My cousin got married.....2hr15min late.

I got a call asking can I pick my cousin, the groom's daughter up from the hotel and bring her to the ceremony. I'm like of course, love her she's sweet and like 9 then. I leave my house an hour before the ceremony is supposed to start to get to the hotel. I get to the hotel 45min until ceremony. Knock on door and someone opens it. I see my little cousin....who is in pajamas. Im freaking out as where is her dress. She's supposed to be a flower girl in her dad's wedding. At this moment the bathroom door swung open. The bride is just getting out of the tub....45min before her wedding 😐 (30min drive to the building btw). She tells me her mom accidentally took the girl dress. Which i dont understand how an adult sized woman confuses a small 9 year old dress for hers but ok. She says her mom has the dress there already, i tell cousin let's go to get you changed. The bride then tells her 10 year old daughter bye. Im like where is she going 👀. She says oh she's going with you. Now I have never met her daughter a day in my life, don't even know her name. She then goes, and please don't get her dress dirty 😑. Whatever let's just go!

We finally get there 15min before the start time.They forgot to cut the air on the night before so it was hot af. Like I could feel sweat dripping down the inside of my thighs. The brides mom is walking around putting out food and clearly not wearing a bra. I asked for the dress and get my cousin changed. I then asked the mom why isn't she dressed. She said oh her dress is still at the hotel....I just left 🤦🏾‍♀️. I ask why didn't her daughter tell me to bring the dress with me? No answer.

For 2 hours people are just walking around. My cousin and the brides mom also get into an argument about a chair for some reason. My aunt, the mother of the groom, bless her, was going through menopause and having hot flashes. She spent the bulk of the time with her head in the freezer in the kitchen. While this is going on, the brides family chooses this time to block off all the seats at the front except one luckily. So my aunt was able to sit there.

The wedding finally starts (mind you we have no idea why its being held up, didn't get that info until later). The first guy walks in to light the candles (idk if thats just a black thing or not), there are 2 stands that both have about 7 candles on each. The guy lights ONE candle on each stand and then walks tf off and leaves. My uncle is the pastor looks at me and my cousin like wtf?!? He then whispers "I know im old and yall are going to have to bring me into the new age, but what was that". Me and my other cousin are both like 🤷🏾‍♀️ cause we are also confused. Moving on. The colors for the wedding were lilac. The flower girls come down in the darkest purple and im just like mmmkay. During this time both my cousins enter from outside. No idea where they had been waiting. My cousin who is the best man goes 🤨🧐 when he sees the flower girls, cause ya know, lilac. Finally the bridal party enters, they dance down the aisle 😐. And it was awful.

Finally they start talking. My uncle is reading whatever it is they read. He gets to the line that asks if anyone objects. (It should be noted that the bride does not like my family. They kinda blocked a lot of the seats, which left my mom and one of my aunts sitting around a corner not being able to see). So my uncles goes does anyone have a reason these 2 should not be wed, if so speak now or forever hold your peace. No one said anything. My uncles who is the pastor goes " really?!? Nobody?!? Sherri?!?! (My mom)". Everyone is like what, omg 😂😂. My uncle continues going "i guess". They make it to the part where they ask her " do you take this man.." she goes "I guess". My uncle stares at her, raises his voice and goes " we are doing this one time and one time only, I said..." continues to repeat himself. My uncles is the nicest person you could ever meet so this was all shocking.

While all this was going on I kept noticing my cousin who was a best man squirming, im like mmmkay thats weird. They finally kiss its over. Well because the bride hates my family, and even though they could've gotten married for free at our church she decided she wanted to be married at a random building. So they march out, and come right tf back with an entrance like we didn't just see them. The bride is crying saying people are doing it wrong, no idea what that is. Also, weirdly at this time my other uncle and other cousin ask the cousin next to me to borrow her car to go get something, no idea what as we were in the middle of no where. He then calls as the bride is boohooing saying they made it .5 miles down the road and her bumper randomly fell of her car. Oh and remember the food the brides mother sat out before hand? Yep still there 3 hrs later, in the heat, with flys. At this point I leave as its hot and im just over everything.

I finally was able to talk to my cousin who was the best man and ask him wtf happened. In addition to finding out my mom didnt hear my uncles remarks or she said she wouldve just drug him out of there and we all couldve left. Well of course the wedding was late because of the bride poor time management. I ask where were they the entire waiting. He said they just sat in my other cousins car the entire time in silence like 😐. He didn't know why they were late and didn't want to chance the groom running off so he just didn't speak. I then ask why was he so squirmy during. Apparently the wife wanted to show off that my cousin purchased an engagement ring, wedding ring, and band. She told the best man to bring all three so she can put them all on at the wedding. He spent the entire time trying to hold them together, cause of course if he dropped them they'd go in 3 different directions. That was the last wedding either of us have been to.

I’m an early 30’s American who moved to London about a year ago for a job. It’s always been a dream to live abroad and as a somewhat recently single guy I jumped at the opportunity when it came up as I had nothing tying me down in the US.

I had always wanted to live abroad after traveling a lot internationally in my 20’s and I jumped right into it. Exploring London and England in depth in my spare time, embracing the culture and traditions, traveling throughout Europe on weekends, making new friends / casually dating.

About 6 months in I met a women in her mid 20’s through some friends of friends. I was instantly drawn to her and lucky for me the feeling was mutual (somewhat mutual 😂). We started dating and both quickly made it clear it something more than casual and we both wanted to really see where this could go.

About 4 months in my parents and sister came across the pond to visit. I was big on her not only meeting them but spending some quality time with him. Family is really important to both of us despite living in different countries. They got a long great and my family loved her (no surprise).

After my family had left she talked how much she loved meeting them and was already texting with my sister. She threw out that she’d love to take me to Sweden sometime to see where she grew up and meet her family. I was totally in and fast forward to last weekend we were headed to Sweden together for a long weekend.

Initial meeting and dinner at her parents house was great. Her parents were there and her 2 younger sisters. She always said I’d get along well with them, especially her dad, and she was right. Here is where the funny part starts. At dinner there was mention of the activities planned for the weekend and where I learned about a trip to the Sauna.

Now I’m familiar with Sauna culture in Scandinavia and have also experienced similar set ups in other parts of Europe and Japan. I know they are generally nude and I’m totally comfortable with that. Later that night when we were alone I mentioned jokingly to her that I guess her dad and I were really going to get to know each other.

She laughed and said you’ll get to know the whole family! I must have looked confused because she then proceeds to tell me it’s mixed gender and we will all be together the whole time. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m very comfortable with nudity and in my own skin. I grew up playing sports with shared showers and have worked hard in the kitchen and gym since I was a teen and know I look good without clothes on. Not to mention blessed below the waist.

But being completely naked with my girlfriends family who I just met had me a little rattled. I was like how did you not mention this to me. She was like honestly it’s so normal for us I didn’t even think of it. She then tells me her mom and sisters have been chatting about how the American will handle it (because of the stereotype of how Americans are weird about nudity, which they are).

I’m usually one of the most calm, cool and collected people but that actually rattled me a little more. Long story short it obviously ended up being totally fine. They and everyone else is so use to it fitting in was easy. Afterwards she was like told you it would be fine. I agreed and said I wasn’t worried, just didn’t expect to see your mom and sisters racks this weekend 😂

Last night, I had a call from a private number around 12am. Initially, I rejected it because I was alseep then I realised private call - late at night. You don't know who it could be.

I pick up the phone and am told it is my [Local] Police Station. To preface I am underage. Then they go on about how they've had a mental health concern from a close friend and needed to check in. They double check my name first AND last.

At this point I'm stunned because do I speak alot of shit? Yes. About my parents? Certainly! But it's never been a wellbeing concern so I ask can they disclose who's made the report and they say they can't and are they ok to do a home visit this Tuesday. I let them know my mom is away and it has been processed by HMRC so no one will be home then. They ask are you alone at home and I let them know I'm with my dad but his work hours won't allow that and am thinking what shit has my friend got me and my family into.

At this point, my sister is getting worried and has woken up. They let me know they are able to let me know who filed the report. First and last name again. They give me a number to contact. 10 digits. They ask me do I have any questions. I am just trying to go to bed then I get told it's TalkTalk Radio. The laugh of relied I let out. They go through the procedural question of do you want this to be used on Facebook etc.

At this point they ask, so is this a get back thing or just a silly prank. I tell them 'not that I know of'. Odd question but you never know with these talk shows. The person on the other end let's me know that apparently there's 'beef' and I've been seen with her ex within the past 6 days.

The confusion on my face was evident because I don't fuck with any guy let alone said girls ex. So I relay I'm not seeing anyone. 'Are you sure?' That aggravated me more than anyone will know because I am very vocal about my dislike for him and he is an ex of hers because of my constant input.

'I don't like [ex] and [friend] knows that. I hate his guts and anyone who knows me knows that.' I then hear a prompt 'fuck you' and the line is cut. The whole thing reeked mystery meat and fever dream vibes. Can't believe someone woke me up for that nonsense but he's getting reported to the school for harassment became TalkTalk radio show isn't real as I suspected and that number doesn't look promising. I've yet to figure out how he got ahold of my number either. He has a history of creepy behaviour.

