"I am everything to everyone, yet you are nothing to me." - Petronix

Taylor is one of those rare people that can draw you in with just a look...

"I am just going outside and may be some time." ~ Lawrence Edward Grace Oates

"I would not do again what I have done once."

I love it.

A kind of interesting find, the things Europeans will do for fun.

Doing the ERTZ

Taylor Swift

Remember, remember the Eleventh of September.

One of the more tolerable songs (and videos) of the last few years...

There is nothing so satisfying as toiling seven days a week for an ungrateful master.

24 days in a row so far...

A classic since 1887.



The next time I'm in Brooklyn, which might be as early as this fall, I'm making it a point to stop in for a steak.

One of the more unique things about Peter Luger's is that they do not accept credit cards, cash only.

This movie looks like it might be pretty cool. Too bad they had to butcher the song for the trailer, oh well.

I'm thinking (since a few minutes ago) maybe it's time for me to sell the old homestead and move on to greener pastures.

I've been in this house for 6 years and almost have it done to the point of being what I need as a single guy.

1. I've remodeled the basement from a pit to a nice family/TV room.

2. I've added a full bath in the basement.

3. I've upgraded all the windows.

4. I'm planning on insulating and residing the house next year.

What I don't have in this house:

1. More than one bedroom.

2. A modern garage.

3. A real kitchen, I have to keep my refrigerator in another room.

4. Any privacy in the yard.

I had a thought about adding on and doing some landscaping that could take care of the short list of what I need but; I'm a 'find the easy way out' sort of guy. That easy way would be to buy another house. There are a few I've seen, one in my neighborhood, that would be nearly perfect. Unfortunately most of them need just as much work as my house did when I bought it. The others aren't for sale at the moment.

Not really but, WTF...

I just took an inventory of my silver coinage and figured that, at $13.00 an ounce, I have about $935 worth of silver laying about. Too bad I'm too cheap (or is it lazy?) to sell it on eBay.

Maybe, if it goes to $14 an ounce, I'll take it uptown and sell it to that guy I know. Pay some bills and whatnot.

You scored as Postmodernist. Postmodernism is the belief in complete open interpretation. You see the universe as a collection of information with varying ways of putting it together. There is no absolute truth for you. Meaning relies on context and even the language you use to describe things should be subject to analysis. Modernist 81% Postmodernist 81% Materialist 81% Existentialist 75% Cultural Creative 63% Idealist 50% Romanticist 38% Fundamentalist 31% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

How To Debunk 9-11 WTC Collapse Conspiracy Garbage in Three Easy Steps


1. Use common sense.
2. Don't believe everything you read on conspiracy websites.
3. See step 1.

Re: Molten Metal in the basements:
Why is it immediately assumed that it was molten steel, when it was more likely aluminum. Aluminum melts at a mere 660.37°C, which is why molten aluminum can commonly be found after fires of greater-than-average intensity. Each of the 236 exterior columns of the WTC towers had an aluminum cover 14 inches across. 236 columns x 14in x 1368ft x however thick is a lot of aluminum, no? Furthermore, the basements of the towers included shopping malls, equipment rooms, etc, plenty of aluminum to be found down there. Steel however melts at an amazing 1370°C +/- varying by grade. The thermal images recorded of the WTC site on Sept 16th do not show temperatures in excess of 747°C, nowhere near hot enough to be molten steel, but certainly hot enough to be molten aluminum.

USGS Thermal Imaging

Re: Fires not hot enough:
Steel doesn't have to melt into goop in order to weaken. Steel loses 30% of it's strength at a mere 400°C, and a full 50% at 600°C.



Two other properties of steel add to its unreliability under extreme temperature conditions:

1. Thermal expansion, which causes massive increases in stress on assembly connections, and

2. Creep, which will cause steel to gradually undergo plastic (inelastic) deformation and therefore loss of load-bearing capacity, well before yield points.

Combine the loss of load-bearing capacity of steel support components due to elevated temperatures with a structure already damaged by the plane impacts, and the towers were doomed. Before the impacts, the demand-capacity ratios of many components of these aging structures were ALREADY in excess of 1.0. The redistribution of load from temperature-weakened and impact-damaged columns to the remaining columns was enough to push these DCRs well into the failure region.

Re: Squibs:
The compression caused by the descending mass of the air contained in the structures is more than sufficient to create massive overpressure in individual floors. Pressure x Volume is a constant; if you halve the volume, you double the pressure. Cram twice as much air into one floor as was initially there and you will achieve a pressure of 2atm = 29.4psi = 14.7psi of overpressure. A mere 1psi of overpressure is sufficient to burst out windows. A few psi of overpressure will kill you. 14.7psi will easily cause jets of air and concrete dust from the collapse region to be forcibly ejected from burst windows, which is exactly what we saw. No need for explosives here.

Re: Collapse time:
A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. The inferior truss seat connections were the weak link in the towers construction. They were capable of supporting the dead and live loads they were initially rated for, of course, but not stories of building crashing down on them, with more weight added with each floor crushed, was not factored into those design loads. As for the allegedly "indestructible" core, without the lateral support of the floors connected to the perimeter columns, they were easily susceptible to buckling and shear forces applied by the grinding action of the falling mass. Exacerbating this was the fact that the WTC core was constructed without diagonal bracing for lateral strength as other structures are. Collapse times cited as being the same as free fall have no basis in reality and are consistently unsupported by analyses to support said claims, and are refuted by the observation of free debris falling much faster than the collapses progressed . A collapse time of between 12 and 16 seconds for each tower is supportable by observation of video footage, and is consistent with the expected resistance from a structure absent lateral bracing in the event of floor connections being severed.

Re: Energy deficit:
Jim Hoffman's famous paper on the expansion of the dust cloud and the apparent energy deficit with gravitational potential as the only energy source includes, by Hoffman's own admission, the uncertainty factor of the water in the concrete. Water expands to many times its original volume when vaporized, which will cause the dust cloud to expand in a pyroclastic manner as was observed. Hoffman assumes 1% water by weight for the concrete, however this varies by cement type, relative humidity on the day, efficiency of the air-conditioning, and more. An RH value for the concrete of little more than 2% would account for all of the supposed energy deficit on the expansion of the dust cloud. Again, no need for explosives here.

