100 Word Daily: Crash Edition

Hey friends and others,

This one... it... well, it just did what these things do sometimes. I dunno. Here ya go.


I’m lying on my back in the sun, the asphalt warm and rough under my back like the skin of a lizard. I try to shield my eyes with my arm, but there’s nothing there. My shoulder grinds, oozes, but nothing. Shouting pulls me away from thoughts of my arm. People are running everywhere, on cellphones. Past them, my car, lying in the street, just like me. I know what happened now. And soon, they’ll find out. My family will go to my apartment, clean it out. And they’ll find it. My secret shame. My sick addiction. My Little Ponies.



I'm really not sure what to tell you. You're welcome? Sorry? In any case, it made me laugh, so that's really all that matters, right?

Well, bye.

-V-

100 Word Daily: Cookie Edition

Ok, so I don't know how to count. Sue me, why don't ya?!

In other, better news, here's a new story! It's about an unstoppable cookie flood. From where do they come? Elves in the pipes. Elves in the chimney. Elves! All the time elves. I never did trust them, but all they do is make freakin' cookies all the time. What's not to trust, you ask? How do they not get huge? That's why I don't trust them. They're not being forthright about their eating habits. You never see them eating the cookies, do you? Do you?! They just force them on us, endlessly, forever. I'm sure there's some Elven conspiracy in there somewhere, but I'm too full to concern myself with it right now.

This idea is from Rachel, a school friend who apparently values cookies over knowledge. I don't blame her. Follow her multiple times on Twitter, @rachpenner and @energyofdance. One of them is about dancing. The other is about like, stuff, and junk. Both are wonderful, and so is she. Enjoy the story, yo.



I should be reading. I should be writing. I should be studying, learning, educating myself. I should be doing any damn thing but eating. But these cookies. These cookies are everywhere, and they just keep coming, flowing in the windows and through the door and down the chimney and out of the drain in the bathtub. To stave off death I must first stave off hunger. But I’m not hungry. Not anymore. But these cookies! So I eat. I eat. The body only has so much room. My home only has so many rooms. All are full of these cookies.



Are you happy that I made cookies scary? I sure am. I am now scared, and happy. Life can be confusing. Okay, I'll write another story tomorrow, and you'll like it just as much, I'm sure.

Bye.

-V-

100 Word Daily: Shift Edition

Hello all,

So, I failed horribly, and missed yesterdays story. I'll make it up to you today, with two. One now, and one a little later, after I've had some breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a nap. Sound fair?

This story comes from my gracious father-in-law, who always has some interesting things floating in his brain. The theme of this piece is "THE SHIFT KEY THAT GOT STUCK"

Also, I'm going to start including the original idea, since sometimes people don't get it. That is my fault, as a writer, and I admit it. So cut me some slack, wouldja?

Ok, here be. Enjoy.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN:

IT IS WITH GREAT REGRET THAT WE INFORM YOU OF THE PASSING OF YOUR FATHER> HE WAS CAUGHT UNFORTUNATELY IN A COMBINATION PHOTOCOPIER?PRINTER?SCANNER INCIDENT< AND WHILE WE WERE ABLE TO REMOVE HIM FROM THE MACHINE< HE HAD ALREADY LOST A GREAT DEAL OF BLOOD< AND NEEDLESS TO SAY< OUR REPORTS FOR THE NEXT FEW WEEKS WILL CARRY A GRISLY TONE>

WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE CAPITALIZATION AND STRANGE PUNCTUATION> YOUR FATHER WAS OUR RESIDENT TECH SUPPORT MANAGER> AFTER HIS PASSING< THE SHIFT KEY ON OUR COMPUTER STUCK< AND NO_ONE IS QUALIFIED TO FIX IT>

I presume these folk work at an older company, or can't afford a new keyboard, or some such thing. Maybe they're senior citizens, and don't know the difference between caps lock and shift. Many factors contribute to this terrible unfeeling letter.

Ok, keep your eyes peeled later today for another one of these things.

-V-

100 Word Daily: Mattress Edition

Hi,

So, it's been one whole day. I've never been great with schedules, so we'll see if I can maintain this pace. Especially since I might have to pump a story out tomorrow morning to keep on track. This should be interesting.

This story comes courtesy of the always fascinating mind of good friend Adrian. I would give you all a link to his twitter, or his blog, or some other online presence, but it's minimal. He's on facebook, I can tell you that much, but good luck getting in touch with that crazy character. In any case, this one just smacks of his sense of humour, and I'll try to do it justice. Last time he gave me a story idea, it became one of my favourite stories, so hopefully this one does the same. Or better, even.

The days are uncountable. I lay perfectly still, eyes clamped shut. I toss, then turn, then repeat. Sandwich break and a piss, and it’s back on the damn mattress. I don’t sleep. I can’t. I never do. So the tossing and turning is convincing. And when I go home, it’s the same thing. The boss says I can’t just lay there. This has to look honest. What do I think he’s paying me for? Obviously a ridiculous question. I’m paid to suffer. I suffer daily, and for the comfort of others. And for what? A comfy retirement. A death bed.

HEYO! Storytime over children. Off to bed. I bet this one makes you want to just curl up on your superbly comfortable mattress and go to sleep. This man clearly has a miserable existence. Too much of a good thing, and all that. But I'm ready for bed myself, so please, take a minute and enjoy. Wait, you already did. Well, whatever. Goodnight.

-V-

100 Word Daily - Caffeine Edition

Hey all you beautiful people.

SO, I'm on break from school for a little while, and I figured I would spend some of my extra time working on more of these 100 word stories. I made a little post on facebook and on twitter, and I got a whole big pile of them. And so,  I've decided that I'll write one of them a day until I go back to school, starting from the top of the list on facebook. Since there were less on twitter, I'll just pop them in here and there. Not that any of it matters to you, since you probably won't even notice it happening.

In any case, now that you know what my plan of attack is, please enjoy the first of many many tiny stupid stories. The first comes courtesy of my friend Leslie, who goes to school with me. She's a rad chick with a crude 'tude. Or some such nonsense. She's involved in public relations, and making your crappy little company seem way better than it is. Follow her on twitter at @ABPRgirl, or in your car after 3, most days.

Here comes the gold.

She strains against gravity, and the weight of the sheets. Her eyelids peel apart like fabric tearing, and hang half-open, refusing the light. Colour enters her eyes, but she can’t tell one object from the next. Thoughts bubble from the bottom of her brain, but pop before they cohere. Blood sits in her veins, idle, cold. She pours herself onto the floor, and pieces together the easiest path to the kitchen. Her body is lacking vital components, chemical fixtures that imbue the human body with a new magic. Protein builds our bodies. Calcium provides our shape. But caffeine maintains life.

You see? It's possibly the most important substance you can absorb, beyond the blood of your enemies.

Alright, I'll be back tomorrow, with another whatever.

-V-