This site is a testament to not only my life but to the insanity of society. Dive into Psycho Carnival and you'll find tragicomic personal stories, wild yet honest rants, a little depravity, videos and a buttload of other goodies.

This site also contains adult like humor and ideas that could make you think. Consider yourself warned!

Monday, November 29, 2010

Always Look On The Bright Side of Life

When I'm in one of my deepest of deepest pits of depression, it's fucking hard, if not damn near impossible, to look at the bright side of life. I fell into one of those fucking pits over the weekend. Too much shit hit the proverbial fan, while tearing away at me like I was made of third grade toilet tissue. Normally, I'm fine with one crappy event dropping down on top of me like a two ton load of elephant dung. But not too fine when a succession of things hit me from all directions.

So this is what I have to do:

I have to step back, find a quiet place and muster all of my inner strength to find peace. Once I find that peace, I can clear my mind. Once I've done that, I can put things in their proper perspective. When I've achieved this, I can take it one step at a time and eventually recover from any bad feelings and work on the problem at hand. It's either that or go on a killing spree or worse.

When a string of bad to horrible happenstances keep pummeling you to the ground, so to speak, it's best that you try to step back inside your mind, maybe laugh at the sheer insanity of life and people in this world and attempt to realize you only have this one life to live and things may not be as bad as they seem.

That is, unless you're locked up somewhere with a lunatic who is cutting off your body parts, piece by piece. Then you're pretty much screwed.

In most cases, however, it is possible to find something to give you peace of mind, no matter how bleak things seem to be. Even if you can't always look on the bright side of life, you can, with inner persistence, find a glimmer of light in the dark woods of hopelessness. And once you find it, you'll find yourself at the beginning of a path leading to a life worth living again.

This video clip and scene from Life of Brian always makes me laugh. It's always been one of my favorite scenes from any movie. I mean, here they all are, being crucified on their crosses, yet they're singing this happy little ditty of a song. It's absurd, just like life and death are, if you think about it, yet they're all just whistling and singing away.

And why the hell not? It beats dwelling in the pits of depression. Play it and sing along, won't you?

Ending scene from the Monty Python movie, Life of Brian

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Black Friday Stampedes

Ah, it's that time of year again. You can smell it in the air. Could that be Holiday Cheer?, you ask, naively. No, that isn't it Holiday Cheer, friends, neighbors and virtual pals o' mine. It the smell of huge corporations like Walmart and all the rest of the huge chains exercising their stranglehold on the public's addiction to material things with their horrific onslaught of Black Friday advertisements, urging everyone to cram into their store fronts and aisles, crushing one another during the annual American Consumer event.

There will be lines aplenty of the crazy, waiting outside the doors of these stores. Some idiots will be willing to stomp on a face or four to latch onto whatever they are getting a hard on (or if you're a woman- a wet on) for. Every year, it's on the news about someone getting crushed during the Black Friday event.

I really think it's a joke when some stores say they've taken the necessary steps to ensure public safety but they don't, really. A couple security guards at either store end isn't going to cut it. People will rush like rabid bulls. When I worked at Walmart for 3 years, all I could see that they were really making, instead of safety steps, were huge Christmas tree obstacles and sprawled out "consumer-unfriendly" displays of sale items to be put in the way of customers when they rushed. It's almost a guarantee that something stupid is going to happen.

Customers, overzealous and seething with madness to get a cheaper deal, will trample each other to get what they want. This is known, at least in America, as "Getting Into The Christmas Spirit".

Tomorrow morning, it is supposed to rain and snow around four in the morning. At that time, consumers will be lined up at the doors, colder than fuck and salivating at the chance to get their monkey paws on whatever shiny object will create euphoria for the moment. Could be the latest electronic whatchamicallit gadget. Could be a cheese grater/foot massager combination thingy. Who knows?

I think I'll get up in the morning just to get in the car, go to the stores and throw buckets of cold water on the lines and throngs of people. Couldn't be any worse than the usual "Christmas Spirit' exemplified.

Happy Holidays! Happy Spine Crushing! And don't forget to sodomize your fellow consumer with a broom handle for whatever it is you want at the store! Or bash in their skulls with a pretty snow globe with Santa in the center! Your choice. Spread the Holiday Cheer!

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

A Typical, But Not Completely, Typical Day

I woke up, today, around 11:00, after about fours of sleep. Seems like I can't sleep any longer than that, lately, without waking up from some strange dream. They're mostly "guilt dreams". I'm only theorizing about that. But I guess I've been burying my conscious and it only escapes during my sleep. This beast has been having it's fun with me for the past month and IT is getting mighty annoying.

Pop goes the nasty shit! It's running out of my mind's door! Unfortunately, it's still in my sleepy head, where it stays trapped. Fuckin' guilt! I liked it better when I didn't dream. A decent sex dream would be welcome, for certain.

When I'm awake, I don't think about anything "I believe" I've done wrong. Normally. But, like the therapist pointed out during one session several years ago... He said I persecute myself and think I deserve punishment for things I've said or have done towards people. He also said that I seem to have the tendency to formulate it in my head like whatever I said or did- to be blown out of proportion. He based it on things I had said, when I was around this or that person, from other sessions.

Makes sense. So now the shitty goop of misplaced or unwarranted guilt is popping up in my dreams. Ah, how nice. But I'm going to confront it head on and admit that I'm not that bad a person and carry on... Even if it takes a hammer to my head to knock the evil goop out my ears. I can't afford therapy at the moment, so I'm going to do battle with my stupid brain, by myself. Like Homer Simpson, I'm going to give it a good talking to and tell it who's boss. If that doesn't work, it's HAMMER TIME, baby.

As I was saying, I woke up, made coffee, petted the cat and put two Bacon and Cheese Hot Pockets in the microwave. Soon enough, I ate them and played my messages on the answering machine. One was from the wifey, telling me she made it to work alright. Good. Next, was the receptionist from my doctor's office. She was letting me know that my insulin pens for my diabetes came in from the patient assistance program. Definitely good news. They had messed up the order of insulin last time and if I hadn't caught that it was the wrong stuff-- when I picked it up from the doctor's office, I could have taken it home, injected it into myself and.... Who knows?

