SANDY'S PREDICAMENT

SANDYS PREDICAMENT Sandy had known that she would be in trouble, right from the beginning. All she wanted was to belong to a successful man. Someone for whom Sandy would, hopefully, always, be number one, on his "list". Thats all she wanted. No ring. No children. Just a man who considered her "special". While Reggie would not have been her "first pick", her friends had reminded her "Better than nothing at all." Sometimes, Sandy wondered, though. The way he RACED through everything. Like he could not get finished, fast enough. Sure, he had a decent size, between his legs, but she wished he would let her enjoy it, more. Sandy would have offered to TRADE, with a friend, except that her friends guys were about the same. The closest that Sandy had come, to a french kiss, at any time, in the recent past, was the time when her brother wanted a kiss. He had wanted to know how women WANTED to be kissed and thought that his sister, having kissed a few men, might have some advice. Sandy had offered him a deal. If he agreed to embrace her, carress her, and give her a LONG, DEEP, French, kiss, she would let him know what kind of kisser he was. While both siblings had TRIED their best, Sandy remembered that her brother told her "Keep the money. Its just not there." Sandy lay beside him, smiling, and saying "You are right. Nice try, anyway." Compared with Reggies "kisses", however, he brother was "Ruldolf Valentino". Sandy would have tried her father, but her mother had the man arrested. Why? When he needed a woman, and mother was not around, the man had "romanced" a couple of Sandy's friends. Never any pregnancies, but, when Sandy saw her friends "getting off", with her dad, she wished it could be her. It was not until mother had the man arrested, and sent to prison, that she was informed of the revision part, of the mans inheritance. The revision had stated that, not only did the man have to marry, and produce a family, in order to make his spouse eligible for payment, but the couple had to "make a go", of trying for happiness. It was not until she had him convicted, of Statutory Rape, that she found out that, if he was in jail, his spouse would be required to raise his family, to adulthood, alone. The woman had, so, planned to take the $20 million, that dad had coming, and set herself up, for life, only to find that she was "trapped". If she wanted the family money, she had to prove she was family. This is why she "borrowed" $1 million, got her husband out of prison, and onto probation, and the two worked to raise their young. While her siblings were having moderate "success", with relationships, Sandy just could not find what she sought. (For the recoord, Sandy, quickly, learned that nude models, in magazines, were not the same as a real man, between her legs.) Still, Sandy knew why she checked me out, so thoroughly, before getting involved. It was at a party, and Sanndy was standing by, quietly, as we watched Reggie present his to various women. When I saw Sandy's expression, I whispered, to her "You are far more beautiful than they are." When she smiled, I stayed by her side. When Reggie stuffed himself into a woman, and began, I noticed how Sandy snuggled up, to me. I put an arm around her, carressed her, and whispered "You are beautiful." It was not until she turned her head, slowly, wet her lips, and was about to kiss me when she realized that a kiss was not all that she wanted. Instead, she whispered "Lets find someplace, private". Sandy found an excellent place, then found herself regretting having made me the offer. This because, while she had hoped for a french kiss, she never counted on depth, time, carressing, and so on. Personally, I had hoped she would allow my tongue to move into her mouth. The time, when Sandy KNEW she had to call an end was when she not only found herself emjoying my necking, but when she felt her breasts, and her womanhood, all begging her to let me in. When she whispered "Baby.", I came back up, kissed her, then she thanked me, while suggesting "We should get back." Back in the party, and while trying to look nonchallant, Sandy's friend softly told her "I'm glad someone, at this party, got laid. I sure aint." When Sandy looked at her friend, her friend took out a make-up mirror, and Sandy saw her look. A few, DEEP, kisses, and some necking, and she was smiling like she had just had a full week, of sex. Sandy did not know why, but, when she heard Reggie profaning the women, for an okay (sex), Sandy did not know why but she looked at me. When her friend mentioned "You should stop smiling at him, unless you want to get LAID." Sandy did not know why, but just looking at me made her feel better. Later, when the host said that Reggie was one of three men, who were "out, for the night", Sandy found herself snuggling up to me, whispering "Walk me home." With some men, Sandy was fine, just walking near the men. For some reason, she found herself snuggling up to me. Inside her place, Sandy had hoped for just a goodnight kiss. What she got was kissing, necking, carressing, and having me feast, on her womanhood, all while she tried, desperately, NOT to fall in love. She knew she was blushing, as my attention brought her to three, powerful, climaxes. Come morning, Sandy was delighting in the fact of how WELL the night had gone. She had even kept to her promise. When she had realized that my body was on "fire", for her, Sandy had taken her time, and given me five, fantastic, blows. Now, she was snuggled, to my side, as I awakened. After she got me up, and out the door, she e-mailled a hacker friend, saying "Mayday! I THINK I have found a man. I NEED confirmation. I NEED to know if I am right." While she awaited a reply, Sandy visited her mother, whose first words, when she saw her daughter, were "My God. Tell me this new man is going to stay around." Sandy would, only, say "We will see." When Sandy went to one of the homes, bathroom, mirrors, hoping to see something different, all she saw was that "I am in LOVE" face. When Sandy returned to her place, she found the very information, which she HOPED was NOT true. While she read my stats, she just hoped the report was correct. That I was NOT a "relationship" kind of guy. Still, what could it hurt, to have a man, of her OWN. Especially with as many women as Reggie had. Now that Sandy had the information, that she wanted, her plan would move forward. She would give me all that I wanted, for as long as I stayed around. Once I got tired of her, she would "move on". What the report did NOT tell her was that I was both supportive, and tender. The report did not mention that, when Sandy was down, I did my best, to ease her pain. As for what was suposed to