Re: Angular momentum of the caps:
Angular momentum is only preserved if the fulcrum provides sufficient resistance. The crushing and grinding action of the caps destroyed the integrity of the fulcrums below, negating that resistance and slowing the angular deflection velocity. The caps did continue to tilt, but much slower due to a progressively weakened fulcrum. The caps simultaneously lost their rigidity in equal amounts to the structure beneath as a natural part of the grinding process, further reducing the angular moment, until finally the caps were obscured by the dust clouds and unable to be observed before finally being completely disintegrated.

Re: Explosions from across the river (911eyewitness):
Nowhere else were these explosions recorded. Not in the Naudet film, over which the brothers retained creative control, and not in any other footage captured, whether private or from the MSM. Massive explosions able to be heard from across the Hudson would register quite clearly on the seismic records. They did not. It seems likely that the explosion sounds were added to the footage in post-production.

Re: Ejection of debris:
The towers were 1368ft and 1362ft tall for WTC1 and 2 respectively. Debris patterns and distribution were consistent with parabolic trajectory of debris falling from such an immense height and acted upon by the force of thousands of tons of building smashing into it and pushing it out. No need for explosives here.

Re: Symmetry of the collapses:
If the towers were completely solid, single objects, they would be expected to fall over sideways like a tree. They were not solid objects. Structures are, obviously, comprised of millions of individual components connected together. As these connections were severed by the mechanical action of the collapse, the only way they could act was as individual objects, falling under gravity. The components could not retain enough rigidity and provide enough resistance to the falling structure for it to act like a tree, nor to fall in any other way than symmetrically.

LibertyForum.org

Most people I've shown this to don't believe these numbers are really accurate. They are.

Let's put tax cuts in terms everyone can understand. Suppose that every day, ten men go out for dinner. The bill for all ten comes to $100. If they paid their bill the way we pay our taxes, it would go something like this:
The first four men - the poorest - would pay nothing;
The fifth would pay $1:
The sixth would pay $3;
The seventh $7;
The eighth $12;
The ninth $18.
The tenth man - the richest - would pay $59.

That's what they decided to do. The ten men ate dinner in the restaurant every day and seemed quite happy with the arrangement - until one day, the owner threw them a curve. "Since you are all such good customers," he said, "I'm going to reduce the cost of your daily meal by $20." So now dinner for the ten only cost $80. The group still wanted to pay their bill the way we pay our taxes. So the first four men were unaffected. They would still eat for free. But what about the other six - the paying customers?

How could they divvy up the $20 windfall so that everyone would get his "fair share?" The six men realized that $20 divided by six is $3.33. But if they subtracted that from everybody's share, then the fifth man and the sixth man would end up being *paid* to eat their meal. So the restaurant owner suggested that it would be fair to reduce each man's bill by roughly the same amount, and he proceeded to work out the amounts each should pay. And so the fifth man paid nothing, the sixth pitched in $2, the seventh paid $5, the eighth paid $9, the ninth paid $12, leaving the tenth man with a bill of $52 instead of his earlier $59. Each of the six was better off than before. And the first four continued to eat for free.

But once outside the restaurant, the men began to compare their savings. "I only got a dollar out of the $20," declared the sixth man. He pointed to the tenth. "But he got $7!" "Yeah, that's right," exclaimed the fifth man. "I only saved a dollar, too. It's unfair that he got seven times more than me!" "That's true!" shouted the seventh man. "Why should he get $7 back when I got only $2? The wealthy get all the breaks!" "Wait a minute," yelled the first four men in unison. "We didn't get anything at all. The system exploits the poor!" The nine men surrounded the tenth and beat him up. The next night he didn't show up for dinner, so the nine sat down and ate without him. But when it came time to pay the bill, they discovered something important. They were $52 short!

And that, boys and girls, journalists and college instructors, is how the tax system works.

The people who pay the highest taxes get the most benefit from a tax reduction. Tax them too much, attack them for being wealthy, and they just may not show up at the table anymore.

The data are quite interesting. The poorest half of Americans are paying even less of their share now then they did ten years ago, while the richest are paying more - and keep in mind, this data reflects money actually paid by people after all the tax breaks and deductions have been taken.

In order to love fully we must embrace the hate toward the very things and people that we love.

I got a phone call last night...

My cousin died, very unexpectedly and suddenly, Thursday morning. We were never really all that close. She was adopted and not all that stable mentally. I'm kind of at a crossroads here-

I don't feel... anything, really.

"Space is one cold motherfucker." - NASSA Blackstronaut

I recently had the opportunity to watch "The Self-destruction of the Ultimate Warrior" DVD and I have to tell you he was a goof. Cool, very cool, but a goof nonetheless. Check out his ramblings at UltimateWarrior.com

"There is no happiness without tears; no life without death.
Beware, I will give you cause to weep."

-Lucian Staniak

It seems like only yesterday that I was...


and now I'm all...


35 years down and a lifetime left to go.

I Cannot Believe

It's not what you say
it's what I feel
from the words that once
made me slip into
happiness that saved me once
betrayed me now
I cannot belive in anything
I cannot need anyone
I will not search through the ruins
for the fragments of a shattered heart

Strung to the thin line
between thruth and lie
love and hate, right and wrong
once crowned by love
then crucified
I cannot rise
I cannot believe in anything
I cannot need anyone
I will not search through the ruins
for the fragments of a shattered heart

And boundless is the sea
in this moment I have met
the soul walking on my path

In blindness and tranquility
the bitter potion slowly heals
I accept this seasons burning cold
it burns me still
I cannot believe in anything
I cannot need anyone
I will not search through the ruins
for the fragments of a shattered heart

Human Drama - Solemn Sun Setting
(Triple X 1999)

Not for me, for a frequent visitor to my little blog.

Go to your music player of choice and put it on shuffle.
Say the following questions aloud, and press play.
Use the song title as the answer to the question.
NO CHEATING.

How does the world see me? Trip at the Brain - Suicidal Tendencies
Will I have a happy life? Working Class - Kill or be Killed
What do my friends really think of me? Empire - Sedition
Do people secretly lust after me? Christmas Dreaming - Harry Connick Jr.
How can I make myself happy? Valkyrian - Midgard
What should I do with my life? We will never die - People Haters
Why must life be so full of pain? Kill it - Blue Eyed Devils
How can I maximize my pleasure during sex? Trapped Excuse - To the Grave
Will I ever have children? Memories of you - Frank Sinatra
Will I die happy? My time has yet to come - Blood for Blood
What is some good advice for me? Hello, I love you - The Doors
What is happiness? JustifiedBlackEye - Joey cape/Tony sly
What's my favorite fetish? Agoraphobia - Incubus
How will I be remembered? Turncoat - Anti Flag


I guess it means I'm not easily explainable or classifiable.

