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Is there going to be lot of blood going forward cos some of us are a bit squeamish.
 
Having been at the scene nearly 24 hours nonstop, the Deputy was tired and ready to go home and get some rest. The Sheriff had officially turned over the investigation to the state police at the old man's farm, as well as the scene at the cafe, which was somewhat related in nature. After a rather lengthy debrief the Deputy was on his way home to clean up and get some much needed rest. He lived in a nice mid-century community in town, where the lawns were all well manicured and the homes were in good condition, and everyone knew everyone else. Deputy lived alone and for the most part kept to himself. He never remarried and he spent as much time as possible inside his home out of sight when he was not working.

On the way home, thoughts of the days carnage weighed heavy on his mind and he found it hard to focus on tasks such as where to turn into his neighborhood. Eventually he had passed his own street and would find himself at the corner tavern and package store, where, he reasoned, it wouldn't hurt to treat himself to something to take the edge off of the days events. He tried to keep this type of activity as low key as possible, he had already been warned by the Sheriff about his former drinking problem and the effects it had taken on his job performance. But the last 24 hours had been especially tough, and he had some time off tomorrow, he figured it would be okay.

Once home, the Deputy had cleaned up and turned on the television to the ballgame, and made himself a good stiff drink. And another, and another after that, and so on. Before long, he would fall asleep in his favorite chair with the tv on and most of his bottle of whiskey now gone. He would probably sleep like this until daybreak, at which point he would make his way to the bedroom and sleep some more. At some point in the night he woke up to go to the bathroom and relieve himself when he noticed the sliding glass door going out to his backyard was open. He did not remember going outside at all, as he stumbled over to the door he noticed some movement in his own backyard, to which he would turn on the patio light only to see everything was normal. He closed and locked the door, leaving the light on. When he walked over to the front door to make sure it was closed, he peeked outside at the patrol car to make sure everything looked normal out on the street. He then slowly made his way back to the chair and fell asleep once again with the tv still on.

He couldn't drink away the horror he saw at the old man's farm and again at the cafe. The bloody scene, the old man's body, his miscellaneous ramblings written out for all to see. If only there were less blood and brain matter on those papers, he might have been able to read all of the warnings. Suddenly the Deputy opened his eyes and looked around his living room, the tv was off, the back patio light was off, and he heard some noise coming from out in the front yard. In an instant he was on his feet grabbing a large flashlight and his pistol and heading out front to see what was going on. Inside his patrol car was a young woman trapped, frantically trying to escape, and to his amazement the entire patrol car was filled with water. She was drowning inside. He tried to open the door but his door handles broke off due to the force. He tried to kick open the windows but the pressure was too much. The young woman was gasping for air and frantically banging on the windows inside the waterlogged patrol car, thrashing violently in a last ditch effort to escape. The Deputy drew his pistol and began firing shots at the windows to try and break them, however the rounds only pierced the windows leaving small streams of water shooting out of the car, but the entire window did not break. He could read her lips pleading for him to "HELP ME" as she gasped her last breath. He knew he had a baseball bat, axe, and shotgun inside his garage. He ran to the front door and as he ran through the house he saw the patio light was on again in the backyard and there stood alone on the back porch a familiar young naked man peering inside the house.

He paused only for a second, muttered something to himself, and then continued out into the garage desperately looking for something to break the car windows. He tripped over boxes of junk that he had been meaning to clear out and throw away as long as he could remember. Frantically he searched for his axe first, then his baseball bat until he realized he might have left both in the house in his bedroom. Once again the Deputy ran into the house, only this time he was greeted at the door by yet another familiar face..."Looking for something?" the old man asked as he held the axe with one hand and the shotgun with the other. The Deputy froze in his tracks, his mouth wide open in disbelief....the old man smiled with what was left of his face....."don't worry Deputy, she won't get away from you this time"....
 
