The Godfather

Having read over it once more it strikes me that my previous story, The Tolling of the Bell, was perhaps slightly gruesome. In order to make up for that I shall post something a bit lighter instead. I thought this particular story up when I was pondering, as I do, the word "Godfather". I then couldn't help but wonder what would happen if say God himself was your godfather and so "The Godfather" came about.

THE GODFATHER

Josh was looking forward to picking up Hannah for Prom. They’d been talking about it since the start of the year. She had been anticipating it ever since it had been announced but she’d been getting more concerned and anxious as the date had gotten closer.
‘Just nerves I guess, after all Prom only comes once right?’ Thought Josh.
Yesterday at school she’d completely freaked out at him because he wasn’t going to be good enough for her Godfather. Well, he’d prove her wrong. He’d win over her godfather and do it with style too. He’d rented his tuxedo, complete with cummerbund and bowtie, and he was pretty sure that’d appeal to the old guys fashion sense. It wasn’t like she was a member of the mob and her godfather was ‘The Godfather’. Her dad was a pastor for crying out loud! He knocked on the door.

Nothing happened.

‘Hmm, maybe I’ll try the doorbell instead.’ He thought.

A chorus of Hallelujah sounded, complete with bells and peals of thunder.

‘Surely that’s overdoing it, even for her dad. We all know he loves god but that’s a bit much.’

The doors swung open and a great light shone through, illuminating Josh. It was almost exactly like a spotlight.

‘Sort of like Angel Rays.’ He reflected.

A deep baritone voice rang out and demanded “ARE YOU JOSH?”

Somewhat uneasy from this display but determined not to let it show and to make a good impression Josh answered.

The light faded and revealed a small-ish man who did not look like he was as short as he appeared. Indeed he looked like he could have been a giant trapped in a man’s body. Josh blinked until the strange vision went away. He wore a white suit.

“Come in Josh, I’ve been waiting for you.”

The volume of the voice had died down but it still seemed to resonate as if it were being said from a thousand miles away and yet it was still so clear.

“Er, thank you. You must be Hannah’s godfather I take it? After all, I’ve seen her father and you look very different from him. Sort of…”
“Bigger?”
“Yes, in a way I guess. Um, is Hannah ready yet, do you know?”
“I know many things, everything in fact. And no she is not ready. She doesn’t know you’re here. You see, I’ve been watching you Josh and I plan on making sure that you behave yourself tonight. I look after many people and my Goddaughter is very special to me.”
“You’ve been watching me?”
Josh tried to laugh it off but he was becoming still more uneasy. It was becoming much harder for him to continue his unintimidated demeanour.
“With respect sir, that strikes me as being a little rude watching someone and not introducing yourself.”

The man burst out laughing. It was a very pleasing sound to hear. Like cherubs playing harps.

“Very bold young man, very bold. Be careful that your boldness doesn’t show too much tonight though otherwise you might be surprised at what you receive. Ah, here she is.”

Suddenly a girl appeared on the staircase down. ‘Funny, thought Josh, but I never noticed that being there before. In fact I can’t remember this house even having a second fl-’ But that was as far as the thought got before his brain shut down and his jaw hung from his mouth as he noticed how she looked. The girl that he had known had never been accused of being pretty, let alone being beautiful but the girl that stood before him on the staircase was positively radiant.

Her once dulled honey coloured hair now shone golden, reflecting the light that shone down from the top of the staircase. Her skin, once somewhat pallid now glowed with vitality, the colour of fresh peaches, and her dress showed off a body he had never imagined that she had. It curved in all the right places and tucked in all the right ways. It had a rose the same colour as her eyes tucked into the lapel. And oh her eyes! They had always been the things he liked most about her, their unusual violet hue that seemed to both take his breath away and give him reason to keep breathing, had now obtained an incredible intensity in their hue. ‘Probably because of the pink near the edges’ thought a small part of his brain before it got shouted down and told to shut up so that the rest of him could keep enjoying the sight.

“Josh! You didn’t tell me that Josh had arrived! I’m not even in my dress yet! Why didn’t you tell me, oh God.”

And with that she ran back up the stairs to finish getting ready and the light disappeared.

“Close your mouth boy you’re starting to drool on that nice suit you’re wearing.”

Josh’s jaw snapped shut while his brain continued jumping through hoops and missed them badly.

