The other day I had quite the fright.
Some person was feeding strawberries to fluffy snow-white rabbits. So disturbing if you didn’t know the back story. My God!
What a dastardly concept.
But there’s worse things, don’t you know….
Like white dogs eating dragon fruit.
Corgi Gives His Owner And The Entire Internet A Mini Heart Attack After He Eats Some Dragon Fruit And Rests In The Mess
Our pets sometimes scare us senseless. Imagine walking into a room and seeing your pet dog lying on the floor on its back, covered in a sticky red liquid. The horror! But like Sherlock Holmes that you are, you bend down and taste the liquid. It’s not blood—it’s a fruit! Silly dog!
That’s exactly what happened with Gody the Corgi. His owner photographed Gody lying on the floor like someone from an episode of CSI. It turns out that the cute corgi gorged himself on dragon fruit, rolled around in the remains, and pretended to be dead.
The short-legged doggie was completely fine, but a lot of internet users did a double-take and some of them were scared that the pupper had been hurt. Scroll down for Bored Panda’s interview with Gody’s owner!
Gody’s owner explained that the Facebook page is named after the cute dog’s mother. “This page was created for Candy a while ago. I want to share all the fun moments of my adorable dogs with everyone to bring them some joy in their busy days.”
According to the owner, Gody is just 2 months old! “Because he’s a baby, like other small dogs, he likes to get himself dirty and sleep a lot. He also loves to eat fruits.”
Gody’s owner also told Bored Panda that this was the very first time that the puppy ate dragon fruit. “I found that very interesting so I took photos of him,” the owner said.
We were curious to know how Gody’s training is going. The owner revealed to us that the puppy’s training is “still in process” because he is so small.
Oh the horror.
Today…
What are some activities children did 50 years ago that would not be allowed today?
It was a different world. When I was 11 years old I went to my dad and asked for twenty dollars. He asked what do you need twenty dollars for. I said I needed a pair of bell bottom blue jeans. In 1963 that was like asking for two hundred dollars. My dad said if I want twenty dollar pants that I should find a good job. About three miles or so away from our house was a restaurant. I rode my bike up and asked for a job bussing tables. They said they had no jobs bussing tables but I could wash dishes. It paid fifty cents per hour. So that summer I worked full time washing dishes. When school started I worked part time after school. If my grades fell below average the job would have to go. That was my dad’s law.
There were some sandpits about ten miles away. My brothers and I would make lunches the night before. The next morning we got up before daylight, got our fishing rods, and rode our bikes to the sandpit lake. We spent the day fishing and swimming. We would always come back very sunburned.
With the money I earned I bought a Honda 125 scrambler. We had a dog that was a black Labrador. I also had a Sears and Roebuck 12 gage shotgun. The dog and I would go out to the Boys Town farms and we would hunt pheasant and quail. I didn’t tell my parents I bought the Honda and I thought I could keep it hidden behind the garage. When my dad found out I got the belt. He said no son of his would be a Hell’s Angel. I got on the bike and ran away from home. I was gone two days before I realized this wasn’t the smartest thing I have done. My dad saw the pheasants in the freezer and thought the Honda wasn’t a bad idea after all.
As I grew up we would sneak into drive-in movies. We were proud how many guys we could get into a trunk of a 1953 Chrysler.
In High School we said the Lord’s Prayer before games like baseball, football, etc.
TV was only on until eleven-thirty; Friday and Saturday until one-thirty in the morning. We considered the news and baseball the only things worth watching.
Comic books were five cents then ten cents, twenty-five cents for deluxe editions. They were a big treat when I was very young. My mom thought they would rot my brain.
We got dressed up for church. Ties, white shirt pressed pants, shined black shoes. Hair combed. After mass there were Cub scout and boy scouts meetings. We were more or less left on our own to earn merit badges. I don’t recall the details but one year a lot of dad’s lawnmowers were taken apart. Memberships dropped.
The biggest things I remember is we had a lot more freedom. Little or no supervision. We had a chance to grow up. No games to get addicted to on TV. We worked hard if we wanted something. We knew right from wrong big time. Lies were one of the worst thing we could do, next to stealing. Nobody would call police for getting a spanking. We could get a spanking by teachers. I could buy cigarettes at the store for my dad at any age. People trusted police.
In the summer months the time to be home was sunset. If we were late there would be a price to pay. Size 36. leather
We would play baseball in the street. Somebody’s dad would open a fire hydrant in the summer. Or winter for sleds. There was always a broken arm or leg for a kid doing something stupid.
I could go on but I think I have given your question a lot more time than I should have. You just can’t change the past and the saddest thing is nobody will know what they have missed.
G7 and the decline of empire
Is it true that they kill you if you quit the French Foreign Legion? If so, has a Legionnaire ever been executed?
You won’t be executed but if you try to desert and they catch you, you’ll wish you were never born.