After that, I showered, made supper for later tonight and got my clothes on. That's right! I was cooking in the nude! Excited? No? Alrighty then. Anyway, while I was managing to cook up some Tuna Helper, the cat started going nuts when he smelled the tuna cans I was opening. He kept leaping on my legs as the cans slowly turned round and round the electric can opener. At one point, I thought he was going to strike at my lopsided nutsack and rip into it. Then my precious jelly beans would fall out! Then I would feel blue. My solution is to give him a can of Fancy Feast cat food in a can. It's something we give him as a treat, once in awhile. It says on the can that it is Whitefish and Tuna flavored. Ah ha... That will fool him, I think, patting myself on the back.

I set the bowl of juicy, succulent cat food down on the floor (are you as horny as I am?) and he eats it like a little piggy. His normal bowl of cat food is sitting there, halfway full, next to the water bowl. He's a spoiled little bastard. But then I feel sorry for him because he is our only "child" now. Mufasa, our eldest cat, died, recently. We only have Victor now. He's loving and playful and lonely. We plan on getting him a playmate after Christmas. It's too hectic these days and it takes patience to train a kitten, which is what we'll be looking for when the time comes. No pound kitties, though. We had extremely bad luck with that. That was years ago. Max the Cat was his name and shitting behind and beneath megaton furniture, for no good reason, was his game. Sometimes we didn't find his piss and shit surprises until it was too late. Almost needless to say, Max was returned before I could kill him. We gave him four weeks too many. If I wanted to clean up shit for longer than four weeks, I would have had a friggin' kid. No thanks. There's already enough breeders in this world as it is. Many of them aren't equipped with enough brains or conscious to do battle with themselves.

But, on the same token, responsible parents are just as easy to spot.

I say we give the rotten adults an abortion. Or... Any more than two kids, then you have to give up your genitals. Sorry. Rules are rules and we know how humans love their rules. Lap dog, over breeding imbeciles that don't put on their turn signal when they're changing lanes, by damned it! What was I talking about? Damn those voices in my head.

Immediately, when I finished cooking, I got dressed, brushed my teeth, put on my jacket and hat and out the door I went. I went to doctor's office to pick up the insulin pens, went to the grocery store to pick up lunch meat and bread, went to get monetarily raped at the gas station where the gas is currently at $2.85 a gallon and then I went back home. I checked to see if they got my insulin order right this time. They did! Jackpot! I get to live a couple more months. Hooray. And stuff. After putting everything away, I got back in the truck and drove to the park, with haste.

I had to get my daily park walking done in a hurry. It would be dark soon and wifey was going to be home in a half hour. I try to be there for her so I can be a good husband and not get a beating with the baseball bat. I'm so abused. OK. I might be exaggerating just a little. But she does confide in me that she would like to cut my dick off while I'm asleep. But strangely, that's not why I have trouble sleeping at night. By the way, I laugh when she says such things because I threaten to twist her nipple off now and then. It's like an ongoing comedy routine we have going on. 21 years. Quite healthy.

So off to the park I go. The first person I see is the guy by the athletics supply building. This building sits close to the tennis court that is hardly used and still looks new and the basketball court, nearby, that is the same way. The guy, I'm guessing, is the guy who takes care of supplying the athletes with enough balls and stuff to do their thing. The door was open, obviously, with a key. He looked at me, giving off a little vibe of nervousness. Maybe I imagined it.

All I've ever seen, as far as any games being played at the park, is two Pee Wee football games attended by millions of crazed parents and the other times when a couple kids were playing a few basketball games. Anybody else you see in that park are walkers, runners, people trying to fish at a lake without fish and the park employees. Maybe once a week, you'll see a cop car run through the park. If you wanted to, you could probably get away with fucking, sucking, fisting, lickin' the va-jay-jay and other horseplay down at the large gazebo by the lake without too much trouble. Party time.

Anyway, the supply guy at the building says, ""It's getting colder out here."

I say, "Yeah, it is."

Hell, I don't know what else to say. Supply Guy didn't give me much to work with. By the way, it was getting colder. It was about 45 degrees Fahrenheit at the time. For the rest of you, in other countries, I have no idea what that is in Celsius. I won't check, either, because I'm American and don't give a shit. I think that's the American Way. The metric system can go fuck itself, too. The last person who tried to teach me the metric system was a nun from the parochial school I attended. I rammed a pencil in her eye. Not to worry, though. It was a No. 2 Pencil. And she cried out, "Praise da Lawd!"

After walking the usual path, I find a second person. He is walking toward me from the other direction. He looks like he could be crazy. He's wearing a grey coat with a black sock cap on his head. So I nod to him and do what most folks do in that situation. I say, "Hi.", without really looking at him. He does nothing but nod his head, not wanting to be bothered by my evil, intrusive greetings and keep his hands in his pockets. I wonder if he's hiding Barbie Doll heads in his pockets. Then I wonder if they still have the bathrooms locked or unlocked up ahead in the yellow building. I have problems with my butt. It likes to shit. Although I'm not at the stage of routine adult diaper wear, I have had an accident at the park because they will lock them when it gets closer to winter. During that accident, it was so cold... The turds froze to my leg underneath my pants. Talk about feeling blue... and brown.

When I got home, I was able to shake a leg to pop the turdcicles from the very bottoms of my pants legs.

Minutes go by during my walk now. I have to stop every five to ten minutes because of my foot conditions. I have inoperable 2 and a half inch heel spurs (my feet have been X-rayed so many times, I lost count) and equinus deformity on both feet. The heel spurs have connected to the rest of the bones in my footsies. It's like walking on railroad spikes with misshapen, unbalanced feet. I've tried everything so spare me the advice that I've heard a billion times. Thanks, anyway, stranger. I've done my time with the fancy insoles, shoes and whatever. I've had almost thirty years of experience with it. But I force myself to walk short distances, anyway, because I still need to exercise. It's called perseverance, people. I was going to the gym almost every day for a year and a half and lost thirty pounds but that routine got fucked up during the continuous moving fiasco with my dad's old place that lasted 6 weeks. Now, I'm just trying to keep up with my walking routine.

Regardless, I see a couple walking their pet dog. It has a pink outfit on. I restrain myself from killing the couple. I smile, then say, "Hi. How are you tonight?" They say something back but it doesn't matter. I'm not listening. I'm still thinking of the poor dog in the pink cowboy outfit. As I walk further, I wonder if it's too late to limp back and bash the couple in their heads, thus freeing the dog. Then I think, Well the next thing to happen, if successful, would be the dog rewarding me, with it's rescue of it, by biting a finger off from my hand and taking my nose off my face. Oh well. I keep walking. No good deed goes unpunished. This has always been especially true, in my experience.

