paste the text into the body of the message. This will save me the hassle of firing off another program to read it and it will reduce the chances that gmail will flag your message as Spam.

• If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated.

• What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #105 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on.

• A recording of your story in .mp3 format.

If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets.

Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in.

Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment.

Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have.

Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief.

Ted says that you can use your underwear twice by turning it inside out.

“That's good to know, Ted,” I say.

What's weird is that he does the same thing with envelopes.

I didn't know that you could do that with envelopes, turning them inside out and addressing them again, but Ted can do it. He's really good with folding paper.

Now, this only works with plain white envelopes, mind you. If you do this with a packing envelope, you can't write on the packing material they glue to the inside of it.

Or, I mean, outside.

Just ask Ted.

Radar laments not having a consistent opening line.

The reason why I have a consistent opening and closing to my podcast is... it's scripted.

And awfully damn short, too.

Most parents tell their kids bedtime stories, but Joe, he told his kids wakeup stories.

Happened every morning. First, they'd get themselves a good night's sleep. Then, when the sun came up, they'd open their eyes, and they'd see their dad, sitting on the side of the bed and watching them.

“What story do you want to hear?” he'd ask, giggling like a maniac.

The kids tried setting their alarm clocks earlier, but Joe was right there, ready for them.

Pretty soon, the kids stopped sleeping at all.

So, you don't like my bedtime stories, Susie?

Ohhhhhhh... okay.

Thought so.

Many thanks to Gomem DeSoto and Stuart Warf for pointing out the incorrect file name.

Damn Chinks killing the shit out of Tibetans pissed off a bunch of folks, so they went after the Olympic Torch with water buckets and fire extinguishers.

I mean, how hard is it to put out a torch that some geeks in track suits are running all over the world?

It's not as easy as you think, but if you put some effort into it, it becomes a sport in an of itself.

It took a while to get traction, but Torch Dowsing became an official Olympic event in 2016.

Now protesters do their best to keep the thing lit.

Spring is here, and that can only mean one thing –

Baseball.

It’s something you can’t experience through the television or the radio.

Go to the park.
Buy peanuts and beer.
Root, root for the home team.

And then, you head for the bathroom, take off all your clothes, and run as fast as you can for the field.

Nothing quite like streaking bare-assed naked.

Try it at home. It just isn’t the same as when you’re there.

The roar of the crowd.
The shouting cops.
The wind in my hair.

Seven bucks for beer?
You can kiss my ass, man!

Molly says that the blowtorch had a label that said FOR ALL AGES but I think it’s a misprint.

“If they thought it was dangerous, it would say KEEP OUT OF THE REACH OF CHILDREN, wouldn’t it?” she said.

“I guess so,” I say. “But not everything that’s dangerous for kids has a warning label on it.”

“If it was dangerous, it wouldn’t have FOR ALL AGES on it. It’s safe.”

I had a gut feeling Molly was wrong, but I couldn’t come up with a response.

So, I gently placed the blowtorch in the crib and removed the handgun.

I think the podcast's MP3 archive at thetypingmonkey is back.

It got misrouted in DNS by accident when we did the server changeover.

During that time, nobody wrote me to say they couldn't get the daily stories.

Hrm... I wonder if that's saying something.

The sign on the bathroom door says that all employees must wash their hands before returning to work.

Lefty McGinty just looks at the sign, clacks his hooks together, and goes back to his desk.

He writes up memoes using speech recognition software, you know.

Talks into microphone and the words appear on the screen.

He's got a special mouse for doing edits and that kind of stuff. He's gotten really good with those hooks.

But I keep thinking of him in the bathroom. Those hooks. And his... his...

Scary stuff.

I guess he's gotten really good with those hooks.

I think the podcast's MP3 archive at thetypingmonkey is back.

It got misrouted in DNS by accident when we did the server changeover.

During that time, nobody wrote me to say they couldn't get the daily stories.

Hrm... I wonder if that's saying something.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Four, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was selected by , who is going for broke with...

It's Zombies.

The excellent theme music is by Guy David

VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

TOM M

The great leviathan with her, barnacle encrusted, titanium platinum alloy hull, lurked beneath her prey. For centuries automated systems kept the great beast functional. Her crew long dead.

Mindless, Soulless, and without remorse, the powerful zombie of the deep, targeted the yacht. The yacht shuddered a second, as steam and light came from below and tore it asunder. Debris drifted around it, as the hulking monster receded back to the deep to recharge.

The search continues but the warm Caribbean waters had claimed another victim. Meanwhile in the inky depths of the ocean an ancient terror recharges, repairs and waits.

MIKE A

I was really starting to hate autumn. The reddish leaves were pretty, but since I usually saw them only at night, I preferred them brown; it made it less difficult to move unseen through the woods. No, the problem was this: autumn always saw a major increase in the number of zombies, almost like some bizarre perversion of Spring. I almost have to double the number of traps, which cuts into my sleeping time. Unfortunately, you can't cut into the 'reproduction cycle' by just eating them. Some of my fellow werewolves had tried, and no good had come of it.

