Posts Tagged ‘School’
Dec
Warm Memory
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
A friend says he thinks of Andy Warhol and his pop art when he sees Campbell’s soup cans. But when I see Campbell’s soup cans, I think of my mother.
When younger, I would come home from school on frigid days to the smell of Campbell’s tomato soup, anxious to sit and have the warmth sooth my chilled body.
Now an old man, I still sip Campbell’s soup and remember my mother’s radiance lighting up the room and her deep blue eyes sparkling under the overhead light in our old kitchen. She’s been gone years, but I feel her presence.
From Guest Contributor Lisa Scuderi-Burkimsher
Aug
Helicopter Parenting
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
HUBRIS CONTEST:
Malcolm was the victim of helicopter parenting. Literally. He didn’t drive to school, he flew. His mother and father, both victims of neglect and recrimination growing up, had overachieved as adults so that they could protect their own child from such abuses. This meant sheltering Malcolm from all criticisms, never allowing him to fail or even fall short in anything he did.
When he inherited the family business, he was both horribly unqualified to run a company and incapable of conceiving of the possibility of failure. Thanks however to his tremendous hubris, the company continued to thrive under his direction.
From Guest Contributor Mindy Storr
Jul
Plastic Jesus In An Upright Tub
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Me and Dale chuck rocks at it. Before school, while we wait for the bus on Highway 62 and after school or on Sundays. It’s not all we do. We sit and talk about which girl at school we’d most like to bang. I’m more of an ass man. Dale really likes big boobs and has lots of ideas about what to do with them. Dale has a .22 rifle he shoots stuff with. I tried to get him to shoot Plastic Jesus but he said the bullet might ricochet and kill us. That would be a miracle, I said.
From Guest Contributor John Riley
John is the founder and publisher of Morgan Reynolds, an educational publishing company. He has written over forty books of nonfiction for secondary level students. His fiction and poetry have been published in Smokelong Quarterly, Connotation Press, St. Anne’s Review, The Dead Mule, and other many other journals both online and in print.
Feb
Life Misspelled
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Intelligent machines probe not only my words, but also the silent spaces between words, searching for hidden doors to secret rooms. As a kid, I won a goldfish at the county fair by tossing a ping-pong ball into the fish’s bowl. My mom flushed Goldie down the toilet while I was at school. I think of it sometimes when I see Nazis invading Poland on the History Channel. “Last name?” the woman behind the counter asks, eyes on the computer screen, hands poised on the keyboard. “Good,” I say. “How do you spell that?” “Like God, but with two o’s.”
From Guest Contributor Howie Good
Howie is the author most recently of Stick Figure Opera: 99 100-word Prose Poems from Cajun Mutt Press. He co-edits the online journals Unbroken and UnLost.
Feb
Freedom Of Expression
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Their art combined gibberish with colour. Exterior walls and street recycling receptacles became graphic spectacles.
“Let’s see you join us,” they demanded.
“It’s wrong to deface public property,” I replied.
When a recycling truck rolled in, frustration of the driver as to not being able to do his pickup job landed them at the school office. The self-appointed artists got suspended from class and were ordered to remove their creations.
“Did you take part in that graffiti?” Dad asked.
“No, I only watched,” I answered, careful to not disclose that they asked me for my artistic advice and I obliged.
From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs
Krystyna is a writer of poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. She
resides in Edmonton, Canada with her husband and stuffed animals and
many friends.
Dec
Love Triumphal
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Mother hides me in the closet.
You won’t go back to that school. I’ll deal with that asshole father.
She smells of lavender perfume and sweat. Not like Dad with his Old Spice, calculated aroma, who mocks Mother. Arranges my future with Headmaster Edgar. Harvard, law.
Men bang at the doors. Buzzwords waft into my musky space: “Custody arrangement,” “Legal orders.”
Fuck off. Mother’s words hold firmness, edge.
Footsteps draw near, unpleasant pounding.
My mother tells them I’m her son. I’m someone who needs love.
I absorb that word, so foreign, while she spars, words rising.
Love. What beautiful form.
From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri.
Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His work is forthcoming or has been published in journals such as 50 Word Stories, Silent Auctions, City. River. Tree. and Ariel Chart.
Nov
This Boy’s Life
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Sammy’s live-in, Tanya, abhors Sammy’s pet tarantula, Quentin. Tanya’s friend, Gwen—Sammy’s illicit lover—sees murder in Tanya’s eyes. Quentin disappears. Sammy suspects Tanya. Time smolders. Back into the picture Quentin dramatically creeps. Tanya proves Gwen prescient, then moves out. Gwen moves in, eventually giving birth to a boy they call Quentin. Time bursts into flames. Hating his parents for naming him after a spider, Quentin kills spiders to spite them, worrying school counselors. Twenty-first century America. Mad boy. 3-D printers. Time, get wise. They call the boy Thomas. He learns violin, no spiders wantonly harmed in this boy’s life.
From Guest Contributor Darrell Petska
Darrell is a Madison, Wisconsin writer. View some of his fiction and poetry at conservancies.wordpress.com.
Jul
Quick Examples Of Homonyms
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
“To bare one’s soul is a difficult thing indeed,” Pappa said.
Baby Bear tried to balance on one leg and fell over.
“Not that type of sole, dear,” Mamma confided, helping her son to his feet.
“What sort of education is that school providing,” Poppa growled, we can barely bear the annual fees. They don’t mete out value for honey.”
“Only the bare essentials, dear,” Momma said, ladling porridge. “That principal, Goldilocks, operates under the principle that bears have no role in The Academie.”
“I must meet her.”
“Deer meat – where?” Baby Bear licked his lips.
Poppa rolled his eyes.
From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid
May
Perspectives
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
In the past, they described Michael as an “introvert” and “sensitive.” They said he was “different, but he’s harmless.” “He’s a good kid, just a little shy.”
Today, they said he’s a “loner” and is “withdrawn.” “I knew something was wrong with that kid. “He had no friends at school and never seemed to want any friends. He sat and ate alone in the cafeteria.” “Sometimes other kids teased and made fun of Michael.”
The headline read: Michael Stocktan, age 19, entered Morris High School with his dad’s handgun and shot 19 students and a teacher. Three are critically wounded.
From Guest Contributor David W. Cofer
May
Revenge
by thegooddoctor in 100 Words
Home for a funeral, I pop into my local of yesteryear.
I recognize that boozy bleary-eyed pig face propping up the bar.
Wilkins, the school bully!
Wanker!
How he’d tormented me forty years ago, but clearly he remembers me not.
How I’ve fantasized about going back in time and standing up to him!
But now he has aged, badly, looking like a grotesquely inflated beach ball with his vast beer belly, all muscle turned to flab.
I fantasize about following him out at closing time and beating him up but desist, for life has already done the job for me.
From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher