A few seconds about racism.

Coming back to the tablet, as it were, and starting off with an interesting experience.

Three men were in my store, all older than me. One was probably in his late twenties, another in his early thirties, and then the one nearing 50. All going off on rants about how they hate black people. They assured me that once I get "burned by one too" that I'd be just as hateful.

You know, I am hateful. Hateful of you stupid cocksuckers setting back the human race 50 years. Way to show evolution you insecure racist bastards. I hope all three die.


To finish this short thought, let me impart a joke.


What do you call a Black man flying a plane?

give up?

A Pilot, you racist bastard :D

-AG

Random Thought #2

WHY WOULD ANYONE CHEAT AT AN RPG?

Okay, I can see maybe if you're having real trouble in one spot and can't seem to get any farther otherwise. Or looking up a walkthrough for a bit here and there. But why would ANYONE use a cheat device start to finish on a long as hell RPG (say... Final Fantasy Tactics) and then try to return it two days later complaining that it was too short. Well of COURSE it was too short, you did a jumpcut right to the damn ending! Idiot!

-A

Random Thought #1

Anytime I have another piece of writing I need to tend to I'm going to put up a random thought rather than a story. This is the first of such musings.


Why is it whevenver you hear about a celebrity or anyone really who went through heavy drugs, crime, and other mischief and goes to jail, they find Jesus and become a born-again christian. That's just fine and dandy, but why don't criminals ever convert to Jehovah's Witness' or Mormonism? Are these religions too good for the common criminal? I think they're snobs, personally. Damn snobbish religions.

A page in history

Not exactly what I had in mind, but I'll take it.

Bottom of the ninth, two outs, two strikes, man on first and their cleanup hitter in the batter's box. It's the seventh game of the World Series, the score is 1-0, and here I am wearing a Cubs uniform with and entire city betting on my next pitch. Skip's screaming at me from the dugout but that's to be expected since he never wanted me out here in the first place. I made history a lot this year. Just by making the team, getting in a game, and getting my first save I made history. No woman ever did these things in professional baseball, you see.

However, looking back and seeing my Manager about to have a heart attack doesn't surprise me. I'm a good pitcher but not the best on the team and I probably wouldn't have made the playoff squad if it weren't for a rash of injuries at the end of the season. Unfortunatly for my teammates, the rash didn't end. By the time we won games five and six to tie up this series against the Yankees, we had lost every pitcher save for one... me. So, the rookie middle relief pitcher, and first woman to play in the majors, went out to start game seven of the biggest baseball game in Chicago's history. No pressure, they told me, it's just like any other game. Right.

All these thoughts and more run through my head as the seconds pass. The catcher is giving me signals. I shake off the fastball, he's waiting on it I'm sure. I don't know what possessed me to even take this course in my life. I had just decided to pitch in a recreation baseball league for exercise. The leagues were co-op so there wasn't an issue until people found out I could pitch, and very well at that. I struck out people like it was going out of style. Next thing you know I got interest as a novelty signing by minor league teams, and it seems like no time passed at all until I got here.

Knuckleball? Are you serious? I shake off the newest sign, I wonder what the hell this guy's thinking. He calls time and comes up to the mound.

This is insane. I've never started a game, I've only appeared in games as a bridge between the starter and closer. I didn't even know how to start a baseball game, the team had to walk me through the process. Somehow, we've scratched and clawed our way to a no-hitter. I threw a walk to start the inning to break up the perfect but at this point I'd be happy with a win any way possible. Each out seemed to take maximum effort of both myself and the team. Strikeouts were rare and always took at least eight pitches to get. Most of the outs were the infield scrambling to catch line drives and catching up to ground balls that took odd bounces. The ball kept getting to the first baseman's glove in time though.

Here's the catcher, also a backup player, to talk it over. Poor guy, this is his first start as well. We're the blind leading the blind under the worst pressure possible. We talk, deciding to throw the signal for a fastball but to throw a changeup regardless. If the runner on first is stealing signs, we'll give him one to steal.

