Category: random

The evening Bill learned his wife Jana had cancer, he dropped to his knees and begged God, knowing it was wrong. God heard his cries, and Jana was cured.

Satan complained, “That is not how it works.”

“I saw into his heart, his motives were pure,” God countered. “You can see only his mind.”

“Well, he broke the rules,” Satan continued. “Now, he’s mine.”

“Don’t you touch him,” God commanded.

In a huff, Satan answered, “Fine.”

A month later, as Bill lay sleeping in bed next to Jana, Satan slipped into their room and whispered in Bill’s ear. That morning Bill did not awaken, having died of a heart attack.

Bill didn’t mind because he went to Heaven believing that God had answered his prayer.

God and Satan attended Bill’s funeral, where God whispered in Satan’s ear, “You lose again.”

The inflation rate in the U.S. between 1956 and today is 872.36 percent meaning that 100 dollars in 1956 are equivalent to $972.36 in 2021.

We’ve been taught wrongly into believing that inflation is part of a natural cycle in a healthy economy. The keywording is ‘healthy,’ and we haven’t had a healthy economy in decades.

What we have had since 1956 is over-inflation, an economic killer.

Think of it this way: you are at your favorite beach when the tide suddenly drains, rushing out to sea, you can expect a Tsunami. When the ocean floor settles, that tide will become a wall of water, drowning everything from the shoreline to the deeper inland.

Within this last year, we’ve seen a 1.41 percent increase in the inflation rate. Soon, we’ll reach three percent or more, especially if the latest rounds of Congressional money talk, which includes a $220 billion stimulus package, become a reality.

Remember all those stimulus dollars the Fed pumped into the banking system? Those dollars aren’t being used for loans but invested in the stock market.

Once the stimulus monies run dry, we’ll see a financial crash and the U.S. dollar disappear. No country, not even Allied nations, will be willing to trade on our currency.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Someone should start a rumor about a shortage of jobs, that way everyone will rush out to get one.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I never half-ass anything. I either go full-ass or nothing.”

He sat at the table, holding his coffee cup and watching his wife as she ate her breakfast and scrolled through her device. Something was slightly off this morning, but Hank could not put his finger on what it might be.

Instead, he watched, and he thought.

As he finally took a gulp of coffee, it occurred to him that the answer might be within himself. He had awakened a little past three that morning, extremely dizzy.

“Could that be when it happened?” he questioned.

Hank quickly finished his coffee, kissed his wife on the forehead, and went out the door. He knew he’d have time to think as much as he wanted, but the corn would not harvest itself.

My Cousin Elmo says, “Even my latest fortune cookie is offering to renew my trucks extended warranty now.”

I got to thinking about everything I miss in my life and the number of times I’ve reinvented my work self.

I miss being in the Air Force, the Marine Corps, a reserve sheriff deputy, a stuntman, stand-in, paramedic, firefighter, teacher, instructor, cowboy, security officer, radio announcer, disc jockey, presenter, host, and photo lab manager.

These are things I have enjoyed doing to earn a living.

I have been a road manager, auto detailer, nurse tech, gyppo-logger, fisherman, keno writer, house painter, window washer, car salesman, cashier, car wash jockey, and photo lab manager.

Not all jobs are fun, but they do get the bills paid.

All have provided me with experience and experiences.

They are in my past to make room for my future.

The adventure continues…

My Cousin Elmo says, ” I haven’t spoken to my wife in three days. I don’t like to interrupt her.”

My Cousin Elmo says, “I goofed and let go of my wife’s hand and now we own the women’s shoe section at Walmart.”

As I rush to write this narrative, I am also busy researching. The man mentioned a “madman named Mel,” “1978,” and “Venus.”

These three clues lead to a person who was a writer, a musician, and what many people consider a cult leader who developed a following in New England. In 1974, he had predicted that he would “ascend to Venus,” which did not happen.

Four years later, he reportedly died, though no one has ever produced a death certificate or a place of burial discovered.

Even odder, I know a person with the same last name and who hails from the same place as Mad Mel. To further the strangeness, Mad Mel was born in the same hospital as my mother and not far from where I was raise.

Such knowledge leaves me paranoid. Buddy continues to growl and stare off into the distance when we are outside as if he can hear or see something I cannot.

As this happens, I continue searching the Internet, looking for the names “Johanna” and “John.” I worry that I will find their obituaries.

On edge, I feel as if that I am being watched. It is why I wrote this story so quickly and published it in the most public way possible.