“So how come you’re here starring at the weekly bullshit session?”

“Belinda went out to get her hair done this afternoon. She got to yacking with another lassie in the hairdresser’s, and seeing as they were both going shopping at Tesco after they had coffee together. This lassie Gwen mentioned her old man was going out to the pub tonight. She said it was the men’s story telling night and invited her round for a girls night in with some friends and a bottle of wine or two. Now I ask you, how many retired professional liars do you know called Sasha? She found out which pub and here I am. I only live twelve miles a way. Christ, man, it’s good to see you. I’d wondered if you were dead.”

“Nah. Mark Twain had the right of it when he said, ‘The report of my death was an exaggeration.’

I can settle for a draw. For a bloke, I’m not overly competitive.
&
Elle with her knickers down screaming ‘It’s a bloody snake.’

To win at anything you have to know the rules and out play the opposition using the same rules. Though cheating from time to time can pay dividends. Now, there’re little ones needing bedtime stories. Off you go. I’ll bring you a cocoa.

Yeah, yeah! I know Alf. Your granddaughter rides a motor cycle for plod down Devon way, and I’m sure she’s a wonderful girl. She probably gives pennies to the poor too, but I’m talking generalisations here. I’m not having a go at Sylvia. Get him another pint to settle his nerves, Stan.

My three older siblings were girls. I enjoyed dressing in their clothes and liked pretty things, but there was nothing desperate about it. I think I could easily have lived without it, but by the time I was old enough to go to school such games stopped on pain of my father’s belt.

Ja, ja! What a drinker! What a fighter!” Her voice softened, “What a lover!”

Any early attempt at first person writing concerning an old man’s reflections on recent life with a group of his friends and some fascinated tourists all drinking in an old fashioned village pub one summer afternoon. I suspect this particular obviously experienced raconteur hadn’t had to pay for a drink in years.

A wish for Joy

The old man fingered the ring, then summoned the genie.

“What is thy wish?” the genie asked.

“I’ve come to realize I never gave happiness to anybody. So my wish is that for whatever time I have left, I would be a person who makes others smile when I come into a room. To be a source of happiness wherever I go. “

“Granted”

Some time later, in a hospital across town, a baby is presented to her parents.

They say “Let’s call her ... Joy ...”

End?

Part Eighteen

Malak looked Hanuman sternly in the eye, letting the tension build before speaking again. Obviously hoping that by increasing the anxiety then offering a way out the members of the Emergent would be more likely to accept it.

Part Thirteen

This section of the Pyrenees mountains was isolated and rarely visited. The moreso in the past few years, due to a certain element moving in.

Part Twelve

"I hear you've been taking lessons," said Melody, raising an eyebrow. Thanks to Blackpool providing transportation, she was currently spending several hours a week at the repository. This wasn't helping her writing productivity, but the inside information she got - even just what she could share - was invaluable. Right now, she was in the small office Aaron had recently been assigned at the repository. "Couldn't you find a better teacher than Mannequin?"

Jack looks out the window of his private Lear as it approaches Washington D.C. He hated coming to Washington D.C. The place was filled with backstabbing hypocrites and lairs. The only reason he agreed to fly out to Washington, was the Attorney General had contacted him personally. Plus, there were a bunch of senators and representatives that wanted to talk to him.

Part Nine

Malak needed little exploring to find the control room for the operation. It was the second largest chamber in the building, after the internal garage. While most of the building was nearly empty, this place was full of people busy doing things which at first glance would not have been out of place in any modern office. At the far end from the double doors of the main entrance was a large desk, on a low dais. There sat someone Malak was surprised to see. Though he was not nearly as surprised as the occupants of the room were when he became visible.

Part Seven

The next morning everyone at the repository was still buzzed about the rescue. Including the federal employees working to destroy the chemicals, even though they hadn't been involved. Melody managed to get several interviews with various participants in the operation, as well as updates on how the refugees were faring. Then she just hung around the computer room, where the performance of the new device in planning the operation was being evaluated.

Part Four

A lifetime of reflections, Joanie’s final purge: “You Hook My Bra and I’ll Hook Yours”
(This story is semiautobiographical adult fiction. Explicit content.)

Chapter 6 of 6

Our story follows 72 year old Joanie from a confused childhood to her Golden Years. Joanie reflects on the events and quirks of fate that led her to becoming Joanie. Her story culminates in her final purge.
Joanie gets married, does her military duty, looks for answers and grows old: a final purge

Previously

A lifetime of reflections, Joanie’s final purge: “You Hook My Bra and I’ll Hook Yours”

Our story follows 72 year old Joanie from a confused childhood to her Golden Years. Joanie reflects on the events and quirks of fate that led her to becoming Joanie. Her story culminates in her final purge.

Have you ever wanted to take a less traveled road? Have you ever regretted not taking a different route or trying something different? Michelle showed me the way; I have no regrets. Over the years I have wondered where and how she got her ‘road map’.

A lifetime of reflections, Joanie’s final purge: “You Hook My Bra and I’ll Hook Yours”

Our story follows Joanie from a confused childhood to her Golden Years. Joanie reflects on the events and quirks of fate that led her to becoming Joanie. At 72 years of age, flashbacks and self reflection, allow us to better understand her lifelong search to understand ‘how’ and ‘why’. “Why me?” she asks.

(This story is semiautobiographical adult fiction. Explicit content. There are six chapters. All rights reserved. Comments are appreciated.)