The prospect of purposely throwing a slower pitch to someone who's made millions of dollars hitting home runs scares me, but I can't think of anything else to do. The batter sets himself as the catcher squats back down. He throws the sign for a fastball and I accept, not even bothering to check back on first to see if they're stealing. It won't matter if this guy misses. Deep breath, wind up, and I throw the pitch, hoping this guy thinks it's coming out fast....


thunk

BALL THREE

Oh.
Shit.

Looking behind me, I see the runner moved to second. Our catcher didn't have a chance to make the throw to get him out. Great, a long line drive can tie it now, a home run will win it for them. The catcher starts to get up again but I wave him back down. We can do it, there's nobody else to do it anyway.

He throws a sign down. Fastball. Hell no, I shake it off.

Next sign is a changeup. No, I couldn't get the last one in the strike zone.

Next sign is a slider. Slider? I've never thrown that pitch before, I'm sure he knows that. We went over what pitches I throw before the game. But then again, he wouldn't be expecting that would he?

I accept the sign and straighten up. If I don't get this pitch right it's over and I know it. I twist my fingers around the ball, trying to remember how to hold it for a slider. After a few tries I came across what I thought was the slider hold, it would have to do. I check back for the runner, who takes a huge lead. A very very large lead indeed...

I snap my body around and throw a fastball to second base. I put too much on the ball, the second baseman tries to catch it but fails, and the ball goes flying into the outfield. Crap! The center fielder scrambles to catch up to the ball as the runner rounds third base and heads for home.

I am so dead. I shouldn't even go back to the city, I should move to Canada. The center fielder throws short, hoping to get it to someone in time for them to make the throw at the plate. They're all going to kill me for messing this up, the entire town of Chicago which used to love me for getting here against all odds will turn on me in an instant. My heart sinks as the ball finds its way into my glove, forcing me to turn around and throw it hard at the catcher. It would take a miracle to stop this run as the catcher gets the ball and swipes his glove downward at the sliding runner...


OUT!


...out? OUT?

The explosion of cheers nearly cause me to pass out. We got the runner stealing home, game over, Chicago wins. The team rushes to the plate, huddling around the backup catcher and celebrating the win. Some of the players pass me on the mound, trying to drag me to the rest of the team but for some reason I needed to sit down. Holding my head in my hands, I didn't think of the ramifications. I didn't think about the idea that other women could see what happened today and maybe play in the league themselves. I didn't think about history, or money, or fame. I just felt relief that it was over, and that the pressure was off.

I never want to play this damn game again.


-A

I guess I call this one "Mulligan".

She stayed perfectly still, frozen in their pose in an absurd fear that movement would force the chain of events she detested into motion. In reality, the only enemy she had was time, and it was winning. Jessica held onto Samantha, Sam for short, as if her life depended on it. Her embrace getting tighter and tighter until Samantha started to cough.

"Sorry," said Jessica, realizing her grip had gotten too tight.

"It's alright," replied Sam, "I know how you feel."


It felt like they had known each other forever, the love each had for the other so intense. Jessica wondered how they could ever deal with a day not being near each other. She also realized that soon they would find out regardless of their wishes. Horrible timing, if only she had come across this idea before the school year, and not after graduation. If only she thought of it before choosing a school three thousand miles away. If only she had thought of it with more than a day left before she was set to move into her dorm room in Washington.


The day couldn't be described, everything was a blur to her. That morning Jessica woke up and went through her usual summertime routine. Rolling out of bed at the crack of noon, she stumbled down the stairs and poured herself a bowl of Apple Jacks. With both her parents already at work, she turned on the TV and planned to spend her last day before college lazing about and relaxing.

Then the phone rang. Jessica picked up, ready to hear the instant tirade of her mother telling her she should be preparing for the move. Instead, she got an earful of The Smiths and someone failing to talk over it.

"What?" Jessica yelled into the reciever.

"MEET..... AT THE..... MALL!" the girl on the other end screamed.

"Jesus Christ," Jess mumbled, "Where?"

"YOU KNOW.... THE.... MALL!" yelled the girl again, accompanied by giggling and screaming in the background.