Need I say more?

I find this photo extremely interesting.

Title......Time......Artist
Hail the new dawn 3:20 Skrewdriver
My 1st Single 5:02 Eminem
Enemy 3:33 [Minus]
You Say Rock 2:43 20/20 Hindsight
Nothing With You 2:29 Descendents
When The Levee Breaks 5:55 A Perfect Circle
The Massive 2:10 A18
Stab You Through The Everything 2:30 A18
Back In Black 4:15 AC/DC
Now You're A Man (Orgasmo Theme) 2:12 DVDA
Rock Soldiers 5:09 Ace Frehley
Eighth-Grade Summer Romance 3:23 Action Action
Out On An Island 4:37 Cock Sparrer
Ghetto 3:55 Akon
Rooster 6:17 Alice In Chains
Forgotten Soldier 1:44 American Standard
The Middle 2:45 Jimmy Eat World
The Way Things Were 2:27 No Innocent Victim
Fuck You Slowly 2:16 Tenacious D
Tumble and Roll 3:08 Mindy McCready
Us Against The World 2:26 Bound For Glory
Empty Cartridge 2:12 Unsane
Ready To Die 2:55 Andrew W. K.
Bananaz 4:00 Akon
The Middle Finger 4:03 Christiansen
Breakfast At Tiffany's 4:16 Deep Blue Something
Thors Enkel 2:19 Annett
(Oh) Pretty Woman 2:53 Van Halen
Prayer For The Dying 6:05 Aryan
La La 3:44 Ashlee Simpson
Gravedigger 1:37 Attack
You Are Not My Friend 3:26 Frenzal Rhomb
Paint It Black 3:44 Rolling Stones
Ring of Fire 3:51 Suicidal Tendencies
Chipeland 3:53 Dying Breed
Fun and Happiness 1:17 Attack ...
You Don't Own Me 3:04 Juliana Hatfield
Michael Wittman 5:55 Ed
Therapy 3:05 Smile Empty Soul
Bound To Violence 2:23 Hatebreed
Blood Gulch Blues 2:24 Trocadero
And We Danced 3:17 Deena Carter
11. September 2:04 Race War
What's Left Of The Flag 3:38 Flogging Molly
Recluse 3:31 Unbroken
Sussudio 4:21 Phil Collins
Making Love Out of Nothing 5:41 Air Supply
Broken 4:19 Seether, Featuring Amy Lee
Outside The Boundaries Of A Friend 3:33 Shai Hulud
Born To Be Wild 3:19 Zodiac Mindwarp & The Love Reaction
March of War 6:29 Definition of Cruelty
I'm Like A Bird 4:10 Nelly Furtado
Panama 3:32 Van Halen
Every Dog Has Its Day 4:24 Flogging Molly
Closed Caskets 3:56 Remembering Never
Good Feeling 3:52 Violent Femmes
The Longest Time 2:28 Me First And The Gimme Gimmes
You Were Mine 3:37 Dixie Chicks
When The Bullet Hits The Bone 7:50 Golden Earring
Shame, Rights, & Privilege 1:30 Good Riddance
For The True & Passionate Lovers Of Music 3:39 Shai Hulud
Walk 5:05 Lunatic
Hair-Raising Accounts Of Restless Ghosts 5:34 Modern Life Is War
Guilty Of Being White 1:17 Minor Threat
Last Call 3:12 Whitewash
Fate Has Found Me 3:47 20/20 Hindsight
Avatar 3:14 Dresden
Davidian 4:56 Machinehead
Devil's Dance Floor 3:59 Flogging Molly
Any Way You Want It 2:28 Student Rick
Fucking Hostile 2:41 Nok
Bottom Of A Bottle 3:41 Smile Empty Soul
There's No "I" In Team 2:17 Good Riddance
Jump Around 3:40 House of Pain
A Profound Hatred Of Man 3:05 Shai Hulud
Survival 2:32 Attack
These Words (I Love You, I Love You) 3:38 Natasha Bedingfield
Bad Feelin' 2:04 Attention Deficit Disorder
Ass Like That 4:25 Eminem
Pon de Replay 4:11 Rihanna
Kiss Me 3:31 Sixpence None the Richer
Hip To Be Square 4:00 Huey Lewis & The News
Penguins & Polarbears 2:53 Millencolin
Institutionalized 3:48 Suicidal Tendencies
The Sky 4:38 Stevie Ray Vaughn
Arlington 4:07 Trace Adkins
Monologue 3 1:19 American Psycho
Jeremy 5:20 Pearl Jam
Fall To Pieces 3:28 Avril Lavigne
Paid In Full (Coldcut Remix) 7:10 Eric B & Rakim
Mony Mony 5:02 Billy Idol
Riders On The Storm 7:12 The Doors
Valkyrian 3:31 Midgard
Injustice System! 2:21 Sick Of It All
I've Lost... 1:43 Judge
St. Jimmy 2:55 Green Day
United 2:44 Skrewdriver
Wrap Your Troubles In Dreams 2:57 Bing Crosby
Left To My Own Devices 4:48 Pet Shop Boys
Hymn To The Black Sun 5:30 Laibach
Call of the Blood 5:14 Dresden
Iron Man 5:58 Black Sabbath
Ghosts In The Mirror 3:14 Call Me Lightning
Ain't Like You (Wasted Youth) 3:29 Blood For Blood
I'm An Old Cowhand (From The Rio Grande) 4:59 Harry Connick, Jr
Breakin' It 3:20 Mindy McCready
Come Clean (Remix 2005) 3:44 Hilary Duff
Redemption 9:29 Blood For Blood
Behind These Hazel Eyes 3:19 Kelly Clarkson
Everybodies Girl 2:42 The Dwarves
Betrayed 2:38 H8Machine
Some Kind Of Hate 3:18 Blood For Blood
Keasbey Nights 3:02 Catch 22
Somebody Told Me 3:17 The Killers
She's A Rebel 2:00 Green Day
Edmund Fitzgerald 6:14 Gordon Lightfoot
The Gods Are Good To Me 3:03 Down Right Hateful
Megalomaniac 4:54 Incubus
The Truth 3:56 Good Charlotte
Intro 0:49 Blue Eyed Devils
Nobody Like You To Me 3:43 Harry Connick, Jr.
Kill Yourself 1:37 Blue Eyed Devils
Bodies 3:24 Drowning Pool
What Drives Me 2:49 Blue Eyed Devils
Half Minute Hero 2:06 Combat Ready
Heresy, Hypocrisy, & Revenge 2:21 Good Riddance
The Last Day Of Summer 5:04 Brutal Attack
Two Guns 0:04 Doc Holliday
Ain't Talkin' 'Bout Love 3:48 Van Halen
American Psycho 3:24 Treble Charger
Ole 3:46 Paul Burnley
Wet My Bed 1:36 Stone Temple Pilots
Subliminal 3:06 Suicidal Tendencies
Snickers 2:26 Skarhead
My Next Thirty Years 3:39 Tim Mcgraw
21st Century Patriot 2:10 Stand Accused
Better Off Crazy 2:04 Skrewdriver
My Heart Bleeds The Darkest Blood 2:05 Shai Hulud
Tainted Love 2:33 Softcell
Hail Budapest 3:13 Stonehammer
The Angels Of Dunblane 4:08 Brutal Attack
Suffer 5:12 By Any Means Necessary
Antisocial 1:59 Skrewdriver
Rebels Of The Sacred Heart 5:12 Flogging Molly
Fuck It 2:54 Pro Pain
Sick 3:06 Seven Wiser
Pocket Full of Shells 3:51 Rage against the machine
Click Click Boom 4:12 Saliva
Living Life One Mistake At A Time 1:43 The Reform
Easy-peasy 0:07 Angry Beavers

