tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55795086511820814502024-02-20T01:24:31.284-08:00Reality CheckAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-70693367160006563342013-01-13T09:00:00.000-08:002013-01-13T09:00:49.933-08:00Bitter Premonition-The Conclusion<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> For all who have been following this story, thanks for reading! I have decided to include the story in the <i>Cooking Athanasia</i> book as the prologue (thanks for the idea R.N.). Last, a note for those who know some of my symbolism secrets: The name rule is not applied to any of Jenna's friends, they are all random picks. Please enjoy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~K</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenna
stood in the driveway for a long time just crying and staring at the tire marks</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> the Jeep </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">left
in the road. She hoped the gut feeling that had enveloped her stomach all
morning had been wrong. She didn't want the last memory of her friends to be
that of an argument where she tried, unsuccessfully, to discourage them from
going on a trip that was months in the making. Second guessing took over her
mind. <i>I should have done more, laid it
all on the line. Or I should have stood behind the Jeep and physically stopped
them from going.</i> Not knowing what else to do, she finally went back into
the house to figure out how to occupy her week. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Since
the time off for the trip had already been granted from The Perk, where she was
a barista, Jenna's manager had already filled the schedule and couldn't give
her any hours. That left only two options; stay home and sulk or go and help
out at Aunt Donna's bookstore. The latter seemed the better choice. Interacting
with other people would occupy her mind infinitely better than watching endless
hours of mindless television and allowing her thoughts to run free, inventing
multitudes of scenarios of what could go wrong for her three friends during the
trip. Although the four days at the bookstore passed quickly, the camping girls
were never far from Jenna's mind, but with each passing day allowed her to
relax a bit more. <i>Maybe the dream wasn't
about the camping trip at all, </i>the thought of which gave Jenna chills
because that meant The Dream foreshadowed a different event. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On
Thursday, Jenna left the bookstore in the early afternoon because it was a nice
day and she felt like cooking. She still had all the groceries meant for the
trip and hated to see them go to waste, so she headed home with a sweet and
spicy edamame-beef stir-fry recipe in mind. While she was cutting the yellow
bell peppers into strips for the mixture, her hands began tingling wildly.
Within seconds, the phone rang. Jenna immediately knew what the call was about.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Hello?"
she said reluctantly into the receiver.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mrs.
Dalton's weary voice was on the other end, "Jenna?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes?"<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This
is Jessica's mom," she paused to sob. "There's been an
accident..."<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Mrs.
Dalton, no..." Jenna didn't want to hear the rest, but she already knew.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"It
was a drunk driver. He hit the girls head-on while they were on their way
home," she struggled against the urge to cry. "None of them..."
Jessica's mom fell into sobs and couldn't finish the sentence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh
my God! I'm so sorry," Jenna fought to maintain control herself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I
just thought you should know..." She didn't wait for an answer before
hanging up the phone. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
held the receiver for a long time until the shrill <i>REET, REET, REET </i>reminded her the handset was out of its cradle.
She looked at the tear-blurred phone in her hand as if it was the first time
she had ever seen one. The shock numbed all of her senses and it sounded as if
the noise came from another room or even across the street. It didn't matter at
the moment because her friends were gone, not just gone, but also stolen from her.
She hung up the phone and the mental inquisition started. <i>Why the hell didn’t they listen? What good is The stupid Dream if it
can’t be used to help people, especially loved ones? Why them and not me? How
will I go on without them?<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
next few days passed slowly but in a blur. The weather turned to the typical
Northwest grey of spring, which seemed appropriate for the girls’ funerals and
perfectly matched Jenna's state of mind. One thing Jenna wondered, once she was
thinking clearly again, was why Jessica’s mother called her when she found out
about the accident; how she knew Jenna was not with the rest of her friends on
the camping trip. At the funeral, she asked Mrs. Dalton how she knew to call.
Mrs. Dalton told Jenna that Jessica called when they arrived at the campsite to
let her know they had made it safely. She told her mother that Jenna had
changed her mind and decided not to go. Jenna did not press the matter further,
but hoped that Jessica had not relayed how she tried to convince the others to cancel
the trip. Jenna didn't want Jessica's mother to have to live with that burden. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
rest of the school year was spent in a grey haze, similar to the drizzly
Seattle springtime, and Jenna simply went through the motions, surviving
day-to-day. She did what was necessary at school to make it to graduation. She
also worked as many hours at The Perk as her manager would allow, just to keep
her occupied. She helped out at the bookstore on her days off. All because she
didn’t want idle time to think about how unfair it was for some drunken idiot
to rob three girls of their existence, especially when they were only beginning
to blossom. The thought of the injustice made Jenna’s blood boil. Worse yet, he
was virtually unscathed from the accident. “Just a few scratches,” they said.
“He was very lucky,” they said. Jenna didn’t call it luck though, instead she
thought of it as a travesty of the natural order. She did her best to keep it
pushed to the back of her mind so she could merely function. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Time
passed and graduation day came. Emma, Nicole, and, Jessica were the only
students from the graduating class who died. their smiling pictures were shown
and favorite music played in tribute at the ceremony, which served only to tear
the scab from Jenna’s heart that had only recently begun to form, and she was
painfully reminded how empty she felt without them. Around graduation time,
Christopher Stark was standing trial for driving under the influence and three
counts of vehicular homicide. Although Jenna knew she couldn’t handle being
present in the actual courtroom, she did pay close attention to news coverage
of the trial. The image of the three girls' parents’ reaction in the courtroom
would be forever burned into Jenna’s mind,</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
when the judge announced the sentence of five years probation for the crimes</span></span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">.
As it turned out, one of Stark's relatives was a detective or something and
pulled some strings to get his sentence lightened. <i>This is not right! </i>she thought. <i>How
can he walk free when my friends never had the chance to plead their case; to
tell a jury why they should be allowed to live? </i>Jenna was repulsed and
thought it unacceptable. A sickening knot of rage grew in her stomach. She
silently vowed that someday; somehow, the deaths of Emma Waters, Nicole Starr,
and Jessica Dalton would be avenged.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-722207460729324782013-01-06T10:31:00.001-08:002013-01-06T17:29:05.235-08:00Bitter Premonition-Part Three <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna made a decision about the trip in this installment of Bitter Premonition, a decision with dire consequences. Remember, this is a bonus chapter from my forthcoming book, Cooking Athanasia. To those who are following the story, thanks for the read. A special thanks for those of you who are helping me, in my quest of shameless self-promotion, for sharing within your circles.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">~K</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span><br />
</span><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The
closer the girls got to Jenna's house, the more intense the tingling in her
hands grew. By the time the Jeep reached the driveway, Jenna felt as if her
hands were physically buzzing. It was at that moment that she decided to go
with the gut feeling that had been building in stomach all morning; she had to convince
the others to cancel the trip. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jessica
turned off the ignition. "Where's your stuff?" </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
stammered, "Um...uhh...we have to...umm...a change of plans."
Regardless of their friendship, she hadn't the foggiest idea how she should
phrase her plea so she didn't come off like a crackpot.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What?"
Nicole asked. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"We
can't go." Jenna thought it best to just get it out there.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nicole
repeated her question, "What?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yeah,
what are you talking about?" Jessica added.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Something
bad is going to happen. I can feel it. We should do something else," Jenna
pleaded.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Emma put down her book and joined the
conversation. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Something bad? What makes you say that?" </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What
do you think is going to happen? And how is it that you think you know
this?" Nicole said.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Jenna
had never revealed </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Dream
and its significance </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">to her friends. She also thought this
was a terrible time to tell them. It was hard for her to think though because
her hands felt like they were plugged into an electrical socket. She had to do
something and do it now. "I had a dream, a err...a special dream. I have
this same dream any time something big is about to happen in my life. It has
never been wrong."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"A
dream? A freakin’ dream? Like a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Final
Destination</i> dream? You know that is only a movie right?" Jessica was
skeptical. "It was only a dream girly, go get your stuff."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"What's
really going on Jenna?" Emma asked. "You wanted this break as much as
the rest of us and now you're changing your mind?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I
really don’t think we should go,” Jenna was committed now. “Look, you can be
mad at me or hate me or think I’m a creep,” she was sure her shuddering hands
were audible by now, “but I know something terrible will happen if we go on the
trip.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tears rolled down her cheeks,
“Please don’t go. I’m not going.” The instant she announced her decision, the
hand tremors ceased. She stood in the driveway looking at her friends, who were
all looking back at her incredulously.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jessica broke the silence. "This
is crap. Don't go then Jenna. We will tell you all about it when we get back
and nothing happens to us," she punctuated the statement with waving her
hands over her head, and then turned to the other two, "Let's get out of
here."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emma, forever the glue of the group,
said, "Hold on Jessica. Maybe we should talk about this and figure out
what's going on."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jessica replied, "Stay and talk if
you want. I'm going camping." She got in the Jeep.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nicole looked worried, as if she
half-believed the premonition. Jenna caught her eyes and mouthed, "Don't
go," to which Nicole replied with a shrug, as if she had no choice. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Emma was sympathetic, but yielded to
the group’s unofficial leader, "Sorry Jenna," she said and ran for
the Jeep.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jessica started the Jeep and backed out
of the driveway. She stopped in the road and turned to Jenna, "Last
chance." </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna only shook her head no and
emitted a feeble, "Please..."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jessica responded by dumping the clutch and speeding off. They left Jenna sobbing in the driveway, wishing she had been able to stop them, and dreading the next few days when whatever was going to happen happened.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span> </div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> </span><br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-7076138577519072712012-12-30T10:36:00.000-08:002012-12-30T10:36:23.510-08:00Bitter Premonition-Part Two <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is the second part of the <em>Bitter Premonition </em>story, where we left Jenna in the midst of a dream (The Dream). Recall that the story is an offshoot from the <em>Cooking Athenasia</em> novel I am currently working on. I hope to be finished with the book by February (I think this statement is more for me than you). I thank you for reading and I especially thank those of you who feel the story is good enough to re-post the link for your FB friends. Enjoy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">~Slayer</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
Dream was always the same. She always saw the woman, who was her at the same
time, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">frantically</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">packing</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.
She watched the woman load and mount the horse-drawn wagon. Although she was
always terrified in The Dream, the people who wanted to hurt her never reached
the woman. Sometimes Jenna woke before seeing the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">burning </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">house, but The
Dream never went beyond the woman turning to see the night sky aglow from the
fire of her home in the distance after her decampment. Some might consider The
Dream a recurring nightmare, but it did not occur frequently enough to earn the
clinical title of 'recurring'. However, what The Dream did do is always
foreshadow a significant event in Jenna's life. The first time she remembered
having The Dream was at three years old, a few days before her mother died.
Since then, Jenna dreamt it a few other times preceding influential occurrences
in her life, but The Dream never delineated between positive or negative
experiences, it simply meant that something important would happen soon. Over
time, Jenna learned to keep her guard up once The Dream reappeared.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She
sat up in bed. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Crap! </i>she thought.
Through the window, she could see the sun hinting its ascent from behind the
horizon with the promise of a perfect Northwestern spring day. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This can't be. I've been looking forward to
this trip for weeks.</i> Although The Dream was not specific regarding the
event, Jenna's initial gut feeling was that the danger was associated with the
camping trip. This assumption raised several questions though: Was she the only
one in peril or did it extend to the group? Did the danger lie in cancelling
her plans or could the hazard be avoided by going on the trip? What about Aunt
Donna? Would she be all right without Jenna staying home? These were exactly
the type of questions she hated after The Dream occurred. The Dream was a major
contributing factor to the reason she felt square-peggish, and often felt it
would be better not knowing something was on the horizon, like real people.
Instead, she was given a gift in the form of a clue that something important
was imminent but with no context. With little context anyway, since she always
received a tingling feeling in her hands when the crossroad introduced by The
Dream was reached. Yet, the tingling still did not give any indication of the
best course of action to take or whether she should do anything at all, they
just felt prickly announcing the situation was at hand.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
donned her robe and walked down the hall to Aunt Donna's room. She gently
rapped on the door, "Aunt Donna, I have a problem." No response. A
little louder, "Aunt Donna?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna
was not a morning person and, after a few unflattering snorts, sleepily
replied, "Wha...?"</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I
have a problem," Jenna bit her bottom lip, which she did when she was
unsure of herself. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Yes
Dear. What is it?" </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I...I
had The Dream last night."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Oh
no." Donna was not a big fan of The Dream either because of its ambiguity.