In conclusion, I struggle through the rest of my walk, make it home in time before the wife, serve her and I supper and watch a couple shows that we pre-recorded the night before. We talk for awhile. My wife goes to bed early. She's tired. It's getting busier where she works. And now, I'm typing on this keyboard and telling you I'm about to sign off. Who knows? I may come to your blog and leave a comment. Ah, can you feel the excitement?

Behold! You are at the end of this journey I took you on, brave soldier. You must celebrate by flagellating yourself. Or by fixing yourself a hot cup of coffee. Your choice. I won't peek.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Favorite Movie Quotes (volume one)


"Sometimes you eat the bear... Sometimes the bear eats you."

From The Big Lebowski

"We all go a little mad sometimes"

Norman Bates in Psycho

"Hey, don't knock masturbation. It's done with someone I love."

From Annie Hall

"Aristotle was not Belgian. The central message of Buddhism is not 'every man for himself.' And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked 'em up."

Wanda (Jamie Lee Curtis) from A Fish Called Wanda

"Wendy?...Darling. Light of my life. I'm not gonna hurt ya. You didn't let me finish my sentence. I said: 'I'm not gonna hurt ya.' I'm just gonna bash your brains in. I'm gonna bash 'em right the fuck in! Ha, ha."

Jack Nicholson in The Shining

"...I have nipples, Greg. Could you milk me?"

Robert De Niro in Meet The Parents

"Excuse me while I whip this out."

Cleavon Little in Blazing Saddles

"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tanhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in rain. Time to die."

Rutget Hauer in Blade Runner

"Greetings, my friends! We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friends; future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, the unexplainable; that is why you are here. And now for the first time we are bringing to you the full story of what happened on that faithful day. We are giving you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimonies of the miserable souls who survived this terrifying ordeal. The incidents, the places, my friends, we can not keep this a secret any longer; let us punish the guilty, let us reward the innocent. My friends, can your heart stand the shocking facts about the grave robbers from outer space?"

Plan 9 From Outer Space

"There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar trying to make up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening. The Korova milkbar sold milk-plus, milk plus vellocet or synthemesc or drencrom, which is what we were drinking. This would sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence."

A Clockwork Orange

"Norman. Come here. Come here, Norman. Hurry up. The loons! The loons! They're welcoming us back."

"I don't hear a thing."

On Golden Pond

"My precious."

Gollum from The Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers

"At my signal, unleash hell."

Russell Crowe from Gladiator

"It's a funny old world - a man's lucky if he gets out of it alive."

W.C. Fields from You're Telling Me

(This isn't from a movie but I thought it was funny and true enough)
"I feel sorry for straight men. The only reason women will have sex with them is that sex is the price they are willing to pay for a relationship with a man, which is what they want."

Stephen Fry, actor, claims straight women don't really like sex.

"Let's turn on the juice and see what shakes loose."

Betelgeuse (Michael Keaton) from Beetlejuice

"Have you ever had two people look at you, with complete lust and devotion, through the same pair of eyes?"

Maxine from Being John Malkovich

"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we have a full tank of gas, half a packet of cigarettes, it's dark and we're wearing sunglasses... HIT IT!"

From The Blues Brothers

Kirk: "What is this power you have to control the minds of my crew?"
Sybok: "I don't control minds. I free them."

From Star Trek 5: The Final Frontier

"There's no earthly way of knowing / Which direction we are going / There's no knowing where we're rowing / Or which way the river's flowing / Is it raining? / Is it snowing? / Is a hurricane a-blowing? / Not a speck of light is showing / So the danger must be growing / Are the fires of hell a-glowing? / Is the grisly reaper mowing? / Yes, the danger must be growing / 'Cause the rowers keep on rowing / And they're certainly not showing / Any signs that they are slowing!"

Willy Wonka From Willy Wonka and The Chocolate Factory

Pete: What's the devil look like?
Ulysses Everett McGill: Well, Pete, there are all manner of lesser imps and demons, but the great Satan hisself is red and scaly with a bifurcated tail, and he carries a hay fork.
Tommy Johnson: Oh no, sir. He's white, as white as you folks, with empty eyes and a big hollow voice. He likes to travel around with a mean old hound.

From O' Brother, Where Art Thou?

"What do you think you are, for Chrissake, crazy or somethin'? Well you're not! You're not! You're no crazier than the average asshole out walkin' around on the streets and that's it."

McMurphy (Nicholson) From One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Train Sets and Baskets of Stuff

We attended the Thanksgiving "feast" and celebration at the assisted living place where my Dad lives. For the most part, I thought it was a nice gesture on the caretakers' part to organize this for the families of the elderly living there and them, as well. This is the same old folk's home that I crashed my big white truck into months ago. You can read about that fiasco here, if you so like.

The happy ending to that episode is that my car insurance rate didn't go up, as I expected and worried about. A small miracle. I didn't think it should have, since what I bumped into was a narrow plastic pillar that would have crumpled in the middle if a flea had hit it.

This Thanksgiving dinner, provided by the assistance living staff came, with a stiff fee. I know that the fee likely won't be going to feed the elderly there. Normally, they don't get served much to eat on a daily basis, when family isn't around. I ate dinner with Dad there one evening and we were served, apiece, five cold, hard chicken nuggets, a tiny bowl of pinto beans and a few leaves of lettuce for a salad. That's part of the reason he likes going out to eat so much. We would move him somewhere else but every other place around here is worse than they are. There's other places in the area where the old folks are desperately trying to escape out of the place by scrambling out the doors almost 24/7. Then the guards come and put them in a big bag where they are never seen again. Poof!

Just kidding on that last bit. I know it's sad. Sometimes I'm just a bastard and stuff just kinda pops out of me like a mischievous little hamster rolling about inside the hamster wheel in my head. Oops... out the door he goes.

Shortly before this "feast", Dad and I made up, apologizing with words and hugs over the moving fiasco. That particular fiasco was a four and a half week ordeal that you can read about here, if you so like. He gave me a card, a big gift and more importantly, finally looked at the pictures and DVD we had taken of our (very likely) once-in-a-lifetime cruise. It was all very meaningful to me and because of it, we are on speaking terms again.

