Amazing proof of technology that has yet to be equaled in modern times was being used in 15000 BC! In bolivia
http://www.world-mysteries.com/mpl_6.htm
Monday, November 30, 2009
interesting proof of alien life - antikythera
a crazy working clock mechanism from 200 BC!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antikythera_mechanism
The Antikythera mechanism (pronounced /ˌæntɪkɪˈθɪərə/ AN-ti-ki-THEER-ə), is an ancient mechanical calculator (also described as the first known mechanical computer)[1][2] designed to calculate astronomical positions. It was recovered in 1900–01 from the Antikythera wreck,[3] but its complexity and significance were not understood until decades later. It is now thought to have been built about 150–100 BC. Technological artifacts of similar complexity did not reappear until the 14th century, when mechanical astronomical clocks appeared in Europe.[4]
Jacques-Yves Cousteau visited the wreck for the last time in 1978,[5] but found no more remains of the Antikythera Mechanism. Professor Michael Edmunds of Cardiff University who led the most recent study of the mechanism said: "This device is just extraordinary, the only thing of its kind. The design is beautiful, the astronomy is exactly right. The way the mechanics are designed just makes your jaw drop. Whoever has done this has done it extremely carefully...in terms of historic and scarcity value, I have to regard this mechanism as being more valuable than the Mona Lisa."[6][7]
The device is displayed in the Bronze Collection of the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, accompanied by a reconstruction made and offered to the museum by Derek de Solla Price. Other reconstructions are on display at the American Computer Museum in Bozeman, Montana and the Children's Museum of Manhattan in New York and in Kassel, Germany.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antikythera_mechanism
The Antikythera mechanism (pronounced /ˌæntɪkɪˈθɪərə/ AN-ti-ki-THEER-ə), is an ancient mechanical calculator (also described as the first known mechanical computer)[1][2] designed to calculate astronomical positions. It was recovered in 1900–01 from the Antikythera wreck,[3] but its complexity and significance were not understood until decades later. It is now thought to have been built about 150–100 BC. Technological artifacts of similar complexity did not reappear until the 14th century, when mechanical astronomical clocks appeared in Europe.[4]
Jacques-Yves Cousteau visited the wreck for the last time in 1978,[5] but found no more remains of the Antikythera Mechanism. Professor Michael Edmunds of Cardiff University who led the most recent study of the mechanism said: "This device is just extraordinary, the only thing of its kind. The design is beautiful, the astronomy is exactly right. The way the mechanics are designed just makes your jaw drop. Whoever has done this has done it extremely carefully...in terms of historic and scarcity value, I have to regard this mechanism as being more valuable than the Mona Lisa."[6][7]
The device is displayed in the Bronze Collection of the National Archaeological Museum of Athens, accompanied by a reconstruction made and offered to the museum by Derek de Solla Price. Other reconstructions are on display at the American Computer Museum in Bozeman, Montana and the Children's Museum of Manhattan in New York and in Kassel, Germany.
on little children
so i don't want kids. maybe this will change but as of now i just cant understand it. it just seems like such a fruitless endeavor. bust my ass all my goddamn life to buy a nice house with a picket fence and a little fuckin dog. Use all my beer money to buy diapers and baby food cause you gotta feed these things, i guess.
And what thanks would i get? "Gee, thanks dad for buying this overpriced absorbant plastic that i wrap around myself so i can take a shit whenever i want." Wouldn't happen. Damn it. I want to take a shit whenever i want.
The reward ultimately is perhaps a smaller version of myself. Well, I'm not even especially fond of myself so another, whinier, helpless, more annoying version is not what this world needs. thank me now, because i just saved you a pain in the ass.
And what thanks would i get? "Gee, thanks dad for buying this overpriced absorbant plastic that i wrap around myself so i can take a shit whenever i want." Wouldn't happen. Damn it. I want to take a shit whenever i want.
The reward ultimately is perhaps a smaller version of myself. Well, I'm not even especially fond of myself so another, whinier, helpless, more annoying version is not what this world needs. thank me now, because i just saved you a pain in the ass.
i was thinking about getting a shopping cart
I was thinking about getting a shopping cart and bringing it with me wherever i go. I coupld out alot of my belongings in it, perhaps some clothes, and pictures of my relatives, so i could have them if necessary. It would be great because i could just hop into the cart and take a nap. Or if i found a nice bench i would have all the clothes and newspapers i would need to make myself quite comfortable, even some cardboard if it started to rain a little. I wouldn't even need a house. I only use it to keep my shit in, anyway.
the danger of the ducks
Ducks. When we think of ducks, we think of funny little birds with large bills. Right? Well, I’m here to say that they are a bit more than they seem. Actually, a lot more. The events I am going to relate here will be very hard to swallow. Just follow along and don’t stop ‘til the end.
It was abut 3 a.m. The buses had stopped. I was walking by the campus pond and had decided to go down and watch the ducks. I sat on a stone bench under a large tree and watched the ducks for several minutes. All of the little feathered things were flapping around and quacking their little quacks. Just normal harmless duck things. That is when it happened.
They came in from the sky in their large, silver disc like craft. The lights on it were flashing and there was peculiar hum that was barely detectable emanating from it. It came to a halt on the far side if the pond, right up to the edge of the water.
I saw them when they emerged.. From my vantage point from my bench under the trees, I was hidden and had a view of them. They were beings that were there but not there. They were ghostly beings, formless and colorless.
I wasn’t the only one that had noticed this large craft. The ducks were quacking and flapping their wings as the entire flock moved towards the craft and the forms. I heard clicking sounds from the beings that I guessed was their way of communicating. The flock finally settled in front of the aliens. I was surprised when one duck swam forward to the front of the flock and said to the beings in plain English,
“It’s about time you guys showed up! This long, stuck on this planet, in this get up of feathers and wings was starting to get to me. You left us here for 500 years. I thought the plan for an invasion was going to be put in effect 200 years ago. It’s about time. That ‘s why you guys are here, right?”.
The beings emitted more clicking sounds, which the ducks seemed to be listening to intently. Then the flock emitted a great amount of flapping and what sounded like laughing. It was obvious that the two groups were communicating. One of the beings went back into the craft and then emerged aging with what looked like a toy laser gun. The being aimed this at every duck one by one. When they were hit with this laser, the ducks instantly changed into one of the formless ghostly beings. They all were aliens.
I could not believe my eyes. This was just too much for me. I ran as swiftly and as quietly as I could from under the tree. I was not quiet enough. The entire group had their eyes on me. I kept running. They didn’t come after me.
The next day I was walking to the police station to report what I saw when a duck appeared in front of me. It looked me right in the eyes and in English again, said “We saw you last night. You will not tell anyone of our plans. I don not know how we did not detect you sooner. You are the one that could bring about our downfall. You will not live.” \
All around me ducks dive bombed me. I ran as fast as my feet could take me, dodging the ducks. That morning, I was pecked within an inch of my life.
Since them I have been on a crusade against the ducks. I tried to recruit many with no luck. I have fought ducks many times. I have tried to determine their plans, when they will make their move. I have not learned a thing. We must join together with me because it is the only hope against them. They will attack soon. We have no time to waste. Does anyone hear me? That is why you need to let me out of here. I am not crazy!!! You have to do something. Let me out. I am not crazy.”
Shut up! Inmate #47 you are giving me a headache. You’ve been yelling all day and I’ll send you to detention if you keep it up. Wait a minute, what is that quacking sound? Woah, the ducks, they’re everywhere!!! Help! Help!
It was abut 3 a.m. The buses had stopped. I was walking by the campus pond and had decided to go down and watch the ducks. I sat on a stone bench under a large tree and watched the ducks for several minutes. All of the little feathered things were flapping around and quacking their little quacks. Just normal harmless duck things. That is when it happened.
They came in from the sky in their large, silver disc like craft. The lights on it were flashing and there was peculiar hum that was barely detectable emanating from it. It came to a halt on the far side if the pond, right up to the edge of the water.
I saw them when they emerged.. From my vantage point from my bench under the trees, I was hidden and had a view of them. They were beings that were there but not there. They were ghostly beings, formless and colorless.
I wasn’t the only one that had noticed this large craft. The ducks were quacking and flapping their wings as the entire flock moved towards the craft and the forms. I heard clicking sounds from the beings that I guessed was their way of communicating. The flock finally settled in front of the aliens. I was surprised when one duck swam forward to the front of the flock and said to the beings in plain English,
“It’s about time you guys showed up! This long, stuck on this planet, in this get up of feathers and wings was starting to get to me. You left us here for 500 years. I thought the plan for an invasion was going to be put in effect 200 years ago. It’s about time. That ‘s why you guys are here, right?”.
The beings emitted more clicking sounds, which the ducks seemed to be listening to intently. Then the flock emitted a great amount of flapping and what sounded like laughing. It was obvious that the two groups were communicating. One of the beings went back into the craft and then emerged aging with what looked like a toy laser gun. The being aimed this at every duck one by one. When they were hit with this laser, the ducks instantly changed into one of the formless ghostly beings. They all were aliens.
I could not believe my eyes. This was just too much for me. I ran as swiftly and as quietly as I could from under the tree. I was not quiet enough. The entire group had their eyes on me. I kept running. They didn’t come after me.
The next day I was walking to the police station to report what I saw when a duck appeared in front of me. It looked me right in the eyes and in English again, said “We saw you last night. You will not tell anyone of our plans. I don not know how we did not detect you sooner. You are the one that could bring about our downfall. You will not live.” \
All around me ducks dive bombed me. I ran as fast as my feet could take me, dodging the ducks. That morning, I was pecked within an inch of my life.