"Right, whatever," said Jess, hanging up. Figures, her friends try one last get together when she least wants it. Slurping down the remnants of her milk, Jess ignored the continued grumbling of her stomach and trudged back up the stairs to the bathroom to get ready. Shower, brush hair, brush teeth, makeup... no. Jess felt slightly different on this day. She brushed her jet black hair again, letting it fall naturally to her sides rather than up into a ponytail. Instead of the powder and black makeup treatment, she put on a small amount of blue eyeliner and matching lipstick and left it at that. Looking in the mirror she wanted to laugh at the way she looked.

No wonder people like to look normal like this, she thought, it's not conformity, it's laziness!

Her friends would freak. For years they 'rebelled' against the so-called tyranny of their teachers and parents. Deep inside she knew it was all crap and she suspected her friends did too. It was simply an escape, a way to make yourself feel like the underdog hero in some stupid us-against-the-world story rather than just another face in a huge crowd. Everyone made their little fantasies and surrounded themselves with people just like them. The goths, preps, jocks, everyone had a label and clung to it as if they wouldn't be a human being without it. Looking at herself in a decidedly un-goth getup, she realized that maybe she could act more like a human being without such a label.


Going through her closet and picking the most 'normal' outfit she could find, she rushed through her 'morning' and jumped into her car. Reversing out of her driveway, she didn't bother to check her mirrors as she went into drive and sped off towards the local mall. She felt different today, happy to be alive and not caring about what might happen. Why should she? Tomorrow she'd be a freshman all over again in another city. Today was a mulligan.


She got to the mall in record time, parking in the farthest spot away from the door to the food court. It seemed like everyone else decided to go to the mall as well. She jumped from the comfortable air conditioned car into the muggy humid hell that was outside and fast walked towards the door. She hated summer if only for the weather, it always felt like nature was punishing you for getting all those days off from school.

Once inside she tried to locate her friends, but even in this throng of humanity spotting three goth girls would be hard. After a few minutes she gave up, figuring it would be easier for them to find her. She queued up to the line at the China Court food stand. The line was long and got longer as she felt the presence of people standing behind her. Out of habit, she started looking up and around, everywhere but behind her to see who was there. It reminded her of the cafeteria lunch lines at school, and unless you went up to the line as a group you just didn't look behind you. It was a unwritten rule and a social blunder to break it. So, instead, she looked everywhere else, including up towards the mirrored ceiling.

She had never noticed the ceiling of the food court. Had it always been mirrored? She cursed her poor memory but used this new information to her advantage, sneaking a peek of the line behind her. No one she really knew, the only familiar face was the person behind her. It was a girl she graduated with by the name of Samantha Alder. Part of the 'popular' clique and star guard for the school basketball team. Rumor was she got a fat scholarship package to some college for her skill on the court. She was athletic, pretty, intelligent, and always surrounded herself with people just like her in school. The 'popular' group, yet another label. Jessica smiled inside as she felt the weight of her own label lifted. To hell with cliques, she thought.

She ordered her favorite mall dish, General Tso's Chicken, and made her way to the only empty table in sight in the food court. She glanced around again for her friends but couldn't see anyone recognizable. I must have driven faster than I thought, she mused to herself. Minutes later she sensed the presence of someone behind her again. However, before she could cheat and look up to see who it was, the person spoke.

"Mind if I sit with you?" the person asked, "There aren't any other seats around."

Jessica looked back and saw the same girl that was standing behind her in line. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, this couldn't go well at all. But then again, Jess thought, my friends aren't here and what do I have to lose? I'll be gone tomorrow anyway...


"Be my guest," Jessica replied with a smile, "Who am I to stop you?"


Samantha sat down, and made her own scan of the food court. Seemingly satisfied with her results, she plopped down her chicken tempura.


"Afraid to be seen with me?" Jessica asked, sure that the other girl must hate being with one of the 'goths' in public.

"Huh?" Samantha asked, "Oh. Oh, no, I was looking for my friends, they said they were going to meet me here and bring me to a party but..." She trailed off, not wanting to speak out her fears that her friends played a trick on her.

"But you got ditched too, huh?" Jessica finished, "Same boat, different party."

Samantha laughed, "I guess we hang out in the wrong crowds, huh?"

"I guess so," Jessica smiled. She was surprised at how easy it was to talk to someone who just three months ago wouldn't have given her the time of day. She started in on her food as Samantha spoke up again.

