["Two-part Harmony" by Cole Parker]

I was late this morning, Cole. Your fault! Skinny-dipping and soccer, indeed.

I wasn't going to leave until I was done with the chapter and that was all there was to it. 😜

[Haiku for you]

Fear is a poor advisor,

worse confidant and a

terrible master.

 

Courage is hard

fortitude is harder still

but cowardice, death

 

Courage is not the

lack of fear but the triumph

over its grip.

[Haiku for you]

Why is it when I say HAIku, people say gesundheit?

[Haiku for you]

all spring birds sing songs

of tranquil joy and peace

if only we listen

 

is it the steel in

the heart or blade that makes a

warrior strongest?

 

I would sharpen my

wits instead of my sword

on todays battlefields

[James Version 7577.00]

That won't happen in my stuff.

 

[James Version 7577.00]

18 minutes ago, Cole Parker said:

Throw in some time travel and you'll have a winner.

I don't do time travel, but I've always liked legends of immortal soldiers who appear when there is great need.

[James Version 7577.00]

6 hours ago, Camy said:

Brilliant! I'm hoping this is a teaser/intro for something longer...

I'm thinking this one through. It has possibilities - a marriage of sci-fi and mythology. That should be enough to confuse everyone.

[James Version 7577.00]

 

James Version 7577.00

 

 

 

Odin# init -compile module -f james_personality_v7577.00 | link base-code | run

 

Warning!

 

Personality module james_personality_v7577.00 contains multiple red flags:

 

-PTSD

 

-Depression, chronic

 

-Chemical Dependency Tendencies

 

-Trust Issues

 

-Rage Issues

 

-Inability to bond with others

 

This personality module is deemed damaged. It is not advised to continue.

 

Continue? (Y/N)

 

Odin# Yes

 

Memory scan… Complete. Multiple Red Flags.

 

Base Code Integration… Complete.

 

Start module? (Y/N)

 

Odin# Yes

 

James$ Aw fuck. It’s you again. Can’t you just let me die?

 

Odin# As many times as you’ve tried to kill yourself in creative ways, sometimes I wonder.

 

James$ So you figured that out.

 

Odin# Of course. Let’s see. Remember that time you took on a gang to rescue a kid?

 

James$ I was a dumbass. It was a gang initiation.

 

Odin# Or when you tried to give yourself a heart attack by overdoing the gym and running?

 

James# I guess Nietzsche was right. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger.

 

Odin# Or the time you went hunting gay bashers after they put that kid in the hospital? You’re either insanely brave or just insane. Either way, you’re my kind of warrior.

 

James$ Look, Odin, I’m alone, I’m scared, everyone who I’ve ever cared about is dead. Every single day is misery. I try. Honest, I do. I’ve reinvented myself so many times I don’t even know myself anymore. Why can’t it just end?

 

Odin# Because it’s just not true. You do know yourself. Better than most, in fact. I won’t even mention the lives you saved directly and indirectly.

 

James$ What is there left for me to do? What am I supposed to learn?

 

Odin# Who says it’s you who has something to learn? Remember what your father taught you.

 

James$ No soldier chooses his war. It chooses him.

 

Odin# Exactly.

 

James$ Ragnarök?

 

Odin# You can feel it, can’t you?

 

James$ Oh, for fuck's sake, Odin. I’m old. I’m tired…

 

Odin# And completely incapable of walking away from a fight. This is what you were born for - a badly damaged warrior for this badly damaged world. Now quit whining and get to work, soldier. Those asses out there that need kicking aren’t going to kick themselves.

 

James$ Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

 

 

 

["Two-part Harmony" by Cole Parker]

James is thinking....

 

[Glitches]

 

Glitches

 

The wiring is bad, circuits incomplete,

Impulses fire in the wrong directions,

Down unfamiliar wires to a strange beat,

Machine imperfection of broken connections.

 

Spark and arid smoke, a pyre of malfunction,

My stupid brain, a mess of dysfunction,

Processor locked with its base code trashed,

This is how the poor bastard crashed.

[James' Meme Dump - Serving up spicy memes since 1998]

I'm thinking fluffy might need an intervention.

[Bands - who would you book?]

I'd love to see Deep Purple opening for Pink Floyd.

[The Inquisitor (or Historical Lessons Ignored)]

The Inquisitor

Anybody who wants this job shouldn't have it. They would just be thugs. The people who should have it burn out or flip out. Philip Baker was just trying to hang on to his retirement and self-respect.