My summer

So many people died or almost died that summer - the car crash, the suicide, the OD - and one Sunday during one of numerous sojourns up to the mountains to escape, I turned a corner near a summit and something caught my eye, a fluttering in the breeze, and dragging my bike away from the roadside and into the undergrowth to explore, with horror I realised this was a makeshift shrine to my next door neighboor, that the flutterings were sad mementoes of loss ("Dad, we love you") and as I turned away, my eyes filling, I realised that the ghosts that I'd come up here to escape simply were not going away and that this would be yet another night that I would get loaded and some hours later wake up to a pillow sodden with my own tears and sweat.

Looking back on the last decade, I had vague recollections of hotel rooms, meetings, conferences, bars, nightclubs apologising to people I barely knew after doing allegedly horrible deeds I barely remembered doing and that didn't seem all that bad anyway, in hindsight, and I had visions of smiling blonde girls with expressions turning to disgust when I told them something about myself and driving down a motorway near midnight in a convertible with a nineteen year old secretary from work, so drunk I was filled with irrational confidence about talking my way out of any police checkpoints with ease, should they cross my path ("Not like that. Slower. That's better", We could go to a movie tomorrow" and "I'm not sure if that's a good idea, sweetie") and by September of that year I was sure that I would never get better until I confronted the contradiction at the core of my being.

Sadness. It's everywhere.

(with apologies to Bret Easton Ellis)
 
One of Brandon's favorite "make out" spots had always been on the banks of the lake out by the edge of town. Tonight he was with his latest crush Tiffany, who was wearing his old high school baseball jacket to keep warm. They ran along the banks of the water until they spotted the Deputy's car off in the distance. "Maybe we should just go back to the truck", she said, afraid they would be spotted. He smiled at her in that way she couldn't resist "c'mon, where is your sense of adventure" he grabbed her hand and led her carefully towards the Deputy's patrol car.

Eli and Hailey sat first class on Flight C197 late that evening, shortly after takeoff, destination honeymoon. They were excited about their destination, constantly looking over brochures of island paradise that awaited them. The young flight attendant came over to them with a warm smile offering them refreshments. "Hi there!" Hailey beemed at her friend. "Hello Jenny, i believe we'll have tea" Eli said with a smile. Jenny served them tea with a wink and a smile and moved on to the other first class passengers including Dr. and Mrs. Fields. She served the good doctor hot chocolate as his wife continued to sleep.

Jenny stood in the galley collecting her thoughts for a moment, taking a break before it was time to serve the in flight meal. As she thought about life after college and how she finally broke out of her small town to see the world, she found it funny that so many people from her past continued to remain in her present, all passengers in the same life much like her passengers on the plane. Then the voice appeared from beyond "its time to feed the flock Jenny" the soft and yet powerful voice filled her soul. She looked around to see where it came from but found noone. She walked from the galley to the cockpit and asked the pilot and copilot if they had said anything over the PA, both shook their heads and gave her a blank expression. "You might want to hurry up with serving dinner, looks like we are in for some rough weather ahead" the pilot said to Jenny as she left the cockpit.

Jenny began to prep the inflight meal when she turned around to put some meals in the oven she stopped in her tracks, her mouth open and the meals fell from her hands to the floor. Staring back at her from the oven was a reflection of the image she'd always known as Jesus, and the image spoke to her in a voice she could clearly understand "Jenny, your name in life is the way of the wind blowing through the fields. Beware Jenny, as the valley sometimes ends abruptly, and the wind has nowhere else to blow". With that the apparition of Jesus faded away and she began to tremble.

"Whats the matter...everything okay?" he said from out in the aisle. Jenny turned around and saw Eli standing there in the dark aisle, she composed herself and assured him she was fine "its alright, i was just having a...a female moment" she faked a smile and regained her self. "Say, you might want to go back to Hailey and have a seat, i think we are in for some rough weather ahead." Eli nodded at her and made way back to his new bride, he'd only gotten up to go the the lavatory when he passed by the galley.

