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Random, the Attention Strumpet!
Author: Random
Date: 08/06/2008 21:33:30
Alright, fine, Here's one of my stories. It happens to be a personal favorite, for reasons i may or may not discuss later. That aside, it's got supernatural elements, which i hope isn't a problem for you all.
Night Graves
Renold Graves walked along a large iron-rod fence until he reached an opening. He looked up at the small church, framed by a late rising moon. A stained glass window reached over the double doors.
He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his black hair, trying to flatten it. Standing straight, he made a slow confident stride along the pathway to the doors. Renold adjusted his long coat, pulling it tighter around his waist, to hide the worn leather holster and tarnished Colt 45 at this hip.
The doors gave easily to his push. Despite the hour, the church still had a few parishioners. They sat in the front pews, where candles burned on their last pools of wax. Renold walked slowly to the back row and sat down. It was dark; he took out a small card from his pocket and absent mindedly flipped it in his fingers as he watched Father Arner talk to a parishioner. Several minutes passed before the preacher spotted Renold. Arner nodded slightly and smiled to the parishioner, finishing their conversation. He walked back to Renold.
“Hello, Father,” Renold said. “Busy?”
Arner shook his head. “I always have time for you.” The pastor looked the man over, arching his brow. “Have you been in a fight Renold?”
“What?” He asked.
“I never see you wear your cross on the outside on purpose.”
Renold looked down and saw the necklace with the cross hanging against his shirt. He didn’t say anything, tucking the cross away.
Father Arner sat next to Renold. His eyes traveled to the front of the church as they sat in silence for several moments. “You have a confession?” Arner asked.
“You know that I am not ready for forgiveness.”
The preacher nodded. “Then, how about you tell me your story?”
Renold watched the candle, formed his thoughts. He began. “I’ll start from the beginning…”
* * *
It started earlier this evening during my walk to the newspaper stand. I didn’t have anything planned for the night. I figured I’d buy the paper, see if anything interesting was in the news. I dropped the coins into the slot and took a paper. That was when I noticed a small card sitting atop the stand. I picked it up. It read: “Got a job for you.”
I turned around and saw Caylem standing behind me, watching. “Don’t have to leave your trash around, could have just asked me.” The silent Caylem raised an eyebrow.
It had been several months since I had seen him. He’s a strange guy. He’s got a young face, but old grey eyes. His white hair is combed back. I trust Caylem. He knows me. He knows what I need to hear. He knows when to tell me.
As so often in the past, Caylem took a folder from his coat and handed it to me. The folder contained little more than a few handwritten notes scribbles of times, places, events, and blurred snapshots. It seemed simple enough. I looked up at Caylem. He motioned his head to indicate down the street.
It was still early in the night, the street was filled with people, but a young woman stood out. A beautiful one, blonde hair, hour-glass figure, she turned just about every man’s head as she walked by. My eyes returned to Caylem. “And…?” I asked, knowing the answer.
He just continued to look down the street. I sighed and followed his gaze.
A hulking man step from the shadows of an alley. He had old clothes, pulled at the seams as if the stitches had been yanked apart from the inside. He probably had been wearing the same coverings for months, maybe years. What caught my attention most though: when he passed under a streetlight he didn’t cast a shadow.
“Vampire…” I muttered and turned back to Caylem. “Well, is this why you’ve sought me out?” He nodded. “Then let’s get him,” I said, maybe a little too cavalier for what we faced.
I turned around to look down the street, again. The man was gone.
“Damn…”
The woman continued to walked away.
“He’ll attack tonight then?” I asked Caylem. He nodded. “Well, we wait.”
Along the dimly lit street for several blocks we followed the woman keeping our distance.
“You always seem to find interesting diversions for my nights Caylem.” Again, he just nodded.
She finally reached her apartment. “The stalker should have attacked by now,” I muttered.
Caylem extended his hand, holding another card for me. I took it and looked down, wondering what my friend had to say. I moved to get under one of the few street lamps to read the words printed on the card.
As my eyes focused, a forceful blow from behind stuck my neck accompanied with a grunt.
I fell forward to my knees. The card fluttered into the shadows. I stood quickly and turned to face my attacker. The stalker stood there hissing through teeth as much animal as man. “She’s mine.”
“Yeah, not going to happen,” I uttered, stiffening my resolve.
I took a few steps back and saw the stalker’s eyes dart to the woman. She stood on her apartment stoop, Caylem at her side.
“Get her in,” I commanded Caylem.
As I was distracted, the stalker lunged at me. We both fell to the ground. His powerful hands pinned my shoulders to the sidewalk, the cement scratching against my back.
“Do you know who I am?” he hissed inches from my face.
“No,” I declared. “Nor do I care.”
In a quick, practiced and masterful move, I jerked by right arm free, reached to my hip, ripped out my six-gun and fired. The stalker’s eyes went wide. He rolled off me in a devastated grunt of pain.
“You aren’t really anyone special.”
I stood over him. He stared back at me. I pulled the trigger again; the bullet went through his heart.
“Killer! You killer!” came a scream from over my shoulder. It was the woman, aghast. Her mouth still wide from the cry.
I watched her for a moment, but didn’t respond to the accusation. It was true after all.
“You killed him,” the woman cried again.
I looked at the body, then at the gun still in my hand. “I did.” I shrugged, slid the Colt into the holster. I saw Caylem’s card a few feet away and picked it up.
“Why…Why do you think you have the right to take his life?” the woman demanded.
Our eyes met, and I could see past the brown into her soul. I could see the innocence behind her eyes. I knew nothing I could say would change her mind over what I had done. I shook my head and turned away. I moved quickly down the street, trying to push her from my mind. Caylem had already disappeared into the night. My hands sliding Caylem’s card into my pocket.
* * *
“That’s what happened.” Renold calmly told the preacher.
Arner didn’t say anything; again his eyes found their way to the front of the church.
“You’ve been coming to me for years,” he said after a long silence. “You tell me your stories, yet you seek no absolution.”
“I suppose,” Renold said. “Is this becoming a burden for you?”
The preacher sighed and looked at him. “No, I understand what you need. It is not forgiveness, but relief. All I can do is help you through your burdens.”
Renold shook his head. “Are you trying to comfort me?”
“Should I not? You feel guilty. To go out and kill one’s own kind, whether to save the innocent or not, is a difficult task.”
Renold stood up.
“I do what is right,” he said, not noticing Caylem’s card had found its way from his hand to the tile floor of the church.
“We’re done now father,” Renold said as he reached the end of the pew.
“Renold…” Farther Arner said standing as Renold Graves slipped through the church doors. Arner sighed and leaned over to pick up the fallen card.
“We all do God’s work,” Arner murmured tucking the card into his robe.
See...there it is...hope you enjoyed.
Renold Graves walked along a large iron-rod fence until he reached an opening. He looked up at the small church, framed by a late rising moon. A stained glass window reached over the double doors.
He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his black hair, trying to flatten it. Standing straight, he made a slow confident stride along the pathway to the doors. Renold adjusted his long coat, pulling it tighter around his waist, to hide the worn leather holster and tarnished Colt 45 at this hip.
The doors gave easily to his push. Despite the hour, the church still had a few parishioners. They sat in the front pews, where candles burned on their last pools of wax. Renold walked slowly to the back row and sat down. It was dark; he took out a small card from his pocket and absent mindedly flipped it in his fingers as he watched Father Arner talk to a parishioner. Several minutes passed before the preacher spotted Renold. Arner nodded slightly and smiled to the parishioner, finishing their conversation. He walked back to Renold.
“Hello, Father,” Renold said. “Busy?”
Arner shook his head. “I always have time for you.” The pastor looked the man over, arching his brow. “Have you been in a fight Renold?”
“What?” He asked.
“I never see you wear your cross on the outside on purpose.”