I know many former legionnaires and almost all of them didn’t finish their contracts. When the war in Yugoslavia broke out, many Croatians that were serving in the Legion deserted and went to Croatia to defend their country.
One of them told me that during the first week of his basic training, two British legionaries tried to run away. One evening, my Croatian friend was emptying the trash bin in front of their company building when he saw the two Brits dressed in sports clothes sneaking away from the building.
Twenty minutes later, the alarm was sounded. His platoon was assembled and the instructors and sergeants looked extremely angry. A while later, the Military Police brought back the two deserters. They hadn’t even made it over the barracks’ fence.
What followed was the most severe beating. The two Brits were asking for mercy but they were kicked until they were bleeding from their ears and lost consciousness. Then they were sent to a small military prison complex inside the camp. The whole “show” served to deter the other legionnaires from trying to do the same thing.
Over the next week, they could often see the two deserters when they were running through the camp while the Military Police were beating them with batons.
After a week, one of the Brits hung himself in his prison cell. He couldn’t take it anymore.
This is an extreme case and the two guys really had no luck. Normally, a legionnaire just waits for his free weekend, buys himself a train ticket, and disappears. Nobody will hunt him down like in a Hollywood movie.
After a while, a deserter can even visit France, nobody will bother him. Of course, if you deserted from the Legion and you want to spend your family holiday in France, you shouldn’t choose a place where the Legion has a base or where the French Army sends their soldiers for recreation or medical rehabilitation. It could be quite embarrassing when you go to a bar and your former platoon commander suddenly shows up.
My daughter bought a new car, the contract is signed and she drove it home. The dealership called and said they forgot to take the custom wheels off the car and want her to bring the car back so they can change them. What should she do?
This happened to a guy I worked with; the company we worked for had a great credit manager who worked with everyone to make sure all our accounts were up to date in a good way. One of the salespeople had done just what the question asked: he had bought his 16-year-old daughter a car the day before.
By 8:02 a.m. the next day he got a call from the dealership telling him there was an error in the paperwork and he needed to either bring in $1500 or return the car. Our credit manager told him it was a classic bait-and-switch scam that went way back. He sent my friend home to get the paperwork to review and after looking at the paperwork for about 15 seconds, he simply said it was a scam. If there was an error, too bad and it was in his favor — they had signed the contract.
The dealership called again, but he told them, sorry but we’re done. The salesman went into tears claiming he was going to be fired. Now I had an operation manager who was known for being blunt and rude listening in. He yells out, “If you made that kind of mistake, you should be fired.” Over the next couple of days, he got calls from salesmen, sales managers, and others. It got to the point they threatened to repossess the car.
He then told the dealership he had reported them to the Better Business Bureau; they carried weight back then before Yelp, and he would report the car stolen if they touched it. He never heard from them again. The dealership went out of business a year or so later.
The lesson here is you need to know your rights and, as I was taught years ago, you can always tell when a salesperson is lying — they are talking.
Ranch Pizza
Pizza Hut served this for a very short time.
Ingredients
- Pizza crust
- Buttermilk ranch dressing
- Cooked bacon, crumbled
- Cooked chicken chunks
- Mozzarella cheese
Instructions
- Spread ranch dressing on crust.
- Add bacon and chicken, then top with mozzarella cheese.
- Bake.
- Before serving, top with shredded lettuce, diced tomatoes and onions.
12 Strong B-52 Bombing Scene
Do paper leaks happen in China with respect to Gao Kao?
Of course, there are people who commit serious crimes.
China is no exception.
Leaking college entrance examination papers is a very serious crime in China, so there are very few such cases.
Since the establishment of the PRC in 1949, the crime of leaking college entrance examination papers has only occurred three times.
The most recent one was in 2003, when the examination papers of a county in Sichuan Province were stolen by students.
The case resulted in the cancellation of all the examination papers of that year’s college entrance examination (which had been sent from Beijing to all parts of the country).
The Ministry of Education urgently used the backup examination papers.
The person involved was arrested by the police and brought to court for leaking state secrets.
Because he was a student, not a professional criminal, he was given a pretty light sentence. He only got 7 years in prison.
Sandwich Porn
What rule should be implemented with an iron fist in every car trip?
- No random purchases of furniture. I don’t care how cheap that rocking chair in Denmark is. It is not going all the way to Spain and back to northern Sweden with me, taking up 80% of the car’s interior space.
- Litter goes into the cardboard box wedged between the front seats, not into the glove box, the ash trays, the door pouches, or (egad!) out the window.
- The person who makes me play the Dirty Dancing Soundtrack on the car stereo will be abandoned at the most sinister, Czech truck stop I can find.
- No feet on the dashboard. If that airbag deploys, you will look like a swatted daddy long legs.
- Any comments on my divine and responsible driving I do not approve of, and I have a train ticket back to Stockholm for that person. Second class.
- The words “are we there yet?” are forbidden. Google it. That’s what God has given us the GPS for.