Hatred is something peculiar. You will always find it strongest and most violent where there is the lowest degree of culture.

-Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I have seen great intolerance shown in support of tolerance..

-Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"The dumber people think you are, the more surprised they're going to be when you kill them."
-William Clayton

Some of you may notice the new "About Me" layout over that way >>>>>

Don't get used to it, it'll probably be changing sooner or later.

Later.

Ace

I'm definitely leaning toward getting this tattoo as soon as I get the time off work. Probably around Thanksgiving time, I'll be heading out to Phoenix for the week and it'd have a chance to heal up in the dry air.

Now the only question is where to place it...

From the standpoint of pure reason, there are no good grounds to support the claim that one should sacrifice one's own happiness to that of others.
~ W. Somerset Maugham


This is one of those short and to the point posts.

I was doing a google search for... something, and stumbled on this awesome site - Squirreljunkie.com. The tagline for the site is "Ignorant Art on a Sticky Note" I really like most of the stuff they've done. This is one of my favorites:



I need more unique artworks in my house, think I'll check into buying it.

And here we have the relevant copyright info from squirreljunkie.com:
Downloading or otherwise transmitting electronic copies of these works, or portions thereof, and/or printing or duplicating hard copies of these works, or portions thereof, is authorized for individual use only.

When I was a puppy I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You called me your child and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?" - but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub.

My housetraining took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed, listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs," you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day.

Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love.

She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" - still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I might hurt them, and I spent most of my time banished to another room, or to a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of love."

As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch - because your touch was now so infrequent - and I would have defended them with my life if need be.

I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams. Together we waited for the sound of your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf.

Now you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family.

I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog or cat, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all life. You gave me a goodbye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too.

After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?"

They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you - that you had changed your mind - that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited.

I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table, rubbed my ears and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood.

She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?"

Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself - a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. With my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" was not meant for her. It was you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of. I will think of you and wait for you forever.

May everyone in your life continue to show you so much loyalty.

The End

Copyright Jim Willis 2001, all rights reserved.

...

I did not write this, I wish I did but... Anyway I'm not charging you to read it and I hope you enjoy it in the way it was intended. Please check out other stuff written by Jim Willis and when you buy something of his tell him you saw it here first.

WOLLENSKY HASH BROWNS

Chef Tommy Elbashary of Smith & Wollensky

Serves 2
Preparation Time: 15 minutes

Ingredients:
4 small Idaho potatoes, boiled and refrigerated overnight
1 small green pepper
1 small onion
4 tablespoons clarified butter
1 teaspoon All-purpose seasoning
Salt & pepper to taste

Preparation: Peel and dice the potatoes, set aside. Chop the green pepper and onion, sauté in the butter until translucent. Add potatoes. Cook at high heat without stirring until a golden-brown crust forms on the bottom. Flip and brown the other side. Serve.

These go great with a nice medium-rare filet mignon.

"I am not driven by hatred.
I am not driven by fear.
I am not driven by desire,
duty, or any rationale.
I can no longer feel any of these.
All that remains is Retribution;
Cold and hard and final."
-Anonymous

She never expected it from me.

Drakken?
Maybe.

Shego?
Definitely.

But me?
No, never.

Stupid girl.

She never understood.
What she did to me.
How she broke my heart.
My spirit.

Will she wake up?
Doubtful.

Not a lot of air in that box.

One shovel of dirt.

The sound, the thud.

Would that be the last sound she ever heard?

More dirt, slowly filling the hole.

I hear it.
The sound.

The sound of fists.
Pounding, clawing, desperate.
Trying to get free.

Now the screams come.

Does she even know who did this?

Would it make a difference?
Not to me.

She should just relax.

Accept the inevitable.

Slow death.

The death I've been living.
Everyday.
Everyday dead.

Dead to anything.

Anything special.

Anything like love.

Hero No More

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not for her, not for Kim 'she can do anything' Possible.

She could remember the day it happened, just sitting in Bueno Nacho with him. Two friends inseparable since their days in pre-K. They had finally managed to put the last of the 'Big 5' villains away. That called for a celebration, Ron style. "Two Grande sized Chimerito combos for the conquering heroes."

Call it fate or dumb luck or in his words 'dumb skill.'

She looked in his eyes and saw something she hadn't noticed before, love. Not just love for a best friend, well actually it was but it was also more than that. She could see her future with him. A future filled with hopes and dreams, and children playing. Their children...

It wasn't long after that night that she popped the question. "Will you marry me?" He had always been the nervous one, so it was better that she ask him. He would probably still be searching for the words to ask her.

"Yes." His simple one word answer.

