Oct 19, 2018

Things Mechanics Have Found in Cars

“In your business you get to know a lot of secrets. In mine, too.”
“How’s that?”
“People want their car detailed, for instance, and don’t always make sure everything’s out of it they don’t want other people to see.”
“Such as?”
“That would be telling.”
She elbowed him. “Not if I don’t know who left the what.”
“We have a running contest at the garage. Whoever finds the most women’s underwear in a
month gets a six-pack.”
“Oh. Hmmm.” 

Happy Ever After


By Blueck (talk) - Own work (Original text: I created this work entirely by myself.), 
Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4850556

Think French fries on the floorboard and stinky gym shoes in the back seat of your car is bad? That’s nothing compared to what these mechanics have found!

Oct 18, 2018

What area of your house were you afraid of as a kid?

“Where . . . Oh God, Del, not one of the basements.”
“How many attics and basements are in this place?” Mal whispered to Emma.
“Three attics, two—no, three basements if you count the scary boiler room where the demons who eat the flesh of young girls live.”
“Sure, if you’re a young boy like Del was.” Emma narrowed her dark eyes as she glared across the table. “But if you’re a young girl playing Treasure Hunt, you could be scarred for life by a certain mean boy with a flashlight with a red bulb, a shambling walk, and a low, maniacal laugh.”
She picked up her wine, shuddered a little. “I still can’t go down there.”

Happy Ever After


By Paolo Neo - http://www.public-domain-image.com/public-domain-images-pictures-free-stock-photos/photography-studio-public-domain-images-pictures/macro-photography-public-domain-images-pictures/cactus-flower-in-dark-room.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24916063

With Halloween approaching, we'd love to hear your stories about the creepiest part of your house growing up. 

Oct 17, 2018

Does awe lift your spirits or stress you out?

"It's not for sale," Cam said simply.
"It… is it…" It couldn't be, he thought, while his heart thumped with nerves and hope and shock. But hope was paramount. In the past year he'd learned to hope. "Is it mine?"
"You're the only one with a birthday around here," Cam reminded him. "Don't you want a closer look?"
"It's mine?" He whispered it first, with such staggered delight and shock that Sybill felt her eyes sting. "
Mine?" He exploded with it as he whirled around. This time the sheer joy on his face closed her throat. "To keep?"

Inner Harbor


By {{{1}}} - Flickr: 'Hands Across the Divide' sculpture, CC BY 2.0, 

Awe is an awfully complex emotion, conjuring feelings of reverence that can range from wonder to dread. It's a blend of fear and surprise, according to some definitions, although it often feels like more than the sum of those parts.
"Awe is an overwhelming and bewildering sense of connection with a startling universe that is usually far beyond the narrow band of our consciousness," 


"Reed Valentine would like to schedule a meeting and arrange for a professional demo, in studio, in New York, when it suits you."
She couldn't feel her hands. Or her feet. She realized dizzily that all she could feel was the sudden, ferocious hammering of her heart.
"Reed Valentine? Valentine Records? A meeting? With me? Why?"
"Suddenly you're full of questions." With a laugh, he toasted her again. "Yes, Reed Valentine of Valentine Records wants a meeting with you because he was very favorably impressed with the tape you put together."
"You sent it in? You sent it to Reed Valentine."
"I told you I was going to send it to a connection of mine."
Valentine Records. Now she couldn't feel her own lips. But she could feel the abrupt lurch of her stomach. "I didn't expect—I never thought…"
"Didn't you think I meant it, Cat? I don't play games like that."
"No, I don't—God, I can't breathe." She pressed a hand to her chest as if to push out air, but couldn't find any. "I can't get my breath."
Alarmed, he reached for her. She'd gone dead white. "Hey. Sit down."
"No. Yes. No. I need some air."
She shoved the wineglass into his hand and bolted for the balcony doors. Her head was light, as if she'd swallowed the whole bottle of champagne in one gulp. She couldn't get her breath because the air was trapped somewhere under her diaphragm.

Duncan @ MacGregor Grooms

Oct 16, 2018

TattooAge. Never too old.

