“Did you know,” droned the lecturer, “that until a few short centuries ago, the human body was made of sixty percent water rather than sixty percent weaponry?”
“Weird,” commented a student, holding up one shotgun arm and flexing his finger-pistols. “Makes you wonder how they survived long enough to evolve.”
Thousands of ducks overwhelmed the streets of North Crundria. The city was in an uproar.
“Ducks!?” cried the frightened, confused masses. “But… Aren’t they extinct?!”
A zoologist stood on his porch. “I warned you all,” he said. “The balance has shifted. And I, for one, welcome our new Duck Overlords.”
This story was inspired by suggestions from @gameking128 (“duck”), @Graham_LRR (“North Crundria”), and @HootieD (“to shift”) via Twitter.
“How was your economics class?”
“I gave a cute guy my phone number.”
“…Oh. Did you learn anything?”
“I learned where he’ll be tonight around sevenish.”
“Did you learn anything economic?”
“I learned that I can make him pay for my coffee.”
I sigh. “You’re a hero, Margaret. A real world-killer.”
“Caw,” said the crow, turning its blind eye towards her. She always fell for it. What would today’s treat be? The big knife meant cooking day. That meant meat scraps or fish-guts or chicken skin. It hopped greedily to her outstretched hand.
She stroked it. It was finally fat enough.
Today’s story was originally submitted by Lenny as an entry in the Mere 50 Words contest.
Life as a superhero has become difficult with the preponderance of cell-phones. Phone booths are getting so rare as to be nonexistent. One is forced to change into tights in a Port-o-Potty when one can find one. Unfortunately, clothes left in a portable toilet usually aren’t there when you return.
This story, by L. Christopher Bird, was originally submitted for the Mere 50 Words contest.
The kids crawled all over the playground.
“Who’s It?”
“Jimmy is!”
“The ground’s lava! If you touch it, you’re It!”
Tamara thought being It might be fun. So she went to one of the ladders, took a deep breath, and hopped down…
Lava burns. A lot. But she died painlessly.
He had the biggest, bushiest, amazingest beard.
People would approach him in restaurants or on the street and ask to take his picture. He was half celebrity, half tourist attraction.
The mayor accused him of using a fake beard, but testing determined that it was real.
The mayor was impeached.
They ran and they ran and they ran.
They ran and they ran and they ran and they ran and they ran and they ran and they ran.
They ran.
They ran and ran.
And then they ran some more.
They ran really, really, really far.
And then they stopped.
Sigmund dove for cover, gunshots ringing in his ears.
“Hello,” said Carl’s ghost.
“Girly scream!” said Sigmund.
“You just killed me,” said Carl’s ghost.
“…Sorry?” squeaked Sigmund.
Carl’s ghost shrugged.
“Blam!” said Carl’s partner’s gun as it shot Sigmund.
“Girly scream!” said Carl’s partner.
“I’m really hungry,” said Carl’s ghost.
She sat on the couch and wished she was in Italy eating sushi with chopsticks. Or in Guam eating steak with a spork. She’d even settle for pizza in the Bahamas, or a spoon and some carrots…
But she was older now, and darn it, she was on a diet!
This story was written with input from @zaro27, @Caelum_Sky, @clayben, and @captainmakr on Twitter, who provided me with some interesting foods, countries, and eating utensils.