JasonGastrich.com

“It’s getting bad! Can you believe it?” the Democratic Party’s chairman said.

“No, I can’t. My wife said the White House is starting to freak out,” Judas Conway replied.

“Well, President Drumpf has a gigantic problem on his hands. It’s just a matter of time before he makes some horrible decisions and his popularity tanks,” the chairman said.

“I agree. Is there anything that I can do?” Conway asked.

“The governor just issued a stay-at-home order for the entire state of New York. Only essential workers are allowed to leave home, so the economy is going to suffer like never before and this is just the beginning. Why don’t you suggest to your wife that the president arrest the governor?” the chairman asked.

“Will do. She should be home soon,” Conway said.

“Excellent. Stay well my friend,” the chairman said and hung up the phone.

“Our satellites are beginning to run out of disk space. What would you like me to do sir?” Wang Tang asked.

“How many more days until the hard drives are full of data?” Li asked.

“In approximately 24 hours they’ll be full sir,” Wang said.

“Didn’t you say it would take until May or possibly June?” Li asked.

“Yes sir. That was my original estimate, but we already have data from nearly 500,000 infected people,” Wang said.

“500,000 people? They’re only reporting about 340,000 cases though,” Li said.

“That’s what they’re reporting, but the virus has already uploaded data to our satellites from nearly 500,000 Americans,” Wang said.

“Ok. Finish acquiring the data and then download it to our computers. Let me know when it’s finished and I’ll let the president know about your progress,” Li said and Wang agreed and continued working.

One day later the satellites’ hard drives were full, so Wang began downloading the data to their computers.

“Hi Jonathan! How are you doing?” Stefani Germanowski asked.

“Hey girl! I’m great! How are you?” Jonathan Baker replied.

“I’m ok. All this suffering and dying is making me depressed though,” Stef said.

“I feel you. I feel you. What can I do you for?” Jon asked.

“I need a big favor from you and it won’t cost you a penny,” Stef said.

“Ok. Just say the word. You know I love you and everything you stand for,” Jon said. They were icons to a rich, homosexual minority in their country and around the world.

“We are raising money for charity and we need you to talk to me on national TV and say you are donating $10 million. You won’t actually donate it, but after you pledge your donation people will follow suit and make donations. Nobody will ever know because we’ll get way over $10 million In the end,” Stef said.

“No problem. Give me a call and I will pledge $10 million. Anything else hun?” Jon said.

“Oh my God! Thank you! Thank you so much! You’re the best Jon,” Stef said.

Later that day Stef was the guest on a TV program. She called Jon and he pledged $10 million and Stef was right. Donations began flooding in afterwards and by the end of the fundraiser she had raised over 10 times that much, so nobody else knew that it was a dishonest seed.

“Have any priests gotten the virus yet?” John Bruni asked.

“No, no. The only person to have it in the Vatican so far is somebody from the clinic,” the pope said.

“Praise the Lord. Employees in the museums and the merchandising office are getting antsy though,” John said.

“Are they sick or just afraid?” the pope asked.

“Three of them are sick, but they are all afraid,” John said.

“Send them home to rest if they are unwell. Maybe they have the virus,” the pope said.

“They could have it. They have been around many other people and the virus has sickened and killed many people in Italy,” John said.

“Do you think it is a curse from God?” Vittorio Marechiaro asked.

“Who is the virus killing?” the pope asked.

“Many people get it and live, but it is very contagious. It seems to prey on the sick, the weak, the frail and especially cigarette smokers and the elderly,” John replied. The pope slowly turned his head, stared at John with a knowing look and nodded.

“We can’t have employees here if they’re sick, so please send them home today,” the pope said.

“I will. I will dismiss them and ask them to stay home for 14 days and we will disinfect everything,” John said.

“One more thing. Tell Gabriel to announce they have the virus and will be home or at the hospital until they fully recover,” the pope said.

Later that morning John sent three sick employees home and told Gabriel to make an announcement and he did. However, the employees were never tested and didn’t actually have the virus.

“Should we reduce production?” a mining representative asked.

“I don’t understand why we would need to,” a Chinese official replied.

“Demand has decreased,” the representative said.

“Why has demand decreased? Are they mining more in Western Australia?” the official asked.

“I don’t think so. It’s probably because of the Chita mine,” the representative said.

“The Chita mine? They don’t have enough rare earth minerals to supply our trading partners. Do they?” the official asked.

“I think they do, but I don’t think anybody else knows it,” the representative said.

“Can I see some recent satellite photos of the Chita mines?” the official asked a room of government officials that were assembled to discuss the situation.

Several minutes later a man walked in the room with a briefcase and opened it on the table. There were satellite photos of a busy mine in Chita. It was thriving unlike the way it was when they checked it last time.

“I see. Do you think we should decrease production or create a stockpile?” the official asked.

“Everyone will need the elements eventually and we could probably sell them now if we drop the price,” the representative said.

They discussed the pros and cons of these two options for an hour. Finally, the official made a decision.

“I have the solution. It’s counterintuitive. Let’s increase production, create a stockpile, sell the elements at the same price and use them in the devices that we build,” he said and the other officials agreed, so that’s what they did.

As the soldiers ate chicken and rice in the mess hall, they started talking about their mission in Iraq.

“Did you see the protest today?” Private First Class Johnson asked and shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth.

“Yeah, but there were only a few hundred people this time. They burned flags and chanted. Same ole stuff,” Private First Class Smith replied.

“The heat is almost unbearable. It’s Africa hot out there!” Private Second Class Vargas exclaimed and they laughed.

Major General Sanchez walked by their table and the soldiers quickly became silent and sat up straight, but he didn’t say anything. He just kept walking to a stairway that led to a room upstairs.

Sanchez closed the door behind him and sat at a table with six men. They were assembled to discuss new developments, so he sat at the head of the table.

“What do you have for me?” Sanchez asked the group. They were special ops leaders stationed in Iraq.

“We need to broaden our search. We put out some feelers and now we think the target might have been born with two eyes not one,” Alpha commander said and adjusted his green beret.

“Two eyes? Does he wear an eyepatch or something?” Sanchez asked.

“Possibly. Their scriptures are ambiguous and the people are desperate. I don’t think they care at this point. He might have lost an eye in battle or he could be faking it,” Alpha commander said. Sanchez nodded and looked at Bravo commander for his report.

“We hear the same thing from our bearded bastards. The Dajjal could be hiding in plain sight because he might be blind in one eye, but it could look like a functioning eye,” Bravo commander said.

“Then we need to expand our search. Charlie, what do have?” Sanchez asked the leader of the Charlie group.

“The Iraqis seem to be increasingly energized, so we suspect that they are being led by someone. Our heavy troop presence is starting to be a distraction though. Some of our sources have disappeared and we think they are under significant pressure to resist helping us,” Charlie commander said.

“Ok. We can draw down our forces. I will work on that. How about you three? What do you have for me?” Sanchez asked three American-Iraqis. They were local religious leaders that were planted by the U.S. military, but their deep cover tricked even the locals into thinking they were born and raised in Iraq and following Allah.

“Over the last three weeks many worshipers have become radicalized. They don’t come to the mosque anymore and we hear they are preparing an insurgence. We aren’t sure who is behind it though,” one imam said.

“He’s right. Our devout Muslims that typically want peace are being recruited by someone and leaving the mosque,” the second imam said. Sanchez looked expectantly at the third imam, so he spoke.

“I agree with everything that has been said. The large troop presence is making our work more difficult and I think the time is getting near. If he doesn’t reveal himself to everyone we are going to figure out who he is,” the third imam said.

Major General Sanchez stood and thanked them. He shook each man’s hand and saw them to the door. After they left he shut the door and sat back down at the table and started drafting a partial troop withdrawal resolution.

“Are these all of the test subjects?” Dr. Yin asked.

“Yes. This is everybody. We will give 10 of them the virus and six of them a placebo,” Dr. Yang said.

“I have the needles ready. Just give me the word and I will inject them,” Yin said.

The doctors extracted a virus from a bat and isolated it because they wanted to infect test subjects to develop a treatment and vaccine. Since bats were prevalent in their country and markets they knew it was only a matter of time before people caught it, spread it and died. They hoped to get ahead of it.

“Let’s do it, Dr. Yin. Please proceed,” Yang said. Yin spent the next 30 minutes carefully stabbing each subject with a needle. All of them thought that they were getting the virus even though six of them weren’t actually getting it.

The subjects had agreed to stay in the Wuhan laboratory for up to 90 days. The doctors thought this would give them plenty of time to infect the subjects and give them a treatment that they had developed. They wanted to test it at various stages of the virus’ development to discover its efficacy and the best timing for it.

The test subjects were being handsomely compensated for their time and bravery. They were fed and lived in a dormitory together. In addition to learning about the virus and testing the treatment the doctors also wanted to see how contagious it was. This was part of the reason for the control group.

Within a few days the test subjects started showing symptoms. They had fevers, temperatures and nausea. They were in good health, so the doctors expected them to live and to develop antibodies that they would examine and use in future treatments.

All of the patients were tested for mental illness before they were selected. The doctors thought the subjects were of sound mind and body. However, on Day 10 one of them was fed up.

“I can’t take this anymore. I think they are trying to kill us!” he yelled.

“Me too. I feel like I am going to die,” another subject said and started coughing and throwing up.

The doors were locked, so they couldn’t leave, but there was a window. The insolent patient grabbed a metal chair and threw it through the window. It shattered sending glass everywhere. Without hesitation he jumped out the window and ran away. The other patients watched in disbelief as security guards rushed into the room, but it was too late. He was already gone.

It was the middle of the day, so the insolent subject was afraid of being caught. He figured Huanan Seafood Market was so busy that they wouldn’t find him there, so he ran there as fast as he could.

As the security guards raced after him one of them received a call from Dr. Yin.

“Where is he going?” Yin asked.

“He ran into Huanan Seafood Market. It’s very busy, so it will be difficult to find him without shutting it down,” the security guard said.

“Let him go. Come back and make sure nobody else leaves,” Yin said and they returned to the laboratory.

Dr. Yang looked at Dr. Yin. All sorts of thoughts were racing through their minds.

“We need to develop this treatment more than ever now,” Yang said.

“That’s true. What if the people in the market get infected?” Yin said.

“Then we’ll know it’s contagious on Day 10,” Yang said.

“What if we are blamed for it?” Yin asked.

“We won’t be. If he infects anybody they will just think they got it from the bats in the market,” Yang said and Yin agreed.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Juan asked.

“Yeah. I really need the money,” Julio replied.

“Ok. Well, some people die you know. What if you die?” Juan asked.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take bro. I can’t pay my rent or car payment or even buy food. I’m broke as a joke,” Julio said.

Juan and Julio were old friends and Juan was diagnosed with 2019 Novel Coronavirus. Julio wanted Juan to give him the virus, so he could sell his plasma for $600 for the antibodies. The plasma with the antibodies was going to be used to treat very sick people.

“Fine. Just don’t blame me or sue me man. I should make you sign a waiver,” Juan said and they laughed.

“Thanks. I’ll be right over,” Julio said and hung up the phone.

Julio drove straight to Juan’s house and spent an hour talking to him in his living room. A few days later he started coughing and had a fever. He didn’t develop any other symptoms though. After he felt better he sold his plasma and made $600.

“Well, the tests say negative,” Nurse Alex said.

“I don’t care what they say. They definitely have the coronavirus,” Dr. Katz said.

They had treated 20 patients in the Bronx that were obviously infected with the virus. It was like no other virus they had seen and they had six symptoms: fever, chills, shortness of breath, muscle pain, headache and loss of smell.

“So what do you suggest?” Alex asked.

“Well, we need to quarantine them and tell them the truth that we think the tests are wrong or they could spread it to other people,” Katz said.

“Ok. Why do you think we got a false negative?” Alex asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. The tests obviously don’t work,” Katz said.

“Why?” Alex asked.

“Human error is my first assumption. Perhaps they were not made well,” Katz said.

“Do you think some wants people to spread the virus in New York?” Alex asked.

“It would be awfully demented if they did,” Katz said.

“Maybe they didn’t want an accurate count of confirmed cases,” Alex said.

“All I know is this could mean many more people are walking around with the coronavirus without realizing it. They could be acquiring immunity, spreading it or even dying from it, but we won’t know until we have accurate tests,” Katz said.

“Do you want to tell the patients or should I?” Alex asked.

“I will,” Katz said. He told the patients that they needed to be quarantined until they were well, so they wouldn’t spread the virus and they listened to him.

“Cough, cough.”

“Are you ok? You don’t have COVID do you?” Mark Herrera asked his friend Ronald McDonald.

“I doubt it. I feel fine. Are you excited about the big rally?” Ron asked.

“Yeah right. Those people are crazy,” Mark said and took a bite of sushi.

“What are they going to have you do?” Ron asked and coughed again without covering his mouth.

“I don’t know. Maybe sell MAGA hats or popcorn. Sometimes I sell sodas or take tickets,” Mark said. It was only a few days before he was scheduled to work at a Trump rally.

“At least he’s funny. Right?” Ron said in a tongue-in-cheek way. He was a Democrat and didn’t like Trump.