Renold looked down and saw the necklace with the cross hanging against his shirt. He didn’t say anything, tucking the cross away.
Father Arner sat next to Renold. His eyes traveled to the front of the church as they sat in silence for several moments. “You have a confession?” Arner asked.
“You know that I am not ready for forgiveness.”
The preacher nodded. “Then, how about you tell me your story?”
Renold watched the candle, formed his thoughts. He began. “I’ll start from the beginning…”
It started earlier this evening during my walk to the newspaper stand. I didn’t have anything planned for the night. I figured I’d buy the paper, see if anything interesting was in the news. I dropped the coins into the slot and took a paper. That was when I noticed a small card sitting atop the stand. I picked it up. It read: “Got a job for you.”
I turned around and saw Caylem standing behind me, watching. “Don’t have to leave your trash around, could have just asked me.” The silent Caylem raised an eyebrow.
It had been several months since I had seen him. He’s a strange guy. He’s got a young face, but old grey eyes. His white hair is combed back. I trust Caylem. He knows me. He knows what I need to hear. He knows when to tell me.
As so often in the past, Caylem took a folder from his coat and handed it to me. The folder contained little more than a few handwritten notes scribbles of times, places, events, and blurred snapshots. It seemed simple enough. I looked up at Caylem. He motioned his head to indicate down the street.
It was still early in the night, the street was filled with people, but a young woman stood out. A beautiful one, blonde hair, hour-glass figure, she turned just about every man’s head as she walked by. My eyes returned to Caylem. “And…?” I asked, knowing the answer.
He just continued to look down the street. I sighed and followed his gaze.
A hulking man step from the shadows of an alley. He had old clothes, pulled at the seams as if the stitches had been yanked apart from the inside. He probably had been wearing the same coverings for months, maybe years. What caught my attention most though: when he passed under a streetlight he didn’t cast a shadow.
“Vampire…” I muttered and turned back to Caylem. “Well, is this why you’ve sought me out?” He nodded. “Then let’s get him,” I said, maybe a little too cavalier for what we faced.
I turned around to look down the street, again. The man was gone.
“Damn…”
The woman continued to walked away.
“He’ll attack tonight then?” I asked Caylem. He nodded. “Well, we wait.”
Along the dimly lit street for several blocks we followed the woman keeping our distance.
“You always seem to find interesting diversions for my nights Caylem.” Again, he just nodded.
She finally reached her apartment. “The stalker should have attacked by now,” I muttered.
Caylem extended his hand, holding another card for me. I took it and looked down, wondering what my friend had to say. I moved to get under one of the few street lamps to read the words printed on the card.
As my eyes focused, a forceful blow from behind stuck my neck accompanied with a grunt.
I fell forward to my knees. The card fluttered into the shadows. I stood quickly and turned to face my attacker. The stalker stood there hissing through teeth as much animal as man. “She’s mine.”
“Yeah, not going to happen,” I uttered, stiffening my resolve.
I took a few steps back and saw the stalker’s eyes dart to the woman. She stood on her apartment stoop, Caylem at her side.
“Get her in,” I commanded Caylem.
As I was distracted, the stalker lunged at me. We both fell to the ground. His powerful hands pinned my shoulders to the sidewalk, the cement scratching against my back.
“Do you know who I am?” he hissed inches from my face.
“No,” I declared. “Nor do I care.”
In a quick, practiced and masterful move, I jerked by right arm free, reached to my hip, ripped out my six-gun and fired. The stalker’s eyes went wide. He rolled off me in a devastated grunt of pain.
“You aren’t really anyone special.”
I stood over him. He stared back at me. I pulled the trigger again; the bullet went through his heart.
“Killer! You killer!” came a scream from over my shoulder. It was the woman, aghast. Her mouth still wide from the cry.
I watched her for a moment, but didn’t respond to the accusation. It was true after all.
“You killed him,” the woman cried again.
I looked at the body, then at the gun still in my hand. “I did.” I shrugged, slid the Colt into the holster. I saw Caylem’s card a few feet away and picked it up.
“Why…Why do you think you have the right to take his life?” the woman demanded.
Our eyes met, and I could see past the brown into her soul. I could see the innocence behind her eyes. I knew nothing I could say would change her mind over what I had done. I shook my head and turned away. I moved quickly down the street, trying to push her from my mind. Caylem had already disappeared into the night. My hands sliding Caylem’s card into my pocket.
“That’s what happened.” Renold calmly told the preacher.
Arner didn’t say anything; again his eyes found their way to the front of the church.
“You’ve been coming to me for years,” he said after a long silence. “You tell me your stories, yet you seek no absolution.”
“I suppose,” Renold said. “Is this becoming a burden for you?”
The preacher sighed and looked at him. “No, I understand what you need. It is not forgiveness, but relief. All I can do is help you through your burdens.”
Renold shook his head. “Are you trying to comfort me?”
“Should I not? You feel guilty. To go out and kill one’s own kind, whether to save the innocent or not, is a difficult task.”
Renold stood up.
“I do what is right,” he said, not noticing Caylem’s card had found its way from his hand to the tile floor of the church.
“We’re done now father,” Renold said as he reached the end of the pew.
“Renold…” Farther Arner said standing as Renold Graves slipped through the church doors. Arner sighed and leaned over to pick up the fallen card.
“We all do God’s work,” Arner murmured tucking the card into his robe.
See...there it is...hope you enjoyed.
Comments:
Order comments Newest to Oldest Refresh Comments
Comment by 
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 21:56:37
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 21:56:37
Other than that it's bugging the heck out of me what was on that card, I like it, quite a lot!
Thanks for sharing, Random!
Thanks for sharing, Random!
Comment by 
Random on 08/06/2008 21:57:49
*sticks tounge out*
That's the point of the card.
And thanks.
Random on 08/06/2008 21:57:49
Quote by liam1965:
Other than that it's bugging the heck out of me what was on that card, I like it, quite a lot!
Thanks for sharing, Random!
*sticks tounge out*
That's the point of the card.
And thanks.
Comment by 
Raine on 08/06/2008 22:00:20
Raine on 08/06/2008 22:00:20
Wow.
That was really good, Random. I wanna know what the heck was on Caylem's card!
That was really good, Random. I wanna know what the heck was on Caylem's card!
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 22:01:44
Thanks Raine.
Random on 08/06/2008 22:01:44
Thanks Raine.
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 22:02:07
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 22:02:07
Most of my stuff on the site I gave are humor columns (or attempts at them). However, since you shared one of your fictions, here's one of mine...
Final Wish
“Excuse me, young man, but would you mind terribly much if I died here?”
It was an odd day, a strange day, a bad day. A Tuesday. I turned around to see who had made this absurd statement with a tired customer service smile plastered on my face and thoughts of my troubles in my head. Just what I needed. The car wouldn’t start this morning. My daughter’s dentist had just informed me that she would require braces. My feet hurt. Why do I get all the crazies.
Before me sat, in a wheel chair, probably the oldest woman I’d seen come to the park. You don’t see the octogenarian set visiting amusement parks, even one as nationally famous as the one I was working for. If they come at all, it is with children and grand children and (as often as not) great grand children surrounding them. This lady was quite alone.
I must have paused for longer than I intended, or had a puzzled look on my face, because she repeated “Son, I’d like to die here, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
My lord, she was serious. I couldn’t figure out what would make someone ask that question, it seemed so patently absurd. Was she toying with me? Did she have some burning desire to ride the Titan Coaster, knowing her frail body would not survive? Was it a joke?
“Ma’am, I heard the question, but I don’t understand.” I said, not quite sure how to proceed.
“Well,” she said, “do you have time for a story?”
I really didn’t, but I was also mildly curious. The clock on the wall said 11:39, it was too early for lunch, but I told myself that I had a customer in need, and corporate policy is to give the customers what they want, with a smile, and to avoid whenever possible answering in the negative, so I put up the “back in 30 minutes” sign and said “Why don’t we walk and you can tell me.”