"Look at me, being rude. I'm sorry, my name is Samantha. Samantha Alder, pleasure to meet you! What's your name?" she asked.

Jessica almost choked. She doesn't know who I am? ...Or maybe she doesn't recognize me.

"Jessica, Jessica Stein," she replied, "You may not recognize me but I recognize you. We graduated together, you know. Exeter High School, 2004"

Recognition dawned on Sam's face, "I thought I recognized you, but you look so... so different today! Well, it's great to at least see a friendly face today, I can't tell you how crazy it's been for me this morning."

"Why not?" Jessica asked, suddenly curious about the other girl's life. Why not find out about the former 'enemy', Jess thought. Today was a mulligan, right?

Samantha replied, talking about the finalization of her scholarship and having to call and turn down every other school but in reality Jessica had zoned out. Suddenly she was incredibly focused on Sam's lips. They were full and pouty, painted a deep shade of red and completely hypnotizing. Jessica couldn't look away, she had an incredible urge to lean over the table and...

"Hello?" Samantha asked, knocking on Jess' forehead like a door, "anyone home?"

Jess snapped out of her reverie, "Whoa, uh, I'm sorry! I... I don't normally space out like that, I'm terribly sorry!"

Sam laughed, "It's alright, the heat will do that to you, and it's not like what I have to say is exciting or anything."

"Don't say that," Jess said, "I'm really interested, I just don't know why I spaced..."

Before she could finish, a tinny version of "Personal Jesus" by Depeche Mode began to play. Jess scrambled for her cell phone, apologized again to Sam, and hit the 'Send' button.

"JESS, where the living fuck are you?" screamed her friend Tree, "We're at the Provincial Mall and we can't find you anywhere? Are you on your way? Don't tell me you're at Fox Run!"

Looking across the table at Samantha, and her lips, Jess simply told Tree she had the wrong number and hung up, turning her cell phone completely off.

"I'm sorry, you were saying?" she asked Sam as she took a bite of chicken.

******************************************************************************

The rest of the day seemed like a blur. The two went shopping, as neither group of friends ever showed up. Both Jessica and Samantha would surprise the other as they found more and more things in common that they enjoyed. At the other end of the mall, Jess pulled Sam inside of Suncoast video to see if they had another thing in common.

Stopping in front of a large section of DVDs, Jess stopped talking and simply started looking through titles. She pulled out a volume of Excel Saga and grabbed a box set of Ranma 1/2.

"Seems as good a time as any to test my new credit card," Jess joked, "See anything you like?"

Jess let the question hang, hoping that maybe they had another common interest. Samantha reached over and grabbed "Cat Soup".

"I heard this is supposed to be awesome, haven't seen it yet though. Have you?" she asked.

Jessica beamed, "No, but let's pick it up, we can watch it over at my place."

The two new friends checked out and walked back to their cars. Jessica led the way back to her place with her heart beating so fast she thought she had just run a marathon. Why was she so excited? Her mind flashed back to lunch at the food court and her face felt flush. She thought about what her infatuation really meant. She always knew things about herself but was always too scared to admit to them.

Why not make a stab at it, eh? Jess thought to herself, Today's a mulligan anyway...

***********************************************************************

"Wow," Samantha said, "Just... wow."

"Yeah," was all Jess could reply. She picked up the remote and pressed the off button. Minutes passed before either could say a word.

Sam found the courage to break the silence, "That was the most fucked up thing I have ever seen in my life."

Jess cracked up, "Yeah, and now you own the most fucked up thing you ever saw!" She got up and ejected the DVD and put it back into the case marked "Cat Soup".

"That's what I get for buying blind, I guess," Sam said.

They both laughed at the absurdity of the movie as Jess plopped back down on the couch. The levity was slowly overcome by nervousness inside of Jessica as she suddenly felt the urge again. She looked into Sam's eyes and glanced down at her red lips again and tried to hold herself back. She really wanted to do it though, it felt right...

"Uh oh, did I lose you again?" Sam joked, "Is there some sort of on-off switch I can use for these occasions or do I just have to wait it... mmmph!"

