a monument to the friendship that we never had erected

breathe in

this shall be the slowest day on earth. it has been decreed by the gods that govern the laws of the day before vacation. i should make this post something important because i am going out of town this weekend. i should. but i won't. don't worry monkeys, i will prolly get online down there and give an update of how i am doing. if i don't that just means that i've been kidnapped by the people that run the dulce base and they are performing evil experiments on me in the Human Engineering Lab, or HEL. or i just got to drunk and can't move.

breathe out

the resurgence of wrestling as a viable form of entertainment over the past five years really bugs me. i am all for half naked men throwing each other around, but in the context of testosterone driven melodrama... not so much. reminds me too much of the gay bar.

ventilate (FICTION)

"i see you have found me," he said, smiling slyly, his crooked teeth showing slightly. he crossed the room, the candles that colored the world inside his sanctuary flickering as he walks by. "sit down, you've come far."

in the doorway she stood her ground, the modified shotgun drawn and leveled at his chest.

"no need for dramatics, darling. have i not welcomed you here countless times before with open arms. nothing has changed now, not even considering your current affiliation. there is no magnate within these walls, you should know that by now. would you like some scotch?"

TBC....(sorry folks, this is getting a lot bigger in my head than i can put down right now, but to give you a hint this one is called confrontation on park avenue west.)