I stepped behind the chair and began to push, and she started in on her story.
“It was 67 years ago that I met my Harold. There was a dance held in the town hall, and all the young ladies were encouraged to go, to dance with our servicemen newly returned from over seas. I wasn’t comfortable, it felt as if the responsibility for expressing the gratitude of the nation was entirely on our shoulders, and it just wasn’t fair. In those days, though, you didn’t rock the boat. You did what was asked of you, and so I went. I was just 18, my birthday just the week before.
“The boys were everything we’d feared. Years away from home, hearth and any women makes men brutish and crude, and although I didn’t begrudge them some time to readjust, I was not comfortable. One particularly aggressive soldier made a rude suggestion, and Harold stepped up and made him apologize. He’d seen me across the room, looking completely out of place, and had come to talk to me. I think to protect me.
“We talked for most of the dance, not realizing the time until my father arrived to pick me up. As we were bidding a quick goodbye, Harold asked me if I’d like to go with him to the new amusement park. ‘A date?’ I’d asked coyly. ‘Why not?’ he’d replied. I told him I would love to, and was whisked away by Father to the waiting car.
“Our first date, then, was right here in your park. This was before you were born, the year the park opened. It wasn’t nearly as big as it is today, just the one park and the one hotel for out of town guests surrounded by acre upon acre of empty swamp land. We walked and talked, we ate the treats and rode the rides, and the whole time I felt like I was floating on a cloud.
“June of the following year, we were married, and it was the most wonderful marriage I could ever have had. Of course we disagreed occasionally, married couples always do, but whenever we did, we’d come back to the park to walk and talk and remember and make up.
“We were married for 50 years, and we must have come to the park 300 times. Not always to make up, of course. We came to celebrate our birthdays. We came to console ourselves when we learned we could not have children. We came when the park opened new attractions. We came when the world just got to be too much to take. This park was our special place, and we used it as frequently as needed to celebrate the good times and help the bad ones pass quickly.
“When you built the EarthView ride, it became our favorite. By that time, we were both in our 40s, and no longer had interest in the faster rides, but EarthView was just our speed, as I’m sure you’re aware, with its 24 minute slow journey through the ages, culminating in a slow, peaceful two minute journey across the Sunset room, with the barest hint of sun’s last glow on one rim of the dome overhead, and the beginnings of stars on the other side.
“Harold always said that in all the world, that two minutes was the most at peace he ever felt. We’d hold hands and just watch the sky, projected on the dome, and no matter what we were there for, or what we’d been discussing, for those two minutes we’d be silent and just watch. And then soon the end of our time in the Sunset room would come, and our trip back down to the end of the ride, and we’d shake off the melancholy at having to leave and begin our conversation anew.
“18 years ago, my Harold got sick, and for a year I watched him get slowly weaker. There was nothing they could do. But he never complained, and we’d come to the park as often as we could and ride the EarthView. When we arrived, Harold was my dying husband, and when we left he was again, but while we were on the ride, and particularly while we were in the Sunset room, he was my young soldier, newly returned from the war and sweeping me off of my feet.
“One day, when we were in the room, Harold broke the silence, and told me that there was one star, brighter than the rest, that he’d always had a fondness for. I knew just the one he was talking about. He said that it was his star, and that after he was gone, if I ever needed him, I should ride the ride and look at his star, and he’d be watching me from the top of the dome.
“Well, after Harold died, I couldn’t bring myself to come back to the park. There were too many memories, too much pain to be alone in the place where my love and I had spent so much time together, and so in the last 17 years, I have not been back once.
“Two months ago I found out that I was dying. This isn’t the tragedy it might seem, I’ve had a full life, and without my Harold, the last 17 years haven’t been terribly good ones. We had no children, and most of our friends have long since passed, and so I am ready to die.
“But the thing is, my Harold is still up there, in that star. I know he is. He’s waiting for me, waiting until I join him, so we can go on to heaven together. I know that’s silly, but even if it is, I want my last sight of this life to be that star in that sky on that dome that we together loved so well. That room and that star are everything that gave my life meaning and joy.
“I woke up this morning, and I know it’s the day. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just a feeling in my bones, but I know there won’t be another morning for me. So I ask you, would it be too much trouble if I died here?”
My mind was reeling. I looked up and realized we’d walked clear to the other side of the grounds, and I hadn’t realized it. I had no idea how much time had gone by. Suddenly my troubles, the car, the braces, my feet, just didn’t seem as important. And without realizing where I’d been pushing her, we’d come to the entrance gate of the park nearest EarthView.
This was crazy. How was I going to explain this. I put an 85 year old woman onto a ride she had no business being on, and when she came back down, she was dead. That was going to look real good on my next performance review. And yet somehow, I couldn’t let her be denied.
Since it was Tuesday, the park closed early at 5pm (we close one park early each night for maintenance), so I took her inside and bought her lunch. It was 4:30 (where had the time gone?), but during our walk neither of us had eaten, so it was still lunch time. She didn’t eat much, whatever was killing her had clearly taken her appetite, but she chatted on politely as I ate, telling me more little details of Harold and their life together.
When we were done, the paying customers were filing out of the park. I pushed her in her chair over to the entrance to EarthView. The ride operators, just leaving the building, gave me an odd look as I opened the door and pushed her inside. But it was quitting time, if one of the customer service people wanted to show someone around after hours, it was none of their concern, and very soon they were out of sight and gone for the evening.
She got quiet as we made our way down the hallway into the ride-boarding room. The ride was still, now, having been shut down for the night. None of the music, none of the animatronics, none of the display lights were on. I pushed her over to the nearest car, bent down and lifted her little body out of her chair. She can’t have weighed more than 70 pounds, and I set her down easily in the car of the ride. Her deathbed. She looked at me gratefully as I climbed the ladder into the control room and gave me a last little wave as I disappeared inside.
I made sure to boot up all of the displays and the music and everything that makes the ride what it is before starting the car moving. I watched her progress through the ride on the closed circuit cameras, normally used to keep watch on teenagers who might try to climb out of the car mid ride and touch the displays. She looked peaceful. She looked happy.
For almost 20 minutes I watched her, occasionally catching a glint of a tear running down her face, and at last the car she was in reached the Sunset room. I waited about a minute, until she was dead center in the room, and then cut the forward motion and left her sitting in the silent stillness, watching the sky overhead.
She sat quietly for what must have been 10 minutes, and then suddenly she beamed a smile of pure joy and spoke a single word, obvious to me even though I had no microphones on in the room and could not hear it: Harold. Then she died. She just slumped down in her car and died. I started to turn my attention back to the controls, ready to bring her body back down and figure out what to do next, when out of the corner of my eye, one of the stars, the brightest I could see on the camera, twinkled. Clearly, brightly, in a way that it never had before in all the rides I’d taken on this ride during my time at the park. Twinkled, brightened, and then like the life of the woman who’d shared her story with me, the light faded and went out.
Final Wish
“Excuse me, young man, but would you mind terribly much if I died here?”
It was an odd day, a strange day, a bad day. A Tuesday. I turned around to see who had made this absurd statement with a tired customer service smile plastered on my face and thoughts of my troubles in my head. Just what I needed. The car wouldn’t start this morning. My daughter’s dentist had just informed me that she would require braces. My feet hurt. Why do I get all the crazies.
Before me sat, in a wheel chair, probably the oldest woman I’d seen come to the park. You don’t see the octogenarian set visiting amusement parks, even one as nationally famous as the one I was working for. If they come at all, it is with children and grand children and (as often as not) great grand children surrounding them. This lady was quite alone.
I must have paused for longer than I intended, or had a puzzled look on my face, because she repeated “Son, I’d like to die here, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
My lord, she was serious. I couldn’t figure out what would make someone ask that question, it seemed so patently absurd. Was she toying with me? Did she have some burning desire to ride the Titan Coaster, knowing her frail body would not survive? Was it a joke?