On a random day, I was walking with three of my friends while one of them was going on and on about locks. Locks? Yes, locks. I was not exactly sure what she was saying about locks - probably something illegal - but we all pretended to care. We crossed a street to walk to the store. Before we went inside, we all took a pause, and I noticed that we were pretty much in the way of people passing by, so I tried to move out of the way. As I made my way to get out of the way, I almost ran into a gentleman who, as soon as he saw me, gave me a big smile. Then he says, "Whoa, you are beautiful..." He then looks me up and down and says, "In pink." I was thinking more like pretty in pink. That I actually said out loud, but he says, "Not pretty, you're beautiful." I was a deer caught staring at headlights. Luckily, my friend stepped in. She says, "She is my b****." Catching both me and the other person off guard. When he turned to look at her, he looked mad, she asked him, "What is your profession?" He went back to smiling when he said, "A locksmith."I cannot make these things up. She was like, "Hold on. Wait. Did you say a locksmith?" He now looked proud and puffed out his chest, "Yeah." He turned to look at me, but my friend put her arm over his shoulders. She said to him, "You're my new best friend." Then she started walking him away. With that, I said bye to my other two friends and made my way to whatever I was going. What are the odds of that happening. My poor friend was going on and on about locks, and I almost ran into one that she could actually get answers from. Coincidence or by design?

I was completely focused, entirely cut off from the outside world. Things had finally reached the point I'd been waiting for in the film I'd been watching for a full hour, and I was at the height of my concentration. The detective, who had been tracking down the culprit for the past hour, was now very close to catching and exposing him, and I was incredibly curious. He was about to open the door, walk in, and discover the culprit's identity. I was moments away from finding out whether my suspect was right.

When we look at something, we also see what's to our left and right, albeit vaguely. While watching the television directly in front of us, we can perceive the fan a meter to its right swiveling from side to side. Other objects and movements become blurrier as they move farther away from the center of our field of vision. Everyone knows this and is usually aware of it. Even if your grandfather, sitting to your right at dinner, isn't looking at you, he'll notice if you secretly flip off your brother sitting across from you.

At that moment, the world was nothing more than a rectangle to me. My field of vision had no depth. Ten eagles could have been flying around the room, and I wouldn't have noticed them unless they passed in front of the screen. I had to find out who the culprit was.

Even if you bring your eyes into sharp focus, your ears can't do the same and remain even more open to the outside world than your eyes. When you listen to a song you love, your ears become fully absorbed in it, and your eyes join in, too. You drift away, and your field of vision narrows. But your ears can't join your eyes in doing the same.

“Albert, shut your laptop,” I heard a whisper just as the detective was about to open the door.

At first, I thought it had come from the film. There was no character named Albert in it, and the laptop had very little to do with the plot, but still, I didn't want to take my eyes off the screen before the detective opened that door. However, I'd started thinking by then. A new thought had formed in my mind, and it had weakened my focus. I would enjoy finding out who the culprit was a little less.

I paused the film. I was still looking at the screen, but my field of vision had widened and become rounded again.

I thought I saw a ripple on my right. A moving, blurry image, about a meter in size.

When I turned my head to look, there was nothing there. I looked back at the screen. I thought to myself that being this focused wasn't good either. It bothered me that I was experiencing a mental activity so intensely when the only reason for it was a film. Was finding out who the culprit was really that important? I never focused this intensely when writing my stories, working on a thesis I had to finish, or learning Spanish in the course I'd recently started. That was probably why I'd heard the whisper, too. It was a trick of my mind.

I turned back to the screen. My desire to find out had diminished. Reluctantly, I pressed play.

But then I saw that ripple again. A transparent, shapeless thing, moving randomly. Like a transparent fire, its movements resembled those of a burning flame. I pressed pause.

When I turned my head to the right, it wasn't there again.

A sense of unease had come over me. I stared at the spot where the blur had been. There was no movement at all. All the objects stood still, just as they were.

This time, I saw the same ripple on my left, right in front of the laptop on my lap. I sharply turned my eyes back to the screen. Nothing. The detective walking toward the door, the confident expression on his face. That was all.

I set the laptop aside. I threw off the blanket I'd pulled up to my chest, got out of bed, and sat down at my desk.

I picked up my Spanish dictionary and opened it to a random page to calm myself down a little. I read a few words. The ripple was above me. I looked up at the ceiling, and now it was on the left. I turned to the left, and it moved to the right. Its size changed every time. Sometimes it was a one-meter rectangle, sometimes a scattered circle ten centimeters in diameter, and sometimes a thick line stretching from the floor to the ceiling.

I left the room, and it was on my right, in the shape of a circle. I couldn't get rid of it. My palms were sweating. Now it was on my left. I kept turning my head from side to side, up and down. And I could never bring it into my vertical field of vision; it was always outside it.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my T-shirt. Now it was above me. I tried closing my eyes. But I couldn't. The moment I closed them, a sharp fear would immediately take hold of me, and I'd open them again before even two seconds had passed. My gaze had grown much faster now. Left, right, up, left, down, right, up. I was looking around like crazy. I was like a camera trying to bring an image into focus.

I finally ended up with a stiff neck after one wrong movement.

I could no longer turn my head to the left.

And the ripple was on my left.

I turned to the left with my whole body. It stayed on my left. I turned left once more. It slipped to my left again.

I had turned a full circle. Now it only appeared on my left. It seemed to have found my weak spot. Every time I turned, I instinctively turned my neck a little, too. You know what a stiff neck is like. It's quite painful and sudden. During the day, you forget that your neck is stiff, and if someone calls out to you from your left, you turn to look at them. You feel that sharp little ache.

So I stopped trying to catch it. It stayed on my left, rippling. Sometimes it stretched out, sometimes it shrank, and sometimes it disappeared quickly and reappeared. I moved my pupils as far to the left as I could. Yes, now it had moved to the right, because my field of vision on the left had been reduced to zero.

Now only my pupils were moving. But the image was even closer. And it was getting closer and closer.

Finally, while I was looking straight ahead, I saw it. It hadn't gone away. It's impossible to describe its shape.

“I'm x56 c 66 bmf 8 bmd 8 g 9 kdr 8 889 klkw 999 c 3 d 3 v 3 m 3 g 3 o 3 12345. Thank you for playing with me. By the way, the killer is Michael,” said a voice from very far away, heavily echoing and robotic, sounding a little like a creaking door.

Without knowing why, I tried to catch it with my hand. It was an arm's length away. I'd acted impulsively out of excitement. And it vanished instantly.

The quick, deep breath I drew through my nose passed through my nose hairs and rubbed against my completely dried-out nasopharynx, producing a sound that was a mixture of a faint snore and a low-pitched whistle. I held the breath in my lungs for a while, then slowly exhaled.

I went back into my room, sat down in the armchair, and for some reason, burst into tears. It was like a catharsis. I couldn't remember ever crying this intensely before. Or maybe I was simply crying out of fear, but I wasn't sure that fear could trigger such an intense crying response.

I wiped my eyes, and just as I was about to get up to wash my face, the ripple began speaking from the ceiling, right next to the lamp. It had watched me cry the whole time. Strange.

“If you want to play with me again, all you have to do is look in the mirror and say my name three times, and don't worry, your memory will be erased by tomorrow evening. You'll only remember my name. You'll try to figure out what the hell it was, whether it was your old Wi-Fi password or something. Anyway, Albert, I'm out of here. Take care. It was nice meeting you.”

So my brother wanted to hang some of his guitars on his wall about 10 years ago.

So instead of buying mounts for them my Dad decided to take a screw and drilled the back of his guitars into the wall.

So just like that my brother's four guitars got wrecked because my dad didn't know about mounts or anything to keep them up. So two electrics, a base, and an acoustic probably about $800 then and now probably well over $1200 if it happened today, down the drain with four rusty screws.

Had lunch with Jadyn today. The former stranger. I got there first. Half twelve means half twelve. Found a table near the window and put my waistcoat on the chair opposite. Her spot.

I stood to greet her when she arrived at 12:39.

“Before you ask,” she said, sitting down immediately, “I forgot your plant.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” I said. It wasn’t the start I’d been hoping for.

“You were looking at my hands.”

Fair. She said she’d forgotten to bring it because she’d been away for the weekend and only got back late last night.

“It’s still alive, though,” she assured.

“He’s tougher than he looks.”

“I know. He told me.”

That lightened the mood a little. Wonder where she went. And who with. Could’ve been family. Friends. Somewhere by herself. She seems like someone who’d go away by herself.

“Right, lunch! What are we having?” I asked. She picked the same ham and mature Cheddar sandwich as last time. I asked if she was going to examine all of them again.

“You have to,” she said. “Some of them have too much mayonnaise on one side.”

“The bastards. That’s awful.”

She held up one of the rejects. “Look. Uneven.”

She was right.

I went for the pastrami. I offered to get them both, but Jadyn insisted on paying for her own. I liked that. Grabbed a couple of bags of crisps for us to share instead.