The plane began to shake as they hit pockets of turbulence, Dr. Fields looked over at his wife as she slept, he lovingly put his hand on her to offer comfort because he knew she didn't like to fly. Eli sat down and smiled at Hailey, he knew they were going to have a wonderful life together. As the plane hit more turbulence the Captain turned the "please fasten seatbelt sign" on and addressed the passengers over the PA that they might be in for a bumpy ride for a little bit.



The Deputy was responding to a disturbance call out near the old man's farm when he walked upon a pickup truck that was parked on the other side of the lake near the woods. The hood was still warm but there was nobody around... "damn kids" he muttered to himself...he continued on towards the old man's property where he knew he would have to be careful because the crazy old man was likely to be heavily armed and standing guard.


Lightning struck one of the planes engines on flight C197 and the entire plane shook violently. As this happened the engine caught fire, and then the wing would catch fire soon after. The plane began to shake uncontrollably when the Pilot gave the warning to all of the passengers and crew that they would have to make an emergency landing and asked them to please assume the crash position. Eli squeezed Hailey's hands and whispered to her "everything will be fine, i love you" and she looked into his eyes and she had trust in him. Dr. Fields held onto his longtime wife and looked ahead with pain in his eyes. Jenny patrolled the aisles making sure all of her passengers were in the proper crash positions. The cabin lights flickered in the plane as the wing, engulfed in flames, broke apart sending the plane in a downward spiral...


Brandon and Tiffany were inside the Deputy's patrol car making out hot and heavy when they heard the growl overhead. He looked around and saw a bright light rapidly approaching, without time to grab their clothes he jumped out of the patrol car and ran as far as he could thinking Tiffany was with him but instead she remained inside. The giant light made impact with the earth and broke apart in several pieces. As Flight C197 made contact with the ground it left a path of destruction a half mile long. Part of the wing pushed the patrol car into the lake with Tiffany inside. The old man stared with eyes and mouth wide open as a ball of flames appeared in the woods and moved towards him, turning up trees and dirt along the way. Finally the fuselage skidded to an abrupt stop on the old mans property leaving scorched earth in its wake.

The old man fell to his knees, dropping his shotgun and crying out "NO! GOD NO!...JESUS!" he sobbed at the horror of what he had witnessed. Thats when he too heard the voice from beyond, "sometimes blood will fill the skies and rain down on us without warning.....but flowers will still grow anew in the spring"




The End
 
Far and away from the transmission towers

Having had conversations about the afterlife some time ago with people who are currently there, im reminded of a story a good hearted woman told me recently.

She was driving along in a southwestern town with her beautiful daughter one morning, they were on their way to the city to go shopping. They were driving the dusty roads looking over barren landscape at big skies and small trees surrendered to the winds which swept the plains.

They came upon an intersection of what you would presume would be a small town. As they came to a stop they heard a loud popping sound as something hit the roof of her car. She did not see anyone around, so she got out and noticed what appeared to be "blood" spattered on the roof of her car and a little bit on the windshield. She panicked and got back into her car and sped off.

Later on that evening the woman and her child were watching the local news on television. They were stunned to see a story of a teenage girl who had walked the same roads that morning, around the same time, and had reportedly heard gunshots. The young girl might have been a drifter, a free spirit without a care in the world. She kept on walking until she came upon a Police station where she would report the sound of gunshots. The police noticed the young girl was bleeding, so they took her to the to the hospital where Doctors removed a bullet that was lodged into her arm.

In my dreams im out in the woods living in a log cabin that i have seen before, a vast place with big windows and plenty of decks looking over a wild terrain. The house is full of people and the day never dawns. Everyone knows me well and i know them too, we're always one step away from a big adventure or crisis. But only in those dreams can i speak to them because they don't actually exist...ever.

How many images can the human mind absorb without realizing it, only to bring you back there again later. IN dreams Or deja vu? And we can't seem to find the obvious because the clouds get in the way.

