When I lived in Shreveport, LA, one of our friends was a woman who owned a really nice house in the suburbs of Shreveport.

She was strange though.

She lived alone, with only her little white doggie.

And she had a real clutter problem. I mean it, though the house was beautiful and nicely decorated, she had mounds and mounds of junk, clutter and “stuff”. In fact, you had to walk on these little “foot paths” up and down the mountains and hills of clutter.

We all knew she had a problem. We got to know her though one of the counseling sessions that my mentally ill wife attended.

She was around 56 years old give or take and was very proud that she was still a virgin. Not that it mattered, I just considered it an oddity. Actually.

Different strokes, for different folks.

Eventually a friend of a friend moved in with her. Platonic for certain.

She provided him an address and meals, not to mention a roof over his head, and he helped her clean out all the clutter and debris. Different people with different problems, working together for the betterment of both. A win-win situation.

She was ok then.

I hope that she is doing well today.

And with that, today…

Is being a military cook bad?

I was a Navy cook for seven years and it was the best duty you could ask for. When you are underway (out to sea) and you control 100% of the one thing that everyone wants (food) you are THE MAN. You would be amazed at what people will trade for a submarine sandwich, a pizza or a bucket of fried chicken. Want a new pair of boots? No problem, just make a pizza. Want to do your own laundry rather than throw it into a big bag with everyone else’s stinky clothes? Just take a big old sandwich with you down to the ship’s laundry. The rule was always that no one went near the SEAL Locker or bothered those guys any way. You take a big mess of fried chicken down to those boys though and you’ll get to check out their gear and guns in a hurry. Hook them up enough and they might even give you a team patch.

Cooks had the added benefit of never being required to stand duty or watches and they rarely got assigned to repair lockers or berthing sweepers. Basically, they didn’t do shit duty because who would make the food if the cooks weren’t cooking?

As for a career move, it’s a good one. The military teaches you a lot about safety and sanitation as well as how to organize and run a kitchen. You’ll only learn the basics of preparing food, but you will have a good foundation. I got out of the Navy and went to The Culinary Institute of America. Now I work for a successful restaurant company, make a good salary and live in Hawaii. I got my start as a Navy cook and I have zero regrets and lots of great stories.

The Case of the Hiccuping Hen

---

Chapter 1: The Cluck That Wouldn’t Quit

The farm was peaceful—until Doris the Hen erupted like a malfunctioning alarm clock.

• “CLUCK-hic! CLUCK-hic! CLUUUUUCK—hic!”

• Harriet the Hen: “That’s not a cluck—that’s a hiccup! And it’s louder than a rooster at dawn!”

• Lillian the Hen: [faints into a feed bucket] “The horror… the HORROR!”

Sir Whiskerton, mid-nap atop a hay bale, tumbled off at the noise. “By my magnificent whiskers,” he declared, “this is a job for science.”

---

Chapter 2: The Great Hiccup Heist

The farm animals rallied with “cures”:

• Porkchop the Pig: “Eat a spoonful of mud. Works every time.” (Doris spat it out.)

• Ferdinand the Duck: “Sing an opera note! Hiiiiiiiiic—” (The pond frogs fled.)

• Rufus the Dog: “Hold your breath and spin! [Crashes into fence] Woof. Theory needs work.”

Even Zephyr the Genie floated over, offering a “groovy” wish. Doris hiccuped mid-request: “I wish—hic!—for—hic!—” Zephyr sighed. “Man, even my magic’s stumped.”

---

Chapter 3: The Scarecrow’s Secret

Just as despair set in, Bartholomew the Piñata (the farm’s resident “wise” object) mumbled, “Ever tried… not hiccuping?”

• Sir Whiskerton: “GENIUS. Doris, focus on something else!”

• Harriet: “Quick! Count how many times Porkchop mentions food!”

• Porkchop: “Hey! That’s at least twelve times a— oh. [grins] You sneaky hens.”

Distracted, Doris’s hiccups vanished. The farm cheered—until Mr. Ducky waddled in, selling “Hiccup-Proof Hats” (just colanders with feathers glued on).

---

The End

(But wait! Post-credit scene below…)

---

Summaries

• Moral: Patience and persistence can solve even the most annoying problems.