“Not really. He’s like a carnival barker. His supporters are like trained animals. They boo and hiss on command and cheer when they’re told. I couldn’t wait for the last one to end,” Mark said.

Ron started feeling feverish, but he didn’t want to worry Mark, so he didn’t say anything. They talked in Mark’s house for about an hour and then Ron left.

A couple of days later Mark felt a little under the weather, but he took some DayQuil and felt better. He needed the money, so he didn’t want to miss work.

During the Trump rally Mark did all sorts of jobs. He came in contact with lots of employees and attendees too. A few days later the media reported that hundreds of people came down with the 2019 Novel Coronavirus at the Trump rally. Some of them even developed COVID-19 and died.

“Brutus has only served six years of his 24 year sentence. He has needed to be separated from the other prisoners over a dozen times for fighting. He has also spent six months in solitary confinement. He clearly isn’t ready for parole and poses a danger to society,” attorney Jack Sayles said.

“Ok. Please present your case,” the judge said to Brutus’ attorney. They were using a videoconferencing application because of the COVID-19 stay-at-home orders.

“Brutus has studied toward a college degree in prison. He has repeatedly been attacked by other inmates and he has already served six years of his sentence. Brutus has agreed to wear an ankle monitor and meet regularly with his parole officer. He wants to finish his degree, contribute to society and see his daughter. It’s her 18th birthday tomorrow,” his attorney said.

“Has he paid his fines to the court and is his account current or in arrears?” the judge asked.

“Brutus has paid all of his court fees and fines and his account is in good standing your honor,” Brutus’ attorney said.

“Will Brutus agree to 300 hours of community service?” the judge asked.

“Yes your honor. That will be no problem,” Brutus’ attorney said.

“I can’t believe you’re considering this your honor. Brutus brutally murdered an innocent ice cream truck driver in front of a dozen witnesses and it was premeditated,” Sayles said.

“I am familiar with the case Mr. Sayles. Do you have any other reasons why he should not be offered parole at this time?” the judge asked.

“I don’t know. Common sense!?” Sayles said.

“Ok. I have made my decision then. I hereby grant parole to Mr. Brutus, but he will need to serve 300 community service hours and meet weekly with his parole officer. An ankle monitor will not be necessary,” the judge said.

“Thank you your honor. I will tell him. Could he be released immediately, so he could see his daughter for her birthday?” Brutus’ attorney asked.

“Yes. I will grant expedited leave on that basis. He shall be released within 24 hours. Are you getting this down?” the judge asked. A court clerk and a sheriff were videoconferencing as well and they affirmatively replied in unison.

The next day Brutus was released from prison. The police drove him to his friend’s house, gave him information about his parole officer, scheduled their first meeting and left.

Brutus immediately left town and was never seen from again. He didn’t even have a daughter and the judge was not actually a judge. In fact, the judge that ordered his release was a friend of his that he met in prison and a great actor. The real judge was tied up and nobody realized it until Brutus was long gone.

“Please shut the door,” the president said as his aide was leaving. She gently closed the door and the president picked up the phone and pushed a button.

“Hey boss. How are you doing?” the vice president asked.

“Hey Joe. I’m good. It looks like everything is set. Thanks for all you’ve done,” the president said.

“You bet! I had the time of my life and I was happy to serve the country with you. I can’t wait to see what happens after she wins,” the vice president said.

“Me too. It should be epic. I think Trump will go to prison for a long time,” the president said.

“Well, yeah. I’d think so. The fake websites, Facebook ads and email hacking should seal the deal. The new AG will see to it I’m sure,” the vice president said.

“I agree. It should be a no-brainer,” the president said.

“Did anything come up in the wire tapping?” the vice president asked.

“No. Just some talk about porn stars and hamburgers,” the president said and they laughed.

“Well, it’s time for my nap big guy. Is there anything else?”

“No. That’s it. Sleep well my friend. Bye now,” the president said and hung up.

"Mr. President, the inspector general is in his office," the president's aide said.

"Thank you," the president replied. He had a car waiting for him that drove him down to the Justice Department. It was only a few blocks away.

People were inside the building talking with masks on, but the president did not wear a mask. When they saw the president they became nervous.

"Where is the IG's office?" the president asked anybody that was listening and they pointed him in the right direction. He followed their directions and without knocking he opened the door and entered the room. A nicely dressed man was inside the office holding a broom and looking at his cell phone.

"Listen. I've gotten some bad reports about you. Very bad reports," the president said.

"I'm sorry sir. I have been working as hard as I can," the man said and began furiously sweeping every square inch of the office.

"Stop. Stop. I wish I didn't have to do this. You seem like a nice guy," the president said.

"I'll worker harder. I was just thinking about something when you came in. Today is my wife's birthday, so I dressed up for her," the man said.

"Well, you look great, but that's not the issue. The decision has already been made. You're fired. Pack your bags and hit the road," the president said and left.

After the president left the man started crying. A few minutes later the inspector general walked into the office.

"What's wrong Marty? Are you ok? The place looks great," the IG said.

"The president just fired me. I don't even know what I did," the man said.

"Can we take out the target?"

"No. You need to be patient. We might need you soon, but not yet."

"We've been ready for three years. How much longer do we have to wait?"

"Listen. You're called a sleeper cell for a reason. We need you to be patient. The situation couldn't be much worse. Chaos, destruction, disease and death are exactly what we want to see whether he lives or dies."

"All I know is we've been here for a long time and I was trained to take out a target not watch Comedy Central all day."

"You are being paid very well for your time. You shouldn't complain."

"Can we go to any of the protests? They're everywhere and they're growing."

"No. Just stay put. That would be too risky assuming you want to return home alive."

"Ok, but I can't wait here forever."

"Destroy your phone now. We'll be in touch."

They hung up and the mercenary destroyed his burner phone, threw it in the trash can and turned on the TV.

As he kneeled on a suspect's back a police officer took his pulse while his body was motionless on the asphalt next to their patrol car. It was only his third shift, but he knew what he was doing. A senior officer continued to press his knee into the suspect's neck as another officer kneeled on his legs.

"Stay back!" another officer told the crowd as he stood a few feet from the body.

"He said he couldn't breathe!" one bystander yelled.

"Don't do drugs guys," the officer replied.

A young girl recorded the situation with her cell phone camera. She was afraid and could hardly believe that officers kneeled on the man's body and neck until he couldn't breathe.

An ambulance eventually arrived and they put the suspect on a stretcher and secured him in the ambulance. The senior officer approached the girl that was recording with her cell phone camera.

"I'll need that for evidence," he said. She stopped recording and looked defeated.

"But it's mine," she said.

"We'll give it back to you. Just call the precinct, but we need it to document everything," the officer said. She reluctantly gave it to him.

A few days later she got her cell phone back, but the video that she recorded was deleted. The cause of death was reported as a drug overdose.

"Just tell them the family wants privacy right now. I can't take this anymore," Anthony Fauci's daughter said and handed the phone to her mom.

"Natural causes. Just write natural causes," Fauci's wife said.

"Well, that's not really a cause of death," the journalist said.

"What are you trying to say? He's not dead!?" Fauci's wife indignantly exclaimed and started sobbing again.

"I'm very sorry for your loss Mrs. Fauci. I just need to write an accurate report," the journalist said.

"An accurate report!? When has that ever stopped you?" Fauci's wife asked.

"You tell him mom. I'm sick of those people!" Fauci's daughter said.

"I just mean we can't write natural causes as a cause of death because that's not on his death certificate," the journalist said.

"How do you know what's on his death certificate?" Fauci's wife asked.

"I don't. I just mean they can't write that at the hospital. That's not an actual cause of death," the journalist said.

"Really? Well, that's news to me. I have something you can print, but I'll have to fax it to you. It's my middle finger!" Fauci's wife said.

"Tell him I'll him fax my big white ass!" Fauci's daughter said. They were not pleased with all the questions because they were still mourning.

"I understand you're going through a lot. I just need his cause of death. If it's COVID-19 people would really like to know," the journalist said.

"Well, don't die wondering. He was 79 years old. You write natural causes when people die in their 50s and 60s, so live with it," Fauci's wife said and hung up the phone.

“Hey big guy. What can I do ya for?” the gangly 6’ 8” Texan asked.

“Did we fill the venue yet?”

“Yes we did. We had over 19,000 ticket requests yesterday,” the Texan said and did finger guns.

“19,000 or 1 million!?”

“1 million? Where did you get that number? The venue only has 19,199 seats,” the Texan explained.

“Doesn’t 1 million sound better though?” The Texan laughed and noticed the man in his office wearing a suit and tie with slicked-back hair wasn’t joking.

“Yeah I guess. What are you trying to say?” the Texan asked.

“I’m saying you should inflate the numbers because 1 million sounds awesome!”

“How about 200,000? I think that’s more believable,” the Texan said.

“How about a million!”

“You realize your dad didn’t even get a million votes in the entire state of Oklahoma. Right?” the Texan said.

“I don’t care.”

“He didn’t even get 950,000 votes. How about we compromise and go with 300,000,” the Texan said.

“Tweet out 200,000, then 300,000, then 800,000, then 1 million! They’ll never know you’re lying!”

“Does your dad know about this?” the Texan asked.

“He doesn’t care. He’ll be stoked!” he said and started chanting MAGA and pumping his fist.

“Ok, ok. I’ll do it, but I’m gonna wait a little while in between tweets, so it doesn’t look fishy,” the Texan said.

“I knew you’d do it! You’re the best. See ya later bro!”

“That’s a great idea and we’ll get so much free advertising! We’ll ride the wave,” one NASCAR employee said.

“I’m sure I’ll get away with it too. I won’t even show it to him and I’ll dispose of it, so they won’t dust it for prints,” another NASCAR employee said.

“When are you gonna do it?”

“I’ll do it on Sunday before the race, so we will get all sorts of publicity.”

“They’ll probably get the FBI down here with the cavalry.”

“Probably, but I’ll send a text before the race, so everybody can rally around Bubba. It will be a viral moment.”

“Good idea. I bet we’ll get all kinds of new sponsors, fans and viewers. We’ll ride the wave baby!”

“Do you think there will be any copycats?”

“Probably. There are lots of angry people that want to fly their battle flag, but now they can’t.”

“Well, anything to increase revenue and stay afloat!”

“I totally agree. Good luck! Just don’t get caught or it’ll backfire and might be known as the white Jussie Smollett.”

“Who’s that?”

“How old is your son?” Dmitry asked.

“He is 31,” Boris said.

“Does he like Afghanistan?” Dmitry asked.

“It’s his home,” Boris replied.

“Do you keep in touch with his mother?” Dmitry asked and they laughed.

“I don’t think they’ll put him and his squadron on the payroll. The federation doesn’t have the money and the president might question it,” Dmitry said.

“How about we offer them a bounty on American troops and we can kill two birds with one stone,” Boris said.

“A bounty? So your son and his squadron will be paid or each American soldier they kill? I like it,” Dmitry said.

“Yes. That way we can support him and his soldiers and help them push the Americans out of Afghanistan,” Boris said.

“For all I know I have some children in his squadron too,” Dmitry said and they laughed.

“I will suggest it at the academy and see what they say. I think they will look positively on the suggestion,” Dmitry said and they shook hands.

“How’s the academy?” Boris asked.

“It’s the same. Still too much vodka,” Dmitry said and they laughed and parted ways.

Boris Romov and Dmitry Yazof parted ways and Dmitry was right. They military leaders liked the idea and they started paying bounties to the Taliban for killing American soldiers in Afghanistan. Many of them had some Russian blood, so it was a little like paying their own soldiers.

“I need you to hack Ghislaine Maxwell’s Dropbox account and upload a few files,” billionaire Rush Betterman said.

“I can do that,” ex-convict Jimmy Sassoon replied.

“I’ll pay you $50,000 as soon as you do it,” Rush said and handed him a flash drive.

“This drive has the files. Upload them to her account and hack the date to say they’ve been there for years,” Rush said.

“Consider it done,” Jimmy replied and took the flash drive from Rush.

“You will be doing almost everybody a great service,” Rush said.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what are in the files?” Jimmy asked.

“Porn. They’re porn videos of famous people having sex with children,” Rush said.

“Anyone I might recognize?” Jimmy asked.

“Yes. There are many people you’ll recognize,” Rush said.

“Can I see one?” Kai asked.

“They’ve been deployed in the Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean, but I don’t have any live prototypes on hand,” Iliza said.

“How do they know who to attack?” Kai asked.

“They use GPS and an onboard computer in conjunction with body recognition software to identify the targets,” Iliza said.

“How much do you charge to take out a target?” Kai asked.

“It’s $100,000 per person,” Iliza said.

“How long does it take?” Kai asked.

“It depends. We don’t make any guarantees, but we get a lot of business in the summer,” Iliza said.

“How does it work?” Kai asked.

“I scan a target’s body into the computer and upload it to the bionic sharks and they look for them underwater. If they enter the water they get attacked,” Iliza said.

“I bet they don’t have any clue it’s a bionic shark too,” Kai said.

“No clue at all. The sharks look the same and the targets are panicked and can’t tell the difference if they survive,” Iliza said.

