Sunday morning in the call center, and the place was empty and dead as usual. Not too many drivers went out on the weekends so a skeleton crew of one could handle the call volume pretty easily. Admittedly, the comforts of a low-stress, low-activity

Sunday morning in the call center, and the place was empty and dead as usual. Not too many drivers went out on the weekends so a skeleton crew of one could handle the call volume pretty easily. Admittedly, the comforts of a low-stress, low-activity

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The Craigslist Ad Was A Familiar One. It Had Been A While Since I’d Heard Anything From The Rat, But Tonight It Seemed He Was In Town And On The Prowl Again. The Subject Line As Usual Simply Read: Stop. Look. Obey. I Never Could Resist Him.

Nobody Ever Asks Me What It’s Like To Be A Murderer. It’s Like The Old Saying Goes: If You Do Your Job Well Enough, One Shouldn’t Be Able To Tell You Were Doing It At All. Ars Est Celare Artem. I’d Like To Say Getting Rid Of People Is A Hobby

I Was Marching The Length Of The Border Fence For The Hundred And Thirty-Seventh Time Today. Dark Clouds And Thunder Had Been Looming Above For A While Now, But I Still Hadn’t Seen Any Rain. But That’s Okay. I Wasn’t Looking For Rain—I Was

I Had Been Looking Forward To Vacationing At The Coach’s Place In The Woods For A While Now. Sometimes You Just Need A Break From The Day-To-Day Grind, And This Was One Of Those Times—After A Few Hard Months At Work With No Real Time Off, A Long

From The Moment I First Heard The Music, I Knew I Would Have To Follow It. The Convention Was Noisy And Full Of People But The Notes Somehow Stood Out, A Bright Spot Like Biting Into A Fresh Blueberry Baked Into A Muffin—Which Is Actually Kind Of

The Bear Left His Tent While The Dawn Was Still Breaking. He Gathered Up Enough Firewood To Keep Him Warm For The Morning And Set Up His Campfire In The Pit. It Was Still Early And There Was No Need To Work Too Hard Just Yet. He Sat And Watched The

I Slept In On Sunday Morning Till It Was Already Sunday Afternoon. My Mates Had Already Gotten Up, Leaving Me The Whole Big Warm Bed To Sprawl Out In—Which Basically Meant Rolling Into The Deep Indentation In The Mattress Where Rockwell Had Been

“You Can’t Honestly Enjoy Being Fat.” The Comment Left On My Latest Video Shouldn’t Have Affected Me As Much As It Did. I Was No Stranger To The Jeers And Barbs Slung At Me By Random Viewers—I Knew They’d Come When I Started My Channel,

Sometimes When A Good Thing Happens, You Want To Go Out And Celebrate It. Today, For Example, Was Something To Celebrate Because Mattock Had Just Gotten The Big Raise At Work, And What Better Way To Celebrate A Raise Than To Go Out And Spend It All

Kibben Walked Past The Rows Of Stalls, Trying To Find The Scent He Needed. The Musk Farm By Its Nature Was A Rather Fragrant Place, But The Beaver’s Nose Was Keener Than Most And He Could Always Pick Out The Smell He Was Looking For. The Farm Was

If The Park Restroom Had Acquired A Reputation As An Infamous Cruising Spot, It Was Most Likely Because Of Me. Over The Past Few Months I’d Put A Lot Of Time Into The Place And A Lot Of Dick Into The Thirsty Men Of Town Who Showed Up To Get Some.

One Thing I’ve Always Loved About The Big City Is That It’s Got Everything—Even The Stuff You’d Think You Have To Go Out To The Countryside For. Fresh, Local Produce Is One Of Those Things I Usually Bring Up As An Example: Some People Think

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