"So what are you thinking?" Donna was fully awake.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I
don't know." Jenna was almost in tears. "I hate The Dream. It's
impossible to worry about everything, to guess what it could possibly
mean," frustrated tears rolled down her cheeks.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Donna
pulled her in for a hug and tried to give comfort, "I know. It seems
impossible."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"The
worst of it is that I always worry it could mean I might lose someone I love,
like with mom." She cried in earnest.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I
know," she stroked Jenna's hair, "It's frustrating. Let's go make
some coffee and think this through." Donna had to get all the neurons
firing if she was going to be any help.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A
couple of cups of coffee later, they sat at the kitchen table trying to figure
out what to do. Jenna was torn between going on the camping trip to protect her
friends at the outing or staying home to protect Donna. Another option was to
scrub the trip altogether if she could get the other girls to agree. She tried
to think of a way to tell the others they should cancel without sounding
freakish or paranoid. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
sun had fully risen revealing a bright blue, cloudless spring sky, a </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Northwest </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">rarity,
meaning Jenna only had about two hours before the girls would arrive to pick
her up. Donna tried to get her to eat some toast but she was not hungry. A
sickening knot had settled in the pit of Jenna’s stomach as she went through
the motions of preparing for the day. She cried out of frustration in the
shower because she had no idea what she should do, but a decision had to be
made soon. She got dressed and still hadn't decided what she would do, if
anything.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna
was in a somber mood as sat on the front porch waiting for the girls to show
up. The sun felt good on her face but did little for her churning stomach. After
a bit, she could hear the rumble of Jessica's Jeep and she watched it turn the
corner onto her block. As soon is it was in full sight, the tingling in her
hands began.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-19209292554263710712012-12-22T17:34:00.001-08:002013-01-08T10:46:11.726-08:00Bitter Premonition-Part One <span style="font-family: Arial;">This story introduces Jenna Sims, the main character from my forthcoming novel, <i>Cooking Athanasia</i>. It is a snapshot of an event that occurred in her recent past, but shaped the person who she eventually becomes. Additionally, one of the things that makes her feel different from everybody else is revealed. Feel free to share this story. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">~Slayer</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">BITTER PREMONITION<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This was it. Spring break of Jenna Sims' senior year was just around the corner, and she didn't intend to waste it. After all, this would be one of the last bits of freedom she would be able to enjoy before life's responsibilities-like college, work, a boyfriend/husband, etcetera-came rushing full force on the heels of high school. As of late, thoughts of the future weighed heavily on Jenna's mind and she looked forward to a reprieve in the form of a spring break camping trip with her best friends: Emma Waters, Nicole Starr, and Jessica Dalton.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jenna felt like a square-peg in a round-hole world throughout most of her school years, which made it difficult to bond with anyone, but this unlikely set of friends accepted her as-is, with no questions asked. To outsiders, rather than looking like a tightly knit caste of friends, the four resembled more of a random group of misfits who banded together against the ills of the world. Emma always had her nose in a book and preferred the fantasy genre that described adventures of fairies, dragons, and the likes. The artist, Nicole, saw things as they were and tended to draw her world with charcoal in black and white. Jessica, the motor-head, loved anything with wheels and an engine, which meant she could usually be found in or under her Jeep, or carving trails on her dirt bike. Jenna completed the quartet and loved experimenting with culinary inventions in the kitchen. Although each of their individual interests seemed vastly different from the others', their diverse personalities meshed perfectly creating harmony and formed an inseparable bond between the four of them.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each girl looked forward to the camping trip with anticipation and talked about it incessantly for weeks prior to the break. All four members of the group agreed three days at Lake Easton campground, which was just on the other side of the pass, would be the respite needed to regroup before the end-of-year push. Although the plan was for each to provide a meal or two during the outing, Jenna volunteered to do a lion's share of the cooking. The thought of testing her culinary skills in a primitive setting excited her and she had ideas of things with which she would like to experiment. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At last, finals were over and teacher conferences were done, marking the start of spring break. The quartet planned to leave bright and early at 10:00 am Monday, well, bright and early in high school girl-think. They took the weekend to prepare by gathering and packing equipment, and shopping for provisions and sustenance items they would need during the trip. Jenna spent the better part of Saturday afternoon at the supermarket squeezing tomatoes, sniffing melons, and examining the wide selection of cheeses to find the right compliment for her planned menu items. She returned home with five overstuffed grocery bags and began the process of separating the various items into piles for each of the intended menu dishes to ensure nothing had been forgotten.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sunday morning, Jenna searched the garage for elusive camping equipment, none of which was where she thought is should be. She was thankful that Aunt Donna took the day off because she needed help finding all the gear, and she swore it would be stored in one location upon the completion of the trip. Aunt Donna raised Jenna since the age of three after the death of her own mother, Diana, Donna's sister. Donna didn't mind providing help because she enjoyed the time with Jenna and knew it would not be long until she was ready to spread her wings and fly from the nest. Finally, with a little perspiration and a lot of dust, all the gear was located and packed. Jenna finished preparations by putting the food into a plastic bin for ease of transport. She called the other girls to make sure they had everything they would need, and cautioned them to pack for sunburn-hot and blizzard conditions because the unpredictable Northwest spring can produce either, sometimes in the same day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With all the readying done, Jenna was tired but excited by the end of the day. After a particularly grueling yawning session, she told Emma she had to get some rest and hung up the phone. She quickly did her nighttime routine and jumped in bed. Although exhausted, Jenna had a hard time falling asleep due to the multitude of lists she mentally checked and double-checked to ensure she had not forgotten anything for the trip. Slumber finally found her around 2:00 in the morning and shortly thereafter, The Dream began. In The Dream, Jenna could see a woman, yet Jenna was the woman at the same time. She scurried around the house gathering things of importance. Garbed in mid-nineteenth century clothes, the woman was frantic about an impending danger. She had to pack quickly because they were coming. Jenna didn't know who they were, but was sure they wanted to hurt her. Jenna twitched in her sleep while the Dream played out. Hasty packing complete, the woman fled from harm's way on a wagon drawn by two horses. Jenna bolted awake just after the woman turned to see her house ablaze in the distance as she made her escape.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-78803147779920383272012-12-16T11:57:00.000-08:002013-01-29T02:54:45.584-08:00Introduction to Immortality<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> My apologies for not posting last week. I am out of short stories and have been working on finishing my novel. My intent moving forward, is to write some bonus chapters from the novel as stand-alone short stories. These stories will introduce to the characters and hopefully give you a tase of what the book is about. The title is <em>Cooking Athenasia</em> and a short decription is below. I hope to have the first bonus chapter, <em>Bitter Premonition</em>, finished for next Sunday's post. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<div align="center">
</div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">COOKING ATHANASIA</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> Jenna Sims is a culinary student with a secret. While perfecting a homework recipe, she consults an old worn book that belonged to her great-great grandmother, and unwittingly cooks up a spell for immortality. Jenna's secret, unbeknownst to her, is that her ancestry belongs to a coven of witches. A down-on-his-luck cosmetics company marketing representative finds out about the spell and sets out to steal the book for its recipe, which he thinks would be a hit for the company and allow a reversal of fortune for himself. A period of self-discovery and a short learning curve is unleashed as Jenna strives to protect the family secrets and keep evil from stealing the spell book containing enough power to change the world.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Thanks for reading,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">~Slayer</span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-88970910281081073832012-12-02T10:48:00.001-08:002012-12-02T10:48:45.996-08:00GREED-The Conclusion Here is the conclusion to Greed. I recently added the last two paragraphs to add clarity to the story, but it still leaves it up to the reader to decide what really happened. I appriciate you taking the time to read my story and please let me know your thoughts.<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> I use the time
to assess the situation. Extreme pain in my face where it hit me and my
shoulders burn form my hands being bound for so long. I think my right eye is
almost swollen shut, but it is hard to tell in the absence of light. I am naked
except for a pair of jean shorts that are soaked in sweat and blood. I cannot
move. The thing told me I owe it something. It wants what I started with. What
did I start with? It said it was with me when I was a child, when all I wanted
was life. Could that be what I started with? It seems to be able to read my
mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
desperately try to remember how I got here. What was I doing before I got here?
I think I worked. Maybe I had a job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was my job? Do I have a family? I cannot remember any of these
questions. The pain stabs at my brain like thousands of daggers piercing it
from all directions. I did work! I helped others accomplish more. My thoughts
are clearing a bit. I took a job to help others but it didn't work out. Leaders
were not satisfied with results. They wanted more. They didn't care how, they
only cared that I got results. Their philosophy went against my grain. But I
took the job for better pay. How did I get here? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What
about my family? They need me. I have a wife and a small child. They need me
for my support. For my love. Surely it would understand that there are people
who need me and whom I need. Where was I before this room? Why is it attacking?
I don't remember being a child, but I know I wanted things. I'm sure these
wants became more complex as I grew. I lick my dry lips and taste blood. Wants
and needs extended beyond myself and beyond the immediate. What is my debt? I
pay my debts. My thoughts start to cloud again and worse, I hear it shuffling
down the dark hallway from where it disappeared earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It enters the room and returns to it’s corner.
The breath is heavy and yellow eyes stare at me. “Do you understand now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t remember anything besides here.” My voice is scratchy from thirst. “I
know I was a child, but I don't remember being a child. I know I have a
family.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Spare
me the incessant babbling.” It is irritated again. “The only thing you need to
understand is your debt. Once you understand I can collect.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
don’t know how I can understand if I can’t remember anything about my life.”
It’s stare burns into my skin like a red-hot branding iron, just removed from
the fire. “What is my debt? What do I owe?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
will have to show you,” it says begrudgingly as it moves toward me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It raises it’s craggily hands and I brace for
another impact. Instead of striking me however, it places it’s hands on either
side of my head. They are cold and lifeless, with a rough surface, reminiscent
of dried leather gloves that were extremely wet once. “Listen,” it commands.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately, a vision begins to form in my
mind. I can see! I am very young and I am talking to my parents. “What is this?”
I am mesmerized.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Quiet!
Just listen.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can see my parents and I having a
discussion. We are talking about a toy. I must be five years old in the vision.
The toy is a truck that I wanted for my birthday. I remember it. I did not get
it as a present for my birthday and five year old me is clearly upset. I
remember I wanted that truck so badly that I didn’t appreciate any of the other
things people gave me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
remember, don't you?” it asks. “This is one of the first times.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I do remember.” I feel bad for the parents of
five year old me because I gave them no mercy. That vision dissipated and was
immediately replaced with a new one. In the new vision, I am at school, high
school, and I seem to be very sullen with my best friend. I was actually angry
with him because he got a car when he got his driver’s license and my parents
had assured me that I was not going be so fortunate. I was very angry with them
as well because I felt that I deserved a car too. I was 16 at the time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It spoke to me through my mind, “The wants
were becoming more complex, yes?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Somehow,
I answered it without speaking, “Yes.” I felt bad for my friend because I was
jealous of his good fortune and I wanted the same. It strained our friendship
for a bit, but we recovered. Again, the vision dissolved to be replaced with
another. This one is more recent. I am having a conversation with my boss. The
conversation is about performance. I recall that I was shocked because the
senior leaders seemed more concerned with making money rather than quality
service. Their mind set was ends over means, but I took the position with the
understanding that I represent quality service. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is yet more complex, yes?” the thing
says in my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, but it was not me that wanted more,” I
silently defend. It releases my head and the vision shatters like a mirror on
concrete.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It retreats to it’s corner. “Was it only the
others who wanted more?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes. I was concerned for my constituents,” I
reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
is not in question,” it says, “but taking that role involved a significant
compensatory increase, yes?” I can’t be sure, but it almost looks like it is
smiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“True,” I defend, “but that was not my only
motivation for taking the position.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“But it was a motivation?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes,” I concede.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“These are some of the complexities of which I
speak.” It paces, as a teacher would in front of a student. “Now you understand
the debt. You admit you have wanted in the past for personal gain, yes?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Would
you agree that you have wanted from the beginning?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
suppose. What did I want when I was an infant?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
said it yourself: Life,” it replies. “Now that you understand, I can collect.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
can see the reflection from the blade again as it moves toward me. “I don’t
understand,” I plead. “Why do I have to pay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
am finished talking. It is time to collect.” It moves behind me and I feel the
sharpness of the blade against my neck. With a rapid movement, my throat is
slit. The last thing I feel, before being completely consumed, is hot blood
flowing down my chest...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
wipes the blade clean and takes a quick survey of it’s handy work. It leaves
the room, and my remains, satisfied for the moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wake up screaming. The room is
dark and I try to get my bearings. I search for it in the darkest corners of
the room, for it must still be here. I sit up and realize that I am not bound.