Back at the table, we discussed sandwich construction properly. Jadyn believes cheese should always sit under the wettest ingredient because it protects the bread. Sensible. She likes ham, mustard, mature Cheddar, red onion, and a small amount of rocket.

She doesn’t like pickle, which was disappointing, but nobody’s perfect. I asked the obvious next question.

“What do you put on a fry-up?”

She stopped chewing. “Is this an interview?”

“It’s more of a breakfast compatibility assessment.”

“Are you planning on having breakfast with me? Beans. Lots of beans.”

I put my sandwich down. “On the plate? Loose?”

She laughed. “What do you mean, loose?”

“Not contained.”

“They’re beans, Jolon. Not radioactive waste.”

I explained the benefits of a ramekin. She disagreed with almost everything I said, although she accepted that bean juice touching toast too early could become a problem.

We talked about work after that. She’s helping with a project on the nineteenth floor for a few months, which explains why she keeps appearing in different places like an expensive ghost. She said she likes the actual work but hates all the meetings around it. 

Finally, something we agreed on. 

Jadyn wants to do something more creative eventually. Not sure what yet. Something where she can finish a day and point at an actual thing she made rather than a PowerPoint deck. She told me she once had to redo an entire presentation because somebody senior decided the circles on one slide looked “too aggressive”.

“What colour were they?” I asked.

“Red.”

“I can see that.” I nodded.

She kicked me under the table. I think. Could’ve been the table leg. We somehow got onto school next. She was good at art and terrible at maths. I told her I was good at most things but deliberately underperformed because I didn’t agree with the teaching methods.

“You deliberately flunked it?”

“I rejected the framework.”

“Did you pass anything?”

“I accidentally did alright at Philosophy.”

There was a gentleness to it all. No awkward silences. I’d say something, Jadyn would laugh. Then she’d tell me something, and I’d listen and ask about it. Normal human interaction. We’d been sitting there for almost an hour when she checked the time and swore out loud.

“I’ve got a call.”

“You’ve always got a call!”

“I do my job. I’ve heard about you, Mr Fairweather.”

That took me aback. “All good, I assume?”

That got the biggest laugh of the date. Then she got up to leave. I stood up with her, but she was already off. When she got to the door, she looked back and said, “This was fun, Jolon. We should do it again.”

“I can do Wednesday?”

“Maybe one day next week,” she called over her shoulder.

And just like that, Jadyn was gone. She didn’t touch the crisps I got. Maybe she doesn’t like salt and vinegar. Quite a good day, really. Will try and find us somewhere a bit nicer for next week. 

Recently I decided to travel the entirety of Mount Tamalpais and Point Reyes on a whim, inspired by my recent trip to China. I gather my cohorts, all fives of them, on a very cramped Mercedes to travel at 4am throughout the entirety of Bolinas region. During my hike to up to Mount Tamalpais, I entered the restroom to prepare for the 13 miles hike ahead. Whilst in the lavatory, minding my own business, I suddenly hear a distant sound of Metallica Enter Sandman slowly approaching my area. Shocked, and perhaps even perturbed, I look over to see my good friend Ryan, whom I had a lot of respect for --not anymore, carrying a Bose speaker attached to his backpack blasting his own theme song in the urinal. Bewildered, I washed my hand only to hear Enter Sandman by Metallica even louder as the speakers now faces outward as it is attached to his backpack. I hurriedly tried to disassociate with my fellows out of shame. My effort was in vain however, as throughout the entire 13 miles hike, I was chased by ever increasing volume of metal and industrial music. God awful, I have chosen poor companies for my nature exploration trip. I also had distinctive memory of some random frat guys with their own speakers meeting our group, and it was like two territorial animals fighting over the serene atmosphere of the glorious mountain with verbose and obnoxious music. It was a halfway decent trip.

After looking in a mirror, this dude decided he needed a haircut.

The dude drove to the nearest barber shop, called The Hungry Barber.

He sat down in a leather seat, and up behind him came a tall, slender man.

“Hello sir.”

No this sucks.

Time to discuss education.

No, I meant Ed Uccasion.

Ed Uccasion brutally ripped a fart in this random house, murdering the whole family.

He was arrested on October 27th. By that I mean today (as I’m writing this. Hi!)

The witness (there’s only one) said this:

“Ruff, bark, boff boff, bark, ruff, whimper.”

Or in french:

Comment voulez-vous que je le sache, je suis un chien!

Or spanish:

¿Cómo esperas que sepa, soy un perro?

Not english because no.

Anyway, they used tis evidence to transport the witness, Fido, to Antartica, where he promptly died.

Previously:

A family reunion brought old wounds to the surface, Michael's jealousy spiralled, and Mitchell took a risky turn.

Episode 16 Preview:

As hope for one family builds, hope spreads thin for another. Elsewhere, as a marriage hangs in the balance, Kylie makes a life changing discovery that leaves her in shock. And, Michael comes to terms with his true feelings.

19/01/1999 | Tuesday

———

03:11AM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Downstairs in the shop, is dark and quiet. Almost pitch black. Except for the orange glow from the streetlights outside slightly peeking its way through the barred windows and caged front door.

And the constant quiet hum of the fridges and freezers in the shop. Doing their job constantly.

Michael sits on the floor, leaning back against the counter, crying. And drinking.

A bottle of Jack Daniels almost empty in his right hand, his other hand wiping tears on his drunk face. He sniffles, crying about himself. About his life. About who he is and what he wants.

Not that he does know what he wants...

———

05:23AM. Flat 34, Marlas Flats, Marlas Estate. Mitchell's Flat

———

Mitchell's fast asleep in his bed, where he and Alex both fell asleep after having extremely intoxicated intercourse. He's snoring away, still in yesterday's clothes. Reeking of booze and heartbreak.

His flat is all in darkness. Quiet too. Except for the usual noise outside in the estate below.

SLAM!

He jolts wide awake and sees that Alex is gone

Mitchell: "Alex...?" He quietly groans

He slowly gets up, body feeling like concrete

He walks out of his room and down the small hallway

Mitchell: "Alex?" He rubs his eyes

And turns into the living room to see it slightly turned over

He's been robbed

His eyes stretch fully awake now

Mitchell: "Alex!?"

Things have been moved and thrown about. It's a mess. Not a devastation like what happened at number 33 though.

He runs deeper into the living room and starts scanning and scrambling through the mess.

Slowly, he notices small things missing. Things aren't where they used to be. Things like loose change, accessories, some shoes, fags, small stuff like that.

He sprints to the front door, yanks it open–

Mitchell: "ALEX!" he shouts down the hall

He takes a few steps down one direction of the hallway

Mitchell: "ALEX!" he shouts again

And somewhere from someone's nearby flat, someone shouts; "SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Mitchell rolls his eyes and sighs, disappointed about what's happened. He walks back into his flat and slams the door shut behind him. Echoing fown the hall.

———

11:19AM. Number 27. The Slater Residence. Living Room.

———

On one of the two three seater green sofas, Georgina lies tangled and weaved in and out of the thick duvet, asleep and in last night's clothes too. Hungover from her night out with Kylie.

Her makeup is smudged and clothes reek of booze.

On the other sofa, sits Kelly and Danielle, both quietly chatting and eating cereal.

The noise from the kitchen is loud though. Same as yesterday. Chatter, cooking, music and laughter.

SMASH!

Someone can be heard dropping a mug on the kitchen floor

Georgina sturs awake and her eyes flutter open and she groans like a zombie

She turns around on her side and faces the living room

Danielle: "Fucking Hell" she laughs

Kelly: "Good night last night was it?" She teases

Georgina: "From what I remember" she jokes as she slowly sits up

Kelly and Danielle look at each other

Georgina leans forward and rubs her face with her hands

Georgina: "God it's bright..." she whispers

Then, Julie walks in from the hallway, out from the kitchen

Julie: "Oh! So you are alive?" She teases

Georgina: "Don't start" she mutters under her breath

Julie: "Here, I brought you a cuppa. Presuming you can keep it down. Good for hangovers they are"

Julie places the cup of tea on the coffee table in the middle of the room

Georgina: "Cheers sis" she whispers and winces her eyes

Julie looks her sister up and down

Julie: "I don't know how mam and dad deal with you" She smirks

Georgina: "That's why I got my own flat innit. Get out of their hair"

Kelly: "You always look like a corpse after a night out?"

Georgina: "Hey, that's a sign of a good night out that is. And you think I'm bad? I dread to see what Kylie's like"

Julie: "Oh God. Why? What did you do?"

Georgina: "She only had a few drinks and she came chucking up all over me"

The other's faces wince

Georgina: "Couldn't even keep a kebab down afterwards"

———

11:43AM. Number 41. Maureen's Home.

———

On the sofa in Maureen's living room, Kylie is in the same state as Georgina. If not, worse.

Theres a bucket on the floor by the side of the sofa, with some sick in it.

Maureen stands in the kitchen, drinking tea and having some breakfast.