“Ma’am, I heard the question, but I don’t understand.” I said, not quite sure how to proceed.
“Well,” she said, “do you have time for a story?”
I really didn’t, but I was also mildly curious. The clock on the wall said 11:39, it was too early for lunch, but I told myself that I had a customer in need, and corporate policy is to give the customers what they want, with a smile, and to avoid whenever possible answering in the negative, so I put up the “back in 30 minutes” sign and said “Why don’t we walk and you can tell me.”
I stepped behind the chair and began to push, and she started in on her story.
“It was 67 years ago that I met my Harold. There was a dance held in the town hall, and all the young ladies were encouraged to go, to dance with our servicemen newly returned from over seas. I wasn’t comfortable, it felt as if the responsibility for expressing the gratitude of the nation was entirely on our shoulders, and it just wasn’t fair. In those days, though, you didn’t rock the boat. You did what was asked of you, and so I went. I was just 18, my birthday just the week before.
“The boys were everything we’d feared. Years away from home, hearth and any women makes men brutish and crude, and although I didn’t begrudge them some time to readjust, I was not comfortable. One particularly aggressive soldier made a rude suggestion, and Harold stepped up and made him apologize. He’d seen me across the room, looking completely out of place, and had come to talk to me. I think to protect me.
“We talked for most of the dance, not realizing the time until my father arrived to pick me up. As we were bidding a quick goodbye, Harold asked me if I’d like to go with him to the new amusement park. ‘A date?’ I’d asked coyly. ‘Why not?’ he’d replied. I told him I would love to, and was whisked away by Father to the waiting car.
“Our first date, then, was right here in your park. This was before you were born, the year the park opened. It wasn’t nearly as big as it is today, just the one park and the one hotel for out of town guests surrounded by acre upon acre of empty swamp land. We walked and talked, we ate the treats and rode the rides, and the whole time I felt like I was floating on a cloud.
“June of the following year, we were married, and it was the most wonderful marriage I could ever have had. Of course we disagreed occasionally, married couples always do, but whenever we did, we’d come back to the park to walk and talk and remember and make up.
“We were married for 50 years, and we must have come to the park 300 times. Not always to make up, of course. We came to celebrate our birthdays. We came to console ourselves when we learned we could not have children. We came when the park opened new attractions. We came when the world just got to be too much to take. This park was our special place, and we used it as frequently as needed to celebrate the good times and help the bad ones pass quickly.
“When you built the EarthView ride, it became our favorite. By that time, we were both in our 40s, and no longer had interest in the faster rides, but EarthView was just our speed, as I’m sure you’re aware, with its 24 minute slow journey through the ages, culminating in a slow, peaceful two minute journey across the Sunset room, with the barest hint of sun’s last glow on one rim of the dome overhead, and the beginnings of stars on the other side.
“Harold always said that in all the world, that two minutes was the most at peace he ever felt. We’d hold hands and just watch the sky, projected on the dome, and no matter what we were there for, or what we’d been discussing, for those two minutes we’d be silent and just watch. And then soon the end of our time in the Sunset room would come, and our trip back down to the end of the ride, and we’d shake off the melancholy at having to leave and begin our conversation anew.
“18 years ago, my Harold got sick, and for a year I watched him get slowly weaker. There was nothing they could do. But he never complained, and we’d come to the park as often as we could and ride the EarthView. When we arrived, Harold was my dying husband, and when we left he was again, but while we were on the ride, and particularly while we were in the Sunset room, he was my young soldier, newly returned from the war and sweeping me off of my feet.
“One day, when we were in the room, Harold broke the silence, and told me that there was one star, brighter than the rest, that he’d always had a fondness for. I knew just the one he was talking about. He said that it was his star, and that after he was gone, if I ever needed him, I should ride the ride and look at his star, and he’d be watching me from the top of the dome.
“Well, after Harold died, I couldn’t bring myself to come back to the park. There were too many memories, too much pain to be alone in the place where my love and I had spent so much time together, and so in the last 17 years, I have not been back once.
“Two months ago I found out that I was dying. This isn’t the tragedy it might seem, I’ve had a full life, and without my Harold, the last 17 years haven’t been terribly good ones. We had no children, and most of our friends have long since passed, and so I am ready to die.
“But the thing is, my Harold is still up there, in that star. I know he is. He’s waiting for me, waiting until I join him, so we can go on to heaven together. I know that’s silly, but even if it is, I want my last sight of this life to be that star in that sky on that dome that we together loved so well. That room and that star are everything that gave my life meaning and joy.
“I woke up this morning, and I know it’s the day. Don’t ask me how I know, it’s just a feeling in my bones, but I know there won’t be another morning for me. So I ask you, would it be too much trouble if I died here?”
My mind was reeling. I looked up and realized we’d walked clear to the other side of the grounds, and I hadn’t realized it. I had no idea how much time had gone by. Suddenly my troubles, the car, the braces, my feet, just didn’t seem as important. And without realizing where I’d been pushing her, we’d come to the entrance gate of the park nearest EarthView.
This was crazy. How was I going to explain this. I put an 85 year old woman onto a ride she had no business being on, and when she came back down, she was dead. That was going to look real good on my next performance review. And yet somehow, I couldn’t let her be denied.
Since it was Tuesday, the park closed early at 5pm (we close one park early each night for maintenance), so I took her inside and bought her lunch. It was 4:30 (where had the time gone?), but during our walk neither of us had eaten, so it was still lunch time. She didn’t eat much, whatever was killing her had clearly taken her appetite, but she chatted on politely as I ate, telling me more little details of Harold and their life together.
When we were done, the paying customers were filing out of the park. I pushed her in her chair over to the entrance to EarthView. The ride operators, just leaving the building, gave me an odd look as I opened the door and pushed her inside. But it was quitting time, if one of the customer service people wanted to show someone around after hours, it was none of their concern, and very soon they were out of sight and gone for the evening.
She got quiet as we made our way down the hallway into the ride-boarding room. The ride was still, now, having been shut down for the night. None of the music, none of the animatronics, none of the display lights were on. I pushed her over to the nearest car, bent down and lifted her little body out of her chair. She can’t have weighed more than 70 pounds, and I set her down easily in the car of the ride. Her deathbed. She looked at me gratefully as I climbed the ladder into the control room and gave me a last little wave as I disappeared inside.
I made sure to boot up all of the displays and the music and everything that makes the ride what it is before starting the car moving. I watched her progress through the ride on the closed circuit cameras, normally used to keep watch on teenagers who might try to climb out of the car mid ride and touch the displays. She looked peaceful. She looked happy.
For almost 20 minutes I watched her, occasionally catching a glint of a tear running down her face, and at last the car she was in reached the Sunset room. I waited about a minute, until she was dead center in the room, and then cut the forward motion and left her sitting in the silent stillness, watching the sky overhead.
She sat quietly for what must have been 10 minutes, and then suddenly she beamed a smile of pure joy and spoke a single word, obvious to me even though I had no microphones on in the room and could not hear it: Harold. Then she died. She just slumped down in her car and died. I started to turn my attention back to the controls, ready to bring her body back down and figure out what to do next, when out of the corner of my eye, one of the stars, the brightest I could see on the camera, twinkled. Clearly, brightly, in a way that it never had before in all the rides I’d taken on this ride during my time at the park. Twinkled, brightened, and then like the life of the woman who’d shared her story with me, the light faded and went out.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 22:12:12
Random on 08/06/2008 22:12:12
lovely story.
stealling my thunder
Joke Liam, it is a lovely story.
stealling my thunder Joke Liam, it is a lovely story.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 22:18:01
Raine on 08/06/2008 22:18:01
:cry:
That was beautiful... I am all teary eyed right now Liam. I wish Bobber was here and not at work cause I just wanna love on him.