I am covered in a thick film, which I determine is perspiration rather than
blood. It was a dream. But it felt so real. The pain was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">real. </i>I shake the sleep from<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>my mind as I struggle for an explanation. What was It? Where did It come
from? What did It mean when It said that I desired personal gain in the past? I
mop the sweat from my forehead with my palm and reach for the water glass on
the nightstand. I muse that I have always wanted to help people. I do what I do
for the betterment of others. This desire seemed of little consequence to the
beast in my nightmare. It said that I have wanted from the beginning. It
implied the constant was want, but the complexites of the desire matured with
age. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the cobwebs of slumber gone,
I am finally back in the moment, I smile and shrug, it was simply a vivid
incubus with no impact on real life. I look at the clock and it is already
5:30. Time to get ready for the meeting with my boss. I do not favorably
anticipate the meeting because it will be more of the same questions of why
hasn't the business increased in my territory, and descriptions of the importance
of revenue to the organization. They are not concerned with the affected
individuals as long as they sign the dotted line. With this feeling of dread, I
make my way to the bathroom sink and start lathering my face with shaving
cream. What is that? I look closer in the mirror. Where did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that </i>come from? I wipe my face with a
towell so I can get a better look. On my neck, there is the faintest scar that
stretches from ear to ear. I shake my head as this cannot be, but it is in this
moment that I realize-that I know-I have been consumed by Greed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-29005232476188326292012-11-25T12:27:00.003-08:002012-11-25T12:27:32.890-08:00GREED-Part One Hello all. This is another story I wrote last year and it is vastly different than the innocence of Sublimity. I know some of you have already read GREED, but I added two more paragraphs to the end of the story that help tie it together better. Please let me know what you think! Part two next week.<br />
<br />
Thanks,<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">GREED<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The room is dark. I can see only the
yellow of it’s reptile-like eyes as it stares at me from the corner of the
room. I am wearing only a pair of shorts, which is good because the room is
stifling hot. “What do you want?” I yell. I can hear it breathe. It is a heavy,
labored sound.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">“I think you know,” it answers in a gravelly voice.
“I want what you started with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">I
realize my hands are bound behind me and my ankles are tied to the legs of the
hard wooden chair. I can barely move. It walks behind me so I can no longer see
it’s outline. “I don't have anything left.” I try to remember how I got here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It grunts and I can feel it’s breath
on the back of my neck. “You are trying to remember how it started. What
brought us together.” It returns to it’s corner and I can see the slits of it’s
eyes again. “Why you need me to finish this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I don’t need you,” I give in
half-hearted response. I continue trying to process information. My wrists hurt
and I can’t feel my hands because the circulation is cut off. “Who are you, and
what do you want with me? What do I need to finish?” It seems both familiar and
foreign to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You know the answers to both of
those questions,” it appears to be enjoying the verbal parry. “My question of
you is whether you are going to give me what you owe, or if you are going to
make me take it from you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Sweat rolls down my face and stings
my eyes as I try to focus on it's details in the corner. In the shadows, I can
barely make out it's charcoal-colored face, which is ridden with scars from
numerous past encounters. “When have we met?” I ask in effort to identify it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You have known me your whole life,”
it explains as it takes a step toward me, eyes burrowing deep into mine. “I
have taken many forms.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My shoulders burn from being bound, “Please
loosen the rope around my wrists,” I ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“In due time. I think first we
should discuss an agreement.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Agreement about what?” The pain is
excruciating.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Payment,” it snorts. “I want what
you started with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“What did I start with?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Quit with the diversions! You know
what I want, what you owe! I am here to collect!” it bellows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It rushes at me. I can see reflection
from the dagger in it’s hand. I turn my head in effort to avoid the blow. It
makes contact on the right side of my face with its fist. “I don’t know what I
started with.” I can feel it’s acrid breath on my face as it stares at me. “No
matter how much you beat me, I won’t know what I started with.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It goes back to its corner. “This
may take longer that I thought. I was with you at the beginning. Your wants
were different then.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“At the beginning of what?” I taste
blood at the corner of my mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“The debt cannot be paid if you do
not understand.” It sounds agitated. “Perhaps I should loosen your bindings?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That would help.” It rushes.
Another fist to the right side. Blood flows freely from my nose. It mixes with
sweat on my chest. “Stop!” I yell.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">It
stares at me from inches away. I can see some of the definition of the deep
gouges that traverse it’s face. “Are we finished with the games? Are you ready
to discuss an agreement?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Perhaps
a different tactic would give me a clue, “When was the beginning?” I spit
blood. “What were my wants then?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
grunts. “The beginning was the beginning. Your wants were simple.” Once again,
it retreats to it’s corner. “Do you understand now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Tell
me more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
did not understand all the complexities at the beginning.” It’s voice softens.
“You simply wanted life.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“At
the beginning?” I believe I am starting to understand. “When I was a child?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes.”
It sounds relieved that it is finally getting through to me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“And
then what happened? How are we connected?” I try to use a soothing voice
despite the burning pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
started to realize there was more.” It sounds as if it is resolved to tell the
story. “Life itself was no longer enough. I knew you then, and you knew me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“How
did I know you? Where did we meet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
and I are the same. We have known each other from the point where desire
deviated from instinct.” It is playing with the dagger. I can see flashes of
reflection as the blade catches what little light there is in the room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
don’t I remember you?” Maybe it looked different when I was younger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
snorts, “Of course I looked different then. So did you.” It sounds agitated
again. “Do you understand now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
thought for a moment, trying to put the puzzle pieces together. It is difficult
to think beyond the pain. I am trying to recall what wants I had when I was a
child. It rolls it's eyes. “I wanted life when I was a baby, right?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Correct!”
It stops fidgeting. “Then you progressed beyond only basic survival. You began
to want things. I was with you at the beginning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“My
parents gave me things,” I tried to understand. More drops of blood to my
chest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Correct!
But you were not satisfied.” It stares at me from the corner. “You always
wanted more. People always want more. They want more for themselves and they
want more from each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
are other people’s wants my concern?” I try to make the connection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“They
are part of you. They are part of me.” It plays with the knife again. “We both
have an interest in others’ desires. Maybe you need some time to figure it
out.” It leaves the room through a doorway I had not noticed before.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-30598736263208507062012-11-18T14:22:00.000-08:002012-11-18T14:22:10.708-08:00Sublimity-Part Three: The Finale Here is the the third and final installment for the Sublimity story. I thank you for reading it and I hope it was enjoyable. Please let me know your thoughts and, as always, do not be afraid of the the follow button; it is your friend.<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"> At last, there
was the site. They pulled in and started unloading gear. The site selected was
in the middle of a pine tree clearing. The site had two tables set up in a
loose L-shape, split by a barbecue grill set on a pedestal. Fifty yards to
their front, through a gap in the trees, they could see a small creek lazily
meandering through the park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could
faintly hear the soothing sound of running water. "This is a nice site
Grandpa," Thomas gave him an approving smile.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"I
like it too Thomas." Grandpa was stacking the last few pieces of wood he
brought for a fire later that evening. "Is there anything left in the
car?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>"Nope,"
Thomas called from the car. "That looks like all of it." They spent
the rest of the morning organizing and getting ready for the rest of the family
to arrive. They finished early, which left some time for the two to explore a
little ways down the creek. Thomas was amazed by the clear water, allowing him
to see salamander and small fish going about their business in the creek.
Before long, the morning cool had burned off giving way to late-spring warmth
and soon Thomas heard cars making their way up the short dirt road that
accessed the site.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thomas’ mom, Grandma, Ally, and
Molly were in one car. The other held Aunt Alice, Uncle Sean, and Dad along
with the rest of the food. Once all were reunited, the kids moved toward the
creek to start exploring. “Stay in sight of the picnic area,” Thomas' mom
yelled in a serious tone. Aunt Alice seconded the comment and with that, the
brood slipped into their own kids' world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>They walked up and down the creek.
“Look at these!” Ally squealed, pointing to a group of salamander. She splashed
in the water and they darted off in all directions to her amusement. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I know! There’s a bunch of stuff in
here,” Thomas replied. “Grandpa and me looked around for a while before you all
got here.” He jumped over the creek where it narrowed going into a slight
corner. “Woo Hoo! Made it!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Grandpa and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> I</i>,” Ally corrected. She was two years older than Thomas was and
did much better in school. She enjoyed showcasing her intellect on occasion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Ralph let out a snort and tried to
jump the creek too, but at a wider point, and he did not make it. He shorted
the landing by about eight inches and fell backwards with a splash. “Dang it! I
missed!” He started giggling, which got everyone giggling. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Before
it was all said and done, the four of them were wet over a good percentage of
their bodies. It was cold at first, but they dried off quickly in the late
spring warmth. By the time they were dry, they had already moved on to a new
activity. They had paired up for war: Thomas and Ralph versus Ally and Molly.
The boys' and the girls' squad each established a base in the tree cover on
opposite sides of the picnic site. The boys were the first to attack. "I
can see them between those two trees," Ralph pointed and whispered from a
crouch position.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
nodded and moved silently toward the girls’ position using trees as cover.
"I will go in from the left and you go from the front to distract
them."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"Okay."
They were both low to the ground and whispering their plan. They maneuvered toward
the girls’ position until they were about 50 meters away, then all hell broke
loose. On signal, the boys separated and Ralph ran up the middle screaming like
a banshee. Thomas kept a bit more quiet and came in from the side. He didn't
let out his blood curdling scream until he was right on top of the girls' HQ. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"No
fair!" Ally cried foul. "We weren't ready yet. You said we had half
an hour to prep our base." She scowled at Thomas.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"It
has been half an hour." Thomas wondered why girls always took so long to
'prepare' things.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"No
it hasn't," Molly replied, entering the fray.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ralph
tried to keep the peace, "Okay, we’ll reset and look at our watches this
time. It's 3:30 right now so the next attack can't start until 4:00."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
attacks went off according to the new schedule published by Ralph and they
lasted until Grandpa rang the dinner bell at 6:00. The kids had eaten
sandwiches with dirty hands while they were on the run at around noon, so they
were famished. They agreed to a peace treaty so they could eat the hamburgers
and hot dogs Grandpa had grilled. Thomas was so busy playing that he hadn't
noticed the smell of the barbecue, but was acutely aware of it now, which got
his mouth watering. They washed up, and sat down for a delicious picnic dinner.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">After
dinner, Grandpa built a fire and everyone pulled up a seat to bask in its
warmth while digesting the big meal. All the kids were there too, full and
tired from the day of nonstop play. Thomas sat and looked at every one's faces
dancing in the glow of the fire. He contemplated how good it was to be out of
school, and in the company of those who accepted him for who he was. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
gallons of soda worked their magic on Thomas and he got up to heed the call of
nature. "I'll be right back," he told Mom and started toward the edge
of the picnic site for some privacy. Thomas looked back at the fire from a
cluster of pines and could hardly see the group. "This'll do," he
said quietly to himself, and took care of business. When he finished, he looked
up at the stars and pondered the view, which was much better than viewing the
night sky from the city. That was when he saw it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">He
watched as the object approached from the far horizon, moving silently toward
him in the night sky. It was a large, maybe three or four football fields
across, dark brown disc that was slowly rotating as it executed its trajectory
toward Thomas. The craft was not overtly illuminated, but had an ambient glow
around its edge as if it was lit up on its top, producing a soft ring of light
around it’s circumference. The object was almost overhead and Thomas could not
believe what he was seeing. It steadily continued on its flight path, which was
a large arc that went directly overhead, never veering from course or altering
speed. Thomas watched, amazed by its size and the lack of sound from the craft
as it flew. He searched his vast eight-year old data bank to try and identify
the craft but came up with nothing. The object did not scare him though,
rather, he was curious as to what it was, and was taken aback by its beauty as
it grew smaller and was eventually swallowed by the darkness of the night sky
on the opposite horizon. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
stood there for a few moments, gathering his thoughts, before he ran back to
the group by the fire. "Did you see that?!" Thomas asked excitedly.