"Jesus, Steve, are you stripping again?" Cilla demanded as she came back out.
"You've got Ford Freaking Sawyer living across the street. Man, he's the Seeker."
Cilla studied the tattoo Steve tapped as he looked over his shoulder. "When are you going to stop that?"
"When my whole body tells a story. Still got you on my ass, doll."
"Do not pull down your pants." she said, knowing him.



By Johntex - Own work, CC BY 2.5, 

Tattoos are a common sight on young people nowadays, but there are a growing number of senior citizens who are sporting their own body art. Many of them had it long before it was socially acceptable and provide a peek into how tattoos age on the skin. One project called TattooAge. Never too old. highlights 25 seniors with tattoos. It was created by GetOud, a foundation dedicated to bridging gaps between generations and fostering a positive image of people over 75.


“Maybe I should get another tattoo.”
“No.” Then studying her butt as he dressed, he considered. “Like what? Where? Why?”
“I don’t know, have to think about it. The problem with the butt location is I hardly ever
see it, and it seems like the person who goes through the process ought to be able to see
the results easily. Added to it, hardly anybody else sees my butt either, so what’s the point?
Unless I consider it some secret ritual of teenage rebellion, which it pretty much was."
“This would be mature.”
“A mature tattoo.”

The Last Boyfriend

Oct 15, 2018

Hero Dog Awards

The dog wasn’t even there. Some guard dog, he thought with a snort, and pulled on thin latex gloves to check if the doors were locked.
The dog—bigger than he’d remembered— flew at the glass, barking, snarling, even snapping. Shocked panic had him stumbling back, throwing up his hands as if to protect his face. His heart banged in his throat, his mouth went dry. Infuriated him even as he trembled.
“Fucker. Fucker.” Breathless, he tried the big smile again, though his eyes transmitted
pure hate even as he showed the dog the biscuit.
“Yeah, asshole,” he said in a friendly singsong. “See what I got. Should’ve poisoned it, you ugly fuck.”
But no matter the tone, no matter the bribe, the dog’s relentless barking increased.
When he made a testing move toward the door, the dog peeled back those canine lips
and showed his fangs.
“Maybe I’ll stick this down your throat instead.” He pulled the knife, stabbed out with it.
Rather than cowering back, the dog leaped at the glass and stood on his hind legs, barking madly with eyes creepy blue and feral.

The Obsession


These Pets Saved the Day, or Save Every Day, at Home


“And I’m going to fix this amazing dog something special. No kibble for you today, my brave boy.”
Tag sent him a look of adoration, laid a head on Harry’s leg. “Some beef. We’ll call it Beef à la Tag.”
When Harry went in, Tag limped after him.

The Obsession

Oct 11, 2018

Red Sox blast 'New York, New York'

In his easy way, Joe picked up the basket of biscuits, offered it to the boy. “Oh, yeah, Mr. New York. Yankees or Mets?”
“Not a prayer.” As if in sympathy, Joe shook his head. “Not this year, kid.”
“We’ve got a strong infield, good bats. Sir,” he added as if he’d just remembered to.
“Baltimore’s already killing you.”
“It’s a fluke. They died last year, and they’ll fade this year.”
“When they do, the Red Sox will pounce.”
“Crawl maybe.”
“Oh, a smart-ass.”

Black Hills


By Waz8 [CC0], from Wikimedia Commons

The Boston Red Sox can "Name That Tune" in one note, or so it seems, as they had the last word in musical taunting after knocking the New York Yankees out of the postseason in front of the home crowd at Yankee Stadium.

As the champagne bottles were popping in the Red Sox locker room after their 4-3 American League Division Series Game 4 clincher Tuesday night, the background music was Frank Sinatra singing "New York, New York," the song that echoes around Yankee Stadium after every game.


The batter dropped a short single into left field, and she grabbed Thorpe's arm. "Oh, look, he hit one!"
"That's the wrong team, Liv," Thorpe pointed out wryly. "We're rooting for the other guys."
She accepted the hot dog and peeled off a corner on the packet of mustard. "Why?"
"Why?" he repeated, watching as she squeezed the mustard on generously. "The Orioles are from Baltimore. The Red Sox are from Boston."
"I like Boston." Liv took a healthy bite of the hot dog as Palmer whipped a mean curve by the next batter. "Shouldn't he have swung at that one?"
"Don't like Boston too loudly in this section," Thorpe advised.

Endings and Begginings