Kylie slowly sits up and slouches into the kitchen and walks up to the sink

Maureen: "Blimey"

Kylie: "I feel worse than I look" she whispers

Maureen: "Gathered that" she giggles

Kylie washes her face with cold tap water

Maureen: "Want any–"

Kylie: "For the love of God dont say breakfast"

Maureen: "I'll take that as a no" she smiles and sits at the small table

Kylie leans against the kitchen sink

Maureen: "I dread to ask, but what did you two get up to last night?"

Kylie: "Not that much. We just went bar crawling really. I almost pulled too. But then threw up all over Georgina's shoes"

Maureen's face winces

Kylie: "I know. I dont know why, but i can't handle my drink anymore like I used to. Only recently. For the past week or so, i feel sick all the time"

Maureen: "Might need to get you checked out, is it?"

Kylie: "Yeah, maybe"

———

1:19PM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

Behind the counter, Yvonne is fiddling with a clipboard and a pen, while Michael restocks a shelf in the far corner of the small shop.

Although his back is to her, he can feel eyes on him. After he finishes stocking up a shelf with cleaning products, he picks an empty box up and turns to face the counter where he and his wife make eye contact for a second.

Yvonne speaks up

Yvonne: "Where'd you get off to last night?"

She asks quietly

Michael ignores her and puts the empty box in the store room, and grabs another full box of produce

He walks back in the shop

Yvonne: "Michael? Michael im talking to—"

Michael: "What do you care?" He asks bluntly, heading to finish stocking up a shelf

Yvonne walks from out behind the counter and walks up to him

Yvonne: "I care because im your wife"

Michael: "And thats how you speak to your husband is it? By laughing in his face and telling him you don't want kids with him" he sarcastically asks

Yvonne: "I...you caught me off guard okay? I just didnt expect it. Its nothing that we really spoke about before. I didn't know what to say" she says

Michael: "So you make me feel like I'd be a terrible father, is that it?"

Yvonne sighs

Yvonne: "Look, im sorry. Okay? I really am. What i said– it was wrong. I was just scared..."

Michael: "Scared?" He turns to her

Yvonne: "W– well yeah..."

Michael: "Why?"

Yvonne: "Kids. Its a big thing. No? And we're not exactly flush with cash. Kids are expensive"

Michael: "Yeah...suppose. Why would you want a kid with me anyway?" He digs at her, before turning back to the shelf

Yvonne goes to speak again but the bell jingles above the door and Yvonne takes that as her queue to walk away

She walks past Sunita who's in the fridge grabbing butter, milk and sausages

Seconds after Yvonne steps behind the counter again, Sunita walks up go the counter, pushing her black glasses further up on her nose

Sunita: "Afternoon Yvonne darling. You okay? I sense a...weird energy"

Yvonne: "Hi Sunita. Yeah. Yeah I'm..."

She sighs

Yvonne: "I'm fine" she starts grabbing Sunita's items and scanning them

Sunita checks behind her and whispers to Yvonne

Sunita: "How's things with..." she nods at her stomach

Yvonne looks at Michael at the back of the shop, who's in a world of his own

Yvonne: "I made an appointment yesterday morning for an abortion" she whispers

Sunita nods

Sunita: "You sure you want to go through with it?" She whispers

Yvonne: "What other choice have I got?" She jokingly whispers

Sunita: "Yvonne, darling. You always have a choice. Always"

Yvonne listens

Sunita: "Just like you have a choice to tell—"

Yvonne: "I'm not telling him Sunita. We're already in a bad place as it is and we dont need anything else driving a wedge between us right now" she cuts her off

Sunita: "A baby will do that? Really? Think about it sweetheart. Maybe a baby is—"

Yvonne: "A baby is not what we need, Sunita. Okay?" She quietly asks

Sunita nods

Sunita: "Okay. Im sorry" she whispers

Yvonne: "Don't be. You're just looking out for me" she quietly smiles at her

Yvonne rings the receipt up.

Yvonne: "That's four seventy five please"

Sunita fishes out the money from her patterned fabric purse and hands it to Yvonne.

Sunita whispers: "When is your appointment?"

Yvonne: "Tomorrow. At four o'clock" she whispers

Sunita gasps quietly

Sunita: "Tomorrow?? Lord that's quick"

Yvonne nods and looks down at the counter

Yvonne: "I know" she whispers

Theres a question that Sunita has trouble asking, but she manages

Sunita: "Would...would you like me to go with you? For support..." she asks quietly

Yvonne: "No. No thank you Nita. Thank you anyway though. It means a lot. Really. I just...i think its something that i have to do alone. You know? But thank you" she smiles quietly

Sunita: "Of course darling. Im here anytime" she places her hand on Yvonne's before leaving the shop

———

2:03PM. Victoria Arms Pub.

———

The pub is quiet, only a few locals seated here and there.

Behind the bar is Eddie and Jenna. Jenna's serving Jim a pint while Eddie is drying glasses with a cloth before putting them on the overhead rack.

Jenna: "Here we are Jim"

Jim: "Cheers" he mutters

Jenna slowly walks up to Eddie and smiles

Jenna: "You okay?"

Eddie: "Yeah. Fine thank you darling" he smiles back at her

A long silence sits there, like there's something they both want to say

Jenna: "You know you can talk to me, yeah?"

Eddie: "I know" he nods and smiles

Eddie: "Thank you lovely. Same goes for you"

Jenna nods and goes to walk away

Jenna: "Oh also–" she turns back to facing him

Jenna: "You used to do food here didn't you?"

Eddie: "Yeah. Donkeys years ago. Why?"

Jenna: "Well i was thinking, my mum's looking for work and she has loads of experience in the kitchen. Even some in this pub's kitchen. She did the buffet for the estate's 30th didnt she. And well...i was thinking, why dont we make a menu or something. Sunday roasts, breakfasts maybe, stuff like that"

Eddie: "Wow look at you going! You've only been working here a few days and already talking about 'we' and what have you!" He giggles

Jenna: "Oh, sorry. I thought– I was just trying– sorry if I overstepped" she awkwardly giggles

Eddie: "No no. You didnt. I actually like it. You're taking initiative. Its impressive. Bold" he smiles

Jenna: "Yeah?" Her face lights up a bit

Eddie: "Yeah"

They smile at each other

Eddie: "Tell you what, the kitchen could do with some staff again. Could do with getting some cobwebs blown off too. So, why dont you, and your mum if she's interested, make a list of menu's or something. Jot some ideas down and run them by me when you're finished, and we can come up with something" he smiles

Jenna: "Aw great! Thanks Eddie!"

Eddie: "Don't mention it!" He giggles softly

———

3:15PM. St Anne's Hospital. Jamie's Room.

———

The afternoon is grey and still. Nicola sits beside Jamie's bed, her coat folded over the back of the chair, her eyes swollen and red. She hasn't bothered fixing her hair. Barry sits beside her, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. Neither has spoken for several minutes. The steady beeping of the monitor fills the silence.

Nicola gently strokes Jamie's hand.

Nicola: "He's so cold."

Barry: "He's alright, love."

Nicola: "He doesn't feel alright."

Barry looks at his son. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. He reaches for Nicola's shoulder instead, pulling her towards him. She leans into him, her face crumpling against his shirt.

Nicola: "I just want him to wake up."

Barry: "I know. Me too"

Nicola: "I can't keep doing this, Barry."

Barry closes his eyes. He presses his lips to the top of her head, holding her tightly, but his own face is wet.

A quiet knock interrupts them. The doctor steps inside, carrying a clipboard.

Doctor: "Mr and Mrs Jenkins. I wanted to give you a quick update."

Nicola sits upright immediately, wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand. Barry takes her hand beneath the edge of the bed.

Doctor: "There's been no significant change in Jamie's condition. He's stable at the moment, but he's still critically ill and remains unconscious."

Nicola: "So that's good, isn't it? That he's stable?"

Doctor: "It's better than seeing him deteriorate, certainly. But it doesn't tell us whether he's going to recover. We need to give him more time."

Barry: "How much more?"

Doctor: "I'm afraid I can't answer that. We'll continue monitoring him closely, but for now, we're waiting to see how he responds."

Nicola: "And...if he doesn't respond?"

The doctor pauses. He looks at Jamie, then back at her.

Doctor: "It's too early to draw any conclusions. I know that's not the answer you want, and I'm sorry."

Nicola nods, staring at him as though she's waiting for him to say something else. Something that will make all of this mean something. But he doesn't.

Barry: "Right. Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor leaves quietly.

Nicola looks back at Jamie. Her shoulders begin to shake, but she makes no sound. Barry pulls his chair closer and wraps an arm around her, resting his cheek against her hair.

Nicola: "We're no further forward, are we?"

Barry doesn't answer straight away.

Barry: "Don't think so love."

She takes Jamie's hand again, holding it against her chest.

Barry sits beside her, staring at his son, unable to promise her anything.

The monitor beeps.

Outside, the afternoon carries on. While the Jenkins family are fractured and barely hanging on by a thread.

———

4:17PM. St Anne's Hospital. Katie's Sick Bay.

———

At her bedside, sits Arthur, Gillian and Julie. Chatting away with Katie. A warm familiarity.

They've been here a while.

Katie's just filling them all in on what the doctors have planned for her.