No one by the fire looked very excited. "Did you see that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i>?" he was quickly getting
agitated. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"What
thing tard?" Ally took the opportunity to attack.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"THE
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THING </i>IN THE SKY!!!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mom
chimed in, "What are you talking about honey?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"The
giant thing that just flew overhead," Thomas was beginning to suspect
they, in fact, had not seen it. "It was a big, brownish, flying...<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i>!"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Dad
picked up the ball. "Calm down Thomas. Tell us what you saw," he used
his 'you'd better relax' voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"A
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i>," Thomas was still keyed
up. "It flew across the sky. It was big. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">None </i>of you saw it?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
was known as somewhat of a joker and, to the rest of the family, this seemed
like just the sort of story he could cook up as a gag. "None of us saw it
tard," Ally continued the attack on her brother. "Because there was
nothing to see." He and Ally got along most of the time, but each had
their own mean streak, which reared its ugly head occasionally.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
ignored her. "Ralph?" he pleaded, "You honestly didn't see
it?" </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"I
don't know what you are talking about," Ralph was trying to stay out of
the line of fire. "I thought you just went over there to pee."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"I
did!" Thomas was yelling again. "The <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing </i>flew overhead after I was done. It went from there to there,"
he pointed and made a long arc with his arm. "Come on! I'll show you where
I was standing!" He started walking back toward the trees but no one
followed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Mom
tried to calm him down, "I'm sure you saw a plane or something," she
patronized, "but I don't think anyone else saw it."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
took a step back, trying to process. It had seemed like a big deal to him and
he hadn't the foggiest idea how they could have missed it. Maybe the light from
the fire drowned it out, after all, it wasn't very bright and it didn't make a
sound. Maybe they were engrossed in their own conversations and just did not
notice. It <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did </i>happen though, of this
Thomas was sure. He throttled back the emotion, "I did see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">something</i>."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Ally
was relentless, "Sure you did tard. We believe you." She pointed
toward her head and made a circular motion with her finger. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"Shut
up Ally!" Thomas knew he wasn't going to win this battle but he wasn't
about to simply surrender.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">"That's
enough! Both of you!" Dad put his foot down. "I think you are both tired
and it is time to start packing up." He got up to get things ready to go
and the rest of the family followed suit. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Thomas
brooded while he helped and eventually they were all ready to go home. He took
another look skyward in hopes of seeing the craft again to prove his sanity. No
such luck though, and he got in the car to head for Grandma and Grandpa's
house. Another family picnic down, and this was one for the books, he thought
during the drive. He <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">knew </i>what he had
seen, he just could not prove it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 200%; margin: 1em 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The
experience faded into the background the following week as he started enjoying his
summer freedom. He played with his sister and cousins until Uncle Sean’s family
left. Back at home, Abraham was visiting his cousins for the week so Thomas was
left to his own devices. On the next Saturday, one week after the sighting, Thomas
was playing quietly in his room while reflecting on what he witnessed in the
Santa Fe' Forest. Thomas thought that maybe he was the only one given that
fantastic, sublime gift. None of his family members had seen the object and
they were at the picnic. As such, no one from school could have seen it either,
especially Ryan or Victor. He thought of what Grandpa had told him during their
drive into the forest, which brought a smile to Thomas' face because the
experience of sighting the extraordinary craft certainly made him unique and
special too.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-16331176207995113062012-11-11T12:40:00.001-08:002012-11-11T12:50:26.238-08:00Sublimity-Part Two Here is the second installment of Sublimity. When we left the brood last week, they were preparing for their trip and family picnic. Please let me know what you think.<br />
<br />
Thanks,<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<br />
His dad got home about an hour later and the four of them piled into the car for the hour-long trip to Santa Fe'. Ally and Thomas played car bingo in the back seat for about half of the trip. Then they started getting restless and a few ‘are we almost theres?’ later, they arrived at Grandma's house. Uncle Sean, Aunt Alice, and their two kids, Ralph and Molly, were already there. They had come in from Las Cruces, which takes infinitely longer than the trip Thomas' family just taken. He had not seen his cousins since Thanksgiving last year because Uncle Sean’s family went to Aunt Alice parent’s house during the Christmas break. He missed them on that holiday, but they were here now and Thomas was glad to see them.<br />
“When did you guys get here?” Thomas asked Aunt Alice while they hugged.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“We got here at about noon,” she squeezed Thomas. “Uncle Sean did not have to work today and I started my vacation.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“What about Ralph and Molly?” Thomas didn’t completely understand the concept that their schedules could be different. “Me and Ally had to go to school today.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“They finished yesterday.” Aunt Alice wiped the smudged lipstick off Thomas’ cheek. “What are you going to do this summer?” she queried.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I don’t know,” Thomas replied and he sincerely had not thought of the summer beyond tomorrow’s picnic. “I’m just excited for tomorrow.”<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Hellos and pleasantries were exchanged with the rest of his family. Grandma asked if he wanted something to eat. Grandpa threw a pretend punch and acted hurt when Thomas fake-retaliated. Uncle Sean commented how much he had grown. Ralph and Molly said hi and then the kids separated into the usual boy’s section in the backyard and girl’s section in the den for both parties to catch up. Thomas and Ralph compared toys, talked about school, played war, smashed ant hills, and then it was time to eat. They resumed after dinner and soon it was bedtime. Thomas didn't complain, he was tired and knew he was getting up early to go scout out the site with Grandpa in the morning.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It was early when he heard the whisper, "Time to get up. Let's go." Thomas did not need much coaxing from Grandpa to get out of bed. He got up and tried to wake up his cousin.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"C'mon Ralph," Thomas was excited. It was here! The event!<br />
Ralph did not share the enthusiasm, "Go away!"<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Grandpa whispered, "Come on Thomas. It looks like it's just you and me." He turned toward the kitchen to fill his thermos with coffee. "Go get ready. We leave in half an hour."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Although Thomas wanted to spend time with Ralph, he was kind of thankful that just Grandpa and he were going out to scout out the picnic site. Spending time alone with Grandpa made him feel special, like he was important. “Okay. I’ll be ready,” he whispered so as not to wake Ralph. With that, Thomas shot past Grandpa for the bathroom to brush his teeth. One thing about Grandpa: if he said thirty minutes, he meant thirty minutes; he did not wait for anyone.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Before long, the two of them were in the car heading for the forest where the campground was. There was a day use area in the Santa Fe’ National Forest where they always held their family picnic. They rode with the windows down and the air grew cleaner and a bit cooler as they entered the lush blanket of pine trees. The sun felt good on his skin as it flashed between the trees and the scent of the fresh pines filled the car, which relaxed Thomas. He loved the big trees for two reasons. First, they provided shade from the hot desert sun in the afternoon so he and his cousins could play longer. Second, they rendered piñon, or pine nuts, a southwestern delicacy. The family often came up to the same forest, right before the Balloon Fiesta started, to harvest the succulent nuts, which they took home, roasted, and ate as a snack. The year’s bounty rarely made it past the Thanksgiving school break.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"How was the second grade?" Grandpa asked.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I'm just thankful that it is over," Thomas replied.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"That bad huh? What made it so terrible?" Grandpa continued his line of questioning.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"My teacher thought I was a troublemaker," Thomas confessed. "And there were two other boys that just got on my nerves all the time." He explained how Ryan and Victor dominated the class and that he felt incompetent next to the two, which lasted the whole school year.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Why are you comparing yourself to others?" Grandpa asked. "You are not Ryan or Victor or any other boy. You are Thomas and you only have to compete with yourself to be the best you you can be."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thomas did not quite grasp the concept of competing with one's self. "How do you mean?"<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You have your own qualities Thomas," Grandpa explained. "And you have your own experiences. These qualities and experiences are what make us individuals. You only have to make sure that you keep your mind open and take advantage of opportunities to improve yourself."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thomas thought this sounded like good advice, but was still glad the second grade was over. Maybe he could make use of this advice to prepare for the third grade, which had to be considerably more demanding than the one he just finished. Thomas filed the conversation away for future use as they drove deeper into the forest.<br />
<div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-60757432113766653312012-11-04T16:26:00.000-08:002012-11-04T16:31:02.030-08:00Sublimity-Part OneI apologize for the expanse of time that has passed since my last post. I did end up successfully completing Script Frenzy last April with my 100-page (on the dot) screenplay <i>Echoes of Enchantment. </i>Success came on the last day of the event through a grueling 25-page grind that lasted about six hours.<br />
<br />
I thought I would change things up with a bit of fiction that I wrote last year. This is a short story I wrote as a primer before starting the novel. Please let me know what you think.<br />
<br />
Thanks,<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
SUBLIMITY<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Had the clock actually stopped ticking? "I think it has," Thomas thought. It read 1:30, which is what it had said for at least an hour and a half. The class was watching Charlotte's Web and munching on popcorn with soda chasers, courtesy of several volunteer moms. Thomas didn't know why he had to come to school at all today because this was almost fun, and fun was not something he associated with school. It was the last day of second grade and he was ready to get started with summer. He was glad school was letting out because he didn't care for school, and this year in particular, because some of the things learned that were not part of the lessons. He didn't care much for his teacher, Mrs. Abernathy, either because she had labeled him as somewhat of a discipline problem for often failing to finish all of his work. The lessons were so boring and there was so much more to focus attention on or do in the classroom.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Charlotte was spinning her web, touting Wilber's unique and special qualities, but Thomas didn't notice because he was reflecting on second grade. There was picture day when a kid, a fifth-grader he thought, pushed him down and, consequently, he was photographically immortalized with mussed hair and a cut lip. He thought of two classmates, Ryan Jones and Victor Flores, and how they seemed to always do the right things. They finished their schoolwork before anyone else and they got good grades. Thomas recalled the instance when Mrs. Abernathy allowed the two of them more time with the science experiment kits than she gave anyone else in the class. "We just have a little bit more to do," Ryan pleaded to Mrs. Abernathy. She allowed them the extra time. Thomas remembered that he thought the kits were fun, but lost interest quickly when he wasn’t allowed the extra time needed to do his experiments. All the helper moms always seemed to dote over those two as well, like right now one of the moms was bringing them more popcorn and soda. Thomas didn't necessarly hate the two of them, but he wouldn't feel bad if they both threw up, preferably on each other, on their way home from school today. The thought of this made Thomas smile.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Two o'clock. The big-hand finally made its agonizingly slow uphill climb to the top of the clock. One more hour. The gears in Thomas' mind shifted out of reverse and into forward as he envisioned the upcoming annual family picnic. Thoughts of Ryan and Victor melted into images of the forest as he pondered the event that signalled the official start of summer for Thomas. He looked forward to washing second grade off of his skin and enjoying the freedom summer brings. This year was different from past years because of the inequities he observed and registered for the first time in his short life, which made Thomas feel comparatively inadequate to his contemporaries somehow.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Buzzzzz…..the bell that buzzed, instead of ringing like bells are supposed to, which always made Thomas wonder why they called it a bell, buzzed, signifying the end of second grade and he start of summer. “Have a superfantastic summer!” Mrs. Abernathy said to the class as they gathered any items from their desks that had not been taken home already. She always used weird words like that. “Don’t forget to place your chairs on top of your desks,” she yelled above the din. However, Thomas heard it in the background because he was already out of the room and into summer’s freedom.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He waited impatiently for Abraham Zephyr, Thomas’ one and only friend. “Hurry up,” Thomas called to Abraham. The two had similar interests like cars, bikes, and pretty much anything with wheels. Abraham was more outgoing than Thomas, so he had other friends with whom he spent time. Not to mention numerous cousins who lived in town that he visited on many weekends. Frequently, the Monday morning walk-to-school conversations were consumed with the latest exploits of the Zephyr clan, which made Thomas a bit jealous because he likely had spent the weekend alone and didn’t have much activity to report to Abraham.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Wilber is a pretty talented pig," Abraham said as they walked toward his house. "He's lucky he had Charlotte to do his advertising." He chuckled at his own wit.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I wasn't really paying attention," Thomas confessed. "I'm just glad school is out for the summer. I'm ready to start having some fun." Thomas thought of the upcoming picnic, "I get to see my cousins pretty soon at our picnic." He liked when he was able to tell Abraham about visiting his cousins, because then Abraham was forced to find something else to do.