be, maybe, monthly, sex, this turned into twice weekly, in no time. As for the part, about our love being only "behind closed doors", it took Sandy all of three weeks, to break this part, of the deal. Sandy no-longer cared what people thought. She was just happy that, instead of having a man, who GRABBED, inside her top, that I whispered, in her ear, "I want a taste." While Reggie had the habit of, vulgarly, rubbing his, against hers, when he wanted, she came to love it when I whispered "I want you, my love.", in her ear. What thrilled her was how, un-like Reggie, who could, never, finish FAST enough, that, at times, I took all night. We DID confine the "I love you's" to inside her place. When her mother asked Sandy just kept telling the woman "We are friends. Thats all." When her mother would say "Just like your father is my friend." Sandy just rolled her eyes. While I wil be the first to admit that Sandy is an incredibly passionate, and LOVING, woman, in public we confined ourselves to "friendship kisses". This because, even after Reggie dissolved, from her life, Sandy KNEW what she wanted, and it was NOT me. While she would agree that I was good, in bed, she did, at times, remind even me "I need a Conan the Barbarian. A man, who is willing to FIGHT, or even KILL, for me." (Even her own mother doubted that such a man existed. Still, Sandy was not about to give up trying.) Not at our first, second, or even third, anniversaries. Eventually, Sandy came to enjoy accompanying me, to various functions. Functions at which she learned more about the deficit, borders, taxation, annd many, other, topics. The one thing Sandy never expected was when the wives, of politicans, began inviting Sandy to luncheon. For a woman, accustomed to value meals, and booze, the switch, to salad bars, buffets, and champaign, was an un-expected change. Of course, Sandy had been undergoing more change. While Sandy enjoyed my nursing, no one told her that nursing causes womens breasts to increase capacity. Result, soon after Sandy began providing, for me, she had to replace her bra's. While she insisted that she did not regret it, she DID decline my offer to repay her, part of the cost, of the new bra's. For Sandy, however, the most annoying part had been when she returned to her parents house, only to find that her mothers dresses were gone from her closet. Mother had laughed, openly, when Sandy held up a mini-skirt, saying "There is NO WAY that I am wearing that, in public." When her mother was able to stop smirking, long enough, she reminded Sandy "Girl, YOU chose those dresses so that you would NOT look like an old maid." Still, Sandy was FIRM. She was not about to wear dresses, which showed off her body parts. This is how mother KNEW we were serious. When mother took Sandy dress-shopping, the woman noticed how her daughter ignored the "trendy" stuff, and went "traditional." Full skirts, and tops. By the time Sandy was finished, and gave me a preview, I told her "I better get a gun permit." When she asked "Why?" I told her "A woman, as beautiful, as you. The competition will be fierce." While Sandy worked the women/wives, I had the duty, of working the men. Men who, even with five, new, states, being added, to the nation, were still un-certain of how far my plan would go. The main thing, that I told the men to remember, was that the cost, of state-hood, would be billions LESS than that Berlin Wall. A wall, which even the best minds, in the finest universities, published findings, stating that the first $10 billion would be nothing more than a "down-payment". Converting the Soviet Ruble to the American dollar, and adjusting for value, between the 1950's, and the present day, the best that economists could come up with was that the Soviets initial investment was near $9.5 billion. Add in wear, tear, damage, and upkeep, as well as endless expansions (Which were, never, completed), and the best that the professors could come up with was that the Wall would cost $25 billion, per year. When the professors asked Washington D.C. what the capital planned to do, about the Gulf of Mexico (the EAST side of the wall), and the Pacific Ocean (the WEST side of the wall), and Washington D.C.'s "best guess" was: With an additional, "small", investment, both waterways will be kept clear, of illegal traffic. When the professors predicted the necessary hardware, and personnel, to re-inforce the wall, the $25 billion, per year, "exploded", to $300 billion. This, for assigning aircraft carriers, battleships, drones, and so on just to police the border. This is why state-hood, costing only a "few" million, per year, seemed a much wiser investment. While I would be most greatful, when the Papacy became involved, in the project, what continued to concern Sandy was how often I stood, on the front lines, facing tanks, and machine guns, while meeting with leaders, of various factions. Mother got used to hearing Sandy say "If he does that, one, more, time, I will kill him, myself." Still, Sandys mother knew she supported me. No matter how many tanks I stood before, Sandy would support me. I would have supported Sandy's desires, as well, except that Sandy had yet to decide what she wanted to do, in life. (Beyond taking care of me.) It would seem that, as the nation continued to evolve, Sandy did not have much time, to THINK about her choices. She had become the "go to girl", when people wanted my support. Sandy's biggest shame came when she had to continue calling for cars, to drive her to, and from, gatherings. While the party did not complain, about this, Sandy began wondering if a drivers license might not be such a bad idea. The only reason why Sandy had no license, presently, was because of a dispute, over a ticket. While Sandy had been "nailed", for both booze, and drugs, she had gone to court, saying "If you can PROVE that I was not sober..." When the judge told Sandy that an officer entered a report, stating that Sandy was "Under the Influence", Sandy had asked "Show me the proof. Show me the test results!" When Sandy would not plead guilty, the court replaced the normal fine with an order. Sandy was to take a drug resistence course, AND Drivers Education, all over again, before her license could be re-instated. The day of the trial, Sandy had walked away from her license, cursing the judge. Since that day, Sandy received regular, quarterly, reminders, that she could qualify, to drive, once she passed the courses. Until she met me, Sandy could not have cared, less. Now, she was asking her mothers advice. All mother would say was "What is most important, to YOU. Your man, or your pride?" This would be a tough decision, for a woman as proud, and determined, as my Sandy. How much was our love worth?