Since them I have been on a crusade against the ducks. I tried to recruit many with no luck. I have fought ducks many times. I have tried to determine their plans, when they will make their move. I have not learned a thing. We must join together with me because it is the only hope against them. They will attack soon. We have no time to waste. Does anyone hear me? That is why you need to let me out of here. I am not crazy!!! You have to do something. Let me out. I am not crazy.”
Shut up! Inmate #47 you are giving me a headache. You’ve been yelling all day and I’ll send you to detention if you keep it up. Wait a minute, what is that quacking sound? Woah, the ducks, they’re everywhere!!! Help! Help!
Poetry
Peak is high
The snow covers the mountains
It is soft and untouched
The winds float lightly
Warmth on the front
Start, sun line
Mother makes a tired child supper
Descending
Penetrating all
Rivers roam side by side
City lights keep flow
Businesses become bankrupt
Men leave their jobs and find a new one somewhere else
Country farms worship passing
Mills churn
Nature imparts wares
Prerequisite for sediments
Oomph absconds
Faceless ride and enjoy
Depart for there is link
Formidably isolated
Isolating rapport
Nostalgic masses drink of the sweet nectar
No one stirs when everyone is gone
The rivers flow
The tree rests and blisters
The roots run far under
Reflective liquid surges
Back onto itself
Flames touch all and die
New countries arise out of ash
A war begins and all is consumed
One promotion with a superb surge
Provoked to the heavens
Divinity flies and alights upon partial regards
Manipulative yield by no means
Lonely river burns in deficient liberation
Densely ceaseless compulsion
Opaque monotony on an elderly generation
Mumbling man walking down the road
Fumes spit from the smokestacks
Seamstress drops a needle in the barn
She leaves and does not sew
An old dog lies on the floor
It sleeps and dreams of a march hare
A young boy draws a cartoon
As if he had been doing it all his life
The snow covers the mountains
It is soft and untouched
The winds float lightly
Warmth on the front
Start, sun line
Mother makes a tired child supper
Descending
Penetrating all
Rivers roam side by side
City lights keep flow
Businesses become bankrupt
Men leave their jobs and find a new one somewhere else
Country farms worship passing
Mills churn
Nature imparts wares
Prerequisite for sediments
Oomph absconds
Faceless ride and enjoy
Depart for there is link
Formidably isolated
Isolating rapport
Nostalgic masses drink of the sweet nectar
No one stirs when everyone is gone
The rivers flow
The tree rests and blisters
The roots run far under
Reflective liquid surges
Back onto itself
Flames touch all and die
New countries arise out of ash
A war begins and all is consumed
One promotion with a superb surge
Provoked to the heavens
Divinity flies and alights upon partial regards
Manipulative yield by no means
Lonely river burns in deficient liberation
Densely ceaseless compulsion
Opaque monotony on an elderly generation
Mumbling man walking down the road
Fumes spit from the smokestacks
Seamstress drops a needle in the barn
She leaves and does not sew
An old dog lies on the floor
It sleeps and dreams of a march hare
A young boy draws a cartoon
As if he had been doing it all his life
horror story
The dunes were quiet and cold as John Fitzer walked upon them. The wind whistled by, sending individual grains of sand spiraling along in an endless churn. John breathed heavily as he worked his way up a particularly steep, windy sand trail, sweat forming on his brow, then catching the breeze and dispersing into the atmosphere. He had been walking for the better part of an hour. He was surrounded now by an endless expanse of sand. The path he was traveling had been well tread and he was thankful for this because it would be hard to keep his bearings without it.
Clouds were forming and the sky seemed to grow darker in a very short period of time. John puzzled over this for a moment but continued on his way, confident that he would be reaching his destination soon, that being the rural strip of highway that ran the length of the dune and the suburban landscape that was on the other side.
John kept a steady pace. Each step he took, however, caused him noticeable fatigue. His legs were growing tired and there was a very distinct ache in his thigh muscles that made him stiffen with every step. The highway should be coming soon. Even at the top of this hill it might come into view. This thought gave John a little extra motivation and he quickened his pace, ignoring the increasing pain in his thighs.
He noticed now that the path that he was on had become clear of footprints. As far as he could see the sand was unbroken, with only the natural, windblown curves that differentiated each dune from every other. This was strange to John. The path did not split and as far as he was aware, this was the only direct way across this expanse of sand. Why would it not be riddled with steps after it had been up to this point?
He raced forward but each step seemed harder and harder to take. His feet seemed to become very heavy. It was as if they were being dragged down by some source from below the surface. John was having trouble taking steps now. He was fighting but was unable to clear his feet from the sand. He was only able to drag them, now grasping his legs and pulling forcibly, perhaps creating a humorous image to anyone who could have seen him, pulling at his legs and only shuffling along inch by inch. The severity of the situation was that his movement was being obstructed, he seemed almost to be attached to the sand in an irresistible and unbreakable bond.
John was unable to move at all now. He struggled and shook and screamed in terror. He dropped to his knees, feeling the dragging weight over his whole body, forcing him against his will down towards the soft, sandy floor. He was sucked down, sprawled out completely. He dug his hands deep into the sand, searching hopelessly for some sandy purchase. He cried now and yelled for help but there was no one to come to his aid. The force seemed to be increasing and now the sandy surface below him seemed to decrease in solidity. He began to sink, the crushing, dragging weight pulling him down. John raked his fingers along the sand as he sunk. Sand forced its way into his mouth and nose as he was pulled under. He was having trouble breathing now, gasping for air with only sand finding its way down his throat.
He screamed in pain. What felt like sharp nails were ripping at his legs, penetrating deeply into his calves. He felt the warmth of his own blood pour down his legs. Then came the sickening sensation of his legs being pulled apart, his bones crushing as a terrible force pulled and tore, separating the bones and sinews at the knee. John tried to scream but no more breath would come and none would leave through the sand clogging his nose and mouth. He felt himself grow faint and his eyes closed while the terrible scraping continued and he disappeared below the surface of the sand.
John came around and immediately noticed the pain in his legs. He groped them only to find wet stumps with sharp pieces of bone sticking out. He choked on sand and finally uttered screams and then more of them. The place was dark and cold. John stared desperately around in the pitch, trying to get his bearings, trying to ignore the pain in his legs and think rationally. As his eyes adjusted, it seemed to John that he was in a tunnel. The walls were solid, the sand having been bonded together. They were strong and did not give under Johns force.
It felt the vibration of movement through the walls of its sand home. It liked its prey alive and struggling and now was the time. It raced down the tunnel, spit dripping down its large serrated teeth. The taste of man’s blood when it licked its claws fueled its hunger.
John heard scraping. He saw something in the dark coming towards him now but he was unable to discern what it was. Only the yellow of its eyes could be seen, piercingly bright and approaching rapidly. He felt a terrible weight and a blinding pain as whatever it was attacked, pinning him down and sinking its razor sharp claws deep into his stomach. John screamed as a mouth opened wide and closed around his face.
Above the surface, Jerry and Alison Deveuve were sweating as they made their way up a steep, sandy path, and looked at each other in wonder as the footsteps they had been following disappeared. Below, the tunnel walls vibrated. It licked its lips. Blood dripped down its mouth but its hunger was never satisfied. It was time to feed again.
Clouds were forming and the sky seemed to grow darker in a very short period of time. John puzzled over this for a moment but continued on his way, confident that he would be reaching his destination soon, that being the rural strip of highway that ran the length of the dune and the suburban landscape that was on the other side.
John kept a steady pace. Each step he took, however, caused him noticeable fatigue. His legs were growing tired and there was a very distinct ache in his thigh muscles that made him stiffen with every step. The highway should be coming soon. Even at the top of this hill it might come into view. This thought gave John a little extra motivation and he quickened his pace, ignoring the increasing pain in his thighs.
He noticed now that the path that he was on had become clear of footprints. As far as he could see the sand was unbroken, with only the natural, windblown curves that differentiated each dune from every other. This was strange to John. The path did not split and as far as he was aware, this was the only direct way across this expanse of sand. Why would it not be riddled with steps after it had been up to this point?
He raced forward but each step seemed harder and harder to take. His feet seemed to become very heavy. It was as if they were being dragged down by some source from below the surface. John was having trouble taking steps now. He was fighting but was unable to clear his feet from the sand. He was only able to drag them, now grasping his legs and pulling forcibly, perhaps creating a humorous image to anyone who could have seen him, pulling at his legs and only shuffling along inch by inch. The severity of the situation was that his movement was being obstructed, he seemed almost to be attached to the sand in an irresistible and unbreakable bond.
John was unable to move at all now. He struggled and shook and screamed in terror. He dropped to his knees, feeling the dragging weight over his whole body, forcing him against his will down towards the soft, sandy floor. He was sucked down, sprawled out completely. He dug his hands deep into the sand, searching hopelessly for some sandy purchase. He cried now and yelled for help but there was no one to come to his aid. The force seemed to be increasing and now the sandy surface below him seemed to decrease in solidity. He began to sink, the crushing, dragging weight pulling him down. John raked his fingers along the sand as he sunk. Sand forced its way into his mouth and nose as he was pulled under. He was having trouble breathing now, gasping for air with only sand finding its way down his throat.
He screamed in pain. What felt like sharp nails were ripping at his legs, penetrating deeply into his calves. He felt the warmth of his own blood pour down his legs. Then came the sickening sensation of his legs being pulled apart, his bones crushing as a terrible force pulled and tore, separating the bones and sinews at the knee. John tried to scream but no more breath would come and none would leave through the sand clogging his nose and mouth. He felt himself grow faint and his eyes closed while the terrible scraping continued and he disappeared below the surface of the sand.