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"When is your picnic?" Abraham probed. He didn't let Thomas answer. "I'm going to my gramma’s this weekend to get some more rabbits. Two of my cages are still empty." Abraham and his dad had built rabbit condominiums in their backyard with eight cages that could hold two rabbits per cage. Thomas didn't know what fascinated Abraham about the rabbits because they didn't do much, they had to be fed, and their crap needed cleaning up. None of which interested Thomas because they sounded like chores, which he despised.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I'm not sure when the picnic is," Thomas admitted, "it's always at the beginning of summer. We go to my grandma's house and meet up with my cousins there for like a weekend or something." Abraham did not seem that interested since they had reached his house.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Abraham walked toward the door and called over his shoulder, "Later dude. Give me a holler."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"See ya," Thomas replied with a wave and he hurried home to let the second grade melt away in the southwest spring heat.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thomas' mom met him at the door, “I have a surprise for you! I spoke with your uncle this morning and he told me this weekend is better for him and his family to have the picnic. We're leaving tonight!" She sounded as excited as she had just made him. Thomas' mom knew it had been a tough year for him even though he didn't say anything. Moms just have a way of knowing. She was excited for Thomas because she knew how much he looked forward to this event every year and what it meant to him. "Get in there and pack your bag," she motioned toward his room.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thomas had priorities. He started with toys: Which ones had his cousins seen before? Which ones would they like best? Which would be the best to use in the forest where they picnic? Half an hour later, he hadn't gotten very far when his mom came to check on him. "What are you doing?" she asked while surveying the piles of toys. Thomas had divided his toys depending on priority of importance. "Do you think you should pack some clothes?"<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Thomas confessed that it had not crossed his mind, but agreed that it was probably a good idea. "Will you help me?" he asked, which was really kid-code for 'will you do it for me?'<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Mom knew this and she had already started setting clothes on his bed according to type. "We'll be staying until Tuesday and you will probably need extra because you don't stay very clean when you're with your cousins," she was half talking to Thomas but mostly verbalizing a list for herself. Ten minutes later, his clothes were packed and his bag was by the front door next to Alyssa's, or Ally, his sister. "Pick the toys you are taking and you are NOT taking all of them," she warned, "You need to be done in about twenty minutes so you can get cleaned up for the trip."<br />
<div>
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<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-62652221775579545262012-04-10T10:47:00.000-07:002012-04-10T10:47:38.609-07:00The Guardian LifeTen days into the Script Frenzy and all systems are go. Thirty-five pages written, sixty-five to go. At this point, the protagonist, Jennabel, has taken the important role of Guardian for her coven. She has met a possible suitor, and introduced him to her best friend, Sadie, and to her father, Jeffery. Sadie, the antagonist (some call her Shady Sadie), is not to keen on the idea of having to share Jennabel with a boy and the coven, which is causing a rift to develop between the two. The coven Elder, Braham Golden, is 150 years old (it's amazing because he doesn't look a day over 60), and he maintains the traditional view of the craft as a means for harmonious existence with the environment. Others in the coven, chiefly Cuff Nalpak (I would look for hidden meaning in that name) feel they are falling behind because the rest of the world is progressing and they could use the craft to better the position of their people. Enough about the plot so far, I don't want to give away the farm.<br />
<br />
The role of Guardian is twofold. First, the Guardian serves the Elders by casting spells used in the craft. Like the separation of branches in the government, the Ancients thought that all the power in the coven should not belong to one person, so the Guardian role was created (please keep in mind this is fiction, so it's all in my head). The Guardian also protect the powerful spells they use in serving the Elders, which are contained in a spell book that is specifically created for the person serving in the Guardian role. <br />
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As the story continues, the chasm between Jennabel and Sadie, as well as the traditional and progressive coven members, continues to develop. The romance between Jennabel and Patrick continues budding. I wouldn't be surprised if some shocking revelations are revealed along the way too. Last, Taylor, I understand you are probably waiting for the finished product before giving your answer, and I am okay with that.<br />
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Thanks for reading!<br />
<br />
~SlayerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-12882180386857403892012-04-04T10:21:00.001-07:002012-04-09T11:58:17.235-07:00Update from EnchantmentToday marks the fourth day of Screnzy, and thus far, I am on track for my 100 pages after completing the 14th page today. My experience, to this point, has revealed two major differences between novel writing and scriptwriting. The first is the pace of the story, which in novel writing, can be much slower as the author takes time to develop the story through several pages or chapters even. This is contrasted by the need to rapidly develop the story line in a screenplay, where each page of script is roughly one minute of action (or so I've read). The second difference is the devices or tools authors can use to propel the story. In a novel, the author can use the character's thoughts, dialog, setting descriptions, sensory descriptions, etcetera. In a screenplay, the major tools are dialog and setting, which I am sure there is much more to it, but this is a rookie comparison between the two.
<br />
<br />
The action is rapid and within the 14 pages of script for Echoes of Enchantment, a lot has already happened. Jennabel Proctor's mother, Diana, died in a fire (or was it the fire that killed her?). Just a side note, characters named Diana do not fair well in any of my writings, which makes me wonder if there is some underlying issues with that name. Enough self-therapy though, Jennabel took the responsibility of Coven Guardian with the passing of her mother, a position selected by birthright. She met a possible suitor (1852 talk), which infuriated her bestie, Sadie, who is jealous of Jennabel's success.
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<br />
Next time, I will reveal more about the Guardian role, at least the parts that are not top secret. The role is central to the Echoes story, as well as the novel, Cooking Athanasia. Last, Taylor, if you're reading, I'm offering you first crack at the lead.
<br />
<br />
Thanks for reading,
<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/eng/user/1024205">http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/eng/user/1024205</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-56796281801158843272012-04-01T17:29:00.000-07:002012-04-03T09:36:36.108-07:00Script Frenzy Has Begun Script Frenzy started April 1st right on schedule. The interesting thing for me though, was that I was on a whale watching tour in the Puget Sound bright and early the morning of the first. So, there I was, dockside before the tour started, thinking about beginning to write my screenplay. The lightbulb over my head illuminated: I can download the CELTX app (screenplay writing software) to my iPhone and start writing during any downtime on the tour. I did just that, so the fist page and a half was written on a catamaran on the way back to the dock.<br /> The working title of my screenplay is Echoes of Enchantment. Here are some of the characters. Jennabel Proctor, she had to assume the duties of Guardian for the coven after her mother, Diana was murdered. Jefferey Proctor, Diana's husband and Jennabel's father (he is sad). Sadie Bishop, Jennabel's best friend, or is she? Cuff Nalpak, maladjusted and disgruntled coven member. Patrick Miller, the blacksmith's apprentice (every story needs a blacksmith's apprentice).<br /> So far, I am ten pages into the screenplay and need only 90 more to claim success at the end of the month and conclusion of Screnzy '12. I will keep you posted with progress updates and tidbits about plot and character as the month progresses.<br /><br />~Slayer<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-1715519138165117072012-03-30T17:23:00.000-07:002012-03-30T17:23:27.005-07:00Back After a Long Hiatus First, I want to say hello to my six loyal fans. Did you miss me? I have been working on some other writing projects, thus neglecting my self-appointed Slayer duties. I am embarking on an artistic journey this coming Sunday called Script Frenzy. The goal is to write 100 pages of screen play, graphic novel, television show, or some other similar type of creative work. Screnzy (cute huh?) starts on April 1st and ends the 30th. The rules are that it must be a completely new piece of work written during the thirty days, but outlining prior to the start is okay. <br />
For my project, I have decided to write a screen play, the subject of which is the back story to the novel I am currently writing (23,060 words in so far). Just a taste of what to expect: Witches, both good and bad, a spell book, coven leaders with different ideals, murder, romance, and few other surprises that I don't want to give away yet. And yes, I do plan to work on both projects simultaneously.<br />
I hope I have wet your appetite, since I do plan to keep you updated as to my progress (or lack of) during the Script Frenzy. As the month goes by, I will reveal a little more of the plot, so you can be in the know. I have also included a link to the Script Frenzy site if you would like more information.<br />
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Thanks for your support,<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.scriptfrenzy.org/">http://www.scriptfrenzy.org</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-80939845717520850262010-12-30T07:08:00.000-08:002010-12-30T08:59:28.264-08:00Postcards from the Dark Side The alarmists have struck again! The message: another cautionary note, fraught with elements of both reality and creative writing, warning us of the danger from Internet postcards sent to our email boxes. Per the message, the digital postcards deliver a destructive and catastrophic payload to the computer hard drive when opened. Lending credibility to this threat from the anonymous author, is the advice from the anonymous, very advanced, programmer from Microsoft, who does computer work for a living combined with a high status with the software giant. This unknown source is notorious for not sending email notifying recipients of a threat if they it is not for real, so lock down the hard drive and man the virtual battle stations, 'cuz this got to be real!<br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">FYI TO ALL. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our friend is a very advanced programmer who does computer work for a living and has a high up status with Microsoft . He doesn't send these if they aren't real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he says this is for real, it for sure is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Be aware.. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">VIRUS COMING ! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hi All, </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I checked with Norton Anti-Virus, and they are gearing up for this virus! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I checked Snopes, and it is for real. Get this E-mail message sent around to your contacts ASAP. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">PLEASE FORWARD THIS WARNING AMONG FRIENDS, FAMILY AND CONTACTS! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">You should be alert during the next few days. Do not open any message with an attachment entitled 'POSTCARD FROM HALLMARK,' regardless of who sent it to you. It is a virus which opens A POSTCARD IMAGE, which 'burns' the whole hard disc C of your computer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This virus will be received from someone who has your e-mail address in his/her contact list. This is the reason why you need to send this e-mail to all your contacts. It is better to receive this message 25 times than to receive the virus and open it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">If you receive a mail called' POSTCARD,' even though sent to you by a friend, do not open it! Shut down your computer immediately. This is the worst virus announced by CNN . </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It has been classified by Microsoft as the most destructive virus ever. This virus was discovered by McAfee yesterday, and there is no repair yet for this kind of virus. This virus simply destroys the Zero Sector of the Hard Disc, where the vital information is kept. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">COPY THIS E-MAIL, AND SEND IT TO YOUR FRIENDS. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">REMEMBER: IF YOU SEND IT TO THEM, YOU WILL BENEFIT ALL OF US</span></div><br />
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SLAYER'S RESPONSE:<br />
<br />
I know I rely heavily on Snopes for their investigation into the reliability of the messages written about in the RC Blog, so I decided to follow the footsteps of the author of this message for the slaying process. One would think that if CNN called this the "worst virus" ever, a simple keyword search on the CNN site would render some sort of result, but no such luck. A keyword search at Norton (which is, in reality Symantec) revealed some of the partial truth because there was a worm virus, called W32.Mixor.Q, that was sent through email in 2001. The final check, Snopes, where the author also verified the status, (which, if the anonymous, high up status computer dude doesn't forward hoaxes, then why did the author need to check Snopes?) revealed the truth that a virus did exist but it is old news now. I don't know, maybe the virus makers are slacking, so we need to replay old threats. The bottom line is that we are probably safe from this virus because it is likely saved on a floppy disc and who has disc drives anymore?<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.cnn.com/search/?query=worst">http://www.cnn.com/search/?query=worst</a> computer virus&primaryType=mixed&sortBy=date&intl=false<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://www.symantec.com/outbreak/happynewyear_worm.html">http://www.symantec.com/outbreak/happynewyear_worm.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.snopes.com/computer/virus/postcard.asp">http://www.snopes.com/computer/virus/postcard.asp</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-88797073958642555512010-12-24T07:13:00.000-08:002010-12-24T07:13:45.428-08:00The Morning Before Christmas It has been some time since I have submitted anything to the RC Blog, so I apologize to my four faithful followers (yes, this comment is a hint for you to push the "follow" button at the top of the right column). Slayerland has been unusually busy with preparation for Christmas, dissertation proposal writing, and other things in life that clamor for attention. Now, on Christmas Eve, I finally got a chance to take a break and thought I would post <em>The Soldiers Night Before Christmas </em>as a tribute to the men and women of our Armed Forces who stand watch while we celebrate, lest they not be forgotten.<br />
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 2; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 18pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE SOLDIERS NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 18pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 4; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,<br />
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.<br />
I had come down the chimney with presents to give<br />
And to see just who in this home did live.</span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I looked all about a strange sight I did see,<br />
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.<br />
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand,<br />
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With medals and badges, awards of all kind<br />
A sober thought came through my mind.<br />
For this house was different, so dark and dreary,<br />
I knew I had found the home of a soldier, once I could see clearly.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I heard stories about them, I had to see more<br />