“She…her hair…her eyes…that…who??” Was all he could manage.

“Ah yes, I’m glad you approve. I made her that dress you know. Of course it works much better with the complete ensemble but I think you’ve gotten the gist of it alright. Gabriel was always good with hair. Oh stop looking like you’ve been slapped by a haddock. She’ll be back and if that’s what she does to you half dressed ‘I’ know what effect she’ll have on you next.”

It was as much the odd phrasing that had been used in those last sentences as anything else that finally brought Josh’s rapidly spinning mind back into any semblance of normalcy.

“Slapped…what?? And what did you mean by ‘I’…”

“Hello Hannah, I apologize for not informing you about your escort’s arrival but you were with Michael and you know what he’s like when he’s fitting and gets interrupted. Almost as bad as my son with his woodwork that one.”

Once again Josh was met with the sudden beauty that was apparently his girlfriend of two years and, having had time to adjust from the first meeting, was much more capable of admiring the work that had obviously gone into making her such. The jacket, if it could be called that, covered her dress from before and was a powerful emerald green that was so deep you could get lost in it. It had gold piping along the seams, which had the effect of flattering her new hair colour very well. And the hair, now that he had gotten used to the difference of colour was tied in a very sophisticated, upswept manner with a red ribbon that was inlaid with silver and black patterning. The rose was still visible in the lapel and it still put his corsage to shame. It was full of life and seemed almost as if it would jump off and dance if asked. She had a tiara of pearl ensconced with opals and she had white gold earrings that you almost wouldn’t have noticed unless you were looking at them. They were in the shape of crosses. Her purse was a silky, pearly colour and it had been decorated with gate designs.

Josh couldn’t understand how ANYONE, let alone her pastor father, could have afforded such magnificent garb. Then he looked at her Godfather again and noticed the quality of his suit. Well at least now he knew where the quality came from. But it still must have been enough to bankrupt an empire.

“Bring her back by midnight Josh and remember what I told you. There’s a time for boldness, and this is not it. Bye Hannah! Have fun!”

‘Wow, weird godfather, wait…where did that limo come from??’ Thought the now thoroughly confused Josh.

“Oh Josh! You got a limo! Thank you!”
“Um, er, right yes. Limo…”
“Well? Stop staring at it and get in! We’re going to PROM!”

So, despite his extreme bemusement (which he was still hiding admirably well), he got in and shut the door. The limo was extremely well furnished, even by limo standards. It had soft, red leather cushions that were very comfortable to sit on as well as a drinks station that served no less than 15 different sodas. It even had a small table that must have been magnetized because no matter how hard a bump there was not a single drop of cherry soda (Hannah’s favourite) spilled. Not that there were any bumps to demonstrate this, the ride was so smooth that if they hadn’t been able to look out the windows they would have sworn that they weren’t moving.

When they pulled up outside the building, there was not a single person who was unimpressed by Hannah’s dress. And there were even fewer (at least amongst the men) who didn’t look at Josh standing beside her and envy him.

Tom, the leader of the football team and one of the guys who picked on Josh the most, stepped up to him and thumped him on the back. Hard.

“Moving up in the world ‘ey John? Care to introduce us to her?” And as he said this his eyes moved meaningfully up and down Hannah. “Maybe you should ditch this loser and come with us ‘ey babe. We’d show you a good time wouldn’t we boys?”

At this prompting the group of guys behind him began laughing and hooting while the girls that were with them rolled their eyes and prepared to give them an earful as soon as prom was over.

John and Hannah left the guys while they were too busy nudging each other to realize that the girl they’d just been calling out had disappeared. Nor did they realize that there was a large, almost invisible hand descending from the sky towards them.

The inside of the party was in full swing with music and dancing and food and drink. Sometimes as in the case of Gertrude, the girl who had once liked Josh but now secretly had feelings towards Tom, these things were all happening at the same time. The poor man who had been unfortunate to get roped into going with her was being neatly tossed around in what might have been a parody of the waltz but looked more like a whale trying to breach. If the whale weighed only 65 pounds and was being forced to perform by its 230-pound girlfriend. She snapped one look at them and then continued on with hurling her poor escort like a sack of potatoes.

“Care to dance?”
“Oh Josh, I’d love to but there’s so many people and I don’t want to damage my dress!”

Just as soon as she said that the lights went out and a spotlight shone down upon them.

