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Trumpet's Haunting

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It is so many years ago in the year of our Lord 1871, and I’m still not sure what occurred on this estate during the early hours of that morning. An icy wind tore at the eaves and rocked the rafters like a dilapidated dinghy on the violent sea in the heaviest of squalls. Moans of pain filled the halls with torment and dread, for we all knew that death was coming for my beloved wife Gerda.

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Here Today, Guam Tomorrow

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Thursday, September 7, 1972 - NYPD Ninth Pct. - 2300 hours

“So tell me again, this time like you’re explaining it to a five year old,” Patrolman Lorenzo De Frenzo, Shield # 13077 said, staring at the man sitting on a broken chair in the 124 Clerical Room of the NYPD’s Ninth Pct. Station House.

Quinten Bialy started to explain his story again, as slowly and as methodically as he possibly could. Patrolman De Frenzo’s initial, professional and correct decision stood: “The missing person, a male caucasian, 30 years old, Bella Berousky, was not Quinten’s relative, but was his roommate, even so, Quinten could not report him missing.” That fact was already explained during the first minute of their encounter, re: NYPD Policy.

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The Place Beyond The Trees

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The beer left Jason parched and slightly dehydrated. He snatched a water bottle inside the cooler and sat in the lawn chair he packed for the night. The icy liquid soothed his thirst almost immediately.

Several minutes of watching the fire wood crumble advanced until his attention shifted to Byron creeping out of his tent. Byron was his best friend and fellow teammate from the varsity football team. He grinned at Jason and plopped in the chair beside him with a sigh.

“Can’t sleep?” said Jason.

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Where There's a Will

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“I wish the old bastard would die.”

“Don’t worry, he will.”

“Yes, but when?”

“Soon.”

“Not soon enough to suit me.”

“That’s your problem, you’re too impetuous.  You need to develop some patience.”

“To hell with patience.  I’m young.  I have needs.  I don’t want to wait for him to croak.”

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That Dude

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That’s the Dude right there

See the dude in the trench?

Yeah, that one.  Long, tan trench coat. Black slacks; hard-soled dress shoes; black, too. My man is wearing a beret.

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Dystopia

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Which is more beautiful a sunset or sunrise? I had often pondered that throughout my life. It is a subjective question. Every sunrise and sunset is different and varied in intensity of colors and cloud formations. The sun is setting now. To me the darkness that follows is like death. I pray to survive till the next morning's light, the birth of a new day.

Darkness.

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In the Best of Families

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“You could afford a really classy house now that you have Marianne’s share of the inheritance,” Donna said.  “Unless she comes back.”  Then she stopped.  Her hand hovered over the fireplace mantle before setting her glass of scotch on it.  “Ralph, what happened?  Your fireplace is gone.”

 

He shrugged.  “Before your sister left I told her I was going to brick up the damn hole.  Neither of us liked the soot, the heat loss, the smoke.  Guy down the street — Jason — did the work while we were away last weekend.”

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The Real Eternal Friday

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They decided to meet at the Chinese restaurant next door to the bowling alley, because the food there was great, and although the bowling alley hosted a league on Thursday nights and got super crowded, almost no one dined in at the restaurant.  Most of the business came from takeout orders, so the four of them could eat and talk in peace.

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I Got The World On A String

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Jonathan Fletcher, a retired WASP (White Anglo-Saxon) male, was driving his new Lexus listening to Rush Limbaugh. No matter what the left wing drive-by media reports, he believes El Rush-Bo’s concise analysis cuts right through their liberally biased anti American agenda. Jon relies on Rush to always use facts to fortify his beliefs. The ultra right wing toxic cocktail radio mixture of Rush Limbaugh and Michael Savage tides Jon over until he settles down after dinner to watch an evening of Fox (Faux) News. Needless to say, he was ecstatic when Donald Trump won the 2016 Presidential election.

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Who? Terry? An Empath?

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When Terry loudly exaggerated that phony Borinquen accent she never was obtusely obnoxious. When she was collared, she took it like a gentleman. With all due respect, he was a she until the cuffs went on. Transexuals or Transvestites couldn’t be arrested as their self identified gender. That was the policy in the 1980’s.

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