Now Back to The "Feast"

When we walked through the door and walked towards Dad's room (I didn't know where else to go since there was a mess of bodies walking, criss-crossing and stumbling (staff, elderly, family members). Everyone seemed to be in disarray or confusion, not knowing where to go or what to do. The head caretaker and supervisor of the place was selling off raffle tickets at a table in one tightly enclosed hallway and in another there were three long tables of homemade arts and crafts that the elderly inhabitants had created. Stuff like paper towel holders, knitted tambourine-like things, little dolls and other items I have trouble describing. I think I saw one of those nutcracker things with some ancient, brown stained dentures inside it's mouth.

See this thing below? Yes, that's made out of an aluminum can. That looks like something that could have been on that table.

My advice is to not stink your dingus into this turkey's mouth, not that I thought you're a bunch of freaks who would dare think about that.*


But if you did decide on doing something like that, causing your prick to be sliced off by the sharp can's mouth opening, please videotape the event so it can be put on a website for others to enjoy and that others can laugh heartily at your stupidity. Come on! Think of others this holiday season! Be a giver!

Next, we find Dad, find our table with our name on it and sit down. All seven of us. While waiting an hour for our food, Wendy (not her real name) the supervisor is yelling loud messages, EXCITEDLY, over the intercom about people who won a spiritual train set or a gift basket full of stuff OR SOMETHING EVEN BETTER.

All aboard for a choo choo train ride to Christville, everybody! Where there's good fun to be had by all, praisin' the Lawd Almighty.

Another example of something yelled over the loud speakers:


Or another:


Or another:




Before the food was actually delivered from tray to table, we were verbally forced to bow our heads and give thanks by saying the exact same words that the supervisor instructed us to say. Furthering that feeling of warmth and hospitality.

When the food finally came, it tasted alright. Nothing to brag about. The dressing was square shaped and resemble a brownie. The meat, I think, was turkey. Of course, it could have been a piece of old person, like in that movie, "Soylent Green".

The appetizers to the meal consisted of a warm biscuit and a small salad. The coffee served was cold, due to them making it too early with a coffeemaker that didn't keep the coffee hot. Oh well. I was just there to see Dad, spend time with him and get to say hi to a few of his cohabitants. You never know when you might see them again. They might make a successful escape that one time out of a hundred and try going into town and experiencing "life on the outside".... oooh.... ahhh.

Oops... He Lost His Hat

LilPixi's latest post inspired me to post this video clip. Check out her hilarious post and this video for pure entertainment.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Mr. Checkers Cranks HIS TALE

Along came the willow spider, black as coal, waiting to catch it's prey. Then along came the chirping ape. He giveth thee. Then came Joshua the human thing. He praises the name of Zolath, the great one with frosted beard. Then he took his family by the hand and went into the woods and ate bear.

and best of all


A treaty was set and the leopard ran. Others became suspicious and stroked themselves, furiously. Some mistaken a pencil for a pen. Some enjoyed catapulting fidgeting midgets over the iron gate for sport. Coincidence?

"Cast a harsh light on thy Esmerelda tree, will you?", said Joshua.

That's when the trumpets sounded and you could smell the joy in the air. Willy thought it to be a pussy fart.

The family set their sights on Eye Paddles and this time they meant business. Would there be toilet accessories or cat food? The answer lie in a single can of easy cheese.

tricksters all

The trees sing orange dreams and tease with pillow fighting. Suddenly, there was peace in the land again.

Joshua drove and pondered the meaning of the cheese, family in tow.

Strange Devices


Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The Amazing Pistol Shrimp

I was telling my sister about the "pubic hair" I found in my shrimp the other day and she eventually got on the subject of Pistol Shrimp. She saw a documentary on them on the BBC not long ago. When she told me about them, I couldn't believe how they killed their prey.

Here's a short description on Pistol Shrimp and a video clip of the show she saw on this odd marine creature:

Pistol Shrimp have one (Or sometimes two) oversized claw that create a cavitation bubble as it snaps shut. This bubble, very briefly reaches temperatures approaching that of the sun, about 4700 degrees Celsius. An incredibly loud "popping" noise is created, as well. The Pistol Shrimp is officially the loudest creature on Earth. The bubble they create stuns the shrimp's prey and allows the Pistol Shrimp to eat them.

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

I Found A Pubic Hair In My Shrimp

A couple weeks ago, my wifey and I went to our favorite Chinese restaurant/buffet and pigged out. We love almost all the food on their big buffet and look forward to hitting it up every so often. The food there is very tasty and they have a wide variety of seafood on the bar- always a plus with me, since I can never get enough crab legs and shrimp.

But, as things always seem to go, when you like something for a long time, something will happen that will eventually put a damper on it. In the case of eating at one of your favorite restaurants, that something could be bad service, cold food or being placed next to a table full of screeching monkey children that won't stop screaming like banshees.

That last one I mentioned is practically a deal breaker for me since I have a very low threshold for loud, needless noise and suffer from anxiety. The parents who allow this type of unacceptable behavior to go on and on without taking Junior or Juniorette out of the place so the patrons can have a nice, quiet meal that they're paying for, are the ones who need to be taken out to the woodshed and given a couple good whacks with a sledgehammer and a poke with an electric cattle prod, for good measure. The parents could, at least, put a sound-proof muzzle on that adorable, shrieking child-thing of theirs. I won't call it child abuse or call the authorities on you if you do it. If fact, I'll slip you a few bucks to go to the nearest pet store so you can pick one up. Who says I'm not a giver?

Bad service, if it is kept to a minimum, is something I can handle if it only happened once or twice during the dozens of times I've gone to a certain eatery. Cold food- the same way.

But this time something different happened. This time, I went to the buffet bar and brought back a plate of breaded shrimp and boy, did they look good- until I happened to notice a long black pube sticking out of the tail end of one of the shrimp. The slightly kinked hair was about 2 or 3 inches in length and it was in there, stuck very securely. I tried pulling it out, using a napkin and the damn thing wouldn't come out. Now, I know it wasn't mine. I have brown hair. And I know it wasn't another customer's. Who would, after all, take the time and trouble of plucking a single hair off their head and pushing it deep in between the shell end of the shrimp and the meat of it and then putting back into the tray with the rest of the shrimp?

Especially, when they would be easily caught by every other patron, scrambling around, dishing up food on their plates?

No, that mission would be too tough to accomplish.

Look closely at the pictures of the shrimp and questionable hair, click to zoom in and speculate amongst yourselves. This is a real detective's case here, I tell you. One for the books. I ended up wrapping the shrimp up in a napkin, took it home with me and photographed the evidence. I had to throw it away, not long afterwards, because the cat was trying to get at it to eat it and I didn't want him to gag and choke to death on the pubic hair. How would I explain that to the vet?