“And now for the winners of the best dressed competition to show off their moves to a slow dance!”

“Josh! We’re in the spotlight! And everyone’s moving so we can dance, oh how romantic!”

Josh would have replied but he could have sworn that he recognized that voice. He didn’t have time to think of who it was anyway, he was with the most beautiful girl in the world slow dancing. Life couldn’t get any better.

‘Well, that isn’t necessarily true’ thought Josh, ‘After all, we could always-‘
“I’m watching you Josh McGinness”

He almost jumped but managed not to, he wouldn’t have gotten very far anyway since Hannah had him held so tightly he could feel her-No! Now wasn’t the time to enjoy that. Someone had said something but nobody had opened their mouths and no one, not even Hannah who was standing next to him, seemed to have heard the warning. He would not let on that he’d heard it either then, he decided. But there was still the thought nagging at the back of his head.

They finished the dance without further incident when the principal got on the microphone.

“Congratulations everybody, that was a wonderful dance. Now I want to thank each and every one of you for coming out tonight and celebrating Prom…”

At this point his voice was drowned out by the cheering from the crowd when Josh noticed that Hannah no longer had her purse. He took her hand and led her away from the noise.

“What happened to your hand-bag?”
“My hand-bag?”
“You know, your purse.”
“Oh my gosh I must have left it in the limo!”
“Come on, I don’t think the driver left the school grounds yet. He’s probably at the front parking lot, the one near the flagpoles. We’ll go get it there.”
“Okay.”

They made their way to the parking lot, making sure not to step on the wet grass so that Hannah’s dress didn’t get dirty.

“Oh my gosh look! Josh up there on the flagpoles! What happened to them?”

For hung up on the flagpoles by their underwear were the guys that had made fun of Josh before when they’d left the limo. And they looked like they were in pain.

“Hung up by their jocks”

He grinned at the thought of the school jocks hanging from the flagpoles by their jocks. ‘Wait, who said that?’

“They look pretty funny hung up like that but that can’t be comfortable, maybe we should let them down…my purse! That one has my purse! How dare he!”

Josh looked where she had pointed and indeed the poor man was holding the strap of her purse as it dangled just within reach. Hannah strode out and took it from the man, pulling down harder than necessary causing the man’s underwear to break and him to fall to the ground. It also elicited a very pained groan from the now very prostrate man, whom she kicked once for good measure. ‘That stiletto had to hurt’ thought Josh who couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity towards the man.

“I wonder where Tom is though?”
“Who?”
“Never mind, come one let’s get back inside.”

They returned to the hall to discover that it had changed completely. The principal had been bound and was being carried out in the direction that they had come from screaming about the dire consequences facing the now-no-longer students and threatening whoever it was that had spiked the punch with extreme measures in which the police would be called on. The school band had been replaced by a motley group wielding guitars and drumsticks like weapons and belting out various rock songs. The trombonist could still be seen hanging from the ceiling trying to regain his trombone, which had lodged itself in the rafters. The students themselves had devolved into a singular moving mass with various groups in the shadows either making out or simply unconscious. Sometimes they were both. In fact Gertrude seemed to have lost her original escort and had found Tom, who was thoroughly knocked out, and she was very vigorously enjoying his company. Josh couldn’t help but smile again.

“Come on Josh let’s get out of here. Everybody’s drunk and it doesn’t look like there’s even any real dancing going on anymore.”
“Yeah, probably a good idea. Let’s get the limo to take us to the overlook”
“This isn’t the time either Josh.”
“What was that Josh?”
“I said let’s take the limo and go someplace else.”
“What about home?”

Suddenly disappointed he couldn’t celebrate fully he agreed to take her home. In fact he was very surprised that it was so late. He hadn’t thought that it had been two hours already and he was still hoping to spend some more time with her. In fact, he was really starting to like this new, assertive Hannah.

They got into the limo and began the route home but instead of taking a right at the corner of St. John’s Cathedral the limo pulled into the parking lot and sat there.

“Not that I’m complaining but I don’t think we’re home yet do you?””No, but I remember this place. It’s Saint John’s, I wonder if he’ll mind if we stop by and say hi?”

Not knowing what to say to such a remark Josh merely agreed that they could stop by and that they wouldn’t have much issue. Although he was slightly worried about the time since it was eleven thirty already and he didn’t want to face the consequences of explaining to her angry godfather why exactly she had been late.

