Can You Write A 100-Word Story Using Only These Cards?

This is the place for a weekly flash fiction contest!

Can you write a story in 100 words?

The Apples To Apples Drabble! 

The Rules: 

  1. Write a drabble. A drabble is a 100-word story, with beginning, middle and end. A drabble can be any genre. Make it exactly 100 words. You can do it. That’s what adjectives and adverbs are for.
  2. Include each of the three Apples To Apples cards in the photo. All three. Not two. Not four. ALL THREE. New cards are chosen every week. And you can ignore the small words that explain it clearer. We just want the big three.
  3. Paste your drabble into the comments below. Then share this with your friends. The more comments you get on your entry, the more likely you are to win!
  4. Absolutely no links, screen shots or salesy type of behavior in the content entry. 
  5. Winners are chosen by the amount of positive response they get. Comments like, “This is great!” or “How funny!” or “Good job!” are the kinds of things that will be counted. Negative comments like, “this contest sucks” or “the rest of the entries are losers” or “WTF?” will be unapproved. The author of this blog reserves the right to ignore or block any content that is suspected of originating from trolls. In the event of a tie, winners will be chosen by this method. 
  6. Limit 3 entries per person. If you’re having fun, come back next Friday.
  7. This contest is open from 5:00 AM EST every Friday and closes down the following Sunday night at midnight. Comments are welcome throughout the week, but no more entries are allowed. 
  8. All entries must contain no profanity, no graphic violence or erotica, and no hate speech. Entries that do not abide by this rule will not be approved. Consistent abuse of this rule will warrant a blocked user.
  9. Winning entries will be announced on the 10 Minute Novelists Facebook group page the following Friday. The entry will also be published in the monthly digital newsletter, 10 Minute Novelists Insider. You can sign up for this here! 
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This week’s cards!

Apples To Apples Drabble for March 10, 2017

29 thoughts on “Can You Write A 100-Word Story Using Only These Cards?

  1. My first visit to McDonald’s was a rare treat for good behavior when I was nine. My best friend bragged about eating more Big Macs than his Big brother. I couldn’t wait to get a Happy Meal because I wanted the red Corvette Hot Wheels that comes with it.

    “Mom! I want the fish!”
    “The Happy Meal only has hamburgers.” Trustworthy mom, always right.

    Furious, I joined my parents with my sad, little sandwich. That night, I was violently ill. The sight of Golden arches makes me nauseous, cured by the wind in my hair speeding in my red Corvette.

  2. “And why do you want to work here?” The manager perused my scant resume.

    Why did any teenage girl want a job? Money.

    But my best friend Will had coached me before the interview. “I’ve always wanted to work in the food industry. And I’m dependable and trustworthy.”

    He set down the paper. “Welcome to McDonalds. When can you start?”

    I left five minutes later, ducking into Will’s car.

    “And?”

    I grinned. “My first shift’s on Monday.”

    “I told you. I knew you’d get it.”

    And then he kissed me, effectively ruining our friendship. I could not have cared less.

  3. She’s my best friend because she’s trustworthy. I’ve been working at McDonald’s for more years than I care to count, and of all my coworkers, Darnelle is the best. We make the biscuits every morning: Darnelle mixing and rolling the dough; me placing the biscuits and baking them. Not many people here like me. My manager has been looking for an excuse to fire me for years, but despite my Nazi face tattoos, I’m a good worker, one of the best.
    Yes, Darnelle has my back, just the way a best friend would. I ought to make more blind friends.

  4. “We ought to head to the old McDonald’s farm.”
    I stared into night so dark that even my hands were invisible. “Are they trustworthy?”
    “Always have been. It’s the only place between here and the river where we can get shelter.”
    “Don’t they overwinter down south?”
    “Yes, and no caretaker.”
    “Neighbors?”
    “You know they’re too far out to see anything. Look, I don’t care what happened between you and Billy, I’m not going to risk hypothermia when there’s a place just a mile off.”
    I sighed. Grace was my best friend, but she just didn’t understand about Billy and me.

  5. “Trust me.”

    “Trust you? Are you serious?” I had to look away. Regain composure. Anger’s heat was boiling. Sweat running.

    “This can be really good.”

    My eyes snapped back at who I thought was my best friend. “You lied to me! Why do you think you are trustworthy? You took my money under agreement.”

    Adam squirmed under scrutiny. The hard plastic McDonald’s chair creaked as he twisted.

    My hands shook; face pale.

    Leaning forward Adam spoke softer, sliding a contact card toward me. “I know what you wanted me to buy but this clinic can cure your addiction. Trust me.”

  6. This is the entry of Olivia Folmer Ard:

    When I drive past the McDonald’s on Sullivan, I think about Christa. We worked together the summer of our sophomore year, back when we thought driver’s licenses and pay stubs and stolen kisses with the cute boys who worked the fryers made us grown-ups. We’d started working on the same day, and from that point on, we were inseparable. She was my best friend, the most trustworthy person I knew. But I saw what she scribbled in her infamous purple glitter pen, spelling out a confirmation of my worst fears.

    Puberty is a warzone. And now it’s my daughter’s turn.

  7. He sat in the back corner at McDonald’s talking to somebody who wasn’t there. He wore a knit cap, and a torn winter coat. His boots had no laces and the soles were flopping free. His jeans were old and dirty. If you got close you could smell the odor that follows the homeless. He held a steaming cup of coffee in his crooked fingers. Most of the patrons avoided him. But not my best friend, her love of all those broken and hurting was a trustworthy facet of her character. So we sat down at his booth for lunch.

    1. I can neither confirm nor deny that I am reading this from the reference desk of the public library where I work with these folks all day…all I can say is great and powerful description…spot on.