“I have a target for you,” Kai said.

“Do you have a picture?” Iliza asked.

“Yes,” Kai said and handed Iliza a picture of a short man with dark hair. She looked at it closely.

“Consider it done,” Iliza said.

In late July six months later, the target was attacked in Virginia Beach and he died from his injuries. Nobody suspected it was a bionic shark though.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the president’s wife asked.

“Do what?” the president asked.

“Fight the results of the election. They’re saying you lost,” she said.

“I think they’re still counting. There might have been voter fraud too,” the president said.

“They have added up enough votes to know you can’t win,” she said.

“Maybe there was a miscount or foul play,” the president said.

“You don’t want to be president like this. Do you? They’re not going to think you are legitimate,” she said.

“I disagree. Millions of Americans want me to be president again,” he said.

“Remember life before? We took quiet walks on the beach and your good name wasn’t being slandered in the news every day,” she said.

“What do you mean?” the president asked.

“You don’t deserve all the negative press. It’s just political, but they’re not going to stop until you’re gone,” she said.

“What will we do?” the president asked.

“Whatever you want and we’ll have protection everywhere we go. I think civilian life will be even better,” she said.

“I guess there are a lot of perks and upsides to leaving Washington. I can golf and catch up on Guy Fieri’s shows,” the president said.

“Exactly,” she said and they agreed, so the next day the president conceded the election to his opponent and they planned their civilian life.

“Can we meet on Jordan’s birthday, so I can give you something for her?” the hacker typed. It was almost her 18th birthday, so the hacker spoofed his dad’s email account.

Within an hour the hacker’s ex-wife said ok, so the hacker sent her another email to set up the time and location and she agreed to that as well. She was a gold-digger and she accepted expensive gifts from his dad in the past, so she was game and he knew that she would be.

The hacker sent grandpa an email and spoofed his ex-wife’s email account. He said Jordan wanted to see him on her birthday, so he agreed to meet them at the same time and location.

The hacker paid a hitman on the dark web to drive by and shoot them dead when they met and he did. They had stolen from him and ruined his life, so he felt justified and he got away with it.

The hacker received his inheritance and his ex-wife was gone. He also finally had unimpeded access to his 18 year old daughter. It was like a dream come true.

“Are you really gonna wear it!?” Billy Bob asked.

“Yeah! I have to. Everybody that went to Jimmy’s party on Saturday has to wear their gag gift on Monday. Those are the rules,” Elisha said.

“Wanna get some lunch?” Billy Bob asked.

“I can’t. I have to meet my dealer for some e,” Elisha said.

“Ecstasy?” Billy Bob asked.

“Yeah. I’m picking up a dozen pills,” Elisha said.

“Ok. I’ll talk to you later,” Billy Bob said and they hung up the phone.

Elisha drove to a strip mall to meet his drug dealer Rodney. Rodney was a chemist and made MDMA for lots of people including Elisha. He was standing outside his car when Elisha arrived.

“How are you doing?” Rodney asked.

“Good. How are you?” Elisha asked.

Suddenly, Rodney saw the Make America Great Again hat that Elisha was wearing and he was at a loss for words. He didn’t know that Elisha was a Trump supporter. However, Trump’s words and policies had negatively affected him and his family.

Rodney sold the 12 pills to Elisha like they agreed. However, the next time they met Rodney sold Elisha pills that were laced with rat poison and he died.

“Stop,” Breck said and put his face in his hands. The angry voices were getting to him again.

“Why didn’t you bury me somewhere nice?” she asked.

“I said stop,” he said in anguish.

“I never wanted to be cremated. Remember? I wanted people to come and visit my grave,” she said.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“And what happened to her will?” the ghost of his dead mother-in-law asked with a Southern accent.

“What?” he defiantly replied.

“Her will. You know. She wanted to give some of her money and possessions to friends and family and you kept it,” she said.

“It’s mine. I paid for it,” he said.

“You’re gonna pay for it,” she said.

These sorts of arguments occurred over and over until it drove Breck nuts. One day when he was driving his car and arguing with the angry voices he got into an accident and died.

“We’re in the final phase of clinical trials, so it shouldn’t be too much longer,” David said. His company was working on a COVID-19 vaccine.

“That’s great. I want you guys to get the contract. Can you make millions of them real fast?” the president’s son asked.

“Of course. Don’t worry and the final phase should be done by the end of the year,” David said.

“That’s a long time to wait. How long will it take to mass produce the vaccine?” he asked.

“A few months. I think you should expect it by the summer,” David said.

“That’s way too long. Let’s forge the phase three trials, so we can move on it now,” he said.

“Forge as in falsify? I don’t think I can do that,” David said.

“Why not? My father is in charge of the Justice Department, so you won’t get caught,” he said.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to forgo phase three trials and forge records saying we tested the vaccine on people with positive results?” David asked.

“Listen. Let me put you in touch with somebody that can guide you through the process. He has lots of experience with this sort of thing,” he said.

David agreed to the president’s son’s wishes and worked with his fixer. He made up records for the phase three trials and it looked like the vaccine was 88% effective.

David’s company received a lucrative contract from the federal government to mass produce the vaccine. However, it was actually only 42% effective and if the phase three trials would have been conducted it would not have been approved.

“Look at the wild elands run!” the pilot said. Five passengers in the helicopter looked out the windows in awe about 3,500 feet above the ground. Below the wind and noise of the helicopter the wild animals ran together.

“I gotta confess something,” Johnny the front seat passenger said.

“What’s that?” the pilot asked.

“I don’t really live in Kauai. I actually live in San Francisco. I just flew to Lihue yesterday,” Johnny sheepishly said into the helicopter’s headphone microphone.

Something about flying in the helicopter prompted his confession not that he was deathly afraid, but it inadvertently came out. The pilot laughed and shook his head without replying.

Johnny lied on the form because it asked if he had been quarantined due to COVID-19 for 14 days in town or not and whether or not he lived in Hawaii. If he would have been honest they would not have let him fly for two weeks.

Johnny did not show any symptoms of the 2019 Novel Coronavirus, but he had it anyway and he gave it to the pilot and he didn’t realize it either.

The next day the pilot visited the village on the other side of the island because he was invited to a function. Unfortunately, he accidentally infected nearly everybody and most of them died.

Since they had been living in seclusion in Niihau their immune system was unable to appropriately respond to COVID-19. They didn’t even have a hospital on the island. Some of them made it to a hospital in Kauai, but they all died there.

The three people that survived were unable to continue living in Niihau by themselves without the help and support of the others, so they moved to Kauai and the island became uninhabited. However, the wildlife and aquatic life thrived.

“I just have a question about the $250,000 bonus you requested,” the accountant said.

“Shoot,” the executive said.

“I don’t understand where it came from,” the accountant said.

“It’s interest,” the executive said.

“Interest from what?” the accountant asked.

“Interest from federal pandemic money,” the executive said.

While $827,625,000 sat in the bank in September it accrued $689,687.50 in interest. The executive decided to make it his yearly bonus, but he had to run it by accounting first.

“That money was for over 551,750 unemployed Hawaiian workers in August,” the accountant said sounding a little perturbed.

“That’s right. They received it and then the interest was left,” the executive said.

The executive delayed disbursement until October, so the money would collect interest for the bonus. However, over half a million people could have used it to pay bills and put food on the table before October.

The accountant reluctantly approved the bonus. She had no choice because per their rules it was in petty cash at the end of the year, so it could be used for bonuses.

“I’m not afraid of COVID. I’m not afraid,” a Hawaiian man in drag sang as he spun and danced down the hallway of the veteran’s nursing home. He had dementia among other issues.

Patients on his wing heard him singing and laughed. They weren’t sure what to make of COVID-19, but they didn’t believe everything that was in the news.

The management company posted a notice telling tenants to stay clean and social distance. However, there weren’t any ironclad rules and there wasn’t any enforcement, so they didn’t worry about it.

COVID-19 seemed more like a mainland problem than a local problem. However, they noticed the numbers going up a little in Oahu and wondered if it was coming to Hilo next.

Unfortunately, employees didn’t attempt to isolate themselves or take precautions to avoid spreading the disease. Consequently, they caught the 2019 Novel Coronavirus and spread it around the facility and dozens of people died.

“People can’t be scared outta their wits or they won’t vote for you,” the president’s adviser said.

“Really? I thought they would,” he said.

“No sir and right now they’re afraid. They think they’ll catch COVID from somebody that looks healthy,” the adviser said.

“Well, we need to change the messaging. I’ll tell them that healthy-looking people don’t need to be tested because they’re probably fine,” the president said.

“Fauci thinks otherwise, but I know how we can get around that,” the adviser said.

“We need to tell the CDC (Center for Disease Control) to change its guidance on asymptomatics, so people won’t panic. Here’s an idea. Fauci is having vocal cord surgery in a couple of days. Why don’t we approach the CDC about the changes after he goes under,” the adviser said and they laughed.

“That’s diabolical! I like it,” the president said.

After Dr. Fauci was under general anesthesia for vocal cord surgery, the Trump administration forced the CDC to change its guidance. However, it resulted in confusion, a lack of trust and the disease spread even further and many more people died.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone!” the presidential candidate’s youngest child tearfully exclaimed.

“Me too. At least he left a detailed will for us,” his oldest child said fighting back tears at the reading of the will.

After attending a Trump rally in Tulsa, Oklahoma, their father died from COVID-19. He caught it at the rally because people weren’t wearing face masks. It could have been considered a super-spreader event too.

“If doctors couldn’t save dad what hope do other people have?” his youngest child asked.

“I don’t know. I still think we should sue Trump for gross negligence or wrongful death or something,” his oldest child said through clenched teeth.

“Dad’s attorney said we don’t have a case because they made him sign a waiver before the rally,” his youngest child said and began crying again.

Due to the deadly virus the Trump administration made the rally’s attendees sign a waiver beforehand saying they might die from being at the rally and they couldn’t hold Trump’s team liable.

Herman Cain wasn’t the only person that caught the 2019 Novel Coronavirus at a Trump rally. However, he might have been the most well known person to die from it. His death was largely ignored by the Trump administration though because it would have been bad press and a deterrent to people that might attend a Trump rally.

“That means you might not eat a ham-berder, hamburger, you might not eat a hamburger for a while. More on that story later I’m sure,” Fox News’ TV host Peter Dung said.

“Did you hear that!?” the president asked his aide.

“What?” his aide replied.

“No more meat because of COVID!” the president wrongly characterized the teaser.

“Well, people in meat packing plants are getting sick. Most of them aren’t dying, but plants are still closing,” the aide said.

“What happens if we run out of meat?” the president asked.

“The packing plant owners want to keep their plants open, so they keep making money. However, they fear litigation if people catch COVID. Why don’t you order them to stay open?” the aide asked.

“Good idea! Meat is a matter of national security. We gotta have meat,” the president said.

“You can even invoke the Defense Production Act to make them stay open,” the aide said and that’s exactly what he did. However, it resulted in many more infections and COVID-19 deaths as the disease spread around the packing plants and through the local communities across America.

“Did he tell you why he catfished you?” Ms. Downer asked her 18 year old daughter Debbie. They were eating dinner after she met her father for the first time since the divorce about 10 years ago.

“Dad thought it’d be funny if I fell for it,” she said. As a joke her dad posed as an 18 year old boy and contacted her online and she thought he was her age when they met.

“Did you tell him it wasn’t very funny?” her mom asked and she shrugged. Debbie’s dad wouldn’t talk to her mom.

“So what did you talk about?” her mom asked.

“He asked how I was doing and stuff like that,” she replied.

“What has he been doing?” she asked although she already knew because she was watching his social media accounts like a hawk.

“Um. He’s just in Hawaii writing books,” she replied.

“Who’s he voting for?” Ms. Downer asked.

“He isn’t sure. He likes Biden more than Trump, but he won’t vote for them,” she replied.

“Did he tell you why he stopped believing in God?” Ms. Downer asked through folded arms.

“He still believes in God, but he doesn’t think Jesus is God anymore,” she replied and shrugged again.

“Did he happen to mention biting my back?” Ms. Downer asked referring to an argument over a decade ago.

“His father told him to,” she said and Ms. Downer’s mouth gaped wide open and she slowly walked out of the room.

Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious, cell phone ringtone filled the air.

“Where’s my phone?” Ms. Downer asked and found it after digging around her bag. Her aunt was calling because her dad was in the hospital with the 2019 Novel Coronavirus.

“Is he gonna be ok?” Debbie asked and Ms. Downer started sobbing and explained that he had some of the most serious symptoms of COVID-19 and might not live.

“What do you think is gonna happen brah?” Mike Key asked.

“They stopped my benefits and said they’re investigating,” Cheri Rah replied.

The state of Hawaii awarded them Pandemic Unemployment Assistance and they had received it for over a month.

“Did they see us on social media?” Key asked.

“I don’t know. Probably. I deactivated my Instagram and Facebook accounts,” Rah said.

“Should I deactivate mine? It has our 9th island pics!” Key nervously exclaimed. They gloated on Instagram about being paid while partying in the mainland.