THE CURSE

THE CURSE Despite the best efforts, of the combined forces of anti-bullying projects, as well as "No Child Left Behind", and "Race to the Top", the simple fact was that schools just did not WANT to address the topic, of student-on-student violence. Not even when violence was directed against students, whose only desire was to reach graduation. What the schools most violent students just could not accept was that some students wanted nothing more than an education. That, and to be left in Peace. (Something that the bullies just could NOT allow). In more recent years, schools had been increasing efforts, NOT to restrain bullies, but to try to draw attention AWAY from bullies actions. Several school districts had, successfully, drawnn attention away from student suicides, by calling two, of three, suicides, per year "isolated incidents". The REAL problem began the year, when a gang, of no less that ten bullies began openly terrorizing peaceful students, to the point where atleast six students committed suicide, within a single school year. When the parents, of peaceful students, begann filing applications, for transfer, school districts openly rejected the "Reason for Transfer: BULLYING." School districts told parents that this reason was rejected, since it would place negative attention, on schools. One, school district even went to court, to forbid parents from using bullying as a "Reason for Transfer". As for the problem, itself, schools found it much easier to cover the fact that two, or three, students, per year, committed suicide. The prooblem, which one school had, was when a gang, of bullies, drove no less than SIX students, to take own lives, in just one semester. Two, or three, per YEAR, the school could cover up, but SIX, in one semester? While the school district, and law enforcement, REFUSED to prosecute the bullies, rumor held that, after the final victim, of the semester, was buriied, that the bullies toasted their success. This, with beer, and snacks. Cause of the celebration: The only students, remaining in school, were those students who were willing to KILL, for what they wanted. Only the "Conan the Barbarian" types would remain in the school. Since the courts REFUSED to prosecute the bullies, and police would NOT secure arrest warrants, the bullies felt that their goal had been achieved, and that their future had been secured. Once the bullies left high school, and entered into employment, they took their terrorist skills, and used these, to secure promotions. If two people were up, for a promotion, and one was a school bully, the bully would take high school skills, and, simply BEAT their opponent, half to death, or until the more educated person withdrew from the promotions list. Of course, the bullies did not restrict violence to. The bullies, also, extended their bloody rampages into their personal lives. When bullies found potential mates, with gentlemen, the bullies, simply beat the gentlemen half to death, then the women, GLADLY, went with the bullies. This, because many women truly DO want "Conan the Barbarian". Not, "Love, Honor, and Cherish". When the bullies started their own families, the main thing, that these brutes taught their young was "If you want it, TAKE it!" They tauught their children how to beat other children half to death, over possession of toys, lunch money, and so on. The more violent the young became, the prouder that parents were. What the bullies never counted upon was how their actions would affect lives, in general. In fact, the very first victim, of the "curse" was a bully, who wanted a promotion, within a company. The problem was that a peace-loving worker was better educated, and more qualified. While co-workers did not place much stock into the words, when the bully said "I WILL handle him", no one was prepared for what was to come. As far as the police, and the media, could discover, the bully had dragged their victim into a secret area, then beat them half to death, all while saying "That promotion is MINE!" When the bloody victim would not give in, the bully took a length, of heavy chain, wrapped it around the victims neck, then rammed the victim out of a fourth floor office window. Watching until the body ceased all convulsions, the bully then left the scene, and went to a bar. The body, dangling in mid-air, would be found, the following morning, by the earliest workers. The reason why the bully became the prime suspect was because the man did not report in, for work. For nearly a month, police sought the bully, without success. Then something, beyond odd, happened. A month, after the bully murdered his victim, the bully was found, not just dead, but dead, and the body found in the administrative offices, of the high school, where the bully had terrorized other students. The reason why an investigative reporter got involved, in the case, was because the coroner had to use dental records to identify the body. The bullies body was found, so severely beaten, that most types, of identification, were impossible. It was not until the reporter dug into the bullies past, that a motive, for the beating/murder was found. During his high school years, the bully had imposed the same kinds, of beatings, on anyone whom the bully felt did not "measure up". Rumor has it that, when the other bullies learned of the death, they TOASTED the bully, calling him a success. It would not be until six months later, and afterr the media lost interest, in the deaths, that another incident would revive the topic. According to media sources, it woulld seem that, after a peaceful childs parents bought them a new bicycle, that the child, of a bully, having been taught to FIGHT, and even to KILL, for what they wanted, had seen the child, with the bicycle, and beaten the child half to death, before taking their prize. While the young bully BOASTED, to friends, about having taken the bike, from the "whimp", local police would inform the victims parents "There is nothing to do, about this. We cannot arrest children, for "playing rough"." Even after the peaceful child died, of the beating, inside the hospital, both the school board, and the police, did their best to cover the situation. No one wanted the publicity, of arresting an "ambitious chiild". It was not until two weeks after the childs death, and the bullies sudden disappearance, that the bullies parents demanded that the dead childs parents demanded that their childs victims parents be investigated, either for kiidnapping, or, possibly, murder. While the police investigated the family, the reporter went after background, on the child, who had stolen the victims property. While police, and the school board, would have preferred that the media assign the reporter to another story, the reporter used various sources, and created a sound, fact-filled, reason, for the theft, death, and disappearance. Once the young persons violent ways were linked to their parents violent ways, the reporter suggested "I wonder if this bullies body will be found, like the last one?" Even as the media was publishing this article, the police received a report, of domestic abuse. From what the police could find out, it seems that, when a wife was just "not in the mood", her "Conan the Barbarian" husband decided that he was going to TAKE what he wanted. It would seem that neighbors called in the police, when thew "man" was viewed, punching his wife about. According to the police report, it seemms that her "husband" gave her a black eye, broken nose, split lip, sprained arm, and leg, and some fractured ribs. It seems that the wife gave the "man" what he wanted, just to stop the pain. What "Conan" had not counted upon was the new, abuse, laws, which had been passed in the 80's, and 90's. Laws which no-longer asked victims if they wanted jail time, for abusers. If medics diagnosed severe injuries, the abuser was going to jail, period. Two days, and a $100 fine, later, the "man" left the police station, telling his friends "I am going to make that (woman) pay!". His friends would tell both the police, and the media, that the last time they saw the "man", he was headed in the general direction, of his home. It was when the young bullies body was found, covered with the same types, of marks, which the bullies had inflicted, on their victims, that the police began suspecting a vigilante. Problem was, all past, and present, victims had solid alibi's. None, even knew of the deaths, until reading the newspaper. Two days later, the abusive husbands body would be found, again on school property. This is when the reporter did the "in-depth" digging, which the school board did NOT want done. With a copy, of the "Freedom of Information Act", in hand, the reporter scoured the records, going back to when the abusive childrens parents were in school. While the reporter found the names, of the gang members, the problem became that of "WHO" was killing the bullies? When the reporter checked the names, of the students, who had been terrorized, by the bullies, the problem was that almost all had LEFT the city, if not the state, trying to leave the abuse behind. The only six, who remained in town were those whom the church verified were in the local cemetary. The funeral home had done its best, with each corpse, and church record showed that each body was buried. Even the reporter had to agree that the graves were not disturbed. In fact, were it not for the head-stones, the reporter would not have known that a grave was present. When the reporter looked to more recent incidents, for a perpetrator, the reporter came up, empty, as well. Everyone had an alibi. Both the surviving victims, and those, who were within the hospital. This left the community with a question, which no one wanted to consider. If