A.G.E's Joint

You have to see it to believe it   Nuveau Riche is the best Riche

  A week at the beach Girls lined up along the pier To get thrown into the air It's all on video For everyone to see And make bets on whether Tops stay up This one is cute That one isn't. That one is too old This one is too young An artificial rush Maybe we should find a real one.

Nightmare fuel.

Somthing completely difference. 

 Buzzwords Lifting the targets  For the AI bots to consume He's for the mask She's against the vaccine Stirring it up In three word sound bites Magically designed  To make us salivate Like Pavlov's dog.

 Standing in the back The homely girl was good Voice of the angels While the cute girl in front Can't keep key. In a better world The angel wins.

 Sweden Land of the Midnight Sun Where long summer days Lead to little sleep And trolling  For the lonely

 I see the lines The stats Some lonely guy Trolling along the site. Welcome. I'm glad you're here.  Tweet me along  Others want the share.

  Zealotry hates beauty Desert harsh is its abode Black, brown and gray Are all they know. Reds and greens Scare them Long hair and sweet scents Enrage them Hard and unyielding Is their only way. And they believe All that should exist.

 Marty Mammon, Senior Demon Director of Compliance for Devil's Quill, is in his office in a nondescript building outside Arlington, VA. "Rrrngg." "It's a great day in Hell. Marty Mammon, here. How may I inconvenience you?" "Oh hey, Dick. How are things? Really? Maker is ramping up his orders? I can't say I'm surprised. But, mark my words, He'll change his mind once the Moaning Karens get loud enough. I've seen the cycle too many times." Yes, I did start the new Scarcity Script. Early indications are good. Gas tanks are going dry all up the East Coast. No. It isn't related to Zuck's Covid one from last year. We had a demon called Afreet write it. What's an Afreet? You remember the Aladdin story, right? One of those. He owed us wishes. No, no threats. He was more than happy to run up some evil magic. I've never understood what Afreets had against mortals. That grudge is from before my time and never wr

  A Walk at the Farm Enjoy

The wind ruffled his hair as he picked up speed. He wondered what she would think of it. The bat winged Buick Convertible turned heads. It had been his dream to own one since he saw the Go Go’s video. The only difference was his was white rather than red. It was the ultimate midlife crisis car. And he certainly was in one. All his life, he had gone by the mantra “I can’t fix that”. It was an attitude that allowed him to miss more than one female train wreck. Chipmunk Face was different. It was something he could never explain. Both vulnerable and confident at the same time. She claimed she was 19. He knew better and never crossed the line. The phone chirped. Another text from her. Daddy was drunk. Could she crash at his place? It had happened before. He replied I’ll pick you up in a few minutes. A hole opened up in the lane to the right and he exited toward the park.  The bio-units were not deserving of the title parents. On the surface, it was a typical upper middle-class family, nice

  As I got out of the car, Williams spun me around. “Jim Holden, you’re under arrest for the murder of Donna Bartlett.” The whole charade with the girl had been to draw me to a safe place to do the arrest. I didn’t feel the click of the cuffs as they went around my wrists. The Miranda speech was just so much buzz. The cruiser smelled like the last drunk they brought in. These would be the  memories of tomorrow . That was five years ago. It was supposed to have been simple. Jerry Herrington was in a bind with The Sunset and needed it to disappear. It wasn’t a problem. The Texas LLC had been set up years before and the registration fees were up to date. The phony bill of sale and a fake destination were the easy parts. I’ve never met a marina manager who ever looked at paperwork. All they care about is having an open slip to fill at higher rent. The dealer in Florida didn’t ask questions and had the dock space to keep it out of sight. Herrington got spooked after the body turned up and t

  I bring the binoculars up to my eyes, not sure what I was looking for. The slips looked like a kid put all the 1’s in the alphabet kit set side by side. Outside of a couple of big houseboats, everything else was small craft. Holidayland was a weekend retreat for city folks wanting to get their fish on. It was a cold dark night, but the flask is keeping me warm. I’ll have the zings in the morning for sure, but that didn’t matter. Make a wish, count to three. Isn’t that what Willy Wonka used to say? Maybe you’ll win the golden ticket. Maybe not. The call had been confusing. I asked for the woman I’d talked to earlier about the boat but was told she was no longer was working there. The guy who did answer claimed to be the owner, but the name he gave didn’t match what I had on file. In the background, I could hear a girl’s voice telling him to get back to bed. When I asked if he had any information on Herrington he hung up. All I knew was the Sunset docked here and something was missing