- Toilet breaks are every two hours. For everyone. Unless you’re gonna vomit, in which case we can negotiate.
- Absolutely no experimenting with car trim. If I had a dollar for every time some cousin pried off a panel, thinking it’s a fridge or a secret stash, or a wormhole to Lisbon, I could buy an extra car.
- No smoking. Unless they are Cohibas, and I can have one.
- Luggage access is strictly in the evening only, once we’ve reached the hotel. Nobody needs the hair dryer, or nylons, or a pyjama, at 1:20 on a German autobahn.
The Philippines
Here’s the speech of Benjamin Magalong, current mayor of the city Baguio and former head of the Philippine National Police, done way back 2023.
Let me temporarily set aside my manuscript. Instead, let me speak from my mind and from my heart. Let me give you some facts about what is happening in the entire country today.
Last April, news came out that our national debt is already at 13.86 trillion pesos (US$230–250 billion) . Remember that when we started, when President Duterte started his administration as president of the Philippines, our national debt was at just 5.7 trillion pesos (nearly US$100 billion), accumulated for decades. In just a matter of seven years, our national debt increased by as much as 142%. We’re now at 13.86 trillion.
In short, we are already above the 60% debt to GDP ratio. That means that each and every Filipino since birth will each inherit a debt of ₱113,000.00 (nearly US$2,000.00). According to the former Secretary of NEDA Cartua, our ability to pay our debt would depend on our ability to manage our financial leakages. And so I asked, what is financial leakage? And no less than the former Secretary of NEDA said, “The final leakage that I’m saying, a big chunk of that goes to corruption.” And surprisingly, when the news came out that our national debt is already at 13.86 trillion, only very, very few members of our legislative branch, people from Congress, raised hell. Again, I repeat, only very few raised hell. It is at this backdrop, or against this backdrop, that I would like to share with you this narrative.
Last year, I was invited by the Civil Service Commission and the Department of Interior Local Government to talk before newly elected officials, twice. In one session, there are about 150 mayors. A second session, about 200 mayors. Last March, I was given a chance again to talk to about 1,100 municipal mayors, all members of the League of Municipalities. Three weeks ago, I had the chance to talk and speak before vice governors of the different provinces.
I was very concerned. The way we process, the way we manage our local government union. For the first 15 minutes, everybody was just so enthusiastic, listening to me, looking at my impressive presentation. And then I start talking about good governance. I start talking about traditional politics. I start talking about corruption. It is a direct correlation with poverty. And when I start doing that, they also start looking at their cellphones. Are we not going to ask ourselves, is corruption now becoming a norm in government? Is good governance becoming an exception?
It is very saddening that they have a percentage in every project. They have not yet become tired. They already have a percentage. They are still the contractor. They are still the supplier. Unfortunately, only a few people raise this issue. We in the Philippine National Police. I’ve been talking to your Command Executive Senior Police Officer, Louie S. Makilan, and all the other Regional Executive Senior Police Officers. When they visited me two weeks ago, that was about three weeks ago.
We are willing to give or contribute a reasonable percentage of our pension plan or of our pension to national government to address this big issue. But it’s saddening. Nothing have we heard from our legislators that they are willing to give up their pork barrels. Even just saying that we reduce the pork barrel. But nobody, for some reason, nobody would admit that they do have pork barrel. But now that I am with local government, the fact remains that there is still pork barrel.
We, in the uniformed service, both from the armed forces and from the Philippine National Police, we risk our lives. We risk equality time with our family. And we are willing to give up a small amount of our pension just to help national government. Just to address this huge deficit. Just to address this big national debt.
We will wait whatever our “patriotic” legislators will tell. We will wait for them to speak. Hopefully, one of them will come out in the open and tell us it is about time that legislators should also give a big contribution to address national government issue, especially on our financial debt.
Well, we Filipinos all live in this hellhole of a state run bey feudal oligarchs who only cared about their families and stomachs while the average citizen had to deal with a debt that they’re not even responsible for. The country will soon be blacklisted by the world for its everlasting inability to pay the debt incurred by the greatest post-Spanish caudillo in history whose son currently rules the country today with extreme incompetence, and the average Filipino completely shunned from the international community. The average Filipino might as well be picked up somewhere in a garbage pit at this point.
Why are some atheists offended by people offering to pray for them?
Originally Answered: Why are some atheists so offended by people offering to pray for them?
My father passed away when he was 60. He was riding in a car with his friend driving. They were heading home from a convention. My father dialed my mother on his cell phone, but before he could utter a word to her, he had a massive heart attack.
His friend, noticing my father’s condition, pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped. He was the only one in the car with my father. He could have dialed 911 to get help there faster, he would have known where on the interstate they were. He was trained in CPR, and could have begun life-sustaining procedures to keep blood flowing to my father’s brain and organs.
Instead, he prayed. He prayed for my father’s life, and his own conscience.
