Zombies, ghouls, mummies, and other frightful creatures were still crossing over.

The world was awash in these troublesome and smelly interlopers.

So, scientists came up with an answer, and they managed to close the barrier once again.

Completely.

With Death vanquished once and for all, you’d think people would be happy.

Instead, we’re getting older, sicker, and unable to eat anything.

Maybe when Halloween comes again, the barriers will weaken, and we can finally taste the sweet mercy of death.

Barriers

Well, then I’ve got a “third thumb.”

You see, I’m a movie critic. The Celluloid Spy.

And I’m afraid of the dark.

Yeah, I hire mailroom interns to stand in for me at movie screenings.

My trademark trenchcoat, fedora, and fake beard make sense now, right?

So, when you wonder if the critic saw the same movie you did, you’re right: I didn’t.

But here’s the thing. I’ve been perfectly accurate in my plot synopses and ratings.

Stupid kid, getting hit by that truck.

Never saw that coming.

The Third Thumb

There were so many other books about chicken soup for various souls.

Shelves and shelves of books.

I don’t have time to read them all.

I was intimidated by all the different books, so I left the bookstore and went to the grocery store.

I reached for Campbell’s Chicken Soup, but then I saw Chicken And Stars, Chicken And Rice, Chunky Chicken And Noodle, a store generic…

Shelves and shelves of soup.

Wait… hold on…

Oh, I forgot: I’m allergic to chicken soup.

For The Soul

The Second Life 9th Birthday team has posted up its form for Exhibitors, and I'd like to do one for those of y'all who have written stories for the Weekly Challenges.

I'm thinking of putting together a standalone contraption based on my Reading Room that feeds into a projector that displays various stories y'all have written.

If you've got a favorite story that's G-rated, please let me know if I can use it in the exhibit.

Thanks,
-ls/cm

This is Weekly Challenge Number Three Hundred and Fourteen, 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 Strike Team Alpha.

And we've got stories by a lot of people:

Guy David
Zackmann
Thomas
Chris The Nuclear Kid
Serendipity Haven
Tura
Tom
Steven The Nuclear Man
Chris Munroe
Logan Berry
Lizzie Gudkov
Cliff
Sachy and Abernathy
RedGoddess
Danny
Norval Joe
Planet Z

And if you want to spam your social networks with this episode, use the Share buttons at the end of the post...

Obligatory cat photo:

(That's Gray Stripey. He visits us a lot. Bruwyn and Myst get along with him and let him enjoy the catnip piles.)

The more people see this on Google Plus, Facebook, and Twitter - the more explaining you'll have to do with your loved ones, coworkers, and parole officers.

GUY

The first Bread-and-Butterfly was documented by the good reverent Charles Lutwidge Dodgson in his celebrated book about the origin of the species, titled "Through the Looking Glass". When his conclusions came out, whole teams of other researchers came out on strike claiming the human race didn't evolve from some Bread-and-Butterfly alpha. I guess most of them didn't even read his book. They just confused his with that other Charles, the one who wrote the book about the origin of chess. Or, was it the other way around? Guess I should ask the red queen about it.

ZACKMANN

The teen boy excitedly squeed “Are you Munsis Minions of Team Alpha? It is so exciting to meet you.”
The public relations officer replied “Sorry to get your hopes up kid but Team Alpha and Team Beta are stuck in Alberta. The zombie task force has had some setbacks but don't worry team Sigma is here and we shall prevail. It’s your lucky day kid. We got a truckload of something from Louisville. The good news is today is Team Sigma Bat Day. The bad news is you're likely to need it but when we succeed only to play baseball.”

THOMAS

Strike Team Alpha released the earworm virus in midtown Manhattan a few weeks before Christmas when the whole area was already inundated with Xmas music and sales jingles spilling into the street from storefronts. The team’s purpose was to drive the Xmas shoppers mad and to cause them to riot, destroy local landmarks, break windows, throw bricks at the police, and bang tourists on the heads with homemade picket signs. The Strike Team Commander, Wallace Gloatbridge, was a disgruntled ex, government worker, and fiction author from Massachusetts. The virus spread rapidly, and the team fled to their squat in Brooklyn.