That was beautiful... I am all teary eyed right now Liam. I wish Bobber was here and not at work cause I just wanna love on him.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 22:18:59
Raine on 08/06/2008 22:18:59
Wowser you guys are both really wonderful writers!
Damn. Raine... seriously impressed.
Damn. Raine... seriously impressed.
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 22:24:34
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 22:24:34
Aw. Thanks. :-)
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:00:10
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:00:10
OK... HArdball just announced that Hillary is willing to allow her name to be placed BACK in for nomination at the convention... looking for a trusted link... 
Where the HELL is capt???
I need to bounce this off of him!!!
Where the HELL is capt??? I need to bounce this off of him!!!
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:02:54
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:02:54
:rage: Gd(*$%^&
In a video posted on YouTube and uncovered by ABC News today, Clinton told a group of supporters last week that she is looking for a way for her delegates to be heard at the convention.
Asked whether her name will be put into nomination on the first ballot, she answered, "I'm asked this question every day."
"We're trying to work all this through with the Obama campaign and the DNC," she added.
Clinton also said that Democrats would come out of the convention stronger and more unified if her delegates believed they had been treated well.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:08:10
Random on 08/06/2008 23:08:10
...Jesuus...Cripes
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:11:51
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:11:51
Dear god... She had a chance to shut this ALL down... and she instead is encouraging the delegates to vote for her!
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:13:42
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:13:42
I'm tellin' ya, I think her real plan is to try to sabotage Obama while trying to look like she's totally behind him, so that she can come back in 4 years as the savior of the party, gracefully willing to forgive us all and come to our rescue against McCain.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:16:47
Random on 08/06/2008 23:16:47
Random can't watch the video...He'll go back to writing.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:20:55
Random on 08/06/2008 23:20:55
Here...Random's only coherent decent story. (some of the later ones in the story i like...but hard to put them up, because they feed off the others.)
From The Night
A young blonde woman sat in the now empty church. She sat in the first few rows, looking up at the altar, lost in her own though. Next to her was a small shoe box. The church wasn’t the best in the city, but it had money. She smiled to herself. “So…This is where he goes,” she said to herself. Footsteps came up behind her.
She turned her head to the man approaching her. “You’re Caylem, right?” she asked. The man stopped and she laughed. “I’m a reporter, I do a lot of digging.” She leaned back and looked up at him. He had white hair and grey eyes. The man’s face was kind, but she could see cold eyes. “You look different than I imagined.”
The man raised an eyebrow, questioning her.
“Remember me then?” she asked. “I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life a few weeks ago.”
Caylem shrugged and looked to the altar. “He comes here often?” she asked. He shrugged again. “Ah...Why are you here?”
He smiled slightly and shrugged. He pulled a card from his coat and handed it to the woman. It read: “Why?”
“Why what?” she asked. He shrugged softly and started to walk away. “Why what?” she called after him, standing. Caylem left the church, leaving her standing there, watching and wondering. She looked to the box. Sighing softly she sat down and pushed off the lid and put the card inside of it. Again she looked at the altar.
* * *
Father Arner sat at his desk in the back of the church. His office was meant to be inviting for parishioners, or anyone else who needed him. Along one wall was a couch, with end tables on each side, both with a few magazines he’d gathered. His desk faced the door. Next to the door was a water color, something he found he needed quite often for distressed visitors.
He was going over a sermon for Sunday. The clock on his desk showed it was well past midnight. His eyelids started to grow very heavy as the clock ticked on. He put the paper down and leaned back in the chair, trying to rest his eyes, hoping to get more energy to continue.
In the silence his mind wandered to someone who often came to him, looking for solace. Renold Graves almost always came to Arner, telling him of his life, and adventures. Though outwardly cold, Renold showed sympathy for those who were suffering. The Father wondered what could have happened to turn the man into stone.
The door, to the office, burst open and a figure stumbled into the room. Arner shot up in the chair and saw the man fall to his knee. He moved quickly around and saw a disturbing scene. He recognized the man as Renold. Graves’ black cloak and shirt were covered in blood, as were his hands. His normally straight back black and grey hair was astray, and his breath was ragged. He saw the coat was open, and holster was empty.
Arner leaned over, putting an arm around the man. “Father,” Renold gasped.
“Dear Lord, what happened?” The priest slowly helped him up, and moved him to the couch.
His breathing became more erratic. “I…I had no choice. I couldn’t let…” His eyes lost their focus, as if lost in a memory.
The Father saw something that disturbed him. Renold’s teeth were stained red. “Renold,” he gasped, “you didn’t…”
“No choice,” he said, in a distant voice. His eyes on the ceiling”
Arner leaned over Graves. “Renold…”
“I…” he said, before rolling his head to stare at father Arner. “My fault…No choice…” His eyes locked onto Arner’s. The father could see them begging up at him.
Arner gave Renold some water, waiting for Renold to calm down. It was several minutes before Graves began to breathe stability. “Renold, tell me what happened.”
Renold tried to pull himself up into a sitting position. Arner put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him lying down. Graves relaxed his body and took some more deep breaths. After a few moments he began his story.
* * *
For the past couple of nights attacks have been occurring in the park. After receiving information from Caylem, I knew the attacker must’ve been a vampire preying on those in the park. I waited till sunset and made my way into the center of the park. The moon moved slowly across the sky as I waited, for something anything to happen. Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t place what it could have been.
A scream shattered the hours’ worth of silence. I ran towards its source. But I was too late; a young woman was on the ground. Her green lifeless eyes stared up into the moon. The creature was bent over the girl, his mouth was on her neck.
I stood, out of breath for a moment. It didn’t notice me. I moved quickly and grabbed the back of the collar of its shirt. With a hard pull, it flew back a few feet. As it tried to get back up, I moved over it and put my arm against it’s throat.
Despite its throat being crushed, it managed to hiss at me. Slowly I pulled the Colt 45 from my waist and pressed it against the creature’s chest. I could see its eyes pleading with me. In response I pulled the trigger, killing it instantly.
Something pressed against my back. I didn’t move, fearing the worse. “Interesting, drop the gun.” It was a female’s voice. I wondered if I had guessed wrong, that more then one vampire was hunting in the park. Instead of pushing my luck, I let go of my Colt.
“Stand up, and turn around.” I followed her instructions. As I turned around, she pressed the gun to my chest, against my beating heart.
Behind the weapon was a young woman, blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. She had brown eyes. Something was familiar about her, I couldn’t place it. For a moment we stood in silence, watching each other.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You don’t remember?” I didn’t respond. “No…I suppose you wouldn’t,” she said softly. “You saved my life.”
Our eyes met and I could see into her soul, and saw something familiar, something that pulled at my memory, begging to be released. “Who are you?” I asked again.
“My name is Cassandra. And I know who you are, Renold Graves. I’ve done digging, ever since we met a few weeks ago, with your silent friend. You killed that vampire.”
Slowly recognition dawned on me. I remembered the incident. “Why are you here?”
She stood in silence, as if searching for the right words. “I know what you are, and I want to be one too.”
“No,” I said simply.
Again she stood in silence, weighing the words she was going to say carefully. “I’m dying. They say I have six months. I don’t want to die. You can save me.” Her tone was pleading.
I saw into her soul, and saw the sadness there, knowing she wasn’t lying. But I couldn’t do it.
“No,” I said again.
“Do it,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “Do it, or I’ll shoot you.”
I could feel my own eyes become cold as I stared her down. “No, you won’t.”
Her hand started to shake. A rang out, and I felt the bullet move through my body. Pain rushed surged me, but I knew it had missed my heart. It wasn’t the woman who shot me. There was another vampire in the park, I had been very careless.
I saw Cassandra then. The gun had fallen to the ground. Blood covered her chest, and I thought it could have been mine for a moment. But I saw the pain in her eyes. Time seemed to slow as she fell to the ground.