Katie: "So yeah. They said its half an hour every day to start off with, and they said I'll have loads of support like railings and crutches and someone to hold onto and whatever, and then the better I get, the longer the session will take until I can walk properly again"

Arthur: "Ah fair play Katie, love"

Gillian: "Well done sweetheart"

Julie takes her daughter's hand and winks at her

Julie: "You'll be okay" she smiles

Katie: "I know. Just can't wait to get out of here" she smiles with a sigh

———

5:27PM. Number 41. Maureen's Home.

———

In the living room, Kylie sits on the sofa with her feet up, absentmindedly watching EastEnders, while Maureen prepares to pop to the shop.

She's at the door, putting her coat on and getting her trolley ready.

Maureen: "You sure you don't want anything now Kylie love?"

Kylie: "Nah ta. Thanks anyway" she says back

Maureen: "Alright then. I'll be fifteen"

Kylie: "Bye"

The front door closes and Kylie waits a few seconds before getting up, rushing over to the window and watches Maureen head down the street towards the Strip.

And as soon as Maureen's out of sight, Kylie runs upstairs and onto the landing, and then into the bathroom.

She bends down and forward and reaches her hand behind the toilet tank and pulls out a small blue plastic bag.

She then sits down on the toilet and opens the bag, and pulls out a small white rectangular box that says "Clearblue" on it.

Its a pregnancy test.

At the sight of the box, her heart starts pounding and she can feel her chest shake. Her whole body actually.

———

5:36PM. The Strip. Shawcross General Shop.

———

The shop is very quiet. Apart from the humming if the fridges and machinery. Yvonne is sat behind the counter and Michael is more or less walking around, looking for things to do. He's out of his mind. Mind racing about...everything

He's looking for anything to keep him occupied.

Eventually, he walks over to the counter and up to Yvonne.

Yvonne: "You okay?" She asks quietly

Michael: "Yeah" he says quietly

Michael: "You dont mind if I go out to the pub do you?" He asks quietly, in a gloomy tone

Yvonne clearly doesn't want him to but she puts his request first

Yvonne: "Yeah..." she sighs

Yvonne: "yeah go on then"

Michael: "Alright" he mutters, before heading to the door, taking his coat off the rack and right as he's about to open the door, it opens anyway, and Maureen walks in.

Maureen: "Alright Michael?" She asks politely, making small talk

Michael: "Yeah. Great" he mutters in a moody tone as he brushes past her and out the door

The door shuts behind them as Maureen steps into the shop and Michael walks towards the pub

Maureen: "Bloody Hell what's gotten into him?" She asks Yvonne who's sat behind the counter, exhausted

Yvonne: "...Don't know" she mutters. Even though she does know. Well...sort of.

———

5:49:PM. Number 41. Maureen's Home.

———

Upstairs in the bathroom, Kylie is pacing slowly. She then checks the time on her flip phone and sees that its been at least 22 minutes.

She gathers up the courage, inhales, sighs, and then walks up to the toilet tank where she put the pregnancy test face down.

After taking a deep breath, she picks it up, and turns it over.

Positive

She's pregnant.

Fuck...nonononono...what am I going to do???

Downstairs, the door opens and Maureen shouts up;

Maureen: "Kylie! I'm back!"

Kylie's stomach drops and she gets goosebumps. In a flash decision, she drops the pregnancy test in the small bin in the corner of the room, and covers it with some toilet paper and buries it with whatever's already in there.

Kylie: "Coming!"

———

8:47PM. The Victoria Arms Pub.

———

The pub is buzzing with its evening scene.

Loud music, people at the pool table, people at the dartboard, and people jotted around.

At the bar, Michael is already steaming. Barely able to speak a full sentence.

He finishes another drink. His seventh, at least.

He holds the glass up to the air without even looking up

Michael: "Ed! Ed! Edaaaayy!"

Eddie walks over to Michael quickly

Eddie: "Alright alright! Careful mate, keep it down. What is it? Same again?" He asks quietly

Michael: "Yup"

As Eddie starts pouring Michael's drink he notices the state Michael's in

Eddie: "You alright man? What's gotten into you?"

Michael: "Noth— nothing. Im fine. Fine, me. Why d'you ask?"

Eddie: "Have you seen yourself for starters? You barely come in here much and for the past few days, especially yesterday and today, you're knocking them back like there's no tomorrow"

Jenna: "You're giving Jim a run for his money" she jokingly chimes in

But Michael ignores her

Michael: "I...I dont know man. Im all over the place right now" he barely manages to say

Eddie: "Yeah. I can see that" he hands him the pint

Michael starts getting emotional

Michael: "I...I think me and Yvonne might be done" he sniffles

Eddie: "What? Why? What makes you say that?" He asks caringly

Michael: "I- i dont know. I don't...I dont know anything anymore. What makes her happy...what makes me happy...I forgot– we forgot how to be happy. I– I just miss her. I miss the way we used to be before we would fight all the time about God knows what..." he struggles to get his point across

Eddie watches him and listens. And realises that he and Michael aren't in such different boats after all.

Eddie: "Let me ask you something"

Michael looks up from the bar

Eddie: "What makes you happy, Michael? What keeps you...happy? Excited? What helps you from hitting the bottle and drowning your sorrows? Because i can tell you now, that finding your answers at the bottom of a glass won't get you too far"

Michael: "I...that's why im in this mess..."

Eddie: "What you mean?" He asks quietly

Michael: "Because i dont know anything anymore" he whimpers

Eddie: "Shhh sh sh. Come on. You're okay man. Come on. Perk up" he whispers to him.

Eddie: "Look, just try. Okay? That's all you can do, is try"

Michael: "Try what?"

Eddie: "Try whatever it is that makes you happy. And if it doesn't work, find something else. And you keep looking. You keep trying. Something's bound to" he smiles at him

Michael listens and nods

Eddie: "And when you find what makes you happy, help Yvonne find what makes her happy. Be happy, together"

Michael nods

Michael: "You know what...i– I think you're right" he slurs with a drunken smile

Eddie: "Yup. I always am" he sarcastically smiles

Michael gets up off the stool and almost falls but catches himself by holding onto the bar

Michael: "I'm okay. Im fine. Cheers for the drinks Eddie" he says politely before stumbling his way out of the pub

Eddie: "You're welcome. Any time mate! And be careful on your way home yeah!?"

Michael doesn't hear him, he's already out the door.

Jenna turns to him with a small smile

Jenna: "That was very nice of you. Fair play" she says with a soft smile

Eddie: "I kind of get how the bloke feels. I feel for him"

That sounds more sad than intended but he covers it with a sincere smile

Jenna smiles back

———

9:09PM. Number 41. Maureen's Home.

———

In the kitchen, Kylie and Maureen are both sat at the table, having a late dinner. Mash, gravy, peas and carrots.

They're both sat at the kitchen table and Maureen is chatting away about what happened when she went to the shop earlier, yapping about how tense things seemed between Michael and Yvonne and how awkward things seemed.

But Kylie is far, far away in her own world, not listening or taking in a word that Maureen is saying. Everything sounds muffled and she's daydreaming.

She's in a shock–like state. Mind reeling about what happened in the bathroom upstairs, not long ago.

I'm...pregnant

———

9:47PM. Downtown Streets. Near Pandora's Box Gay Bar.

———

The streets are loud and hectic with party-goers and traffic. With music, chatter and laughter spilling in and out from wherever.

Michael stumbles off a bus and onto a busy street where pubs and a few clubs seem to be bustling.

He walks up to a group of young lads outside a chippy

Michael: "Uh– excuse me! Do- d'you know where Pandora's...uh...Pandora's–"

"Pandora's Box?"

One of the young lads asks

Michael: "Yeah! Where is it?"

They all laugh at him

"Its right there mate" one of them says, pointing across the street and to the right a bit

"Dirty fucker" one of them mutters under his breath

Michael: "Th– thank- thank you!" He shouts, running across the road

—

As he crosses the road he almost gets hit by a passing car but doesn't seem to notice. Or care.

He eventually makes his way into the overflowing gay bar. The music is absolutely thumping the walls and in people's chests.

The air is full of smoke, sweat and breath that smells of booze. Purple, red and blue lights beam people in the face and strobe lights dance across the room, along with men and women all dressed in fabulous outfits. This is a world that Michael is not used to. But yet here he is.

He sees some young athletic men dancing on two poles at the far back of the bar.

His heart drops and he starts pushing his way through the crowd, almost crying. Almost in tears.

Michael: "Mitchell!"

He pushes his way through with force

Michael: "Mitchell! Mitch—"

Michael: "Mitchell!" He eventually gets to the poles and he sees a young lad who looks a spit of Mitchell.

He runs up onto the small platform and grabs the dancer by the arm

Michael: "Mitchell–" the dancer stops, turns and looks at Michael.

Its not Mitchell.

"Get the fuck off me!" The dancer pushes Michael back into the crowd so hard that Michael falls flat onto the floor.

A burst of deep laughter erupts from the crowd

Michael gets up slowly, embarrassed but dedicated to find Mitchell

Michael: "S- sorry! Sorry..."