Sam didn't get the chance to finish as Jessica leaned over and kissed her. She had no clue if she could or would get another kiss, but she had to try. Even if Sam ended up pushing her back and freaking out, what would it matter? Today was a mulligan, right? All the worries in her mind melted away as Sam put her arms around her and held her as she kissed back.

Well, Jessica thought, maybe today's a mulligan for Sam too...

**************************************************************************

The digital alarm's red LED light cut through the darkness, reminding Jessica of how precious little time was left. She had always heard the phrase "Whirlwind romance" but never thought it meant your emotions felt like they went through a tornado. Samantha snuggled her head next to Jess', kissing her on the side of her neck. Each touch felt wonderful and at the same time dreadful. She didn't want this to stop, she didn't want to take the mulligan anymore. She wanted to stay and have more of this. But she couldn't, in a few short hours she'd be 'waking up' and putting all of her stuff in that moving van and heading off for Washington.

"I don't know how to say this," Jessica said, her voice cracking with sadness. Samantha picked up on the tone of her voice and sensed where it was going. She was no fool, she knew what time of year it was.

"Then don't say it," Sam said, "Just enjoy being here with me."

"I want to," Jess said, "But... I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't want to, I want to stay here and have another day, hell another year with us just laying here like this but..."

"I know. I know," Sam said. The two held on to each other tightly, trying to permanently imprint the feeling of each other into their respective memories. "We can still write each other, you know. And vacations, we'll both end up back here in Exeter."

"That's true," Jess thought. Still it didn't seem fair. All the 'what ifs' ran through her mind, they could have been together sooner than this. Sooner than the last day the could have together. Damn the mulligan.

They held each other in silence for a few more minutes before Sam spoke up again, "So... where are you heading off to anyway?"

"Washington State, I'm moving from a town where no one can pronounce the 'x' to a town that's sounds like a tongue twister," Jess tried to put more humor into her laugh than she felt, "It's a nice place though. Beautiful scenery, and the school is great for a literary degree. I always wanted to be a writer, and they gave me a small scholarship based on my grades and my writing."

Jess waited for the reaction she knew was coming. The shock that not only was she moving away, but all the way to Walla Walla, Washington. Way the hell away from her new love. She felt the way Sam tensed up when she said 'Washington'... but yet she was still silent. Was she trying to be brave for her sake, trying to downplay the sheer distance they'd have to endure?

"I've heard of that school. I hear they have a really good women's basketball team," Sam said, keeping her voice calm and smooth. She traced her finger up the side of Jessica's body, "I hear they're getting a new freshman guard. Highly touted and talented, that's what I hear anyway."

Jess looked down and could make out that pearl-white smile in the dark. Wait a minute, Jess thought, she doesn't mean... does she?

"Is she pretty too?" Jess asked, suddenly realizing what she meant.

"I don't know, I guess I should ask you that," Sam said as she tilted her head up and kissed Jessica. Suddenly, all the tension melted out of her body as Sam's lips touched hers.

No mulligan. Not today, not ever... she thought.


-A

If there's a hell, I'm going there for this one.

Josie is a brilliant, sexy, fun woman. I love to be around her, it's amazing she's not taken by anyone. I can't understand why anyone would shy away from her. I guess some less confident men wouldn't ask out a quadriplegic but I'm not one of those men.

I got the courage up on a wednesday and it worked out well. She smiled her beautiful pearl-white smile and we set a date for Saturday. I drove her van for access reasons and we went to the best restaurant on the New Hampshire seacoast. Seafood as a specialty (her favorite) but they also make a great rare steak. It was all very romantic, with me feeding her with my fork and, well, feeding me with my fork too. Still, it was a wonderful experience and I will never forget that dinner as I was the happiest I've ever been.

Now, one thing Josie would never explicitly talk about was how she became a quadriplegic. If you asked her if it happened a certain way she'd have no problem telling you that you had the wrong accident. But she would never let on how it happened, it was almost a game to her. Josie would come into the store I worked at often and I loved trying to guess but I never got it right. That night I'd find out, even though her beauty during dinner had made me completely forget about my curiosity.