The longtime friends were awarded PUA in Hawaii even though they only earned about $1,500 in 2019. As long as they visited the online panel weekly and ticked a few boxes they received $263 via EFT plus the federal government’s extra $600 and $300 plus-ups that lasted a while. They also needed to be available to work (e.g. in Hawaii), not working and not earning money to receive the benefits.

“It wouldn’t hurt or at least delete the pictures of us gambling and drinking in Vegas,” Rah replied.

“Good idea,” Key replied.

Since they used a VPN to access the government’s website, they didn’t think they would get caught if they filed their weekly claim in another state. However, it caused their accounts to be flagged and when the government investigated they found their social media pages and realized they committed fraud.

“I just got a message from them. They want me to upload pictures of my passport, birth certificate, social security card and me holding my passport,” Rah said.

“I’ll make sure I have those things handy in case they ask me for them,” Key said.

Later that day Key’s account was suspended too and both of them were under investigation for months. The government eventually fined them for the benefits they received in the 9th island. They also stopped their PUA benefits for good and charged them with a felony.

“I think you should do it and then you can write a book about it,” pastor Craig Lorry’s worship leader Bob Wickum said. He was the pastor of a Christian megachurch in California.

“Really? Don’t you think it’d be dishonest?” Lorry asked.

“You’ll help millions of people with Covid and lead them to Christ, so I say do it,” Wickum said.

Lorry was healthy, but he was thinking about telling his congregation that he caught the 2019 Novel Coronavirus. His church was so big that he knew it would make national news too.

Lorry intended on quarantining for two weeks and then writing a book about the experience. He figured he’d give Jesus Christ the credit and it would be a bestseller and he was right. Nobody even questioned his diagnosis even though he never actually received one. His wife even believed him.

“Do you think the Russians are going to try to hack Florida again?” the vice presidential candidate asked the presidential candidate.

“Between you and me they never hacked Florida,” he replied.

“What do you mean? ‘Rage’ said they installed malware and were going to change the vote count,” she said.

“Right. Let’s just say the C.I.A. wanted to make sure America got its first female president,” he said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“If Florida was the only thing standing in between Hillary and the presidency they were going to make sure she won,” he said.

“Wow, that would’ve been bad for Trump,” she said and they laughed.

“What did you write on the death certificate?” Ivan asked.

“Why?” Vlad asked.

“Because he died from COVID-19. Is that what you wrote?” Ivan asked.

Ivan and Vlad were doctors in a small town in Russia. Since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic they had been seeing a lot more patients.

“He had a bacterial infection,” Vlad replied.

“But it didn’t cause his death. It was treatable. He died from COVID-19 like the others,” Ivan said.

“Look. I’m doing the best I can. I was told to write a comorbidity if possible,” Vlad replied.

“But that’s inaccurate and if we do that we’ll have a misleadingly low number of COVID-19 deaths,” Ivan said.

“Again. I’m just following orders, so let’s not worry about it,” Vlad said and Ivan shook his head and walked away.

Reporting COVID-19 deaths in this way led to Russia’s extremely low morbidity rate especially in the beginning of the pandemic. It wasn’t until much later after virus testing became widespread and they were close to developing a viable vaccine that they started attributing most of the COVID-19 deaths to COVID-19 instead of a comorbidity.

“Jay, this is Mr. Soup. Please give me a call when you can. Thanks,” Mr. Soup said. Jay heard the message and called him because he lived across the street from his dad and he had not talked to him in many years.

“Hey, Mr. Soup. How’s it going?” Jay asked.

“Well, we’ve had better days Jay. I’m sorry, but I have some bad news. Your dad passed away and they found his body this morning. He passed away in his sleep and the gardener contacted the police because he knew something was wrong,” Mr. Soup said. Jay’s dad was elderly and suffering from cancer, so he wasn’t too surprised to get the call.

“Ok. Thanks for letting me know. Is there anything else that I need to know?” Jay asked.

“No. I think that’s it. Oh wait. Nancy just said something,” Mr. Soup said referring to his wife. He covered the phone’s receiver for a second and returned. “The executor of your dad’s will will be in touch with you soon. That’s it,” Mr. Soup said.

After Jay got off the phone with Mr. Soup, he called his best friend Redd.

“Hey Jay. What’s up?” Redd asked. They were childhood friends that kept in touch over the years. They could even be considered best friends.

“Nothing. Bad news man. My dad passed away,” Jay said.

“I’m really sorry to hear that. He’s in a better place now and you’ll see him one day. We both will. Are you ok?” Redd asked.

“It hasn’t really sunk in yet. I think I’m in shock. He called me last night too,” Jay said.

“He did!? What did he say?” Redd asked.

“He cried and apologized. He said he was sorry for scattering my mom’s ashes in Butte Hole, Iowa and admitted she wanted to be buried in a cemetery,” Jay said.

“Wow. That’s surprising. At least you got to talk to him one last time before he died,” Redd said.

“Yeah. I guess. He also said he didn’t care what happened to his body,” Jay said. Jay’s dad had gotten him and Redd to promise to scatter his ashes over Butte Hole, Iowa like they did with his mom’s ashes.

“Ok. We won’t have to scatter his ashes now,” Redd said.

“Hold on. I’m getting another call. I’ll call you back,” Jay said and hung up to get the other call.

“Is Jay there?” the male voice said.

“This is Jay,” Jay said.

“Hi Jay. I am Adam Bulloni and I am the executor of your father’s will. I am sorry about his passing,” Adam said.

“Thanks,” Jay said.

“Your father has left his estate to you contingent on scattering his ashes where his wife’s ashes are located,” Adam said. This was not too surprising. Jay made up the story about his dad calling him because he didn’t want to scatter his ashes. However, now he didn’t have a choice if he wanted his inheritance, so Jay and Redd scattered his ashes.

“My name’s Goose. I am houseless and I have Covid. We all do,” a disheveled man said to a camera and pointed to some others that were standing nearby.

“The media keeps saying that there are no active cases on the island though,” the interviewer said.

“Take a look at us. We’re sick and they aren’t saying anything about it,” the man said and started uncontrollably coughing.

One by one the interviewer talked to sick houseless men and women. They all said the same thing. They were sick and weren’t being treated or recognized.

“Have you went to the hospital?” the interviewer asked.

“I went to the hospital and they tested me and said I was negative, but that can’t be right. I feel terrible. We all do,” he said.

For a week the interviewer talked to houseless people that looked horrific because they were pretending to be ill. Their governor and mayor had recently agreed to let tourism resume because the pandemic had taken an economic toll and they wanted to deter tourists.

After putting lots of videos online it worked for a while. Buzz circulated about the suppression of COVID-19 cases on the island to avoid harming tourism. However, after the media started investigating they realized it was a hoax, but it was too late because it already deterred people. Due to the national exposure some Hollywood bigwigs saw the videos and gave the team that created them a contract to film a comedy show series and it was a big hit.

As he paddled on his surfboard he hoped everybody on his ship would be rescued. Unfortunately, it sunk because it sprung a leak.

Winds and currents pushed Eddie faster than he could paddle. Trade winds strongly blew from the northeast and would have pushed him to Molokai sooner if the boat didn’t sink halfway in between Molokai and Lanai.

When Eddie landed at the beach some locals met him. They were not used to seeing strangers, but they could tell that he was Hawaiian.

“Are you ok?” an elder asked. Eddie didn’t tell him who he was because he didn’t want anybody to know he was there. However, he took on a new identity and said his name was Kai.

Eddie changed his look with dye, piercings, dreadlocks and tattoos. Within a few weeks he was totally unrecognizable.

Eddie worked and earned money in Molokai. He met a nice woman and reared a family there and nobody even suspected that he was the legendary Eddie Aikau. He enjoyed his new life out of the limelight and never regretted the decision he made even though he knew he could never return to his old life.

“Are you sure?” Darwin asked.

“Positive. I heard it on Fox News. They said wealthy Democrats are eating babies! It must be true or they wouldn’t report it,” John said. John and Darwin were friends in Raleigh, North Carolina.

“That’s disgusting! They belong in jail!” Darwin exclaimed.

Meanwhile, in New York City......

“You can research the benefits, but you won’t find anything online. This is cutting edge,” Richard said.

“How will the capsules make me feel?” Paul asked.

“Do you know how you feel after eating chicken eggs? Imagine that feeling multiplied times 100,” Richard said.

“Wow, so I imagine it’s a complete protein and then some,” Paul said and Richard nodded.

“It’s a complete protein and a tonic. Some people call it the fountain of youth. Why do you think Republicans hate abortion so much!?” Richard said and Paul nodded.

They discussed the capsules for a few more minutes and then Paul bought a bottle of 40 for $400,000. He took them as directed and they made him feel 20 years younger. His skin looked youthful and he more easily gained muscles because of it. They also strengthened his immune system, so he never got sick when he took them.

“He talked about killing Jews all the time,” a friend of the shooter said on CNN. He was contacted after a mass murder at a Florida shopping mall.

“Did you see the shooter?” a reporter at the scene asked a bystander.

“Yeah. I saw him. He was laser focused and just stood there and fired shots. It was terrible,” the emotional witness said.

CNN displayed a mugshot and full body pic on the screen with the name Billy Dean under it. It was a white man in his 30s with a beard and a beer belly.

Dean was in police custody because a witness called the police and they quickly arrived and caught him. They didn’t kill him, but an officer injured him before they could arrest him.

“We have some breaking news. Mass murderer Billy Dean has been arrested and athorities have found death threats and anti-Semitic writings on his website,” CNN’s TV news host Jackson Staley said.

Snapshots of Dean’s writings flashed on the screen. They were long, rambling messages with poor penmanship about hating Jews and wanting to kill them.

Bobby Pitts turned off the TV. He had seen enough.

Pitts loaded his .357 handgun, drove to Paul Maynard’s house, shot him and killed him. He got away with it too because he never told anybody he was going to do it, there were no witnesses and he never talked about it. He hated Maynard though and he thought he deserved to die because of the horrible things that he had done to him and his family.

One day three longtime friends came up with a dastardly plan because business was so slow. They owned shops in three different cities that shared a border. Springfield, Rossville and Gin-Gurly were known as the Tri-City and that’s why they were eventually known as the Tri-City slashers.

“Are you gonna be able to pay rent this month?” Marty McFlurry asked. He owned Hell on Wheels in Springfield.

“It’ll be real close. If I make it, I won’t make it next month,” Liv Long said. She owned Gin-Gurly Cycle.

“Same here. I think I’ll make it this month, but I’ll be screwed next month,” Ron Black said. He owned Black Bikes in Rossville.

The COVID-19 pandemic caused the businesses a lot of financial harm because the way the government closed non-essential businesses. They also suffered after some businesses were allowed to reopen because most people still stayed home.

“Have you seen any good slasher movies lately?” Liv asked clearly not wanting to deal with the problem at hand.

“I have an idea. Let’s slash tires around the tri-city area, so people will come to us to buy tubes and tires!” Ron exclaimed.

“Are you kidding?” Marty asked.

“I’m serious. We can go late at night a few times and slash tires and I bet we’ll get a lot more business; repair business, all kinds of business,” Ron said.

“Oh I like this idea,” Liv sarcastically said.

“C’mon. I went along with your crazy ideas last time,” Ron said. He had bought into a pyramid scheme that cost him.

“It would’ve worked if we didn’t have to deal with Covid,” Liv said.

“Be that as it may let’s try it and see. It’ll be fun too. Maybe mix in a little mailbox baseball, egging and toilet papering, so nobody gets suspicious,” Ron said.

“Sounds good. Let’s put my ex-boyfriend on the list,” Liv said.

The three friends spent the next hour discussing their plan. They decided to buy the local department store’s tubes and tires, so people needed to come to them for them. They already had a corner on the market regarding bike repair.

Even though reporters began covering the incidents the Tri-City slashers got away with it because they stopped before they got caught. Marty, Liv and Ron noticed an increase in business and some of the bikes they repaired looked very familiar too.

“We won’t allow this to happen. That’s voter intimidation! It’s ANTIFA!” the president exclaimed and MSNBC cut to a video of a dozen masked men holding machine guns in front of a polling place.

“There’s no evidence that this armed militia is part of ANTIFA. In fact, they could be Trump supporters for all we know. Let’s toss it to Dick Loosey in Michigan with more,” MSNBC’s TV news host Will Smith said.

“Thanks Will. In addition to the armed men, there have been voting irregularities at this polling place and it could cause a recount. Meanwhile the president is saying people that would’ve voted for him were intimidated by ANTIFA. Whether or not this means he won’t accept the results of the election remains to be seen, but it does not sound promising,” Loosey said.

“Thanks Dick. We are still waiting for several states to finish reporting, so we still do not know who won. It is a tight race though. We’ll be right back,” Smith said and tossed it to a commercial.

“We have some breaking news for you right now. President Trump has issued an executive order. More on that brand new story is Jody McCallister. Jody?” Fox News’ TV host Duane Lukowski said.

“Thanks Duane. President Trump has just issued an executive order to give the ballots in Wormwood County to the Department of Justice. He has notified the governor and the mayor and the ballots are to be given to the United States Army immediately,” Jody said.