The wedding, her dream wedding, followed soon after. There was no need to delay, no 'get to know you' period, not for two people that had been with each other for so many years. She was a beautiful bride, and he was a handsome groom. The vows they exchanged were simple, and each concluded with the same phrase. "I love you. I will always love you, and you alone."

Then there was, the accident. There was nothing she could do to stop it, nothing she could do to change what happened. The single most important person in life snatched away on the first day of the rest of their lives. Why did Fate play a hoax so cruel? She was supposed to be happy - forever - together with him.

She seldom left home anymore, if she did she never went too far. Not that it mattered, there was nothing out there to see. Only the memories of their brief time together were important. Her hair was worn at the same familiar length. As a reminder of the way things were when she was with him. Even being in the park at this spot today was a reminder of what was supposed to have been. On top of the hill where they would come at night and look up at the stars. She could still hear his voice.

"I love you. I will always love you, and you alone."

Still feel the gentle press of his lips on her cheek, the warm touch of his hand on the bare skin of her shoulder.

"The food is almost ready." The voice was her father calling the family to lunch.

His touch faded.

"Come on Kim, your family is waiting for us."

She would cry if only she could.

Strong hands guided her gently down the hill to the picnic area. Before the accident, she was Kim Possible, she could do anything. Now she was helpless without him. "Ron."

"I'm here Kim. I'm not going to leave you…ever." Why did he feel the need to say the words? Love. He loved her. Nothing was going to change that.

That they had told him she couldn't hear him, that they said she was little more than an empty shell, it didn't matter. He held on to the belief that Kim, his Kim, was still in there…somewhere.

THE END

This is a story that I started writing about a year ago and haven't quite finished yet. I kind of lost interest in writing and have been working too much lately. Please note that this is one of those things I warned you about up at the top. What? You didn't read that? Go back and try again.

AN: This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, incidents, and dialogue, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are imaginary and are not intended to refer to any living persons or to disparage any company's products or services.

Ron Millionaire: Everyone Has a Price
Ned has just handed me an envelope, “From the boys in corporate.” The envelope has a subheading: Naco Royalties Check. I reminisce a bit over my creation, the Naco. What a wondrous day in history. Kim says something derisive, but I ignore her.

Bonnie, who has been harassing me from behind, grows impatient at my dawdling. “Can I order now, please?”

“Un momento, por favor.” Kim says, although I’m not really listening to her. “Open the envelope Ron; maybe the check's big enough for you to Grande Size.”

I rip open the edge of the envelope, not knowing what to expect. The last check I received was barely enough to buy that Club Banana jacket for Kim. Which, although she loved, she immediately exchanged. I slide the check out and feel faint, my head is swimming. My mouth dries, I begin to stammer. I try to speak, but am unable to. “It's for nuh-nuh-nuh... Nine…”

The simultaneous shouts of Kim and Bonnie break my stupor. “Ninety-nine million dollars!”

Bonnie immediately latches onto me, pressing her hot body tightly to my back, running a hand through my hair. “Ron Stoppable, you are such a hottie.” She says, dropping her free hand from my shoulder into my front pants-pocket.

“Are you saying that because I'm rich?” I ask after a beat.

“Uh huh.” She pants into my ear, licking it lightly, as her fingers dig deeper into my pocket.

A money grubbing whore, that is just so, “Cool!”

Sadly, she removes herself from me, “Call me later, after you cash that check Ronnie.” She leans into my shoulder, pressing her breasts against me, kissing my cheek before she walks out.

I think Kim is saying something, but it is incomprehensible to me. I’m lost in thought. About Bonnie. About the money. Every fantasy, a reality. Every possibility a reality. Reality.

The bleak reality that is my life. I find myself sitting in a booth. It’s not even a good one, being that it is too far from the counter. Kim asks me, or tells me. “You know money can’t buy happiness, right?”

Happiness, Ninety-nine million. Satisfaction, Ninety-nine million. Bonnie, Ninety-nine million. Kim, Ninety-nine million. Tara, Ninety-nine million. Sex, Ninety-nine million. Bonnie, Ninety-nine million. Sex with Bonnie, Ninety-nine million dollars.

I wave the check, which is by now rather crumpled, in her face. “Are you sure KP?” A question that I don’t expect her to actually answer, and she doesn’t. She just gives me that look. The same look as when I had that stylish haircut. When I was using the HenchCo ring.

An empty plate sits on the table before me. I may have eaten my entire entrée, without even knowing it. Or perhaps Rufus did. I’m not certain.

Kim has the most beautifully deep emerald-green eyes I have ever seen. Why I am just now noticing that, I’m not sure. She raises an eyebrow and is about to speak.

“Oh, okay, I get it.” I say, cutting her off. “You think this is gonna be one of those times when I suddenly turn into some out-of-control guy and go way overboard with the whole money thing.”

She pauses, carefully answers, “Well, yeah.”

I hear myself saying that the money will not change me. I even find myself wanting to believe it. I stand up and excuse myself, “I need to go.” I head out of Bueno Nacho and begin to walk uptown. Hopefully I can get to the bank before it closes. I do.

A Mr. Joshua Mallon, God I hate him so. Like I don’t have enough people named Josh to deal with. Is more than eager to assist me in managing my new found fortune. He suggests a money market account, for easier access. I insist on putting a million or so into a more readily available source. Cash.

Cash is, as I have noticed, a most persuasive argument. Accepted everywhere and easy to carry. I step from the bank lobby and hail a passing cab. I climb in and tell the driver, who appears to be Puerto Rican, “Upperton.”

The cab makes several stops. I have him wait while I shop. A new wardrobe, nothing but the finest. Some hangers on, several bodyguard types and a few personal assistants. As well as an apartment, furnished of course.

I don’t give the building manager my real name, not that it would matter. I’m only 17. I can’t sign a binding lease. “Call me Mr. Franklin.” I say, handing him $250,000. Two years rent, plus a bonus for himself.

My immediate business dealings finished, I have the cabbie drive me home. I stiff him on the tip. Not like I’ll ever see him again anyway.

School

"Yoo-hoo, hotness." It's Bonnie, running up the hallway of school with a playful look in her eyes. She tries latching on to me.

Big Nick pushes her away. "Hands off The Ron."

I tip my sunglasses, looking first to him and then to Bonnie. "It's ok dude, she's in the circle."

Bonnie rushes back to me, tracing my chin with her hand flirtatiously. "Remember how I've been mean and abusive to you since, like, junior high? Well, you know, I was playing hard to get right?"