John came around and immediately noticed the pain in his legs. He groped them only to find wet stumps with sharp pieces of bone sticking out. He choked on sand and finally uttered screams and then more of them. The place was dark and cold. John stared desperately around in the pitch, trying to get his bearings, trying to ignore the pain in his legs and think rationally. As his eyes adjusted, it seemed to John that he was in a tunnel. The walls were solid, the sand having been bonded together. They were strong and did not give under Johns force.
It felt the vibration of movement through the walls of its sand home. It liked its prey alive and struggling and now was the time. It raced down the tunnel, spit dripping down its large serrated teeth. The taste of man’s blood when it licked its claws fueled its hunger.
John heard scraping. He saw something in the dark coming towards him now but he was unable to discern what it was. Only the yellow of its eyes could be seen, piercingly bright and approaching rapidly. He felt a terrible weight and a blinding pain as whatever it was attacked, pinning him down and sinking its razor sharp claws deep into his stomach. John screamed as a mouth opened wide and closed around his face.
Above the surface, Jerry and Alison Deveuve were sweating as they made their way up a steep, sandy path, and looked at each other in wonder as the footsteps they had been following disappeared. Below, the tunnel walls vibrated. It licked its lips. Blood dripped down its mouth but its hunger was never satisfied. It was time to feed again.
Erotic Fiction
What a difference a love makes
As the snow fell, Lillian was someplace warm. She was in John’s room. It was a place that she loved to be. John was nibbling on her neck. Her body tingled as he slid his tongue slowly down. He licked and bit her nipples and she felt a warm, wet rush build between her legs.
She reached down and felt his hard cock underneath his boxer shorts. She unbuttoned his pants and took his swollen member with her hand. She pumped slowly and softly and felt the first beads of his cum drip slowly out. John moaned and ran his fingers down her stomach and into her panties. She shuddered with pleasure as John ran his finger lightly along her wet slit and slid it slowly inside her. He moved down, with one finger sliding in and out slowly, and kissed her inner thigh. John’s tongue was so warm as he ran it in circles on her inner thigh and gradually brought it to her clit. It was hard and sticking up a little bit as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it lightly, giving her a little blow job. She started grinding against him now, pushing herself against his wet mouth and finger that was filling her up. She felt herself starting to melt.
“Do you want me to feel inside you?” purred John. She wanted nothing more.
“Fill me up, baby.” she begged him. She could not stand it. She wanted his big cock inside her. She wanted to be fucked, hard.
John took her panties with his mouth and pulled them down her legs and off slowly. Then he revealed himself. She looked at his hard cock. It was quivering and ready to fill her up.
Lillian loved John’s cock. It was so beautiful. It was so wonderful. Every time she saw it, it made her wet and wild with desire. She grasped it with her hands and pulled him towards her. She gasped as he entered her. She beckoned him, contracting her muscles and holding him tight. John’s hard cock made its way slowly all the way inside her. She squealed as he filled her up to the brim and went as deep as anything possible. She felt the veins on his hard cock rubbing against her wet walls. She felt the head of his penis grow larger inside her.
John increased the pace, sliding in and out of her quickly. The vibrations went up and down her body. His large testicles slapped against her tight ass. She was getting fucked and she loved every minute of it. His hard body slammed against hers and she began to lose control. They moaned together. John desperately brought his lips to hers and she tasted his kiss and sucked on his tongue.
They moved together, as one, irresistibly entwined. Lillian could feel her mans cock swell inside her, getting ready to burst and coat her with its warm juices. She squeezed on him even harder, and she felt her pussy drip and melt around him. It was overwhelming now. She could not take it.
“Fuck me harder. Come inside me now.” She reached around and grabbed John’s tight ass, pulling him towards her as hard as she could. She could not stand it now.
They came together. They clutched at each other desperately, pulled each other, smothered each other. Johns prick exploded inside her, his warmth penetrating her to the core as she shuddered uncontrollably and felt herself melt around him in wave after wave of mind blowing ecstasy.
They were both breathing hard and John collapsed on top of her, leaving his huge pulsing member swimming deep within her dripping pussy.
“I have to go,” Lillian said, as they lay afterwards, smoking a cigarette and basking in the glory of their satisfaction.
“Ok. Will you come over later?” John asked.
“I don’t think so’, Lillian said. “We’re still broken up. I love this but it can not be the way that it was. I do not want a relationship. Maybe someday, when you start to take care of yourself better and can actually take care of someone. I‘d like to see you every now and then but not in any form of a relationship.”
“Lillian, listen. I cant -” John closed his eyes, resigning himself to not saying what he was just about to, and, with a slight hesitation, said “You had better go, then.”
Lillian dressed quickly, gave John a good bye kiss which seemed to her as only half-heartedly returned, and made her way out his front door and on to the street. She began to walk rather vigorously. She was agitated after all of that. She loved him still, after all their problems. His hard member always brought her back. She needed it, craved it. She became wet as she walked just thinking about it. But what should she do? She needed to do something else with her life. As much as she loved John filling her up in a way that no one ever has, she could not stand the thought of living her whole life without knowing if there was one that could fill her up even more. She needed to talk to Craig.
Craig was Lillian’s best friend. They had known each other since they were very young. Her first memory of him was when he threw a water balloon at her from his tree fort, proclaiming
“No girls allowed.”
She was furious and climbed as fast as she could, burst into his tree fort, and made to throttle him for all he was worth.
“Wow”, Craig exclaimed as he nimbly skipped around the fort, easily evading her grasp, “I’ve never seen a girl who could climb that well. You can be allowed.”
Craig’s deep blue eyes and easy smile caught Lillian off guard even then. She was, from that day forward, an honorary boy and they would meet in that tree house nearly every day for the next many years, first to talk about how to get rid of the girls in their neighborhood, then to move onto every topic friends discuss as they grow together.
Nothing had ever happened between them, though Lillian suspected thought about it often and suspected Craig did as well. Late evening discussions had often left them in each others arms, holding each other tightly for reassurance against the big world that they lived in.
The 2 of them were in their late 20’s but still made visits together to sit in the fort and talk whenever one, or the both of them, had something that needed discussion.
It was in the fort that Craig met her that day, a huge smile on his face.
“How are you, girl. It’s been awhile. How’s old what’s-his-name?”
“Oh, Craig. I guess I didn’t tell you. I left him. I just can not be with him now, even though I guess I still want to be. It’s just so hard to do what is right these days, you know.”
Craig did know. He always knew. His smile vanished immediately and he held her, like he always did, in the way that let her know that everything was alright.
Lillian brushed Craig’s curly black hair back and saw him then, as if for the first time. He was very handsome and very successful. He had always been there for her, despite the times she had been a self-declared bitch. He had always been the friend that John never was. John loved her and cared immensely, she knew. They had never had such a connection, though. Craig never expected sex in return for his efforts. His only hope, it seemed, was to make her smile.
She buried her head in his chest and felt the muscles ripple beneath it. Then she felt a marvelous bulge press against her. Maybe she had felt it before but had not noticed. Maybe she wanted to notice now.
“Oh, Craig” she gasped and before she knew what she was doing, she had her lips on his and was overwhelmed by the taste and beauty of his tongue.
They kissed for what seemed like hours. She ground herself into him, feeling the bulge grow even larger. Finally, Lillian drew her lips away and looked into her friends eyes. His beautiful eyes.
Craig smiled, knowingly, as if he had planned the whole thing. Without a word, he took her hand and led her up the rickety steps of the old tree fort. The minute they were at the top of the stairs, Lillian was on him. She grabbed him and pushed him to the ground and then jumped on top of him She took hold of the collars of his white shirt and ripped, popping each button off and sending them flying in all directions.
Craig was doing the same thing. He pulled her down to him, pushing each sleeve of her pea coat off of her shoulders and then grabbing it and tossing it away. He unbuttoned each of her buttons slowly and buried his face against her chest. He kissed her breasts, moving her bra slowly down to expose each one.
It was freezing outside but Lillian got hotter than a microwave with each kiss. She felt his hard cock aching to be free of its confines. She wanted him inside her, to feel him so deeply, to know him in a way that she never had He ground himself into her, his mountainous bulge massaging her and she felt herself explode with a wet warmth.
Lillian could not control it now. She pushed him down, undid his buttons and exposed his huge, throbbing member. She felt light headed as she saw how big his cock was and how ready it was for her. She pushed her panties aside and came down on him hard. His cock slid in easily and she gasped as it filled her. It was overwhelming. She came down on him, again and again, but never fast enough. She ached as she felt his cock slide in and out. She came up too high and his penis slid out. Lillian screamed with frustration. She grabbed it and came down on it even harder. She felt it throb as it entered her again. Craig moaned and pulled her down to him, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her neck and breasts desperately. His penis filled her and he moaned,
“Oh I’m cumming. You fuck me so good. I’m cumming so fucking hard.”
She felt him explode. She felt his hot load shoot up inside her. That was all it took. She came, wave after wave of screaming ecstasy. She melted around him and collapsed on to him. They were both sweating and breathing heavily.
“I have been waiting for that for a long time, girl.” Craig said. “I knew you wanted me. I knew that we could be perfect together.”
Lillian smiled at him and kissed him deeply. But even then, with his hard cock still pulsating inside her, she knew that it had been a mistake. He was her friend, not her lover. As confused and stressed by her whole situation as she was, even right then she knew that Craig could be nothing more than a friend.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I shouldn’t have done that. This is just a very confusing time right now.” she said.