He then pushes his way through the crowd again, to the bar this time, where a young man in his early thirties with short dark brown hair and a small name tag "Reese" on his black shirt, is serving someone a cocktail.

Michael: "Excuse me!"

Reese doesn't notice

Michael: "Hey! Hello!? HEY!!"

Reese turns to him with a smile

Reese walks up to him

Reese: "Hiya mate what can I get ya!?" He shouts to Michael over the music

Michael: "Is there a Mitchell Thomas here!?"

Reese: "Who!?"

Michael: "Where's Mitchell!?"

Reese: "Mitchell Thomas!?"

Michael: "Yeah!"

Reese: "You'll have to wait a few minutes mate, he just went back there with a customer!" He nods to the curtain that hides a deep red lit, narrow hallway.

Michael sees the curtain and the deep saturated red light peeking through into the main bar. And immediately he knows what kind of stuff goes on back there...

Again, he starts pushing his way through the crowd

Reese: "You can't go in there without a dancer!" He shouts after Michael

But Michael doesn't turn back, he keeps going.

He eventually reaches the curtain, quickly pulls it aside and slips in

The red swallows him whole and on either side of the hallway are small dark rooms, that are also curtained over

From most of them, moaning, groaning and all sorts can be heard

He pulls back the first curtain–

Michael: "Mitchell!?"

No Mitchell

A man pulls the curtain back shut

Michael keeps walking

Michael: "Mitchell!? Mitchell!?"

After pulling back two more curtains of random men having sex

He finally reaches a curtain and when he pulls it back, he finds Mitchell. Giving it to some older bloke in his fifties from behind.

The older guy is almost screaming and Mitchell doesn't even see Michael there at first

Michael: "Mitchell...?" He asks quietly in shock

As soon as Mitchell hears and sees Michael, he stops, and pulls out of the older bloke.

Mitchell: "Woah– Michael!"

Michael's stomach drops and starts legging it out of the red hallway, and back into the crowded bar room. Where there's sweaty bodies dancing and bumping around together.

He pushes his way through the crowd, yet again–

Mitchell calls after him but he keeps on rushing his way through

Michael can feel himself retching, and he finally makes it back onto the street where the cold night air hits him in the face

———

9:56PM. Outside Pandora's Box Gay Bar

———

He stumbles out onto the pavement outside the club, runs to a drain against the wall and throws up.

He retches, and throws up again. A few onlookers watch and wince. While others laugh.

Mitchell walks up to him

Mitchell: "You're okay..." he says quietly, trying to comfort him

He goes to rub his back but Michael pushes him off.

After he finishes throwing up and takes a few breaths, he turns around and faces Mitchell

Mitchell: "I'm..." he whispers

Thinking about apologising

But–

BAM

Michael lands a punch straight in his face and sends him spinning

A few people gasp, others laugh and some cheer

Mitchell: "What the fuck was that for!?"

Michael goes to walk away

He takes a few steps down the busy street but Mitchell runs after him

Mitchell stops him and pulls him and turns him around

Mitchell: "Oi! Stop! Michael!"

He turns him around and sees the state he's in

Mitchell: "Jesus..."

Michael: "What? WHAT!? You happy? Ey? You done this! YOU!"

Mitchell: "Why did you come here, looking for me?" He asks quietly, while music thumps from the club behind them

Michael: "I dont– I dont know! I dont- i- i–" he starts hysterically crying

Mitchell is shocked. He'd never seen Michael like this

He pulls him in for a hug and Michael tries to fight him off

Michael: "I– I– I...I.......I......."

Mitchell holds his face with both hands and Michael holds his arms

They look at each other...

Michael: "I...I love you...." he whispers, he says looking directly into Mitchell's eyes. Michael's eyes red raw from crying and tears running down his face

A long intense silence stands between them both, with the sounds of nightlife surrounds them. Cheering, laughter, music, traffic, the usual.

But right here, right now, it just them two. And the truth. No matter how wrong or right it is.

Mitchell: "Finally..." he whispers with a big smile

Mitchell: "I love you too..."

They both stand there, hands holding onto each other, while the world moves around them, they're both still. In each other's eyes.

With a long, long road ahead of them...

———

And thats episode 16! I really hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading this far and as always any and all comments are much appreciated! Episode 17 will be out soon! ☺️

I believe this goes under help category also.

My fiancee received dick picks for 3 months .

So we started drawing hats, sombreros, caps, Stetsons, Christmas hats, you name it and we added to his tiny willy..

This lasted almost 3 months and we send these modified pics back to him and because we were quite certain who this Finn was, and he proud of his circa 8cm ( circa 12 inch 🍆 in full parade stand mind you )

We send him his picks back with hats attached, almost 3 months and we did not just added hats, we place his willy in all over world. Washington., New York, Istanbul, feeding reindeers in finnish Lappland with caption not a carrot although same color..

Australian cost where fishing community asked to replicate his willy for better fish luck ( apparently looked like bass favorite worm bate)

Eventually he blocked us and called us sickos. That was really unrealistic and fucked up thoughts. ( mind you, he was sending dick pics to stranger with no provocation ja one week of askinghim to stop!)

Did we went too far?

Their names were Mortimer and Jenkins.

Twin engines pulled out of Volkswagen Rabbits and stuck on the main raft with propellers to give us whatever two rabbits works out to in horsepower. I'd only been on board a day or two when I was recruited to swap out a CV joint on one of them, Jenkins I believe it was. I'm not much of a mechanic but there wasn't too much to it beyond a few bolts and the old righty-tighty lefty-loosie.

Of course it helped immensely that the pair of them were situated al fresco - I don't think I would have fared as well up to my elbows in rusting out auto body.

We were trying to get ship shape for a trip through the last lock and dam into the environs of Saint Louis. There had already been doubts expressed by the Coast Guard, the arbiters of riparian law, as to our ability to safely navigate the river and they'd had us pull off a couple figure eights and similar maneuvers like a field sobriety test on a Brobdingnagian scale.

Not that it meant much, once we cleared that last lock and dam we'd be on the Lower Mississippi, a different beast entirely than the relatively placid upper reaches. If that wasn't bad enough, a seasonal detour around the Chain of Rocks meant that we'd find ourselves downriver from our destination and would somehow have to fight our way upstream. At least we wouldn't have to attempt this feat under our own steam - the Coast Guards had magnaminously offered to help us with a tow.

The rafts were of diverse shapes and sizes like a strange pod of assorted whales and dolphins, but after a prophetic dream was visited upon one of our shipmates we'd been undertaking longer trips in tandem, lashed together in what was dubbed "Voltron Mode". This was all well and good for drifting downstream but it probably wasn't the best way to take a shot at being dragged up it.

C'est la vie. You live and you learn, as they say.

Let's set the scene by briefly going over the nautical terms for the different sides of a boat, for those that might not be familiar. Pretend you're the vessel in question: your nose is the bow, your butt's the stern and your left and right hands are port and starboard respectively. If you've followed this far and can tie a half hitch you're already about as salt of a sailor as I was.

I was on the engine raft, and don't fully recollect the positions of all the auxiliary pieces, but all together it made for something of a swimming city and a fair bit of drag. The Coast Guard had made a noose out of chain and wrapped it around our bow, and from this one point they endeavored to pull the whole assemblage. We fired up our assorted smaller outboards, for what they were worth, and a friendly fisherman had thrown in to help push with his aluminum jon boat on the starboard side.

Things got off to a good start but took a turn when we had to pass under a bridge and the current accelerated between the pylons. For several minutes the various forces amounted to a stalemate, equal and opposing, and we neither gained nor lost ground. When the shit hit the fan it did so both fore and aft.

Mortimer and Jenkins had been sitting silently up to this point, but now we tried to coax them to life in an effort to break the tug of war, well actually just Jenkins as Mortimer was apparently out of commission. Jenkins wasn't faring a whole lot better and me and her chief engineer, one Ellery Neon, were feverishly working the choke valve to get her to turn over.

At this precise moment the chain collar, unable to pull the rafts forward, instead pulled the bow underwater which washed out the contents of several crew member's cubbies. As fate would have it one of these belonged to Ellery Neon and contained a chunky pair of platforms he used in drag performances. A shoe collided with Jenkins' propeller just as it started to turn.

There was a sick sound of rending metal as the shaft bent at an unnatural angle and a black cloud of oil rose to the water's surface.

This all transpired on the starboard side, and a stray piece of line also found its way to the motor on the jon boat, fouling that propeller as well albeit less permanently. Over on the port side Santiago, one of several aspiring photographers, was standing in a small skiff and endeavored to come to our side to render some form of aid. An error was made in untying him and the small boat spun helplessly and sank around his ankles, causing him to desparately clamber on board the larger raft for safety.

Amid these smaller disasters came a larger one, the Coast Guard's tow line snapped and the rafts finally sprung to motion, rushing toward one of the concrete pylons.

While it was the fastest, it was not the first time something like this had happened, and various poles lay about the deck for the purpose of fending, or pushing away, from such obstacles. A call went out for all hands to take up poles and prepare to fend but the Coast Guard had other ideas:

"Bely that order! Grab the most solid thing you can find toward the center of the raft and brace for impact!"