So I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.<br />
And there he lay sleeping silent alone,<br />
Curled up on the floor in his one bedroom home.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His face so gentle, his room in such disorder,<br />
Not how I pictured a United States soldier.<br />
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?<br />
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His head was clean shaven, his weathered face tan,<br />
I soon understood this was more than a man.<br />
For I realized the families that I saw that night<br />
Owed their lives to these men who were willing to fight.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Soon `round the world, the children would play,<br />
And grownups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.<br />
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,<br />
Because of soldiers like this one lying here.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I couldn´t help wonder how many lay alone<br />
On a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.<br />
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye,<br />
I dropped to my knees and started to cry.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,<br />
"Santa don´t cry, this life is my choice;<br />
I fight for freedom, I don´t ask for more,<br />
my life is my God, my country, my Corps."</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With that he rolled over and drifted off into sleep,<br />
I couldn´t control it, I continued to weep.<br />
I watched him for hours, so silent and still,<br />
I noticed he shivered from the cold night´s chill.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,<br />
And I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.<br />
And I put on his T-shirt of gray and black,<br />
With an eagle and an Army patch embroidered on back.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,<br />
And for a shining moment, I was United States Army deep inside.<br />
I didn´t want to leave him on that cold dark night,<br />
This guardian of honor so willing to fight.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then the soldier rolled over, whispered with a voice so clean and pure,<br />
"Carry on Santa, it's Christmas Day, all is secure."<br />
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,<br />
Merry Christmas my friend, and to all a good night!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><br />
This poem was originally titled <em>Merry Christmas, My Friend </em>and written by LCpl James M. Schmidt in 1986. The poem was changed to the version posted here by LTC Bruce Lovley in 1993. LTC Lovely mainly changed Marine-specific references to more of generic feel toward all service members. The bottom line: I am thankful for ALL of our U.S. Military members and want them to know they are heroes every single day.<br />
<br />
Thank you and Merry Christmas<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp">http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/soldier.asp</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-39027671237790281782010-11-27T10:43:00.000-08:002010-11-27T10:44:05.671-08:00Perilous Parking Lot Practice by Predators? The Mall and Target seem to be favorite places for ill-doers to hang out. Do not get me wrong, people of any gender should be aware of their surroundings at all times because bad people do exist. However, sensationalism of evil doings by posting accounts of fictional occurrences via email is akin to yelling "fire" in a theater. One might counter with a statement such as, "Well, it could happen." If that is the argument, then society has much ground to make up as far as warning the population about things that could happen, but have not actually ever occurred before. Besides, I thought that is what movies were for.<br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><strong><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Arial Black", "sans-serif";">Needs to be read!!</span></strong><br />
A new way to abduct a female very scary </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">NEW RAPE SCAM!!!! PLEASE READ!!!!!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Please pass on to all your girlfriends, wives, etc. Just to be on the safe side. Please be aware and<br />
pass it on to anyone you think this will help.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Sunday afternoon around 5 PM I headed into the Target. It was still light outside and I parked fairly close to the entrance. As I got out of my car and began walking towards Target, an older lady shouted to me<br />
from the passenger seat of a car about 30 feet away from me.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">"Ma'am you must help me, help me please, help me Ma'am!" I looked at her in the eyes and started to walk towards her when all of a sudden I remembered an email my Mom had sent me a week or two ago<br />
about rapists and abductions using elderly people to lure women in.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">I paused, memorized the license plate and immediately headed into Target to get a manager to come help this lady, just in case something was up. While the woman manager headed out there, I kept a close watch just<br />
because I was curious what was wrong with the lady and wanted to be sure nothing happened.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">As the Target lady walked up towards the car and got very close to the old woman in order to help her, the back door of the car flies open and a large man with a stocking cap on, jumps out and sticks a gun to the<br />
lady's stomach as he shoves her into the back of the car. I yelled out "call 911" several times and just as I was saying that, a policeman who happened to be on the other side of the parking lot! And who, luckily had seen the entire thing happen, raced over to the car.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
He was able to stop the car and arrest the male as well as the old lady, who was involved in the scheme… By God's grace everyone was all right, including myself, although I think we were both shaken up.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">Like many of you, I would not in a million years have left an elderly person who was yelling for help if it weren't for the e-mail I had read last week. So, I wanted to pass this along so you all can be aware and remember that you really can't trust anyone these days.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">You just never know when something like this could happen. I would have never dreamed it to happen to me especially on a Sunday afternoon at a Target in a safe area!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
It definitely was not a coincidence that my Mom sent that email just a few days before this all happened. Please, be careful and always be aware of your surroundings. Just because you individually don't go over to help someone doesn't mean you have to leave them in trouble but don't go ALONE, you really don't know what might be going on.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">This was checked with <a href="http://snopes.com/" target="_blank" title="http://snopes.com/">Snopes.com</a> <<a href="http://snopes.com/" target="_blank" title="http://snopes.com/">http://snopes.com/</a>> http: //snopescom/ - this is true and they also use children to lure the victim !!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Please pass on to all your girlfriends, wives, etc. Just to be on the safe side. Please be aware and<br />
pass it on to anyone you think this will help.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
SLAYER'S RESPONSE:<br />
<br />
At the end of the message, the author urges the reader to validate the information via the Snopes website. Snopes' response to this claim was "Er--no, we don't say that. In fact, we say the exact opposite. The story is false." Since the source given in the email body refutes the claim, this is good enough for me. Using a reference in such a manner reminds me of using a sworn enemy as a job reference. I did find it particularly amusing that the alleged first person in the message had no issue with throwing the Target manager under the bus. She was also very helpful by yelling "call 911" several times. I don't know, but she almost sounds like an accomplice to me. Anyway, be aware of your surroundings but please do not stop helping older women and children who may be in need. <br />
<br />
Happy Belated Thanksgiving!<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/crime/warnings/wheaton.asp">http://www.snopes.com/crime/warnings/wheaton.asp</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-18147452437252603812010-11-20T20:42:00.000-08:002010-11-20T20:42:15.665-08:00Worth Fighting For? During my course of business last week, I spotted a bumper sticker that read "War is Terrorism" on two different cars while on I-5. Now this is understandable since I was in the Seattle area, but what baffles me is that one of the bumper stickers was on a woman's car. My first reaction to seeing this woman with that sticker on her car was that she should don a burka, burn any books she owns, and quit having opinions because women under Taliban rule were not permitted such things. In other words, the notion of this person believing war unjust under any circumstance was like a double negative. How could she protest war if she did not believe in conflict? <br />
<br />
As for the message on the bumper sticker, I thought war was war and terrorism was terrorism. Let's ask Webster. War is usually an open or stated state of conflict between states or nations, or it is a state of antagonism or hostility. Terrorism is the systematic use of terror as a means of coercion. It looks like Webster agrees with me that a difference exists between these two words. <br />
<br />
I don not want to give you the idea that I am a war monger, in fact, quite the contrary. My belief is that the conflict in Afghanistan has gone on long enough and I do not believe politicians know the desired end-state for that nation anymore. This is compounded with my very personal stake of my only child being currently deployed. Sure, I want the war over, but I also believe that U.S. actions have improved the standard of living for the people of Afghanistan, which is a wonderful ancillary benefit of our so called "terrorism" in that region of the world. So I ask the "War is Terrorism" lady, what good came from the terrorist actions that occurred on September 11, 2001? As I recall that day, there was nothing but destruction. I believe those actions and preservation of our way of life<em> are </em>things worth fighting for.<br />
<br />
~Slayer<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/">http://www.merriam-webster.com</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-20929993822287078562010-11-13T18:29:00.000-08:002010-11-13T18:44:27.112-08:00Anatomy of a Slaying By now I am sure you are wondering how exactly I am able to determine the reliability level of the different messages that have made it to the Reality Check (RC) blog. I assure you I am not magic, nor am I a seer, nor do I have a leprechaun working for me who grants unlimited wishes. For this RC installment, I thought it might be fun to take you, the reader, with me as I slay another piece of scary yet bogus email. So fasten your seat belt and get your personal emergency alarm whistle at the ready as we check to see if this new technique is really being <span style="background-color: white;">employed by savvy kidnappers in the modern world. For this journey, I will insert Slayer commentary in brackets [<span style="background-color: yellow;">like these</span>] to give you insight as to how the message is validated. </span><br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE [<span style="background-color: yellow;">With embedded Slayer commentary</span>]:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">No date for the original message, not a good start for the reliability meter</span>]</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm not an alarmist but this one hit home with me. You can really get yourself into trouble just by being "nice". We must all <u>think</u> first. Please read below </span><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">Really? It sounds like you are being an alarmist</span>]</span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">.<br />
<br />
<b><i><u>NEW FORM OF KIDNAPPING </u></i></b><br />
<br />
Please take a minute to read this. This is very scary and could happen to any of us..</span><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">Double period, must be a serious point</span>]</span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Seems like every nice thing people do for one another can be perverted. <br />
<br />
A new twist on kidnapping from a very smart survivor: <br />
<br />
About a month ago </span><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">A month ago <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">when</i>? This is not a real date</span>]</span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> there was a woman standing by the mall </span><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">Which mall?]</span></span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> entrance passing out flyers to all the women going in.The woman had written the flyer herself to tell about an experience she had, so that she might warn other women. <br />
<br />
The previous day, this woman had finished shopping, went out to her car and discovered that she had a flat. <br />
<br />
She got the jack out of the trunk and began to change the flat. A nice man dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase walked up to her and said, 'I noticed you're changing a flat tire. Would you like me to take care of it for you?' <br />
<br />
The woman was grateful for his offer and accepted his help. They chatted amiably while the man changed the flat, and then put the flat tire and the jack in the trunk, shut it and dusted his hands off. <br />
<br />
The woman thanked him profusely, and as she was about to get in her car, the man told her that he left his car around on the other side of the mall, and asked if she would mind giving him a lift to his car. <br />
<br />
She was a little surprised and she asked him why his car was on other side. <br />
<br />
He explained that he had seen an old friend in the mall that he hadn't seen for some time and they had a bite to eat, visited for a while, and he got turned around in the mall and left through the wrong exit, and now he was running late. <br />
<br />
The woman hated to tell him 'no' because he had just rescued her from having to change her flat tire all by herself, but <b><i>she felt un easy </i></b>. (Trust that gut feeling!) <br />
<br />
Then she remembered seeing the man put his briefcase in her trunk before shutting it and before he asked her for a ride to his car. <br />
<br />
She told him that she'd be happy to drive him around to his car, But she just remembered one last thing she needed to buy. (Smart woman!!) <br />
She said she would only be a few minutes; he could sit down in her car and wait for her; she would be as quick as she could be <br />
<br />
She hurried into the mall, and told a security guard what had happened, the guard </span><span style="background: white; color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">[<span style="background-color: yellow;">Blart? Really?]</span></span></span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> came out to her car with her, but the man had left. They opened the trunk, took out his locked briefcase and took it down to the police station. <br />
<br />
The police opened it (ostensibly to look for ID so they could return it to the man). What they found was rope, duct tape, and knives. When the police checked her 'flat' tire, there was nothing wrong with it; the air had simply been let out. It was obvious what the man's intention was, and obvious that he had carefully thought it out in advance. The woman was blessed to have escaped harm. <br />
<br />
How much worse it would have been if she had children with her and had them wait in the car while the man fixed the tire, or if she had a baby strapped into a car seat? Or if she'd gone against her judgment and given him a lift? <br />
<br />
I'd like you to forward this to all the women you know. It may save a life. <br />
<br />
A candle is not dimmed by lighting another candle. I was going to send this to the ladies only; but guys, if you love your mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, etc.., you may want to pass it on to them, as well. <b><br />
</b><br />
Send this to any woman you know that may need to be reminded that The world we live in has a lot of crazies in it. Better to be safe than sorry. <br />
<br />