After all, I didn't want the vet to think I was forcing my schlong down into my cat's mouth and a pube came off and somehow lodged itself in his throat. You have to worry about things like that, you know.

I say the hair/culprit came from the kitchen where the Chinese cooks were cooking the food. I don't know for sure it was stuck firmly in the shrimp, intentionally and I'm not sure if it was a pubic hair, either. When I showed it to my wife, she gasped and then asked, "What is that?"

I said, "I think it's a pubic hair."

She replied, "Well that's gross, no matter which part of someone's body it came from."

I agreed.

Then we both laughed. Wifey asked if I was going to show it to the manager and I replied that I thought it wasn't worth it. The manager would probably think I put it there and the whole thing was too embarrassing to bring up. I'm sure it was an accident. I wasn't looking for a free meal on behalf of the manager or any other compensation that the manager might have given us. Being that this was the first time something like this had ever happened there, I let the matter drop.

Besides, it's not like I actually put the shrimp in my mouth. If I had, and discovered it rubbing against my tongue, I would have been incredibly pissed and went on a mad killing spree back in the kitchen. I would have bounded through the kitchen doors, unannounced. Throats would have been slit with sharp, handy knives. Screams would be heard throughout the dining area. And everybody would be sad. Except me. I would likely just be exhausted from all that hard work and need to drink some of that delicious green tea they have there to quench my thirst.

Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps, in a stretch of the imagination, a cook was mad at all of us American heifers, waddling our fat asses in the place and scarfing down rice rolls, dumplings, crab legs, Orange chicken and pubic hair shrimp.

Who knows? It gave me a topic to post about, anyway. That's the important thing.

Sunday, November 14, 2010

One Big Happy Planet

Luckily, I'm just a freak.

Friday, November 12, 2010



They dance all around with one foot on the ground
With their eyes on your "prize"
That turns to surprise
When they find out
What it's really about
And then it's too late
And then it's a shame
That they've shut

So you


Ya dance all around with one foot on the ground
Quietly hiding and not making a sound
Suspecting figures peek over to see
What you've been up to
And what you believe
Your business is theirs
And business isn't fair
If roles were reversed
Then they would care

So you


Fuck all ye fuckers
Who believe only what they see
Fuck all ye suckers
With only their eyes do they see
Fuck all ye preachers
Who push their beliefs
I have my own way
And do my own thing
I say what I say
And believe completely in me

As I


Thursday, November 11, 2010

Disturbing Trend of Small Town Crimes By Cops and Crazies

The folks in my surrounding area are getting a little too crazy... even for me. I think I liked it better when they were all just a bunch of boring, redneck hillbillies that just sat around drinking beer and renting DVDs for their weekend's entertainment. There was a time when our neighboring big city of Cincinnati was getting all the bad press and media attention for gang related murders and widespread police brutality toward innocent and elderly people. You know... The easier targets.

Now the small town area I live in is getting that kind of attention this year. Some of the news is even garnering national media attention.


In the town of Rising Sun, Indiana, a couple rinky dink towns away from me, a boy by the name of Andrew Conley, 18 years old, decided to strangle his 10 year old brother to death because he wanted to be like the main character in the TV show, Dexter. Dexter is a serial killer in the show and apparently, Andrew was a big fan. The news of the murder made headlines across the U.S. and everyone expressed disbelief it had happened in such a small town.

At the time of the murder, Andrew was 17.

Andrew confessed to the murder, while in court, very calmly and gave intricate details to the judge and the courtroom audience of how it all went down.

Andrew explained that he choked his younger brother while they were playing around and wrestling on the ground until the boy passed out. He said he then dragged his brother into the kitchen, put on gloves and continued strangling him for at least 20 minutes. Andrew then confided that he put the boy's head into two plastic bags.

A coroner testified that Andrew's brother, Conner, may have still been alive for minutes or hours after that point, but the bags helped suffocate him and Conley repeatedly banged the boy's head on the ground before loading him in the trunk of his car to make sure he was dead.

Conley told psychologists he had been unable to stop and felt as if he were watching the murder outside himself. But the judge said that despite contradictory statements by Conley, experts agreed that he still knew what he was doing was wrong.

The judge discounted Conley's claims of remorse as "superficial and not sincere," saying he could have expressed remorse when he drove to give his girlfriend a promise ring with his brother's body in the trunk of his car but didn't.

The judge also noted that instead of telling his father what he had done the following morning, he asked for condoms and joked with his mother and watched football all day. Conley also calmly remarked that he had calmly stood over his sleeping father with a knife and considered cutting his throat.

Conley, now 18, was sentenced a month ago to life in prison without parole. The prosecutor said he couldn't get the death penalty because he was only 17 when the murder occurred.

A Couple of Florence Nightingales

Then we have two cases of two head nurses in two different nursing homes that were arrested for selling drugs; pain medication, to be exact, that was meant to be administered to two elderly women who were both suffering from terminal illnesses. One elderly lady was on morphine for her horrendous pain. The other, on a high dosage of Vicodin. Both of them died in agony due to the head nurses using the medication that was meant for them and instead, selling their medication for profit.

Who's Going To Protect Us From The Cops?

Then there is the disturbing trend, lately, where the cops in this area of small, strung together towns are getting in trouble for some pretty heinous crimes.

In the town I grew up in, a former Assistant Police Chief has been caught, arrested and fined for pilfering money from the police department he worked at. No jail time, however. He had been a cop there for close to twenty years.

Still another cop has been suspended, temporarily, from the force for two instances of Driving Under the Influence and crashing into someone on the last one.

Yet another cop, in my old hometown, has recently been arrested for beating his wife almost to death and he has been ticketed and given a little fine for his actions.

Even the mayor of the town I'm living in now has recently been arrested for driving under the influence and crashing into a parked vehicle.

Saving The Worst For Last

One former Assistant Police Chief was arrested earlier this year. This former Assistant Police Chief of one of these small towns in a Indiana police department will spend the next seven years in prison. The cop resigned in April of 2010 after being arrested for solicitation.

Police say the veteran police officer was chatting with whom he thought to be a 13 year old girl, who was, in fact, an undercover police officer in Ohio. The former Assistant Police Chief, while chatting away with the "young girl", also exposed his cock to her by way of using his son's computer and the son's web cam. It was later reported that he had flashed his genitals on several different occasions to other young girls, by way of web cam, after law enforcement officials confiscated the computer and checked out the history and video files on the hard drive and talking to victims of whom he flashed.