“What was the reason for the order?” Duane asked.

“There have been reports of cheating in this district, but they have not been substantiated yet. They include voting twice, voter intimidation and voting for dead, incarcerated or otherwise ineligible voters,” Jody said.

“Did the president say why he didn’t let the local and state government take care of it?” Duane asked.

“The Democratic Party governor wanted the federal government to stay out. As you may know the governor and the president have butted heads many times, but Wormwood County’s mayor is a Republican and firmly in Trump’s camp, so she was all for it,” Jody said.

“Thanks Jody. We look forward to hearing more about this developing story,” Duane said.

“I think we should just pay it,” Malvista CEO Simon McGillicuddy said.

“Are you sure? I could try some other things,” Barry Reynolds replied. He was the chief technical employee.

“Like what?” Simon asked. A hacker named “Johnnyman” hacked Malvista’s patient records database and he was holding it hostage for a ransom. In fact, he was using software called “Ransomware” to do it.

“I could try to hack his server and release the database on his end,” Barry said.

“How long would it take? Johnnyman said we have one hour to send the money or he’ll delete the database and our backups,” Simon said.

“Hours probably. Just get him to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” Barry said.

The hacker said he would not say anything about the transaction, but he refused to sign a non-disclosure agreement. However, Malvista sent them $50,000 anyway and since it was an electronic funds transfer via bitcoin they could not trace it or get it back. Malvista regained access to the patient records database though and they didn’t tell anybody about it except Val Jennings in the finance department.

“We’re still working on our facial recognition software. It’s getting better, but it’s not quite ready yet,” Morph Works CEO Edward McMillan said.

“If Joe wins he’ll make a mask mandate,” Democratic strategist Wally Wickham said.

“That’ll be perfect. We just don’t have enough raw data yet. Some people in some cities are wearing masks, but it’s not enough,” Ed said.

“I think you can count on Americans wearing masks in February,” Wally said.

“Good because if Trump gets reelected we’ll never finish the program,” Ed said and Wally knowingly nodded.

“May I speak to Mr. Daw?” John asked.

“This is Mr. Daw. How can I help you?” he replied.

“I am John Rawlings and I represent the monkeys that work for you,” John said.

“Excuse me?” Mr. Daw replied.

“The four hundred monkeys that you use to obtain coconuts have unionized and I am their leader,” John said.

“Unionized? The monkeys?” Mr. Daw replied in disbelief.

“That’s right and I’ve received a few complaints from the monkeys that they aren’t getting enough breaks or coconuts of their own,” John said.

“Breaks and their own coconuts? Ok,” Mr. Daw said.

“They also need to eat a balanced diet throughout the workday. Some of the monkeys are malnourished or dehydrated and they need more bananas and lots of water,” John said.

“No problem. Anything else? How about some cigars and prostitutes,” Mr. Daw sarcastically suggested.

“Listen Mr. Daw. You have some serious violations that are going to cost you lots of business if you don’t change them immediately,” John said.

“Alright, but what do I do if I catch ‘em monkeyin’ around!?” Mr. Daw asked and there was dead silence for 10 seconds.

“I gotta go. Give me a call if you have any questions,” John said.

“Where ya goin’? Off to represent a zebra!? I know an aardvark that needs representation if you’re taking new clients,” Mr. Daw said.

“Goodbye Mr. Daw,” John said and hung up.

Loud music blasted in the recording studio as the band recorded tracks for a brand new song.

“Pick up the phone!” a 24-year old runaway said as she snorted another line of cocaine.

“Can’t you get it? I’m trying to lay down a new track with Slash baby!” Axl Rose said.

“Ok,” she said and answered the phone. She listened for a minute without saying anything.

“Who is it?” Axl asked. She told him to hold on and she put her hand over the receiver.

“It’s some guy from the government. He wants to know if they can play Guns N Roses real loud to smoke President Trump out of the White House,” she said.

“Really? That’s what they did to Manuel Noriega in Panama! Absolutely! Tell ‘em,” Axl said and she told him that they could use Guns N Roses’ music again.

The senator closed the door and joined the Supreme Court justice inside his cold office.

“How are you feeling today?” the senator asked.

“I’m feeling well. Thank you. How about you?” the justice asked.

“I noticed the results of your last physical exam. Is everything ok?” the senator coyly asked.

“I think so. I have good mobility and slow cognitive decline,’ the justice replied.

“Really?” the senator asked.

“I don’t think I’m following you,” the justice replied.

“Look. While we have the White House we need to appoint a new justice that we can rely on for four or five decades,” the senator said. The president belonged to their political party.

“I don’t think I can do that,” the justice replied.

“We’re willing to give you a handsome severance package,” the senator said.

“I don’t think I need anything. Thank you,” the justice replied.

“Take a look at these,” the senator said and handed him two pictures.

“What are these?” the justice asked as he looked at them.

“If you retire now this house in the Poconos and this private jet are yours,” the senator said.

The justice was caught off guard, but he recognized an opportunity.

“I will accept your offer and retire, but I also want my head carved on Mount Rushmore,” the justice said.

“I don’t think we can do that,” the senator said.

“Ok then, I’ll accept your offer and retire for those things and 1,000 Apple stocks,” the justice said and the senator agreed. They shook hands and the deal was sealed. The justice retired and received the gifts and the senate replaced him with another justice in their political party that could serve the country for many decades.

“Man, we need more gas,” Johnny Rapeseed said. Their getaway car was nearly empty.

“Let’s gas up now cuz it’s gonna be on soon homie,” Jack E. Robinson said. They were preparing to loot a Foot Locker and a couple of department stores after the election.

“I’m gonna grab some new Jordans and whatever else I can carry,” Johnny said.

“Me too. Do you wanna rage no matter who wins!?” Jack asked.

“Of course. If Joe wins we’ll celebrate and if Trump wins we’ll do the same exact thing,” Johnny said and Jack agreed, so they performed an elaborate, unique handshake and waited.

“8-ball corner pocket!” the associate justice excitedly said and smashed the cue ball into the 8-ball which ricocheted off the wall and rolled across the green felt, billiards table.

“Good try. Now you know we still haven’t talked about taking the case,” another associate justice said carefully chalking his stick.

“I know. I know. Well, let’s talk about it,” he said and took a big swig of domestic beer from a can.

“If we take the case, we can disqualify the county’s questionable votes and it’ll change the total enough to change the state’s outcome,” he said and his co-worker held up a finger and took another swig of beer.

“That’s right and that’s one step closer to victory!” he said guzzling the beer and smashing the can under his foot while letting out a guttural moan-like wail.

“You make a good case, but I don’t know. Only if we knew what Justice Scalia would have done,” he said and no sooner did he say those words did Justice Scalia appear.

“Hello boys. I see you are taking this decision very seriously even before you have to,” Scalia said.

“Of course sir. It’s our job,” he said and the other associate justice nodded and wiped beer off his chin.

“Listen. Don’t bother. It’s a huge can of worms and it goes deeper than you’ll ever know,” Scalia said.

Before either of the associate justices could say anything they blinked and he was gone. They made sure that they weren’t hallucinating, then they vowed to avoid taking the case from the appellate court.

“How do they work?” McBride’s Electronics’ CEO Jack DeSoto asked.

“They have a tiny battery inside and they work like a cell phone. As people move around town they attempt to connect to cell towers thus giving away their locations when they connect to our server,” New Age Pens’ CEO Starfish Gizmo said.

“How long does the battery last?” Jack asked.

“Up to one year,” Starfish replied.

“What will we do with the data?” Jack asked.

“You can use it for marketing purposes or sell it,” Starfish said.

“How much for 100 tracking pens?” Jack asked.

“They’re $10 a pen and I’ll give you a 10% quantity discount, so the total will be $900,” Starfish said.

“Does that include the company’s logo and phone number?” Jack asked.

“Yes. The pens are white with black ink and blue letters and numbers just like the prototype I sent you,” Starfish said.

They shook on the deal and Jack bought 100 pens to track people that took a free pen from his business.

“Are you sure you wanna do it again?” Michelle asked while Barack gazed outside as if he saw something.

“Absolutely especially if it means denying Donald Trump a third term as president,” Barack said and put on his mom jeans one leg at a time.

They marveled at the way the two-term limit rule was changed under Trump’s administration with the help of Democrats across the country that wanted to see Barack Obama be president again.

“Which camera should I bring?” Bob Devine asked.

“Bring all of them. We gotta get going,” Ken Dollson replied.

Bob and Ken were headed to the Million MAGA March in Washington dressed as photojournalists.

“Let’s focus on faces for the facial recognition software,” Bob said.

“Ok. What if they’re wearing masks?” Ken asked and they laughed.

“Most of them won’t be wearing masks, but take pictures of everybody. We need to develop the facial recognition software, so we can identify everybody,” Bob said.

Bob and Ken worked for the Democratic Party. They were hired to take pictures of President Trump’s most ardent supporters at a post-election march, so they could identify them and deal with them later and by the end of the day they had thousands of pictures.

“How much wind is there?” Wayne Brady asked.

“Not too much,” Blake Winslet said as he piloted the robotic bug through the hallway.

“What kind of readings will get from his blood?” Wayne asked.

“The sample will help us build his overall health profile and give us a snapshot of his current health. I’ll measure his blood pressure and heart rate too,” Blake said.

Blake was flying a robotic bug that looked like a mosquito. It was equipped with high resolution cameras, so its operator could fly to its target. It also featured a needle and empty sac for the blood sample.

“There he is!” Wayne exclaimed pointing at a man on a screen.

“Here we go,” Blake said and landed the robotic bug on the back of the man’s neck. However, he immediately felt it and tried to swat it.

“Abort!” Wayne yelled and Blake barely flew out of the way.

After a few more attempts they were successful. Since the needle was coated with an anesthetic he didn’t feel it go in or out of his body. A few minutes later he noticed the mark it left and figured it was a mosquito bite.

As reporter Jane Wang Chung analyzed the coastline debris her cameraman was ready to roll.

“3-2-1,” the cameraman whispered and silently pointed to Wang Chung.

“I’m at a devastated scene at Kepukai Beach. Uprooted plants, bushes and trees are everywhere,” Wang Chung said and gestured as the cameraman slowly panned it.

“Hurricane Matilda made landfall at 5 a.m. and this is part of the aftermath that will need to be cleaned, repaired and restored,” Wang Chung said.

“Are there any vehicles or animals in the debris and how many fallen trees can you see?” TV news host Kurt Grohl asked. Wang Chung slowly looked around before replying.

“As a matter of fact, I only see stumps, branches and bark everywhere. The trees are gone,” Wang Chung said.

“I just got word, Wang Chung, tonight a special cleaning crew will come and begin hauling away the debris. Do you think the ocean carried away the trees?” Grohl asked.

“As I examine these stumps, I’m noticing that they show evidence of being cut. You’d expect them to be splintered and broken from the storm, but they aren’t. They’re smooth and flat like they were cut with a saw,” Wang Chung said and the cameraman zoomed in on each stump and she was right. The trees had been cut and removed, so Wang Chung notified the police and they opened an investigation.

“Please come in and have a seat. Bill-Dough said you have some questions,” Don McQueen said in his trademark inky black suit motioning toward a wooden chair in front of his desk.

“Thanks G. This shouldn’t take too long,” Gangsta Patches said. After slowly looking around the room he sat down and his bodyguard closed the door and stood by it.

“What should we discuss first?” Don asked.

“Spotify. I don’t understand how it goes down G,” Pat said.

“Ok. With Spotify you get paid every time somebody listens to your music,” Don said.

“Ok, ok. How will they hear about it though?” Pat asked.

“Is he ok?” Don asked pointing at the bodyguard. He was wearing dark sunglasses and bumped into a lamp.

“He’s with me. Yeah, he’s cool,” Pat said.

“Would you mind waiting outside sir?” Don politely asked the bodyguard and he obliged.

“Do I got on too much gold!?” Pat asked.

“Can you have on too much gold!?” the bodyguard yelled from the other side of the door and they laughed.

“Yo, I see some artists have millions and millions of plays. Will my music blow up like dat too homie!?” Pat asked.

“Yes; slowly, but surely. We have a professional system of Spotify bots that ensure your music is streamed 24/7,” Don said and Pat was pleased.

They continued talking about Spotify, a similar strategy on other platforms and other aspects of Pat’s contract for a few more minutes. The bots were undetected and they inflated Pat’s numbers which made him appear to be popular. They also padded his wallet until he was virtually a household name.

“This court will come to order. Honorable Judge G. Willicker presiding,” the courtroom bailiff said as the judge entered wearing a black robe and everyone stood and then sat.

“This is the case of Jared’s Trucks vs. Jason Thompson,” the court recorder said.

“Please present your case,” the judge said to the prosecuting attorney.

“Thank you your honor. My client’s truck was shot six times by the defendant,” the prosecutor said.

“I’m gonna kill you haole!” the truck driver said to the defendant pointing at him with a scowl on his face. The driver was fortunate that none of the bullets struck him.

“Order! Order in the court,” the judge said and banged his gavel.

After the prosecutor rested his case it was the defense attorney’s turn.