• Best Lines:

  • “That’s not a cluck—that’s a hiccup! And it’s louder than a rooster at dawn!” —Harriet

  • “By my magnificent whiskers, this is a job for science.” —Sir Whiskerton

  • “The horror… the HORROR!” —Lillian (post-faint)

• Post-Credit Scene:

  • Doris hiccups again—but it’s just Harriet hiding in the coop with a kazoo. “Revenge,” Harriet whispers.

• Key Jokes:

  • Rufus spinning into a fence.

  • Ferdinand’s opera hiccup scaring frogs.

  • Mr. Ducky’s “Hiccup-Proof Hat” scam.

• Starring:

  • Sir Whiskerton (Detective, Nap Enthusiast)

  • Doris the Hen (Hiccuping Menace)

  • Harriet the Hen (Sassy Sidekick)

  • Bartholomew the Piñata (Unhelpful Sage)

P.S. “Remember, kids: If life gives you hiccups, blame the duck.” —Zephyr the Genie

Farm Scent: “The air smelled of hay, hiccups, and regret.”

STRIPPED: Proving the Afterlife | The Scole Experiments

What’s the most dangerous situation you’ve witnessed at work, and how was it handled?

I used to manage a number of wind farms. The turbines I looked after ranged from pretty much the first commercial wind turbines through to brand new state of the art technology. There were plenty of potential safety issues, both were old technology didn’t meet modern safety standards, and where we implementing new and maybe untested technology.

There was one particular problem which caused massive headaches in how we could overcome it safely.

There are two ways to get to the top of a turbine, either via a lift

Or climbing a ladder

At one site we had problems with both. A component was routinely getting snagged, leaving the lift inoperable. The way to fix that was to climb above and realign the lift before replacing the component.

We also had problems with the ladders at the same site. The large pieces of metal seen either side of the ladder (ours were significantly larger than those seen in the picture) were regularly falling off. Not only were twenty kg pieces of metal raining down a drop of up to 30 metres, it impacted the ability to safely use the ladder. Again the fix when they broke was pretty simple, take the lift above it and rappel down to carry out a repair.

This was OK when the lift and ladder defects were in different turbines. The problem came when we started to see defects in the same turbine. We couldn’t get up the ladders to fix the lift, and we couldn’t get up the lift to fix the ladder. We had a couple of several million pound asset which we could do nothing with. If we tried to climb people could be hit by falling debris, the ladder could fall or there may be no way to get down in an emergency. The lift just wouldn’t work, or would cause further damage which would make it dangerous.

We figured out the ladder was actually secured by solid steel bars at each platform and join. Weight bearing wasn’t an issue, but stability was. We got the engineers and H&S to figure out how much lateral movement was acceptable, based on the number of stanchions missing. As long as we had a certain amount fitted, then it was safe to climb, we just had to avoid the falling debris. For that we took a triple approach, we got drones with cameras and did an inspection before entering the turbine. We also used selfie sticks to inspect before entering each level. Finally we took the lift as soon as we could; we would fix the guide brackets at low level and then take the lift up. Finally we took an extra emergency evacuation kit for individuals in the tower; if everything else went wrong and the ladder and lift became unusable while people were at height, at least we could still get people out.

Chinese Red Cooked Chicken

Equipment

• Pressure Cooker

Ingredients

• 1 fryer, cut up
• 2 tablespoons oil
• 3/4 cup water
• 1/2 cup soy sauce
• 3/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
• Juice of 1 fresh lemon
• 1 bunch green onions, finely chopped
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch
• 1/4 cup water
• 2 tablespoons Chinese sesame oil

Instructions

1. Put the oil into the pressure cooker pot and lightly brown the chicken pieces.
2. While they are browning, mix together the water, soy sauce, ground ginger, sugar and fresh lemon juice and set aside.
3. Place about 2 tablespoons of the greenest parts of the green onions into a small dish and set aside.
4. Mix the cornstarch and water together until smooth and set aside.
5. When the chicken pieces are nicely browned, pour in the soy sauce mixture and add the white and light green parts of the green onions. Stir into the chicken to coat the pieces with the sauce.
6. Place lid on pressure cooker tightly. Put pressure regulator weight in place. Leave heat under cooker on high until the weight begins to jiggle. Lower heat immediately to a level that keeps the weight just barely moving. Time from this point on for 12 minutes. Remove pot from heat and cool.
7. When the pressure has been reduced, open the pot and place back on the burner. Using a slotted spoon, remove the chicken pieces to a serving dish.
8. Stir the cornstarch-water mixture once more and, while gently stirring the sauce, pour the cornstarch mixture into the sauce to thicken. Cook for 1 or 2 minutes over low heat and then add the sesame oil.
9. Pour the sauce over the chicken and sprinkle the remaining green onions over the top.
10. Serve over fluffy white rice.