##

Strike Team Alpha was a tight-knit group of fiction writers from South Texas. They wrote fiction on spec and contract, selling to magazines and small shopping guides. The team commander, Mary Alfalpha, and her lieutenant, Sarah Dipity made sure all grammar and spelling was correct, and any team member stooping to profanity would have to surrender their membership and privileges. The team met their demise during an particularly brutal attack by a gang of black booted grammar Nazis from the Carolinas that stormed their headquarters wielding dictionaries and thick thesauri. The team fell to overlooked braces, semi-colons, tildes, and em-spaces.

CHRIS THE NUCLEAR KID

It was not that long ago when I made a promise I was unable to keep. I promised to protect the one I loved. But when she needed help most I was not strong enough to save her. I then swore to train myself and become stronger. I joined the military training force for a few years.
A day ago I received an application to the Strike Team Alpha. Now it's my first day I am slightly worried due to the stories I've heard of the place. But its probably worth it. Well I'd better get going before I'm late.

SERENDIPITY

Strike Team Alpha were supposed to be the cream of the crop, but their legendary failure is a textbook example of what happens when you have the wrong tools to get the job done.

Skills honed to perfection, they moved in under cover of darkness - their orders: 'Light blue touchpaper and retire to a safe distance'.

It should have been simple.

Instead, it was a complete disaster - forty failed attempts later they withdrew; the mission, a disaster.

At the court martial the truth came out: "They sent us out with safety matches... How the hell were we to strike them?"

TURA

Spy-in-the-sky sees Team Alpha coming two miles out. Textbook-perfect manoeuvres but they're running through it like a replay.

Bam. Landmine. They weren't expecting that, no landmines there in the videogame. Come on, show some initiative, Alpha! No, they duck for the trees.

I settle behind my sniper scope. First one emerges, right on time. Second. Then mine. Bam. First two panic and run into the rest of Team Delta. I guess we can strike Team Alpha.

There's one left, hiding in the trees, but we'll capture him for interrogation, ho ho. The ones with just paintball splashes get it easy.

TOM

The 5th of June 1943 Strike Team Alpha crosses the Potomac under the cover of night. Lt. Bronski hands each member of the team the battered dispatch from HQ. In large black letters it reads as follows: The president of the United States is named Shiklegrubber. Execute Plan Omega. “Smoke Em if you got em,” whispered Sergeant Rock. Little Joe lights up a Luck Strike, which given the circumstances seemed a bit ironic. “We’re not come back are we Sarg?” “We got to get the Spaniard inside the White House and his infernal contraption. That’s the mission private.” Arnesto paces.

STEVEN THE NUCLEAR MAN

The team deployed from their chopper. Strike Team Alpha looked like any other crack military unit.... except for two things. Their unit patches simply had a Greek letter alpha, and they were completely unarmed.

They went from home to home, offering free hugs, and were met with bullets, knives, and shrapnel.

As the final member of Alpha breathed his last, the Old Man turned off the monitor and gestured to his XO. “Send in Strike Team Omega,” he said.

The XO nodded. He reached into the lead locker and started handing suitcase nukes to the members of the final team.

Munsi!

What’s your favorite book?

No, don’t tell me. I wouldn’t be able to hear you, podcasts are a one-way form of communication.

Instead, open word on your computer, write the title of the book, the name of it’s author, and how and why it changed your life.

Write a love letter to the book.

When you’re done, print the page, fold it and put it in an envelope.

Now: Head to your local library or bookstore, find a copy of the book, tuck the envelope inside and return it to the shelf.

Congratulations, you’ve just connected meaningfully with a stranger.

Logan Berry

Capitalism sucks.

Not on paper. It looks like a good system on paper. May the brightest minds prosper. In the real world, capitalism has become a conglomerate of faceless corporations who strive to deprive us of the basics of health and happiness so they can charge us money for manufactured, second hand, sub-standard and unnatural versions of the things we need to function with dignity.