I put my arm around her, brushing my hand against her right breast before letting it grip her around the waist. "Baby - The Ron knew, the Ron knew."

A hand reaches out and grabs onto me, pulling me away from Bonnie. "Ron, what are you doing?" It's KP. "Handing out money to everyone who walks by?"

I don't have time for her right now, maybe later. "Oh, sorry Kim." I tuck a few bills into her hand and tell her, "Here, get yourself something nice."

I walk back over to Bonnie, putting my arm around her again, "Let's ditch this place, just you and The Ron."

"Whatever you say, The Ron." She pulls herself closer to me and gives Kim a glance that says, 'he's mine now.'

Oh, how little she knows.

I have my driver drop the rest of my posse off at a club. After they are out of the limo I tell him to take us to the apartment I rented last night in Upperton.

The Apartment

I sit back into my chair as Bonnie stands in front of me. She is wearing a red halter top and black faux leather mini. She looks, great. I lift the remote off the arm of the chair and use it to turn on the several video cameras and televisions that I have setup around the room. Some of the monitors show Bonnie from various angles, two others show me. One a slightly off-center frontal shot, low across the floor. The other a view from behind and slightly above.

I peel a dozen or so bills off the stack of hundreds in my hand. "I want you to." I pause, motioning for her to lean forward, as I quarter fold them and stuff them into her cleavage. "Take off your top."

She pulls the bills out from between her substantial, and obviously fake, breasts. "I don't know about this Ron." I glare at her, she hesitates, adding apologetically. "The Ron."

I pull a few more bills off the stack, handing them to her. "The top."

She tucks the money into the waistband of her skirt. Her hands move up, arms crossed under each other, to grasp the lower edge of her top. She closes her eyes and begins to pull the garment up and off. Slowly.

"Nice." I say, genuinely, impressed at just how easy this seems to be.

After she throws the shirt off to one side she reaches around behind her to take off her bra. It is a leopard print, silk or perhaps satin.

"No." I say forcefully. "Leave it on."

She stands in front of me, half undressed, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She is nervous, probably wondering just how far I want to go with this.

I stare at her, taking in the gentle curvature of her breasts. Her nipples hardening in the cool air of the room, straining against the sheer fabric of her bra. I allow her to ponder her fate for nearly a minute before I speak. "The skirt." She stands, her arms crossed just under her chest. She must want some more money. I remove a few more bills from the stack, probably not as many as it took to get her to remove her top. I hold them out for her, she reaches for them. I pull them away playfully. I giggle, she frowns. I relent and hand her the cash. Smiling. "The skirt." I repeat.

She tucks the new money in alongside the money I gave her to take off her top. She slowly, very slowly, begins to pull the skirt down off her hips. I lean forward in my chair for a better view. She stops. Then starts again. The skirt falls to the ground at her feet. She steps one foot out of it and kicks it aside with the other. No visible tan lines as of yet.

"Very nice." I say. Leaning back into my seat.

She definitely has a hard body. All those years of ballet and cheerleading did it good. I want to see more of it. "Why don't you, pirouette or something." I ask her. I tell her.

She kicks off her shoes and shifts her weight.

"Slowly." I add.

She stops and begins to turn on her right foot, arms stretched out above her head. She has nice lines, almost as good as KP's. Or so I imagine. I notice something… amiss. "Stop!"

I reach out and pull her to me, turning her to get a better look. I was right. She has a mole. On her left buttock. I pick at it a bit with my fingernail. At least it isn't hairy. "Interesting mole you've got here Bon Bon." I spank her lightly.

I explore with a youthful abandon, tracing my fingers along her spine. I begin to run my hands over her body. Up and down the insides of her thighs. Using both hands I squeeze her ass firmly. Good musculature. Under the lacy fabric of her panties. She shivers slightly, and mewls like a kitten, as my hand moves around to the front. "Hmm." I hum, almost questioningly. She's a hairless.

I toss the rest of the stack of hundreds on the floor in front of her. "Get on all fours." She drops down to her knees and then leans forward onto her hands.

I stand up, remote in hand, and begin to get undressed. After I have my shirt off I check the video cameras. I step behind her, wearing only my boxers, and drop to one knee, grasping at the slight fabric of her undergarments.

Bonnie is definitely going to earn her money tonight.

Oh, What A Night

Bonnie is in front of me on her hands and knees. I take a firmer hold onto the waistband of her panties and begin to remove them. First off the right cheek, then the left. She must have a tanning bed at home. Or maybe she lays out in the nude. She has no tan lines at all. Very sexy. I rip the delicate fabric and throw the panties, which are now no more than just a rag, away.

I begin to work on removing her bra. Momentarily ignoring her, now naked, lower half. I'll never understand why they make the clasps so difficult to operate. It turns out to be an up and to the right motion that releases the strap. I refasten and unfasten it several times, practicing. I release the clasp for a final time and toss the bra off to one side.

Her ample breasts now hang freely. Nipples pointing, slightly offset, toward the floor. "Why are your nipples like that? Did they botch your implants?" I ask.

"No." She says, sounding annoyed. "They've always been like that."

"Always?" I am confused. I reach out and attempt to straighten them. I fail.

"Since they got," she hesitates, "…bigger, yes."

"Strange." I move around her, kneeling, almost sitting on my heels, directly in front of her. I continue to play with her breasts, feeling for any irregularities. I begin to swat at them, bouncing them back and forth between my hands. I lose myself in the fleshy rhythm.

I feel a strange sensation. Bonnie's hand. Slid into the fly of my boxers. Grabbing my package. I slap it away. "Never. Touch me. Unless I tell you to. Do you understand?"

She looks away, ashamed, saying nothing.

I slap her face. "Do you understand?"

"Yes." She answers, pitifully.

I slap her face again, harder. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, The Ron." She whimpers, her eyes red with tears.

"Sit back on your heels."

She complies, "Yes, The Ron."

I stand up and begin to walk around her, slowly. I trace my finger behind her ear, gently. Her lower lip trembles. I notice it. I squat down behind her. I whisper into her ear. "Does that feel good?" I trace my finger over the same spot. "Me doing this?"

Her lip trembles again, her voice wavers as she answers. "Yes, The Ron."

"Are you a virgin Bonnie?" I ask suddenly.