What has been the reaction in China to US President Donald Trump’s recent comments on the US-China trade war?

China reacts to actions, it seldom reacts to comments.

When Trump raised tariffs to 34%, China’s counter was also 34% + non-tariffs. Trump said China over-reacted, made a mistake, and did what it could not afford to do (to retaliate against the US).

When Trump raised the tariffs to 145%, China countered and took the total to 125% + non-tariffs. China then said it would not play the number game with the US. But if US escalates, it will counter in other ways.

Trump said things all the time. I don’t think China takes a catalogue of them. He said he would visit China by a certain date, or Xi Jinping would visit the US by a certain date. Did not happen. He said he has a good relationship with Xi Jinping and is confident of a trade deal with China. China made no comment. He continuously urges Xi Jinping to call him to start a negotiation, but Xi keeps his distance.

As I said, China reacts to actions. Trump made these speeches, but also tightens Biden’s tech sanctions, the latest is to ban Nvidia selling the H20 chips to China. China has also counter-sanctioned with bans and restrictions of rare earths minerals to the US. It could do more if it wishes.

Now Treasury Secretary Bissent said the situation with China is unsustainable and hinted at a de-escalation. He said there has been no negotiations, but repeat what his boss said many times, that he is confident a deal would be reached.

It is the US which is doing all the talking and shootings. Let’s wait to see what happens.

Meanwhile, the pressures are on the US. The financial markets are in disarray, the threat of recession has risen, and the tariffs have not bitten yet. GDP in 1Q25 barely made the blue mark despite advanced purchases to beat the tariffs. China’s position is more sanguine. Its GDP in 1Q25 made 5.4%.

3 American myths we don’t believe anymore after living in Europe

What is the secret to making great chili?

About 10 years ago, I won the Riverside County Chili Cook off with two categories. I won the “No Bean” and the “Overall Best” category for my 100% authentic White Boy (Wedo) Chili Verde, which is green chili. I also sold that recipe for $1,500 at the time and now some restaurant in New Mexico uses it with Hatch Chiles. Mine chili is still better. I didn’t give them the secret ingredient. You can do this with Beef or Chicken, but I prefer Pork.

Ingredients:
5lb Pork Butt roast, heavy Marbling – Marbling is fat, fat is flavor
1 Lg Yellow or White Onion – Softball size
1 bulb of Garlic
1 tablespoon fine ground black pepper
1 tspn of Coarse Kosher Salt – salt is in the broth, so careful not to over-salt
1 bunch of green onions
2 bunches of Cilantro
8 Green or Hatch Chiles
12 Jalapenos
1 Habanero – add a few more if you like it hot, also add seeds to add heat
36 Tomatios – Tomatios are nightshade, like tomato, but they’re green & covered by a leaf
2 Qts of Pork Broth / or Vegetable Broth – Pork broth is hard to find, so veggie broth works
1 Qt Purified Water

Directions:
Roast the Tomatios and all the Peppers in the grill for 15 mins
Cut the Pork Butt roast in 2 x 2 inch cubes – larger pieces mean it doesn’t disintegrate
Quarter the Tomatios – you want larger chunks and prevents loss of texture
Dice the roasted veggies – finely
Dice the Onions – finely
Carefully roast the diced garlic in a pan with olive oil – be careful, very easy to burn garlic

Sear the outer surface of the Pork Cubes, until they’re golden brown with a nice sear – this helps to lock in the flavor and keep the juices in the meat, so it comes out tender and juicy and not dry.

Deglaze the Pan – Grab some broth or water and pour a few ounces into the pan and get all that baked on fat and meat proteins that you cooked off the meat, and add that to the mix. That is pure flavor, waste nothing.

