Department of Eternal Afterlife Direction, better known as DEAD©_What was Dad thinking?_Accidental H
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Department of Eternal Afterlife Direction, better known as DEAD©
My eyes fluttered open, the sweet sound of birds chirping outside my window. My vision focused, my bedroom around me became clear from the fuzziness of slumber. I smelled coffee, and sleepily rose from my bed, tossing my comforter aside and swinging my legs over, my feet softly kissing the cold hardwood floor. I rubbed my eyes and stretched my arms up over my head, then lazily stood up. I shuffled to the kitchen, when to my surprise I stumbledwww.onedoor.cc upon a hooded figure. A black cloak and hood were shrouding this being, so from where I was standing, I couldn’t tell who it was. I stood in the doorwa...
What was Dad thinking?
My father didn't tell me he died. However he left me a chalupa. Informed after the fact by a New York lawyer, who I trusted had administered his estate correctly, I wish Dad had been more forthcoming. I didn't know what a chalupa was or what to do with one. Was it a recipe he picked up in Mexico for a spicy dish? No, couldn't be; and it wasn't, although in a sense it was, spicy dish that is. To be clear Dad gave me a rustic house slash log cabin remotely located in his adopted, faraway land. I was puzzled. I already had a place to live, which was his. He had inherited it from my mother when sh...
Accidental Hope
Lisa winced as she slowly rose from the floor. She spent the last ten minutes on her hands and knees, scrubbing milk from the carpet. If it had been coffee, or even one of those faux-milk protein drinks, she might have considered leaving it for tomorrow. Milk, however, leaves a telltale odor that’s nearly impossible to eradicate after it sets. Despite her best efforts, she’s sure she’ll smell it when she walks in the house tomorrow.She looked out the window. The late afternoon sun flooded the spacious yard with a pleasant glow. Beautiful though it was, Lisa only saw the lawn, which badly neede...
One Angry Man
As he pulled up to Juliette’s house, he mentally reviewed the techniques his instructor, a tall, spindly woman with inch-thick reading glasses and cotton candy hair who’d probably never struggled with the problem she tried to teach clients how to solve, had suggested. Breathe deeply. Tell yourself a calming message, over and over. Go to your “happy place.” At the time, he’d felt certain that none of these would stand a chance against their opposition. When provoked, it overtook him, cranking his thermostat up to two hundred. The heat billowed, consuming him, flattening his adversary to two dim...