It was probably a safer idea, all things considered, but miraculously the impact never came. They were able to attach a second tow line in a manner of seconds but this time around any attempt at forward progress was abandoned. Instead we were deposited back on the very East Saint Louis beach we'd started from that morning, the first of many groundhog days.

The plan to cross the highway was discarded almost the instant he had formulated it. In truth, he was pretty tired. So, instead of crossing the road and exploring around for a spot, he decided he would stay this side of it and use a spot he had hung out in before though not sleep in. It was a little hollow with a naturally occurring trail leading gently down a slope to a spot between four trees that was perfect for chilling, sleeping and all around vibing. It had its fair share of concealment too. Important consideration if he wished to have a small pit fire. The darkness was starting to settle now. Directly into his pores. The good kind of dark. The kind that signals completion. Time for rest. Time for contemplation. His day had been one for the books. A good day. But one that had a somberness as well that sat just under the surface of his present consciousness. She was always there it seemed. Even when she wasn't. At the moment though, it was time to get down to the hollow, unpack, and get vibing. He was looking forward to it.

He made his arrangements with an eye for both comfort and an eye for quick evacuation if need be. There was an avenue of escape that went further down the slope away from the main trail into deeper and thicker bush. He had actually timed his ability to leave a spot rapidly. WITH, key point here, everything he would need for an indeterminate period of evasiveness and getting away from any human fuckery he may encounter out in the woods. He had it down to 75 seconds. Too long still if surprised by, oh I don't know, meth heads or land owners or general fucktard types. You just never knew what could happen when away from the obvious social and legal dictates of the asphalt and neon hellscape that we all take for granted. AND believe is normal human living conditions. Here to tell you folks. Not normal. LOL. But he did not figure on there being any trouble tonight. And with that in mind, he had decided in a microsecond that yes, indeed yes, he would consume more edible, drink an energy drink and do some serious contemplative type thinking on his whole existence. He would think on spiritual matters. He would think on material matters. He would think on a multitude of matters pertaining to, well, nothing at all that dealt with him on a practical, day to day basis. That was the fun of it. Getting that fucking high and just letting the carnival happen cerebrally speaking was sometimes a riot. Sometimes a net fucking gain serotonin wise.

And so it went for almost an hour. He was relaxed. High as hell. Drinking some primo go juice and staring at the moon through a beautiful wide view of the sky through the canopy above. A three quarter moon tonight. Did not know the difference between waxing or waning. Did not care really. But he did take very serious the presence of the goddesses of old when out in the moonlight. He preferred to live in alignment with their favor rather than against it. The moon was their beacon. Their signal to humankind that they were here among us and have much to say if one has the ear for listening. Hecate. The Morrigan. Lillith. Many many more. He understood what mortal men had done to minimize their influence in earthly matters when the patriarchy was set up long ago. And he wanted no part of it. The goddesses could be vengeful. They do not like being scorned. The moon shone and the goddesses lived. Case fucking closed on that one. He paid his respects. He tipped his energy drink up to the moon and paid tribute to the divine feminine in us all. Whether you were a truck driver. A bouncer. A mailman. Or prided yourself on being the biggest, baddest alpha in a room full of big, bad wannabe alphas, you possessed both divine masculine and divine feminine within you. Whether or not they were balanced? Well we all know how that is going in today's world. He chuckled. This is how it went when he was very very much in his brain on drugs. The stream of consciousness was eclectic and non motherfucking stop baby.

He was reclined on a barely visible but physically perceptible slope. Hands behind his head. Looking up, ever up, to the stars, the moon and the infinite possibilities of the universe. The goddesses had been thought of. Homage had been paid. Now his thoughts turned to... to... her. And her unbelievable beauty inside and out. Her smile. Her laugh. And her sweet....no...no...no, not tonight. "Can't do that man." he thought. He had to drive her from his mind somehow. They were not really in contact. She was beyond his ragged rim of light right now. She was fighting to maintain her own ragged rim of light. And he fought constantly the full blooded desire to run to her side and hold her against his body and tell her everything will be all right. He must not indulge this. So, quickly, he turned to, predictably for anyone that knew him, the global fucking elites? Specifically, how they controlled the narrative and kept the masses from rising the fuck up and slaying those fascist bastards once and for all. That was a natural progression for him. From unconditional love to revolution. Or the want of it from his perspective anyway. He was thinking on some of the early dudes who had espoused the need to subdue the masses and turn their thoughts and desires to what THEY, the deciders, wanted them to want and desire. It had to be against what their natural instincts would decide for them in the absence of a programmed narrative. The deciders must replace what a rational, sensitive, loving human being would desire, if left to their own devices, with something grotesque. Something lecherous. Conniving. Lustful. And not the good type of lust. No this would be the type of lust that leaves bodies in its wake. The type that believes that it is not enough to gain material advantage in this world and be happy. No, this is the type of lust that is only happy if that their material gain is accompanied by someone else's material loss. And the programming was so so effective. Welcome to 21st century capitalism. Welcome to the financialization of souls dear people. It made him sick to his stomach sometimes.

To the rich it was a game. And he, and basically everyone he had ever met, were pawns in their game. And they were, seemingly, forced to play. Not really. But the programing was so strong that it appeared that way. "More than a pity." he thought. "A fucking one way ticket to extinction probably." It was John D. Rockefeller himself who said, "There would be no game of chess if the pawns refused to play. We cannot let that happen." That was the mindset of the entities they were dealing with. "Fuck." he said aloud. He squirmed in his hi-tech, fast dry, cutting edge microfiber outdoor pants that were so so comfortable that it felt as though he could wear them to a black tie event and not be out of place. It was another of one of those crispy dipped, triple fried, reptilian demons, some high level CIA neanderthal, who said, "When a bird is born in a cage, it thinks that any form of flying is an illness. This is how we must keep it if we want to keep control." And the prophecy of Matthew Chapter 24 Verse 12 becomes more true by the hour, led by our so called superiors. That verse says "And because iniquity shall abound the love of many shall wax cold." A truer statement could not be found anywhere for the times he lived in. And that is why he did not find a spot at the inn in this world. He did not survive to consume. To gluttonize and festoon his soul with the trappings of transitory "success". He did not survive for love. To maybe feel love one day. No. He used love TO survive. He was a divine being. Not a vessel for the propagation of iniquity and corruption of his own soul. He was an exile because he was concerned with eternal life. Not eternal growth of a system that was inanimate. That was dead.

He was feeling proud of himself. Smug even. His moral superiority now firmly in place, he turned his attention to the need for sustenance. For this sleek machine he called a body. He rummaged through his food. He found something sort of appealing. And he settled back against the tree with a slight gasp and a twinge in his... fucking ass muscles? Yep. He felt secure in the knowledge now that he had pulled a muscle on his ass. The left cheek to be precise. That would ache in the morning. And he knew how he did it too. It was wasn't the hiking. The climbing. The bending. It was the fucking high leg kick of his pitching style that he had pulled out of his archives that afternoon when dispensing with the Walnut Grove Anklets. He just had to look like Nolan Ryan. Had to. The Nolan Ryan high leg kick was something he had developed early in his career. And now, now he was going to suffer a sore ass with a kind of long way to go to get back to civilization tomorrow because of it. Whatever. Dude is a legend. Emulate the legends. "Suffer the pain of an ass on fire. I like it like that and I know it." He laughed at his off the cuff take on an old REM lyric. He sat down to eat. A cold wrap. Dry pickles. And? Dunkaroos. Cant be taking drugs like this and not have some kind of ridiculous, nutrionally deficient, high fructose corn syrup, bloody monstrosity like Dunkaroos to get those dopamine levels up. Just can't do it.

It was when he was eating he had heard, in the distance, the telltale sounds of a group of coyotes on the move. The yipping. The almost human sounding laughter? The whining of the junior members of the group. They were moving. They were making a lot of noise. But they were well away off in the distance on his backtrail. Nothing to worry about he thought. And continued eating. It was not long though that an internal alert within him went off. And adrenaline came pouring forth from deep inside him. Barely a minute had elapsed from when he had dispensed mentally of the distant coyote train to when he had leapt to his feet, and stared into the blackness towards the direction he had come and the trail up above him on the slope. He was listening intently. And his body was girding for flight. Immediately. For the sounds were much much closer than they had been not one minute prior. And there was no mistaking the blood lust in the sounds these feral fucking dogs were making. But what were they lusting for? Were they already on something's trail? He did not like this situation. But coyotes? Would they really come after a human? "No way" he thought. "No fucking way." But it sounded like there were quite a few of them. And the proverbial tiger's breath landed firmly on his neck. And he was scared in an instant. The tiger's breath could not be mistaken for summer breeze. Up the slope, on the trail, a group of coyotes had stopped moving as one. They were now moving individually. This way and that. And they stopped yipping. He stood in the darkness paralyzed. Staring up the hill. Listening. His mind had emptied of everything but the now primal urge to escape. He wished he could see her one last time. But everything wonderful seemed far far away at that moment.

In the rising sun, two individuals–male and female, man and woman, boy and girl, sit.