JOEL H

Slow, shiftless, lifeless meat sacs roaming aimlessly without a purpose. One is young, thin and never stops smiling. The other is old, brittle and cannot move without pain. The third is flawless even in his current state; the envy of the others.

The fourth, once a big hero in Houston is now a lifeless corpse floating in the Hudson. The fifth, a man once so strong he could move mountains, i
s tired at the thought of merely eating brains. You look at these men, defeated, dead and without a purpose and you must ask yourself…

what happened to the Mets' offense?

HOTSPUR O'TOOLE

Phosphorous, the old man said. Their bodies generate phosphorous when they have finally collapse from hunger. I don’t care. They have always resembled giant glowing mushrooms at night. Cleanup duty isn’t too awful, once you get past the stench. Kind of peaceful. I just keep my bandana tied tight under my nose and wear my steel toed boots, in case of wrigglers with intact jaws. Tonight was a surprise. Old Mrs.Garrigus, the den mother. I remembered. She had turned in the middle of a pack meeting. “Ain’t that a kick in the head”, I mused, reaching for my axe handle.

GUY DAVID

I was just about to wrap up things at the office, when Barney went by me running and chased by a zombie. Now, it's not everyday you see your coworker being chased by a zombie around the office, so this aroused my curiosity. Now – where did this zombie come from, who bit who? Was this zombie bitten by his girlfriend in the middle of some steamy sex? Ooh, think what a damper this could put on his sex life. Maybe he was bitten by a salesman. Now – this would definitely kill his insurance deal. That's what I call sloppy salesmanship.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

Hush. Do not say another word.

You stand out. You are not dressed like them - no suit, no power tie, no
flag pin. They swarm downtown during the day. Nighttime is safer; they
shelter in their homes.

I can pass among them. I can rattle off last week's scores and the
contestants on the reality TV shows. You have to talk in soundbites, not
analysis. Are you stupid? They will eat your brain if they notice you.

Damn. My co-workers. Follow my lead.

Bobby! Yeah, shame about last night. We were just talking about who got
voted off, right?

Right?

CALEB BULLEN

In Haiti, zombies don’t eat yer brain like in de movies. In Haiti, de zombies are real. In de old time dey used to work as servants or mebbe in de plantation. Now most zombies sit in de cubicle writing SPAM or tech support. I got one zombie he do me taxes, another designed me website, “voodoo warrior dot com”.

Course we keep our zombies docile by filling dem with drugs and mind numbing messages so dey work and work without tryin improve dere situation. How you keep yer zombies workin? Budwieser? McDonalds? Lindsey Lohan as News? Just Like Haiti!

TERRY TEE

Bizroc and his wife walked along the tunnel with the satisfaction of full stomachs for the first time in many months. Like every worship day, they had joined their neighbors, marching like zombies, silently down the tunnel toward the worship hall.

They continued to march, getting closer to the meeting hall, becoming increasingly aware that something was different today.

Maybe different wasn't the correct word, they were in for something special, special and profound, from the sounds of the choir.

Bizroc wondered if it pertained to the earthling, as he and his wife had found so sweet and delicious.

DAPHNE

I went to the surface today. We needed supplies. It was night and I stayed in the shadows but I watched out for the 'Zombies'. They aren't really Zombies, not the walking undead, but more like humans who after it happened... well they kind of died inside. If you looked at their eyes, there is nothing there, just a vacant stare. But never look at them, if you ever see one, hide. Find a dark corner, alley, open manhole, some place dark and stay there being very quiet and very still. Be very careful, you don't want to be caught.

PLANET XRAY

I lie awake at night thinking of love I have lost because of what I didn't say.

My first love came early in life, Pamela, and at a time when we could be carefree, with the whole world out there.

We would spend afternoons on those cold, winter days, next to the fireplace listening to our LPs.

We would have them all stacked up on the stereo spindle ready to go, The Beatles, Turtles, and our favorite, The Zombies.

The rhythm of our love keeping beat to the Zombies' music.

Now all lost, because I didn't say,

I Love You

ELISSON

When he first awakened in the grotto’s gloom, a spasm of pain in his side jolted him to his feet. That was when he realized how desperately hungry he was.

Where was he, anyway? All he could remember was being lifted high, being stabbed in the side, the taunting voices. His hands and ankles ached; in his mouth was a lingering taste of vinegar.

Standing up, he could barely see the rock blocking the exit. Ignoring the agony in his feet, he pushed it aside.

Out in the desert sun, all he could think was: I’m famished. “Bra-a-a-ains...” he moaned.

ANIMA

Zoe has slipped from the realm of the living.

Once, she was a caring, vibrant woman who volunteered at the shelter .Now she worries if she can get a manicure Tuesday.

Maury Povich is her bokor. Hooked on "Hard Copy" and "A Current Affair", Zoe has lost her consciousness. She is a Psychological Zombie.

But I can't let her go..

I know I can help. Given a strong enough emotional connection to the mortal world, zombies can break the trance. Kidnapping Zoe's parents wasn't enough. This time, I'll take drastic measures on her lapdog.

Eventually, I will succeed.

TOM

Vapors squeezed from the steamer truck gather about Quatermain’s moustache. Cervantes noted Allan looked older as if something was finally wearing him down.