As we went back to her place, she insisted that she could make it back into her house by herself. Now, without the use of her arms or legs, I couldn't see how she'd get inside. A rumble of thunder boomed overhead and I insisted that I help her inside. She frantically told me that her full time aide would bring her in but I could see no other vehicle in the driveway. I grabbed her keys from the side pocket in her chair and brought her up her front ramp. She stopped trying to fight my chivalry, I think she realized that there really wasn't a thing she could do about it, literally. I turned the key in the front door and brought her inside... and immediately saw why she didn't want me inside.


Her hallway was nice, a regular hallway in a regular house. Every other room however, not quite so normal. The living room looked like a bedroom made for a Queen, while the adjecant 'sitting room' was really something akin to a medieval dungeon. My curiosity went into overdrive as I checked each room trying to figure out what was going on, all with the sounds of Josie's protests and cries in the background. Each room was something out of a bad movie set, until I came to what could only be described as a library.

The "Library" I call it, but no books were to be found. VHS videos and DVDs, yes but no books. Each video had a distinct theme. One was called "Immobile Vixens in Heat" while another was titled "Bedridden Bukkake vol. 23". Quadraplegic porn, and she was the star actress in every one. Hundreds upon hundreds of dirty films with my date were staring me right in the face. Shock didn't even begin to describe my reaction. I could only take in what I saw and slowly walk out of her house. Closing the door behind me I think I heard her sobbing.

Josie can't look at me the same way anymore. She looks away whenever she sees me on the streets. I think she purposely has her aide wheel her to other stores to avoid seeing me. To be honest I don't think I could ever look at her the same way either. I mean, I've only made it to volume 12 so far...


-A

Top 'o the mornin'

"You should take up a relaxing hobby," said the Doctor, "I don't know, how would fishing take to you, Bill?"

Bill stared back, unsure of what to think. He was never really the outdoors type. Sure he'd gone camping back in Boy Scouts, and there were those frathouse campfires everyone went to. Still, fishing didn't sound like something that would help his ever increasing rage issues.

"Doc, I'm not really much of a hunter and steady hands are not something I was gifted with. I don't think fishing would really help matters," said Bill.

"Don't worry about actually catching fish," started the Doctor, "It's more of a meditation exercise. Just you, the rising sun, a six pack of beer and the lake. You'll never feel more at peace with yourself than when you're in your boat with your line in the water. Trust me."


Trust him Bill did.


As soon as Friday was upon him, Bill got all the supplies he needed. With the helpful advice of the pimply-faced "Associate", he got the best fishing gear money could buy at a Wal-Mart. The next morning he took his gear, some sandwiches, and a six of Pabst Blue Ribbon out to the middle of Lake Winnipesauke in a rented motor boat. The first niggling bit of rage occured as the State run boat rental store tried to convince him to pick up insurance for the boat.

"Insurance? I'm going fishing, son," Bill said.

"Yes, but it covers any scratches or minor damage that may come to the boat," the slightly nervous clerk said.

"Trust me, I'm a grown adult, no damage will come to your little dinghy," Bill said and left the shack with a huff. Even now, in the middle of a tranquil lake all alone he still felt rage towards the clerk.

"Let it go, Bill," he told himself, "You're just here to be calm and relax. Let's get some fish."

Bill cast his line into the water and set the handle between his feet. Working a minor balancing act, he managed to grab a sandwich from his cooler with one hand, a Pabst with the other, and open both one-handed with little effort. He had just taken a sip of the beer when the line started running like mad. Startled and excited at the same time, Bill dropped both food and drink and grabbed the pole immediately. He started reeling and pulling on the rod, still not quite sure what he was doing, in an effort to bring in whatever had bitten his bait.

"Damn, got a big one! Maybe the Doc wasn't so crazy with this idea after all!" exclaimed Bill.

Bill stood up in the boat unsteadily, trying to add extra leverage to his attack. He kicked the sandwich and open beer around with his feet, trying to gain a solid foothold but only succeeding in drenching himself and the boat in horrendous Milwaukee beer. Still, the struggle continued, with Bill slowly gaining ground and pulling the fish closer and closer to him. He could see that the line was almost all the way back to the spool so he took a guess and jerked upwards on the rod as hard as he could. A large shadow blocked the rising sun in front of him before the object at the end of the line landed at the end of the boat.