My mother recognized that my father was in distress, so she called 911 on the other line while screaming into the connection she had with my father, trying to get some aid. She told the 911 operator what interstate they were on and about where she estimated they would be on it, based on how long they had been driving.
My father’s friend kept praying. He never began CPR or called 911 to help them find my father.
An ambulance did come, and they began CPR and took my father to a hospital, but it had been too long and he did not make it.
The praying was ineffective. CPR could have helped. This man is no longer a family friend.
Praying is only helpful to the one who is praying. It is not helpful to the ‘recipient’ of the prayer. If I am ever in this situation, I would always prefer action to prayer.
Fix Bayonets – Band of Brothers
Should I install games on an office laptop?
Don’t do it.
At one of my last jobs, a C-level employee’s computer got owned by viruses. I could boot it to safe mode but there was no rescuing the Windows install; it was too far gone. So I copied off the guy’s files before wiping the drive, but first I ran through his list of software to see what I would need to reinstall. Beyond the typical work-related software, I found several games installed, mostly for his elementary-age son. So when I gave him back the computer with a clean install of XP, I said, “The viruses most likely came from the games. Please don’t install games on the computer again.” He agreed and apologized.
A few months later he said he had gotten another virus. All the same symptoms were there, so I booted into safe mode and sure enough, several games were installed again. I wiped the machine and gave it back to him, this time without admin rights on the PC. I reminded him that the viruses most likely came from the games – again – and that he wouldn’t be able to install games anymore.
A couple weeks go by before he complains that he took the computer home the previous night and needed to install something but couldn’t. I reminded him that I took away his admin rights, but asked him what he needed to install and told him that I would gladly do it for him. He refused and asked me for the password to the PC’s local admin account so that he could do it himself. When I refused and offered again to install whatever he needed, he grumbled and hung up.
A little while later I got a call from our HR director. Dude reported me to HR, saying that he needed admin access to his PC but I wouldn’t give it to him, and that his secretary had admin rights on her computer so why couldn’t he. I explained the history behind the situation, so together we went to his office and checked the computer. There were four or five game installers in his downloads folder, all with timestamps from the previous night. HR was none too happy to see evidence that he was 1) disregarding IT rules, 2) putting our information security at risk by constantly doing things that would lead to viruses, and 3) putting our information security at risk by letting his frickin’ kid use his work computer. The next week, at the direction of my manager (also C-level), I took away his laptop and gave him a desktop instead.
Long story short: don’t do anything stupid that gives IT or HR a reason to more closely inspect your activities on business-owned property. Installing personal stuff, especially games, definitely qualifies.
Why do westerners act as if they are superior to everyone else?
This is a widespread belief amongst them.
But Li! That’s over 100 years old! Surely they’ve moved on. Some of them have but many have not.
All that’s happened is that they’ve become better at hiding it.
Now and again however they let the mask slip and reveal their mentality that they’re superior.
I’ve already derped on Colin Riegels plenty (he’s literally an imperialist who supports American destruction and thinks mass murder of Iraqis was merely a mistake). Remember Colin is a middling person in middle england with a middle income job and is highly representative of middle england.
Today I will turn my focus on Richard Lock, he’s the bald guy. He’s written some very erudite things… but something exposed him recently (6–8 months ago) well two things but I’m only going to focus on one.
He was writing about LGBTQ rights and about such rights outside Europe.
He said and I paraphrase: If [other] nations do not take up LGTBQ rights like us then they’ll be left behind.
I was what? He’s pretty much saying what imperialists of the past have said! If these savages don’t follow the SUPREME MASTER RACE then they’ll be left behind. I don’t bash gays, I don’t particularly care, I do care that there are plenty of bigots who will use it as a shield to be racist or bigoted to others.
That’s not a million miles away from what Churchill a well known white supremacist would be saying.
A stray cat that is too weak to stand, staggers for help..
What is the scariest insect you have ever seen?
I am surprised no one has mentioned this one. This is a tarantula hawk wasp.
(photo credit Paul Nylander)
THIS is the reason you want to wear a motorcycle helmet in New Mexico. They are only 5cm long with a stinger 7mm long. They are relatively docile, and have no interest in stinging you unless you are dressed up as a tarantula for Halloween (an activity not recommended within the state of New Mexico).
However, if you piss them off… they have the second most painful sting in the world. The sting is so powerful that for three minutes you will be incapable of any thought other than screaming. The sting is second in the world only to the bullet ant. The stings of stuff in Australia will kill you. That is merciful compared to the sting of this monster of the southwest.
Only one creature is crazy enough to eat this sucker: The roadrunner. That’s because he is CRAZY! He’s also known for eating rattlesnakes…. Which tells you something about how insane that bird is.
If it’s so docile, why do you care? Because the Tarantula Hawk Wasp is armored. He makes a mythical dragon look defenseless. Striking one of these monsters with a car windshield at highway speed can crack your windshield, and he still has a 50% chance of surviving the experience.