“It was self-defense your honor. These trucks emit an unsafe level of airborne pollution and my client had to breathe it daily at one bus stop alone over 180 times,” the defense attorney said.

“I’m gonna slit your neck and hang you haole,” the truck driver whispered, but everybody heard it.

“Bailiff remove Mr. Singalingdin. We will conclude proceedings without him present,” the judge said and they continued after the bailiff put handcuffs on him and walked him out.

“Can you prove damages?” the judge asked the defense attorney. Suddenly the courtroom doors burst open.

“You’re dead fool!” the truck driver screamed in handcuffs running toward the defendant. However, about halfway there he tripped and fell and the bailiff handcuffed him behind his back and took him to jail.

“Case dismissed with prejudice. I’m not into freak shows,” the judge said and banged his gavel.

“We gotta have it somewhere great. Ya know!?” Rudy Giuliani said. He wanted to have a press conference somewhere controversial, so he could try to sway the presidential election and let everyone know that the Trump administration was not accepting the apparent results.

“How about the Four Seasons in Philadelphia?” Ricky Germain asked.

“Yes! That’s perfect. It’s classy and across town the demon rats are cheating! This’ll be easy. Let’s do it,” Rudy said and Ricky obliged.

“I’ll have Maureen or Matt call them and reserve the space for us,” Ricky said and paged Matt. A few minutes later he came inside his office.

“Matt, please give the Four Seasons in Philadelphia a call and reserve a conference room or whatever they have. We need it on November 7 and tell them it’s for the Trump administration’s lawyers’ press conference,” Ricky said.

“Consider it done,” Matt said.

“Four Seasons . How can I help you?” Margaret Stein asked.

“Hello. I’m calling on behalf of the Trump administration and we’d like to book a room for a press conference,” Matt Walsh said.

“Which date would you like?” Margaret asked.

“We will need it on November 7,” Matt said.

“We don’t have any rooms available that day. I’m sorry,” Margaret replied.

“Are you certain?” Matt asked.

“Yes. The only thing we have is out front. You’re welcome to have it out front if you want,” Margaret said.

“How much will it cost out front?” Matt asked.

“Please hold,” Margaret said and asked her supervisor. Since it wasn’t anything special they didn’t charge them to have the press conference in the parking lot.

“Ok. We’ll be there. Is there anything else I should know?” Matt asked.

“Well, it’s not real big, so I don’t know how big your group is, but it can’t be too big,” Margaret said.

Matt thanked her and hung up, so he could continue planning the trip to the Four Seasons in Philadelphia for the press conference. Since they were flying into the airport, they needed a ride to the Four Seasons, so Matt called Klassy Cars.

“Can I get an airport pickup on November 7,” Matt asked.

“Sure. How many are in your party, what time should we be there and where will you be going?” Shirley Temple asked.

Matt explained the details of their party and trip and told Shirley they needed to go to the Four Seasons in Philadelphia. They opted for black Lincoln Towncars instead of limousines to save money.

“That’s no problem. Does anyone have special needs?” Shirley asked.

“No, but I will double-check and get back to you on that,” Matt said.

“Ok. So we have you booked for an airport pickup on November 7 and we will pick up your party and go to the Four Seasons in Philadelphia. Can I help you with anything else?” Shirley asked.

“No, that’s everything. Thank you,” Matt said and hung up.

“Ok dad. Sounds good. Thanks. I gotta go meet Kim,” Don, Jr. said and hung up the phone. He was on his way to meet his girlfriend at a local bar.

When he arrived at the upscale bar the valet parked his shiny new car and Don, Jr. saw Kim standing in front of the entrance. When she saw his eyes meet hers she smiled real big and gave him a huge hug.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Don, Jr. said.

“Only a few minutes. How’s your dad?” Kim asked.

“Good. I just talked to him and I have an idea. Let’s talk about it in the bar,” he said as they entered the vaulted lobby of the unusual place.

“Sure! Can’t wait!” she said as they walked inside the bar and approached the bartender.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

“I’ll have a vodka and tonic and she’ll have a cosmo,” Don, Jr. said and Kim smiled and nodded.

“Coming right up,” he said and began spinning another customer’s drink.

“Wanna hear my idea?” Don, Jr. asked.

“Of course! What is it? I thought for sure they’d sell Greenland,” Kim said.

“I’m gonna bet on my dad telling 20,000 lies!” Don, Jr. said.

“What? With who?” Kim asked.

“I talked to him and he does not care at all, so I think he’ll hit 20,000 this summer,” Don, Jr.said.

“Ok. Where are you placing the bet?” Kim asked.

“Vegas. My bookie said he wants 10 to 1 odds,” Don, Jr. said.

“Ok. What does that mean?” Kim asked.

“It means I’m going to bet $100 million and win $10 million,” Don, Jr. said.

“Oh my god! You’re gonna win $10 million!?” Kim exclaimed.

“Absolutely. It’ll be a drop in the bucket and I don’t even need to come up with the money,” Don, Jr. said.

“Really?” Kim asked.

“That’s right. My bookie gave me a $100 million line of credit because he knows me,” Don, Jr. said.

“He knows you? Do I know you?” Kim said and started caressing his chest.

“Hahaha. Yeah. You know me. After I win the money we’ll celebrate,” Don, Jr. said and Kim smiled and nodded.

On July 9, 2020 President Donald Trump told his 20,000th lie since taking office on January 20, 2016. Reportedly, Trump told over 15 lies per day on average which is about one lie per hour he was awake.

Don, Jr. won $10 million and spent most of it on cocaine and prostitutes. However, he kept his word to celebrate with Kim. He even gave her a pearl necklace.

“The results of your coronavirus test are in and they’re positive. Even if you don’t have symptoms you should self-quarantine for two weeks and notify everybody that you’ve been in contact with lately,” Dr. Bo Ratson said.

“Positive. Ok. I wonder where I got it,” Jenna Ellis said.

“Have you come into close contact with any sick people?” Dr. Ratson asked.

“Just Rudy, but not in his face too much. I’ve been wearing a mask everywhere I can,” Ellis said.

“Studies show you can catch the virus from flatulence. Did you smell his farts?” Dr. Ratson asked.

“Oh my god. Yes. They were awful. We all did. They smelled like cheese and sausage,” Ellis replied.

“I saw the press conference. If you want me to recommend an extra month of bed rest after your two-week self-quarantine let me know. That should get you through the inauguration. I’ll even put it in writing for you,” Dr. Ratson said.

“Thank you. Will I develop an immunity to it?” Ellis asked.

“To farts!? Ask if you’ll build up an immunity to farts,” Ellis’ 12-year old boy said because she was at home on the phone. She apologized and shushed him.

“Quiet down dude or they’re gonna test you for rona with a needle in your ass,” Ellis’ 15-year old boy said and she apologized and sent him to his room.

“Yes, you might. You might have an immunity to the coronavirus for a while because of your exposure to droplets in the cloud of Rudy’s viral flatulence. Maybe that’s the silver lining,” Dr. Ratson said and Ellis agreed.

“Come on in. This is the master bedroom!” James said.

“This is magnificent. Rugged and retro. Kinda old-fashioned. What’s that smell though?” Randall asked.

“My dad recently died,” James replied.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sorry for your loss, but his bedroom will be perfect for our gay porno!” Randall said and proceeded to produce a gay pornographic film in James’ dead father’s bed.

When he was a child, James’ dad told him that God would throw him in hell if he was gay because the Bible says God is against homosexuality, so he sent some free copies of the porno to his dad’s Southern Baptist Church. It was called, “With One Hand on the Plow”.

“We’ll get a notification and the airline will get a notification after they install the tracking app on their phone. If they test positive for the virus in the next two weeks everybody they have come into contact with will be notified,” the mayor said.

“Who should download the app?” the reporter asked.

“We recommend that at least locals, residents and visitors download the app because anyone could come into contact with a visitor to the island that has COVID-19 and it will contact you if you do, so you can get tested,” the mayor said.

“What if they don’t have a phone?” the reporter asked.

“We have been discussing other options such as an anklet or a microchip,” the mayor said.

“Are you serious?” the reporter asked.

“At least we don’t want visitors’ blood like Governor Cuomo does,” the mayor said.

As they had hoped the tracking application reduced the spread of the 2019 Novel Coronavirus. However, the government sold everybody’s location metadata to a firm that sold targeted advertisements from it. Also, a hacker stole the metadata from the government’s server and sold it to some thieves, drug dealers and bounty hunters.

“C’mon in man. Shut the door behind ya. Do it gently cuz mama’s watchin’ her shows. Can I get ya some iced tea? I make killer sweet iced tea man,” KC said in his sleeveless shirt and torn blue jeans. He looked like a long-haired hippie and he sounded like he was from the backwoods.

Only the entryway separated KC’s bedroom and the living room where his obese mother continually sat in a cluttered room full of VHS tapes and piles of TV Guides chain-smoking cigarettes and watching shows on a big, old TV.

“Ok,” Jayce said and politely nodded. It wasn’t his favorite drink, but his mom told him to graciously accept whatever was given to him, so he did.

“It’s sweet man like lemonade. You’ll like it. Trust me. I’ll be right back,” KC said and left gently closing the door behind him.

Jayce was 12 years old and lived in California, so this was his first time in his uncle’s bedroom. He looked at his electric guitar and wondered if KC was going to play it. Several minutes later he returned with two mugs of sweet iced tea on a tray.

“Here ya go man. Take a seat on my bed. I have something to tell ya,” KC said and Jayce sat on his bed while he pulled up a wooden chair.

“Thanks,” Jayce said and took a sip and nodded in approval. It was better than he thought it would be, but still not great. It tasted like watered-down lemonade to him.

“I have to tell you something and you can’t tell anybody what I tell you. Now I know you might not believe this, but I think you have an older sister,” KC said.

A glazed look fell on Jayce’s face and he titled his head as his mouth gaped open lost in thought. He managed to nod enough to let his uncle know he heard him.

“Before you were born your mom had a baby and gave her up for adoption. Now some people say I don’t think it’s true, but some people say she’s black,” KC said making a face which invoked the same response which was essentially a vacant look and a slight nod.

“Can you believe it? I told you you wouldn’t believe it. I think her name is Crystal, but I don’t know anything about her. You can’t ask your mom questions because she’ll know I told you and your dad won’t know anything so don’t say anything to him. Ok?” KC said and Jayce nodded.

“I’ll see if I can find her. She might not live too far from here. Maybe next time you visit we can say hello to her,” KC said knowing that she was born in New Jersey which was hundreds of miles away from them in North Carolina. However, he wanted to give Jayce some hope and it did.

KC started talking about music and Jayce quickly forgot what he said about his sister. Except for swearing him to secrecy one more time before Jayce left his room it was the last time he heard about his sister until his aunt on his dad’s side of the family said something similar 25 years later.

Before a custody hearing regarding his daughter Jojo, Jayce met his aunt. She was going to be a character witness for him in a Child Protective Services hearing, so they met at Jack N the Box near CPS’ office.

“Are you nervous?” she asked and smiled jamming a French fry in her mouth.

“A little. I just hope it goes well,” Jayce said. Jayce and his wife were seeking custody of their daughter because she was removed from their home which essentially ended their marriage. In the meantime Jayce’s parents had custodial care of her which was not optimal, so they were intent on racing through their steps to get her back.

“I gotta tell you something. Are you ready?” I’m pretty sure you have a sister,” she said and it suddenly jogged Jayce’s childhood memory when his uncle KC said the same thing.

“A sister?” Jayce said in disbelief.

“I think before you were born your mom had a daughter and gave her up for adoption,” she said.

“Do you know how old she is or when she was born?” Jayce asked. She didn’t say anything about her being black like his uncle KC did in North Carolina, but Jayce didn’t think to mention it.

“Maybe around 1967. I think she was born in New Jersey and that’s all I know. You can ask Soo, but she doesn’t know anything else either,” Jayce’s aunt said. Soo was his other aunt on his dad’s side.

“Thanks for letting me know. I’ll have time to think about it after this ordeal,” Jayce said and she understood that he was stressed and his focus was elsewhere.

“You’re welcome. I just want to let you know that I can’t testify against your dad. He scared us when we were little and I can’t do it. Soo probably can’t either. We’re just too afraid of him and what he might do to us,” Jayce’s aunt said and he understood.

After going through a grueling process that took over six months (not to mention a criminal pre-trial fight that took a year), CPS awarded Jayce 10% custody of his daughter. He thought it was very unfair and he recalled how his dad said he should never get involved with CPS if possible because they are sexist.

“The Law Office of Keith J. Stone. How can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Hello. Can I please speak to an attorney about a lawsuit?” Jayce asked.

“Yes. What is this about?” she asked.

“Wrongful death,” Jayce said and she put him on hold for a minute and transferred his call.

“How can I help you?” the attorney asked.

“I’d like to sue Grossmont Hospital because they botched my mom’s surgery and she died there,” Jayce said.

“What happened?” the attorney asked.