 I stared at the phone for a good minute soaking in the words. Could this get any weirder? A dog barking at a squirrel next to my bench brought me back to reality. "I assume you have some questions?" Williams' voice was sharp. "Only one. Where were you yesterday?" "My place, mostly." A swan took flight across my field of vision, settling in the cold water next to a clump of trees. "Cleaning up the Bartlett file for the lawyers." "No side trips?" "Not up that way." I looked at my shoes. For some reason the cold making my feet numb. "Met one of the lawyers for lunch at Mary Mac's to discuss the final report for Bartlett. That was at 1. I was back about 2:30 and worked until about midnight." "Ok." Williams sighed. It wasn't what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth. "I might need to you to come in again. I'll let you know." And he was gone. Somehow,

  As I pass the gazebo, the swans begins to fuss, the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. I sit down and watch as the birds play in front of a family with a loaf of bread. The most bold of the birds chases a girl up the bank, hoping the something will drop. They were as bad as the bag ladies outside my building. I had to get away from the screen, so I came down to the park. Being cold and a weekday, virtually no one was here. I pull the hood up closer as the wind picked up. Angie said I looked like a bear in the heavy coat. And the thought made me wish I was in San Juan. That I had not chickened out and put up with being the stranger in the strange land. I want empanadas, plantains, and rum. I want her curls in my face and her scent in my nose. Marion County released the Sunset to the insurance company, the arson case had gone cold with Herrington still in the wind. The estate will get paid and that's all the lawyer care about. Their circus, not mine. I met with them yesterday to f

 The line under the picture of the current Sherriff said "To Serve Man" stood just inside the door. It a twist on the old "To protect and serve" most departments use. I look a little harder while I'm waiting in the security line. He is a clean cut, military looking guy. It makes me wonder what secrets he's keeping. Yeah, I've gotten cynical. I had texted McMillan of my arrival. "Come on in" was the immediate replay. I sigh. I was hoping for a minute in the parking lot to collect my thoughts. I put my gun in the lockbox under the dash and head on in. As I get out of the car, I notice the sign on a post next to my car: "Directions to the Travolta Farm here!", with a box of maps. You would think you were in L.A. or something. I guess this backwater place has to have way to fight the Holiday Blues. I empty the pockets at security. No issues. I didn't think there would be. A couple seconds I see McMillan. He was a dead rin

  Hey, Heidy, and Howdy! It’s your old pal Harry Handy here at internet wonder WOFT, The Old Fart, spinning tunes for you geritol guys and gals… Online radio is a wonder. Just music with only an occasional scream from the “talent”. Better than the on-air stations where its commercials 24/7. I always hated this part of I-75 when the fog would form in the fields on either side of the road. Lights flashed dimly in the distance, saying conditions were right for a complete whiteout. Singing along made for a good diversion as I drive the tree lined tunnel. “…next up is that novelty hit from Brooklyn-“The Lion Sleeps Tonight.”… A semi is ahead of me, trailer listing to the left. It doesn’t look like it would take much for it to go over. Bad spring or a bad load? I don’t want to find out. A glance in my sideview shows the lane is clear and I move on over. A State Trooper is doing a county fundraiser on the right shoulder. Some things never change on this road. The dealer in Cross Creek had giv

  Gray rain was coming down in sheets and coffee is doing nothing for my sour mood. The clock shows 9:30 and I’ve been up since 5 bouncing from site to site. I want to be where it’s ten thousand degrees in the shade. I need a break and turn on the TV and stare at the screen. A preacher in a gray silk suit is blasting the “word.” “Glory, glory Hallelujah! The sun is shining down.” The Suit’s message: “Sinners send tithes to multiply our mission.” You’d think they get off the platitudes and work with the Sinners themselves, like Donna, or Delores, or some guy in prison. Nah. That’s too hard. Pharisees are like that. They forget the why. It’s the other guy’s problem and his money should go to a better home, like me. Send the money in today. It’s been a long time since I darkened a church door. Got tired of the corporate line of “salvation” and Sevilles, playing church for all to see. Modern Pharisees was what Angie had called them. People going through the motions and putting on a show. Y

  The car is empty as I drive by. At least I think it is. But no excuse not to be careful. I head up to the top of the deck and park next to the Corvette. It should be safe for a couple of hours, the towing company hasn’t been by in weeks. I pop out toward the stairwell. The interior is lit with holiday light and it doesn’t bode well. The door to my floor is propped open. I quickly go to the other staircase. Illuminated by another set of light, couple was coming up the stairs, hanging off each other. I didn’t recognize them, but they seemed OK. I’ll act normal and no one will suspect a thing. A snow fox would be proud of me as make my way down. They get off at the third floor and don’t even notice I’m there. Good. Getting out on my floor, I see two sets of shoe prints on concrete floor going up to Delores’s place, a woman’s and a man’s. She’s none of my business, but I am compelled to at least check it out. I feel a twinge of anticipation as I get closer, like when I would wake up Chri