THAT is why you want to wear a helmet on your motorcycle in New Mexico. If you don’t, you better hope your head A) is harder than a windshield and you aren’t knocked out, and B) your head kills this monster instantly…. Because if he survives the experience, you have a 5cm pissed off monster wasp with a 7mm stinger sitting on your face, ready to make your Monday worse than every Monday ever experienced….
If you think I am fucking joking about this monster, come to the state and deliberately try to piss this guy off. Hitting it with a baseball bat is significantly useful in pissing it off. The armor will protect it, and he will make you regret your action.
Do not fuck with a Tarantula Hawk Wasp!
(They are the only creature on the planet with less sense of humor than the CIA.)
What do I write to my dad in prison?
Originally Answered: What do I write my dad in prison?
My father spent a few years in prison for federal firearms charges. He was in his mid-70’s when incarcerated.
Over those years I found that it didn’t really matter what I wrote to him — he was just so thrilled to get a letter from me, it could have been un-illustrated Dr. Seuss poems and he would have loved it.
As recommended in the excellent answer by Jim Christmas, there’s no point in self recriminations or reminding the inmate of where they are.
They have very limited lives, so living vicariously is one of the best ‘escapes’ you can offer. Long, newsy letters about the minutiae of your daily life will be gleefully read, re-read, and shared with pride.
Every time my father called me after receiving one of my letters — which were, I’m ashamed to admit, far too few and far between — he would come to tears on the phone, trying to explain how much it meant that I had taken the time to write and post a letter to him.
Your hastily-scrawled note can be the only bright spot in a day that is boring at best, violent at worst.
Don’t hesitate or try to find the perfect words; just tell your dad how you’re doing, what’s going on in your life, and that you’re thinking of him.
Eventually my father asked me to send him photos of myself and I was concerned, not knowing why he wanted them. I sent him a couple of recent, candid headshots figuring nothing too awful could come of it.
Several months later, I received the most beautiful hand-drawn portraits based on those photographs. These are some of my most prized possessions.
Nothing is free in prison. My dad says he paid $100 per drawing. It may have been significantly more or less than that, but was most likely paid in barter of some sort.
My point is…I don’t know your relationship with your father at all.
I can only encourage you to reach out to him as much as you are able. To treat him as a human being and not a caged animal.
To be wary and take care of yourself, and also to open your heart as far as you can and still be true to yourself.
All my best to you and your family.
Saudi Arabia ABANDONS Petrodollar!
Who are some of the dumbest criminals ever to be caught?
This girl takes the cake by far.
Hannah Sabata, at the age of 19, robbed a local bank at gunpoint on November 27, 2012. She actually managed to get away with it, so why am I mentioning her on this answer if she was successful in her crime?
Well, after she robbed the bank, Sabata decided that it was a good idea to post a video on YouTube titled “Chick Bank robber” in where she admitted to stealing a car and driving it to Waco in order to commit the robbery. She then explained in her video how she managed to get away with $6,000 worth of cash; she even held up the keys of the car she stole.
HEY GUYS, I JUST ROBBED A BANK AND NOW I’M MAKING THIS VIDEO TO INFORM YOU OF IT!
Unsurprisingly, she later got a wake up call by the police and Polk county authorities who placed her under arrest. Investigators then found the stolen money. She was convicted and given 10–20 years in prison, a sentence she’s been serving since June 2013.
You can still find her video on YouTube. Anyway, she’s my nomination.
Pizza Porn
Drink Your Milk
Submitted into Contest #250 in response to: Write a story in which someone is afraid of being overheard.… view prompt
Michael Jefferson
“I always thought you were a liberal. I never thought you’d wanna throw immigrants out of the country. There’s enough work for everybody.”
“I’m not talking about people from other countries. I mean extraterrestrials. Aliens.”
“I’ve always loved you’re over the top sense of humor.”
Finishing his lunch, B.J. walks through the park to meet Brady at the pickup.
He sees three kids running in circles, whipping each other with tree branches. Curious, B.J. approaches two other children reading comic books on a bench.
“What are they doing?”
A girl with oval glasses looks up. “Playin’ army.”
“What’s that you’re reading?” B.J. asks.
“The Sub Mariner versus the Fantastic Four.”
“Cool. I remember reading that when I was a kid.”
“They had comic books when you were a kid?”
“Must’ve been written on stone,” a towheaded boy says without even looking up.
B.J. walks away muttering that the next generation will destroy the world.
“You have the estimate for the job?” B.J. asks as he and Brady walk up the steps of the Dorset Premier Theater.
A loud crash stops them cold.
“Sounds like breaking glass,” Brady says.
The two men enter the building in time to see the theater’s owner, Griffin Frye, being chased by his wife Fiona, who is holding a hammer.
Fiona’s normally stylish hair is standing on end. Her clothes are ruffled, and she’s puffing like a locomotive operating at high speed.
