“You nearly beat me that time William.”
“You’re very good Sir.”
“Sir…I like that…Tell me why you’re here?”
“I’m not sure Sir. I love this place. It’s just that, after you came to my house that night, I knew that I wanted to be with you. And I thought that you felt the same way.”
Bernie wheezed his way into the pub. He looked over and saw his pal Jamsie sitting at a table in the corner with a half drunk pint of lager. A full pint awaited him. He walked over, slumped down and gulped his drink.
Continue reading “The Girl Of My Best Friend by Hugh Cron – Strong Adult Content”
I wish I could switch off and not think. But I have to. I have to admit what I am, well what We are and I need to do something about it. But what the fuck do I do? I know what family and friends think. Not so much about Jill, but me. They think, fuck it, they know that I have a problem. I am in denial. Jesus Fuck! I’m into the fucking terminology already! Continue reading “The 14th Step by Hugh Cron (For Peter And Beth) – Adult Content”
Here we are again folks, we have followed on ‘Week 84’ with the logical, ‘Week 85’ We thought that was for the best!!
Well this was Easter week, which means some things to some and other things to others. My only thought is, I wish I could comprehend what type of reasoning allows kids to gorge themselves with chocolate. I don’t understand the relevance. Same with rabbits! Glad to see that some pet stores are not selling the poor wee beasties at this time of year to stop idiot kids getting them as presents from their idiot parents. Anyway, I can only hope that you enjoyed your holidays in whatever way you wanted!
We live in a sick world. No amount of our writing imagination could come up with such a sickness. From all of us here at Literally Stories we would like to pass on our thoughts to everyone affected by the events of the last few days. Just one observation when looking for blame…Only blame the bastards with the bombs!
Now folks…Week 66! Is that two thirds of the evil number 666? Or would that be 444? Or 44? I’m not sure! I have never attended a Christening in my life but if I had, I would have loved to write 666 on the kiddy’s head before the Minister / Priest got a hold of them…I don’t think 444 would have had the same effect!
Today I was pondering Bucket Lists as well as felt tip pens, tattooing babies and freaking out Vicars.
I know that there will be tears all round as you begin to realise that Mr West is tied up and not able to do this week’s round-up. There will be even more tears when you read this and realise that it is me who is filling in! Adam is excellent at tying up the weeks and giving us some excellent meaningful meanderings relating to the said week so I thought I would do the same.
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2015 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 46,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 17 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Analogy, an-al’e-ji, n. an agreement or correspondence in certain respects between things otherwise different. [Gr. analogia – ana, according to, and logos, ratio.]
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We all wonder whether our dreams have anything to tell us. At the same time there’s nothing so dull as hearing about someone else’s dreams. We all frequently wake up perplexed or even distressed by what has been going on in our minds whilst in the realm of Hypnos. My friend Harrison told me the strangest story, that concerns dreaming, saying that it was the most disturbing case he had come across in his profession, yet at the same time the most up-lifting.
They began to line up long before dawn. First in line was a man from Africa.
His name on the small yellowed sheet he had folded in half, then folded again and placed in the right front pocket of his pressed blue shirt was Mohammad Abbasi. The driver’s license in the brown fake leather wallet he’d bought from a man on the street had his name as Martin Fisk. So did the green card he’d paid fifty dollars for, too many years ago to remember.
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