Craig ran his fingers through her hair.
“I think this is the only thing that has made sense in a long time.” he said.
“You have been with that jerk. I watched him treat you like crap but never said anything because I know that you loved him. I’m just glad that you finally found out so we can be what we always could have been.”
“John is not a jerk. He loves me more than anyone ever has.” Lillian jumped off Craig now. She felt his hot load slide down her leg and she shuddered.
“If you’re such a good friend, you should have told me how you felt about it instead of just sitting there and watching me live in something you thought was terrible.”
Craig stood up and reached for her. Lillian stepped away.
“Lil, I just wanted you to be happy, even if it was not with me.”
“So you wanted this the whole time? As close as we have ever been, that was your only motive?”
“For us to be together, to be happy, like you always were when you were with me? Yes. I guess that it was.”
Lillian could not even look at him now. It was all he had ever wanted. The friendship was nothing more than an effort by him to be with her. Even years ago, he would always ask her to kiss him, even ask her to lift up her shirt. It was a game then or so Lillian thought. She never thought of him in that way and what happened just then should not have happened.
“I’m sorry, Craig” she said.
“I….I have to go.”
She began to descend the steps of the tree house.
“Wait. Lillian, wait. This is all I have ever wanted. Don’t take it away now.”
Tears began pouring down Lillian’s cheeks. It was not right. It was not the way it was supposed to go. John was supposed to make her happy. John did make her happy. Only by hearing these words from Craig did she actually realize it.
John was watching television and cursing himself. Why couldn’t she be with him? Why was it so damn hard? It did not seem to be that hard when they met. Throughout the relationship, all he had done was what he thought was right. Why couldn’t it be the way it used to? They both seemed so happy.
John was happy now, though. He loved her but he had not been wasting his time. Screw her for leaving it open like that. She came over whenever she was horny it seemed and that was it. He was still emotionally involved and she was not. He felt used and hurt and made the decision awhile ago to not let that happen to him.
There was a ring at the door bell. Who could it be now? It was almost 2 in the morning. John played around with the idea of hiding and not answering the door. His mind got the better of him, though, as he began to think it might be a friend in trouble or, maybe even better, Lillian, struck with grief and wanting him back.
He made his way to the door and it was her. Lillian’s eyes were wet with tears and she burst in the door as soon as John opened it and held him tightly.
“I made a terrible mistake,’ Lillian said, crying uncontrollably now. “I want nothing more than to be with you forever and ever. I am so sorry, baby.”
She looked up into his eyes.
“Please take me back. I promise myself to you for the rest of my life. I can’t live without you.”
John looked at her and smiled but Lillian saw that he had a worried look in his eyes.
They were still standing in the doorway. Lillian was reveling in her epiphany and was covering his face with little kisses This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She knew that now and felt herself start to drip at the very thought of it.
Just then, a car pulled into the driveway. A very pretty girl got out and walked up to where the two of them were standing. John became rigid and moved several steps away from Lillian. She saw that he started to shake.
“Hey baby. Surprise!’ this girl said, addressing John.
“Hey, baby girl. I didn’t know you were coming tonight. I thought you would not be back from your trip until tomorrow” John said and walked over to her and kissed her just as he had just kissed Lillian.
Lillian could not believe what she was witnessing. “Baby girl” is what he called her and only her.
“Yeah, I thought I would surprise you. I can’t stand when I am not with you. My work ended early and I have been racing for most of the day to make it here to you.”
“Who is this?” Lillian screamed. She was utterly amazed about what she was seeing right in front of her.
The two of them, with their arms around each other, turned to face her.
“Lillian, this is Natasha. She is wonderful. We met after you left me. I did not think you would ever come back and could not just wait for that someday you always mentioned, when you might be able to stand me and want this relationship. I have told you that I do not ever have that time. She treats me right and is not afraid of what I have to offer.”
Lillian began to cry, now. She collapsed in front of the two of them.
“I am sorry, Lillian. I wanted you more than anything else in the world but it is hard when that feeling is not reciprocated. I have been waiting for you to come back for a long time. I have been hoping that you would show up on my door one day and do what you have just done. You just waited too long.”
John and Natasha went inside and closed the door behind them. Lillian sat on the front step for most of that night. At times, she heard a moan of pleasure as Natasha felt John’s muscle fill her, and cried as she thought that it could have been her in his arms, could have been her that he was filling up. As the sun was rising, she stood up, dried her eyes, and walked slowly down the street.
“I will never love anyone if I can not have him.” She said softly to herself. “I will wait for him forever.”
She was good with her resolve and died, many years later, alone. Her last thought brought the last of the many tears she had shed throughout her lonely life. She remembered the time she made the fateful decision to push away the love of her life.
As the snow fell, Lillian was someplace warm. She was in John’s room. It was a place that she loved to be. John was nibbling on her neck. Her body tingled as he slid his tongue slowly down. He licked and bit her nipples and she felt a warm, wet rush build between her legs.
She reached down and felt his hard cock underneath his boxer shorts. She unbuttoned his pants and took his swollen member with her hand. She pumped slowly and softly and felt the first beads of his cum drip slowly out. John moaned and ran his fingers down her stomach and into her panties. She shuddered with pleasure as John ran his finger lightly along her wet slit and slid it slowly inside her. He moved down, with one finger sliding in and out slowly, and kissed her inner thigh. John’s tongue was so warm as he ran it in circles on her inner thigh and gradually brought it to her clit. It was hard and sticking up a little bit as he took it in his mouth and sucked on it lightly, giving her a little blow job. She started grinding against him now, pushing herself against his wet mouth and finger that was filling her up. She felt herself starting to melt.
“Do you want me to feel inside you?” purred John. She wanted nothing more.
“Fill me up, baby.” she begged him. She could not stand it. She wanted his big cock inside her. She wanted to be fucked, hard.
John took her panties with his mouth and pulled them down her legs and off slowly. Then he revealed himself. She looked at his hard cock. It was quivering and ready to fill her up.
Lillian loved John’s cock. It was so beautiful. It was so wonderful. Every time she saw it, it made her wet and wild with desire. She grasped it with her hands and pulled him towards her. She gasped as he entered her. She beckoned him, contracting her muscles and holding him tight. John’s hard cock made its way slowly all the way inside her. She squealed as he filled her up to the brim and went as deep as anything possible. She felt the veins on his hard cock rubbing against her wet walls. She felt the head of his penis grow larger inside her.
John increased the pace, sliding in and out of her quickly. The vibrations went up and down her body. His large testicles slapped against her tight ass. She was getting fucked and she loved every minute of it. His hard body slammed against hers and she began to lose control. They moaned together. John desperately brought his lips to hers and she tasted his kiss and sucked on his tongue.
They moved together, as one, irresistibly entwined. Lillian could feel her mans cock swell inside her, getting ready to burst and coat her with its warm juices. She squeezed on him even harder, and she felt her pussy drip and melt around him. It was overwhelming now. She could not take it.
“Fuck me harder. Come inside me now.” She reached around and grabbed John’s tight ass, pulling him towards her as hard as she could. She could not stand it now.
They came together. They clutched at each other desperately, pulled each other, smothered each other. Johns prick exploded inside her, his warmth penetrating her to the core as she shuddered uncontrollably and felt herself melt around him in wave after wave of mind blowing ecstasy.
They were both breathing hard and John collapsed on top of her, leaving his huge pulsing member swimming deep within her dripping pussy.
“I have to go,” Lillian said, as they lay afterwards, smoking a cigarette and basking in the glory of their satisfaction.
“Ok. Will you come over later?” John asked.
“I don’t think so’, Lillian said. “We’re still broken up. I love this but it can not be the way that it was. I do not want a relationship. Maybe someday, when you start to take care of yourself better and can actually take care of someone. I‘d like to see you every now and then but not in any form of a relationship.”
“Lillian, listen. I cant -” John closed his eyes, resigning himself to not saying what he was just about to, and, with a slight hesitation, said “You had better go, then.”
Lillian dressed quickly, gave John a good bye kiss which seemed to her as only half-heartedly returned, and made her way out his front door and on to the street. She began to walk rather vigorously. She was agitated after all of that. She loved him still, after all their problems. His hard member always brought her back. She needed it, craved it. She became wet as she walked just thinking about it. But what should she do? She needed to do something else with her life. As much as she loved John filling her up in a way that no one ever has, she could not stand the thought of living her whole life without knowing if there was one that could fill her up even more. She needed to talk to Craig.
Craig was Lillian’s best friend. They had known each other since they were very young. Her first memory of him was when he threw a water balloon at her from his tree fort, proclaiming
“No girls allowed.”
She was furious and climbed as fast as she could, burst into his tree fort, and made to throttle him for all he was worth.
“Wow”, Craig exclaimed as he nimbly skipped around the fort, easily evading her grasp, “I’ve never seen a girl who could climb that well. You can be allowed.”
Craig’s deep blue eyes and easy smile caught Lillian off guard even then. She was, from that day forward, an honorary boy and they would meet in that tree house nearly every day for the next many years, first to talk about how to get rid of the girls in their neighborhood, then to move onto every topic friends discuss as they grow together.
Nothing had ever happened between them, though Lillian suspected thought about it often and suspected Craig did as well. Late evening discussions had often left them in each others arms, holding each other tightly for reassurance against the big world that they lived in.
The 2 of them were in their late 20’s but still made visits together to sit in the fort and talk whenever one, or the both of them, had something that needed discussion.