"What happening here?" asked Arnesto.

"You dear Cervantes. Your little journey through time has had dire effects. When you bleed time the body caporial loses blood to the brain. So many of our best and brightest have succumb so many Time Zombies."

"Zombies … that’s why life is in the sewers."

"Yes it something about higher levels of moisture. It’s a bloody miracle the nightingale got you to the Hub."

"The easy bake is our only hope."

HEDGIE

Ever since I became a zombie people have been saying to me "Bob, you're acting really weird". Sure, I enjoy the taste of brains now and then. And yeah, I'm technically dead but really I'm just a monster. Honestly though, I'm still a regular guy. My friends and I just saw a movie at the mall. We're all getting a little hungry though. Hey there's Tom! We used to work together. I think I'll go over and say hello. Maybe see if he would join us for a bite to eat.

JD

Of a morning one of them comes into my room and hands me the Clozapine in a small paper cup.

At noon they call me to lunch where they hand me the Risperidone, also in a small paper cup.

In the evening, when the darkness returns, they give me a new paper cup with new pills inside.

They will not tell me what the red and blue pills are.

Sometimes they don't catch me when I hid the pills under my tongue.

Later, in the early hours of morning, I cry.

Zombies can't cry, or laugh, or smile, or feel.

LAIEANNA

Civilization was wrong. The zombies aren't mindless. They just had a change in taste, and I agree with them. A good chef doesn't pass up any unusual or exotic ingredients for their dishes. When the world was handed to the zombies, I was ready to serve them with heavenly meals. My restaurant is perfect with a basement kitchen and closed in steel serving area. Getting past the diners for groceries and fresh meat is the hardest part. That's why I always welcome survivors to my sanctuary. Never keep your customers waiting for long by keeping a good stock of food.

TERRENCE

Raoul watched as the zombies crested the hill in the distance headed in his direction. At first the group was small, but more continued to pour over the hill. Now off to his right a hand reached up and then soon a human figure dragged itself from the ground.

The zombie looked at Raoul, it's jaw hanging from a few strands on flesh. Its right hand nothing but bone and a large hole in its chest through which you could see its slow beating heart and the small witherhunch. The good book never described resurrection of the dead like this.

SOUGENT

As he waited, the sweat trickled down his back, the humidity of this "tropical paradise" closed in around him like a soggy blanket. In the darkness, a cacophony of noise burst forth from the jungle, but that would all change when "they" came, the living did not take kindly to the creatures he was waiting for. The cessation of noise would be his first sign that the zombies had risen from their earthen abodes and were on the hunt. Their task for the night? To kill him. But he was ready for them, tonight the hunted would become the hunter.

PLANET Z

We're in here. Zombies are out there.

I'd like to keep it that way.

Not Duffy. Every night, he sees his wife on the monitors.

“You've gotta let me save her!” he says.

No. Even if he finds her, there's no cure.

“I don't care,” he says. “I made a vow. I'm going out there .”

There's a difference between In Sickness And In Health and Till Death Do Us Part.

Guilt drives people like Duffy mad.

You see, those cameras were disconnected weeks ago.

Which is a good thing, because I didn't have to see Duffy swarmed, taken down, screaming.

The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic.

Sounds, simple, doesn't it?

Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week reveals the triumphant Evamoon bringing the topic of Taboo to the masses.

You have until midnight on Friday April 18th to get the following in my hot little hands:

• The text of your story so I can post it on the site. Just post the text of the story in the body of your email message. Do not put it in Word, Word Perfect, Sun Office, or any other document format. Just copy-paste the text into the body of the message. This will save me the hassle of firing off another program to read it and it will reduce the chances that gmail will flag your message as Spam.

• If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated.

• What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #105 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on.

• A recording of your story in .mp3 format.

If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets.

Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in.

Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment.

Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have.

Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief.

The children play in the woods despite our warning them repeatedly it's not safe out there.

The kids say they're safe. Don't worry about us. We're fine.

Kids can be stupid.

Henderson came up with a plan to knock some sense into them.

We all put on animal skins and wore scary masks, then we went to the forest to wait for the kids.

The moment the kids showed up, we'd jump out and scare them.

Kids can be stupid.

Instead, when we jumped out, the kids shot at us with their guns.

I guess parents can be stupid too.

In honor of the anniversary of Abraham Lincoln's assassination, I got off my ass and finished one of these draft posts languishing in my spike file...

President Abraham Lincoln toiled in the White House kitchen most nights, well past the break of dawn, napping during boring cabinet meetings or falling asleep during reports by his generals.

Just as General Grant reeked of bourbon, Abe reeked of candy.

“Why do you torture yourself this way?” asked Mary Todd.

“The time will never come in this country when the people won't know exactly what sugar-coated means,” said Abe, and he returned to the kitchen.

Under his suit, his skin shone with a glossy hard candy shell.

Soon, he’d be invulnerable to small arms fire.

But, soon enough?

After I picked out the quote, this only took about 15 minutes to write.

If only I could do that 10 more times, I'd finally be able to hit the final stories of the cycle that have already been written.

I open my eyes. It’s dark.

I close my eyes. It’s dark.

