“we were carjacked” (a story)

“we were carjacked!”

Recently on the news there had been a lot of stories about people being carjacked who drove Tim’s make and model. So instead of trading the car in and making the world just that bit safer for his wife and himself, he started creating the backstory of her murder. And making it worth his while for her to die.
He bought the insurance policies, had her draw up a will, and yeah he wrote one as well. They were each other’s beneficiary. He picked three black actors he could easily distinguish from each other and memorized their description. Then set out to find a place that had no CCTV. And was pretty deserted after dark.
When he had it all ready, he asked her out on a romantic evening to celebrate the impending birth of their child. He prepared her fave foods in a picnic and put in a bottle of non-alcoholic wine. They went to the park first and properly ate and drank. And he repacked the detritous and put it in the car. He kissed her glowing, happy cheeks and drove them to their date with destiny. And he killed her, just because he wasn’t ready to be a father. And in his mind, this was the way out of it all.

“there was a break in” (a story)

“there was a break in”

Perry called 911. He had worked himself up into a panic-sounding voice. So he was sure it’d sound right to the operator, and even on tape. He read the script he had written with the guys, before the call was made. They role played the questions most likely to be asked several times. So he didn’t sound wrong, and didn’t forget any of the key facts they had agreed to.They had each read it several times, so it sounded like the way they would actually talk, if afraid or upset. And he was glad of their help. It sounded just right to him. So he picked up the phone… The closest friend to him punched him in the stomach so he sounded awful when he spoke…

“911, police fire or ambulance”

“ohmigawd oh migawd. She’s dead. I found her dead! I don’t know what happened to her! … My wife! Oh gawd please help!”

“Can you give me the address, sir?

“my house! It’s on Elm Street. The south corner of Maple and Elm. Number 185. Hurry please. oh gawd! Please hurry, I don’t know what to do!”

“Officers and an ambulance have been dispatched, sir. They’re on the way to you. Stay on the line, sir.”

“She was so beautiful (sob), so full of life (sob), why would someone hurt her?”

“Was she alone? Was anyone else with her? Is she the only one hurt, sir?”

“Yes! Ohmigawd. I feel so sick, so dizzy. I feel faint…” (line goes dead)

Operator tries to call back several tiimes as he thanks his friends and lets them out the back door, before the cops get there.

drums (a story)

[drum 1][https://youtu.be/VpIhbDN58mA]

You would think that drums would drive someone who was high energy, hypersenitive crazy. But they didn’t. It was almost noise cancelling. All Jorge had to do was turn on something that was heavy with drums and bass on high on his stereo, and his body would start to move. His thoughts would shut down. His feelings would close down. And he started to dance like a dirvish. Step by step. Round and round. Till he became dizzy with the motion and speed.
[drums 2][https://youtu.be/LMQ8sSvqphg]
Jorge coud march and feel the same soothing flow of beat and rhythm. Just a repetitive, fast movement that made him focus on his body, instead of his mind or heart. And he could shut the world away till peace was restored. Till he could put things back into perspective. All he needed to achieve that peace, was an empty house and the stereo on full blast. The bass shaking the floor boards, it was on so strong.
[drums 3][https://youtu.be/8aQmJaSTSJ8]
And by the time Jorge’s wife got home, he was ready to throw her to the ground and have his way with her. So she happily left the house for an hour or so, when he said he needed to unwind. He was so much better with her and at work as well. More patient and he listened more when someone needed to talk to him.
And he slept better too. He didn’t have running dreams, or raging nightmares. And he’d just lay his head down and was out cold. Like he hadn’t slept since he was a kid. The sleep of the blameless and innocent. No weight of the world on his shoulders. And no migraines. It drove her crazy, which is why she left, but it worked for him.
[Metallica – Eue of the Beholder][https://youtu.be/qTPPXvigm-s]

patrol (a story)


