Xius waved at the family driving away in their BMW M3—it had license plate frames from his cousin’s dealership—with their brand new Fénixrolled up and strapped to its roof. He locked his showroom’s front door, hit a switch, and the sign reading “New and Used Flying Carpets!” flickered out. Sighing as he tried to ignore the worn linoleum, and the faded map of the world, marked with places such as El Dorado, Xanadu, and St. Brigid’s Well, he gathered together his receipts—paperwork would take him about two hours, he figured. He smiled as he thought of his daughters nagging him to get a computer, but he didn’t see the point, now—he had been at this for almost forty years, and every day seemed as if it might be the last.
At what point, the man wondered, does semi-light become semi-dark. It was, he recognized, his first intriguing thought of the day after sitting immobile at his desk for hours with legs tightening and stomach growling. And the idea had only come to him after looking out his window and noticing that the sun was beginning to set. So it was becoming semi-light. Or semi-dark.
It was a cold day in the Tonopah Basin. Ground temperatures hovered near freezing. Even seasoned Nevadans found such days eerie; frightening almost. The sun still arced through the sky, the desert looked as it did on the days it was baked, but William Navarro’s breath had condensed during his last refueling stop. It was as if the air had been shifted one world over, destabilizing the familiarity of the landscapes through nothing more than a drop in temperature.
Forget George and Martha, Bill and Hillary and even JFK and Jackie–and although Eleanor Roosevelt was a winner, there was a tremendous distance between her and FDR that was probably enhanced by policies rather than feeling. No, for me the most interesting relationship between a husband and wife who at one time occupied the White House was that of John (1735-1926) and Abigail Adams (1744-1818). They were married for fifty-four years (when such lengthy unions were common amongst people who managed to live long), and through their correspondences (which were required due to John having to serve the nation from afar) the reader is able to admire a loving relationship between two opposite personalities who met correctly on higher thoughts and had the admirable ability to like each other.
I was interrupted typing this as ‘Zulu’ came on the TV. It made me wonder what were the films that I’ve watched the most times. (A nod to Leila with a list!)
Off the top of my head and ignoring, ‘Carry On’ films which would win hands down (Especially, ‘Follow That Camel’, ‘Cowboy’, ‘Cleo’ and ‘Up The Jungle’) I thought of-
Zulu
The Count Of Monte Cristo.
Jaws.
The Poseidon Adventure.
Young Frankenstein.
Once Upon A Time In America.
Who Dares Wins.
The Towering Inferno.
Con Air.
A Night To Remember.
Expendables.
Wedding Belles.
The Omen.
Love, Honour And Obey.
White Heat.
…And I need to mention, ‘The Ministry Of Ungentlemanly Warfare’ as I know that will become weel watched!!
I’d be very interested to read your well watched films. Unless, that is, any have Tom Hanks or weeee Tom Cruise in them!!
I want to start with this posting by mentioning this Artemis shite. Our world is in turmoil. We have people being displaced through no fault of their own. There’s famine, destruction, shortage of water, disease, depravation, energy shortage, increasing energy costs and so much death.
…And what do the powers that be think a good way to spend NINETY THREE BILLION DOLLARS on??
…They wisely don’t think that they should use that money on famine, destruction, shortage of water, disease, depravation, energy shortage, increasing energy costs and so much death, no, they think it’s a cracking idea to have a jolly around the moon!!
What really bugs me is this. Since the waste of money was a success, what difference has it made to the plight of the good folks effected by all that I’ve previously mentioned – Fucking nothing!!
If the waste of money blew up at lift off, what difference would it have made to the plight of the good folks effected by all that I’ve previously mentioned – Fucking none!!!
Mind you…At least those astronauts friends would have been spared from ‘When I was in space’ shite-talk every time the fuckers opened their mouths!!
There was never a truer thing said when it was stated that they looked down on our world!!!
This is the first time I’ve ever said this but I hope it was all an AI hoax and some wee lackey has pocketed the fucking money. At least one person would be having a good time on it!!