I lost control then. I can’t remember what happened. Regaining control a few moments later, the shooter was at my feet, dead, gun in his hand. Quickly I went to the women’s side and knelt beside her. She was still alive, but slipping away, quickly. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t let her die because of my own carelessness.
* * *
Father Arner sat looking at Renold. He had lost consciousness before he could finish his story. The priest sat in moments, looking at the man, unsure of what to do. He decided to leave him alone for and decided to go pray.
The church was empty, except for a single woman sitting in the first row. As he entered, he saw her slide something into a box beside her. She turned and looked to the altar. Arner smiled and nodded to her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
The woman shook her head slightly, looking ahead at the altar. “I…” She started, then looked up at the Father and smiled. “I just came to pray.”
He nodded slightly. “If you need anything…”
“No…I’ve finished.” She nodded again, and stood. She made her way to the exit.
Arner saw a box on the pew. He looked back up, ready to call after the woman, but she was gone. He moved closer and picked up the box. The top wasn’t secured, and fell off. Inside, Father Arner saw a Colt 45, along with a card inside.
From The Night
A young blonde woman sat in the now empty church. She sat in the first few rows, looking up at the altar, lost in her own though. Next to her was a small shoe box. The church wasn’t the best in the city, but it had money. She smiled to herself. “So…This is where he goes,” she said to herself. Footsteps came up behind her.
She turned her head to the man approaching her. “You’re Caylem, right?” she asked. The man stopped and she laughed. “I’m a reporter, I do a lot of digging.” She leaned back and looked up at him. He had white hair and grey eyes. The man’s face was kind, but she could see cold eyes. “You look different than I imagined.”
The man raised an eyebrow, questioning her.
“Remember me then?” she asked. “I never had a chance to thank you for saving my life a few weeks ago.”
Caylem shrugged and looked to the altar. “He comes here often?” she asked. He shrugged again. “Ah...Why are you here?”
He smiled slightly and shrugged. He pulled a card from his coat and handed it to the woman. It read: “Why?”
“Why what?” she asked. He shrugged softly and started to walk away. “Why what?” she called after him, standing. Caylem left the church, leaving her standing there, watching and wondering. She looked to the box. Sighing softly she sat down and pushed off the lid and put the card inside of it. Again she looked at the altar.
Father Arner sat at his desk in the back of the church. His office was meant to be inviting for parishioners, or anyone else who needed him. Along one wall was a couch, with end tables on each side, both with a few magazines he’d gathered. His desk faced the door. Next to the door was a water color, something he found he needed quite often for distressed visitors.
He was going over a sermon for Sunday. The clock on his desk showed it was well past midnight. His eyelids started to grow very heavy as the clock ticked on. He put the paper down and leaned back in the chair, trying to rest his eyes, hoping to get more energy to continue.
In the silence his mind wandered to someone who often came to him, looking for solace. Renold Graves almost always came to Arner, telling him of his life, and adventures. Though outwardly cold, Renold showed sympathy for those who were suffering. The Father wondered what could have happened to turn the man into stone.
The door, to the office, burst open and a figure stumbled into the room. Arner shot up in the chair and saw the man fall to his knee. He moved quickly around and saw a disturbing scene. He recognized the man as Renold. Graves’ black cloak and shirt were covered in blood, as were his hands. His normally straight back black and grey hair was astray, and his breath was ragged. He saw the coat was open, and holster was empty.
Arner leaned over, putting an arm around the man. “Father,” Renold gasped.
“Dear Lord, what happened?” The priest slowly helped him up, and moved him to the couch.
His breathing became more erratic. “I…I had no choice. I couldn’t let…” His eyes lost their focus, as if lost in a memory.
The Father saw something that disturbed him. Renold’s teeth were stained red. “Renold,” he gasped, “you didn’t…”
“No choice,” he said, in a distant voice. His eyes on the ceiling”
Arner leaned over Graves. “Renold…”
“I…” he said, before rolling his head to stare at father Arner. “My fault…No choice…” His eyes locked onto Arner’s. The father could see them begging up at him.
Arner gave Renold some water, waiting for Renold to calm down. It was several minutes before Graves began to breathe stability. “Renold, tell me what happened.”
Renold tried to pull himself up into a sitting position. Arner put a firm hand on his shoulder, keeping him lying down. Graves relaxed his body and took some more deep breaths. After a few moments he began his story.
For the past couple of nights attacks have been occurring in the park. After receiving information from Caylem, I knew the attacker must’ve been a vampire preying on those in the park. I waited till sunset and made my way into the center of the park. The moon moved slowly across the sky as I waited, for something anything to happen. Something felt wrong, but I couldn’t place what it could have been.
A scream shattered the hours’ worth of silence. I ran towards its source. But I was too late; a young woman was on the ground. Her green lifeless eyes stared up into the moon. The creature was bent over the girl, his mouth was on her neck.
I stood, out of breath for a moment. It didn’t notice me. I moved quickly and grabbed the back of the collar of its shirt. With a hard pull, it flew back a few feet. As it tried to get back up, I moved over it and put my arm against it’s throat.
Despite its throat being crushed, it managed to hiss at me. Slowly I pulled the Colt 45 from my waist and pressed it against the creature’s chest. I could see its eyes pleading with me. In response I pulled the trigger, killing it instantly.
Something pressed against my back. I didn’t move, fearing the worse. “Interesting, drop the gun.” It was a female’s voice. I wondered if I had guessed wrong, that more then one vampire was hunting in the park. Instead of pushing my luck, I let go of my Colt.
“Stand up, and turn around.” I followed her instructions. As I turned around, she pressed the gun to my chest, against my beating heart.
Behind the weapon was a young woman, blonde hair that fell past her shoulders. She had brown eyes. Something was familiar about her, I couldn’t place it. For a moment we stood in silence, watching each other.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“You don’t remember?” I didn’t respond. “No…I suppose you wouldn’t,” she said softly. “You saved my life.”
Our eyes met and I could see into her soul, and saw something familiar, something that pulled at my memory, begging to be released. “Who are you?” I asked again.
“My name is Cassandra. And I know who you are, Renold Graves. I’ve done digging, ever since we met a few weeks ago, with your silent friend. You killed that vampire.”
Slowly recognition dawned on me. I remembered the incident. “Why are you here?”
She stood in silence, as if searching for the right words. “I know what you are, and I want to be one too.”
“No,” I said simply.
Again she stood in silence, weighing the words she was going to say carefully. “I’m dying. They say I have six months. I don’t want to die. You can save me.” Her tone was pleading.
I saw into her soul, and saw the sadness there, knowing she wasn’t lying. But I couldn’t do it.
“No,” I said again.
“Do it,” she said, tears coming to her eyes. “Do it, or I’ll shoot you.”
I could feel my own eyes become cold as I stared her down. “No, you won’t.”
Her hand started to shake. A rang out, and I felt the bullet move through my body. Pain rushed surged me, but I knew it had missed my heart. It wasn’t the woman who shot me. There was another vampire in the park, I had been very careless.
I saw Cassandra then. The gun had fallen to the ground. Blood covered her chest, and I thought it could have been mine for a moment. But I saw the pain in her eyes. Time seemed to slow as she fell to the ground.
I lost control then. I can’t remember what happened. Regaining control a few moments later, the shooter was at my feet, dead, gun in his hand. Quickly I went to the women’s side and knelt beside her. She was still alive, but slipping away, quickly. I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t let her die because of my own carelessness.
Father Arner sat looking at Renold. He had lost consciousness before he could finish his story. The priest sat in moments, looking at the man, unsure of what to do. He decided to leave him alone for and decided to go pray.
The church was empty, except for a single woman sitting in the first row. As he entered, he saw her slide something into a box beside her. She turned and looked to the altar. Arner smiled and nodded to her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
The woman shook her head slightly, looking ahead at the altar. “I…” She started, then looked up at the Father and smiled. “I just came to pray.”