I blink them a few times.

No difference. It’s dark.

All I remember is standing here in the dark.

Nothing before that.

I feel my head.

It feels wet… sticky…

Is that blood?

I stick a finger in my mouth and taste the wetness.

It’s blood. My head is bloody.

And I can’t remember anything but being here.

I reach ahead… a wall. A wall to my left side… my right side… I turn around… one’s there too.

I reach up. A roof.

And it’s wet and sticky.

I decided to check out the topic of the day at 100wordstories.com.

It was "Close your eyes and leap."

I've notices a lot of hits coming from Stumbleupon.

Thanks for your support, and if I were to put StumbleUpon and Digg and other shortcuts on posts, would y'all find them helpful and actually use them?

Some sites have a dozen of those suckers at the bottom of their posts, and I used to have them here.

Generating next-to-nothing and nothing, of course.

So, if y'all want 'em and will use them, I'll add them. Just shout out in the comments, okay?

They say you can’t put the genie back in the bottle.

This is not true

First, you have to club the genie in the back of the head, knocking them unconscious.

Then, slit their throat with a knife.

Cut them up into smallish pieces that will fit in an industrial blender.

Finally, with the blender set on Liquefy, render the genie into a slurry.

Oh, and you might need a plastic kitchen funnel so you don’t spill any.

I used to dissolve genies with acid in my bathtub, but it’s so much easier to pour them straight from the blender.

On the off chance you've wandered over here from the Crap Mariner blog looking for my podcast roundup, that blog's still on strike.

The roundup will be posted on Friday

“What the hell’s that racket?” growls the boss.

It’s not a racket, I say. Joe’s been beating the copier with a five iron.

The boss tells me to make Joe stop, so I head for the copier room.

Joe’s got a five iron in his hands, and he’s beating the copier.

Pieces are flying all over the room, but the jam has yet to clear.

I sigh. This is not what it says in the owner’s manual.

The owner’s manual calls for a six iron.

I try to tell Joe this, but his caddy keeps me out of the drive-line.

It was time for Jack to go.

Jack liked where he was, but when it's time, it's time.

He packed his things. They all fit in a single cardboard box.

Jack never owned more than he could pack in a single cardboard box.

If he ever bought anything, he'd give away something about the same size.

A new book for an old book. New shoes for old shoes.

What he bought to eat, he ate. The pantry was empty.

Balance.

He picked up the box, looked around, and walked out the door.

Another man named Jack walked in, carrying a cardboard box.

A new Jack for an old Jack.

Balance.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Five, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was selected by Evamoon, who is going for broke with...

It's Taboo.

The excellent theme music is by Guy David

VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

CALEB

Alright fellas, listen up! This bread is my body. And this grape jelly, this is my blood; my sweet, congealed blood. And this peanut butter is my uh… my holy spirit? Put them all together like so and…

mmmm… I am DELICIOUS!

Wow, you have got to try this!

“but uh Jesus, we can’t have bread right now, it’s Passover!”

Oh come on, that old taboo? Don’t be so superstitious, Pete.

“But Jesus, won’t your father smite us?”

It’s the holidays, I got my boys right here, I’ve got this awesome sandwich, what could go wrong?
“Praetorian Guard! Open up!”

ALMO

Traffic on the beltway was a maze stuffed with hundreds of rats. The civic cut me off to move three car-lengths. When I got beside him, I flipped him the bird and felt better. The bar was hot and crowded. They guy next to me elbowed my beer, sloshing it on my shirt. "Asshole," I said. I felt better. The convenience store line crawled. The kid in front of me was turning out his pants pockets looking for change. "C'mon," I said, finally exasperated. "You're holding everyone up." I felt better. Then he turned around and shot me.

GUY DAVID

Here at Taboo unlimited, we concentrate on creating the most modern and up to date taboos, ranging from technology driven superstitions to new age health food misconceptions. Right now, we are working on a very special set of taboos, ordered especially by a wealthy martian tycoon. We use the latest technology to create this taboo that makes people think robots are immoral and deplorable. It's amazing what you could do using social networking and other web 2.0 techniques. It works like clockwork, only, we just discovered clockworks are the weapon of robots. I think we might be done for it.

TOM

Maria set the easy bake in front of the steamer truck. Allan opened the lid to reveal wafer upon wafer of titanium conductors. "Here’s the deal Mave we will bleed the time goo you got in that tin into the Hub and up to the topside. It’ll take about 35 years. According to the Book it’s got a steep draw back, major fertility drop." "What’s this going to cost Allan?" ask the wearier time travel. "Inter family mating." Cervantes Victorian sensible heaved at the breach in taboo. "In fact you might want to leave a little something before you go."

TERRY TEE

Launch Director Haroldson pushed his secretary's slim body off his, wrapped a towel around himself, while turning up the sound on the TV. He heard the announcer speak of substandard workmanship and materials as being the main causes to the Phoenix's demise. All of which, where traced back to the Chinese manufacturing plants that had won the rights to building the spacecraft's landing module.

Well, that was nothing new, he thought, but as everyone knew, the current administration had made it taboo to criticize the Chinese in order to gain their support and their money for the mission to Mars.