Combine all the processed ingredients into a large Stainless steel pot and cook on medium until it reaches a boil, and then reduce heat to low-medium, cover and walk away for several hours. Its pretty simple. The hardest part of this recipe is sitting there for 6–8 hours and smelling this delicious Chili stewing. Half the time I make this, I end up filling up on my various tasting through the process of making it and when its actually ready, I’m not usually hungry.

The secret ingredient is love and probably some sweat (flavor). If you do this correctly, you should see why I won the Chili Cook-off. It also helped that I was literally the only applicant that came up with Green Chili. Every other entry was Red.

Cheers!

Bless Me, Father, for I Have Sinned

Written in response to: “Write a story with a character pouring out their emotions.“

“After all these years, Ronin, you’re still putting in twice as many hours as the rest of the staff. You’ve been running on fumes ever since COVID. You used to look like a linebacker, but now you’re a string bean. You should take some time to rest and take care of yourself.”

“The patients need me.”

“You’ve undoubtedly heard the rumor that White Birch may not be here much longer because we’re running out of money. It’s true.”

“All the more reason to help as many souls as possible.”

***

Weakened by heart disease, eighty-four-year-old Brandon Bohm manages to croak, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned… So much pain just to breathe…”

Ronin leans over his bed. “Is there something I can do? Perhaps a special prayer?”

“…Just listen…”

***

Brandon grinds his teeth, stepping on the car’s accelerator.

“Promise me you’ll take your medication, Beth.”

“But it makes me sleepy.”

A tall, attractive, gray-eyed brunette with undeniable style and poise, Beth is the envy of all the wives whenever Brandon can coax her into attending one of Arlington Financial’s lavish parties.

“You need to pay attention to your mental health,” Brandon scolds. “I don’t want you wandering around the neighborhood naked again.”

“The neighbors didn’t mind. Some of them took pictures.”

“This isn’t a joke, Beth.”

Beth cups her head in her hands, sobbing. “You’re still punishing me for Albert. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”

“You left our son alone to toy with the mailman.”

“…We were only talking,” Beth says between tears.

“You were flirting while our son walked out the back door, fell in the pool, and drowned.”

“…And I’ve been paying for it ever since…”

“You smoke three packs a day. You don’t eat,” Brandon snaps. “You walk around the house talking and laughing to yourself, and you see things that aren’t there. You’ve had so many afflictions the psychiatrist can’t keep up with them. You’re making yourself sick so people will pity you, and you’ll get more attention. And you know what? That makes me sick.”

Brandon pulls the car into Rexall’s parking lot. He bounds out of the car but stops short, sniffing the air.

“I smell anti-freeze. Must have a leak. Why don’t you get your prescription while I check.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll dance around naked in the aisles?”

“Just go.”

Brandon lifts the hood of the car, checking the engine.

A battered Chevy parks near the store’s front door. Leaving the car running, a jittery man with a big nose exchanges glances with Brandon before skulking inside.

A loud pop stops Brandon from playing Mr. Fix It.

The jittery man runs out of the door, dashing to his car. Smoking the wheels, he speeds off.

The store’s pharmacist races outside. Spotting Brandon, he yells, “Call 9-1-1! We’ve been robbed, and he shot a woman!”

***

Brandon struggles to speak, his voice a whisper. “…I’ve been living with the guilt for over forty years…”

“It’s difficult to care for a loved one with mental illness,” Ronin replies, patting Brandon’s hand.

“…Her doctor called after the funeral… He’d found a tumor in Beth’s x-rays. It had been pressing against her skull… He said the tumor and her guilt were why she acted so strangely…”

“It’s not your fault, my son.”

“…Yes, it is… I couldn’t take her behavior anymore. I hired that man to shoot Beth…”

***

Brandon Bohm’s confession hangs heavy over Ronin, who reminds himself that he’s duty-bound to keep it a secret.

Brandon’s secret dies with him two days later.

***

Lionel Liversay’s criminal past is well-known. He served twenty-five years for poisoning a co-worker. Now sixty-six, Lionel needs a heart transplant, but his reputation and his rare blood type have left him with little hope of getting one.

Ronin and Lionel eye each other guardedly as they sip their tea.

“This stuff takes nasty, but at least it’s warm,” Lionel complains.