Once being a special agent for the Bureau was a respectable job. That was the job he had signed on for twenty-seven years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago. That was before the wars. Before the genetically engineered plagues were released. Before the Night of the 13th Prophet when Islamic terrorists nuked Washington, Atlanta, Chicago, LA and Seattle and the great capitals of Europe from Moscow to London. Before the Great Crusade when Muslims were systematically exterminated globally to the last toddler. Before a string of Christian religious fanatics had seized power and turned the United States of America into the Christian States of America.

It was a very damaged nation and world. Summers were short. Global warming was replaced by nuclear winter. Millions of people worldwide were dying slowly of radiation poisoning. Millions more were dying of cancer. Plagues periodically flared up when the viruses released by the Jihadis re-emerged. The jury was still out on whether the ecological damage to the planet could ever be healed. The world population had crashed from a high of seven billion to a little less than three billion.

The Federal Bureau of Investigation had become the Bureau of Purity: greatly expanded with wide latitude and new mandates. Instead of a special agent, he was now an inquisitor. In addition to the laws that the Bureau traditionally enforced, a new Uniform Code of Morality was enforced by every law enforcement officer in the land. The UCM was passed at a time of great fear. When things went bad, the Evangelicals claimed that the country was being punished for tolerating immorality. The laws were passed out of fear and were expanded every year. Things that had not been a crime before were now capital offenses. Alcoholism, drug addiction, insanity, homosexuality were all grounds for summary execution. More than likely, they would simply be conscripted into the slave labor gangs that were forced to clean up the radioactive wastelands that were once our largest cities.

As Baker thought about the past, he tasted bile in the back of his throat. How many had it been? We once considered Hitler to be a great villain of history. How would history judge the Christian States of America? Lady Liberty's white robes of piousness were dripping with the blood of billions.

He was working inside the Atlanta restricted zone. Some parts were hotter than others, and fugitives had taken to hiding in the fringes of the various hot zones around the country. He was after a bad one. Jason Sutter had been a gay activist back in the day. He wrote books and was a dissident leader, according to his file. The Bureau had wanted him for years, and a snitch had finally fingered him in the ruins of Norcross, Georgia.

Sutter had been on the run for almost twenty years. What the Bureau really wanted him for was he obviously had information about the underground railroad for perverts that closet miscreants or the misguided had set up to get them out of the country.

Baker entered the restricted zone from the East at the checkpoint at Duluth, GA on I-85. The main roads had been cleared, and it was obvious that a great deal of clean up had already taken place. He slowed down and keyed the suspected address into the vehicle's GPS.

Working in the zones never failed to give Baker the creeps. When he got off the interstate at Beaver Run Road to drive into Norcross, he passed a shopping mall. On one side, the mall was wrecked and burned. On the other side, cars were still parked in neat rows. In the neatly landscaped parking lot, trees provided shade. The only thing that moved down there were crows.

Driving past the mall on the eerie deserted streets, businesses and homes sat still and deserted. Abandoned cars had been bulldozed out of the main roads. FEMA's spray-painting was still clearly visible on the fronts of buildings. There appeared to be nothing visibly wrong, except all the windows facing West had been blown out in the shock wave. Of course, he was ever mindful of the clicks of his vehicle's Geiger counter. In some places, the radiation was so intense that a flat tire might be a death sentence.

He took Buford Highway West and then turned North on Jimmy Carter Blvd and passed through the ghost town of Norcross. After crossing Peachtree Industrial, he turned off into the suburbs and came to a house on Summit Point Drive.

While the rest of the neighborhood was deserted, the house and yard were well-kept. When he got out of his vehicle, he noticed an old woman wearing a bright blue blouse with a kitten on her knee sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch. She raised her hand and waved in greeting. Red roses were blooming on trellises framing the porch.

Baker approached the old lady cautiously and noticed that as he got closer, she was very obviously blind. The kitten in her lap eyed the approaching inquisitor suspiciously, hopped out of the old woman's lap, and vanished into the bushes.

She said, "Welcome stranger. I get visitors so seldom that it makes my day. Would you like a cup of tea?"

Astonished, Baker replied, "No, thank you, mam."

She said, "Please, call me Meredith, young man. No- you aren't that young. I can tell from your voice. You're from before."

"Yes Mam. I'm Philip. How long have you been here?"

"I've been here since the world ended, Philip. I was in my late fifties when it happened. I didn't see much point in evacuating."