EVAMOON

³I thought they¹d be round, like apples!²

³Better than apples,² came a languid reply from the branches.

She peered into the dense foliage of the tree, trying to make out the
sinuous form hidden in the shadows. The branches were heavy with ripe fruit.
Her hand barely reached around the long, fleshy cylinder as she plucked it.
Its bulbous end released an unfamiliar aroma that filled her head.

³Would you like to know how to properly enjoy the fruit of this tree?²

She hesitated for a moment, but her appetite was stirred.

³I really shouldn¹t.²

The long body uncoiled and rose. ³It will be our little secret.²

PLANET X

As he paced along the HMS Resolution deck, Captain Cook stared at his first officer and shouted, "It's tapu to eat that damn fruit?"

"No sir", Lieutenant Clerke responded, "The chief said it was taboo or forbidden to eat the fruit from the sacred tree"

"Taboo or not, that fruit is essential to preventing scurvy amongst the crew, why look at Old Murduck Mahoney on the last voyage" Cook replied.

"Sir, the chief said, no one was to eat that fruit, and sir, they don't have the taboo of making a sandwich out of me or you" Lieutenant Clerke replied.

JD

John 316 steps into the corridor.

Behind him the hatch, with a quite click, slides closed.

His calloused feet absorb the cold of the steel deck as he shivers in the darkness, eyes adjusting.

To his left and right pitch black meet his searching gaze.

Before him, illuminated by the dull red glow of a bulb in the overhead, a ladder stretches upward into darkness.

The boys, his brothers, in cratch 17-C-34 had taunted him because of his frailty.

They had always forced him to their will.

Now they had dared him.

He had broken the first taboo.

CRAIG

Ellen glided through the patio door without a sound till she was almost touching me.

Placing her hand on my shoulder she turned me to gaze deeply into her eyes, her hands then grabbed my collar pulling me closer.

With her silken honey voice Ellen said “engage me”.

Normally I reveled in her little challenges, I mean what else could create such delightful friction in my life.

This time however I was unnerved even a bit frightened as I sank deeper into her her eyes.
Ellen repeated “engage me” her words invited me on a road I knew was Taboo

THOMAS

“ A screamer, she had to be a screamer”, John thought, looking at his new bride. Providence gave him her so he could bless her and she him. He believed this marriage was ordained of God, but she didn't seem to . Only eleven she's a woman sooner than his other wives, however youth was no excuse to resist.

The Prophets knew. He knew. Soon she too would know the truth, submitting to him as unto God.

She sobbed as he wiped the blood from her mouth, gave her a long kiss, then forced himself onto her, eager for the next lesson.

STEVEN

Samantha always knew the exact location of the door. She knew the ways to exit any room. She knew when to run, when to hide, when to agree, when to be silent. These lessons were her mother's gifts.

His rampages were a time for silence.

She did not flinch as bits of smashed vase skittered across the
kitchen floor. The vase was her mother's. A shard came to rest
against her toe.

She looked up at him, angry in the kitchen doorway.

Samantha always knew the exact location of the door.

She also knew the exact location of the icepick.

DAPHNE

Thing that are taboo down here aren't on the surface and some the things that were taboo up there... well no one really cares about anymore. You just need to learn how things are different and respect the society we have going here. Most of our taboos are about personal space and privacy. We welcome all new comers, we are very happy you made it here safely. Just treat ever living creature down here with respect and you will fit in okay. And I mean every living creature... do you get that? Yes, even the rats and mice.

ANIMA

Crudites. Chateaubriand. Cheesecake

Sumptuous meals are her waking thoughts. Savory dishes she would eat, once she could fit into her wedding dress. It would mean so much to mother.

Mum was aghast when Sandy ballooned to a size 6. All those summers at fat camp, for naught. Never mind that Chick Corea could trade licks with Gary Burton on her ribcage. Or that she broke her ankle slipping thru the sewer grate.

Sandy pulls her feeding tube to go puke again. She'd look good in that Vera Wang confection, even if it kills her.

Only 5 more pounds…

LAIEANNA

Big city, little light, and a whole lot of people moving around. Momma squeezed my hand tight as she dragged me through the crowds. We raced past drunks and browsers, and pushed through groups watching street entertainers. The best attracted the most, only having to compete with the shocking. Like Naked Art, a group of unclothed men and women who did things to each other right on the street. All the appalled people couldn't stop watching. Momma whisked me away as fast as we had come to them, but I promised myself one day I would come back for more.

MIKE A

"...and so, Jarrod Rasmun, by reason of your repeated and willful violations of our people's strongest taboo, this council finds you guilty of violating the honor of our village. The ancient penalty for this crime is - death." "Most High Chief, I respectfully submit myself," and here Rasmun motioned to a nearby slave, "represented by..." "Not this time, Mr. Rasmun," the elder interrupted. "Your contempt for our laws and customs is clear. Your previous transgressions have cost five men an eye and a hand each; it is they, who will carry out your sentence. You see - matters of honor are always personal."

SOUGENT

Body parts lay scattered around him.

Zombies are tough customers all right, they keep coming even when all that's left of them are pieces.

