November / December 100 Word Anonymous Challenge

elvet

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Macaroni

When the Great Macaroni Famine of 2034 hit us it hit us pretty hard. I was sitting with my mom and we were watching the effulgent barrage of fireworks lighting up the sky. Some of them even looked like farfalle, and we only had the last of our fusilli a week before. Everybody is starving, it’s not just us, but such things can feel so subjective when it’s our very own suffering. When it comes down to it, I guess we could still eat them crunchy, but the world has gone dry. There’s no water.

-End Transmission-
 

elvet

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Crab Walk

Gerald went to the beach and it was very hot. He was perspiring in all of the wrong places, particularly he was sweating inside of his gallbladder. Despite the heat, he rather fancied the brisk walk along the shore picking up deviled crabs and munching on them with a dab of horse radish (which he carries at all times). Deep in the richness of his palette he then had a profound thought. Then it was gone. Bikini-clad martian chicks were playing croquet, and all things considered, not an especially sweaty sport.
 

elvet

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“Hey”

In these walls I have been imprisoned, and the only world outside I can find is a thousand pixels wide. Sometimes the words pass me right on by and I can’t handle it anymore, but where I am there’s no escape from the mundane.

I start to worry about it, the bleakness of wandering through a miasma of light, when it hurts my eyes, a page by the dimmer glow of night-light. Within a chamber, shut deeper in my cell, I tell them only “Hey” and “Hey” and “Hey” again. They won’t hear, and I return to my hibernation
 

elvet

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Flukey Gorman and the All Night Party

News presenter Beatrice NiChofaigh gritted her teeth before speaking to the camera.

'Uh, erm, in the interest of fairness we are required to give airtime to all parties in this election.'

She rolled her eyes, and motioned for her guest to speak.

'A vote for the All Night Party is a vote for the environment.
We believe everyone should have their own state.
With their own rules.
And their own air.
And rocks.
And shrubs.
And a jug of water.
Focus on the little picture.
The big one is too messed up to fix.'

'Thank you for that', muttered Beatrice.
 

elvet

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Prime Minister Scutlebal Lint

Newly appointed Prime Minister Lint marched slowly around the room. She wanted to stare into the eyes of the assembled staff. Her deputy shuffled carefully behind.

'The first thing my government is going to do is fix is the problem of aging', she boomed.

She gestured to herself.

'Look how old my body's got -it's a disgrace.'

Her deputy nodded in agreement.
Scutlebal Lint pointed out of a window.

'There's people ageing out there today that never aged before', she harrumphed.

Her deputy gave a cough.

'Um, it's worse than that ma'am, there's people dying today that've never died before.'
 

elvet

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51st State

Before the war I worked on state and federal websites, updating their application forms — those multi page monsters your web Avatar would use to submit your taxes, your non-electric car permit, your pet anaconda license or whatever.

And this job was no different.

They wanted a new state added to the picklist used by all their applications.

It was last moment and $1000 for twenty minutes effort and, truthfully, I didn't really register what I was doing.

I figure the war started about two minutes after the change.

I've never studied a map of Mars.

Where is Tharsis, anyway?
 

elvet

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A Neckbeard’s Struggle

My beard is as far across as the solar system. If one were to braid it, it would take just as long to count to infinity. If one could count to infinity, they could braid my beard.

All things considered, infinity is a linguistic conundrum. There are probably infinite things that do not reach infinity. My beard is the same way. It is infinite, it is eternal. But it is smaller than infinity.

Some may think that’s a rather cool thing. But the truth is, it’s hard to wash. And it smells. Makes me the Pariah. God is a pariah.
 

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