Every single day, in the morning and at night, Derek would walk around his lot. Checking to see how things were. At all four corners, he’d pee in the dirt and cover it with a trace of mud. Just enough to keep the pee where it was. Then he walked back to his house and had something to eat. He loved good prime rib or a good pork chop, with the occasional fish or chicken. He didn’t mind some peas or corn with it. But nobody could make him eat a salad or soup. No matter what they told him was in it. He loved ice cream as dessert, or something with nuts in it. It was the perfect way to eat thru a day. And he enjoyed it. Though he had a lot of burps and butt wind and it took a couple days to get the poop out.
He spent his day scratching, rubbing and licking himself. And couldn’t seem to stop himself.
He humped against the bed and his wife whenever he got a chance.
Every now and then, he coughed up a hair ball… but that didn’t stop him at all. He was used to dealing with it after all. He just drank more water, to soothe his throat afterwards. And nothing seemed to stop him from upchucking every day. But he enjoyed his food so much, that nothing could get him to change his diet. And nothing could make him go to the doctor. Not even his wife!
Even when the chest pains came on. Even when he couldn’t pee for two days. Until he passed out and was dragged to the doctor, whatever he wanted.
Kidney stones… of course!
So Derek had to spend the next few days trying to pass the stones. It hurt like a bugger! But they finally came thru and he went back to his old ways. It wasn’t enough to stop him. Maybe he was a fool?
You’d think I was talking about a dog, right? Nope! Derek only had two legs. He just was … unexplainable? Himself? 😛
Derek’s wife was ready to get a divorce, except he was good for a lay. And sometimes that was more than enough. Amiright?

the “bloodhoud” (a story)

The “Bloodhound”

Sylvie’s perfume company employees called her that or the “nose”. She knew to almost the oz how much water or ethanol you used in the perfume recipe and if the base was sandalwood or musk. She could tell you if it was eau de toilette or cologne just by you walking into a room she was in wearing it. She knew which company made the perfume and at times could tell you which perfumer was it’s designer.
Her nose was so sensitive that she couldn’t tolerate a crowd and rarely went to her own company’s headquarters because it interfered with her scent. She worked in a well ventilated area of her home.
The only people who could understand what Sylvie went thru every day were people like master chefs. Or people with allergies. She hardly ever went out and when she did, she shielded her nose with vaseline or a mask. She could tolerate the looks she got better than the horrible after effects of a migraine from all the scensory stimulation of the scents. It made her ill to be around a lot of people with scents on.
When she did take a lover, they went thru her decontamination process before they entered her house proper. Showered twice and changed clothes. She had scent-free products for them to clean themselves with. Usually made with plain glycerin.
Sylvie had candles made of a hint of nutmeg and ginger in paraffin wax. She could tolerate them for the hour tops a lover was in the house with her. For dinner (usually chicken) and maybe a quick make out session. Or a glass of dry white wine and a longer sex session. But by then their sweat and other body odours got to her and she had to ask them to leave. They went to her house. She never went to theirs.
She cleaned her house with scent free cleaners or plain vinegar and baking soda.
It was almost like she lived in a “clean” room.
Sylvie took several showers a day because she couldn’t stand the smell of her own body odours.
Her family had tried to prove she was crazy because of these things, but had been unsuccessful. She no longer gave them access to her life. She didn’t trust them anymore. Who could blame her?
So other than the occasional lover, and her delivery man who brought her supplies for her perfumes and her groceries, she hardly ever saw anyone or talked to them face-ro-face.
But Sylvie was self-reliant, so she didn’t really care. She hummed and sang to herself as she worked and lived a happy life, for her. Though it might have driven anyone else crazy.
Can you imagine? It was a good thing that she had something she could do to provide for herself. I guess you have to adapt.

Cara’s Path (a story of fates)

[Legend of the Seeker][https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legend_of_the_Seeker]

Cara Mason’s beginning began as it should, whether or not the world was dying. She was born into a small village with a mother and father who loved her, and an older sister who adored her. Even after her mother died, things might have remained decent. The village would have rallied and perhaps her father would have remarried to a good woman who would take the girls into her heart.
Cara was smart and beautiful. Had she remained in the village, she probably would have gone on to marry and have children. Staying close to her family. Perhaps teaching.