Seeing B.J. and Brady she curses unintelligibly, turning away.
Twice his wife’s size, the theater owner is bleeding from his forehead and has a bruised cheek.
“What did you do? Suggest a revival of “Oh, Calcutta?” Brady jokes.
“The remodeling project,” Griffin gasps. “We were talking about rebuilding the theater.”
“If money is the problem, we can find a way to cut some of the costs,” B.J. says.
“She doesn’t want to do it.”
“What? She was all charged up about a couple of days ago.”
“She was different a couple of days ago,” Griffin says, rubbing his head. “She was the woman I married, gentle, thoughtful. Now she’s acting like a rabid dog. Everything upsets her, and she’s talking crazy. Something about turning the theater into a hive.”
“A hive?” Brady asks. “You’re gonna make honey in the theater?”
“Not that kind of hive. She said it’s going to be a sanctuary for the new breed.”
“New breed of what?” Brady asks.
“Beats me.”
“Looks like she already did,” Brady cracks.
“You should put something on that cut,” B.J. says. “C’mon out to the truck. I’ve got a first aid kit.”
B.J. is tending to Griffin’s wound when Chief Kennedy and Mayor Levant pull up to the theater.
Fiona runs out of the theater toward them, pointing at her husband. Mayor Levant grabs her by the arms, trying to control her agitated movements.
Cyrus bounds out of the back seat of the Chief’s car, barking loudly at B.J.
“I hate that thing,” B.J. says.
“Sounds like the feeling is mutual,” Brady replies.
“At ease, Cyrus,” Chief Kennedy says, and the dog immediately squats obediently, staring at B.J. with angry silence.
His jawline clinched, Chief Kennedy strides toward them.
“You ought to put a muzzle on that frankfurter,” Brady jests.
Chief Kenndy’s voice is languid and grim.
“He doesn’t like riff raff.”
“Riff raff?” Brady shouts. “We played football together in high school, Colt. I blocked for you, Golden Boy!”
Chief Kennedy turns to Griffin. “Are you abusing your wife?”
“What? Look at him, Colt!” Brady jumps in. “It’s the other way around.”
“Stay out of this, Brady. Well, Griffin?”
“She’s been argumentative and violent lately. She’s talking crazy about turning the theater into some kind of hive.”
Chief Kennedy’s dead stare momentarily wavers.
“She certainly sounds unstable. We’ll take her to the psych ward for tests.”
“Wait a minute, Colt, that’s a bit extreme.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine in a few days,” Chief Kennedy replies dispassionately. “In the meantime, you should get that cut looked at.”
Their jaws drooping loosely, the three men watch Chief Kennedy walk back to Mayor Levant and Fiona.
“I’ve never seen Colt like this, so detached and emotionless,” B.J. comments.
“And that’s not the woman I married.”
“Well, at least the three of us haven’t changed,” Brady says.
Chief Kennedy and Mayor Levant stare blankly at the three men. Growling, Cyrus jumps into the back seat.
“This one needs an adjustment. She nearly gave us away,” Mayor Levant says, pushing Fiona into Chief Kennedy’s grasp.
B.J. pulls his truck into Cordell Cooper’s Lumber Yard.
The two men look around the yard.
“Kinda quiet,” Brady notes. “You usually hear the sound of buzz saws and forklifts.”
“Hang by the truck. I’ll go see if Cordell’s in.”
B.J. enters the office, finding the burly owner sitting with his feet up on the desk, sipping from a carton of chocolate milk.
“I’m here to pick up my order, Cordell.”
“I don’t have any wood,” Cordell replies lackadaisically.
“What? You’ve got a whole lumberyard of wood,” B.J. says. “C’mon, Cordell, I need it to finish the job at town hall. All you have to do is get up off your lazy butt and help me and Brady load up my truck.”
“I gave everybody a few days off,” Cordell says in a listless voice, hooking his thumbs in his bib overalls.
“What is this? National My Head is Made of Wood Week?”
“Come back in two days,” Cordell says flatly.
“Me and Brady can load it on our own. How much do I owe you?”
“Take what you need. Pay me when you can.”
Reaching into his pocket, B.J. pulls out his wallet, throwing down a series of bills on Cordell’s desk.
“There. Two hundred. Keep the change. I wouldn’t start giving away your wood. You’re gonna need it.”
B.J. and Brady load the wood into the back of the pickup.
“He really said that?” Brady asks.
“Yep. The cheapest man in Dorset was willing to let me pay him whenever I felt like it. That proves things aren’t right in this town.”
“Something funny is going on around here, Boo Boo.”
Kara looks up from her soup, smiling. The hippie-drenched brunette never tires of her husband calling her Boo Boo because it reminds her of when they met.
“Everybody’s getting edgy, rude. And a lot of folk have closed up their businesses or stopped caring about them. Brady and I went to the diner this morning. Miklos had to serve us because Millie and Molly have stopped showing up. Then we went to Cordell’s lumberyard. Not only was he grumpy, he could have cared less if we took every plank of wood he had.”