The court was thinking about fining "Officer Pervert" a shit load of money on top of his sentence but they decided, in the end, to refrain from doing so because his wife and two sons would be the ones to suffer. His wife, of nearly twenty years of marriage, is barely getting by as it is because she works at Wal-Mart. You know... Wal-Mart. That's the place where they treat their employees like shit and pay them next to nothing while they face and deal with the general public every day- a fate worse than death. I know. I was employed there for about three years.

Also, on a side note, if any employee at Wal-Mart is caught or rumored to have spoken about this woman's ex-cop husband (yes, she is still married to him) and the crime he committed, they have been told they will be immediately terminated on site.

By the way, I have nothing but absolute respect for anyone having to deal with an ungrateful, cold blooded team of management and your typical asshole customers every day. Much more so than anyone else in any other occupation- with the exception of firefighters, EMT's and people who help others out.

"Officer Pervert", who is 52 years old, had been a police officer for 25 years. As of now, this scumbag, piece-of-shit ex-cop remains held at the Switzerland County Detention Center until he can be moved to a state facility because they fear for his safety.

Hopefully, when they throw his sorry ass in prison, he will be eligible for the special Seven Year Plan of severe, sadistic anal raping as a lesson in justice.

Let's collectively cross our fingers, shall we?

The popular expression in our area, nowadays, is this:

If you wanna get a job as a cop with the police department- it's easy... Just commit a felony.

The Truth

All cops are not heroes and that's a fact, but because of the myth that "all cops are heroes," there's minimal call for disciplining bad cops, and maximal call for "forgiving," and "understanding" the tough work of being a cop. To me, that type of allowance is terrifying.

Police work is tough, of course. It's among the most difficult jobs in the world, work that deserves our respect. And turning a blind eye toward police misconduct by allowing crooked, corrupt, outright criminal cops to have long careers in law enforcement only makes it more difficult and dangerous for the good cops.

Letting cops get away with crime, or "punishing" police misconduct with long, leisurely paid suspensions, or probation, or sweet deals that allow a policeman's own police record to be expunged, or any of the other special treatments cops typically receive when they're accused of wrongdoing, is asinine and counterproductive.

And really, the same goes for any authority figure. They should be held accountable and the punishment for any wrongdoing on their part should be swift and harsh just because they have been given the responsibility of either leading and/or protecting people in their charge.

If you wish, I will gleefully volunteer for the job of doling out said punishments. I can be quite creative, I cheerfully assure you. I am smiling quite evilly now, as you can imagine. And can you just imagine me in charge of punishing such offenders? What fun everyone would have!

In The End

It's been an exciting year in my neck of the woods thus far. I wonder what will happen next in my sleepy little town. It's always been a source of mild amusement for me when reporters come around and do their usual commentary during these types of reports, saying the same routine phrase, "Well, you wouldn't think it could happen in such a small town like this but "so and so" committed _________ (fill in the blank for whatever shocking crime you can think of that could happen in a burg like mine).

Monday, November 8, 2010

How Flexible Are You?

So the question I pose to you now, gentle reader, is this:

How flexible are you?

Which of these positions could you put yourself into?








Saturday, November 6, 2010

My Fart Gun Has Endless Ammunition

Ever since my significant other and I chowed down on four monster beef and bean burritos earlier today, we cannot stop friggin' farting. It's like my goddamn butt hole, which in our family, we call our Fart Gun, has an endless supply of ammunition. And these are above average farts, too. Long staccato puffs of methane gas are ripping out of my anus, even as we speak.

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to take a shit yet to help get some of these ass blasting clouds of death out of my bowels. Damn you, El Monterey burritos! Get the hell out of my belly! I think you're killing my cat!

My cat, Victor, has been hiding his little furry face in the chair next to me for hours now. I'm debating on whether or not to check his pulse. I don't see any part of his body rising or lowering to suggest he's still breathing. Hold on a sec and I'll check him out.

Hell, I didn't have to. My wife just cut the cheese, from the bedroom and prompted Victor to poke his head up in fright. Then he looks over at me as if to say, "Is the monster going to get me, daddy?" Before I could respond to his imaginary inquiry, I just blew out a slew of air biscuits, further scaring the shit out of him. I wish somebody could scare the shit out of me right now. I think it would relieve the pressure so I could feel better.

My blinking brown eye is nearly raw and almost bleeding from all the colon calamities that have ensued!

Unfortunately, I don't have any Gas-X pills or that pink stuff, Pepto Bismol. My bloated belly is so loaded down with windy pops and booty bombs that I think I'm going to explode. Lord, help me, please!

Oh goddamn it... There goes another one! What in the unholy hell of Sphincter Turbulence is going on here. Is there no end to this?

Friday, November 5, 2010

The Humor God I Am

Yes, I am The God of All That Is Humorous. Bow before me! Kneel before me and chuckle at my feet. No, do not chuckle at my feet because my toes are hairy or that my toenails are as long and lethal as Samurai swords. No, sirree. You must show your glorification of me as The God of All That Is Humorous by laughing out loud at my witty repartee, funny-bone-pleasing diatribes and my jocular, family friendly storytelling.

But please, whatever you do, kindly refrain from giggling at my spectacularly tiny penis.

Well now... What's this? Why it's The Laugh Out Loud award given to me by Gary, blog author of Klahanie. This charismatic genius of wordplay, humorous blogger and all around swell guy was also a worthy recipient of The LOL Award. I thank thee, Lord Of Laughs, for this most awesome of awards.

In all serious, I very much appreciate the award, dude.

When I was a complete newbie to the Internet, I wasn't sure what the fuck "LOL" really meant. In fact, I thought it stood for any of the following:

Lick-able Only Larvae
Little Old Lucifer
Lebanese Onanism Leakage
Little Old Lesbians*
Leaky Old Leper
Leathery Old Leg
Likable Odd Lech
Lederhosen Only Leisurewear
Little Opportunistic Leprechauns
Leathery Old Labia
Licker Of Lice
Lots Of Lupus

... and much, much more.

*borrowed from Gary (thanks, man)

I'm supposed to give this award to other bloggers that I feel are truly worthy recipients. So here goes...

The Wolf, blog author of The S.N.A.F.U. Report. This guy's humorous tirades are the stuff of legends. He'll make you bust your gut laughing or else.