“Well, my mom had diverticulitis, so she needed surgery. They sewed on her colostomy bag upside down and it leaked. She caught a superbug or something in the hospital and needed a round of antibiotics and had to stay there an extra week. During surgery they cut her small intestine and didn’t realize it until they sewed her back up, then they gave her a drug it specifically said to avoid giving her in her file and then she died. The cause of death on the death certificate said sepsis, but that doesn’t tell the full story or what she went through,” Jayce said.

“Can you show damages?” the attorney asked.

“Yeah. She gave me about $40 a week because I live on the street,” Jayce said.

“Well, I would like to take the case, but I am familiar with Grossmont Hospital and before her surgery they made her sign something that protected them from litigation. I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do,” the attorney said.

“She was only 66 years old. If she lived to the average lifespan that would be 10 more years. Her mom lived into her 80s,” Jayce said.

“I understand, but again they will be protected from litigation because she signed on the dotted line,” the attorney said and Jayce grudgingly said ok and hung up the phone. Ultimately he just missed his mom and wished she didn't die especially not in that way.

“Yeah dude. I can afford it. It’s gonna be rad!” Gabe said.

“Awesome. Are you gonna take them to the same room!?” Mike said.

“I might, but I’ll take whatever they give me. Belinda is fugly, but I need to practice fuckin’ for Sheila on Saturday, so it’s a warm-up,” Gabe said.

“Good idea. Have fun,” Mike replied.

“If Belinda wants I might get the room for Thursday and Friday, so I can fuck her lots of times,” Gabe said.

“What if your dick gets raw!?” Mike said.

“I know! I gotta be real careful. Maybe I’ll fuck her less on Friday. I’ll be ready on Saturday no matter what!” Gabe said.

“Right on. Sheila is hot. Are you gonna use condoms?” Mike asked.

“Yeah. I don’t wanna risk it,” Gabe said.

“Cool. Buy a box or two Casanova. I gotta go play War. I’ll talk to you later,” Mike said and hung up.

“Are you kidding me?” Ralph defiantly said, but the look on the cold man’s face answered his question.

“It’s probably not that bad,” Johnny said.

“We’re American citizens! We’re U.S. diplomats! They can’t do this to us,” Ralph said.

“Yeah, I think they can and they said, ‘Up the butt is best’, so what can we do!?” Johnny said.

“I don’t care if they said, ‘Up the butt is best’ Johnny. I don’t want anything up my butt! Do you!?” Ralph asked.

They considered their options, but to avoid rocking the boat they complied with the Chinese government’s anal swab tests for COVID-19. Dozens of others were given anal swabs, but only 17 other diplomats admitted it. The Chinese government denied ever doing such a thing. However, some sore assholes felt differently.

Wanda looked in the mirror and liked her new hair dye. Black is how she felt.

Wanda got online and read a story that made her think. Not only did she want to fuck the author, but she wanted to fuck him real good, so she came up with a plan.

Wanda worked in the building where the author lived and she read his stories. She hadn’t had sex in a while, so she wanted to practice with somebody just like the story said.

After a day or two Wanda coerced a co-worker to sleep with her. She fucked him and worked out the kinks in her methods. He was unsuspecting and it was sloppy, but she blew his mind and learned from it.

A few days later Wanda knocked on the author’s door. She asked him to help her get a necklace off, but she was interested in more than that, so he invited her inside. One thing led to another and she rode him like a cowboy and used various other positions all night long.

The author enjoyed the rendezvous and never knew that she read his story.

“You like her don’t you!?” the jealous wife said in an accusatory tone.

“No. I don’t like her, but she’s pretty,” the husband said.

“You can say you like her. I don’t care,” she said.

“She’s real pretty, but that’s about it,” he said and shrugged.

“Uh huh. We need a divorce. You don’t know how to talk,” she said. In reality, their entire 10-year marriage was riddled with arguments and fights. Over that time they called the police on each other multiple times, slammed doors and yelled so much the neighbors called the police. Now she was just picking at him.

“Can you hand me a pot?” he asked. They were gardening together because they grew medical marijuana for a medical marijuana collective. It was one of the few things they did together.

“Don’t you think?” she asked. He looked at her to see how angry she was. Throwing the pot down she stormed out of the garage. Five minutes later she returned and screamed at him until he yelled back at her. They went back and forth about various issues for almost an hour, then he left to get some peace and quiet.

Meanwhile, the police ended their surveillance. They were sitting in an unmarked van in front of their house with high-tech listening and recording equipment.

“Did we get all that?” Officer Cruz asked.

“Yes we did. It sounded like a real bad one,” Officer Wallace said.

“It sounds like we’re gonna put them outta their misery,” Office Cruz said.

“You know what they say. If you wanna forget about your problem, get yourself another problem,” Office Wallace said and they agreed.

The next day they raided the marijuana grow with the DEA, Forestry Department and CWS which led to eviction, separation and divorce, so in a way they were right.

“Everyone you know is a liar,” he said in a hushed tone as he passed a soccer ball on the ground to his daughter behind the funhouse. She trapped it on the concrete and nodded. They were close and she knew he was telling her the truth.

“Can I have my electric guitar?” his daughter asked.

“Yeah. I’ll bring it with the amp, cable and strap next time,” he said referring to their supervised visits. He and his wife lost custody after a police raid and they separated and were independently following Child Welfare Services’ reunification steps. His daughter was living with his parents which was probably better than the alternative, but they were following CWS’ strict rules (e.g. listening to calls and interrupting, taking notes, preventing home visits, etc.). They were also against marijuana and saying this was a judgment from God.

“I wasn’t ‘t doing anything wrong. They were all legal patients. I’m 100% innocent no matter what,” the father said referring to the felony charges he was fighting in court. He was out of jail on bail and facing 3-5 years in prison for growing medical marijuana. Suddenly, he was interrupted by the social worker.

“Sir, please don’t discuss your case with your daughter,” the social worker said and they looked at each other and didn’t saying anything as they continued to pass the soccer ball back and forth. Eventually she returned to her seat and began writing something on a clipboard.

“When can we go outside?” she asked and his heart sank. He felt the same way and knew it would be a long time, but wanted to stay optimistic. At this point he still thought he was going to win in criminal court and countersue everybody in civil court, but “child court” was a different ballgame.

“As soon as this is over we’ll go have some fun. I promise. My attorney said they got your mom to testify against me in court though. She did everything I did because we did it together,” the dad said and she nodded because she was there as they worked from home, so he continued. “How do you like living at grandma and grandpa’s house?” Suddenly, he was interrupted again.

“Sir, can you please talk about other things. Would you like to color inside?” she asked and they obliged. They had one hour to spend with each other and it had to go according to CWS’ wishes or they would make future visits more difficult and harm his chances to get custody.

They came inside, sat down and drew some pictures with markers. They enjoyed each other’s company as usual and the time flew even though they had done much more exciting things together for many years. They talked, smiled, laughed and colored. Since the social worker was nearby they did not say anything that might get them in trouble.

When it was time to go they embraced and said I love you. Little did they know they would never spend another night together or be alone together until she was an adult. At the end of the process which his separated wife somehow finished first, the child court awarded him 10% custody and he left town after pleading to a lesser charge in criminal court. Her dad started living on the street and attending college full-time over 100 miles away.

“A big storm is brewing east-northeast of the islands. It will generate some powerful surf in the double-overhead range for east-facing beaches, so a high surf advisory has been issued,” meteorologist Hana Lei said.

“Hey bra! Wanna catch some waves!?” Sonny asked pointing at the TV.

“Yeah, but there’s nothing out there as usual,” Tom replied and shrugged. They lived by a man-made, rock jetty that almost always blocked the swell window.

“You won’t believe this, but I think I fixed our problem bra,” Sonny said in a hushed voice as if somebody might be listening.

“What?” Tom replied.

“I hired two ice breakers to fix the jetty!” Sonny said.

“Fix the jetty? Like how?” Tom asked.

“They’re gonna take it out bra. After dark they’re gonna take it out and we’ll surf big waves in the morning!” Sonny said.

“Where did you find them?” Tom asked.

“Russia. My friend knows somebody. It should be epic. I can’t wait,” Sonny said.

Like Sonny said the ice breakers knocked down the rock jetty overnight and when they woke up there was big surf.

“Got toilet paper?” Moana yelled from the doorstep of the house.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Thanks,” Manoa said from the wooden outhouse that he built. He was literally pooping into lava rocks. Their house was off the grid, so they didn’t have sewage service and it was nearly impossible to put a septic tank underground.

Meanwhile...

“Can’t you wait till we get home?” Tulsi asked.

“Why? It’s free water! I wanna drink and rinse off,” Billy said guzzling the well water with a cup that he brought from home.

“Ok. Towel off before you get in the truck,” Tulsi said as she put a cap on a 5-gallon jug that she filled.

“This tastes funny. I don’t feel good,” Billy said and Tulsi took the cup from his hand, smelled it and tasted it.

“Don’t drink it. It’s bad,” Tulsi said.

They dumped out the water that they had gotten from the well. Tulsi took Billy to the doctor and he was treated for an infection because the well water’s fecal count was off the chart. As the sea rose this happened more frequently until the groundwater became too polluted to drink.

Mr. Richardson figured the kid would’ve gotten the point when he was expelled from Liberty Baptist Theological Seminary (a place Richardson thought was too liberal) when his daughter was expelled from Bryan College, but he apparently didn’t have a lot of common sense or so he thought.

A few months ago Richardson heard a man that was courting his daughter was driving hundreds of miles to sleep with her in a hotel bed. His wife liked him a lot, but Richardson didn’t. He certainly didn’t want her having sex with him even though they were engaged. Richardson lived in Atlanta, Georgia and he was deeply religious to a fault. He was very emotionally abusive to his wife and daughter, but it was a family secret because they were afraid.

The couple was in love and slept together after visiting Israel and Greece on a multi-school, study tour. She lost her virginity before they had sex. but Richardson was just an ultra-conservative, religious nutcase. Nonetheless, since they were engaged they hoped that Richardson would understand, but he didn’t. In fact, he prayed against the “sinful” relationship in his men’s prayer meetings and gave his wife grief about it.

After Richardson called his daughter’s college friends and said she was going there they drove to the hotel in Dayton, Tennessee and tried to stop her. Their schools rarely learned about this kind of behavior between consenting, adult students, but it was grounds for dismissal because they were strict, conservative, Christian institutions. In fact, every student had to sign a behavior contract before they matriculated and there were many grounds for dismissal even though they would be ignored in public schools.

Richardson did not want to call Bryan College’s dean because he didn’t want to get his daughter expelled. However, her friends gossiped, so the dean heard the rumor, investigated it and expelled her. Her dean also called her fiancé’s dean which sparked an investigation and his dismissal.

Now Richardson was aiming a gun at the 23-year old, native Californian seminarian (which still spells “yankee” in the South). He brought his daughter to get her clothes from her bedroom. She lived with him in Lynchburg, Virginia after taking a multi-state trip from Texas to Tennessee which included an engagement in South Carolina, but Richardson hated it because he was jealous of him, hated him and hated his post-teen daughter being gone.

“Go on now. Git. She don’t need ya no more. We’ll take good care of her,” Richardson said pointing a revolver at his daughter’s fiancé as he exited his car to meet him. Richardson was referring to the weekly money and jewelry he was giving her that he considered inappropriate wooing. He quickly raised his hands and hid behind a car tire and nervously waited. He figured the bullet would get stuck in the car or tire before hitting him, but he quietly listened for footsteps.

Mrs. Richardson could be seen through her bedroom window talking to her daughter in their red brick, country house. The three of them were close and talked and emailed all the time since they first met in the lobby of a Jerusalem hotel. In fact, he spent hours talking to her mom which was more than he talked to his own mom at the time. He also got along well with her mentally disabled sister that came on the study tour and lived at home and she loved him as well.

Richardson’s daughter’s fiancé could see them and she looked like she was crying and packing. After a few minutes she embraced her mom and ran out the door with a suitcase full of clothes and some of her favorite things. She didn’t have a lot, but she wanted it with her.

They got away that day, but after a few months their relationship fizzled, they broke off the engagement and she moved home instead of moving to California with him. Shortly afterwards Richardson died. Since he left his wife and daughter well before the average lifespan some people thought he was poisoned.

“Give him another shot!” Mark said holding a liquor bottle high.

“Is he awake? I think he passed out,” Jason said referring to Malik.

“Hello? Hello? Who’s this?” Dave said to someone that he crank called on the telephone.

“Hang up, so we can play rich man-poor man,” Mark said which was a card game that they played while drinking beer and vodka.

“Hang on. One more call,” Dave said slurring his words.

“Ok, but let me dial,” Mark said and Dave handed him the phone because it was his house. They were in high school, so Mark’s parents let them do whatever they wanted to do in the garage which they turned into a living space. Mark punched seven numbers into the phone at random.

“Hello?” after one ring a young female answered.

“My friend wants to talk to you,” Mark said and handed the phone to Dave.

“What are you doing?” Dave asked the girl he didn’t know.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“I’m D-Dante. Who’s this?” Dave asked.

“Dante? I don’’t know any Dantes,” she said.

“That’s ok. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s talk,” Dave said slurring his words again.

“Ok. About what?” she said. Theresa was a 15-year-old girl that lived in the countryside in East San Diego county with her parents and they didn’t care what she did. Since the boys were 16-years-old, they were interested in her.