I had a look and according to what I could see, seemingly, rocket fuel doesn’t do that much damage to the ozone. (If you believe what we’re told) This has to be true!! A mere seven hundred thousand tonnes of rocket fuel can only enhance the planet!! Not like a skoosh of deodorant or a cow’s flatulence!
Another plus – I hope wee Greta had a sob!!! To me this is the first time that she’d have had a point!
This quote wasn’t for this complete arrogance of ignoring their fellow man, but I think it’s appropriate:
*‘Scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn’t stop to think if they should.’
All that money could have saved so many lives. Shame on all involved and all the fuckwits who cheered!!!
…The only thing that’s more expensive and more pointless is a war!
*Anyone know where the quote came from?
This song shouldn’t, but will always be ignored!
Talking about AI, we’ve had an issue here in Scotland with school weans. (Pronounced Wayne’s meaning children)
The wee delights have been using software and pictures of their teachers to make it seem that their teachers were doing things that only catholic priests can manage. They also threw in some acts of violence and other depravity. Certain teachers have had to take time off with stress. (Fucking wimps!) If we had that ability in our day, we wouldn’t have dared. Not through respect. Not through not wanting to but simply because we knew the teachers would have belted us into oblivion!!
That would be apart from Mr Heigh, he would have been more than happy to pose and come up with some artistic ideas!
Now onto this week’s stories.
We had two new folks who we welcome, a third timer and two well established writers of the site.
First up on Monday was the multi-talented Adam Kluger with ‘Swiper Alley’. This was story number fifty eight for him.
‘The mix of ordinary and extraordinary was well done.’
‘This easily won me over.’
That’s us for another week folks.
Keep doing what you are doing.
The comments were up five percent last month so all good!
Two things before some music.
Firstly – I need to give a nod to Rory McIlroy as he became only the fourth golfer to win back to back Masters wins. (Jack Nicklaus, Nick Faldo and Tiger Woods are the other three.)
And thank you Sky for your TV domination which stopped me watching it!!!
I’ve probably told you my favourite golfing saying many times before but since I haven’t pissed off the woke fuckers for a while, here it is again.
A short putt can be called a Rock Hudson…It looks straight but isn’t!
Secondly here is something that fucks up the idea that ‘they’ can be used as a pronoun.
A wee riddle to tease you.
Add one letter to two letters to change gender.
Add another letter to change it back.
Add another three to change it again.
Take away one and when taken, means you’ll not give a fuck who or what you are.
There’s no specific reason why I have chosen this piece of music, I think it was simply because I wanted something that’s more enhanced the louder that you play it!!
Lucy kept an eye on the man at the corner table. He’d glance at the front door each time it opened and then return his gaze to a book whose pages he rarely turned. He waited for someone.
Police had already handcuffed Roy Stafford and were placing him inside a cruiser when Susan Roberts arrived. Betty Stafford lay on a gurney that the EMS team hurriedly lifted into their van. Flashing her ID to one of the cops, Susan asked, “Where are the girls? Are they OK?”
Sometimes I don’t recognize good luck when I see it. For example, on Sunday morning, at breakfast, part of the filling in one of my back teeth comes undone. I crunch on the broken filling and spit it out, and after that, everything is either too hot or too cold to eat. And around noon, there is a little pain at the site of that missing filling.
You may have seen me. That is, if you ever look up into the airy spaces. Few do. Some look straight ahead into the distance, unseeing, sure of their path; some look down, watching out for things not to tread in; others glance sideways at pretty girls as they pass. Just occasionally a flawless morning or an irrepressible carefree mood will set the stroller’s eye a-wandering, and I may be taken in as one of several irritations on an otherwise symmetrical arrangement of planes and curves. Or the gaze may even rest on me for a moment, and the beholder wonder idly – such curiosity evaporates instantly – who I am supposed to be. Next time you pass St Paul’s on the south side, do look up. You will see five statues in various unlikely poses above a phoenix that perpetually does whatever a phoenix is supposed to do. I am the one on the right.
literally stories 