It was in the fort that Craig met her that day, a huge smile on his face.
“How are you, girl. It’s been awhile. How’s old what’s-his-name?”
“Oh, Craig. I guess I didn’t tell you. I left him. I just can not be with him now, even though I guess I still want to be. It’s just so hard to do what is right these days, you know.”
Craig did know. He always knew. His smile vanished immediately and he held her, like he always did, in the way that let her know that everything was alright.
Lillian brushed Craig’s curly black hair back and saw him then, as if for the first time. He was very handsome and very successful. He had always been there for her, despite the times she had been a self-declared bitch. He had always been the friend that John never was. John loved her and cared immensely, she knew. They had never had such a connection, though. Craig never expected sex in return for his efforts. His only hope, it seemed, was to make her smile.
She buried her head in his chest and felt the muscles ripple beneath it. Then she felt a marvelous bulge press against her. Maybe she had felt it before but had not noticed. Maybe she wanted to notice now.
“Oh, Craig” she gasped and before she knew what she was doing, she had her lips on his and was overwhelmed by the taste and beauty of his tongue.
They kissed for what seemed like hours. She ground herself into him, feeling the bulge grow even larger. Finally, Lillian drew her lips away and looked into her friends eyes. His beautiful eyes.
Craig smiled, knowingly, as if he had planned the whole thing. Without a word, he took her hand and led her up the rickety steps of the old tree fort. The minute they were at the top of the stairs, Lillian was on him. She grabbed him and pushed him to the ground and then jumped on top of him She took hold of the collars of his white shirt and ripped, popping each button off and sending them flying in all directions.
Craig was doing the same thing. He pulled her down to him, pushing each sleeve of her pea coat off of her shoulders and then grabbing it and tossing it away. He unbuttoned each of her buttons slowly and buried his face against her chest. He kissed her breasts, moving her bra slowly down to expose each one.
It was freezing outside but Lillian got hotter than a microwave with each kiss. She felt his hard cock aching to be free of its confines. She wanted him inside her, to feel him so deeply, to know him in a way that she never had He ground himself into her, his mountainous bulge massaging her and she felt herself explode with a wet warmth.
Lillian could not control it now. She pushed him down, undid his buttons and exposed his huge, throbbing member. She felt light headed as she saw how big his cock was and how ready it was for her. She pushed her panties aside and came down on him hard. His cock slid in easily and she gasped as it filled her. It was overwhelming. She came down on him, again and again, but never fast enough. She ached as she felt his cock slide in and out. She came up too high and his penis slid out. Lillian screamed with frustration. She grabbed it and came down on it even harder. She felt it throb as it entered her again. Craig moaned and pulled her down to him, running his fingers through her hair and kissing her neck and breasts desperately. His penis filled her and he moaned,
“Oh I’m cumming. You fuck me so good. I’m cumming so fucking hard.”
She felt him explode. She felt his hot load shoot up inside her. That was all it took. She came, wave after wave of screaming ecstasy. She melted around him and collapsed on to him. They were both sweating and breathing heavily.
“I have been waiting for that for a long time, girl.” Craig said. “I knew you wanted me. I knew that we could be perfect together.”
Lillian smiled at him and kissed him deeply. But even then, with his hard cock still pulsating inside her, she knew that it had been a mistake. He was her friend, not her lover. As confused and stressed by her whole situation as she was, even right then she knew that Craig could be nothing more than a friend.
“I’m sorry, Craig. I shouldn’t have done that. This is just a very confusing time right now.” she said.
Craig ran his fingers through her hair.
“I think this is the only thing that has made sense in a long time.” he said.
“You have been with that jerk. I watched him treat you like crap but never said anything because I know that you loved him. I’m just glad that you finally found out so we can be what we always could have been.”
“John is not a jerk. He loves me more than anyone ever has.” Lillian jumped off Craig now. She felt his hot load slide down her leg and she shuddered.
“If you’re such a good friend, you should have told me how you felt about it instead of just sitting there and watching me live in something you thought was terrible.”
Craig stood up and reached for her. Lillian stepped away.
“Lil, I just wanted you to be happy, even if it was not with me.”
“So you wanted this the whole time? As close as we have ever been, that was your only motive?”
“For us to be together, to be happy, like you always were when you were with me? Yes. I guess that it was.”
Lillian could not even look at him now. It was all he had ever wanted. The friendship was nothing more than an effort by him to be with her. Even years ago, he would always ask her to kiss him, even ask her to lift up her shirt. It was a game then or so Lillian thought. She never thought of him in that way and what happened just then should not have happened.
“I’m sorry, Craig” she said.
“I….I have to go.”
She began to descend the steps of the tree house.
“Wait. Lillian, wait. This is all I have ever wanted. Don’t take it away now.”
Tears began pouring down Lillian’s cheeks. It was not right. It was not the way it was supposed to go. John was supposed to make her happy. John did make her happy. Only by hearing these words from Craig did she actually realize it.
John was watching television and cursing himself. Why couldn’t she be with him? Why was it so damn hard? It did not seem to be that hard when they met. Throughout the relationship, all he had done was what he thought was right. Why couldn’t it be the way it used to? They both seemed so happy.
John was happy now, though. He loved her but he had not been wasting his time. Screw her for leaving it open like that. She came over whenever she was horny it seemed and that was it. He was still emotionally involved and she was not. He felt used and hurt and made the decision awhile ago to not let that happen to him.
There was a ring at the door bell. Who could it be now? It was almost 2 in the morning. John played around with the idea of hiding and not answering the door. His mind got the better of him, though, as he began to think it might be a friend in trouble or, maybe even better, Lillian, struck with grief and wanting him back.
He made his way to the door and it was her. Lillian’s eyes were wet with tears and she burst in the door as soon as John opened it and held him tightly.
“I made a terrible mistake,’ Lillian said, crying uncontrollably now. “I want nothing more than to be with you forever and ever. I am so sorry, baby.”
She looked up into his eyes.
“Please take me back. I promise myself to you for the rest of my life. I can’t live without you.”
John looked at her and smiled but Lillian saw that he had a worried look in his eyes.
They were still standing in the doorway. Lillian was reveling in her epiphany and was covering his face with little kisses This was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She knew that now and felt herself start to drip at the very thought of it.
Just then, a car pulled into the driveway. A very pretty girl got out and walked up to where the two of them were standing. John became rigid and moved several steps away from Lillian. She saw that he started to shake.
“Hey baby. Surprise!’ this girl said, addressing John.
“Hey, baby girl. I didn’t know you were coming tonight. I thought you would not be back from your trip until tomorrow” John said and walked over to her and kissed her just as he had just kissed Lillian.
Lillian could not believe what she was witnessing. “Baby girl” is what he called her and only her.
“Yeah, I thought I would surprise you. I can’t stand when I am not with you. My work ended early and I have been racing for most of the day to make it here to you.”
“Who is this?” Lillian screamed. She was utterly amazed about what she was seeing right in front of her.
The two of them, with their arms around each other, turned to face her.
“Lillian, this is Natasha. She is wonderful. We met after you left me. I did not think you would ever come back and could not just wait for that someday you always mentioned, when you might be able to stand me and want this relationship. I have told you that I do not ever have that time. She treats me right and is not afraid of what I have to offer.”
Lillian began to cry, now. She collapsed in front of the two of them.
“I am sorry, Lillian. I wanted you more than anything else in the world but it is hard when that feeling is not reciprocated. I have been waiting for you to come back for a long time. I have been hoping that you would show up on my door one day and do what you have just done. You just waited too long.”
John and Natasha went inside and closed the door behind them. Lillian sat on the front step for most of that night. At times, she heard a moan of pleasure as Natasha felt John’s muscle fill her, and cried as she thought that it could have been her in his arms, could have been her that he was filling up. As the sun was rising, she stood up, dried her eyes, and walked slowly down the street.
“I will never love anyone if I can not have him.” She said softly to herself. “I will wait for him forever.”
She was good with her resolve and died, many years later, alone. Her last thought brought the last of the many tears she had shed throughout her lonely life. She remembered the time she made the fateful decision to push away the love of her life.
Childrens Story
Buddy the Bear finds his way
Buddy the Bear set out from his cave
On the morning of a bright fine day
He was excited…very, very excited…
As he made his merry way
He was taking a walk to the tangled wood
And he was looking forward to going there
He was to go to a bear country jam
And meet with his mother bear
He whistled as he walked
It was a very pleasant tune
He was getting more and more excited
As he knew he would be there soon
But suddenly angry clouds came in
And the bushes became very thick
And Buddy began to worry
And he felt a little sick
Buddy the bear looked all around
But the path did not seem right
The place was dark and scary
And his way was out of sight
I’m lost, he said, Oh my
What ever shall I do?
I must be brave and think a happy thought
If I am to make it through
So he smiled and thought of his mother
and walked through the deep wood
This happy thought made Buddy brave
as some happy thoughts could
There was nothing scary in the forest
Buddy began to see
There were other little animals like him
Living and playing in the tree
And when he made it through the scary trees
What do you think he saw?
There was mother bear at the country jam
She was smiling and waving her paw
Buddy was brave and made it through
He was happy to have learned something today
Although the path may be dark and scary
A happy thought can help you on your way
Buddy the Bear set out from his cave
On the morning of a bright fine day
He was excited…very, very excited…
As he made his merry way
He was taking a walk to the tangled wood
And he was looking forward to going there
He was to go to a bear country jam
And meet with his mother bear
He whistled as he walked
It was a very pleasant tune
He was getting more and more excited
As he knew he would be there soon
But suddenly angry clouds came in
And the bushes became very thick
And Buddy began to worry
And he felt a little sick
Buddy the bear looked all around
But the path did not seem right
The place was dark and scary
And his way was out of sight
I’m lost, he said, Oh my
What ever shall I do?