Bill laughed. He hadn't been this calm or had this much fun in years. Maybe he was finally turning the corner on his anger issues. He looked over to appraise his trophy but then recoiled in shock. Some thing was in his boat! It was fish-like but no fish Bill had ever seen looked like this. Two foot long with giant bulging eyes and flowing whiskers (or possibly tentacles?) and what Bill swore were teeth. This wasn't a trophy, he just brought on board a mutant creature of death! Panicing, Bill reached down in his sock for his Glock that he kept in case the terrorists went after him, pointed in the direction of the madly flopping fish, and shot...

...right square into the boat motor full of gasoline.


Luckily for the fish, it was in midair as the force of the small explosion rocketed the boat back in the direction of the shore, allowing it to drop harmlessly in the water, save for the hook in it's mouth. Unfortunately for Bill, the explosion ignited the pool of awful Milwaukee beer that covered both the boat and himself. He rolled around frantically trying to douse the flames when he realized that he was surrounded by water. He dove into the lake head-first, not realizing the boat had travelled to shallow water.


When Bill finally came to, he was in a neck brace and covered from the waist down in heavy bandages. His doctor circled the bed, shaking his head sadly.

"The boy from the rental shop witnessed everything, I still can't believe it myself," started the Doctor, "Why in the name of God's Green Earth would you bring a gun on a fishing trip? We were trying to help you prevent rage, not induce more!"

Bill couldn't feel the familiar anger at this, instead a sad hollow feeling took its place.

"The burns are only second degree, you got off lucky," the Doctor continued, "The boat suffered worse than you did... oh, which reminds me. The rental boy told me to give you this."

The Doctor handed a letter to Bill who opened it as the Doctor spoke with a nearby nurse about feeding the patients. Once opened the letter read as such:


Dear Sir,

Due to the damage recieved on the boat you rented and the lack of insurance claimed, we must ask for payments to replace the boat you destroyed on the morning of June 12th, 2004. With property and environmental damages caused, you now owe the state of New Hampshire $24,598. We expect the first of thirty six payments to be paid in seven days.

Thank you for enjoying the natural beauty and splendor of the lakes in New Hampshire.



Bill cried, then laughed, then did both for quite some time. If anything at all had come out of the adventure, it was this:

He wasn't angry anymore.



-A

The start of it all...

I work at a convenience store. Oh, sorry... VARIETY store. I must not confuse the two. Convenience stores rip people off, Variety stores are cozy country places for tourists and townies alike to congregate for gossip, politics, and mayonnaise. I work at the latter. We don't rip people off. Really.

Anyway, I'm your average run-of-the-mill register monkey. I have my robotic pattern of talking so that every customer can feel like they're getting personalized service. What's actually happening is that I'm thinking about how great a game show where the total elimination of the unintelligent was the grand prize. I'm not talking about the handicapped or anyone with actual disorders. I mean the true idiots. People wearing mullets in 2004, or perhaps that guy that walks around town toting a 1985-style boombox that's blasting Wilson Phillips. You know, those sort of folk.

It would be real simple to implement. Take your town idiot and tell him that he needs a partner for a super-hard trivia game show and that he's just the guy to put you over the top to win. HUGE prizes for the winners! You don't have to lie, just sort of sidestep the truth. They'll believe it, these are the true idiots of the world remember?

Now, you would have three pairs, smart and idiot, all duking it out in a trivia contest. The smart ones would be behind the usual gameshow style podium. The morons would be strapped to chairs with a sterilization solution at the ready. This solution, when injected, would cause the idiot to be totally incapable of producing offspring, effectively enhancing the gene pool a little at a time.


While the first half of the round would consist of right-or-wrong answers for the smart ones, the idiots would get a question with a little wiggle room. The one that gives the most inane answer would win points for their team.

At the end of the half hour, the winning team would get two prizes. The smart one would obtain a large cash prize and the adulation of millions for giving their teammate their prize - permanent sterilzation.

It has it all! Ratings, money galore, and true improvement to the human race.

These are the things I think of when I'm saying "I'm all right, how are you doing today?".

Think about that next time you go get a pack of smokes wearing ripped jeans and a mullet that would make Wesley Willis turn in his grave.

-A

teh test post

Just testing to see how it works