With a crunch, he stomped on a disembodied hand that was attempting to climb up his pant leg.

What a mess. At least he didn't have to worry about the locals making a fuss, zombies were taboo in this neck of the woods, there would be nothing said and shortly after sunrise there wouldn't be any sign of this conflict, the locals would see to that.

He'd sent a pointed message tonight, but would anyone listen?

PLANET Z

It's game night tonight, but we can't decide on a game.

I want to play Monopoly. But nobody ever lets me be the banker.

My wife's got great eye-hand coordination, so Jenga's her choice.

Bobby knows all sorts of useless trivia, so Trivial Pursuit's his game.

And Little Suzie, well, she's only six, but what a mouth she has on her! I don't know where she learned all she knows for playing Taboo, but she hasn't lost a match yet.

This is how fights start.

I guess I'd better fill up the pitcher and get out the quarters again.

The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic and then you write and record a story based on that topic.

Sounds, simple, doesn't it?

Topics are selected by the winner of the previous weekly challenge. This week reveals the triumphant Caleb bringing the topic of Cereal to the masses.

You have until midnight on Friday April 25th to get the following in my hot little hands:

• The text of your story so I can post it on the site. Just post the text of the story in the body of your email message. Do not put it in Word, Word Perfect, Sun Office, or any other document format. Just copy-paste the text into the body of the message. This will save me the hassle of firing off another program to read it and it will reduce the chances that gmail will flag your message as Spam.

• If you have a blog, podcast, or other site that people can go to so they can learn more about your handiwork, the URL would be appreciated.

• What you would like the topic of Weekly Challenge #107 to be. Failure to send in a topic with your selection will mean that if you win, whoever is in second place will be considered for the topic, and so on.

• A recording of your story in .mp3 format.

If you do not feel like recording a story for the podcast, well, go ahead and send the story in anyway. I'll include it in the show notes, but it won't be eligible for choosing the topic or winning the magnets.

Send the stories to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com and then add a comment here saying you've sent it in.

Once all the stories are in, I'll assemble them into a single podcast collection for your enjoyment.

Good luck, and feel free to e-mail me with any questions you have.

Hear y'all in a week, and as always, keep it brief.

It's been fifty years since a train last came through here.

Still, the villagers keep the tracks clear, the rails rust-free, and they replace the wood ties every few years.

They think if they keep the tracks ready, a train will come some day.

“If you put food out on your porch, you get cats,” says the mayor. “So we figure the same for trains, right?”

At night, I like to lie on the tracks and look up at the stars.

As a kid, I heard the whistle, the soft ringing of the rails, the engines...

Lay back.

Listen.

The island isn't on any maps.

Well, okay. It appears on one map: mine.

It's off the trade routes. I only found it because of a freak storm that blew me ashore here.

It doesn't even have a name.

Want to name it?

No rush. We won't be here long, anyway.

Just long enough to bury the treasure and the prisoners.

That's right – bury them.

Remember when I gave orders to take no prisoners?

This is why.

Just be sure to give 'em each a sip of whiskey before... you know.

I may be a pirate, but I'm no animal.

Guy David chose this podcast as one of the 8 he'd take with him to a desert island.

Great. This podcast is stranded on a desert island now.

Does this mean I can take a break?

They say that countries used different gage tracks for their railroads so that enemy trains couldn't invade without changing wheels.

That took time, delaying them long enough for enough defensive forces to arrive.

I walk through the railroad museum, going from exhibit to exhibit wondering which trains are allies and which are enemies.

It's not easy to tell, but if you look closely, you can separate the two.

In fact, this World War II display has a friendly engine pulling three enemy boxcars.

Prisoners of war, perhaps?

They aren't talking. They're just trains in a museum, sitting on the tracks.

Jeremiah beats the triangle with a metal rod and calls us to dinner.

The table is piled high with all sorts of dishes he's prepared for us.

How he manages such feasts, we have no idea. He doesn't let us in his kitchen, and the only time we see the food is when it's already out on the table and he's ringing the dinner bell.

Every so often, someone gets curious, and they say they're going to find out.

Too curious, because the next time Jeremiah rings the bell and we all come to dinner, they aren't there.

Say Grace.

Podcast Pickle points out that PodShow has changed names.

I think Dave Jackson is right about the GoDaddy codes. I couldn't tell you which podcasts I listen to are PodShow or not, but I think I could rattle off a few GoDaddy codes of podcasters that are on PodShow.

It'll be interesting to see what else changes besides their domain name.

Or, as I tweeted:

So it'll be Mevio that files for bankruptcy and folds up instead of PodShow?

I guess we'll see.

The judge banged his gavel and called the court to order.

“Fred Axemurderer, you are charged with two counts of first degree murder. How do you plead?”

A blood-soaked figure in overalls and a hockey mask stood up.

“Well, let's see,” he said. “You have my axe over there. Next to it, videotapes of the murders. Beside that, my signed confession. What more do you want?”

All the while, Fred's attorney was shouting “HE PLEADS NOT GUILTY BY REASON OF INSANITY!”

You see, only a crazy man would give up the massive revenue potential of a sequel. Or two.

I'm pondering whether to post the full version of this story. It's really, really sick.