PLEASE BE SAFE </span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Comic Sans MS"; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">AND NOT SORRY</span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Arial", "sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">!<span style="color: black;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">THE SLAYING:</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">1.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Found Snopes website via Bing. Typed “new form of kidnapping” in search box.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">2.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Read article on Snopes reveling this story to be a variation of an urban legend. This particular version has been on the Internet since 2001.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">3.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Double check CNN for any similar story since the news media loves this kind of s**t, it would likely turn up there if it were real, no such luck.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">4.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And Presto, this piece is debunked!</span></div>SLAYER'S COMMENTS:<br />
<br />
Since you took the journey with me, you already know this piece is a total fabrication. In fact, it took longer to write about how it to slay it than it did to determine the message was a load of hooey. At this point, I believe it is safe to dry off and pocket the personal emergency whistle until another potential threat is uncovered via the magic of the Internet and email.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://www.snopes.com/horrors/madmen/hairyarm.asp</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">http://www.ehow.com/how_4791758_personal-emergency-alarm-whistle.html</span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-49316404590773911662010-11-07T21:04:00.000-08:002010-11-07T21:05:58.921-08:00Onions: Friend or Foe? Many a dish has been spiced up with the help of our multi-layered friend, the onion, for as long as we can remember. But wait, the email in this piece points to the possibility that the food we once considered to be our friend could actually have dire consequences if we don't consume it within milliseconds of breaking through its protective exterior layer. On the flip side, the same thing that may make the onion dangerous could also be a breakthrough in the medical field and I would imagine onion wards will open in hospitals around the globe once medical doctors get wind of the healing power of the onion.<br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ONIONS---POISONOUS ---???<br />
<br />
Good Morning..just had to pass this one on with fall here & winer coming...would be nice if it did work...<br />
If you ever come to my house and see a bowl of onions on the table, you'll understand why. Very interesting. Who would have thought a little old onion could do so much.<br />
ONIONS - NOT JUST FOR EATING....VERY INTERESTING !!!!!!!<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">ONIONS<br />
In 1919 when the flu killed 40 million people there was this Doctor that visited the many farmers to see if he could help them combat the flu. Many of the farmers and their family had contracted it and many died.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The doctor came upon this one farmer and to his surprise, everyone was very healthy. When the doctor asked what the farmer was doing that was different the wife replied that she had placed an unpeeled onion in a dish in the rooms of the home, (probably only two rooms back then). The doctor couldn't believe it and asked if he could have one of the onions and place it under the microscope. She gave him one and when he did this, he did find the flu virus in the onion. It obviously absorbed the bacteria, therefore, keeping the family healthy.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, I heard this story from my hairdresser in AZ. She said that several years ago many of her employees were coming down with the flu and so were many of her customers. The next year she placed several bowls with onions around in her shop. To her surprise, none of her staff got sick. It must work.. (And no, she is not in the onion business.)<br />
<br />
The moral of the story is, buy some onions and place them in bowls around your home. If you work at a desk, place one or two in your office or under your desk or even on top somewhere. Try it and see what happens. We did it last year and we never got the flu.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If this helps you and your loved ones from getting sick, all the better. If you do get the flu, it just might be a mild case.. Whatever, what have you to lose? Just a few bucks on onions!!!!!!<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now there is a P. S. To this for I sent it to a friend in Oregon who regularly contributes material to me on health issues. She replied with this most interesting experience about onions:<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thanks for the reminder. I don't know about the farmers story.. But, I do know that I contacted pneumonia and needless to say I was very ill.. I came across an article that said to cut both ends off an onion put one end on a fork and then place the forked end into an empty jar...placing the jar next to the sick patient at night. It said the onion would be black in the morning from the germs.. Sure enough it happened just like that.. The onion was a mess and I began to feel better.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Another thing I read in the article was that onions and garlic placed around the room saved many from the black plague years ago. They have powerful antibacterial, antiseptic properties.<br />
<br />
This is the other note.<br />
Lots of times when we have stomach problems we don't know what to blame. Maybe it's the onions that are to blame. Onions absorb bacteria is the reason they are so good at preventing us from getting colds and flu's and is the very reason we shouldn't eat an onion that has been sitting for a time after it has been cut open.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">LEFT OVER ONIONS ARE POISONOUS<br />
I had the wonderful privilege of touring Mullins Food Products, Makers of mayonnaise. Mullins is huge, and is owned by 11 brothers and sisters in the Mullins family. My friend, Jeanne, is the CEO.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Questions about food poisoning came up, and I wanted to share what I learned from a chemist.<br />
The guy who gave us our tour is named Ed. He's one of the brothers Ed is a chemistry expert and is involved in developing most of the sauce formula. He's even developed sauce formula for McDonald's.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Keep in mind that Ed is a food chemistry whiz. During the tour, someone asked if we really needed to worry about mayonnaise. People are always worried that mayonnaise will spoil. Ed's answer will surprise you. Ed said that all commercially- made Mayo is completely safe.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It doesn't even have to be refrigerated. No harm in refrigerating it, but it's not really necessary." He explained that the pH in mayonnaise is set at a point that bacteria could not survive in that environment. He then talked about the quaint essential picnic, with the bowl of potato salad sitting on the table and how everyone blames the mayonnaise when someone gets sick.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ed says that! when food poisoning is reported, the first thing the officials look for is when the 'victim' last ate ONIONS and where those onions came from (in the potato salad?). Ed says it's not the mayonnaise (as long as it's not homemade Mayo) that spoils in the outdoors. It's probably the<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span>onions, and if not the onions, it's the POTATOES.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He explained, onions are a huge magnet for bacteria, especially uncooked onions. You should never plan to keep a portion of a sliced onion.. He says it's not even safe if you put it in a zip-lock bag and put it in your refrigerator.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's already contaminated enough just by being cut open and out for a bit, that it can be a danger to you (and doubly watch out for those onions you put in your hotdogs at the baseball park!)<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ed says if you take the leftover onion and cook it like crazy you'! ll probably be okay, but if you slice that leftover onion and put on your sandwich, you're asking for trouble. Both the onions and the moist potato in a potato salad, will attract and grow bacteria faster than any<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span>commercial mayonnaise will even begin to break down.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, how's that for news? Take it for what you will. I (the author) am going to be very careful about my onions from now on. For some reason, I see a lot of credibility coming from a chemist and a company that produces millions of pounds of mayonnaise every year.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Also, dogs should never eat onions. Their stomachs cannot metabolize onions.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Please remember it is dangerous to cut an onion and try to use it to cook the next day, it becomes highly poisonous for even a single night and creates toxic bacteria which may cause adverse stomach infections because of excess bile secretions and even food poisoning.<br />
<span class="yiv1592339801015361121-02112010"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Please pass this on to all you love and care.</span><br />
<br />
SLAYER'S RESPONSE:<br />
<br />
While I hoped that we could use onions to suck disease out of the sick and then shoot the disease-laden vegetables at our enemies through onion cannons as a new super-weapon, the reality is that the claims made in this email sound incredulous because they are not true. Mike Mullens of Mullens Food Products set the record straight in the Snopes article on the subject by writing that the information in the email sounds as if it came from two separate tours of the plant and was (surprise, surprise) taken out of context. The real deal is that no amount of onions with anything stuck in them will suck the sick out of you and it is fine to save onions for a second use because they will not morph into a disease troll plotting its attack for the next recipe that calls for onion. Now the only question is what to do with all these onion necklaces and paperweights I made after first reading the email. Maybe some potato salad...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/fooddrink/a/leftover_onions_are_poisonous.htm">http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/fooddrink/a/leftover_onions_are_poisonous.htm</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/food/tainted/cutonions.asp">http://www.snopes.com/food/tainted/cutonions.asp</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-10969972351780890522010-11-04T10:01:00.000-07:002010-11-04T10:05:02.621-07:00Have Gun, Will Travel The piece below leads us to believe that serious restrictions toward gun ownership have been have been covertly implemented into law. The email provided a link to the Snopes site as evidence of the validity of the message. Unfortunately for the author(s) of the email, Snopes does not support the claim as factual but, instead, it is another example of a truth/fiction cocktail. Further exploration through the usual haunts such as Google, Bing, Fox News, and other online resources failed to reveal that the bill (which is actually two separate bills) had been ratified. The true part is that both bills have been presented to Congress but have essentially been shot down due to lack of support.<br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: navy; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Little by little -------- chip, chip, chip!!!</span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /></span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Verified true on Snopes <a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp">http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp</a></span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"> <a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp" target="_blank" title="http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp">p</a> </span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Gun owners.... Look what's on the 2010 tax return.... </span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">It begins... More Freedom gone... The right to protect yourself and your family gone! Now </span></b><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">ALL GUNS </span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">must be listed on your next (2010) tax return!</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Senate Bill SB-2099 will require us to put on our 2009 1040 federal tax form all guns that you have or own. It will require fingerprints and a tax of $50 per gun. This bill was introduced on February 24, 2009, by the Obama staff. BUT, this bill will only become public knowledge 30 days after the new law becomes effective! This is an amendment to the Internal Revenue Act of 1986. This means that the Finance Committee has passed this without the Senate voting on it at all. Trust Obama? You must be kidding!</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">The full text of the IRS amendment is on the <country-region u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on">U.S.</place></country-region> Senate homepage:<a href="http://www.senate.gov/" target="_blank" title="http://www.senate.gov/"><span style="color: blue;"> </span><span style="color: #0062e1;">www.senate.gov</span></a>. You can find the bill by doing a search by the bill number, SB-2099. You know who to call; I strongly suggest you do. </span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Please send a copy of this e-mail to every gun owner you know.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: #e26200; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Text of H.R.45 as Introduced in House: Blair Holt's Firearm Licensing and Record of <city u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on">Sale</place></city> Act of 2009:</span></b><b><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"><a href="http://www.opencongress.org/bill/111-h45/text" target="_blank" title="http://www.opencongress.org/bill/111-h45/text"><span style="color: #0062e1;">www.opencongress.org/bill/111-h45/text</span></a> </span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Obama's Congress is now starting on the firearms confiscation bill. If it passes, gun owners will become criminals if you don't fully comply.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">It has begun... Whatever Obama's "Secret Master Plan" is... This is just the 'tip of the iceberg!'</span></b><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
Very Important for you to be aware of a new bill HR 45 introduced into the House. This is the Blair Holt Firearm Licensing & Record of <city u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on">Sale</place></city> Act of 2009.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: maroon; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Even gun shop owners didn't know about this because the government is trying to fly it under the radar as a 'minor' IRS revision, and, as usual, the 'political' lawmakers did not read this bill before signing and approving it!</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">To find out about this - go to any government website and type in HR 45 or Goggle HR 45 Blair Holt Firearm Licensing & Record of Sales Act of 2009. You will get all the information.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Basically this would make it illegal to own a firearm - any rifle with a clip or ANY pistol unless: 1) It is registered 2) You are fingerprinted 3) You supply a current Driver's License 4) You supply your Social Security number 5) You will submit to a physical & mental evaluation at any time of their choosing. Each update change or ownership through private or public sale must be reported and costs $25. Failure to do so you automatically lose the right to own a firearm and are subject up to a year in jail.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">There is a child provision clause on page 16 section 305 stating a child-access provision. Gun must be locked and inaccessible to any child under 18. They would have the right to come and inspect that you are storing your gun safely away from accessibility to children and fine is punishable for up to 5 years in prison.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">If you think this is a joke - go to the website and take your pick of many options to read this.. It is long and lengthy. But, more and more people are becoming aware of this. Pass the word along. Any hunters in your family pass this along. This is just a "termite" approach to complete confiscation of guns and disarming of our society to the point we have no defense - chip away a little here and there until the goal is accomplished before anyone realizes it.</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">This is one to act on whether you own a gun or not.. </span></b><b><span style="color: red; font-family: "Kristen ITC"; font-size: 10pt;">Please..... Copy and send this out to EVERYONE in the <country-region u2:st="on"><place u2:st="on">USA</place></country-region> , whether you support the Right to Bear Arms or are for gun control.. We all should have the RIGHT TO CHOOSE!</span></b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"></span></div><br />
