Playing the Odds_My Overseas Volunteer Trip to Dumbistan in West Asia_Two Commuters_His Super Power
Catalog Guide:
Playing the Odds
“Hey, Ryan.” “Foley! What’s up?” “You hear ‘bout the lotto?” “Of course! Bought a ticket.” “You? I thought you didn’t believe in that…” “I don’t. But with a prize of almost a billion, I figured… can’t hurt. Doing my part. Goes to the schools and all that…” “You said some politician skims...” “Same dif. They take their cut either way… I figure it’s a win-win. Brings the customers in.” “You have an edge because you’re the licensed seller…?” “Course not, Fole. How would that look? Bought an app though. Uses algorithms to shave a few points off the astronomical odds.” “Mr. Wizard, eh?” “Yeah… Odds...
My Overseas Volunteer Trip to Dumbistan in West Asia
Day -1: I’m hoping that putting my notes in my first-ever journal captures them in ‘amber’ to share with my future family. Ugh! After landing there’s another six hours to go tomorrow.Day One: Still reluctant to travel to the backwoods, or fields, of a tiny new country on the Euro/Asia border, I only hope my turbulent nine-hour flight will be the worst part of this annoying ten-day volunteer trip.We’d been perted to Kars, Turkey, about a hundred-sixty bus miles from the end of the world, I mean roads, in Armenia. The two-star hotel overnighter was decent enough. I hope the rest of this ‘volunta...
Two Commuters
This is a story about Frances and Lynn, two commuters, who meet at the same train station, but take the train in different directions. They meet each other standing in line for coffee. They recognize each other because they both arrive at the train station early each morning. They live in different parts of the same town, and become friends. They meet early each morning for coffee before taking their trains.Frances is a music teacher at an elementary school, and has been teaching for a number of years. She takes a 20 minute train ride to a school in a neighboring town. She grew up in the area,...
His Super Power was Obvious
The FBI team had been waiting in the most god-awful ugly unmarked cars in the parking lot of Home Depot in what was any town U.S.A. Agent Xavier Yates couldn’t keep cities like this straight anymore. The same tree-lined streets of sleepy suburbia leading to a plethora of retail waiting to soak up whatever money could be squeezed by the surrounding residents who flocked to these places like moths to a flame. Even the bad guys blurred together.“Hey, YoLo, wake up,” his partner Axe pointed at the entryway. “There goes our guy.”Yates noted the time. Every Saturday at 7:03, right on the dot, seven ...