So when my partner has a heart attack, as he did this week, I have as much faith in the system as I would a shark in a swimming pool. Hospitals underfunded and drug companies overfunded mean that someone profits obscenely, and someone suffers.

I need Strike Team Alpha to overthrow this most unethical and soul-destroying system; or, if possible, to sit by my partner’s bed, and hold his hand.

LIZZIE

After years of attacks, the authorities called in the big guns. They were tough, they were dangerous. They were the reason children played in the streets now and women walked home from work late at night. Thieves, drug dealers, murderers and serial killers didn’t stand a chance. Tenacious and all geared up, they would roam the streets hunting predators down. Their motto was KISS. KISS them and KISS them again. They were Kimberly, Ivy, Suzy and Samantha, the Strike Team Alpha of the neighborhood. “Can I have an ice-cream, Granny?” asked 5 year old Peter. “No,” replied KISS in unison.

######

“Not good,” Strike said peaking through the window.

Team nodded.

“What are you talking about?!” Alpha was angry.

“You go first, Strike.”

“First?!”

“Yes, explain what we mean,” replied Team.

“Ah!” said Strike with a sigh of relief.

“This is a covert operation. What’s the problem?” asked Alpha annoyed.

Strike and Team looked anxious.

“Let’s go,” commanded Alpha.

Suddenly there was a loud noise, a shot.

“Uh-oh…” said Strike.

Team nodded.

“See, I told him. His wife wouldn’t like the surprise. This Strike Team Alpha anniversary gift was a bad idea. Too kinky…”

Strike nodded.

“Coffee?”

“And cream,” replied Team.

Cliff

“You are part of this Strike Team Alpha.”
He wasn’t very imposing. His three goons were, however.
“Strike Team what?”
“Don’t play stupid.”
“Who’s playing?”
Actually, I was. As the new guy, I’d gotten to play bait. I’d sat in this café for three days waiting for the Literature Purity League to notice me. They were self appointed censors. They censored writers, not words. People had disappeared. In response, Strike Team Alpha was born.
From where I sat, I could see Munsi and Treed blocking the exit. These fools were about to see what writers could really do.

SACHY AND ABERNATHY

and now a word from our sponsors...

This is Captain Arctic here to tell you about my new ice cream; Strike Team Alpha. If you have ever wanted to be a superhero like me, you need Strike Team Alpha. This is a supernatural cold blast chalk full of American Pride with red, white and blue candy tidbits that will make your taste buds soar to new heights.

Side effects may include; Jumping over buildings in a single bound, shooting webs out of your wrists, laser and/or x-ray vision, invisibility, turning green, super human strength and explosive diarrhea.

RED GODDESS

There is a undying war being waged on low wage workers and the working poor. During new employee's orientation, there is high optimism and promise to solve problems together. Human resources department really exists to protect the rights of companies not to ensure the employees are treated fairly. Then, who can employees turn to for grievances and better treatment in the workplace? There is only one group that can come to the rescue, "Strike Team Alpha." Since this team is action oriented and militaristic, they will go in there, unlike mediators, and solve all the problems with one permanent move.

DANNY

"Target has been spotted!" the Captain screamed into his headset, command control responded, "Mission is a go!" "OK, Go, Go, Go!," the captain screamed, as Strike Team Alpha jumped from the B21 bomber, plummeting to their target below. Parachutes deployed at 500 feet, the strike team quietly descended on their target, the buildng below. The door was kicked in, weapons fully drawn, the team was confronted by, an unarmed 4 year old child surrounded by 10 other toddlers. The 4 year old quickly responded, "Thhhpppppp!!!!" "Uh, command control, you just had us raid the Tiny Tots Pre-School." The laughter from command control was deafening.

NORVAL JOE

The targets stood like ancient warriors, tall and silent, awaiting the attack. Fearless and stoic they stared back at the champion chosen to lead the assault.
Unassuming, almost pitiful in his weakness, like David of old facing Goliath, the first in the band of competitors stared across the field of battle. He took the projectile in his hand, stepped forward and hurled it toward the phalanx. With a crash they flew about knocking one another down.
"Strike, Team Alpha," the announced called.
The first player of Team Bravo dried his hand, retrieved his bowling ball and stepped onto the lane.