  8. “A friend in need is a friend indeed, Marcy!” I yelled. “Looks like you’re not as trustworthy as I thought.”

    “Seriously, calm down.” I hated it when she did that. Like I was the bad guy for getting mad. She was so infuriating I wanted to slap her. “It’s not like there aren’t other jobs out there. Mcdonald’s, for instance.”

    “You have plenty of money! Yet you went behind my back get that job. You knew I needed it. You’re the one who told me about it!”

    She patted my arm. “You’ll live, sweetie. Are you still buying my lunch?”

  9. I tightened the belt on my trench coat and adjusted my sunglasses as I slipped into the corner booth at Mc Donald’s. Would my best friend even recognize me?
    “Hey, Harri—”
    I slapped the table, and she rolled her eyes.
    “Dang it. What’s the code this week? Sherlock?”
    I glanced around as I shook my head. Though she had a memory like a black hole, Livy was trustworthy.
    “Humperdink.”
    I slipped off my glasses. “Thanks for coming. Help yourself to fries.”
    “You’ve got something?”
    I slid a notebook across the table. “Four more chapters.”
    “I’ll be brutal.”
    “Much appreciated.”

  10. Memory isn’t trustworthy. We invent stories to ease our consciences, to assuage our guilt. But sometimes our memory does just the opposite. It was my dad’s, after all, but I still feel like it was my fault. My best friend Billy had come for a sleepover. We were going to play Nintendo and eat junk food until we fell asleep or threw up, whichever came first. Oh, and talk about Julie McDonald’s wondrous development over the summer holidays. But Duck Hunt is so much more fun with a real gun. I was eleven. Billy is going to be eleven forever.

  11. Gunnery Sergeant McDonald’s staticky voice broke over the comms. “Right, you idiots, DO NOT get yourselves shot out there.” Corporal Jaurez checked his weapon, which he had affectionately named ‘my best friend,’ one more time. I double-checked mine too. There’s nothing quite as trustworthy as a gun you’ve just checked, the Sergeant used to say. Then he would tell us to check it again. When the the sirens went off we poured out of the transport while tracers lit up the night. Juarez was wrong though. Gunnery Sergeant McDonald, with his endless drills, checks and double-checks, was MY best friend.

  12. No one knows my secret. Not even my best friend. And I’m never telling.

    You can call it an addiction if you want to. I prefer to think of it as my weird little quirk.

    I’m ordinarily an upstanding and trustworthy person. I show up to work on time and always make nutritious meals for my family.

    It only happens once a year, late at night, when I am certain no one is watching. I sneak to the garage and back the car out with its lights off. No stops. Straight to the McDonald’s drive thru for my Shamrock Shake.

  13. The bereaved, trustworthy husband wailed, “Why was my wife strangled? She was my best friend! I truly loved her!”

    The killer reasoned, if she had not rejected me like all the others, I might have let her live.

    “Why are the women I choose always so fickle, sweet and sour at the same time, like a pickle on a McDonald’s hamburger,” his weird mind thought.

    The Town’s funeral conductor, Pastor Goodman, finished the tearful service; ending with a beautiful prayer. In his pocket he had a trophy from his victim, her necklace. “It will look pretty along with the others.”

  14. My best friend and I sat in a booth at McDonald’s. We scarfed down our cheeseburgers and fries. Neither one of us spoke. A tall boy passed by the window.

    “Did you see him?” Sydney asked, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

    “You mean Troy?” I replied.

    “How do you know him?” Sydney finished the last bite of her burger.

    “He’s in my English class.”

    Sydney smiled.

    “Hey, Eliza, how are you?” Troy said, walking up to our booth.

    “I’m great. This is my friend Sydney.”

    Troy looked at her. “Nice to meet you.”

    Sydney couldn’t get a word out.

  15. My best friend was someone I thought was trustworthy. Someone I thought I could trust above all others. Something I thought had my back. I was mistaken.

    I’m ashamed to say that I trusted her for years, I didn’t see all the little things that she did. I suppose she was very clever.

    For the entire time, we had been friends, she had been lying, cheating, stealing and using our friendship against me.

    The last time I saw my so called best friend was when she was sentenced for her part in the attempted robbery of a branch of McDonald’s.

  16. After no contact for 15 years, my sister called me three months ago from a McDonalds to say she was married to an abusive man and had to get away. Thinking that she was trustworthy, I immediately sent a bus ticket and money to get her across the states. “My best friend is back,” I’d thought.

    I opened my home and wallet to make sure she felt safe and secure. She needed excuses for her behavior; I became her “devil.” Sister, wallet, and house are gone. I spend my days staring at the tiled ceiling at the state mental hospital.

  17. No one knew how quickly things were to change for Kara after ordering her happy meal. Only the psychotic cashier at McDonalds knew. He’d been watching for just her type.

    Kara and her best friend slid into a booth to eat. They laughed, he watched – ironically, everyone thought he was trustworthy. He watched as the best friend left for the restroom. Now was his chance.

    Kara had noticed the odd cashier earlier. Currently, he offered her a coupon for a free cone. Hesitantly, she decided follow him back to the counter. As they reached it, he quickly absconded with her.

  18. At five minutes to seven, I change my outfit for the fourth time and consider cancelling the blind date.

    I had reluctantly gone along with Blake’s plan to set me up, because I had nothing to lose. My last date, took me to McDonald’s.

    Blake is the most loyal and trustworthy friend I have and he wears I will love this guy.

    I nervously bit my lip and glance at the clock as the hour hand lands on the seven. There is a knock. I open the door to see my best friend, Blake, with flowers and a nervous grin.

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