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The Hidden Fortress
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…and I’m an alcoholic.


I think about it all the time. I dream about it.

I wake up and I need the first drink to get me going. I need it to get me through work. I need it when I go out, otherwise I’m a social incompetent. I can’t function without it.

I don’t care what it is – gin, beer, ethanol… it’s all the same when I drink it.


Alcohol in the bloodstream. In excessive amounts. Blind drunk, ideally.

The taste in my mouth, the rush as it hits.

So I bite drunks.


Live on blood, thirst for alcohol.

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Another Valentine :heart:


I had to see you, before I go…


We’ve both been through a lot…


You don’t remember me, do you?


But I remember you – how could I forget… I never believed in love at first sight, and then - there was you. And I was irrevocably lost…

But you didn’t feel the same and it couldn’t last. You went your way, and I mine.


I didn’t know how ill you were.


You don’t know about the lorry, the dark, and the wet road.


I gave you my heart, again.

And you can’t give it back, this time….


Look after it…

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Ticket to Ride


“Finally WON the sucker!! 2 bucks a week for toofrickinmany weeks, and now, it’s all mine!!!”


She cut off a numb-nut turtle in the fast lane, “It’s just a bitch that I have to drive to the damned lottery office to collect it!”


She floored it. “I can AFFORD the ticket! I can AFFORD it if the insurance assholes DO raise my rates!”


Since she could also afford the ticket for not wearing the anal nanny-state required seatbelt, she was ejected and killed instantly when she hit the stalled semi.


Her purse, winning ticket still inside, burned in the wreck.

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Home Run


The other old broads were fussing and clucking about it on my bus:


“I saw it on the internet, can you believe it? A mother . . .”


“Sentenced to three months for taking a baseball bat to a registered sex offender talking to her daughter?”


“Just last week, they found the body of that other little girl . . .”


“What is this world coming to when…?


“She had no right to take the law into her own…”


Maybe not, but this old broad’s getting in her car at the park-and-ride.


And driving down there to shoot that judge.

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Our world is dying. Seas dry up, air runs low. We strip-mined the land, wore it out with super-crops, took until there was nothing more to take.


Now we look elsewhere. Tomorrow, a craft journeys through the void to our nearest neighbour – a savage planet that we cannot live on unaided. So we send our seed – the basic blocks of life, to grow with that world and change it, change with it, until a new race, children of our lost children, looks at the sky and wonders.


One day, will the rulers of the third planet return to the fourth?

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It was a dark and steaming night, in the sultry season of the monsoon - the moon was a Cheshire Cat Crescent in the glowering sky when the musclebound, azure-eyed blond burst into the august premises of Dobbit & Huck, the notorious cacao heiresses and investigatrixes extraordinaire.


“I need help …”


“So I perceive by the dripping, unfashionably-cut mane …”


“Who made you Holmes?”




“Which one?”


“Ladies, this is deadly serious…”


“Damned straight, no more Watson for me…”


“Watson was straight?!?”


“Very funny.”


“Not especially!”


“Well, that’s another fine client you cost us.”


“He’ll be back for the chocolate.”

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