“Maybe it’s the effect of Daylight Saving Time,” Kara offers. “People act squirrelly sometimes because of the time change.”
“Maybe that’s it. But I overheard Colt and Mayor Levant talking today. They’re plotting together on something.”
Kara chuckles. “Probably an app for tourists or a new way to give out parking tickets.”
B.J. stretches. “Think I’ll take a walk. You want to come?”
“Thanks, but I’m in the middle of a really cool sci-fi book.”
B.J. walks out the back door, heading for Wells Walk, one of the less frequented hiking trails in town.
Walking down the path, B.J. is captivated by the presence of thickening smoke and a bright white light ahead of him.
B.J. cautiously creeps along the path, careful not to rustle the twigs and branches in his way.
Through the dense smoke, B.J. can make out Cyrus’ form ahead of him in a clearing.
He takes cover behind a tree, his hand touching some sap.
What he sees makes his entire body shake.
Chief Kennedy, Mayor Levant, and Cordell Cooper are standing around a stone pit.
A blinding light and thick smoke are rising from it.
Inside the pit is a metal chair.
Brady is strapped to the chair.
Chief Kennedy and Cordell pour a vat of dark liquid over Brady, who remains impassive and still.
The chair slowly sinks into the pit.
Moments later the chair rises.
Brady’s body is concealed in a dark shell.
Easing him out of the chair, Mayor Levant cracks the shell with a hammer.
The four men bow to each other.
“The conversion will be complete in two days,” Mayor Levant says. “Then you’ll be part of the hive.”
Moving closer, B.J. steps on a twig.
Cyrus’ ears perk up.
“What is it, Cyrus?” Chief Kennedy asks.
Barking loudly and incessantly, Cyrus charges down the path toward B.J.
B.J. sits up in his bed, panting loudly.
“Boy, have you been having a bad dream,” Kara says.
B.J. forces a laugh, rubbing the sap in his hand.
B.J. knocks on Brady’s door, worried they’re already late.
Brady’s wife, Diana, opens the door holding a glass of chocolate milk.
“What do you want?”
“My partner.”
“He’s sick,” the normally cheerful blonde says cooly, sipping her chocolate milk. “He’ll be better in a couple of days.”
“Jeez. That’s everybody’s excuse lately,” B.J. says. “Did I see him last night on Welles Walk?”
Diana gives B.J. a long, bottomless stare. “He came home after work feeling lightheaded. Then his stomach started to bother him. He’s going to need to take a couple of days off.”
“I was sure I saw him out on Welles Walk last night.”
“Must’ve been someone else,” Diana says, her stare turning threatening. “Maybe you dreamed it. It’s possible, right?”
“Oh, yeah, right. Can’t I see him for a minute?”
“You can see him in two days,” Diana says, slamming the door.
After lunch B.J. passes through the park, spotting the same group of kids he’d seen earlier in the week.
The five children are sitting calmly on the benches, their attention focused on their books.
The books are cream-colored with gold lettering in script.
“I’ve never seen that comic,” B.J. says.
“It’s not a comic book,” the girl with the oval glasses answers. “It’s the word.”
“The word?”
The girl holds up the book. B.J. stares dumbly at the lettering, unable to read it.
“Our laws,” the girl says coldly.
“You kids are kinda young to be studying law. And what language is that?”
The five children look up at B.J. with the same dead stare.
“I liked you ragamuffins better when you acted like kids.”
“So, any major news, Boo Boo?” B.J. asks.
“I wish you would stop calling me that.”
“Boo Boo? I’ve been calling you that since we met at Brady’s Halloween party twenty-five years ago. You made such a pretty ghost.”
Kara’s manner and speech turn frosty. “We’re adults now. It’s time we focus on a better life.”
Kara goes to the refrigerator. Returning with a carton of chocolate milk, she pours him a glass.
“Drink some milk, It’s good for you.”
“No, Boo Boo. I don’t want it. You know I’m lactose intolerant.”
“It’ll help you sleep. Don’t make me force you to drink it.”
B.J. reluctantly downs the glass of milk. Almost immediately, he feels jittery, and his vision begins to blur.
“My own wife… You’re a part of it too…,” B.J. says, closing his eyes.
When B.J. wakes up, he finds himself walking alongside Chief Kennedy in the darkness. Cyrus leads away, occasionally looking back at B.J.
Smoke rises ahead of them, covering a clearing. A bright light emanating from a pit forces B.J. to shield his eyes.
Chief Kennedy pushes B.J. along the path. “You should be proud of yourself, B.J. You were on the disposal list until you started snooping around. It showed us your deductive powers are much higher than we thought. Besides, it’ll be nice for Kara to have a partner.”
They stop when they reach the clearing. Smoke rises from a nearby bottomless stone pit.