Tell me what is real and i might ask to see your scars...
 
Life has been unfaithful
And it all promised so so much
I am a relic
I am just a petrified cry
Wheeled out once a year, a cenotaph souvenir
The applause nails down my silence
 
She insisted to me that it was blood. I suggested to her that the top of her car was hit by a random paint ball from a paint ball gun. The coincidences are just too weird though, the girl who heard gunshots and wound up with a bullet in her arm....very strange.
 
loving the ones you've killed

Another hard day at the place that owns a large portion of my soul. The way home by car is typically all highway, except on the random day when the car takes the all too familair detour with me a prisoner all the way to the local watering hole.

Unscheduled stop, yes. Unpredictable, not entirely.

"They" used to say if you don't like your job, find a better one. They don't say that anymore; now if youre lucky enough to have a job, quit complaining and count your blessings.

I fancy the stool near the bar itself, where i can dream of far away places while i sample the chips and dips that accompany numerous glasses of choice ale.

Several younger guys sit at a table nearby, close enough that i can hear most of their carefree ramblings about life and other typical banter from lads their age. I walk past them to use the restroom, gazing down at them as i pass on by. I suspect they took issue with me looking them over, as i could hear them commenting amongst themselves as i went on my way.

Inside the restroom im dreaming once and again of those far off places. It always starts out innocently enough, the tide, the sunset, the clouds melting on the horizon while stars are coming out above. It's a beautiful place, but it's usually interrupted by planes crashing much closer to home. I can't tell you how....everytime i hear a plane fly overhead at work im wondering if this is really going to be the one. It's usually a different plane in my dream, but the end result is always the same....

Finally ive come to the end of my business in the restroom and im not even sure what im doing anymore. Going to have to make it back out to my stool where chips and salsa, cheese and ale await. I've lost some of my beliefs along the way but i make it back to my barstool mostly intact, until i notice the table full of youngsters, all eyes transfixed on me.

I should probably just ignore them, three guys against one is never good odds, but of course i don't. I crack my knuckles and throw the first punch as they all rise up from the table, i grab a chair and smash it over the largest guy's head. It went something like that for a few minutes...as far as i can remember...then after what must have been another one of my hallucinations....i wake up on the ground with all three of them standing over me.

I can see the planes circling overhead...as i often do....when one of the lads helps me up off of the ground. I shake the glass off of me from a broken bottle or two as another fellow hands me a napkin for the blood thats gathering on my chin. I size them up again, noticing their bruises and bumps, and i thank them for their time. I stumble out of the bar, slowly, tossing a few bills towards the bartender with a humble apology for damage done.

I look back at the lads, still standing among the rubble in disbelief. I give them a sort of a wave goodbye and they all return in favor without a blink of the eye. With that i am on my way. I think my arm is probably broken, ribs bruised, neck is sore, and i will need a few stitches on my chin, under my eye, etc.

It's been awhile since i felt this much pain...been awhile since i felt this much alive.

Outside I hear the distant roar of aircraft rumbling overhead as i gingerly try to fit behind the wheel of my car, pain riveting up and down my body. I look up to watch the lights pass by....i think today isn't going to be that day afterall.
 
Thank you.

i was in the army for a few years, did a couple of tours here and there, including Korea. Wonderful Korea, so many blessed people there, so many tales to tell...

Im currently working for the DOD at an air force base.

Some parts of this (latest) story are true, some are just given to interpertation. I have scars on my face that are older than interference, from instances like the one described above.

Some days it's hard to tell what is real, some days its hard not to. Most days are just a blessing.
 
the road rage at twenty nine palms

The end of life. Quite an extraordinary crossroads to find one's self at.

We were on the run from ourselves and others, but so far we had succesfully evaded them all. Through blood soaked eyes our vision is red and obscured, mostly just shades of red between the blowing dust in the blast furnace winds. The sound of our hearts beating reverberated with the helicopters overhead.