SLAYER'S RESPONSE:<br />
<br />
I realize that being a doctoral student has made me a very picky writer. As such, the selection of Kristin ITC font, a variation of Comic Sans, for a subject as important as infringement on our Second Amendment rights baffles me. Aside from the poor font selection, application of Occam's Razor would reveal that a bill of this gravity would hardly make it through the various government channels necessary to make it law undetected. I think we can safely holster our weapons and put the rifles back on the gun rack since the author of this email clearly missed the target.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp">http://www.snopes.com/politics/guns/blairholt.asp</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2009/nov/02/chain-email/list-your-guns-your-1040-no-bill-never-passed/">http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2009/nov/02/chain-email/list-your-guns-your-1040-no-bill-never-passed/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-50723499427628802162010-11-02T12:45:00.000-07:002010-11-03T08:38:47.950-07:00Some Things Are Worth Repeating On this election day, November 2, 2010, we are reminded that we have the freedom to elect those who represent the people's voices for our government. Sure, we have more than our fair share of scandals and corruption, but overall, the system is a pretty good one because we do not fear persecution from the government while exercising our right to vote. This message is correctly attributed to Charlie Reese, a retired journalist, and was originally published in 1985.<br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> 545 PEOPLE--By Charlie Reese<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Politicians are the only people in the world who create <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>problems and then campaign against them..<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> You and I don't propose a federal budget. The president does.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>appropriations. The House of Representatives does.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bank does.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one president, and nine <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Supreme Court justices equates to 545 human beings out of the 300 <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>million are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for the domestic problems that plague this country.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>chartered, but private, central bank.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>reason. They have no legal authority They have no ability to coerce a <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>senator, a congressman, or a president to do one cotton-picking thing. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash. <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>determine how he votes.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Those 545 human beings spend much of their energy convincing <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>common con regardless of party.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> What separates a politician from a normal human being is an <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>deficits.... . The president can only propose a budget. He cannot <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>force the Congress to accept it.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>approving appropriations and taxes. It seems inconceivable <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to me that a nation of 300 million can not replace<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> 545 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people. When you <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>want to exist.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>red ..<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> If the Army & Marines are in IRAQ , it's because they want <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>them in IRAQ If they do not receive social security but are on an elite <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that way.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> There are no insoluble government problems.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Do not let these 545 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>power to regulate and from whom they can take this power. Above all, <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mystical forces like "the economy," "inflation," or "politics" that <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Those 545 people, and they alone, are responsible.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> They, and they alone, have the power..<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> They, and they alone, should be held accountable by the people <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>who are their bosses.<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> Provided the voters have the gumption to manage their own <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>employees...<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> We should vote all of them out of office and clean up their <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>mess!<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> What you do with this article now that you have read <br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it......... Is up to you.</span></div><br />
SLAYER'S RESPONSE:<br />
<br />
Once in awhile, an email circulates that is factual and correctly cited for its original source. Although some minor changes were made to the original text to make the message more contemporary, such as changing "U.N. Missions" to "the Army and Marines in Iraq", the message is mostly intact from its original state. The gist is that we the people are responsible to vote for change if we do not like the current state of the Nation. So, if you haven't voted yet, get out there and cast your ballot, or, if you keep your vote to yourself, keep your opinion to yourself after the election.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/reese.asp">http://www.snopes.com/politics/soapbox/reese.asp</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-64821047207310526922010-10-31T12:02:00.000-07:002010-10-31T12:02:21.828-07:00What is an Amrndment? This particular email was received, appropriately, on Halloween, 2010. The gist of the message plays at the heart strings of responsible Americans as a call-to-arms to put self-serving politicians in check. Research on the 28th Amendment (proper spelling) reveals a Snopes article that refutes the claim in the email and other web pages that offer different proposed 28th amendments. <br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">TIME HAS COME FOR THE 28th AMRNDMENT [title copied directly from the email]</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">"The big question for the election next month is whether the voters keep their <br />
eye on the ball and judge candidates by what policies they advocate or whether <br />
they can be thrown off the track by red herrings. We have already seen in 2008 <br />
what can happen when voters fail to pay attention to a presidential candidate's <br />
track record, and let themselves be dazzled by rhetoric, symbolism and media <br />
hype." --economist Thomas Sowell<br />
<br />
<br />
The Time Has Indeed Come!<br />
<br />
Governors of 35 states have already filed suit against the Federal Government <br />
for imposing unlawful burdens upon them. It only takes 38 (of the 50) States to <br />
convene a Constitutional Convention.<br />
<br />
This will take less than thirty seconds to read. If you agree, please pass it <br />
on.<br />
<br />
An idea whose time has come!<br />
<br />
For too long we have been too complacent about the workings of Congress. Many <br />
citizens had no idea that members of Congress could retire with the same pay <br />
after only one term, that they specifically exempted themselves from many of the <br />
laws they have passed (such as being exempt from any fear of prosecution <br />
for sexual harassment) while ordinary citizens must live under those laws. The <br />
latest was to exempt themselves from the Healthcare Reform ... in all of its <br />
forms.Somehow, that doesn't seem logical. We do not have an elite that is above <br />
the law.<br />
<br />
I truly don't care if they are Democrat, Republican, Independent or whatever. <br />
The self-serving must stop.<br />
<br />
A Constitutional Convention - this is a good way to do that. It is an idea whose <br />
time has come. And, with the advent of modern communication, the process can be <br />
moved along with incredible speed. There is talk out there that the "government" <br />
doesn't care what the people think. That is irrelevant. It is incumbent on the <br />
population to address elected officials to the wrongs afflicted against the <br />
populace...you and me. Think about this...<br />
The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18 year-olds) took only 3 <br />
months & 8 days to be ratified! Why? Simple! The people demanded it. That was <br />
in 1971...before computers, before e-mail, before cell phones, etc. <br />
<br />
<br />
Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven (7) took 1 year or less to <br />
become the law of the land...all because of public pressure.<br />
<br />
I'm asking each addressee to forward this Email to a minimum of twenty people on <br />
their Address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.<br />
<br />
In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the <br />
message. This is one proposal that really should be passed around.<br />
<br />
Proposed 28th Amendment to the United States Constitution:<br />
<br />
"Congress shall make no law that applies to the citizens of the United States <br />
that does not apply equally to the Senators and/or Representatives; and, <br />
Congress shall make no law that applies to the Senators and/or Representatives <br />
that does not apply equally to the citizens of the United States ."<br />
<br />
<br />
You are one of my 20+.<br />
<br />
Keep it going. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">SLAYER'S RESPONSE:</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">If I were sending out a call-to-arms in a serious email, I may use spell check, an editor, a person to look at the title, or even a seeing-eye dog to make sure the title conveys the proper gravity I was looking for. However, what on earth is an Amrndment? Were you not able to afford more vowels for the title person-who-wants-to-make-big-changes? </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Aside from the title gaffe, the article seems to be well written and uses facts to warrant the claim. Facts, though, are generally true by nature, which helps to make them, well, facts. Snopes helped me to see that the claim of one-term Congressional retirement with full benefit is not possible and that the Healthcare Reform exemption is also not a true statement. In this game, two strikes, you're out. Unless you count the title, which makes at least another two strikes. My final word is to try spellcheck.</span></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/politics/medical/28thamendment.asp">http://www.snopes.com/politics/medical/28thamendment.asp</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.egreenway.com/28Amendment.htm">http://www.egreenway.com/28Amendment.htm</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5579508651182081450.post-38528668862042436892010-10-30T19:00:00.000-07:002010-10-30T19:00:33.917-07:00Five Minute Reseach Project Many people receive email and take the information contained within at face value. Perhaps this is because we trust the person who sent the message to tell us the truth, or maybe it is because it came from the Internet, so it must be true. The reality is that often these messages are either false or contain an amalgamation of truth and fallacy, which changes the validity of the content altogether. My mission as the Slayer of B. S. is to spend five minutes validating or debunking the content of some of these messages sent via email. What follows is an example of my research. <br />
<br />
THE ORIGINAL MESSAGE:<br />
<br />
<br />
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0in; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 0in 0in; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"><td style="background-color: transparent; border-bottom: #f0f0f0; border-left: #f0f0f0; border-right: #f0f0f0; border-top: #f0f0f0; padding-bottom: 0in; padding-left: 0in; padding-right: 0in; padding-top: 0in;" valign="top"><span>A student at HBHS had pancakes this week and it almost became fatal. His<br />
Mom (registered nurse) made him pancakes, dropped him off at school and<br />
headed to play tennis. She never takes her cell phone on the court but<br />
did this time and her son called to say he was having trouble breathing.<br />
She told him to go to the nurse immediately and proceeded to call school<br />
and alert the nurse. The nurse called the paramedics and they were there<br />
in 3 minutes and worked on the boy all the way to the hospital. He came<br />
so close to dying. Evidently this is more common then I ever knew. Check<br />
the expiration dates on packages like pancakes and cake mixes that have<br />
yeast which over time develop spores. <br />
. <br />
<br />
WARNING ABOUT Pancake Mix (and other boxed mixes) <br />
<br />
(maybe you already know this, I DID NOT !!) Talk about frightening. ... <br />
<br />
Throw away ALL OUTDATED pancake mix you have in your home, PLEASE! If<br />
you don't believe me, read this article and then follow the 'Link' below<br />
to SNOPES. Sorry to be the Grim Reaper of bad news, but I would rather<br />
have you ALIVE, besides a $2.00 box of pancake mix is NOT worth your<br />
life. <br />
<br />
P. S. You might want to tell this to your children, grandchildren,<br />
nephews, nieces and anyone else who keeps pancake mix in the cupboard. <br />
<br />
WARNING - READ ON. AND CHECK SNOPES TOO. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.snopes.com/medical/toxins/pancake.asp"><span style="color: blue;">http://www.snopes.com/medical/toxins/pancake.asp</span></a><br />
<br />
From Snopes: cause of death due to anaphylaxic shock reaction to<br />
molds. I recently made a batch of pancakes for my healthy <br />
14-year-old son, using a mix that was in our pantry. He said that they<br />
tasted ' f unny,' but ate them anyway. About 10 minutes later, he began<br />
having difficulty breathing and his lips began turning purple. I gave<br />
him his allergy pill, had him sit on the sofa and told him to relax. He<br />
was wheezing while inhaling and exhaling. My husband, a volunteer<br />
Firefighter and EMT, heated up some water, and we had my son lean over<br />
the water so the steam could clear his chest and sinuses. Soon, his<br />
breathing became more regular and his lips returned to a more normal<br />
color. We checked the date on the box of pancake mix and, to my dismay,<br />
found it was very outdated. As a reference librarian at an academic<br />
institution, I have the ability to search through many research<br />
databases. I did just that, and found an article the next day that<br />
mentioned a 19-year-old male DYING after eating pancakes made with<br />
outdated mix. Apparently, the mold that forms in old pancake mix can be<br />
toxic! <br />
<br />
When we told our friends about my son's close c all, we were surprised at<br />
the number of people who mentioned that they should check their own<br />
pancake mix since they don't use it often, or they had purchased it some<br />
time ago. With so many people shopping at warehouse-type stores and<br />
buying large sizes of pancake mix, I hope your readers will take the<br />
time to check the expiration date on their boxes. Also, beware of<br />
outdated Bisquick, cake, brownie and cookie mixes.</span><br />
<br />
<span>SLAYERS RESPONSE:</span><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">OK. I went ahead and read the ENTIRE Snopes article from the link pasted in the email. While there is truth to the scenario, the vintage pancake mix is really only effective as a poison for those who have allergies to mold. In other words, a yeast monster seeking to prey upon irresponsible shoppers will not grow in the cupboard from ancient pancake mix as the email would have us believe. So change the alert level back to green and pass me the syrup, it's breakfast time. </span></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02789087174321380627noreply@blogger.com0