My being is new to this urban district. My feet stand here secured.

I came here in search of silent solitary. And I have found it.

These two persons take a seat upon the stairs in front of a small house–one of many in a row. The owner–who, was an older man, came out.

In a heartbeat, he became puzzled. He scratched his young white bread and fixed his cane, then, he prepared his lips. “Can I help you?”

Those two individuals were motionless. The old man tapped them with his cane. Nothing. They remained still–like historical statues, representing or symbolizing people or ideas. However, this owner . . . knew nothing. Not even a clue or a single tiny hint.

Nor did I–or the neighbors . . . perhaps, no one in this black gaseous itchy sandy city did. All day people would walk up and ask, “you good?” or “lost?” but they never reacted.

Nor did they move. At night, when the beach’s aquatic pulse could be heard, when the urban world lit up the sky–indeed at night, when the world slept . . . they remained.

They sat. Did they eat? Did they talk? Did they sleep? I can’t say.

My solitary ends before sunset. But that man and woman sit down. And stayed.

The owner grew loathsome and complained. Then, he dialed that magical three digital number. Later, two tactical black and white cars rolled in. Four law enforcers came out.

Next, they talked to the sitters. My ears didn’t hear a word of what they’ve asked.

I could only guess. Purpose? Perhaps. ID? Likely.

Yet, there’s something that we all saw coming–their removal. It happened.

The owner and his neighbors and I watched the whole thing.

The city’s eyes were on them. In my place of peace, I left–hit and heartstruck.

My mouth mumbled and murmured. Mixed. Mangled. Mashed.

Yes, I felt awful and ached for those people.

They’ve done nothing. Sat still supporting something. They got nothing.

This tall technical towering town . . . felt something. Yet, we jail them.

How unfortunate. I came back the next day. Shocked. Stunned. Stationary.

The sitters . . . were there. Again. And the old man kept calling 9-1-1.

But them policemen kept tellin’ him those same stupid stories.

“Sorry, the prisons are full.” “Sorry, we’re swamped. –underwater really.”

“Sir. Sir! We’re sorry. That’s not our problem. Try city services.”

But even the city services wouldn’t move the sitters.

And so, the owner ignored them. Through the sun's rise . . . and fall. Day after day.

During every thunderstorm, tornado, hurricane, trouble, and threatening time, that aged individual thought those two would perish. For years he was wrong.

Until . . . It was he who fell ill. And perished. I bared witness–as did the city.

That owner had no one. He died with no heirs to his house. Henceforth,

His house went to the town. Still, those citizens sat there. Regardless.

Afterwards, the urban district became like the old man–harsh and short-tempered.

So much so, the city was ready to attack them, with all their authoritative powers.

Silently. Swiftly. Removed. But this . . . did not happen.

Citizens throughout that particular area took a stand. Or rather . . . a seat.

Some folks from afar in other regions joined in too–including myself.

We challenged this big booming beach beast of urbanization.

We cared about the woman and the man.

We craved victory–they did too. The sitters.

And eventually, we won–those of us who sat.

They deserved it. They owned it. Completely.

Now, city-dwellers all over this region–plus, many others, sit.

Just like those first two sitters did. Why? They won’t say. They’re motionless.

One day . . . something will be theirs. Before, they fall.

Everyday, they’ll sit. Until . . . they’re nothing . . . at all.

"I want you to complete it by five today. And please, don't leave without notifying me again, or I will have to do something about it," Nathan said to Rambo

Rambo looked at him without blinking as he cleared his throat. "Ahem"

"OK, sir," he said before turning back to his computer to finish his work

By five, he had completed his work and notified his boss. Rambo picked up his bag to leave; just then, his friend Jacob, who used to sit next to Rambo every day, stopped him

"Yo, Let's get something to eat, man; it's my last day here after all"

"No, I gotta go home. I am getting late, Jacob; we can meet next week if you want," he replied

"If you want? What the f*** are you talking about, man? Let's go"

"No, Jacob, I don't want to," Rambo replied and left the desk in a hurry

Later that same day. Rambo sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his wall, his eyes wide, as he kept staring at the wall without blinking

"Doesn't matter what I think; objective truths are going to be objective truths. Why will someone love me? Why will someone like me? What do I provide to them? nothing. Why was I born in this accursed world? All I can ever do in this world is to get rich and get love"

His phone rang; it was his father. He picked up the phone slowly and brought it to his ear. "Hello?" Rambo said

"H-hey, listen, I know you are-"

"I am what? different? Not worthy of your love?"

"No, that's not… well, you aren't wrong. Meet me in an hour…"

The kids with their mothers played in the park. A man sat in a wheelchair watching the kids play, as Rambo and his Father (Mehra) sat on a bench in a corner.

"What are you grateful for?" Mehra asked Rambo

Rambo turned towards Mehra to face him. "… I know how it goes. Come on…"

Mehra smiled genuinely. "I am diagnosed with cancer," Mehra said, facing Rambo, and saw Rambo's face turn all red

Rambo looked down at the grass before meeting his father's eyes. "Dad…" and hugged him tightly before pulling his face back and looking at his dad crying; he never saw his dad cry like that.

"Life is hard, Rambo,"

His father said before wiping his own tears.

Rambo looked at him before turning his face away, breathing deeply through his chest.

"What did the doctor say?" Rambo asked. "Incurable, very low chances- that's what he said," Mehra replied

"… I am grateful that you and Mom are still alive… I am grateful that I can walk. I can read books; I am grateful. I am grateful that I have eyes-"

Mehra watched Rambo talk and said, "You are interesting to talk to… I missed it; I wasted my whole life; you are a great son. I am deeply, very, very sorry"

Rambo said nothing as his Father continued, "I am grateful we had this conversation"

The next day,

"My life is only this, just because I wasn't born as a son of a CEO of a company"

Rambo, mixed in his thoughts, noticed Jacob pulling the chair. "Hey, man, I am late," he said and waited for Rambo to react. Rambo looked at Jacob. "So, what's the emergency?" he asked Jacob

Jacob laughed loudly. "I just wanted to meet you, man… after all, we worked in the same place for three years. Come on, we are friends," he said

"Jacob, co-workers are never your friend; that's what you told me," Rambo said to Jacob and continued, "… W-what is your biggest regret in life?" Rambo asked

"That I let go of my childhood friend Morgan," Jacob replied almost instantly

Rambo looked at Jacob as Jacob continued, "And I am trying to fix my mistake man…"

 

Rambo sat in his office chair, his eyes wide as he stared at the computer without blinking. He noticed his boss coming his way; he adjusted his chair slightly and looked at Nathan. "Rambo, in my office, now," Nathan said, and hurried his way to his office.

Rambo knocked on the door before entering; he sat in the chair close to Nathan as Nathan stopped typing on his laptop and faced Rambo

"How would you like a promotion, Rambo?" Nathan said, then added, before Rambo could reply, "I am promoting you to a senior position"

"That's awesome," Rambo smiled and said to Nathan

"You will have four people in your department working under you from now on. Start reading books on leadership, Rambo," Nathan said and smiled as Rambo stood up, thanked Nathan, and went outside.

Rambo's phone rang. He took out his phone to see a message from Jacob: "Tonight, BAR B.Q. plan? Some of my friends are coming too; it will be fun"

"Done," Rambo replied to Jacob

"After tonight, I should also hold a dinner for celebration; I'll call Mom and Dad, and… and… Sarah too…"

So I was told I’m a good storyteller, I want to read you guys stories on my tik tok🥴 what’s some crazy stories all stories will remain anonymous I’m a very not biased person so I will give my honest opinion. NO JUDGE FREE ZONE HERE 🥴. I’m an introvert and wheeww I have some stories to tell but I want to create a platform where we all can be crazy together🤣🤣🤣 so leave it on the floor what’s some stories yall have we gone do different segment this first segment is “ TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE” something you’ve never told anyone and kind of was embarrassed or felt bad about lol we airing it out today🥴

So a few weeks ago, I was playing games with my friends when one of them accidentally shared his screen. I noticed a group chat with pretty much everyone in our friend group except me.
I didn’t say anything because I figured maybe it was just for a game or something.
But then I started noticing little things.
I’d ask if anyone wanted to hang out, and everyone would say they were busy. Then I’d go on Snapchat later and see them all hanging out together.
At first, I thought I was overthinking it, so I just stopped asking.
A few days went by, and nobody really texted me first. That honestly hurt more than I expected.
Then one of my friends randomly texted me asking if I was mad at everyone. I told him I wasn’t mad, but I’d noticed they kept hanging out without me.
He said I was getting the wrong idea and told me to talk to another friend in the group.
So I did.
He told me the group chat was originally made to plan a surprise birthday party for me. Apparently, everyone just kept using it afterward to make plans.
The thing is, my birthday had already passed, and now I was wondering why nobody had thought to include me in anything since then.
I don’t know if they’re telling the truth or just trying to make me feel better.
I haven’t confronted the whole group because I don’t want to start drama if there’s actually an explanation.
But at the same time, it’s hard not to feel like I’m the only one who considers these people close friends.
Am I overthinking this, or would you be upset too?

Boring