Ronin makes the sign of the cross over Lionel.

“You should save your piety for someone who believes in that crap,” Lionel says.

“It’s never too late to give yourself to the Lord, my son.”

“Sure, if it’s Jack Lord, Jon Lord, or Majorie Lord.”

“Still defiant, still cynical, even at this stage,” Ronin comments. “Who hurt you, Lionel?”

“…Everyone…”

***

Logan Liversay musses his brother’s hair, punching him on the arm. Now that he’s sixteen and hanging out with the cool kids in school, Logan has stepped up his lifetime harassment of his twelve-year-old brother.

“What’s that you’re doin’, squirt? You playin’ mad scientist again? You know, all the kids at school think you’re a weirdo, a dork. You’re actin’ like Doctor Frankenstein is messin’ up my action with the girls, and I’m getting funny looks from the guys on the basketball team ‘cause of you. You need to straighten up and fly right.”

Lionel ignores his brother, mixing the chemicals he’s created with his chemistry set.

“You hear me, squirt? Maybe you’ll hear this!” Logan says, punching Lionel on the arm.

“OW!”

Lionel’s arm jerks backward, the solution in the test tube splashing onto Logan’s arm.

Logan shrieks, “You psycho! You burned me!”

Lionel turns his head in time to see his brother’s fist hit him.

When Logan is finished beating his brother, all that remains of Lionel’s chemistry set are bits of broken glass.

Lionel and Logan sit quietly at the dinner table as their parents scream at each other from one end of the house to the other. Her eyes blackened, their mother leaves, never to be seen again.

The rest of Luther Liversay’s dinner consists of the three tumblers of Vodka he drinks while belittling his sons and cursing his departed spouse.

“You’re a useless little ant, you know that, Lionel?” Luther grumbles. “You think all that scientific mumbo jumbo and those little test tubes are gonna help you make a living?”

“Maybe I could cure cancer someday. Maybe I could help you if you ever get sick.”

“Me? I’m healthy as a horse. It’s you who looks sickly.”

Luther wobbles as he rises from his chair.

“…I got a cure for you…”

Grabbing Lionel by his long hair, Luther pulls his head back, pouring a glass of vodka down his throat.

Lionel gags.

“Don’t you dare puke! Don’t waste good booze!”

Luther’s anger fails to subside, even after Lionel mixes him another drink.

Logan gobbles down his dinner so he won’t have to be in the same room as his father and brother. Later that evening, he doubles over, complaining about stomach cramps. Over the next few days, he becomes violently ill.

As the paramedics carry Logan to the ambulance, Lionel whispers, “Bye, squirt.”

Logan falls into a coma on his way to the hospital. He dies two days later.

***

Within a week, Luther develops the same agonizing stomach pains as his late son and is taken to the hospital.

Lionel can’t hide his joy as he watches his father try to contain his pain.

“What are you grinning at, you useless ant?”

“Maybe I can help you.”

Luther can only summon enough strength to ball up his fists.

“You did this to me. You and your test tubes and your potions.”

“Yep. Like I said, I could help you… But I won’t.”

Luther lingers for another day as his intestines dissolve.

Luther’s autopsy reveals traces of hydrofluoric acid. Lionel tells the doctors that Luther, a metal worker, had probably been exposed to it while on the job.

***

Lionel boomerangs through the child services system, returning to an orphanage whenever his latest family becomes too sick to care for him or one of his science experiments blows up his room.

After working in numerous pharmacies, Lionel works as a lab assistant at Medix Chemical Company. When Lionel offers to make coffee for his coworkers, they merely view it as a kind gesture.

***

Lionel tells Father McIntire he might have gone on to become a Nobel Prize winner if he hadn’t kept a diary.

Lionel made Roger Ratelle a cup of Earl Grey tea on a Monday morning. He found the taste so sour that he only took a mouthful before throwing it away. Telling their supervisor he felt ill, Ratelle left work. He began to hallucinate, crashed his car, and was eventually taken to hospital. He died on Tuesday.

A second co-worker, Mitzi LeForge, was admitted to the hospital on Wednesday with numb legs, breathing difficulties, and chest pains. Her skin was so tender she couldn’t bear the weight of the bed sheets, and all her hair fell out. But LeForge survived, and when the police questioned her, she mentioned feeling sick after drinking a cup of coffee Lionel had given her.