In the meantime, Will raised the battle-cry and I went ballistic on PodShow.

Yeah, I'm a crazy-assed motherfucker. If you're looking to buy my soul, my price is a trail of booze and pills to get me from the limo to the studio.

Dumped. Again.

“I'm a lesbian,” she said.

Dan looked back at his past few girlfriends and realized that each and every one of them was now a lesbian.

A few phone calls confirmed the truth: every one of them was a lesbian, all the way back to his first kiss.

“You've got the magic touch,” said his newest ex-girlfriend. She finished packing her stuff and walked out the door.

They'd met on a blind date set up by... the ex-girlfriend before her.

He checked his messages. Another blind date set up.

“And make it quick,” his ex said.

Yes, it's true. I actually appear on broadcast radio.

No. Really.

How many of you PodShow/Mevio A-Listers can say that?

(crickets)

Thought so. Probably too busy kissing Adam Curry's ass.

Hit up KPRC Radio or 950AM in the Houston Area from 11 to 2PM on Saturday to catch the magic.

Welcome to the Weekly Challenge Number One Hundred And Six, where I post a topic and then challenge you to come up with a 100 word story based on that topic.

The topic this week was selected by Caleb, who is going for broke with...

It's Cereal.

The excellent theme music is by Guy David

VOTING

Go ahead and listen to them and then vote for your favorites (multiple selections are allowed):

STEVEN

For a while after the attempt, everything was spectacular. It was as if a sensory grime was vomited with the sleeping pills and charcoal, and left behind in the ER's biohazard bag. He drank in the sky's shifting shades of blue, the smell of grass and gasoline on suburban weekends. He even savored the oaty richness of generic cereal scraping down his throat.

He was discharged, but doctors warned that relapse was often subtle.

"People feel fine but don't notice the symptoms returning."

He wouldn't forget. He promised he would be back to see them -- when
cereal was boring again.

DAVID

In last weeks episode, our heroes put an end to the murderous rein of Freetown's sheriff. By fabricating evidence that convinced the town of his child molesting, drug dealing, terrorist ways, they were able to incite a riot in which he was trampled to death by deputies fleeing the scene. What more can two runaways living in sin do to free our town from the violent thugs we call government? "Captain Crunch?" "Ate it! Shredded Wheat, Pullman car," Josh from above their abandoned caboose. Join us next week to discover the biting answer to Missy's immortal question???? "Got milk?"

GUY DAVID

Old Mama Chirapa was looking at little Chaketo. Since they landed, he got much thinner and the lights seems to have gone out of his young eyes. They where supposed to land, colonize this planet, only, it wasn't as deserted as they thought it was. There where creatures living here, called themselves “Humans” and where suspicious of strangers. The Chirapa had to go into hiding. Now, Mama Chirapa sometimes wondered if they would ever see the light of day.

“Eat your cereal, little Chaketo. You have a whole world to conquer, and you have to be strong enough”, she said.

TOM

The impact from the blow sent Quatermain tumbling over the steamer truck. Eight handguns trained on Cervantes head. Maria grabbed the lid of the Easy Bake. Order returned to the Hub.

"Ok my choice of words was ill composed." Said Quatermain spiting out blood. "Let me show you our prodigy." Allan led them to a clean and well-lit place, 40 children sitting about eating Captain Crunch.

"We call them

the League of Extraordinary Children.

Mave they are your students."

"No." protested Cervantes

"Sorry R it’s already written in the Book."

Maria smiled and stated

"Lesson One no sugar coat cereal."

ANIMA

No word from the cattle station in days; Although it's remote, there's usually radio chatter...

So I'm going to have me a look.

Jeez – will you look at this?

They've all gone and copped it. There's no whole pieces left anywhere. Just a jumble of body parts, hooves and bones. I can't tell cow from cowboy…

At the feed bunk, I sift my fingers through the remaining grains.

Bloody Cheap Owner, supplying tainted feed. Ergot's an ugly character.

First ruining the farmers' crop, then driving the cattle that eats it raving mad.

This cereal killer is truly a serial killer.

TERRY

Police Detective Johnson read this week's crime report:

On Tuesday, as a Kellogg's truck pulled up to the dock of a grocery store, it exploded into flames that shot one hundred feet into the air.
On Wednesday, it was a Fruity Pebbles truck that exploded across town at another grocery store.
On Thursday, a Cheerios truck was ambushed and totally destroyed.
On Friday, a not so lucky, Lucky Charms truck was the subject of a bombing.
At the scene of each crime a spoon emblem and "United" had been drawn.

Yup, they defiantly had another cereal killer on the loose.

PLANET X

Little Johnny always loved his Alpha-Bits, he sometimes would pick out letters from the cereal bowl and spell out words on the table, shocking his mother.

Today was different, the cereal started to form words by themselves, even before he picked them from the bowl.

At first they were simple words like "today", "you" and "will", but when "die" formed in the milk, Johnny started to get scared, scared enough not to notice the droplet of blood that came from the knife his mother had just shoved into his ear.

"Can you spell-out fuck you now Johnny" his mother said.