every person, in, and around, town, was accounted for, then WHO was taking revenge? WHO was killing the terrorist bullies? The police were hoping for a friend, or relative. Maybe even a contract killer. Someone they could place behind bars. This is why, when the reporter received a U.S. Mail message, asking "If you want to know the truth, meet me at the high school, 9 p.m. I will lead you to the truth." Since the reporter was no fool, before handling the message, or the body, of the envelope, he had it dusted, for prints, by the newspapers crime department. When he took it to his editor, and asked "What do you think? Hoax? Thrill-Seeker?" The editor would only say "If it is fake, then why not ask for payment? Why not offer information, for a cash payment? Why not say "I will expose the truth, for $100,000?" When the reporter would ask "Do you think it is a victim, whom the police dont know about?" The editor would say "Doesn't sound like a victim, to me. Want to meet you, in a public place. A place, where most of the town knows everyone. It just doesn't make sense." When the reporter would ask "How do you want to write it up? Fake, forgery, crank?" The editor would say "No. Just as a precaution. Draw $5,000 from the cashier. Just in case money is the motive. Get what you can, as cheaply as you can." After signing for the cash, the reporter would visit the high school, and was astonished by the nightmare images, which the old building brought forth, from his memories. Images, of his own, teen, years, and how he had done everything, possible, to "vanish" from the sight of the bullies. Still, the images were vivid. Images, of muscular, tall, students, slamming students, half their size, into lockers, while shouting, in the students face "You are a homo because I SAID you are! We need REAL men, in this school, not HOMO's!" The reporter, also, remembered being beaten, numerous times, when the bullies growled "Admit being a homo, right NOW!" No matter which way the student tried to escape, the mob, of bullies, punched, kicked, and slammed, the student. When his parents tried to report the violence, and school officials would not even HEAR the complaint, saying "If we dont SEE it then it did not happen." All that parents could do was allow students to leave school, at minimum age. The reporter, like so many other students, did not cease his education, upon leaving school. He earned his journalism certificate from adult education. Funny thing was, it was not the heckling, or screeching, by any girls, whom gentlemen tried to ask out, which made him laugh. It was that garbage, in the school cafeteria. The so-called school lunch program. Platters, which were smaller than Swanson, or Banquet t.v. dinners, and whose "quality" was about that of the dumpsters, behind the school. That was one of the great things, about independent study. With quality meals, from the famiily kitchen, the reporter had been able to focus on his studies, and graduate, from adult education, at the top, of the journaliism class. Now, the man stood, looking at one of the very buildings, which he hated, more than anything. Rounding the property, the reporter was amazed to find no motor vehicles, except for his own. If someone wanted to meet him, he would have thought that they would have brought a car along. It was not until the reporter saw a figure, standing by a utility shed, that the reporter approached the figure, and was about to ask when he saw his old friend. When the reporter asked "Seth, what are you doing here?" The man would say "I am not Seth. I am Steven. Seth is my nephew." When the reporter would say "Amazing." The man would say "I know. It runs in the family." When the reporter would ask "You weere the one..." Steven would say "Yes, I sent you the message." When the reporter would ask "Why here? Why not in a cafe, or restaurant?" Steven would say "Last time I checked, your restauratnts, including those fast food places, do not serve spirits." When the reporter would say "If you want a drink..." Steven would say "I dont mean "spirits, as in booze. I mean..." The reporter would say "Wait a minute. Dont go telling me that you are a ghost." Steven would rebuke this, saying "We, in the after-life, are most annoyed that the living call us "ghosts". Sounds as cheap as calling an employed woman a "whore"." When the reporter would say "Well, excuse me. I had no idea that the after-life had so many rules." Steven would say "Cut the sarcasm. I have asked you here, for a reason." When the reporter would ask "What would that be? To show me some ghost magic?" Steven sent a chill through the reporter, which felt below sub-zero, as Steven would say "If you must use a title. The title is SPIRIT! Other wise, just call me Steven." When the reporter would say "Fine, Steven. WHY are we meeting on the grounds of a local high school? WHY here?" Steven would say "We are standing just a few feet from where I am buried." When the reporter would ask "Since WHEN are bodies allowed to be buried, on shool grounds?" Steven would say "I never said it was ALLOWED. I said I am buried, here." When the reporter would ask "When, Where, etc.." Steven would say "To the best of my recall, I was one of the first victims, whom the bullies murdered, over the years." When the reporter would ask "Why did the bullies kill you?" Steven would say "Because I would not let one of their girlfriends win a spelling bee." When the reporter would ask "What happened?"" Steven would say "Eight of them jumped me, at once. Didn't stop beating on me, even after I was un-conscious." When the reporter would ask "HOW can you know what they did, AFTER you were un-conscious?" Steven would say "After my heart stopped, it was like I was standing among them, as they argued over how to dispose of my body." When the reporter would ask "WHERE is your body buried?" Steven would say "Under that utility shed. That is why the floor is concrete, not dirt. It took them most of the night, but they buried my body eight feet down." When the reporter would ask "Didn't your family report you missing?" Steven would say "The bullies had a plan, for this. They threatened to KILL a member, of the schools writers club, if the student did not copy my hand-writing, and send a note, stating that I had run away." When the reporter would ask "Even IF this story is true, WHAT do you get out of it? How much money?" Steven would ask "What good is money, to a spirit?" When the reporter would ask "What is your MOTIVATION, then?" Steven would say "Too many killings, over the years. Bullies have terrorized schools, for too long. I guess that I am hoping that, even if only ONE murder is solved, the bullies will reconsider their violent ways. They might even stop terrorizing people, out of fear of exposure." The reporter would say "THAT IS a BIG ask, especially when schools dont WANT to know, about student violence." Steven would suggest "Maybe, if we had new boards. People, who look AT, not AWAY FROM, violence." When the reporter would ask "Would you happen to know anything about the recent deaths, of some bullies?" Steven would say "I KNEW that was the way to draw media attention. Force the subject into the daylight." The reporter was about to mention "But, murder is a felony, you could go to jail...", then he remembered that he was talking to a spirit. A prison sentence is use-LESS, on a persoon who is, already, dead. Steven then told the reporter where to find information, both on the bullies, who had murdered him, so many years ago, and the bullies, since that time. After that, man, and spirit, said farewell. Over the next few days, the reporter tracked those, who had murdered Steven. Of those, who remained alive, all were vegetating, in nursing homes. There was no way to place these people on trial. No prison would take them, even IF convicted. There was no question. Stevens murderers had escaped justice, and lived full lives. Everything which they had DENIED Steven. While the next generration was well-established, in careers, the reporter would provide enough information, to each, to bring an end to their tyranny. As for their own children, once the reporter reminded the older generation, that they COULD be prosecuted IF information became known, it seems that the bullies decided to scale back activities. Instead of terrorizing their friends, the bullies, now, suggested that their children cooperate, and SHARE. When their spouses asked "WHY?" the bullies would have to say "A reporter has found enough information, to send both me, and the kids, to prison, for life." When atleast one spouse would say "The answer is simple. KILL him before he destroys us!" The bully would say "Dont even suggest such things. If that is taken as a threat, YOU can go to jail, as well." When the woman would say "And, here, I THOUGHT that I had married a REAL man. Not some whimp, who is afraid of his own shadow." In the end, atleast two spouses were arrested when a patrol car spotted them trying to light a rag, which was stuffed into the reporters gas tank. The courts would on enough charges to equal three felonies The spouses were going to prison, for life. In a final, impromptu, visit, Stevens spirit would visit the reporter, saying "It seems justice is done, at last. The curse, which my family invoked, when they suspected that I had been murdered, is, now, lifted." When the reporter would ask "What now?" Steven would say "Do not worry. There are plenty of additional bullies, even in America. The worst is not over, yet. Locally, maybe. Nationally, it continues." When the reporter would ask "Do you think that any other victims families have invoked curses?" Steven would say "Most assuredly. All we can do is wait, for the deaths to continue. For now, my friend, farewell."

