Category: random

The loss of a child is to be vilomahed; to go against the natural order of life.

“You’re gonna be locked in here with only that bed and piss-pot until your ransom is paid. I’ll be back in a while with a tray of food. Don’t try and escape. Do you understand?” her kidnapper instructed as he removed the zip-ties that bound her hands.

“Oh, my god! You mean, sleep, food and silence!” she exclaimed.

The masked kidnapper glared at the mother of the three young children.

“I mean – oh, no – that’s bad,” she states, before adding, “And I won’t try and escape, I promise.”

The kidnapped simply shook his head before closing and locking the door.

https://soundcloud.com/tom-darby-79984072/fade

There is a road you must know, living in my home town,
Called Redwood Drive, it will take you both up or down.
No street lamps along the way, in helping you to get by.
Turn east off Highway 101, a fire station to your left side,
An old church at the end, homes numbered seven and five.
Stars do shine with a heavenly grace, so look to the skies,
Those tall trees, absorb ocean breezes, high and low tide.
No finer place can be, filled with recollections, all so alive.
There is no better expanse for growing, learning, to thrive.
O, let us go play before my mind fades of Redwood Drive.

Christopher is my biological child. Below is the original obituary as written by his loving family…

On Saturday, March 16, 2019, our beloved Christopher Sean David passed from this life surrounded by his family at Kalispell Regional Medical Center.

He was born on Dec. 13, 2000, in Reno, Nevada, to Christine Mattingly Hesselman. On June 27, 2004, he and his mother married Charles David. The family moved to Trona, California, and then to Kalispell where, on July 25, 2007, his Daddy Charlie adopted him, making him “officially” Christopher David. A happier boy would have been hard to find!

Christopher attended schools in Kalispell, Polson and Hamilton and will graduate June 2, 2019, from Hamilton High School.

He participated in Christmas plays at Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, “The Night Before Christmas” with Port Polson Players and Special Olympics, earning several medals and awards in swimming, track and bowling. Video games were his favorite and he was good at them.

At 16, he became an organ donor. He would be so very proud to know that his donation has made lives better for possibly 80 people.

Upon leaving the Kalispell Regional Medical Center hospital, Christopher was afforded an Honor Walk through the halls. Doctors estimated that 300 hospital staff, friends and family lined the halls for the walk and that not in 16 years had they seen such a turn out for an Honor Walk.

We wish to thank all who helped Christopher through his life struggles with the positive influence, support and love they provided him. You are forever in our hearts and we are forever grateful for the support and happiness you’ve added to Christopher’s life.

Christopher is survived by his parents, Charles and Christine David, his brothers John and Danny, and aunt, Johna Smith, all of Las Vegas; grandparents, John and Sheri David of Polson, Carolyn and Glenn Waddell, Pat and Sue Mattingly and Betty Matlin, aunts and uncles, Gena Mattingly, Julie (Taylor) Reasonen, Patricia and Shane Parker, Donna and Gene Bonfoey, James and Linda Mattingly, Lewis Mathis, Victor Mathis and Gene Mathis, and many cousins.

A celebration of life and potluck dinner is scheduled for 2 p.m. June 8, at the Polson Elks Club, 512 Main St., Polson, MT 59860.

Friends are encouraged to visit the website at http://www.buffalohillfh.com to leave notes of condolence for the family. Buffalo Hill Funeral Home and Crematory is caring for the family.

Time and again, Bubba the albino Brown Bear found himself being ‘rescued’ by some group of hapless humans and removed from his comfortable woodland habitat. And every time, he’d wake up to find himself alone and pissed-off, posited in the freezing cold clime of the polar ice cap.

And every time, Joe screamed, “FUUUUUCK! Not again!”

While I love wearing my bib-overalls, my wife says she wouldn’t be caught dead in a pair. Guess what she’s going to be buried in?

She told me that I looked like Ernest Hemingway. I immediately wanted to shoot myself.

He had awaken before the sun came up as was his usual routine. He sat at the computer catching up on the news from late yesterday and into the current morning, followed by writing, watching to videos and listening to short podcasts.

Shortly after that certain golden orb made itself known, Brexley retreated to the bathroom, where he showered and dressed. He often saw bathing as the official start to each day and today was no different.

“What a glorious day,” he stated as he drew back the curtain to the sliding glass door that overlook his small backyard patio.

He returned to his room and traded out the jeans he was wearing for a pair of shorts before heading back to the sliding glass door to open it. The sky was clear and the air, warm and not the slightest hint of a breeze.

Brexley returned to his office to retrieve his coffee cup from where he’d left it the evening before. A message flashed in the corner of his computer screen and he paused to open the link.

A new video, an hour and 20 minutes long. He walked into the kitchen, filled his cup with coffee, heated it the minute and ten seconds it took to bring the dark brown fluid back to life and then returned to his office and the computer screen.

It was a very good video, subject matter aside, which was about missing and possibly murdered people, it was well produced and shed light on what had happened and where the investigation stood at present. He had long since drained his cup and decided he’s like to have a second cup, something that was not part of his usual routine.

That’s when he saw all the papers scattered across the hard wood floor from the kitchen table. He’d not realized that the wind had picked up and was causing havoc with the piles of bills and other mail that had been resting on the table.

Brexley quickly gathered everything up, placed them on the table and added a handheld calculator a top to keep them in place. He walked over to the glass door and stepped outside briefly.

The wind was approaching gale-force as it had snapped off a few of the smaller branches from the 20-year-old Aspen tree in the corner of his yard, and deposited them in the neatly groomed grass below. Further, the wind was now hot, very dry and unforgiving when breathed in; much like the Santa Ana winds he’d come to know and so well known in southern California.

But this was northern Nevada.

High shapeless, clouds now filled the once powder blue skies of that morning. Amid their flat, grayness were the unmistakable tracings of aircraft trails; high ones that came out thinly or sometimes invisibly, but which widened into fat, rolling cloud-like lines, thus adding to the over-all gray.

Brexley sighed and stepping back inside, closed and barred the door, then slid the heavy drape across the glass blocking out the remaining light. He sat down at his dinner table in the darkened room and mourned the glorious day that had been, forgetting about that second cup of coffee.

Some folk are like fog. When they disappears, it’s a brighter day.

I found a whip, mask and handcuffs in my wife’s dresser drawer…I can’t belive it…I’m married to a superhero!