“Oh, it’ll be alright. He won’t mind the church. He loves spending time in them too you know.”

So they wandered into the cathedral and Josh was amazed that it was open. And that there was actually someone standing at the altar as if he had expected them.

“John! It’s so good to see you again, of course you know Josh. He was the one I was telling you about before, you and Paul.”
“Welcome Hannah, Josh, to my humble abode. Please make yourselves comfortable. Feel free to sit and pray.” And then he began to whisper to the air. Josh didn’t catch all of it but he heard small snatches. It sounded like latin.

Hannah sat in the middle of the third aisle; Josh took fourth. From this angle he saw how beautiful she was. As she sat there with her head bowed in silent prayer she looked almost like he imagined an angel would. And the more he looked at her the more he could see her in the future. He saw them buying a house together, raising kids together, growing old together. And while the thought might have scared him before he was delighted to notice that he had no problems with it. In fact, it felt right. And he realized that he was in a holy place, a cathedral, and that it was the most romantic place he’d ever been in. He continued looking at her and thinking about their future together and about how much he loved her when his hand began to move, almost as if it were being guided, down to his pocket in which he found a single diamond ring.

“Now is the time for boldness.”

And suddenly he knew what to do. He stood up and walked down to the end of the aisle crossed himself and then walked up to Hannah. He kneeled down and when she looked at him he said

“Hannah, I love you more than life itself. I would move the earth and the heavens to be with you. You are the most beautiful and incredible girl that I have ever met and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

And the tears welled up in her eyes as she took the ring and nodded her head as she began to smile and in that smile, Josh could see all of heaven laid out before him. He could hear the angels singing and the bells ringing and the harps playing and the thunderous applause of thousands clapping at once and as one.

John performed the ceremony there and then and the hall filled with a light so bright that they had to shut their eyes as they kissed and when they light faded there stood a small-ish man. But he wasn’t small, he was a giant and he filled the room and the world and the universe over. He wore a white suit. He smiled at them and blessed them and to Josh he said this.

“Josh. You have brought her such happiness and I know that you will bring her more every day for the rest of your lives. You are a good man and a fine man. I know you will take care of her and that you will care for her like no other man could. You will stand up for her when she is weak and you will support her when she is strong. You will stand like a mountain and you will forever more keep her safe.”

And the man began to fade and when he was nearly gone from view Josh heard one last thing.

“And you’re welcome for those boys.”

And Josh smiled. He had a beautiful wife and a bright future ahead of him.

The Tolling of the Bell

I promised a short story and a short story I will give. This particular short story I thought up while I was at university in a psychology lecture dealing with hallucinations, and then afterwards I began to think a little bit of Mr. E.A. Poe and Stephen King, some of my favorite writers and well...my brain gave me this little toot.


The Tolling of the Bell

Stan was a man. A practical man. Stan, being a psychology major, believed that every instance of what he called “supernaturalism” could be explained away by logical thinking. He was tall and thin, with raven-like features and piercing eyes that he enjoyed using to find out peoples secrets. And of course he loved to challenge their superstitious nonsense.

The clock was an interesting clock certainly. It was a great grandfather made of polished ebony with ivory trimmings on the base and on the exquisitely carved clock face, a pendulum of brilliant brass swung slowly beneath it as it ticked away the time.

It lay at the top of a staircase in Stan’s uncles house, it was nearly a mansion save that he didn’t have the garden, which used to belong to Stan’s grandfather. It was surprisingly dark, full of shadows but that didn’t bother Stan, he was unafraid of ghosts and ghouls. Since it was close to campus he’d decided that he’d live in it and probably spruce it up too. He liked his sense of style and thought it was a pretty good one to have, even if not everyone approved, he as happy with it. The boxes were piled up haphazardly all around the front hall and he was glad that his friends, Mike and Steve, had been there to help him. Mike was on a sports scholarship, playing rugby, but he had dreams of getting into medicine and becoming a doctor. God knew,
haha that’s a laugh,
that he was smart enough. And Steve was a musician to his heart. He didn’t have the strength or stamina for sports but he made up for it by writing the most beautiful music for his cello. He was so good in fact that he regularly did concerts at the local hall to help fund his college. They were Stan’s two best friends, indeed he loved them more than family seeing as how his family had done little to help him with his college dream and they were all superstitious fools anyway. His friends had always been there for him, ever since grade school all the way up to college, and he was proud of them for it.