The police searched Lionel’s apartment and found twelve pages of notes describing how he’d poisoned Ratelle and LeForge. They also found four types of poison in his kitchen.

“But you only served time for Roger Ratelle’s murder,” Ronin notes.

Lionel sips his tea. “Yeah. Luckily, the police only found my notes on Ratelle and LeForge, not my diary. Still, I figure I did a year for everybody I poisoned.”

Lionel yawns. “Don’t you have a christening or catechism class? I’m tired. I need a nap.”

“I’ll leave you alone then. Make sure you finish your tea. It’ll be good for you.”

***

The next afternoon, Killian stops Ronin in the hallway. Killian, who keeps an unlit vape pen in his mouth to pacify his urge to smoke, earnestly bites down on its stem.

“Lionel Liversay passed last night. He had a convulsion. It wasn’t pretty or pleasant. Shame. I got word earlier today that they’d found a compatible subject for the heart transplant he needed. He would have recovered if he’d hung on for a few more hours.”

***

A few days later, Killian knocks on Ronin’s office door.

Killian’s vape pipe points at Ronin like a divining rod searching for water. “I know you’re busy, but can you talk to Homer today? He doesn’t have any family or friends. The doctors say he’s got dementia. Homer can’t remember his own life, so he makes things up. Yesterday, he told me he was there when President McKinley was shot.”

“He probably means Kennedy,” Ronin says.

“He said McKinley’s wife, Ida, had epilepsy, and one time, when she had a fit at dinner, McKinley threw a handkerchief over her face, hoping the guests wouldn’t notice. The way Homer tells a story makes it sound like he really was there.”

“I’d expect that from a man with no last name who signed himself in and paid in cash. He enjoys being a man of mystery.”

***

Homer is one of those lucky individuals who looks infinitely younger than he probably is. The nurses have a pool to guess his age, which they estimate is between fifty-five and eighty. He has the nimble body of a gymnast, an abundant shock of styled silver hair, and his face is wrinkle-free. His tender brown eyes develop a playful glint whenever he tells one of his outrageous stories.

“Are you in pain, Homer? Feeling foggy?”

“I felt far worse at Shiloh.”

“The Battle of Shiloh was in 1862, Homer.”

“That’s right. April sixth and seventh. Twenty-three thousand casualties… Some of the wounded soldiers gave off a greenish-blue glow. We called it ‘Angel’s Glow.’ The soldiers who had the glow recovered faster like they were blessed… Yeah, I saw a lot of suffering then. It was heartbreaking on the Titanic too…”

“Are you saying you were on the Titanic when it sank?”

“I was an electrician. I got out just before they shut the watertight doors to try and save the ship. I was lucky… Did you know there were seventeen newlywed couples on board? Seven new husbands and twelve new wives survived.”

“How do you know details about events that others don’t?” Ronin asks.

“I told you before, Father, I’m a time traveler.”

“And I’m Francis of Assisi. I bet you’re just a better internet surfer than the rest of us.”

Homer’s leprechaun charm dissolves. “It’s nearly time for me to go. I want to thank everyone for letting me rest here for a while… I hear White Birch is in financial trouble… I can help.”

“Unless you’ve got access to a goldmine, there’s not much you can do.”

“I’ve got four million dollars, and I’m willing to give it to you.”

Ronin tries to contain his laughter. “How and where did you get four million dollars?”

***

Homer’s story begins in Norwalk, Connecticut, in June 1975.

Homer greets Sanford DeNiro, the President of the Second National Bank, with a warm hello.

DeNiro looks up at the clock, his bushy eyebrows rising. “Right on time, as usual, Homer. You keep showing this kind of dedication and excellent work, and you’ll have my job!”

The bank’s other teller, short-haired, perky Crissy Coyne, smiles, muttering, “Suck up.”

“How’s Dan and the kids?” Homer asks.

“The same. We spend money faster than we make it. But I still love them.”

“Don’t worry. Dan’ll get a promotion. And your kids are destined for greatness.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Crissy replies. “Hey, did you hear the latest? Wells Fargo is bringing four million dollars here this afternoon. Can you imagine getting your hands on that much cash?”