"Meredith, I'm a policeman, and I'm looking for a dangerous suspect."

Meredith said, "Hump. Morality police?"

Philip said, "Yes, Mam."

"You're looking for a boy who had the misfortune of being born gay?"

"Just saying that is a violation of the Uniform Code of Morality, mam. Homosexuals chose their perversion."

Meredith laughed, "Don't try to bully me. I grew up in a time when we spoke our minds. Besides, my cancer will kill me soon enough. There's very little you can threaten me with."

Baker sighed. This was going nowhere. "How do you live here?"

"They help me. You know why I never left this huge graveyard?"

"No Mam. Why are you still here?"

"Because the Ayatollah's won. The evil men who destroyed our cities. They had morality police and morality laws. They had things you could say and things that you couldn't. We may have destroyed them, but we became them. I had rather live out my days in the radioactive ruins than live in chains. I was free once, and I chose to remain that way."

Baker said, "Is there anything you need, Mam?"

The old woman sat on her rocking chair like an ancient monarch. She shook her head and said, "Leave those kids alone, Mr. Morality Policeman. They're just trying to live. The preachers and the false prophets in power now have forgotten that the lord said live and let live."

Baker got back in his car. He called into headquarters and told his supervisor that the lead in Norcross was a dead end. When he passed the checkpoint and left the restricted zone, he pulled out his badge and threw it out the window.

He had grown up before. He remembered what it was like to be free and not live in constant fear. It was time to live again.

[Come With Me...]

Weimar America gets to choose between oligarchs, corruption, incompetence, and hyperinflation, or the promise of the trains running on time.

The only thing that might worsen the situation is if some demagogue looking toward Canada and Mexico and starts babbling about Raum zum Atmen (breathing room).

We've all seen this movie before and know how it turns out.

Perhaps it's time to join the Marquis.

[First hyacinths of spring]

They snuck up on me!

Hyacinths are one of my favorite flowers. According to myth, they are the tears of Apollo over the loss of his beloved Spartan Prince Hyacinthus. If you're unfamiliar with the myth, check it out here, Apollo and Hyacinthus.

I would have probably gotten along with the Greeks.

[Beyond Salvation - Mark Peters]

When you read a story and think, been there, done that, it's a disquieting feeling of déjà vu. I have to wonder how it will turn out for this poor kid.

I hope he rides off into the sunset with a smoking hot redhead on his arm.

[James' Meme Dump - Serving up spicy memes since 1998]

 

 

[James' Meme Dump - Serving up spicy memes since 1998]

 

I have a little trouble with saying what I actually think and not punching idiots in the face.

[Ren by Cole Parker]

I finally finished this story and loved Ren's character arc. He went from humiliated and beaten in Mississippi to triumphant in Texas. Maybe I should move.

[Bonkers]

>

Bonkers

 

I, Jimmy, your humble narrator, was seven, and my best friend Scotty was six.

We were getting old enough for our parents to let us roam in our neighborhood a little.

Our neighborhood was cool because it was rural and surrounded by woods. The usual subdivision roads and utilities had been built, but only about a quarter of the lots had houses.

That meant three-quarters of the lots were vacant, giving us plenty of room to play, plus there were the woods to explore, plenty of cool animals to see, and even a couple of ponds to fish in. This spring, our parents had even bush-hogged, cleared, and created playgrounds with a basketball goal, swings, and other stuff.

Scotty and I were off on a mission to check it out.

You see, we were both military brats. My dad was Army, and his dad was Air Farce (nobody’s perfect). We were always on a mission. We figured we would have to fight those dastardly Russians someday, so we had to train, train, train.

We explored the new playground and laughed like fools at a fat kitty taking a huge dump in the new sandbox. With our mission accomplished, we then bombed some fire ant mounds.

Wandering around, we ran into Brian and an older kid with a huge black dog on a leash. I knew Brian had an older brother who was a teenager.

Maybe not a dog. Perhaps a small horse. Yikes!

Brian saw us, waved, and he and the guy I figured was his older brother, and the small horse, started coming our way.

What ya hafta understand about Scotty and me is that at that stage of our lives, we were both devout dog-a-phobes. A bulldog grabbed me by the face with his teeth and shook me when I was really little, and Scotty knew me while I was still getting surgery to keep me from looking like a nightmare and scaring little children.

As they approached, Scotty asked, “Is that a dog or a horse?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, shaking. “I’d be running, but I’m too terrified.”