Brady, Mayor Levant, and Cordell are holding onto Griffin, who struggles to try and free himself.
“What is this? What are you doing?” B.J. asks frantically.
“The conversion,” Mayor Levant replies.
A metal chair rises from the pit. Still struggling, Griffin is forced into the chair and strapped in.
Brady and Cordell pour a vat of dark liquid over him.
“…Please, help me, B.J.,” Griffin pleads as the chair sinks into the pit. “They’re going to turn me into one of them… A creature with no emotion! No soul! No love! They’re going to do it to you too!”
“The conversion is painless, as long as you don’t resist,” Mayor Lavant says.
B.J. spots a nearby large rock.
“Well, I’m sure as hell going to resist,” he says.
Reaching for the rock, he slams it against the back of Chief Kennedy’s head, bloodying his skull.
Dazed and angered, Chief Kennedy turns to face B.J.
His head splits open, revealing the heads of dozens of humanoid, reptilian, and other nightmarish creatures.
“The essence of those we have assimilated,” Mayor Levant says.
The creatures snap and snarl at B.J.
B.J. drops the rock as he watches Chief Kennedy’s wound close, and he returns to his human form.
“It’s time for you to join us,” Mayor Levant says as Brady and Cordell grab his arms.
B.J. calmly eats his shredded wheat at the breakfast table, staring ahead at nothing in particular.
Kara walks past the table, nodding at him.
“Don’t forget to drink your milk.”
Pre-Historic Mega Structure Discovered in Montana, USA – Sage Wall
A British tabloid made a startling discovery this week: it turns out that Russia has weapons capable of wreaking untold devastation upon its enemies.
What got The Express’ knickers in a twist this time was the K-564 Arkhangelsk, a Yasen-M class nuclear-powered cruise missile submarine that recently underwent sea trials and is expected to enter service in December.
While the newspaper fears that this submarine “could be undetectable by Western adversaries” and could pose a serious threat to “NATO military bases, naval convoys, and onshore critical infrastructure during a crisis,” it remains to be seen what Arkhangelsk is truly capable of.
Here is what is currently known about the sub:
◻️ It can dive up to 600 meters deep and has a maximum speed of 16 knots on the surface and 31 knots underwater;
◻️ The submarine has a crew complement of 64 and an endurance of about 100 days, limited by food and maintenance requirements;
◻️ The vessel’s armament includes 533mm torpedo tubes and vertical launch silos for Oniks anti-ship cruise missiles, Kalibr cruise missiles and Zircon hypersonic cruise missiles. Both Kalibr and Zircon missiles are nuclear-capable.
Older Men Over 40 Are Enjoying Single Life – Young Men Are Warned About Marriage
What’s the most expensive thing you’ve lost and found?
At the beach with a girlfriend, we found a small zippered case which was loaded with Jewelry. My girlfriend pointed out that there were a lot of very expensive pieces. She pointed out jewelry with 18k stamped on them and told me that the gems set in some of the jewelry were very expensive. There was nothing in the case which could identify the owner. We placed an Ad in an area where the beach is located. All the Ad said was, Jewelry Case and Jewelry found on Santa Monica Beach. The ad also said to call with a description of the case and the jewelry. We had some dishonest people respond yet we also found the owner after 2 weeks. She called. Descriped the case in detail to include a tiny rip on one of the sides. She also had a list of every piece of Jewelry in the case along with some photos. We agreed to meet her at a Restaurant in Santa Monica. Very nice Gal and yes, the Jewelry was definately hers. She then offered us $200.00 for going to the effort in finding her. We both declined this. After coffee, she left and gave both of us a huge hug. After she left, my girlfriend saw an edge of what she thought was a $100.00 Bill slipped under a coffee mug. She moved the coffee mug and there were 2, $100.00 bills. Since we had her phone #, my girlfriend called and said she was more interested in her getting her jewelry back and we did not need a reward. The gal said if it weren’t for us, she would not have any of her jewelry left. We ended up accepting the $200 bucks she left us. My girlfriend and the gal with the Jewelry actually became friends. This was years ago and they are still friends even though we broke up years ago. It was a very positive feeling to have been able to find and return the missing case and jewelry.
Roasted Pepper and Gorgonzola Pizza
Ingredients
Pizza
- 1 Boboli or homemade crust
- Garlic Oil Sauce
- Mozzarella cheese, grated
- Gorgonzola cheese
- Roasted red bell pepper strips
Garlic Oil Sauce
- 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
- 4 cloves garlic
Instructions
Pizza
- Heat the oven to 450 degrees F. Spray or grease a pizza pan or stone.
- Top crust with Garlic Oil Sauce, mozzarella cheese, gorgonzola cheese and bell pepper strips.
- Bake on the bottom rack of oven for 8 to 12 minutes or until cheese is melted and crust is piping hot.
Garlic Oil Sauce
- Puree olive oil and garlic in blender.