Had she had ambition and faith, she might have had the powers looked for by the Sisters of the Light, or the Confessors. That could have been her role into the Seeker’s life. She would have been adept, but not as hard as she seemed to need to be to protect him and her travellor companions. If she had, perhaps she could have taken a mate and had children or helped out with the special children with powers.

She could have had a life of innocence and goodness.

But instead, she was kidnapped by the Mord-Sith and trained into the paths of pleasure and pain. She was broken, but not brittle. Somewhere in her she knew goodness, even though she was disillusioned by the Mord-Sith. Even though she thought her only surviving parent had betrayed her and sold her to the Mord-Sith. Even though she had been tricked into killing her father because of what she was told as a young child. Who, as a young child, had sat in a cell. Terrorized by rats and the pain of being trained. Till she became acclimatized to the group and her handler.

She was also raped and impregnated by the ruler of her land. She was convinced this was an honour to serve him so. Her child was taken from her. Yet she managed to keep a core of herself as idealistic and ready to be re-shaped by good when she learned the truth. When the tale was retold so she could keep attached to her loved ones, she still had heart enough to find friendship and love on the quest.

And had Leo remained the seeker, she might have gone on to serve and love him, till the Lord Rahl was vanquished and the Stone of Tears sealed the rifts in the world and defeated the Keeper’s plan.

Had Cara become bitter though, she might have joined the Sisters of the Dark and served the Keeper. Then if she had joined the quest, it might have been to scheme against it’s success. Instead of respecting Richard and Kahlan’s love, she might have seduced him. Which might have sabotaged their quest many times over. Because at the end of the day, love often won when good sense, magic and fighting proficiency weren’t enough. And that one different thing might have seen the Keeper win the day.

There were so many things that could have gone differently for Cara. And though she could have been a dark character, she was passionate, loyal to the right things and people, and had a moral code beneath that made her a loveable character. In many ways, I identified more with her than with Kahlan.

What do you think of her?

Politics in Ontario – June 7, 2018 election

Politics in Ontario – June 7, 2018 election

The next few years here are going to be fascinating to watch,… if you have a dark sense of humour. 😛
On the majority side of the govt, we have Progressive Conservatives. The idiot dead mayor (Rob Ford- you may have heard of him. Even American comics were making fun of him) of Toronto’s enabler brother (Doug) is now the premier. We might get a sense of what you poor Americans are going thru with Trump. (sniffs tears away) So PC has a history of supporting big business. Right? Last time they were in power in Ontario their party cut social funding programs to the point where their premier earned a nick name Mike “the knife” Harris. When he finally lost his seat, he lost his wife, and his party leader status. (snickers) and moved out to BC. Good riddance!!
On the opposition side, we have the New Democratic Party. we have Jameet Singh. I don’t really know much about him as a person… But he is in for it. PC is known to have an intolerant history. 😦 NDP is the party for union shop people. The big unions, so we’d be talking steel workers, nurses, teachers… you get my drift? If they were in the USA, they’d be the ones hooked up to the mob. Interesting timing here, considering we’re renegotiating NAFTA, ya know? Trump doesn’t want to spread his ideas about steel costs here now. NDP has JT’s back! So one side, business, the other side, labour. Sadly Trump and Ford are gonna be besties on women’s issues. 😦 Sighs, that’ll teach me for laughing at my American friends 😦
One side the knife policies, and the other, union and social issues. Bob Rae was the last Ontario premier from NDP. He made it thru one term. He tried to spend so much money on social programs, he almost bankrupted Ontario, the richest province in Canada, j/s. He went on to sit on the board of regents on a REALLY feminist univ in Ontario. YAY BOB!
So again, the parties are polar opposites.
I have this mad urge to watch question period now. Ever seen a dog and cat fight? Yeah you think it was bad before!!
Mortal enemies hit the floor of the house! News at 11!! For 4 years! Why do I have a feeling that someone is gonna bring a gun to work one day? 😛

Sighs. MsP needs to relocate. Anyone got an apt and a job? I’m thinking Europe. I aint going to USA either!