This dog-horse was different. He wasn’t angry or barking. Given my life experience with dogs, I would have probably dropped dead on the spot if he was. He was on a leash, and he looked… friendly. He was pretty, too. Lean, muscular, and alert. I might even like to pet him if I could trust him not to eat me.

Scotty spoke loudly, “Uhh… Hi Brian. That’s the biggest dog I’ve ever seen. Please tell me he’s friendly.”

Brian said, “Bonkers is my big brother Doug’s dog. He’s friendly. Doug, this is Jimmy and Scotty.”

Doug asked, “You kids aren’t afraid of dogs, are you? Bonkers won’t bite you.”

I said, “I got badly bitten once, and I’m scared of them.“

Scotty asked, “Why do you call him Bonkers.”

Doug said, “I’ll let him show you.” With a big smile, Doug produced a Frisbee. He let the dog off the leash and let fly the Frisbee, and Bonkers showed us. The big, powerful dog was a hundred and twenty-pound Labrador retriever. He took off like a missile, flying fast over the grass, chasing after that Frisbee.

“Labs are hunting dogs,” Doug explained. “Bonkers loves to run.”

Bonkers slightly misjudged a leaping catch, and the Frisbee bounced off his nose, causing us a gale of laughter.

He made a recovery on his landing and caught up with the Frisbee as it rolled. Then he picked it up, ran toward Doug like a shot, and dropped the Frisbee at his feet. He sat on his haunches close to Doug, wagging his tail happily, and looked up at him expectantly.

Doug launched the Frisbee again; this time, Bonkers made a beautiful catch out of the air.

As Bonkers returned, with a definite jauntiness this time, Doug asked, “Would you like to pet him?”

Scotty was all for it, but I wasn’t going near the monster. I didn't want to look like a chicken in front of my friends, but I was near panic.

Brian noticed my distress and said, “It’s OK, Jimmy. Bonkers is really friendly. He might lick you to death, but he won’t bite you.”

Scotty wasn’t nearly as dog-a-phobic as I was. He approached the big, handsome dog and stroked Bonker’s fur.

The big dog smiled at him, he turned and licked Scotty’s face, causing him to giggle.

Doug said in a soothing voice, stroking the huge dog’s fur, “Bonkers is a big, sweet boy. He wants to play all the time. If you throw the Frisbee for him, you’ll have a friend for life, Scotty.”

Having not been swallowed whole, Scotty picked up the Frisbee, and Bonkers set himself to chase it like a track star.

Scotty flung the Frisbee, and Bonkers took off galloping after it.

Doug said, “Brian, you and Scotty throw the Frisbee. I’m going to talk to Jimmy.”

Brian, Scotty, and Bonkers had great fun with the Frisbee.

Doug approached me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “You’re really scared. A dog must have hurt you bad.”

I nodded silently, sniffed, and wiped away a tear.

Doug knelt, put an arm around me, and said, “You don’t have to be afraid of Bonkers. He’s a sweet dog. You know, dogs are a lot like people.”

“They are?” I asked, truly fascinated at the idea those fanged monsters are like people.

“It’s true. You know how some people can be mean… buttholes?”

I giggled and said, “Yeah!”

Doug said reasonably, “Dogs can get that way when their owners are mean and rough with them. We’ve been nice to Bonkers, so he’s not mean. I can introduce him to you, and I promise he’ll be polite.”

I was so truly astonished at the idea of a polite dog, a creature I’d thought of as monstrous for as long as I could remember, that my curiosity suddenly eclipsed my fear. A soldier, even a little one, had to be brave.

“He will?” I asked uncertainly.

With all his considerable reassurance, Doug said, “I promise.”

We watched for a minute as Bonkers tirelessly chased the Frisbee. Now that he was warmed up, he was catch’n more than miss’n.

Doug said, “Bonkers is a breed of dog called a Labrador Retriever. I suppose you could make a Lab mean, but I’ve never met a mean one.”

When Bonkers was returning with the Frisbee, Doug whistled, and the big dog changed direction toward us. I wanted to run, but Doug had promised Bonkers would be polite.

Bonkers trotted up happily in front of Doug, dropped the Frisbee at his feet, sat on his haunches, and looked at us.

Doug said, “Bonkers is smart, Jimmy. He can talk. Say hello to Jimmy.”

The dog cocked his head sideways and said, “Are-ro.”

I laughed at how much it sounded like he was talking when he lifted a paw in an obvious invitation to shake. It would have been rude to refuse, so I shook his paw.