She hesitates before finally answering. "…No, The Ron." It begins to annoy me, her slowness. I stand. Seriously considering slapping her again. I don't.

"Good." I smile, deviously. "Get on your knees, so I can see your ass."

She doesn't.

I put my heel into the small of her back, "I said," and push her down onto the floor, "Get on your knees."

She snivels a bit, as she pushes herself up onto her hands and knees.

"This would be easier," I tell her, soothingly, stroking her face. "If you would just do what you're told."

She sobs a little, like that's going to matter to me. "Sorry, The Ron." Her voice remains low, broken. But I hear her.

"Shhh. It's okay." I stand up, "I don't want to hurt you…" and head for the bathroom. I open the medicine cabinet. Retrieving a bottle of Club Banana Exclusive: Strawberry Sensation lotion, a few vinyl surgical gloves, and a box of latex condoms.

I pull the gloves on, first the right and then the left. I toss the box of condoms onto the floor next to Bonnie. Not that I'm planning on using any.

"Pleasure yourself. While I watch." I order her. Pulling my chair closer, for a better view. I sit down. She begins. Masturbating first with one finger, then two. I reach out and move a camera, not the one I moved earlier, closer. Zooming it in for a close-up of her fingers in motion.

After a minute, or two, perhaps even three, I am sufficiently aroused. I'm raging. Hell, I could probably drive nails with it. Mentally, I put that on my things to do to Bonnie list.

I slide out of my chair and kneel behind her. I am solid, trembling. Filled with anticipation.
I remove the lid from the bottle of lotion. The terrifying thought that ‘I should have gotten something else' cascades through my mind. This will have to do.

I begin to pour the thick creamy lotion onto the small of her back. A ready reservoir.
She begins to shiver, her entire body quivering. One of my fingers joins the two of hers. She's having another orgasm. This makes three so far. The contractions, they are an interesting sensation.

I pull my finger out, using her juices to draw a capital letter 'R' on her ass. A stylized branding of my property. She belongs to me now.

I own her.

Out of breath she slumps down, resting her head on the carpeted floor. The lotion is slowly running up her back, the wrong direction for what I have in mind. I grab a handful of her long brown hair and jerk back on it. Pulling her upper body up off the floor.

She screams. "Stop it Ron!" She cries. "That hurts!" Seething, struggling.

I pull back, harder, violently. Bringing her head to mine, her chin pointing straight up to the ceiling. "What the fuck did you say!" I spit the words into her ear. Before pushing her, quite forcefully, back to the floor. Her head... her face, makes an interesting ka-poonk noise as it bounces off the carpet. "I own you bitch…"

It Gets Worse

I roll Bonnie over onto her back. Spreading her legs. She struggles against me, unwilling to give herself to me.

…

The Ron balled his hand into a fist and landed a crushing blow against her cheek. "Stupid bitch!" Blood oozed from her now split lip.

He placed a hand on her throat, just under the jawbone. Leaning forward applying steady pressure. Choking her. She slapped him. Once. Twice. Forcefully.

Ineffectually.

She tried a third time. He blocked her hand. Seizing her fingers, mashing them together. She screamed as he twisted and broke at least one of her fingers.

"You dirty fucking whore!" The Ron forced himself into her. He was not kind, not loving, not caring. He was brutal.

…

Bonnie is everything I hoped… Everything I knew she would be.

She spasms and gurgles, coughing up blobs of bloody saliva. Her eyes roll back into their sockets. This is going too far…

…

The Ron removed his hand from her throat and adjusted his grip on her. Taking her wrists he pinned them against the floor at her shoulders.

Color began to return to her face. The blue of her lips slowly replaced by a more natural red.

He pulled back and almost out before her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. Hips lifting off the floor, humping her body against his.

"That's my good girl." The Ron spoke.

…

We establish a rhythm, moving together as one. Until we reach climax.

…

The Ron collapsed onto her, still inside, his head resting next to hers. She licked his neck, his ear. His mouth moved, as if too speak, but no words came out. He lifted his hand to her breast. Caressing it, rolling the nipple between his fingertips.

She whispered. "I... love you... The Ron."

"Me or my money?" The Ron asked, roughly pinching her nipple.

She squealed, in a mix of pleasure and pain. Her eyes began a frantic search for his, finally they locked. Wanting to communicate… something.

Pleading?

Desire?

Love?

What?

…

Confusion.

…

I smile, weakly, and roll Bonnie over. Pulling her onto her hands and knees.

There is still a small amount of lotion on her back.

Good.

I dab a gloved finger in and begin to trace my way down her cleft. Stopping short of my final destination.

…

Her battered body shuddered at the realization of what The Ron wanted.

What he paid for.

…

The Ron swirled his index finger around her ring, before letting it settle in the center. "Take it." he commanded.

"Yes." She answered, her breath still coming in short gasps. "The Ron."

She began slowly grinding back. Taking him into her.

She moaned, "It feels so good. So dirty. But, so good."

Her breath juddered out in hitching gasps as The Ron slid his finger further in. Smiling broadly, he gently pushed it deeper. "At least one part of you is still virgin."

"Yes, The Ron." She slowly moved her hips back, further onto his extended finger.

Reaching for the open bottle of lotion, squeezing some more of it onto her ass, The Ron positioned himself behind her. Slathering some of the thick creamy lotion over his erection.

"Go slow." She begged, her voice weak. "Please."

"I will." The Ron said, sounding quite sincere, but obviously lying.

Her body tensed as he pressed his tip against her.

"Relax." The Ron said, calmly. She did. "That's better."

He moved quickly, taking her remaining dignity in one agonizingly painful thrust. She screamed and struggled to free herself from his violation.

"That's my good girl." The Ron said mockingly, moving his hands over her hips, her back, gripping the backs of her upper arms. He pulled back and thrust again. Punching into her. Deep. Brutal. Again. Again. Faster. Faster. Faster!

"Whose bitch are you!" The Ron shouted, pounding her harder and harder.

"Yo-Oh-oh-huh-Shhh!" She was babbling… Incoherent.

"Whose bitch are you!" The Ron was yelling now, his sweat dripping down onto her back, his hips pushing into her, into her, pushing her face along the floor.

She was making mewling noises now, no longer trying to pull away, beaten, broken, resigned to being used by him. Abused by him.

…

I know that I'm gone, so far gone.

I want to make Bonnie bleed, just to see if I can…

…

I can… I do.

