Jayne Sandman’s Saturday evening soiree was as full of awkward groping as a teen party with no parents. Those who had heard the rumor were trying to make sure everyone else knew that they were in the know. Yet, nobody wanted to be the first to just blurt it out like a yokel from Manassas or Frederick. Many hints were dropped about a probable forthcoming announcement from a Senator from flyover country.
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Sometimes we read things! And then write about it!
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There was an awkward pause and the three men looked again toward the corpse seated on the toilet as if they expected some change. Nobody wanted to look, but it somehow seemed disrespectful to not look.
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books, books, books
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Every woman’s worst nighmare, thought Angelica, your boyfriend going violent after he learns that you aborted your pregnancy. Earlier, Moira had said that her current boyfriend was some sort of church leader and that she had kept the pregnancy from him. It had to be one of the patriarchal religions since progressive boys understood it wasn’t their decision to make.
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Some of us are reading. Some of us are packing our books.
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This was what the patriarchy made women endure – aborting in anonymous public toilets, little better than the back-alley abortions the crones had told her about. There should be numerous warm, safe public walk-in abortatoriums staffed by caring women. With onsite childcare, of course. Women should also have mandatory access to abortion doulas in times of need. Her breathing quickened as she imagined herself leading America down a shining path towards full health equity for women.
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Reardon snorted at the grinning skeleton with the outlandish purple hair waving at him. “Uh-huh.” A routine crazy girl call, and this one wasn’t bad looking; he had a good view of her in her bra and panties playing with the skeleton. Probably she wasn’t actually crazy, but had been drugged by some scumbag. He planned to follow up on her in the hospital once the thorazine wore off and maybe score a date.
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“To say that the squirrels are angry is an understatement,” said the green brain pulsating in time with the dialogue. There was no actual sound within the chamber, except for the sussuration of the life support system which kept the chamber at a perfect three hundred ten kelvins at Earth normal sea level pressure, etc. Gilhooly and Kestrel didn’t hear the brains so much as they were painfully aware that the brains were streaming directly into their auditory cortices through means unknown.
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Some of us read. Some of us read more than others. Some of us even read interesting things.
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trshmnstr tells a (possibly NSFW) tale.
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All it took was a simple bacterial contaminant.
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Practicality necessitated that public restrooms should have poop knives, but the security requirements of a federal courthouse prevented it. He walked from the innermost stall to the sink nearest to the door. As he reached the sink he heard water splashing onto the tile floor from the stalls behind him. Ramesh hurried through washing his hands – he counted to twenty as always, but much more quickly than normal. His phone kept chirping, not a good sign. He reached for a paper towel and dried his hands while looking back in the mirror at the stalls to check whether a stream of water was flowing his way – fortunately not. Finally he dried his hands and exited to the public corridor before checking his phone. A livestream from the Thought! Magazine commenters mocking the boss was going viral. He was going to be livid about that.
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This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to cause you harm, or distress.
Unless you don’t like men, or hunting, then you may have issues.
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So many books, so little time. (You know…if we want to remain gainfully employed.)
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Harvey and Ted push forward on their journey after losing Tim.
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Yeah, even our dogs read at a higher level than today’s middle schoolers.
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CPRM is back continuing the story no one asked for: A Path To Wellness: part 12
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