100 Words - Slang Code

 

As a child Smiley was not allowed to wear Fruit Of The Loom underwear. His mother called them sacrilegious. When he later came across the phrase fruit of the womb he understood why, but thought that a bad pun was hardly worth God’s wrath.

He the started researching all his mother’s old sayings and found that almost all of them were wrong. He assumed it was through ignorance, but an appendix in an old slang encyclopedia described methods of variation. When decoded, his mother’s phrases painted a picture of a horrific childhood. Mostly pointing to her father as the culprit.

Tea Party Gone Wrong

Alice in Weirderland. Tea parties must be taken seriously.

100 Words - Not Dead

 

She hesitated, took off her glasses, and stared a hole through the poor cop who was just trying to do his job, telling her that her husband was in the hospital. What the cop missed was the shock in her eyes that he wasn’t dead. He was supposed to be dead.

It was all arranged. The guy, who knew a guy, who knew another guy, promised there was no chance of failure. It would look like an accident to everyone but her husband. She wanted him to know she had him killed. When the cop left she packed her suitcase.

100 Words - Green Army Men

 

Billy tried to extol the virtues of his intellect to his collection of green army men. They were obedient but not enthused about his strategy for assaulting the new litter of puppies that were getting all his parents’ attention.

Billy explained to his men that they may be small, but they outnumbered the puppies ten to one. He silenced the few skeptics with threats of diaper duty. The plan was to wait till mama dog, Bootsy was her name, was out for her walk.

As the front door shut Billy threw the men into the cardboard box. The puppies won.

100 Words - Empty Sunshine

 

I’m tired of winter’s empty sunshine. I stand outside at noon and feel no warmth. The snow does not melt. Like God turned down the thermostat just a bit too far. Depression, rising along the cold’s icy back, seeps through the layers of clothes. It may win soon.

Then one day it’s not so cold. A distant hope, or a temporary delusion? One less layer of clothing. Is this freedom or am I shedding security. Is there safety in my winter coat? Is the weather trying to kill me? Is the wind my mortal enemy? Do I need some sleep?

100 Words - Chevy Impala

 

Dad’s 68 Impala ate fan belts on a regular basis. There was always a pile of spares in the back. Then the water pump died. He fixed it and the car never trashed another belt.

Us kids, the seven of us, used to argue about who got to sit in the way back seat facing backwards till the floor rusted away. Then we had to lay on towels arranged like uncomfortable Tetris blocks.

That car took us from Cape Cod to Montreal.

The car is gone. Dad is gone. Seven of the unused fan belts sit rotting in my basement.