I must be brave and think a happy thought
If I am to make it through
So he smiled and thought of his mother
and walked through the deep wood
This happy thought made Buddy brave
as some happy thoughts could
There was nothing scary in the forest
Buddy began to see
There were other little animals like him
Living and playing in the tree
And when he made it through the scary trees
What do you think he saw?
There was mother bear at the country jam
She was smiling and waving her paw
Buddy was brave and made it through
He was happy to have learned something today
Although the path may be dark and scary
A happy thought can help you on your way
Pressing Issues - short story
“Pressing Issues”
The manager at Ace Printing Company was wary of the little man who now sat before him. The mans beady eyes, flannel shirt, and untrimmed mop made him resemble a serial murderer who the police had just brought to justice. This man was a killer who had a good job and a nice family, a regular well to do fellow who turned into a monster after the sun set. Nevertheless, he decided that he would exercise his best behavior. At least with his initial greeting.
“Howdy-doo, mister….Closoff? Am I pronouncing that correctly?”
“Yes sir, just like the things you and I are wearing. Please, though, call me Oliver.”
“Very well, Oliver. My name is Roger Bernard’, with a slight sneer ‘mister Bernard to everyone except my wife. Let me start this off by asking what brings you to my beloved printing company?”
Oliver hesitated a moment, seeming to ponder his next lines to a point, Bernard thought, that bordered on excessive.
“Well, sir,’ after what seemed like a long time, ‘I have been a farmer for my entire life. Planting, seeding, slaughtering, plowing, and other such activities have been my daily routine for as long as I can recall. The other day, I had what people call an epiphany. I just looked down at my field and felt like I can’t spend my whole life doing this stuff. There is too much out there to do instead of waiting for the corn to grow.”
He gave a nervous laugh.
“Spending a life time at this’, he continued ‘is no life in our world of technological advancement. I had a buddy who ran an underground funny pages of sorts who let me play around with his press from time to time and I always enjoyed it very much, even got to be quite good, as they tell me. So, to put the pig in the pot, as we say back home, I was wondering if you could offer me a job?”
Before Bernard could even think of a way to let this man down easily, which was surprising because of his repertoire of ways to do this, the little man piped up.
“Just give me a chance, sir. I sold my farm and most of my favorite things to move out here to ask you for a job. I won’t let you down.”
Somewhere, deep down in Roger Bernard’s cold, bitter heart, a pinprick of pity made its way through.
“Ah, hell,’ he thought ‘I guess I could give this guy a shot. What harm could it bring, anyway? If he sucks, I could have the pleasure of kicking him out the door.”
Bernard chuckled to himself a bit.
“Alright,’ Bernard said ‘This is what is going to happen. I’m going to give you a little job to run. If you can do it, in a respectable time, you have a job. Bear in mind, boy. My father built this company from the ground up, and entrusted it to me in 1920. I‘ve been running this thing for 15 years and from that day to this I have been dedicated to excellence so as to do my father proud. If you can‘t cut it, you‘re out.”
“You won’t regret this, mister Bernard.” Oliver exclaimed, enthusiastically.
“You’re damn right, I won’t,’ thought Bernard. He turned to his intercom and said,
“Lucius, it’s your time to shine.”
“Lucius ‘Bernard explained to Oliver ‘is our head printer here at Ace, He’ll give you that little job I spoke of.”
At that moment, an enormous fellow strode into the room. He was the biggest, meanest looking black man that Oliver had ever seen.
“This guy looks more like a boxer than a printer”, Oliver thought. “He looks like he would crush the press before he got any prints out of it.”
A little thought came into his head of this man pressing the buttons on the machine to start the printing process but instead of starting the job, the machine collapses under the sheer stress of this mans finger and explodes in a mess of screws and levers.
“Lucius’ Bernard said ‘this is Oliver, your new fresh meat, I mean, fresh face.”
Lucius’ giant hand grasped Oliver’s and shook until the little mans bones and sinews threatened to snap.
“Nice to meet you, Oliver” Lucius said, in a deep, throaty voice that reminded Oliver of the way a snake might greet a mouse.
“Care if we get started, Mr. Bernard?”
“Go right ahead. Good luck, Oliver”, Bernard said.
“This is quite a group of fellows, here’ Oliver thought. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left my farm.”
Lucius showed Oliver all around the press room. They went to the paper room, the ink storage, the cutting and collating room, and the dark room. Oliver marveled at all these things, having never been off his farm, much less into the hustle-and-bustle of a real, live, functioning printing company. Oliver was just a small town, country boy after all and wasn’t used to this much activity in such a small space.
After the tour, Lucius led Oliver over to a small corner of the building where a large pile of rusty junk sat in the corner, collecting dust and spider webs. Oliver was used to old presses for the one his friend had was not exactly in good working shape.
“This printing company ‘ Lucius explained ‘is responsible for printing our local paper as well as the papers for several surrounding counties. The reason being is that we are the best. Therefore, we need the best to keep our business running smooth. So, do this job well and you will be spared the pain of me throwing you out the door.”
The job Oliver was given required quite an amount of skill and labor to complete. Oliver worked hard and worked fast and finished the job quickly.
“How can you be done so fast, boy? That should have taken you twice as long.” Lucius’ face turned bright red and Oliver thought he could see smoke coming out of his ears.
Lucius was continuing his rant about the impossibility and the “goddamn nerve of you to be such a cocky bastard” when Bernard came by.
“How are we doing, Oliver?” asked Bernard, hoping to be answered with the desperation of hopeless defeat. Bernard noticed the neatly stacked piles of perfectly printed paper.
“Wow, Oliver. Top rate job. You’re definitely the right man. Just stupendous! Better watch yourself, Lucius. I think you have a rival for best pressman.”
With this, Bernard walked off. Lucius gave Oliver a very cold stare and felt the rage in his throat.
The time passed quickly for Oliver. He gained great respect from his fellow coworkers for being such a gifted pressman. All around the printing floor, they were saying things like,
“Hey did you hear that guy once ran the entire Sunday edition, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, in half as much time as that asshole, Lucius?”
Oliver being compared to Lucius was how all these stories ended. For Lucius, this was more than he could stand to hear. He began to think of the implications here. Lucius had worked hard, and been hard, to get where he was today.
“I’m not going to lose all that I have’ Lucius kept thinking ‘not when I can do something about it.”
But what could be done? Lucius had done evil things to get where he was. He was not afraid to do them again.
“It’s a ghastly business, but if taking this boy out is what’s necessary, that’s what I’m going to do.”
It was late and Oliver was busy. He had lately been allowed to stay by himself after hours, due to Bernard’s ever-increasing respect for such a talent. Bernard had asked and Oliver gratefully obliged. It was Oliver’s pleasure.
“I love the satisfaction of being able to get the important stuff out to the public.”, Oliver had said, and thought to himself now, as he busily bustled back and forth, his hands moving as efficiently as any machine’s, without a single movement wasted.
“This is a gift, to be able to contribute my services to advance the people’s knowledge of our world. I am able to expand their world. It is a true blessing.” He heaved a sigh of utter contentment. “One that I would not trade for anything. One that I would fight for.”
A rustling sound made Oliver twirl. He had a brief moment to see something large, dark, and bald hurtling toward him at tremendous speed before he was hit in the chest with an overwhelming force and tossed against the press. In his daze, Oliver struggled to make out the figure of his assailant.
“Not so confident now, are you, boy?’ came a growl that could only have belonged to Lucius.
“You know, ’Lucius went on ’I’ve been head pressman for here for over 20 years and I am not, repeat, not going to let you prissy foot your way in here and take away what I worked so hard for.”
Oliver saw the light catch a blade as it was removed from its sheath.
“It’s all over for you, boy.” Lucius growled and darted towards Oliver.
All Oliver could do was take one step back but one was enough. Oliver tripped and fell backwards, avoiding the serrated bringer of pain that Lucius was slicing erratically through the air. He knocked his head on the concrete and blacked out. Lucius, forced forward by his own momentum, with nothing to stop him, sped uncontrollably into the large press and hit his head on the press feeder with a terrible crunching sound. The machine was in full printing mode and the grabbing gears tangled Lucius’ clothes and skin together with the print job. Such a large obstruction did not slow this machine. Instead, it continued on its merry printing way. The local daily, however, was now being spit out the other end, printed in a brilliant red.
Oliver awoke several hours later, wondering why his clock hadn’t gone off. He had this horrible dream that Lucius came after him. Just a dream.
He started to lift himself. But he wasn’t in bed. His head ached and he remembered and screamed out loud. He looked around. The first thing he noticed was that the printer was still running, and a steady drip of red ink was being produced from the corner of the machine and pooling on the ground.
“I don’t use red ink.”
Oliver got to his feet and limped over to the press. His chest hurt. Something broken.
The press was fairly clean. It seemed that all of Lucius had been mixed together and had turned into this beautiful, bright red ink that had been used to print this mornings edition.
Oliver glanced at the clock on the wall. The edition was supposed to go out in one hour and the only versions Oliver had were red copies. There was no way he could print the whole edition again in that time.
“I guess I could send these out. Would it make a difference anyway? It would make a difference if there was nothing to go out. I won’t compromise my job because of this.”