CHARITY VERSUS PANHANDLING

CHARITY VERSUS PANHANDLING For a LONG while, this was one thing, which I had much trouble with. Turning down people, who asked only for small amounts of money. This, while these same people spent their days on street corners, either just sitting around, or holding up signs, begging for charity. Since I was raised in a family, where kindness was rewarded, I will admit that, for quite some time, I felt guilty, over the fact that these other people had neither food, nor shelter. That is, until certain events happened. For one thing, the people, in our neighboring building (where the rent was only $300.00 per month), could be, and were, spotted, first by my neighbor, then by myself, on several paydays. My neighbor and I watched as the same people, who brought in cases of beer, and name brand snacks, from a convenience store, on payday, were, later, pursued, by management, over past due rent. Personally, I did not want it to be true, until, during one, weekend, payday, my neighbor and myself, sat on his porch, and watched a neighbor bring in an entire cart load, from the convenience store. (The person, actually, BOASTED, of having spent hundreds of dollars, at the store, on the cart load.) When my neighbor asked the person "You have THAT MUCH left over, after your rent is paid?" All the person had said was "Dont worry about my rent." As to HOW such a person kept their unit, without paying much rent, neither myself, nor my friend could understand. What my friend and I had become "experts" at was knowing which new renters, in our own building, would be the shortest timers. Our original landlord was well-known, across the city, as a man, who was willing to give people the "one, final, chance", to prove they COULD pay rent. In fact, it is estimated that the man signed over 200 leases, only to have each broken, within 60 days. The process was simple: Local, social, services, paid the landlord the tenants deposit, and first months rent, then left the rest to the tenant. When the tenant did not pay, the landlord used the deposit money, and evicted the tenant. Word, around town, was that "Anyone, who could not make it, here, was headed either for homeless shelters, or life, on the street." My friend and I watched dozens of these people move, IN, then right back out. I think that what soured me, the most, were the people who just did not care. The people were the kind who, while they did not care about going without electricity, come payday, they wanted to know which stores sold beer, the earliest in the day. While, during the warmer months, some of these people sat, on street corners, on payday, asking passers by "Why do you bother breaking your neck, to pay rent? Your landlord couldn't care less. Here, have a drink." This, from people, whose only "belongings" were the clothes on their backs, and whose "roof" was any shelter, where they could sleep, at night. My neighbor, and I, were as crafty, with dealing with these people, as my neighbors, at a previous, high rise, were. The seniors, in the building, had a well-thought-out answer, to the homeless panhandlers. Since anyone, with any BRAINS, had all of their benefits, secured by "plastic", when the panhandlers came, asking for money, we told them the truth. We did not have a penny on us. The total truth, since we, never, carried cash. There was, however, some suspicion, over the reason why a homeless woman was giving $10 blows, in front of a store. While some said that the woman was too "fried" from drugs, and booze, to understand her actions, there were those who held a different view. A friend of mine informed me of what the media said, after the womans arrest. It was verified that she had been ejected, from almost every shelter, in town. This, for having sex, with any shelter man, who would hand over any money that he had. Since the woman was barred from shelter, the media hinted that she performed, in public, in order to BE arrested. While she did earn $50, before the police arrived, the woman put up no defense, and was sentenced to prison. Ofcourse, it was not just people, OUTSIDE the building, who did such things. When her rent was due, one Negress actually walked the halls, of our building, offering sex, for hire. Another woman, a white woman, who drank, and smoked, her money, away, spent the last part, of each month, walking the halls, begging for anything tenants would offer. I followed my friends line of reasoning, though. Like he said, the reason why WE had food, and shelter, is because we paid bills, FIRST, then used any left over cash, for "other things". (In fact, the very same philosophy my parents had furnished us kids with) Granted, our lives were not the most exciting, but we DID have food, shelter, and power. Yes, thats right. There were some tenants who, whenever they could get away with it, they told the power company where to SHOVE its payment demands, and, instead, plugged extension cords into the buildings electric outlets. For one tenant, this worked, but only until a new owner DID, in fact, call in an electric engineer, to review any problem, with the units electrical panel. When the engineer found out that the power was cut, at the METER, NOT due to faulty installation, the extension cords were removed, and the tenant packed up, as well. This is why I stopped feeling bad, about not giving money away. I figured, as my friend did: If we can make it, without charity, then so can anyone else. When a review worker, asked me WHY I visited a convenience store, on payday, I told them "Money orders, to pay rent with." When asked if I, ever, panhandled, or asked for money, I asked the worker to specify the question. When asked "Do you, ever, BEG people, for money?" I gave an honest "No way!" I KNOW why the worker asked if people gave me money. It was because another client, a few seats down, said that people GAVE him money. That was all the answer that he would give the worker. Never a flat "No, I never!" This is why, when the worker asked me "Do people ever give you money?" I told them "Yes." When asked if I thanked the people, I said "Of course.. It would be rude not to." I think I was asked, three, more, times, about panhandling. The reason, however, soon became clear. It would seem that one panhandler was taking the phrase "aggressive", to a whole, new, level. Whether people felt sorry, for the man, and gave him money, or told him to "Get Lost!", it seems that the man attacked the people, stole wallets, then left victims to call police. Now, healthcare workers were reminding clients that panhandling was dangerous. Using the example of the so-called "subway vigilante" (a white man, who had shot five, Negro youths, while the Negroes were in the process of robbing him, on a subway), workers reminded clients that not all victims are defenseless. As for me, I just accepted information, and kept to myself. If I could not live on what I had, then I was in trouble.