The day started off innocenty enough for Carlota and myself, we were driving through the desert looking for something different. From the way this all unfolds i would suspect we had found it. We were tired, hungry, and desperate, but none of that mattered because we were in love. So we drove deep into the no man's land where outside the heat would take your breath away. It would take more than that too, if you let it. We weren't on a mission to yield to mother nature or father in heaven, just on a mission to prove our love to each other.

Person in the silver jeep pulled out of the roadside cafe onto the bleak highway in front of us, we must have looked like a mirage cooking on the road for she obviously did not see us. We plowed into her at well over the speed limit, causing major damage to her vehicle and ours. The license plate on the back of her jeep was personalized and read; "GODSJEP". As we collected ourselves, i questioned the spelling of her personalized plate to Carlota, why would GOD have a JEP and not a "JEEP". Afterall GOD is GOD, you would think he/she could afford the extra "E" in Jeep? We looked into the JEEP and behind the steering wheel a lady was slumped back with her eyes and mouth open, blood streaming from an open gash in her head. We stared at her for a few minutes, and then back at the wreckage that was our own vehicle, and then decided that now would be a good time for a lunch break. After what sounded like several gunshots going off, we headed through the blowing sand into the roadside cafe while the two vehicles burned outside on the highway.

The hostess seated us near the back of the cafe, which was cool and inviting, and had an oddly youthful staff. All of them were very clean and polite, much not what one would expect for someone of their age at this location. I ordered a large schooner of cold beer, followed by another, while Carlota would order lemonade with her meal. We stared lovingly into each others eyes while salads were brought to the table and the finest assortment of new wave and early alternative pop music played over the speakers. Some of the songs we both knew well, others were a bit more challenging, but all were appreciated and sounded very refreshing.

Around the cafe most of the patrons ate their food in an odd silence akin to someone who'd missed their way home. The older couple a few tables down ate their dinner without ever speaking a word, just staring off into space as if together they were alone. The large man and his little boy sat down at the table across from us, the man would listen patiently as his boy would talk about random things a child would talk about. Eventually the large man would reveal to his child that he had intended on keeping a certain promise he had made when the boy was born, that today would be the day to fullfill that promise. The more cold schooner's of GOD'S ALE i would drink, the more relaxed in the sounds i would become.


Watching in a trance,
the crew is certain.
Nothing left to chance,
all is working.
Trying to relax
up in the capsule
"Send me up a drink."
jokes Major Tom.
The count goes on...

Around the cafe, an extraordinary event was taking place before our eyes. Carlota point this out to me, though she wouldn't have to. The young waitress appeared with our meal, in the nude, and smiled as she asked us if we needed anything else. The large hippopotamus at the table next to us spoke to his young hippo calf that today would be their day. The calf grunted and snorted in approval/excitement. The older couple a few tables away were still not talking, but at least they were smiling at what seemed to be each other. In her hair the older lady wore a hat with roses, swarming around the floral arrangement were bees. They say you shouldn't kill bees anymore. But that did not stop the birds from landing in her nest and one of them became very protective of the eggs from other birds that would occasionally swoop down to try and eat. Back in the kitchen one of the cooks had accidentially set himself on fire, the other cook urinated on him to help put out the fire, they'd both laugh about it and go out back for a smoke. I took a large gulp of my ale and ordered another from the naked waitress.

4, 3, 2, 1
Earth below us
drifting, falling.
Floating weightless
calling, calling home...


The pigs began to file into the cafe in a most orderly fashion. The older lady cried out as her flesh began to disappear, layer after layer, until she was reduced to bones and then into dust. Her husband removed her crown and then put it on his own head, and continued to stare off into the distance without saying a word.

Outside the fires raged in the barren land that God had forgotten. Despite the oasis we'd found, we could only turn off the ugliness for a little while. Helicopters circled overhead like vultures awaiting a kill. I held Carlota's hand tightly as we layed on the charred ground, she spoke not a word with her eyes shut and her lifeless body a testament that God still had one last score to settle. In my other hand, a gun, for i could not pray away the agony and pain but i would not succumb to the approaching posse.