Gorilla Bananas, blog author of The Japing Ape. This witty, storytelling simian bills himself as The World's Leading Anthropological Ape. Check him out.

Michael, blog author of Gotta Be P.C.. Sure, Michael might post something up on his blog maybe once in a blue moon, but when he does, it throws me into such a laughing fit, that many folks think I'm slightly bonkers. Imagine that!

LiliPixi, blog author of It's a Lollipop World, is somebody I've just recently been reading and she never fails to give me laughs aplenty when I visit her site. She has a unique, humorous perspective on the world. Check her out!

MarytrMom, blog author of what else?... MarytrMom. Her humorous personal stories, videos and commentary are more enough to split my sides. This mother of four has a very down-to-earth appeal and she never fails to give me a much needed chuckle.

Well, folks, I encourage all of you to check these fine recipients out. Now excuse me while I go on my daily quest for Internet clown porn. This Likable Odd Lech is out the door! See ya!

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Seduce Me- The Duck and The Bedbug

Watch these clips from Isabella Rosselini's show, Seduce Me, on the Sundance Channel. They're freaking bizarre and funny as fuck. Trust me. You have to see these to believe 'em.

There's nothing quite as humorous as watching a human being getting gang raped by ducks, I always say. And the bedbug clip certainly had "a point" to it. Not sure what, but I'm sure it's there somewhere.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Conditioning Techniques and Widespread Insanity

The first time you put your finger in a quickly rotating metal fan blade will probably also be your last. When you see the blood spurting forth from your digit like a geyser, you will have hopefully learned a lesson. And you will come away with not only a dismembered finger, but an association of the spinning metal fan blade with pain and the loss of something valuable. Like your goddamn finger!

In our everyday world, such learned associations or conditioned responses are realized in countless ways: A driver will brake at a red light in order to avoid injury or a ticket. Somebody eating shrimp and afterwards feel their throat closing up to an allergic reaction to shellfish will likely not eat it again and avoid it, entirely. A friend that steals from you will teach you not to trust that person again. And so on. These types of conditioned responses can only benefit you in the future.

These are normal, natural responses that prove useful in your life. Positive stimuli for your benefit.

And then there are the ones that aren't useful, beneficial, normal or natural. Such as: Phobias, superstitions, blindly following instead of thinking for fear of ridicule or punishment, addictions to drinking, gambling, money or anything self destructive for hollow, temporary contentedness.

People, I've always found, are an odd bunch. Even as a kid, I was an observer of society. The older I become, the more I see the flaws that get in the way of human progress. Often times, I wonder if we are devolving.

From youth to adult, we are conditioned by the commercials we see on TV or rhetoric we read from print or computer to act or feel a certain way. We're duped by ads, politicians, supervisors, friends, family and more. Conditioning techniques come in the forms of rewards and punishments. Do and act correctly, according to society as a whole and you may receive an award. If you refrain from doing what is expected or required- punishment may be inflicted in verbal or physical form.

There are only a few things that people are capable of that I can think of that are clearly acts that require punishment. Murder of an innocent human is one. Rape is another. Stealing, yet another. Telling someone a lie, in order that they do your bidding, is a good example, too. I'm sure there are more but I could be typing all night long. And that's not going to happen.

What frustrates me is the fact that people are not aware of these techniques that are used to ingrain these negative notions inside their minds. At least, that's the evidence that seems to be flaunted by most everyone. All they know is what they're told.

Religions, companies and governments are grand manipulators. Weapons they use that dig into your mind for their benefit the most? Words that instill fear so you do their bidding. Think about that, unless you haven't already.

It seems as years go by, while casually observing the public, friends, family and myself, of course, the will to think for oneself in this society has become disrupted and even corrupted. Has it always been this way with the human species? To think or act this way or else?

To be made a slave by any organized mass is the truest shame one can take on. When I see everyone in our society thinking and acting as expected or planned, it causes me to believe that we are not unwilling victims of widespread insanity but that we actually invite it, welcome it and wrap it around ourselves as if it were a warm, comfortable security blanket.

Monday, November 1, 2010

A Unique Alternative-The Conclusion

Ethan looked at the spirit with mild bewilderment at what it had said. His hand rubbed Clara's smooth butt. He smiled. There wasn't much that could surprise him now in comparison to the event of what had just transpired. With this in mind, he wasn't too concerned about what she was about to tell him. Having sexual intercourse with a ghost, he thought, would likely be the most surprising thing that could possibly ever happen in his lifetime.

As it would be for most of us.

Clara looked deep into Ethan's eyes, in complete seriousness, and said, "Daria killed me."

Clara paused, momentarily, then said, "It happened almost a month ago yet to me it seems like yesterday."

Ethan gave the beautiful, slightly luminescent spirit on top of him a stern look and asked, "She killed you? Why?"

Clara continued, "A little over a month ago, Ken and I were working in the same office and we would ocassionally go out to a restaurant, eat lunch together and talk. We were just two co workers getting to know one another."

"You must be talking about something that happened before I became friends with Ken, "stated, Ethan, "I don't remember Ken mentioning you. And I'm sure he would have mentioned someone as hot as you."

Clara laughed for a moment and then said, "Thank you."

The spirit slowly raised up towards the ceiling from the top of Ethan's hairy chest and dissipated in the air. Ethan looked around and asked, "Where are you?"

Clara slowly materialized, nude as she was before, at his bedside to pick up where she left off. Illumination from the streetlight showed through his bedroom curtains. The light passed through Clara without leaving a shadow on the wall. Ethan was relieved when she returned.

Clara explained, "Daria had just begun dating your friend and my co worker at the time. She had seen Ken and I going to restaurants together on a couple occasions and she was becomingly increasingly jealous. She thought Ken was cheating on her with me. This was pure insecurity and paranoia on Daria's part because Ken and I were just co workers and only beginning to become friends."

Ethan pushed, "Go on. I'm listening."

"Ken told me about her increasing jealousy and I told him that maybe it would be for the best for everyone if I didn't have lunches with him anymore. After a few minutes of debate from him about this, he agreed with what I was saying. So we stopped. We only saw each other in the office. After a couple days passed, it seemed as if everything was alright. But Daria was still jealous, according to him, still thinking that he and I were together from time to time. He told me their arguments about our supposed affair were getting bad. And then one night, her fury over something she was only imagining, took over any reasoning she might have had in her little mind."