He nodded slightly. “If you need anything…”
“No…I’ve finished.” She nodded again, and stood. She made her way to the exit.
Arner saw a box on the pew. He looked back up, ready to call after the woman, but she was gone. He moved closer and picked up the box. The top wasn’t secured, and fell off. Inside, Father Arner saw a Colt 45, along with a card inside.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:21:56
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:21:56
Oh... Random... it gets better... From CNN.
A grassroots organization of Hillary Clinton supporters has announced plans to march in Denver on the same day the New York senator is set to address her party’s faithful during the Democratic convention there.
The march will take place on August 26 and is being organized by 18 Million Voices Rise Hillary Rise. The march will be accompanied by a festival in downtown Denver and additional coordinated marches across the country on the same day.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:23:33
Is it safe to point out that 18 million voices is a misnomer, and what really it would be is 3-million (tops) since most of the Hillary supporters have moved on.
Random on 08/06/2008 23:23:33
Quote by Raine:
Oh... Random... it gets better...From CNN.A grassroots organization of Hillary Clinton supporters has announced plans to march in Denver on the same day the New York senator is set to address her party’s faithful during the Democratic convention there.
The march will take place on August 26 and is being organized by 18 Million Voices Rise Hillary Rise. The march will be accompanied by a festival in downtown Denver and additional coordinated marches across the country on the same day.
Is it safe to point out that 18 million voices is a misnomer, and what really it would be is 3-million (tops) since most of the Hillary supporters have moved on.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:26:44
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:26:44
Oh and btw... F*ck you Bill Clinton.
I used to love you... now I think you are a nasty bitter old man.
I used to love you... now I think you are a nasty bitter old man.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:27:16
Bill clinton is John McCain?
Random on 08/06/2008 23:27:16
Quote by Raine:
Oh and btw... F*ck you Bill Clinton.
I used to love you... now I think you are a nasty bitter old man.
Bill clinton is John McCain?
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:29:19
How fitting that the opening advertisement was for KY.
Random on 08/06/2008 23:29:19
Quote by Raine:
This is why I think this about Bill Clinton.
How fitting that the opening advertisement was for KY.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:31:12
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:31:12
My respect... and it was a GREAT one... for Bill Clinton is GONE.
Totally gone.
Totally gone.
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:32:42
Actually... it seems as so.
That man has NOT endorsed our party nominee. and that is shameful.
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:32:42
Quote by Random:Quote by Raine:
Oh and btw... F*ck you Bill Clinton.
I used to love you... now I think you are a nasty bitter old man.
Bill clinton is John McCain?
Actually... it seems as so.
That man has NOT endorsed our party nominee. and that is shameful.
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:34:25
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:34:25
I believe that Bill Clinton is suffering the personality changes that are documented to occur occasionally with bypass surgery. Because he's definitely not the man I respected up until the way he behaved in this campaign, I agree with you 100%, Raine.
(Random, I look forward to reading your second story, but I'm dozing off now, and so I won't do it justice if I try to read it now...)
(Random, I look forward to reading your second story, but I'm dozing off now, and so I won't do it justice if I try to read it now...)
Comment by Raine on 08/06/2008 23:36:11
Yes, that is safe assumption.
When it comes to this story... I just keep thinking of beating a dead horse. It is tiring and embaraasing to me as a feminist and a woman.
Raine on 08/06/2008 23:36:11
Quote by Random:Quote by Raine:
Oh... Random... it gets better...From CNN.A grassroots organization of Hillary Clinton supporters has announced plans to march in Denver on the same day the New York senator is set to address her party’s faithful during the Democratic convention there.
The march will take place on August 26 and is being organized by 18 Million Voices Rise Hillary Rise. The march will be accompanied by a festival in downtown Denver and additional coordinated marches across the country on the same day.
Is it safe to point out that 18 million voices is a misnomer, and what really it would be is 3-million (tops) since most of the Hillary supporters have moved on.
When it comes to this story... I just keep thinking of beating a dead horse. It is tiring and embaraasing to me as a feminist and a woman.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:36:41
Random on 08/06/2008 23:36:41
Wow...way to blame Clayburn.
And again, he jumps on the race thing (She didn't mention it, he infered it.) If he was smart, he'd have not mentioned at all, let her bring it up and slap it down.
And Liam, don't worry, if i ever find Payment I'll be putting that up. (That's my really good one)
And again, he jumps on the race thing (She didn't mention it, he infered it.) If he was smart, he'd have not mentioned at all, let her bring it up and slap it down.
And Liam, don't worry, if i ever find Payment I'll be putting that up. (That's my really good one)
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:37:26
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:37:26
The thing is, if that really is her goal (to sabotage Obama while looking supportive) she's doing masterfully, thus far!
Because most people don't see it.
All of her speeches are (in my opinion) taylored to sound concilliatory while issuing just enough "we got screwed 'cause we're women" key phrases to keep her core group of PUMAs riled up and ticked off enough to stay home or even vote for McCain.
It's evil and misguided (if that's the attempt), but you have to give her kudos for how well she's managing it.
On the other hand, if she's honestly trying for party unity, you have to wonder why she's so inept at that. :-)
Because most people don't see it.
All of her speeches are (in my opinion) taylored to sound concilliatory while issuing just enough "we got screwed 'cause we're women" key phrases to keep her core group of PUMAs riled up and ticked off enough to stay home or even vote for McCain.
It's evil and misguided (if that's the attempt), but you have to give her kudos for how well she's managing it.
On the other hand, if she's honestly trying for party unity, you have to wonder why she's so inept at that. :-)
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:38:38
Well, i've already expressed my opinions on feminism, so i won't go into that. But Hillary is a wonderful candidate, be a great president. She should have run four years ago. She'd have won, and we wouldn't be where we are.
Instead she decided to wait and got caught up in the "thing" called Obama.
Random on 08/06/2008 23:38:38
Quote by Raine:Yes, that is safe assumption.Quote by Random:Quote by Raine:
Oh... Random... it gets better...From CNN.A grassroots organization of Hillary Clinton supporters has announced plans to march in Denver on the same day the New York senator is set to address her party’s faithful during the Democratic convention there.
The march will take place on August 26 and is being organized by 18 Million Voices Rise Hillary Rise. The march will be accompanied by a festival in downtown Denver and additional coordinated marches across the country on the same day.
Is it safe to point out that 18 million voices is a misnomer, and what really it would be is 3-million (tops) since most of the Hillary supporters have moved on.
When it comes to this story... I just keep thinking of beating a dead horse. It is tiring and embaraasing to me as a feminist and a woman.
Well, i've already expressed my opinions on feminism, so i won't go into that. But Hillary is a wonderful candidate, be a great president. She should have run four years ago. She'd have won, and we wouldn't be where we are.
Instead she decided to wait and got caught up in the "thing" called Obama.
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:41:18
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:41:18
Wow, he is a dick in that interview. That is NOT the President I so revered... Sigh.
How the mighty fall.
(I knew it, I've complained about it a lot on my blog, but still, it's hard to watch)
How the mighty fall.
(I knew it, I've complained about it a lot on my blog, but still, it's hard to watch)
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:47:00
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:47:00
I'm really wondering what Random's opinion of feminism is.
My opinion depends on whether you're talking feminism (the philosophy) or Feminism[tm] the organized movement.
In a lot of ways (and in some circles), Feminism has been co-opted in much the same way that the neocons have co-opted the Republican party. Lower case feminism is absolutely right and proper, there's simply no reason why any human being in this day and age should be in any way treated differently because of their gender, race or sexual orientation.
But I get a bit peeved at the Feminists who would rather spend their time talking trash about me and anyone who shares my particular chromosomes and dangly bits than to realize that ALL men are not the enemy, and in truth, if sexism is as bad as they say, then they're going to need the support of some of those currently in power in order to break the stranglehold.