THE DISPUTE OF 2020

THE DISPUTE OF 2020 It was when Mr Trump learned that only his "hard core" supporters endorsed the new Berlin Wall, that the real estate developer "created" a "new angle". An angle, which would take root during the second shutdown, of 2019. Ofcourse, it was well-known, in the business world, that Mr. Trump was both ambitious, and determined, when it came to getting his way. What successful businessman developes such a fortune, without being determined, and set, FIRM, in ones idea's. It would not be until day 50, of the second shutdown, that the polls, from all sides, showed Mr. Trump "losing ground", to the Democratic Party. Since Mr. Trump had come from a family, dedicated to caring for its members, he had no concept of the impact, of his actions, upon Americans, whom the man did not even know existed. Mr. Trump, only knew that the best way to make a good deal, was to stand, FIRM. Just as he had done, in his business life. By standing FIRM, in his resolve, the man had purchased properties, for a fraction of real value. Such was what came to be known as the ART, of the DEAL. What Mr. Trump had, never, taken the time to consider, before entering Decision 2016, was how DIFFERENT running a nation is, from running a real estate empire. In the business world, the idea, of "waiting out the competition", had made more than one land owner rich. The problem the man had was the fact that, in Washington D.C., occupying the Oval Office is NOT like being the chairman of a corporate board. There is no "JUMP, when I say JUMP". No, the Oval Office is more of a supervisory role. It is more about meeting foreign officials, and offering compromises, when Congress becomes "grid-locked". It is more like a parent, managing disputes, between children, while managing household budgets. This, in fact, was the inspiration, for finding a way out of the showdown, between the White House, and Congress. Without even bothering to check with Congressional leaders, "Team: Trump" began working on a way to bring some sort of "small victory", to the White House. The idea was to be that, in return for closing the detention camps, Congress would agree to fund the government, and let Mr. Trump take credit, for proposing that foreign nation-states be allowed to apply for state-hood. There was just one, "tiny" problem. An American citizen had, already, contacted Congress, with this same idea. An idea which, almost, predated the first government shutdown. While Mr. Trump DEMANDED authorship rights, to the plan, the problem was that the original plan had been submitted to both Democrats, and moderate Republicans. People, who had been discussing HOW to carry the plan out, for months, before the White House announcement. It would seem that when "too many" Republicans admitted prior knowledge, of the plan, Mr. Trump would order the government shut down "until further notice". (He was not about to let anyone steal his "thunder") As the shut down DRAGGED into month number two, and the media tried to portray government workers as "victims", the public responded in a most un-expected way. While government workers expected to be given "preference" at places, such as food pantries, the very people, whom the workers had treated like garbage, in the workers offices, refused to allow preference to be given. If government workers wanted the front of the line, they would have to arrive, EARLY. When workers TRIED to portray themselves as "victims", as cars, and homes, faced foreclosure, due to the shut down, the public was not buying it. Government workers would find themselves facing the same animousity, from the public, that the workers had been "dishing out", for years. Just as workers had taken pride, in insulting clients, by saying "There are plenty of jobs, out there. Come back, and see me AFTER you have applied for atleast six of these. Not before." Now, the workers were LEARNING how the REAL victims felt, as workers were turned away, from loans, and threatened with foreclosure. As the media reported, however, the government shut down could last, for YEARS, and not touch the multi-billionairre, in the White House. Perhaps the only "good news", to come out of the second shut down, was that, with the government shut down, and contractors NOT being paid, construction equipment sat, idle, since even construction workers have bills to pay. Not with "promises", but with CASH. The time, when the public KNEW that government workers were coming to understand how the PUBLIC felt, was when federal workers unions pulled resources, and held a public auction. An auction which, workers HOPED, would generate enough income to last until government re-opened. There was cheering, galore, when auction buyers paid just pennies, on the dollar, for property, valued in the tens of thousands, or hundreds of thousands, of dollars. One government, worker just slumped her shoulders, as she left the auction, having auctioned $10,000 worth of jewelry, for just $10.00. It would take Congress almost three months, to line enough votes for an override. When the call did come, Mr. Trump, of course, threw another fit. The policy of "waiting out the opposition" did not work, in the government. Of those government workers, who had sought "temporary" jobs, the end, of the shut down was of no comfort. This, when the White House was found to no longer hold the trust, of the American people. In fact, of those, lucky enough to find work, families agreed. Until either Decision 2020, or 2024 meant that Mr. Trump was leaving office, people were holding second jobs, as a precaution. At the border, even when workers were offered double normal wages, the main question, which the union had was "What happens the next time the government shuts down? Our workers have families to FEED." What good was offering double pay, when it could be shut down, at any moment? The stalemate would last until the 2020 primary. I would be when Mr. Trump had to face SEVERAL challengers, all of whom promised to do more to work WITH Congress, and to use shutdowns only as a very LAST resort. If only Mr Trump had humbled himself, to voters, he might have stood a chance at a second term. Since he stood, FIRM, saying "I will continue to do what MUST be done." His name would not appear, on the Republican ballot, for president, in 2020. Mr. Trump would be left to return to his real estate empire (while crying foul! that his wall had been cancelled.) As for government workers, most would be happy, just to return to work. Still, many had HEARD the voice of the public. Federal, and state, agencies would begin altering policies, once their OWN got a taste of how victims felt. How long would this new mind-set last? Who can say? Maybe only as long as the next Democrat remains in office?