CRAIG

The incessant knocking at the bedroom door abruptly collapsed my dreaming.

Rubbing my eyes I looked up to see four girl scouts at the foot of my bed.

Before I could speak the tall one said “ it’s boxtop day, you promised to help.”

Pulling the covers over my head I mumbled “boxtop day indeed,” adding “give me 2 minutes.”

Downstairs there were at least twenty girl scouts all staring at me. An amused Ellen handed me coffee pointing to the door, I mouthed “what no cereal?”

I motioned the drivers to head out, the great boxtop collection was on.

SOUGENT

He gazed down at the spreading pool of blood.

"A good breakfast is what you need", he said, "not that powerbar"

She was asking for it, really, just like all the rest were.

The voices kept whispering in his head, telling him what to do.

He knows he should be sorry for killing them all, but the voices just keep whispering....

"Just follow my nose, it always knows"

"I'm koo koo for cocoa puffs"

Slipping a small box of Frosted Flakes under her hand, he mutters "They're Great!"

"In other news today, the famed "cereal killer" claims a new victim"

THOMAS

Damn food nazis, been out of work for three years with no end in sight. The libs say we can't sell to kids, but what about us, I mean, who's going to buy a vacuum from an elf or a tiger? Sure, the Cap'n got a book deal and a cameo in the next Pirates of the Caribbean flick, but for most we're just trying to survive. Bitter? Damn straight I'm bitter. Snap and Pop opened a gym, then said “threes a crowd, goodbye”. Bitches! Me? Well... maybe I could ask that annoying leprechaun to tend bar at his pub.

JD WHITE

John 316, fist bruised and aching, stood before the locked hatch.

The hot cereal of breakfast an hour before sat, a hard cold lump in his gut.

Tears that had formed now begin to seep from his eyes.

It had been a trick.

More than a trick, a trap.

His frailty and his fear of rejection used against him.

His brothers would, if they had not already, report his transgression.

They would be rid of him one way or another.

John 316 saw clearly that he had failed the Word.

Turning, his hands trembling, he grasp the ladders first rung.

TERRENCE

As the zombies continued to shuffle by Raoul and the witherhunch, Raoul thought about the event of the past few months. In its first draft the "good" book had described all the warning signs. However, it continued to amaze him on how badly the book had been edited over the years. He had not been the only victim of some priest's edits. Maybe, if they had been a little less selective they would have recognized the sign when the podcaster spread out into other things; but who would have thought that cereal.isfullofcrap.com would bring about the end of the world.

LAIEANNA

I'm a half ass low carberer. Eggs, meat, cheese, and vegetables are the staple of an Atkins diet and even that requires limits. Eggs now make me nauseous. Meat easily grosses me out. Cheese I like but there is only so much you can eat in a sitting. Oh, and vegetables get really boring to chew on. So, on this diet, I crave things that I didn't care about when I was fatter. Fruit is a treat and chips are salty goodness. And for a poptart, strudels kid, cereal sounds like heaven. Pour me a bowl of Raisin Nut Brand...please.

HOTSPUR

I grin as another spoon of Museli enters Aunt Doris' gaping maw. There you are. "I love you, Woodrow" she bleets, mouth brimming with EuroCereal. I grin at her. Carefully, now. Chew with mouth closed, Auntie. We don’t want an accident. She chews, blank eyes unfocused. Dribble of milk down one side of mouth. Hodgson enters with juice and a red rose on a tray. He is brisk, obsequious. He serves Auntie, slowly raises and glances at me with a look of mingled loathing and hatred. I grin back, pleasantly.

There you are, Auntie. Another Bite?

“I love you, Woodrow”.

MIKE

The man always marveled at the variety of cereals. Puffs, pops, flakes, little donuts and - his personal favorite - sugary ABCs. His mom always said, he had learned to spell just by pushing the little letters around in his bowl for hours on end.

The emergency horns' blaring finally stopped, but the strobes still flashed. Taking another look at the legs sticking out of the hopper, he popped a glazed uppercase “Q“ into his mouth. Sure, it could be dangerous working here, just like working in any other kind of factory, he supposed. He couldn’t imagine working anyplace as tasty, though.

CALEB

In the mid seventies General Mills tried replacing Lucky the Leprechaun with Waldo the Wizard. Lucky had been making unreasonable demands in his contract negotiations. How they expected a cereal company to enslave Donna Summer in the first place, was never explained. He got into Frankenberry and before long he and Toucan Sam got banned from all the Hollywood clubs. Tony the Tiger said, “You’re Wasted! You Better get to Rehab!” After rooming with Sonny who was coo coo for crystal meth too he eventually came out clean and sober only to be replaced again, this time by a cartoon.

PLANET Z

I'm sure there's people out there who envy the fact that I get breakfast in bed every morning.

Best thing to wake up to, right?

Not around here.

You see, instead of bringing me coffee and bacon and waffles and pancakes and maple syrup, she throws a box of cereal in my face and yells at me to wake the fuck up.

God, I wish it was like the old days.

Sure, there wasn't any coffee. Or bacon. Or waffles. Or pancakes.

But, man, was there maple syrup. And where it was, I'll leave that to your imagination.

Bon appetit.