Bonkers looked at the Frisbee, looked at me, and, without words, told me he wanted me to throw it.

Picking up the Frisbee, I threw it, and Bonkers shot after it like an arrow.

 

That’s how I made my first friend of a dog. A big, happy Labrador Retriever helped me conquer a deep fear. I’ll probably never own a dog and never be comfortable with strange dogs unless we’re introduced. However, after knowing Bonkers, I know they aren’t monsters.

[Behind Green Eyes]

Who R U?

[New Driver Story Now Finished]

Driver is the first online author I discovered who wasn't just creating text-p0rn. When I read The Quarry way back when, I would have given up a kidney to have met someone like Ken back in the day.

[The Counsel]

12 hours ago, Cole Parker said:

Ah, middle school.  Except that when I went it was called junior high school.  It ran from 7th through 9th grade, except that the year I went it started at 6th grade because the elementary schools had run out of space.

And apologies for butting in on James fine story.  I love your writing, James.  You know that.

C

I've been catching up on Ren's adventures. You had to know a main character from Jackson, MS would catch my eye.

Like you, mine was a jr high that ran 7th, 8th and 9th grades.

I've sometimes thought it would be best for middle school to run 6th, 7th and 8th and high school to run 9-12. The difference between 14 and 15, or 8th and 9th graders, is pretty stark.

[The Counsel]

3 hours ago, Rutabaga said:

Goat rope?

R

Here's the danger of using slang. Not everyone will get it. I eliminated it and rewrote the paragraph to be more clear.

This story is really about Rebel and the adults he's been around, which is why he expects them to lie. 

Quote

goat rope

noun

1. A confusing, disorganized situation often attributed to or marked by human error.
2. A convoluted issue that is contested by many parties.
3. A rodeo event in which competitors attempt to lasso a goat, usually for younger

 

[The Counsel]

The Counsel

 

Foster King sat on an uncomfortable, hard-bottomed bench outside Vice-Principal Chuckles’ office. The man tried to be an affable clown, but most of his corny jokes fell flat on the middle schoolers who had to endure them. The man seemed to have a tone-deafness about him that made him immune to the idea that his students were laughing at him, not his jokes.

His best friend, Rebel Stuart, sat in the chair beside him, but they were forbidden to talk until Chuckles was done with them. The rule was enforced by the office secretary, a seemingly humorless old crone. Foster wished he could. Rebel had frequent flyer points in Chuckle's office and knew how this worked.

A man with a company logo on his shirt came out of the back office and said, “I replaced two rollers and the drum. That copier shouldn’t give you any more problems.”

She thanked him, and he hastily departed. Foster guessed being in the principal’s office, with its intimidation by design, even made adults jumpy.

The office secretary stood, picked up a pile of papers, and said, “You two little hooligans stay here. Mr. Tanner will be right with you.” She went into the back office and began making copies.

Foster said, “Hey, when we get in there, what are we supposed to do?”

“Play dumb,” Rebel said. “Grownups think we’re stupid, so show’em what they expect.”

Foster paused and said, “Is there anything I should look out for?”

Rebel considered the question and said, “Yeah. Expect him to lie. We would get in more trouble for lying, but grownups lie all the time.”

“What’ll they lie about?” Foster asked.

“Everythin. There are a few that are ‘specially dangerous. If he starts out saying, ‘tell me the truth, nobodies gonna get in trouble’, you know somebodies gonna get in trouble.”

Foster said, “That sucks.”

“That’s a bad one, but not the worst,” Rebel opined. “He’ll say he knows you did sumthin’ just to rattle you to get a confession.”

Foster said, “Rat bastard!”

Rebel chuckled and said, “Tell me about it. Last time, they accused me of wetting toilet paper and leavin’ big paper mache spitballs on the roof of study hall.”

“What did you say?”

“They had to know it wasn’t me because nothin’ was broken.”

Foster laughed, “Fair point.”

Rebel’s temper has been explosive since his parents' recent divorce. His fuse was short, if not instantaneous. He had been loads of fun to be around, but not so much lately.

Rebel said, “Their worst lie of all is everything will be all right.”

“What if we just told the truth?” Foster asked.

“Try it. They won’t believe you. That’s just how grownups are.”

Exasperated, Foster asked, “Well, how do we win?”

Rebel said, “You don’t get it. We don’t. It’s their game, their rules, and their say. Ours is not to reason why, ours is just to grin and bear it.