THE CONVENIENCE STORE CONTROVERSY

THE CONVENIENCE STORE CONTROVERSY From the very start, Heather explained the reason why LeMar was, always, so short of cash. A reason, which even **I** could understand, even if it did make very little sense. the reason, for the controversy, which lead to the investigation. Many times, my neighbor and I had watched, from his porch as, each payday, too many people took LINK benefits out, to name brand stores, and convenience stores, buying cases of booze, as well as name brand snacks. Heather told me that she watched, from her porch, as well. The problem, which the feds were investigating, was the question of HOW people, receiving LINK benefits, of $150.00 per month, could be LINK "bankrupt", after just one week. When Heather wondered why the feds began calling LINK clients in, I suggested "Maybe, it is to find out about purchasing choices." Heather would say that "In that case, my boyfriend is in serious trouble." Serious trouble, indeed. From what Heather, myself, and my friend, learned, it would seem that the feds were confused. With the exception of a microscopic few, just about everyone, on LINK, had gone through budgetting classes. (Of course, I had taken nearly ten YEARS, worth of English classes, yet I can not tell the difference between a past, present, and future, participal.) No, the people, who were at the heart of the investigation, were those, whose LINK cards showed extensive purchases, made the first week of each month. Now, while most of the convenience stores used the motto of "No one is required to shop here", one store had been cagey, indeed. In order to draw in more low-income business, one convenience store operator had customers agree to sign credit lists. (Like the old, coal mining towns) The operator kept a list of all credit purchases, then had the person pay up, the next month. Even more cagey was the fact that the store allowed people to rack up debts, which would take months to cover. That is, until the federal review came to town. When the store owner claimed "No one is forced to shop here. They come, and I serve them." The feds used a court order to shut the place, within 72 hours. The rest were not so easy to shut. After all, NO one is REQUIRED to shop, anywhere. While convenience store regulars were put back into budgetting classes, my friend, Heather, and myself, wondered if it would make any difference. After all, Heather said that her boyfriend shopped at the convenience store, for the "prestege". While the feds were reviewing her boyfriend, Heather and I took some of his receipts, which Heather had saved, and visited one of OUR favorite, discount, grocery, stores. While we found the name brand version, in a container 2.5 times the size of that, at the convenience store, for the same price. When we looked at the generic, we found real savings. Normally, the man spent $125-150, per trip, to the convenience store. This for, at most, two bags of groceries. At the discount store, Heather and I verified that we could fill 1.5 shopping CARTS, with the same amount of money. While Heather had told me that she would prefer to shop less often, and stock more, her mistake was in believing that her man had been honest, in saying that he would not abuse his access to her benefits, or her apartment. This is why Heather was not certain if she had just misplaced her things, but, only until she looked at a local pawn shop. When she had asked her landlord to replace her unit lock, the landlord had quoted "$200.00, plus tax" An amount which Heather could NOT afford. This is when I asked "What about your parents house?" Heather had said "You haven't met them, yet." When I did meet them, and proposed the storage agreement, her mother had said "Fine by us. Just make sure it is during the day-time." Heather would tell me "My parents, and the day-time. Like life stops at sun-down." It was a few days later when Heather received the visit. While she thought it would be HIM, to say when he would be available, again, it turned out to be the police. Heather was told "Maam, he skipped town. If you hear from him, call us." Heather agreed. When we returned to bed, Heather would say "I am not surprised. You know, baby, one time, he spent two years, skipping states, just to avoid a two year prison term". Now, while Heather was certain that she, or I, would be next, in the investigation, Heather was baffled at how many other people were called in, ahead of us. When I was called in, it was to be asked about my two visits, per month, to the convenience stores. When I mentioned that each visit, on the first, of each month, was for my rent money order, and that a second was for medications pick-up, the feds just scratched their heads. Heather admitted a monthly visit as well. At her store, however, the counter not only handled money orders, but allowed her to pay her phone, and electric, bills. The problem the feds had was that our stories were fact-for-fact the same as the record. We made the MOST of what little we had. Still, there were nearly 500 people, who enjoyed the thrill, of shopping convenience stores. These were the people who, no matter how many classes they were compelled to take, they would just go right back to the old way. Result, the very case-management units, which had been ordered cut, to avoid deficits, were under federal order, to EXPAND, and provide more services. When some agency directors would resign, saying "There is NO more MONEY, in the budget, for workers", the feds offered a compromise. Either more workers, or return the people to controlled care. This, because there was no, legal, basis, for shutting down the convenience stores. When Heather would hear some friends talk about "removing temptation", Heather would remind these people "No one is required, to shop the convenience stores." How would this "controversy" end? Who was at fault? Questions. Questions, Questions.

THE BEST OF TIMES

THE BEST OF TIMES No question. These were the times that we would remember, fondly, for the rest of our lives. Shanice was my first and, some say, my longest. My "in", with her was that her boyfriend was demanding more, and more, sex, from her, even for "everyday" chores. Shanice even told her friends "I hate to even ask him to help with the dishes, since I KNOW that he will demand either a blow, a pump, or access to my breasts." When I heard her speaking, to her friends, about HIM, I decided to ask if she would be willing. When Shanice asked what I would charge, I told her "I will let YOU set the payment." While the same friends, who INSISTED that I was a homo, insisted that Shanice was becoming a lesbian, since she would not let her man have what he wanted, these people were shocked when I began spending time, with Shanice. And, yes, it did begin with reading her mail. The difference was that I never tossed things aside, saying "junk". Instead, I showed her that I valued her intelligence, by telling her what each piece of mail was. My reward, for doing this, was the first, of MANY, DEEP, french, kisses. Soon, in return for my aiding her, with household chores, she began giving me beautiful, oral, sex. It was when I began advising her, on purchases, as well as aiding her, in assembling kit furrniture, which she had bought, that Shanice began sharing her bed with me. Man, how I LOVED Shanices, slim build, and those "B" cups. In fact, Shanices friends not only began to wonder, when Shanice began to smile, after my visits, that Heather became interested. Heathers man was acting just as Shanices man had been acting, when Shanice allowed me to take his place. When Heather asked Shanice, privately, what it was like, having me around, Shanice described a scene, from a romance novel. Shanice did warn Heather "Be careful, when he gets near your breasts." When Heather asked, Shanice would say "He nurses so beautifully that, at times, I have to remind myself that there is more to sex, than nursing." When Heather smiled, saying "I am sure I can take care of myself". Heather wondered, when Shanice said "Dont bet on it." Within the next two months, I had my choice, at any time, of which woman I wanted. Even better, when one was busy, she would send me to the other. Both women, however, had a problem. A problem, which had nothing to do with my exercise