(That's not saying women need men, that's just the nature of minorities. Slavery could not have been broken if it was only the slaves that disagreed with it, because they didn't have the power to do anything about it, it required some of the "ruling class" at the time to work on their behalf.)
Now, I look forward to seeing whether I get in trouble for that opinion, because it's not politically correct to say those things, but they are nevertheless painful truths.
My opinion depends on whether you're talking feminism (the philosophy) or Feminism[tm] the organized movement.
In a lot of ways (and in some circles), Feminism has been co-opted in much the same way that the neocons have co-opted the Republican party. Lower case feminism is absolutely right and proper, there's simply no reason why any human being in this day and age should be in any way treated differently because of their gender, race or sexual orientation.
But I get a bit peeved at the Feminists who would rather spend their time talking trash about me and anyone who shares my particular chromosomes and dangly bits than to realize that ALL men are not the enemy, and in truth, if sexism is as bad as they say, then they're going to need the support of some of those currently in power in order to break the stranglehold.
(That's not saying women need men, that's just the nature of minorities. Slavery could not have been broken if it was only the slaves that disagreed with it, because they didn't have the power to do anything about it, it required some of the "ruling class" at the time to work on their behalf.)
Now, I look forward to seeing whether I get in trouble for that opinion, because it's not politically correct to say those things, but they are nevertheless painful truths.
Comment by liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:48:59
How is that even close? 51% say yes it's respectful? In what universe?
I suppose it depends on what you mean by "respectful", he hasn't come right out and called Obama a "dumb n-word", but he certainly has played fast and loose with the facts, and that takes a certain disrespect for the voters, if not for the opposition.
liam1965 on 08/06/2008 23:48:59
Quote by Raine:
4Free this Poll!
How is that even close? 51% say yes it's respectful? In what universe?
I suppose it depends on what you mean by "respectful", he hasn't come right out and called Obama a "dumb n-word", but he certainly has played fast and loose with the facts, and that takes a certain disrespect for the voters, if not for the opposition.
Comment by Random on 08/06/2008 23:51:32
Random's opinion he has agreed with the ideals, not necessarly the people. Some are great, others (the ones in power or the Harriets of the world) make it into a evil thing that make me feel like i should be guitly for having a
.
Random on 08/06/2008 23:51:32
Quote by liam1965:
I'm really wondering what Random's opinion of feminism is.
My opinion depends on whether you're talking feminism (the philosophy) or Feminism[tm] the organized movement.
In a lot of ways (and in some circles), Feminism has been co-opted in much the same way that the neocons have co-opted the Republican party. Lower case feminism is absolutely right and proper, there's simply no reason why any human being in this day and age should be in any way treated differently because of their gender, race or sexual orientation.
But I get a bit peeved at the Feminists who would rather spend their time talking trash about me and anyone who shares my particular chromosomes and dangly bits than to realize that ALL men are not the enemy, and in truth, if sexism is as bad as they say, then they're going to need the support of some of those currently in power in order to break the stranglehold.
(That's not saying women need men, that's just the nature of minorities. Slavery could not have been broken if it was only the slaves that disagreed with it, because they didn't have the power to do anything about it, it required some of the "ruling class" at the time to work on their behalf.)
Now, I look forward to seeing whether I get in trouble for that opinion, because it's not politically correct to say those things, but they are nevertheless painful truths.
Random's opinion he has agreed with the ideals, not necessarly the people. Some are great, others (the ones in power or the Harriets of the world) make it into a evil thing that make me feel like i should be guitly for having a
.
Comment by Raine on 08/07/2008 00:01:23
Raine on 08/07/2008 00:01:23
Guys. Feminism is pretty simple...
Feminists just want people to be treated equally. That is it. I don't ever want to be treated like I am a lessor of two sexes. My husband. Bobber, is a feminsit as well. HE doesn't want me doing that to him.
Nothing to be worried about from here.
Unless you wanna see me burn my bra...
(you think Harriet ever did that?)
Feminists just want people to be treated equally. That is it. I don't ever want to be treated like I am a lessor of two sexes. My husband. Bobber, is a feminsit as well. HE doesn't want me doing that to him.
Nothing to be worried about from here.
Unless you wanna see me burn my bra...
(you think Harriet ever did that?)
Comment by Raine on 08/07/2008 00:03:30
Raine on 08/07/2008 00:03:30
Psst... did y'all know that Woman make up 51% of the American population?
Comment by Raine on 08/07/2008 00:04:22
Raine on 08/07/2008 00:04:22
:thud: KO is on... and playing a clip of John MCCain saying that we should ALL inflate our tires!!!
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:06:57
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:06:57
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Comment by Random on 08/07/2008 00:21:35
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
Random on 08/07/2008 00:21:35
Quote by Mondobubba:
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:22:48
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:22:48
Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
Comment by Random on 08/07/2008 00:27:23
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
Random on 08/07/2008 00:27:23
Quote by Mondobubba:Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:34:53
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:34:53
Duval County/Jacksonville takes too slots in Best Persons! We RULE! :metal:
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:36:34
It was the first opportunity that, I Mondo, had to say this you, Random. :rofl:
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 00:36:34
Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
It was the first opportunity that, I Mondo, had to say this you, Random. :rofl:
Comment by Random on 08/07/2008 00:44:44
WEll, as one of the few poeple's opinions on here i respect the most (sorry rest of ya) I'd like your opinion of the story.
Random on 08/07/2008 00:44:44
Quote by Mondobubba:Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:
So he attacks Obama for the tire thing, then says he agrees with him? Does this constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
It was the first opportunity that, I Mondo, had to say this you, Random. :rofl:
WEll, as one of the few poeple's opinions on here i respect the most (sorry rest of ya) I'd like your opinion of the story.
Comment by Raine on 08/07/2008 00:49:14
Raine on 08/07/2008 00:49:14
Breezing in and out... Planning planning for the NY trip...
Busy busy. I am gonna have to catch the rest of the KO show later.
Busy busy. I am gonna have to catch the rest of the KO show later.
Comment by Raine on 08/07/2008 00:54:23
Raine on 08/07/2008 00:54:23
reminder that Momma os going to be on Larry King tonite!
for the Howah! :metal:
for the Howah! :metal:
Comment by 
trojanrabbit on 08/07/2008 00:56:06
The TiVo is set, but I'm in front of the TeeVee anyway.
trojanrabbit on 08/07/2008 00:56:06
Quote by Raine:
reminder that Momma os going to be on Larry King tonite!
for the Howah! :metal:
The TiVo is set, but I'm in front of the TeeVee anyway.
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 01:00:38
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 01:00:38
Quote by Random:Quote by Mondobubba:Quote by Random:
constitute a flip flop? I think so.
Hey Mondo. Read my story...your lord and master RAndom commands it.
Well you don't have to.
:Church Lady: Weelllll somebody loves himself a little too much.
you've known me how long? and you just got that?
It was the first opportunity that, I Mondo, had to say this you, Random. :rofl:
WEll, as one of the few poeple's opinions on here i respect the most (sorry rest of ya) I'd like your opinion of the story.
I liked it, Random.
Comment by trojanrabbit on 08/07/2008 01:04:43
trojanrabbit on 08/07/2008 01:04:43
WOW! The cost of jet fuel is soaring, so airlines have to find other ways to get some money. Whoda thunk it?
You even get surprises like melted chocolate and vomit in the seat back!
You even get surprises like melted chocolate and vomit in the seat back!
Comment by Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 01:06:14
Mondobubba on 08/07/2008 01:06:14
Tonight's movie, the 1962 classic "To Kill a Mocking Bird."
The character of Dill is based on what well know writer friend of Harper Lee? Any one??
The character of Dill is based on what well know writer friend of Harper Lee? Any one??