Blind Introduction_Some WEIRD Cookies_The Missing Ingredient_Mamma Mia Here We Go Again
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Blind Introduction
She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be here. She hated blind dates; they were so uncertain. None of the parties involved knew what they were going to get, they just hoped for the best. Well, she wasn’t a www.onedoor.ccbig believer of hope. Ava Sommers was a practical woman. She never relied on hope, never has, never will. Which was why this date was giving her the jitters. She wasn’t worried about the looks, God knew she had her fair share of beautiful assholes, she was more concerned about the attitude. She could handle that too, sure, but she would rather prefer not to. She had had a very stres...
Some WEIRD Cookies
Finally, my mother took me to the grocery store, but I wasn’t the one who actually wanted to go inside the store. I had some business to attend to in the car. “So you said you needed, what again?” My mom asked me. “Chocolate chips, vanilla powder, and epsom salt.” “Epsom salt?” “Umm, my feet are um, swelling.” I answer, remembering some boring book that talked about the combination of epsom salt and feet. “Ok?” Finally, she walked away and I noticed her mask still hanging on the back of my chair. “MOM! You forgot your mask!” I hollered “Again.” I mumbled, adding my hint of sas to everything ...
The Missing Ingredient
My name is Rick Dick and I am a private investigator. Thirty years ago I took part in solving the biggest case that ever happened in a little town called Sprinkleton. Sprinkleton is a town much like the television show about the town of Mayberry. The people are all family and it is a very friendly town. I retired last year and figured I could make some side money writting the tells of being a private investigator. I have seen some crazy shit, pardon my French. I was just passing through the town of Sprinkleton on my way to New York city. I stopped by the local bakery to get me a couple of glaz...
Mamma Mia Here We Go Again
Mamma Mía Here We Go Again There's a persistent knock at my door. I should characterize it as more of a pounding than a knock. It's 2:19 a.m. and I don't have to guess who would be so rude, so impatient as to disrupt and disturb me at this hour. I'm sure of the identity of the intruder and he must be off his meds. I open the door without asking the person outside to identify himself."Oh good Bigotes you are awake. I hope I'm not interrupting anything? Listen, I need your help to get revenge on the Jamaicans that ripped me off last month. I know where...