When the local distributors came to pick up the neatly collated stacks of the morning edition, Oliver hid himself in the corner and crossed his fingers.
This news broadcast aired on the AM evening news.
“This mornings readers got a shock when they received their morning edition printed in red ink. The real news here, though, is the discovery that the red ink is nearly unsusceptible to wear. Mr. Ely Kensington noticed his child scrub the edition vigorously. Kensington noted that the paper was worn away but the ink had not faded in the slightest. His discovery prompted an immediate call to the press.
According to Roger Bernard, owner and general manager of Ace printing company, a pressman named Oliver Closoff ran this job. Closoff has been unreachable as of yet to shed any light on the ingredients of this newly dubbed “Super Ink”. This station will keep you up to date on this breaking news event.”
The next morning, Oliver arrived for work and was greeted by a small army of newsmen.
“Oliver, what is your “super ink” made of. Is it your own invention. I have been told that you are very skilled at working with ink. Have you been experimenting with new combinations?” a particularly beefy reporter who had muscled his way to the front asked.
“Well folks,’ Oliver said, thinking quickly ‘Right before my father died, he called me over to him and said ‘Ollie’ (he liked to call me Ollie), I have to let you in on a secret. This secret has never made its out of this family. Your grandfather was used to be a pressman and one day he came across a way to make ink that would never fade. He used this ink often but never gave away the recipe except to me, his only son. I never used it. You are my only son, and a pressman that would make your grandfather proud, so I will pass this recipe on to you. Your grandfather said never to give up the recipe, on his deathbed he made me promise him.’ And so, on my fathers death bed, I promised him that I would never give up the recipe. You’ll understand, surely, why I am not going to share it with you. Now excuse me, I have work to do.”
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked away from the mass of newsmen who had erupted in a cacophony of questions and yells of dissatisfaction.
“I’ve got myself in pretty deep, here.” Oliver thought.
He tried to get himself off his troubles by immersing himself in his work. He was just starting to feel a bit better when Roger Bernard raced into the press room.
“Oliver, where have you been. I’ve been looking for you all over.”
“Yesterday was my day off.” Oliver replied.
“It was? Are you sure? Well, never mind. I need you to print tomorrow mornings edition so make up a new batch of that “super ink” of yours. I was going to ask Lucius but he hasn’t been seen for a few days. Hit the road, finally. I was going to fire him anyway. He scared me. Oh, by the way, I don’t know what made you think it was alright to print in another color without asking me. Lucky for you your ink is amazing.” Bernard’s voice rose and fell as he spoke as if he was in a battle with himself over whether to get mad or not.
Oliver’s mind reeled and raced.
“Sir, this stuff doesn’t just pop out. I’m going to need time to make a new batch.”
Bernard’s face grew stern.
“You have until tonight or else you’re fired. I’ll let you do whatever you need to but get it done.”
Oliver was stressed. He paced the floor of his dirty apartment and spoke loudly to himself.
“What am I going to do? I can’t just say the stuff is made of blood. I won’t be able to prove that I didn’t just throw Lucius into the press. He was the one and only person that was keeping me from being the top pressman. I would get locked up and they would throw away that key. I guess I only have one choice.”
He was out on the street now. His eyes darted one way and then the other and then back. He spoke to himself in a low whisper.
“I don’t have another choice. I gave everything up to get where I am now and it will be a dark day in hell before I give it up. Besides, killing isn’t so bad.”
Oliver thought back to his days on the farm when he would have to slaughter pigs, cows, and chickens. He remembered even enjoying it.
“Why should people be any different?”
Oliver had been walking very quickly, with his head down, because he was in a very dangerous part of town. He did not notice the only other person on the street until he walked right into him.
“What the fuck?’ the little Italian with the ratty mustache said ’why don’t you look where you’re going, dumbass? I’m the only person on the sidewalk and you walk smack into me. HAHA, you dummy! Get out of here before I teach you a thing or 2 about how we handle dummies around here”
Oliver fumed at being dubbed a dummy.
“Better get it over with now ’ he thought and lunged. The little Italians screams were muffled by a gloved hand.
“I guess it’s all done, Mister Bernard.” Oliver said. He flipped through the stack of newspaper, the brilliant red ink catching the light and refracting it around the room.
“God bless you, Oliver. They’re beautiful. Just beautiful. A little lighter than the last batch, wouldn’t you say?”
“My ingredients were a tad bit lighter than that of my first,” Oliver explained. “It’s nearly impossible to get it right every time.”
“You have to let me in on this little secret one day, my boy,” Bernard said ‘perhaps I could help balance it out.”
Oliver chuckled.
“I could tell you but I would have to kill you.”
They both laughed.
So, dear reader, as they usually do, this story will come to an end. Oliver became the famous press man he always wanted. He patented his “O. C.’s never-fade” ink and made a nice fortune for himself. The police never caught on to his frightening escapades and actually pinned him a hero when he spent countless hours and gallons of his famous ink printing missing person posters for the people that seemed to be disappearing quite rapidly from the lower east side slums. Then Oliver, very proud and fulfilled by his efforts aiding the common work-a-day folks in getting their daily news, retired to a modest little place where he lives to this day. Despite now being at a very ripe old age, he still runs a little underground newspaper, printed with his gorgeous, glistening red “ink”.
The manager at Ace Printing Company was wary of the little man who now sat before him. The mans beady eyes, flannel shirt, and untrimmed mop made him resemble a serial murderer who the police had just brought to justice. This man was a killer who had a good job and a nice family, a regular well to do fellow who turned into a monster after the sun set. Nevertheless, he decided that he would exercise his best behavior. At least with his initial greeting.
“Howdy-doo, mister….Closoff? Am I pronouncing that correctly?”
“Yes sir, just like the things you and I are wearing. Please, though, call me Oliver.”
“Very well, Oliver. My name is Roger Bernard’, with a slight sneer ‘mister Bernard to everyone except my wife. Let me start this off by asking what brings you to my beloved printing company?”
Oliver hesitated a moment, seeming to ponder his next lines to a point, Bernard thought, that bordered on excessive.
“Well, sir,’ after what seemed like a long time, ‘I have been a farmer for my entire life. Planting, seeding, slaughtering, plowing, and other such activities have been my daily routine for as long as I can recall. The other day, I had what people call an epiphany. I just looked down at my field and felt like I can’t spend my whole life doing this stuff. There is too much out there to do instead of waiting for the corn to grow.”
He gave a nervous laugh.
“Spending a life time at this’, he continued ‘is no life in our world of technological advancement. I had a buddy who ran an underground funny pages of sorts who let me play around with his press from time to time and I always enjoyed it very much, even got to be quite good, as they tell me. So, to put the pig in the pot, as we say back home, I was wondering if you could offer me a job?”
Before Bernard could even think of a way to let this man down easily, which was surprising because of his repertoire of ways to do this, the little man piped up.
“Just give me a chance, sir. I sold my farm and most of my favorite things to move out here to ask you for a job. I won’t let you down.”
Somewhere, deep down in Roger Bernard’s cold, bitter heart, a pinprick of pity made its way through.
“Ah, hell,’ he thought ‘I guess I could give this guy a shot. What harm could it bring, anyway? If he sucks, I could have the pleasure of kicking him out the door.”
Bernard chuckled to himself a bit.
“Alright,’ Bernard said ‘This is what is going to happen. I’m going to give you a little job to run. If you can do it, in a respectable time, you have a job. Bear in mind, boy. My father built this company from the ground up, and entrusted it to me in 1920. I‘ve been running this thing for 15 years and from that day to this I have been dedicated to excellence so as to do my father proud. If you can‘t cut it, you‘re out.”
“You won’t regret this, mister Bernard.” Oliver exclaimed, enthusiastically.
“You’re damn right, I won’t,’ thought Bernard. He turned to his intercom and said,
“Lucius, it’s your time to shine.”
“Lucius ‘Bernard explained to Oliver ‘is our head printer here at Ace, He’ll give you that little job I spoke of.”
At that moment, an enormous fellow strode into the room. He was the biggest, meanest looking black man that Oliver had ever seen.
“This guy looks more like a boxer than a printer”, Oliver thought. “He looks like he would crush the press before he got any prints out of it.”
A little thought came into his head of this man pressing the buttons on the machine to start the printing process but instead of starting the job, the machine collapses under the sheer stress of this mans finger and explodes in a mess of screws and levers.
“Lucius’ Bernard said ‘this is Oliver, your new fresh meat, I mean, fresh face.”
Lucius’ giant hand grasped Oliver’s and shook until the little mans bones and sinews threatened to snap.
“Nice to meet you, Oliver” Lucius said, in a deep, throaty voice that reminded Oliver of the way a snake might greet a mouse.
“Care if we get started, Mr. Bernard?”
“Go right ahead. Good luck, Oliver”, Bernard said.
“This is quite a group of fellows, here’ Oliver thought. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left my farm.”
Lucius showed Oliver all around the press room. They went to the paper room, the ink storage, the cutting and collating room, and the dark room. Oliver marveled at all these things, having never been off his farm, much less into the hustle-and-bustle of a real, live, functioning printing company. Oliver was just a small town, country boy after all and wasn’t used to this much activity in such a small space.
After the tour, Lucius led Oliver over to a small corner of the building where a large pile of rusty junk sat in the corner, collecting dust and spider webs. Oliver was used to old presses for the one his friend had was not exactly in good working shape.
“This printing company ‘ Lucius explained ‘is responsible for printing our local paper as well as the papers for several surrounding counties. The reason being is that we are the best. Therefore, we need the best to keep our business running smooth. So, do this job well and you will be spared the pain of me throwing you out the door.”