The dwarf sat on his stool and stared at the ground.
"How long must we wait for an answer?" Owen asked.
The ranger replied, "dwarves live much longer than humans and therefore take much longer to make decisions."
"Yes, but," Owen said, "he's sat all morning without movement or word. We only have so much time to get the princess. Do we really need him?"
"Ours will be the first group to enter the caverns since the goblins overran them," Shareeka said. "Though he was a child when he escaped, his memory of the caves will be invaluable to us."

PLANET Z

My company designs shoulder sleeve insignia for military uniforms.

Those are the patches you see on a soldier’s arm that says what service unit they’re a part of.

The strangest request came from the Army for their elite Strike Team Alpha unit.

Not only did this clandestine group not wear uniforms, but they were not supposed to ever identify themselves.

Due to regulations and bureaucracy, though, they had to have a patch.

So, they had a solid black patch made.

Their first mission was to kill the idiot in the Pentagon who ordered them to wear the patches.

Mission accomplished.

Weekly Challenge #316 - Strike Team Alpha

The 100 word stories weekly challenge is where I post a topic to http://podcasting.isfullofcrap.com and then you write and record a story based on that topic.

The topic of the next Weekly Challenge is bar!

Want to give it a shot? Send an email to isfullofcrap (at) gmail.com with the subject of WEEKLY CHALLENGE and the following:

The text of your 100 word story on the topic.
Your site's URL, if you have a site and aren't ashamed to share it.
A topic for the next Weekly Challenge
And, if you can, a recording of your story (and any shameless plugs) in MP3 format

Need an example of a shameless plug? Well, you can listen to this podcast on Stitcher Radio by searching for "100 word stories" or going to the podcast's website and clicking on the Stitcher Radio icon.

See? That was easy.

Oh, and everything's due by Sunday morning when I put the episode together.

If you hate the sound of your voice or cant't record your story for some reason or another, go ahead and send the text of the story in anyway. I'll have someone record it for you.

Good luck, and as always, keep it brief.

The topic of the next weekly challenge is bar

He exercised every day. Rain or shine, heat or blizzard.

One day, while walking to the workout shed, he felt a strange feeling behind his right ear.

Everything went black, and Max dropped to the ground, dead from a stroke.

Max had kept to himself, so it was the overflowing mailbox that was the first sign something was wrong.

The mailman went into the back yard and saw the body covered with flies and other things.

Temple? No.

More like a buffet.

Temple

He never puts the pieces in his mouth or tosses them into the air.

Instead, he picks out sides and corners and snaps the puzzle together quickly.

When he’s done, he moves on to the next puzzle.

No Legos.

No Tinkertoys, blocks or Lincoln Logs.

He smiles and waits for a puzzle.

I gave him an all-white puzzle, and he solved it just as quickly.

Monica left the fridge open this morning.

Owen crawled in, and started to assemble the food within.

That’s when we heard the moaning.

And screaming.

Puzzle

A deep voice hissed “Who’s that?”

I got back up and rubbed my eyes, not quite sure I was seeing what I was seeing.

It was God, standing at a workbench, piled high with burnt and bloody animal parts.

Behind him, stacks of scorched trees and polluted rivers and other things.

“I went back in time to witness Creation?” I gasped.

“No, you went forward,” God growled. “After the nuclear war. I’m just trying to scrape something together.”

He pointed a lightning bolt at me. “Without humans.”

Creation

The winner was to get a free meal upon return from the pilgrimage.

Today, only a portion of the manuscripts are known to the public, as many tales are missing, and we are left without knowing who won the contest.

Until today.

Reading the ancient papers on a lighted workbench, I learn of a man dressed in a black cloak and hood, silent as the night, dining alone.

Yes, it’s true.

The Ninja won the contest.

The Tale Winner