(grabs the tissue box and watches a movie till I stop giggle-crying)

Shambala (a story)

[Three Dog Night][https://youtu.be/szm_SbNmK6s]

I walked up the hill, into the low mountain pass. Beyond the skeletons and camp debris. I slowed my breathing down and meditated to be calm. OHM!
I had my eyes set on the prize. The lotus city of dreams. Where the adepts resided. I was on my way there to take up training in how to find my inner being. To focus on my journey. To just be.
I walked further and went into the higher pass and saw the tip of the temple.
I became excited again and had to stop and clear my mind, so I could breathe better as i travelled thru the high pass. The sherpa behind me seemed concerned till I managed to breathe properly again.
We continued.
Finally we came to the steps up to the main doors of the temple. We were met there by the acolyte. And the sherpa was given sustinance and sent to rest before he went back down the passes. He wanted to get there before dark. To spend the night in his own bed.
I couldn’t blame him. But now i was safe and comfortable and ready to begin my training.
The acolyte smiled at me. He knew exactly how i felt. It hadn’t been that long since he had arrived at the doors.
He kindly showed me where i would be staying. I unpacked the few belongings that I was allowed here and fell on my knees beside my cot.
I had arrived.
OHM! I drew peace and contentment in and out of my heart and lungs.
Tomorrow my life would begin anew.

[Three Dog Night][https://youtu.be/szm_SbNmK6s]

parable on empathy

Parable on empathy – the seed, the dirt, the sun and the drop of water

When a child is conceived, they begin picking up a seed, some dirt, some sun and a drop of water everyday, if they have a perfect life. Some children are born poor or have disenfranchised parents. Some have only one parent. Some have addicted parents who become abusive or neglectful parents. Some aren’t raised by their biological parents. Some are orphans. Some are separated from their faith, race and culture. Some have difficulties grasping knowledge and language. Some have perception challenges.
Some work harder to overcome their challenges, some give up, and some tread water.
So the seed, the dirt, the sun and the drop of water that are portioned perfectly, if you have a perfect life, are no longer portioned properly. And their chances and choices within their lives are diminished. Or they are poisoned.
The child who has an imperfect life is blamed by the people in their world. Especially those who have been given perfect portions of each every day. And by those who got given what they lacked themselves. Because they have no empathy. They have never had to falter or do without a need. So they don’t know what it feels like. They don’t know how easy it is because of one misplaced element to have their life screwed up. Without that extrapolation, they cannot put themselves into someone else’s shoes.
And in that lack of empathy, the world becomes colder and harsher everyday. Until empathy is gone.
The aim isn’t to take what little they do have, but to replace it so the family and culture thrive. Yet the world continues to deplete options rather than support those who seem feeble.
The world is the most lacking in empathy of all, not the individual that is claimed to be.

my fave tastes of summer

[Summer Breeze][https://youtu.be/ED6z9He07ks]
My fave way to spend the summer is by the lake. Bit of fishing, tennis, table and court, golf, hiking, swimming, campfires… and eating! I love to gobble and bite, nibble and suck, lick and … well you get the point. Right? Or do you?!
I love the texture of first a pop in my mouth, then something liquid or pulpy but soft in my mouth. Pressing my teeth into the flesh untill finally it releases and lets me chew. Until there is nothing left but mush in my mouth. That I can’t resist swallowing. I have no choice!
From the time I wake up and smell the first meaty flavour to the time I go to bed with a creamy taste on my tongue, I chew and swallow. I am omnivorous!
The first serving in bed, to the walks to find quiet places to commune with nature. To finding hidey-holes where I can fill my senses with delights.
In the woods or a nearby farmers field. By the shack where rainy days are spent, or the small church for the faithful. Near the golf cart shack or the bushes by the tennis courts, where boys and girls often meet to flirt. Or on the sandy beach by the lake where the stalwart fishers get up early to catch lunch.
So many places to be in the midst and so many where I can be alone with you and have it be unknown. That I have my mouth, my tongue, and my teeth all over you. Till you are used up and gone… And I am replete for a little while. A very little while.