The job Oliver was given required quite an amount of skill and labor to complete. Oliver worked hard and worked fast and finished the job quickly.
“How can you be done so fast, boy? That should have taken you twice as long.” Lucius’ face turned bright red and Oliver thought he could see smoke coming out of his ears.
Lucius was continuing his rant about the impossibility and the “goddamn nerve of you to be such a cocky bastard” when Bernard came by.
“How are we doing, Oliver?” asked Bernard, hoping to be answered with the desperation of hopeless defeat. Bernard noticed the neatly stacked piles of perfectly printed paper.
“Wow, Oliver. Top rate job. You’re definitely the right man. Just stupendous! Better watch yourself, Lucius. I think you have a rival for best pressman.”
With this, Bernard walked off. Lucius gave Oliver a very cold stare and felt the rage in his throat.
The time passed quickly for Oliver. He gained great respect from his fellow coworkers for being such a gifted pressman. All around the printing floor, they were saying things like,
“Hey did you hear that guy once ran the entire Sunday edition, blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, in half as much time as that asshole, Lucius?”
Oliver being compared to Lucius was how all these stories ended. For Lucius, this was more than he could stand to hear. He began to think of the implications here. Lucius had worked hard, and been hard, to get where he was today.
“I’m not going to lose all that I have’ Lucius kept thinking ‘not when I can do something about it.”
But what could be done? Lucius had done evil things to get where he was. He was not afraid to do them again.
“It’s a ghastly business, but if taking this boy out is what’s necessary, that’s what I’m going to do.”
It was late and Oliver was busy. He had lately been allowed to stay by himself after hours, due to Bernard’s ever-increasing respect for such a talent. Bernard had asked and Oliver gratefully obliged. It was Oliver’s pleasure.
“I love the satisfaction of being able to get the important stuff out to the public.”, Oliver had said, and thought to himself now, as he busily bustled back and forth, his hands moving as efficiently as any machine’s, without a single movement wasted.
“This is a gift, to be able to contribute my services to advance the people’s knowledge of our world. I am able to expand their world. It is a true blessing.” He heaved a sigh of utter contentment. “One that I would not trade for anything. One that I would fight for.”
A rustling sound made Oliver twirl. He had a brief moment to see something large, dark, and bald hurtling toward him at tremendous speed before he was hit in the chest with an overwhelming force and tossed against the press. In his daze, Oliver struggled to make out the figure of his assailant.
“Not so confident now, are you, boy?’ came a growl that could only have belonged to Lucius.
“You know, ’Lucius went on ’I’ve been head pressman for here for over 20 years and I am not, repeat, not going to let you prissy foot your way in here and take away what I worked so hard for.”
Oliver saw the light catch a blade as it was removed from its sheath.
“It’s all over for you, boy.” Lucius growled and darted towards Oliver.
All Oliver could do was take one step back but one was enough. Oliver tripped and fell backwards, avoiding the serrated bringer of pain that Lucius was slicing erratically through the air. He knocked his head on the concrete and blacked out. Lucius, forced forward by his own momentum, with nothing to stop him, sped uncontrollably into the large press and hit his head on the press feeder with a terrible crunching sound. The machine was in full printing mode and the grabbing gears tangled Lucius’ clothes and skin together with the print job. Such a large obstruction did not slow this machine. Instead, it continued on its merry printing way. The local daily, however, was now being spit out the other end, printed in a brilliant red.
Oliver awoke several hours later, wondering why his clock hadn’t gone off. He had this horrible dream that Lucius came after him. Just a dream.
He started to lift himself. But he wasn’t in bed. His head ached and he remembered and screamed out loud. He looked around. The first thing he noticed was that the printer was still running, and a steady drip of red ink was being produced from the corner of the machine and pooling on the ground.
“I don’t use red ink.”
Oliver got to his feet and limped over to the press. His chest hurt. Something broken.
The press was fairly clean. It seemed that all of Lucius had been mixed together and had turned into this beautiful, bright red ink that had been used to print this mornings edition.
Oliver glanced at the clock on the wall. The edition was supposed to go out in one hour and the only versions Oliver had were red copies. There was no way he could print the whole edition again in that time.
“I guess I could send these out. Would it make a difference anyway? It would make a difference if there was nothing to go out. I won’t compromise my job because of this.”
When the local distributors came to pick up the neatly collated stacks of the morning edition, Oliver hid himself in the corner and crossed his fingers.
This news broadcast aired on the AM evening news.
“This mornings readers got a shock when they received their morning edition printed in red ink. The real news here, though, is the discovery that the red ink is nearly unsusceptible to wear. Mr. Ely Kensington noticed his child scrub the edition vigorously. Kensington noted that the paper was worn away but the ink had not faded in the slightest. His discovery prompted an immediate call to the press.
According to Roger Bernard, owner and general manager of Ace printing company, a pressman named Oliver Closoff ran this job. Closoff has been unreachable as of yet to shed any light on the ingredients of this newly dubbed “Super Ink”. This station will keep you up to date on this breaking news event.”
The next morning, Oliver arrived for work and was greeted by a small army of newsmen.
“Oliver, what is your “super ink” made of. Is it your own invention. I have been told that you are very skilled at working with ink. Have you been experimenting with new combinations?” a particularly beefy reporter who had muscled his way to the front asked.
“Well folks,’ Oliver said, thinking quickly ‘Right before my father died, he called me over to him and said ‘Ollie’ (he liked to call me Ollie), I have to let you in on a secret. This secret has never made its out of this family. Your grandfather was used to be a pressman and one day he came across a way to make ink that would never fade. He used this ink often but never gave away the recipe except to me, his only son. I never used it. You are my only son, and a pressman that would make your grandfather proud, so I will pass this recipe on to you. Your grandfather said never to give up the recipe, on his deathbed he made me promise him.’ And so, on my fathers death bed, I promised him that I would never give up the recipe. You’ll understand, surely, why I am not going to share it with you. Now excuse me, I have work to do.”
Oliver breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead as he walked away from the mass of newsmen who had erupted in a cacophony of questions and yells of dissatisfaction.
“I’ve got myself in pretty deep, here.” Oliver thought.
He tried to get himself off his troubles by immersing himself in his work. He was just starting to feel a bit better when Roger Bernard raced into the press room.
“Oliver, where have you been. I’ve been looking for you all over.”
“Yesterday was my day off.” Oliver replied.
“It was? Are you sure? Well, never mind. I need you to print tomorrow mornings edition so make up a new batch of that “super ink” of yours. I was going to ask Lucius but he hasn’t been seen for a few days. Hit the road, finally. I was going to fire him anyway. He scared me. Oh, by the way, I don’t know what made you think it was alright to print in another color without asking me. Lucky for you your ink is amazing.” Bernard’s voice rose and fell as he spoke as if he was in a battle with himself over whether to get mad or not.
Oliver’s mind reeled and raced.
“Sir, this stuff doesn’t just pop out. I’m going to need time to make a new batch.”
Bernard’s face grew stern.
“You have until tonight or else you’re fired. I’ll let you do whatever you need to but get it done.”
Oliver was stressed. He paced the floor of his dirty apartment and spoke loudly to himself.
“What am I going to do? I can’t just say the stuff is made of blood. I won’t be able to prove that I didn’t just throw Lucius into the press. He was the one and only person that was keeping me from being the top pressman. I would get locked up and they would throw away that key. I guess I only have one choice.”
He was out on the street now. His eyes darted one way and then the other and then back. He spoke to himself in a low whisper.
“I don’t have another choice. I gave everything up to get where I am now and it will be a dark day in hell before I give it up. Besides, killing isn’t so bad.”
Oliver thought back to his days on the farm when he would have to slaughter pigs, cows, and chickens. He remembered even enjoying it.
“Why should people be any different?”
Oliver had been walking very quickly, with his head down, because he was in a very dangerous part of town. He did not notice the only other person on the street until he walked right into him.
“What the fuck?’ the little Italian with the ratty mustache said ’why don’t you look where you’re going, dumbass? I’m the only person on the sidewalk and you walk smack into me. HAHA, you dummy! Get out of here before I teach you a thing or 2 about how we handle dummies around here”
Oliver fumed at being dubbed a dummy.
“Better get it over with now ’ he thought and lunged. The little Italians screams were muffled by a gloved hand.
“I guess it’s all done, Mister Bernard.” Oliver said. He flipped through the stack of newspaper, the brilliant red ink catching the light and refracting it around the room.
“God bless you, Oliver. They’re beautiful. Just beautiful. A little lighter than the last batch, wouldn’t you say?”
“My ingredients were a tad bit lighter than that of my first,” Oliver explained. “It’s nearly impossible to get it right every time.”
“You have to let me in on this little secret one day, my boy,” Bernard said ‘perhaps I could help balance it out.”
Oliver chuckled.
“I could tell you but I would have to kill you.”
They both laughed.
So, dear reader, as they usually do, this story will come to an end. Oliver became the famous press man he always wanted. He patented his “O. C.’s never-fade” ink and made a nice fortune for himself. The police never caught on to his frightening escapades and actually pinned him a hero when he spent countless hours and gallons of his famous ink printing missing person posters for the people that seemed to be disappearing quite rapidly from the lower east side slums. Then Oliver, very proud and fulfilled by his efforts aiding the common work-a-day folks in getting their daily news, retired to a modest little place where he lives to this day. Despite now being at a very ripe old age, he still runs a little underground newspaper, printed with his gorgeous, glistening red “ink”.
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