…

"Beautiful." I speak with a voice not my own.

…

The Ron orgasmed, collapsing on top of her. Nibbling at her neck, her ear, telling her how much it meant to him.

How special she was…

That…he…loved…her.

She whimpered that she loved him too.

The Ron slid his hand between her legs. Massaging her sensitive nub between his finger and thumb. "You belong to me. I can do whatever I want to you... whenever I want. Can't I?"

"Yes." She whimpered, her voice trembling.

"Yes, what?" The Ron persisted, giving it a rough squeeze.

"Yes, The Ron." She squealed.

…

I turn her to face me. Bonnie is sitting sidelong on her legs. I pull her bloody, tear-streaked face to mine - and gently kiss her bruised, swollen cheek. Moving my tongue around behind her ear. I nibble at her earlobe. Bonnie is kissing my neck.

I trail soft kisses down to her breasts.

Suckling.

Salty sweet.

Licking.

Nibbling.

Delirious.

Chewing.

Biting.

Babbling.

Choking.

Fade.

To.

Black.

…
The macabre shadows of night give way to the bright pastels of morning as I open my eyes.

I see Bonnie stumble past me…

Fully dressed. Wads of cash in her hands. Arms clenched across her stomach. Blood trailing in thin lines down the insides of her thighs.

…

Lying on the floor. The Ron smiled.

"She'll be back."


That Morning
I am supposed to meet Kim this morning for late breakfast. Although I'm more in the mood for lunch. 'Bueno Nacho at nine' she said. It's ten after, I'm late.

I see her sitting in a booth. Our booth. A good one, located next to a window and near the counter.

She is so reliable, so predictable. I calm myself. Everything is going to be all right. I slide into the seat across from her. "Morning, KP. Sorry I'm late."

She doesn't return my pleasant greeting. "You totally skipped school yesterday. Didn't you?"

"Yes I did." I notice Tara Mathews and her brother - stepbrother actually - Andy are in a booth across the lobby from us. Tara is just about perfect looking -- long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, a tight yet very flexible body. She also has an enthusiastic zest for life. A willingness to try just about anything once.

"I had things to do." I catch a glimpse down Tara's blouse as she's leaning over to pick up a dropped napkin. Very nice. Looking back at Kim, I add, "I was busy."

"Doing?" She asks, her voice has a strange suspicious tone in it.

Bonnie. "I… was…busy." Purposefully drawn out. A subtle warning for her not to ask again.

She gives me another of her 'looks'. But smiles, stands up. "Let's order."

We walk together to the counter. Kim orders first. "A Vegetarian Skillet Scrambler and a Diet Coke."

"You should really get a Diet Pepsi instead Kim. It's much better."

"Really?" Kim asks. "What do you mean?"

"It's lighter, crisper… fizzier. Better."

"Fine. I'll have a Diet Pepsi."

I order. "Two Nacos, a Tacadia, and a Diet Pepsi."

The girl behind the counter informs me. "Sorry, we're still on breakfast."

I ignore her and restate my order. "I want 2 Nacos, a Tacadia, and a Diet Pepsi."

"I'll get the manager."

"Is there a problem?" It's Ned, the assistant manager.

"The Ron wants to order… 2 Nacos, a Tacadia, and a Diet Pepsi."

"I'll handle this Stacy." He dismisses her. Finally, someone that grasps the concept of - the customer is always right. He reviews our order. "Let's see, you've got a veggie Skillet Scrambler, 2 Nacos, a Tacadia, and 2 Diet Pepsis." I nod affirmatively. "No problem. Go ahead and have a seat." He points his hand toward our booth. "I'll bring it out to you as soon as it's ready."

…

The Ron wants you to see how 'Everybody Else' lives as much as you can. Learn how good you have it and to appreciate what you don't have to deal with, and just how well off you really are. Fuck sitting around whining and neurotically analyzing yourself all the time, and get used to the fact that more often than not, people are petty and trained to look for flaws, not redeeming features, and that mentality has obviously influenced you and hence your own distorted views of yourself.

…

"…it's pronounced Ar-ma-nee, Kim, not Ar-man-ee," I pause, taking a drink, "and secondly --"

"Excuse me. Here you go…" Ned arrives with our food. "Veggie Skillet Scrambler for Kim. 2 Nacos and a Tacadia for you, Ron. Enjoy." My order has been Grande sized, compliments of the house. Two full bottles of Diablo sauce, red and green, are also on the tray.

"Thank you." Kim says.

"If there's anything else you need…refills on your drinks…anything. Just let me know." Ned is obviously hoping for a tip of some sort; though accepting tips is expressly forbidden, by rule, in the Bueno Nacho Employee Handbook.

"We will…Thank you." I wave him off, picking up the bottle of red Diablo sauce while beginning to unwrap one of my Nacos. "Now Kim, as I was saying…"

…

The Ron can't really blame you - you and The Ron both were brought up in a society devoid of real community, where faith and real friendships count for nothing and social and material status is everything, no matter how it was earned. It's no surprise that you turned on the path that you did - a lot of people are even worse than you, although you're bad enough as it is. You probably have no comprehension of what The Ron is saying, and you're probably going to laugh, but The Ron is telling you anyway, in the hope that a part of you will get it on some level.

…

She's cute as a button. A pink cotton sundress, small embroidered flowers on the bodice. White tennis shoes, with pink stars on the sides. Ashley Mathews -- Tara's little sister. Skipping down the sidewalk, heading home.

I have my driver slow the limo as we approach her. Opening my window, I lean forward in my seat and call out to her. "Ashley." I repeat. "Ashley."

She stops, turns, smiles. A schoolgirl smile. "Hi, Ron."

I return her smile with one of my own. "I was just on my way…" Pausing, I clear my throat. "Do you want a ride home?"

"Mommy says I'm not supposed to." She shrugs, looking up to me.

"I won't tell her if you don't." I motion for her to come closer. Just a little… closer. "It'll be our little secret."

"I'm not supposed to." She takes a half step back.

I open the door, just a crack, and, in the friendliest voice I can muster, tell her. "We can get ice cream."

"Ice cream?" A warm glow of expectation and happiness lights up her face.

…young…

"All you want." I smile, nodding, slowly opening the door.

"Promise?" There is an undeniable eagerness in her voice… a twinkle in her blue eyes.

…innocent…

I hold the door open. "Promise."

"Okay."

…alone…