I'm leaving the old intro here, but adding this- it appears the doves have taken over my blog for their fiction. Just as well, I was doing a piss poor job of updating. They're doing much better.

This blog is infrequently updated, full of incorrect spellings, misused words, and general bad grammar. It started when I was trying to use google+ (which I've since given up on) and discovered there was no character limit for posts. If you've known me a long time, a lot of these stories will be old hat. If you plan to know me for a long time, you'll no doubt hear many of them in person. But, folks seemed to enjoy them, so here they are.

Thursday, December 20, 2012

the Sixty Eighth Story

As teenagers, we used to frequent the 24 hour diners. Honestly, even as an adult, I look for a nearby 24 hour diner when picking a living situation. If one happens to be still awake at 3am, diner food is wonderful. One of these times, we were at the diner very late at night. It was a group of us, and not the best looking group- there were black trench coats and boots and lots and lots of mud. One particular young man was in full on black lipstick and white facepaint that had begun to run after a full night of sprinting about in the woods. He looked like shit. He carefully counted out enough coins and ordered a coffee. The rest of us placed our orders as well. The waitress came back with everything, plus an enormous blueberry muffin, cut in half, toasted, and buttered, which she placed in front of him with a big smile.

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