The clock rang at quarter to seven that night. “Bloody nuisance” thought Stan, “never runs on time”. And he went back to his nightly schedule of studying and drinking scotch while his dog, Dinky, slept by his feet. Stan liked scotch.

He woke up the next morning with the beginnings of a hangover but at least his work was done and he wouldn’t have to worry about his schedule for his next exam. He fed himself and Dinky and then he settled down to read the mornings newspaper and do the cross-word since his psychology lecture didn’t begin until eleven. At half past nine his door rang, a haunting, mournful tone that would have been more appropriate at a mortuary than at his house. It was Steve, who looked like a man staring at his grave. “What’s wrong man?” asked Stan.
“He’s dead. Mike’s dead. He was hit in rugby and never got up again and now he’s dead.” And at that they both began to weep and mourn their good friend, who had died of a stroke while in a ruck during his game at seven the night before.

Stan missed his psych lecture that day as they arranged to bury Mike at his favourite spot, none of them believed in church, on a hill that overlooked the medical facilities, but only after they had donated what organs they could to the medical faculty. Mike would have wanted it that way.

That night Stan sat down with Dinky and stroked the dog. Sometimes he thought that Dinky might be smart but then the dog would do something like chase her own tail and that dispelled that notion. He looked at his scotch cabinet longingly and the dog nudged his hand with her nose. She knew him well and she felt when her master was in pain, the bad smelling drink seemed to make him happier and so she fetched him a bottle from the bottom shelf.

He woke up the next morning badly hungover, and took a drink to help ease the pain. Then another, and another. By his sixth scotch he was able to walk, if a little unsteadily, to where he kept his books. He hadn’t done the work but that was okay, he’d catch up with it tomorrow when his head didn’t hurt so much. He was just leaving when he heard the clock strike again. It was only nine o’clock.

He tried his best to concentrate but couldn’t. The clock was starting to unnerve him
that’s absurd, it’s only a clock!
and the death of his friend was still fresh in his mind. He caught a couple of words but ended up leaving early.

The uneasy feeling did not abate when he’d returned to his new home. If anything all it did was get worse.
Stop it! It’s just a clock, you’re scaring yourself over nothing. Associating a traumatic event with a coincidence, you learned that in first year! It’s not real!
Despite himself he was thoroughly drunk by that evening when he heard the bell ring again. This time it was a man and a woman. They were in uniforms.

The police sat him down and explained to him that Steve had been setting up for a concert at ten when a man, hopped up on drugs, charged in with a loaded firearm and proceeded to beat him and then shoot him. They had caught the killer and they wanted him to know that they would press charges, but the man thought that the killer had a good chance of escaping conviction on grounds of temporary insanity induced by mind altering substances in his system. Apparently the man had so many drugs pumping through his system that it was a minor miracle that he was alive. They didn’t tell him that though.

After the police had gone Stan broke down and cried for the first time since he was a child of four and his dad had beaten him. He wept and he mourned and he drank until he knew no more. His last thought was how much he hated the clock.

He continued drinking for the next couple days, missed all of his lectures and labs, and soon received a letter informing him that if he didn’t improve his grades he would have to drop out of the course. Of course Dinky was there for him the whole time, his last friend in the world, and he loved her so dearly. He held her and cried himself to sleep and all throughout it he thought about that damned clock
It’s only a clock
and what it had done to his friends
Nothing!
and if he was next
Impossible!


Four days after he had received the letter he was starting to feel better, he still cried and had nightmares but he knew how to cope with nightmares. They weren’t real and he could rationalize them again. He began to think about perhaps taking a vacation, he’d been working too hard and he’d been through some traumatic experiences that had certainly taken their toll on him
The bells…
possibly Hawaii, or maybe Tahiti, or maybe something in Europe. Yes Europe, and he’d take Dinky with him too. Maybe take some time in Paris to visit the Eiffel Tower, or up to Britain for the Tower of London
Tower of death…
No, not London. Maybe Piccadilly, he could spend some time shopping. With Dinky. His beautiful, beautiful dog.
Dinky….
The clock was ringing…