Music really was that much better back then...
 
driving into the storm

because it's safer than smoking among the cedar trees during this terrible drought. Where there's smoke.....

This summer we've had 46 days of 100+ degree temps, and the other days have all been in the upper 90's, 98, 99, etc. We've consistently had hotter temperatures than places like Phoenix, Vegas even, with soaring highs ranging from 105 to 108 to even 110 and 113! Shit!

At work ive noticed a moth clinging to the wall of one of our long corridors, hanging onto whatever, near those fancy motivational pictures with a waterfall background and the words "SUCCESS" or some catchphrase that's supposed to make me feel like we are all winners. So tuesday morning i am rapidly making my way down the long corridor with no less than 6 reports in my hand i will use to brief in the morning production meeting when i pass by my friend the moth, only to notice he's no longer there on the wall. Instead he is lying on the floor motionless.

i think to myself that it was a shame i didn't try and somehow get him and take him outside. Surely there could have been a way to do that? He cant live forever inside the building....then again he probably would have died out in the absurd heat. I passed by him everyday for at least a week, he sat there in the same spot on the wall, maybe trying desperately to hold on for all he could until he couldn't hold on anymore...

And then

(there is no and then)

I'm reminded of the crazy butcher who's chopped up all of his coworkers at the grocery store. He was a quiet type who kept to himself until the day they ran out of meat. He knew Mr. and Mrs. Crabtree would be in later looking for a discount ham or maybe a roast, but he was running out of meat because the store wasn't making enough money on canned goods to invest in fresh beef and poultry, plus they'd over budgeted on advertising during hard economic times.

Crazy butcher took matters into his own hands, literally. He grabbed the employees one by one and took them into the meat cooler and cut their throats until they bled out all over the floor. Then he undressed them and methodically cut them up into many pieces of flesh and wrapped them up for sale. Pretty soon the store had a nice selection of meat again, wrapped and ready to sale at a discounted price for all of the Mr. and Mrs. Crabtree's' who would shop the store on "senior day". They depended on the butcher and he wasn't going to let them down.

The crazy butcher watched through the glass windows of the meat dept as Mr. & Mrs. Crabtree picked through the fresh daily specials with delight and carefully placed them into their basket. He then came out to meet them and was troubled by the expression on their face when they saw him. Mrs. Crabtree suggested he go back and change into some new smock because his old one was covered with blood. In fact, there was blood everywhere, and the fresh meat packages were somewhat bloodier than usual. Mr. Crabtree then noticed that the meat curtain over the conveyor was bloody and something appeared caught up in it.

Crazy butcher reached into the meat curtain and pulled out the object that was caught up on the backside of the bloody curtain and the conveyor, it was none other than a severed head of store manager Dan. Mr. and Mrs. Crabtree gasped at the horrible sight, but crazy butcher was very reassuring, "don't worry ma'am, sir, there's plenty more where this came from!" With that he ran back into the meat department and hurriedly began grabbing random body parts off of the floor and stuffing them onto the conveyor. As these various bloody scraps and appendages all began to slowly pass through the meat curtain and pile out onto the rack in front of a shocked Mr. and Mrs. Crabtree, crazy butcher emerged from the door to reassure his long time customers, "see" he pointed to the grisly display creeping along the conveyor, "the curtains do match the rug" he said with salesmanship and a smile.
 
the glory hole for useful idiots

We smoked and drank our product....think twice before you

I woke up this morning, still dreaming about planes falling out of the sky, and running through the countryside like a refugee trying to cross a mine-field. Ive had this dream before...the war heats up in the sky overhead and as the planes are shot down, they usually come within inches of us. Some of them turn upside down in the air and seem to float in their smoky haze of defeat. Usually when i have this dream i am asleep though, was a rare instance that it carried over into the waking hours....