“Yes, I can,” Homer answers, whistling as he counts the money in his cash drawer.

“How do you do it, Homer? How are you able to stay so happy? We get paid next to nothing, yet you have beautiful clothes and a sports car and live in a gated community.”

“I told you. I’m a time traveler.”

Crissy rolls her eyes. “Just admit it, you’re either dealing drugs or gambling.”

“Okay, you got me. I’ve got a hot tip for you, Crissy. Keep this date in mind: February 11, 1990. Thirty-five to one odds. Bet on Buster Douglas against Mike Tyson.”

“That’s fifteen years from now. And who’s Mike Tyson?”

***

“The wife and I are spending the weekend in Banksville,” DeNiro says to Homer. “You don’t mind closing up, do you?”

“Of course not, sir.”

Smiling, Crissy mouths, “Suck up.”

***

Homer locks the front door of the bank, turning off the lights.

He goes to the vault. Stuffing six million dollars in three sacks, he walks out the back door, disappearing.

Homer spends the next fifty years enjoying a bachelor lifestyle, spending his free time sailing, traveling to exotic locales, whipping around in his sports car, and telling inquisitive acquaintances he made his fortune in junk bonds. He also occasionally robs other banks.

***

Ronin smiles broadly. “That’s a wonderful yarn, Homer.”

“It’s the truth… Go to my house…Check the Kennedy wall…”

***

Ronin arrives at Homer’s house as a tractor tears down the four-car garage.

He walks toward a well-kept house, slowed by a gruff voice yelling, “Hey! Where the hell do you think you’re goin’?”

Ronin turns to face Stash Diesel, the stocky demolition team foreman.

Noticing Ronin’s collar, he says, “Sorry, Father. I was hopin’ you were J.P. Morgan.”

“The financier? He died a hundred years ago.”

“His name’s on the deed,” Diesel replies.

“I’m here to look into something for Homer, the man who lived here. Maybe you can help me.”

“His neighbor said the owner was hardly ever here, that he spent most of the time travelin’,” Diesel says. “He said the owner forgot to pay his property taxes. Nobody can find him. Some real estate agent now owns the property, and he wants to build a condo here, so this is where I come in.”

Diesel follows Ronin inside.

The living room is a treasure trove of gold vases, hand-carved tables, luxurious Italian sofas, and mahogany chairs.

“I was expecting IKEA furniture,” Diesel comments. “Somebody should take this stuff out before we demo the house. I bet it’s worth a fortune.”

Ronin picks up an unusual art deco lamp shaped like a planet. Turning it over, he looks at the label.

“…World’s Fair, 1939… You’re right. Everything in here is a valuable antique.”

“Where’d you say the guy who lived here is?”

“I didn’t. He’s in hospice care. Dementia.”

“I’ll go halfsies with you on everything here, Father.”

Ronin sees the painting of John Kennedy on the far wall.

“Do you have a sledgehammer?”

***

Diesel wheezes heavily as he destroys another section of the wall.

“You sure about this, Father?”

“The nurses think Homer was telling another one of his tall tales, but he seemed serious when he spoke to me.”

Diesel grunts as the hammer punches another hole in the wall, revealing a small bookcase with three shelves.

A sack sits on each shelf.

Diesel grabs one of the sacks, opening it. Reaching inside, he pulls out a stack of hundred-dollar bills.

Diesel reads the lettering on the bag. “Second National Bank, Norwalk Connecticut.”

***

Killian sits back contentedly in his office chair, twirling the vape pipe around in his mouth. “I can’t thank you enough for finding such a generous donor, Ronin. I want to thank him. Are you sure he wants to remain anonymous?”

“It’s a condition of his donation.”

“Two million dollars will keep White Birch going for a long time.”

“I should make my rounds, starting with Homer.”

Killian throws the vape pen in the trash. “The nursing staff went to check on him this morning. He’s supposed to be forgetful, confused. But he managed to walk out of here. He’s vanished. The only thing he left behind was a gag gift.”

Killian pulls a sailor’s hat out of his desk drawer, showing it to Ronin.

The lettering on the cap reads: RMS Titanic.

Shorpy

Why Tallinn, Estonia was the best place for us…but we still left.

Strange Characters

Written in response to: “Start or end your story with a character making a cup of tea for themself or someone else.“