Without even thinking about it, at least not where he was aware of it, he ran to her room just under the stairs. She was gone. He checked the house and saw the front door open. He bolted outside, could he hear yapping? He could, he followed the noise and turned the corner where he saw Dinky. She was chasing a butterfly and had wandered into the local junkyard. He watched in horror as, unable to move or even speak, she caught her foot on some junk in the compactor. And then he heard the whine of the machine begin
Dinky!
He tried to get to her to help her out but by the time he had gotten there her back half was already inside the rapidly
Too rapidly
closing machine. He heard her painful whining and yelping and he tried to release her, he grabbed at the junk that was holding her and then when that failed he grasped her paws and tried to pull her free through sheer force.
DINKY!
She was three quarters of the way in the machine then and he could see the life dying in her eyes, her loving, devoted eyes looking back at him as he struggled to save her. She licked his face once and then was gone. Into the machine.
dinky…

He had nothing
Nothing
Nothing at all
Nothing
Nothing except that clock
That cursed clock, that evil clock
Yes, the clock was evil, it was cursed. It had robbed him of his best friends
Mike.
Steve.
and his beloved dog
Dinky…
It had ruined his life, once so passionately filled with care and joy for his work and his sanity.
Oh, he was sane. So very sane. He was so sane he was in it. In sane hahahahaha!
He didn’t care about the tears coursing down his face, all he felt was the agony of loss and he was going to make it pay.
Pay for what it had done!
Oh yes, it would suffer as he had suffered and it would hurt no one ever again!

He walked to the hardware shop after all he had all the time in the world now. He had no life anymore
What life?
No friends
What friends?
And all the time in the world to make that clock suffer. It had ruined his life but it would not ruin him. He would destroy it and his torment would end. He’d be free.
So free!
He bought an axe and, other than a surprised look by the cashier because he was still crying, went unmolested in his task.

He entered his home
That cursed home
With the axe in hand
That bastardized piece of clockwork would pay
And he could feel the loathing fuel his efforts, his anguish and torment fuelled his rage and he would use that rage to annihilate that damned, fucking clock. He’d turn it into kindling and then he’d burn it, it and the entire home, and he’d be free!
He took his time up the stairs,
after all he had all the time in the world
but as soon as he saw it he felt a sudden urgency to hurt it, to get the job done as if it was as distasteful to him as his beliefs had been. He swung the axe hard.

The clock tolled one more time and his hand slipped and he buried the axe-head in the wall next to the clock. He struggled to free it, all the while terrified of the tolling of the bells in the clock.
Ask not for whom the bell tolls…
He ripped the axe free but the effort was too great to control, he slipped and fell down the stairs, flinging the axe up to free his hand to stop the fall but it was too late. He tumbled down the stairs and when he looked up and saw the axe and heard the bells
It tolls for thee.
He knew no more.



The police, having stopped by to investigate reports of a gibbering madman entering the property, found the body lying at the foot of the stairs with a broken back and an axe buried in his chest. They deemed it an accident based on the damaged wall at the top of the stairs. They ruled that the death was caused by the fall and that the axe had perhaps simply slipped from his hand. But they couldn’t be certain which came first since the axe-head had been completely buried in the poor man’s chest, almost all the way through, and they couldn’t understand how it had gotten the force with which to nearly pass through him.

The house went up for auction, seeing as his parents had passed away and he had no next of kin. The house was sold to an old gentleman who had worked for the college and was looking forward to retiring. He liked the clock.

Well, Here I Am.

Wow. My own blog. I feel like I should do something to commemorate this and yet I can't think of anything. I suppose I'll just explain briefly why I chose to set up a blog. I like to write, no that's not adequate, I love to write. I love it even more than I love to play games. I guess that's because with writing I can change anything I want, not merely what a programmer, planner, or GM will let me change. I've been writing for a while, at least in my opinion, four years or so. Many things I've written I've deleted almost straight away, and those things I didn't delete invariably would get lost in the hopeless clutter that is my floor. But recently I've taken to writing things up more often on the computer and I must say that it is far more helpful to me at organizing than files or journals. All I have to do is look up the name of the story on Microsoft Word, the old one thank you (I don't know how anyone can understand that new release version they did), and there it is at my fingertips ready for any alterations I may feel like making. And as for creating this blog all I can say is that I would like to share some of my "Short Stories and Other Brain Farts" with the world. Well enough of my senseless jabbering, as it is with the stage, so shall it be here in this virtual stage. On with the story!