Ethan knew his friend Ken was faithful. Even obedient. Whatever Daria told him to do, he would do, no matter how ridiculous or insulting it seemed to him. She was his manipulator and he would agree to whatever she wanted.

Ethan shook his head, dreading what the spirit was likely going to say next.

"Daria came into this house- my house, invaded this bedroom, where we are now, clamped my mouth shut while I was asleep and slit my throat open with a knife."

Suddenly, blood began pouring out of an abruptly developing gash in Clara's neck and splattered upon the mattress. The mattress became soaked with gore. Ethan could hear drops of blood hit the wooden bedroom floor, as well. Closing his eyes, Ethan pleaded, "Please... Stop."

The blood disappeared. Clara remained.

"Oh, fuck," said Ethan, realizing his friend's girlfriend was a murderer. Dismayed at what this meant, Ethan shook his head and added, "Now what should I do?" Then he answered his own question. "I have to call the police."

Clara explained further, "The police have already questioned her and asked where she was that night. She told them she was in bed, asleep. They could neither confirm or not confirm she was in her apartment that night. Daria was also careful not to leave fingerprints, using latex gloves on her hands and small bags that covered her shoes."

"Why didn't Ken mention you were killed here or any of this before I moved in?" inquired Ethan, with a small measure of anger.

Clara touched his face and said, "He didn't want to frighten you in any way and he knew you were desperate in your attempt to find a place to live in this area."

And then Clara smiled.

Gradually, Clara ascended upwards and then slowly made her way down upon Ethan. Her head maneuvered towards his groin. Gently, the spirit took his penis into her mouth and she commenced sucking the head of his cock. Ethan's hands roamed through her wavy, dark red hair and her backside. What she was doing felt so good to him. Clara continued, easily engulfing his manhood inside her throat, sucking and licking upon it until he had a mind blowing orgasm.

"OOOOHHH," cried out Ethan. Spurts of semen shot through her head and rained down all over the sheets of his bed.

After they held each other for awhile, Ethan moved away from the spirit. He then flipped over on top of her, thrusting his prick inside Clara, relishing how very real she truly felt. Almost an hour of passion had passed before they climaxed, intensely, together.

Not long after the sun had risen, there was a sudden knock on the front door. Clara disappeared from his arms without notice. Ethan looked around the room, actually feeling alone this time. He sat up on the edge of the bed and pulled his jeans on. Ethan thought Ken and Daria might have seen something of his in their car while moving and were bringing it back to his place.

When he opened the door, sure enough, Ken and Daria were standing there, with a box full of electronic equipment.

Daria smirked and said, "We found some more of your stuff in the trunk and figured you might want this, maybe, before we see you later tonight." At that point she pulled a TV remote control out of the box and tossed it to Ethan. Ethan, tired from the hours of lovemaking and conversation with Clara, fumbled for the remote and dropped it on the doorstep. To add insult to injury, the plastic casing cracked and the batteries fell out. It looked broken.

"Did you make any coffee yet, dude?" asked Daria, "Because you look like shit."

Still trying to comprehend all of the recent events leading up to this moment, Ethan mumbled, "Just had a rough night." Then he added, "But it was an amazing night, as well." Ethan smiled.

Daria said, obviously bored, "That's good. So are you going to make us some coffee or what?" Ken was behind Daria, looking like he was embarrassed by how she was trying to order his friend around. Ethan looked away from him and answered, "Sure." Ethan realized he was going to have to have a talk with Ken about Daria and what crime she had committed there- after he called the police. For the moment, he didn't want to reveal what he knew or what he thought he knew to either Ken or Daria. And what exactly was he going to say to the police about any of this, he wondered.

When Daria and Ken walked into the living room, Daria glanced around, as if she were looking for something. She had a puzzled expression on her face. Slightly frustrated, she joined Ken on the sofa.

While Ethan was in the kitchen, plugging the coffee maker into the wall, he heard a familiar wail coming from the living room. He knew it was Clara, crying out. And then he heard a piercing scream. It felt like his heart was going to stop beating.

Ethan ran into the living room and saw Clara, standing behind Daria. Clara had her arm around Daria, tightly binding her. Daria screamed again, while attempting to escape from Clara's supernatural strength. Clara increased the pressure, causing Daria to shout, "Get off me, you dead fucking bitch!"

With her other arm, Clara reached from behind and produced a knife in her hand. Daria looked at the knife and declared, "I hid that fucking knife here where the cops wouldn't find it." Ken and Ethan saw the dried blood on the knife and remained still, amazed at the sight before them.

Quicker than Ethan could say a word, Clara pressed the knife blade to Daria's throat. Slowly, Clara pulled the knife across Daria's flesh, splitting her neck open. Massive gushes of blood bubbled forth from the widening wound. Daria tried to speak but her vocal cords were severed.

Before Daria closed her eyes, dying, Clara held the knife in front of Daria's fading gaze. The spirit said, "I found the knife." Clara released Daria, allowing her murderer to drop to the floor. Just as Daria's head smacked on the floor, Clara vanished.

When the shock wore off, Ken called the police department and when the cops arrived, the men told them that Daria had slit her own throat and killed herself. They also added that before she died, Daria admitted to having killed Clara in a fit of jealous rage- which Daria didn't admit, though it was true, but that was what they had agreed on telling the police. They told the cops that Daria felt she couldn't bear the burden of what she had done and had to pay for her crime.

Later, the police matched Daria's fingerprints to the knife she used to kill Clara. And neither Ken or Ethan had traces of blood or evidence of a struggle on their clothes and skin. This meant to them that Ken and Ethan couldn't be suspects in either deaths. With the evidence presented, the police closed the case of Clara's murder and considered Daria's death to be a result of suicide.

Two days passed before Clara materialized again in Ethan's bedroom. The spirit glowed faintly, floating from the opposite end of the bed to lay by Ethan. She smiled, then said, "I thought you would leave this place after what has transpired here."

Ethan shook his head and replied, "Not if you stay here with me."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm a ghost?"

Ethan answered, "No. At first, yes. But now I believe I'll choose the unique alternative of being with you instead of a living, breathing ordinary woman."

Clara grinned and asked, "And why is that?"

Ethan smiled and continued, "Because you are beautiful, honest and more alive than any other woman I've had a relationship with."

Clara kissed Ethan. For the remainder of the night, they continued their lovemaking. And for the remainder of Ethan's life on Earth and afterwards, they stayed together.
Related Posts with Thumbnails

  © Blogger template ProBlogger Template by 2008

Back to TOP