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Best Stories on the Web

When Attribution is Not a Challenge

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Shari met Johnny a long time ago. They knew each other through mutual friends. It was a casual and brief acquaintance, seeing each other at parties and infrequently running into each other on the streets of SoHo and Chelsea in 1990’s New York City. He wasn’t seeing anyone steady and Shari was in a dead end long distance romance with an artist living in London. They never “clicked.”

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The Final Straw

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Another patronizing laugh burst out of Greg’s mouth. “You are so useless, Bradley.”

“Stop calling me that,” yelled Bradley.

Greg rolled his eyes. “Like that will change the truth.”

Steaming, Bradley eyed the heavy ivory statue on his partner’s desk. “I have endured the way you kept mocking and disrespecting me for years. If you ever call me useless again, I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

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Miracle at Midnight

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Mike Feeney threw a lighted match into the rusted half-barrel of firewood he had scrounged from nearby abandoned buildings and watched as the flames grew. He settled beneath the concrete bridge that had become home, and tightened a tattered blanket around his emaciated frame. He knew the fire would attract other hapless vagrants, but he didn’t mind. Numbers brought safety, company and conversation.

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Carl's Heaven

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At ten o'clock at night, Carl Parris got out of bed and got dressed. After dressing, he took the gun that was on the dresser and checked the chamber to make sure the gun was loaded. "Perfect, I got a loaded gun, and now I have t' find someone to shoot," he said as he sat on his bed. Should I rob a liquor store? They're easy. Yeah, why should I make work for myself. Yeah, I'll rob a liquor store, and if I have t' kill someone, then I have t' kill someone. What I gotta do I gotta do."

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Shaking through Security

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Mullally was in uniform, his preferred uniform of blue jeans and Rutgers sweatshirt — a shirt loose enough to drape over his 9 mm Glock.  He could almost smell the object of his search, the inspiring and unique Grecian statue.  For something 12 inches high, it packed a million dollars per inch, according to the Newark Museum story in the Star-Ledger.

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Prisoner of Love

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Sometimes in that timeless space

Between lines etched in parchment

You return to me.

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A New Empire

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It was almost midnight, drizzly, with a mild fog.

Nicole sat with Ma Agnes in her farm barn house, waiting for Agnes’ workers to finish up. They’d been tasked to simply wrap the drugs up in black plastic bags.

Agnes couldn’t understand what took them so long. She grew annoyed, barking orders from her squeaky rocking chair.

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A Dash of Speilberg and Houston

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My client Vyra Vixel pays me quite well. She does not want to listen or can’t bring herself to understand that David Addley does not exist.

When I received the file from the previously engaged private investigator, I believed I could nail this guy. But now, no way. I went over everything the original investigator did, twice. And I constantly go over everything I’ve done. This guy never existed, I now finally realize that. This is truly a cold case with no suspect.

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Buffet Take-Out

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Most Americans have a highly neurotic relationship with food. Those who grew up during World War II will remember being admonished by their parents to eat everything on their plates. Why? Because there were starving children in Europe.

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Real Police

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It was another typical April 4 x 12 tour in 1989. The call came over the radio. “10-20-Burglary in Progress - 225 East 19th Street -  Apartment 6 B - Male Hispanic 20-30 years old - Green jacket, Brown Pants - Anonymous Caller.”  We were just around the corner and stopped the RMP a few doors down, walked to the building and saw him by the time we walked up to the second floor of the six story walk up.

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