We'd carried our crop to the edge of the bluffs when we heard it stirring in the distance. Every sound was funny....followed by picture frames in our minds that promised eternity through time warps and corridors hidden in the skies. The two-headed mountain lion growled at us with twice the fury we could imagine. All we could do was run into the fields. Our feet were slow movers, no weapons, only our own ambition. We could barely keep ahead of the beast...

Today i went to class to study some basic BS i already know well. It was good to be away from the office, despite the fact that my workload in the bunker is piling up without me. So as they went around the room and did introductions, i was horrified that the guy who sat front and center happened to be a crazy ex-marine whom i had cursed at over the phone 6 months ago. You think he remembered me, with a unique name like mine (as the instructor put it)? Maybe i wasn't so hard on him, actually i just told him to stop being such a pussy and grow a pair. He was a real piece of work...and he did glare at me throughout the day. I noticed at lunch he decided to park his sedan next to mine, and im the guy who always parks the farthest away from everyone and everything and has to walk a mile, even in the rain. He probably wanted to put one of those GPS thingy's on my car like Hank gave to Walt to put on Gustavo's Volvo....you know the one...when i wasn't looking.

Anyway the crazy ex-marine as it turns out also was the annoying know-it-all who just has to talk after, during every bit of instruction and compete for floor time with the instructor. Everyone else in the class would just roll their eyes...even the instructor was growing tired of his act. So finally at 15:15 she lets us go, and im approaching my car and guess who is practically breathing down my neck keeping pace with me? Yeah. So i turn around and say "hey" to him and he was actually cordial with me. But then he turned predictably creepy, and picks 15:17 hours today in the rain to tell me about the plate he has in his back and his head thanks to injuries received in Afghanistan. As if i really needed to know why he's suck a fucking nut. Well not to be outdone here, Marine Corp versus Army, i laugh and say "oh you got a metal plate? That's nothing, ive got a whole fucking platter up here (pointing to my head) and these were blown off in Gulf-1 (grabbing my balls) and the doc replaced them with ones made of steel"

He called me an asshole and hopped into his Maxima and sped off, meanwhile i waved him the one fingered victory salute and then hopped in my cruiser and took off in the other direction, planes still taking off and landing at the nearby flight-line.
 
If you ask me, anyone that drives a Maxima deserves stabbing in the head with a pitchfork. Personally I wouldn't be seen near one, let alone in one.
 
Хороший котенок знает достойного противника, когда он видит это.

putin_1768930b.jpg
 
So ive been noticing a lot of planes falling out of the sky lately, sometimes as I have dreamt, other times not so much. I still notice them. Im wondering if the cows and chickens are next?

If you see cows taking refuge in treetops please make a note of it and get back to me. If you see fish airborne, taking flight, etc., then we are probably fucked.
 
I saw the four horsemen of the apocalypse, the greatest minds of their generation consumed by madness, yearning only to burn like fabulous roman candles, sadly, they were all out of combustibles.
 
Kieran, I know what you mean about the yearning. Once I knew of a very bright child, he was my friend, as children we often played in a castle on a small island in the middle of a big lake. Some would call it a fort, we called it a castle. Over time i'd outgrown the place, but my friend, mad on his ideas, decided to live in this castle in the middle of the small island in the big lake as his dedicated home.

Some years went by, one time I had came home from the army and decided to go out to the big lake and see if my friend was still around. I took the old boat out to the middle island and the castle was there, still standing after all of this time. Once inside the castle I found my friend, he had spent his days writing horrific prophecies down in the dirt and the sand. None of it made sense really, until I noticed the hole in his head and realized that maggots were eating his brain. He is still alive to this day, legend has it, maggots and all. Its strange to me that he outlived all of his doomsday scenarios - I guess brain rot will do that to you. That and a steady diet of Twinkies, bourbon, and smokes.
 
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