routine, or my diet. Un-like their other men, who sat before televisions, watching sports, while drinking beer, and eating snack foods, both women found a different problem with me. While both women heard that I was a writer, of short story fiction, both had thought that I was just a "wannabe". That is, until I used meal, and other, preparation, time, to work on my latest story. That, and the fact that I drank as much water, and iced tea, as their men drank beer, and both women began to wonder. Funny thing was, while in school, while both women learned the alphabet, neither cared about reading. As a result, upon reaching legal age, schools let the women leave school, but without graduation. Besides, WHAT did the women need reading for? They had people who would read, FOR them. This is why each was on disability. Functional Illiteracy was the NAME, of their "condition". For the past, few, years, it did not bother them, not being able to read. Besides, what good was reading, anyway? Just more of the same "news", about people bickering about what none could control. It was not until I began sharing their beds, that the women began wondering why their friends had begun reading my work. Now, granted, I am NO literary artist, but what people had come to like, about my work, was that my stories were relaxing. People could read, just to pass the time. This is why first Heather, then Shanice, decided to take adult reading classes. I had to agree with them, that adult education was better than public education. Public education just went to fast, for so many of us, and, with teachers not willing to answer questions, public education was becoming more of a WASTE, of tax-payer money, everyday. Even under pressure, from "No Child Left Behind", and "Race to the Top", schools were not doing the job they were established for. The job, of teaching children how to UNDERSTAND the INFORMATION, that they were studying, in order to turn information into KNOWLEDGE. As for me, I made, and kept, my promise, to help the women, in every way. (Even when that meant less sex, for study time) I think that what surprised my ladies reviewers was the fact of how MUCH my ladies had learned, AFTER leaving school. While both Shanice, and Heather, had left school, with just a second grade, reading, level, it would seem that, just by living life, each had advanced reading reading levels to fifth grade. Now, while the women were in class, learning to read, I was busy, not just writing, but with a national campaign. A campaign, which defeated the new Berlin Wall, and which was replacing this with encouraging other nations to apply for state-hood, in the U.S. While some politicians were, passionately OPPOSED to the very idea, they found themselves in a dissolving minority. While Shanice finished reading class, well ahead of Heather, in truth, it was as much MY fault, as Heathers. Simple fact was, when I noticed that Heather was getting the same "burn out" that so many other people get, when they need a break, when I asked what I could do, for her, Heather did not bother wasting words. She took down my pants, and got a good hold, even as I got very aroused. I dont know how but I "read her thoughts" about "I want it, NOW!" I just could not believe how aroused she was. Not until after "round one", when she went, and filled her breasts. Despite her mothers warnings, Heather did enjoy nursing me, with the erections, which followed. She "filled", and "drained", my "tank", three times, before she realized the time. When I realized the time, Heather told me "You were worth every moment." After I left Heather, I went to Shanice, asking my number one "I hope that I did not mess anything up, for her. She just wanted it." When Shanice asked "Did you force her?" I told her "Of course not." Shanice would smile as she said "Its not on you, then." Later, Shanice and I were just snuggling, and sharing some deep kisses, when the call came. After the call, Shanice smiled at me as she said "First, Heather says NOT to blame you. She needed it, and you gave it." When I asked "But?" Shanice would say "Heather says you were worth every moment, and the two week suspension." While, on Shanices "graduation day", she admitted "You would not believe me if I told you how HOTT I am, for you, right now." When I suggested "AFTER the ceremony?" She smiled as she said "For DAYS, after the ceremony." This is why Shanice graduated a full two WEEKS before Heather did. While I expected the same kind, of passionate, victory, celebration, with Heather, that I shared, with Shanice, what I did not expect was what I got. It seems that Shanice had not wanted a simple "repeat" of our celebration, when Heather graduated, my ladies invited a third, ivory, woman, to join in the "festivities". Shanice said that Caren wanted to know what it would be like, to graduate, to a good man. (It seems that Carens current man was the kind who enjoyed calling women dumb.) Now, Shanice was telling the woman that I was her chance to decide if she wanted to "risk" finding a better man. For the next week, I had my choice, of two ebonies, or an ivory. I just could not believe how exhausting sex could be (even when I was on the bottom.). After a week, of me, Caren told her "man" where to go! She began making plans. Starting with learning how to read. Still, I am not one to complain. I mean, I, now, had three women, any time I wanted them. I just dont know which was better. Trading drives home, with groceries, or trading drives, from appointments. As for my "plan", with these women, it was simple. Each of them had a pact, with me. Until they found their "Mr. Perfect", I would be their man. This way, with me, to fulfill their sexual desires, the women could make more informed decisions, about their men. What no one bothered to tell ME was that, with me, to keep them happy, the women could set their "Bar" very high, indeed. Why should they "settle" when they had ME. If I found anything STUPID, about these times, it was the guys, who stood around, "doing" themselves, while waiting for me to "croak". Their rationale: Most, of the men, that they knew, who were in their forties, were, either in wheelchairs, or dead. The "victims" of too much booze, and fast food. Men who, in their teens, had been lean, and fit (while in high school). Men who, years later, could, barely, stand up. The stupid guys were the jocks. The guys who, never, stopped trying out, for sports. (The main reason why none could go either Pro, or Semi-Pro, was due to drug testing) Of course, these guys were dumb enough, not just to not understand my diet, but the fact that I rode a bicycle, almost every day. The guys were annoyed that I kept smiles, on all three, of the womens faces. Yes, for years, these were the very BEST of times. Caren was the first to depart. While she had THOUGHT that she wanted an education, in order to improve her life, and chances, for better, marital, prospects, eventually, her "clock" began "reminding" her that "time was of the essence". She ended up with a man, about whom her biggest compliment was "He is a good, steady, worker." Shanice, and Heather, strove to improve their lives, and did so, in a very "under the counter" way. To protect their benefits, they only hired on, for cash. They did the best that they could. At least until regulators came into each "business", and shut it down. As for me, my very "Best of times" came when I became the "leader" of the new, state-hood, project. I just never dreamed of how busy a persons life could be, when charting the future of a nation. While I, eventually, lost all contact, with both Shanice, and Heather, I was able to locate Caren. She was living, alone, in a trailer. When I asked, she told me "My EX-husband is in prison. Refusal to pay child support." When I asked "The children?" Caren would say "Somewhere in the foster system. It seems that the feds decided that I was an un-fit mother." When I asked "Plans?" She whispered "Only this", then lead me to her bed. Later, after she said "Not bad", she told me that her long term plan was just to stay "below the radar", and wait for retirement. She was finished with the world. Still, all in all, these had been some of the very BEST TIMES, of my life. Times I would not have traded for gold. The very BEST of TIMES.