The guys spent the next hour talking to Theresa while passing the phone around, drinking, yelling, swearing and listening to parts of Depeche Mode’s Violator and Guns N Roses’ Appetite For Destruction albums. They did everything you would imagine drunk 16-year-old boys doing.

“Where do you live?” Jason asked.

“Alpine,” she said which was about 30-45 minutes away from their Del Cerro pad.

“We’re gonna come and see you. Can we come right now?” Jason asked. It was very late, but Theresa was game.

“Ok,” she said and gave them directions.

“Get her number,” Dave said.

“What’s your phone number?” Jason asked.

“You guys dialed it. You don’t know!?” she playfully asked and then told them her number.

“Wait. I have a pen, but nothing to write on. What should I write on?” Dave asked.

“I got it. Tell me the number and I’ll write it on Malik’s butt with a marker,” Mark said and they laughed. Theresa told her number to Dave, then Dave told Mark and he wrote it on Malik’s butt. It was barely visible because he used a black marker.

About 45 minutes later the drunk boys arrived on a dark, dirt road under a starry sky and Theresa was waiting and sitting on a rock outside her house. Jason hopped out, sweet-talked her and they shared a very long, messy kiss. Dave urinated outside, nervously waved and got back inside because he was shy and it was cold.

Jason was buzzed, so they made funny small talk in between make-out sessions. They had good chemistry, but Mark wanted to leave even though their body heat would be hard to separate.

“C’mon. We should get going,” Mark said because he drove, it was very late and he didn’t want to worry his parents.

“Ok. One more minute,” Jason said essentially blowing him off.

Jason and Theresa shared another long, messy kiss, then they embraced and parted ways. Jason called her the next day and they started dating. Before too long he was making love to her under the stars while listening to an unfamiliar album; Queensryche’s Empire. She had a gorgeous friend that Jason set up with his friend Kasey and he was eternally grateful because she blew his mind.

“I don’t need my car anymore. Do you care if I give it to Jason? I’ll get a donation slip that says $5,000 and we can get a tax write-off,” Karen said to her uncle because he owned an auto shop near her house, he gave it to her and he worked on it all the time. Her ex-husband directed a religious non-profit organization that was permitted to accept tax-deductible donations.

“That’s fine, but tell him it needs some serious work and he shouldn’t drive it until a mechanic diagnoses it because it could stop any day. Be careful driving it. I’ll fix it up, so you can get there, but have somebody follow you just in case,” he said because it was 33 miles away.

“Ok. I will,” she said.

After Karen divorced her ex-husband moved to Long Beach, California and started sleeping on the street. He didn’t have a car because he sold his after he drove it across the country to see his grandma.

She drove from Pasadena, California with her friend, so she could drive them back. Karen never told him that it was undriveable though and it broke down while he was driving it, but he was able to avoid an accident because it was early in the morning and he was quick on his feet.

He was driving about 30 miles per hour down the road and the engine suddenly stopped, so he stuck it in neutral, waited for it to slow down, then jumped out and pushed it into a parking spot at a local grocery store. It was slightly downhill to the store, so after coasting a while he pushed it until he could coast all the way there, then hopped in. Fortunately, there were some empty spots facing the right direction even though he had to turn left and right to get into the lot. It was a slow roll, but he made it.

Without few options, her ex-husband got online with the store’s WiFi and sold the car to Carmax. It took an hour or two, but somebody eventually came to buy it. They appraised it there, but since it was not running, they only gave him $500. Even though his life was briefly in danger, it worked out well in the end because he was only a few blocks from school and a couple of miles from his storage unit, so it was a short bus ride and walk.

He didn’t give her a donation slip for $5,000 like she asked for, but he gave her one for what the Kelley Blue Book said and it was worth much less. Little did he know it would be the last car he drove because he increasingly preferred walking (or riding a bike) for exercise and the environment.

“C’mon,” Allie said and grabbed him by the hand. Scott hadn’t had sex in a while and his dick was as hard as a rock.

The rain was falling hard and fast. In fact, flash floods were happening around the island and a nearby river that was running to the sea was overflowing its banks.

“Ok,” he said trying to sound enthusiastic without ruining the moment. They walked down a concrete and dirt path to an old, rickety, wooden hut with holes in it that shook a little from time to time. There was a No Trespassing sign, but the door was ajar.

“Here. Put this blanket over the mattress and I’ll open the bottle of wine,” she said handing him a big, soft blanket. He spread it on the mattress while she uncorked a bottle of red wine.

Allie poured a couple of glasses of wine and they drank them and started making out. A few minutes later they took each other’s clothes off and had sex. Unfortunately, in the middle of the love-making the building collapsed, fell into the river, killed both of them and their bodies were never found.

“She’s named Shannon like your mom. What do you want me to do?” Charlie said and Jay just looked at him like please don’t ruin this for me.

“Do you think she’s cute?” Jay asked. They were 15-year-old boys at a huge resort pool in Maui on summer vacation hoping Jay’s parents weren’t watching them talk to a girl that just swam off.

“Yeah! She’s hot!” trying to sound enthusiastic because he was nervous. They had discussed this earlier because Jay was hoping to get his first kiss.

“I think so too,” Jay said while treading water. They had to doggy paddle or stand on their tippy toes or they would drown.

“There she is!” Charlie said in a hushed whisper pointing to a young, whimsical brunette in a one-piece bathing suit by herself. They watched her paddle to the cave and dive underwater.

“Alright. I’m goin’ in. Watch the door,” Jay said.

“Ok,” Charlie said and they excitedly paddled to the cave.

“Guard the door so we can be alone,” Jay whispered because little kids would occasionally swim into the cave and make lots of loud noises.

“Got it,” Charlie said and started looking for little swimmers that might be approaching. Since he was Asian he looked like he might work there because Hawaiians tend to be a mixture of Asian cultures.

Jay took a deep breath and dove underwater to swim to the cave. When he came up for air inside the semi-dark cave, he saw Shannon sitting on a rock. She looked beautiful like a pinup model on a photo shoot.

After engaging in some small talk and casually edging closer to her on the rock, she kissed him. It began dry and mechanical, but after a minute or two they started getting the hang of it. A few minutes later two little kids entered the cave with Charlie short behind them, so they stopped and eventually left.

Shannon was a tourist from San Francisco and since they were from San Diego, California, they kept in touch and she visited Jay. In fact, Jay invited her to a school dance and they rented a limo and rolled in style.

“Wanna go for a jog?” Mary Mags asked.

“Yeah. Let’s go,” Eddie Ikers replied. He went to his room, put on his running shoes and met her outside.

“Are you ready?” Mary asked smiling and gazing into his eyes.

“Oh yeah! Let’s do it,” Eddie said. They were friends and had a vigorous workout routine. They would tell (almost) everybody they were going on a 9-mile run, but they’d only jog a few blocks and have sex in the bushes, then they would return hot and sweaty looking like they went on a strenuous jog.

“Pull your shorts down,” Mary said fondling his covered penis and tilting her head to one side. He quickly obliged, but caught himself and took his time to come off cool. She rubbed like crazy, jerking and jerking, licking and rubbing, moaning, simultaneously fondling his balls and even showing him her boobs and finally he came all over the place and she erupted with joy.

Mary tried to avoid getting ejaculate on his shorts, socks and shoes. He moaned and yelled in pleasure and felt like taking a nap afterwards.

On the way back she asked him for some money and he gave it to her. She figured it was a good time because the orgasm was fresh in his mind and he was in a good mood.

"I don’t know why he did it. Your father’s deranged,” Mary Cashian said to her daughter.

“I know why he did it,” she said with tears running down her face.

“Why?” her mom asked, but she did not reply. She only held up a bloody sign that read, “You lied.”

14 years ago in a Pacific Beach apartment......

“Squeaky’s dead,” Mary said to her husband.

“Dead? How?” he asked in disbelief. She had just returned from another extended trip to her parents’ house. Her extended family lived with them and nearby them, so they tried to see everybody. It was a few hours away, so they stayed a night or two.

“I ran over her with the car,” she said in a cavalier way.

“Oh no. Where?” he asked with a horrified look on his face.

“Downstairs in the parking garage,” she replied and looked at her daughter. Their eyes met and she buried her head in her mom’ s chest.

“Is Jordan ok?” he asked.

“She’s real sad. She loved that dog so much, but she knows Squeaky is in a better place now,” she said holding Jordan close to conceal their lie.

“How did it happen?” he asked.

“We parked to hose off. I tied Squeaky up and forgot and accidentally backed up,” she said.

Her husband was stunned at what happened and the way she was talking and acting. This went on for a while and then they went downstairs and she showed him where it happened and explained it. She told Jordan to stay in the house because she knew he was no dummy and she didn’t want to implicate her any more than she had to.

They were lying, but they sold it well because they rehearsed. After he figured out they gave the dog to her aunt, he killed the dog and wrote the sign in blood. It turned out being with her family was not a better place after all.

The scene was surreal because dozens of dark-skinned cannibals were sitting with white, Christian missionaries. They outnumbered them, but the missionaries brought gifts, taught them skills and built structures with them, so the Sawi didn’t want to eat them yet.

Don Richardson didn’t mind being across the globe on a dangerous island. He felt God wanted the savages to repent from their sins and trust in Jesus Christ for forgiveness and salvation. He believed that they were going to Hell, so he prepared a gospel message for them.

Before Don could speak a missionary ran into the large, open, meeting room. Short of breath he tried to speak quietly.

“They sunk another boat!” Tom said.

“Ok. I am just about to share the good news, so lets address this later brother,” Don said.

“Fine,” Tom said and threw up his hands. The Sawi were known for their treachery. Sometimes they behaved very badly with no remorse. In fact, it was engrained in their culture.

“Today I have the greatest story to tell you. Listen very closely,” Don said and proceeded to tell them the gospel message.

Don mentioned Jesus being born of a virgin and they looked puzzled. He said Jesus lived a flawless life and they didn’t understand what that meant. However, when he got to Judas’ betrayal they reacted.

“For thirty pieces of silver Judas betrayed Jesus Christ,” Don said and there was a brief silence and then they erupted in celebration! They acted like their team had just won the Super Bowl!

One cannibal with bones around his neck smiled bigger than anybody had ever seen. He was missing a few teeth too. The medicine man was doing a jig, but he was pretty doped up. Musicians blew horns and cooks banged on pots. Mothers screamed in joy and kids yelled and danced because everybody was so excited. Babies cried and wailed due to the commotion.

Don’s heart sank with a horrified look on his face. He had shared the gospel with many people, but he had never gotten a response like this one. In fact, everybody else thought Judas was the villain not the hero.

While they jumped up and down like drunk hockey fans, Don slowly panned the room. The missionaries were getting anxious and a couple of them quickly left.

With a frog in his throat and not knowing what to say, he stood and raised his hands to try to quiet them down.

“Please. Shhh. There’s more to the story,” he said and continued with the gospel message. However, it was anticlimactic and most of them did not want to become a Christian.

TO BE CONTINUED

“He won’t see you,” Ahmed said.

“I think you’re wrong. You’ll see. Yella!” Khaled said. He was Ahmed’s big brother, so he felt compelled to let him tag along. They walked down an old, stone cobbleway under the afternoon sun.

“He does owe dad a favor,” Ahmed said second-guessing his assessment.

“Right and I know where Muhammad is and he has the king’s ear. I have a good feeling about this. Yella!” Khaled said again motioning to his brother to keep up.

After walking a couple of miles they arrived at an unassuming café. A man and woman were sipping coffee at a table outside, so the boys politely smiled and entered.

Inside the spacious café artwork across the vaulted ceiling complimented the smell of freshly brewed coffee. In a well-lit corner a man was sitting alone at a table reading a newspaper which was covering his face. Khaled nervously motioned to Ahmed and they approached him.

“We need your help. They need your help,” Khaled said and the newspaper slowly lowered until a grizzled man’s face appeared. He looked over the top of his reading glasses and calmly motioned for them to sit.

“How can I help you boys?” the man asked.

“You know the king. He needs to stop the violence and the bloodshed in Jerusalem now,” Khaled said.

“Yes, but who can put the brakes on a runaway train? Who can fix a loose cannon and remain unscathed?” the man asked pausing between questions and taking a sip of coffee afterwards.

“What’s your name?” Ahmed asked.

“He has to help! It’s his duty by law to do something! People are dying!” Khaled exclaimed as his eyes filled with tears.

“My name’s Salem. Why must the king help? You must be confused. Which law are you referencing?” Salem replied trying to treat them like adults even though they were kids.

“You know the council controls Haram esh-Sharif. Do you like it there now?” Khaled asked.

“Is it the way God intended?” Ahmed asked.

“What’s your name?” Salem asked Ahmed impressed by his youthful moxie.

“Ahmed,” he said.

“How do you think God would want it?” Salem asked them.

“He would want everybody to share it,” they replied in unison.

“Well, that’s a wonderful idea. How pray tell?” Salem asked.

“Get the ark from the church and bring it to Haram esh-Sharif and build a house for it,” Khaled said. Salem was taken aback at the suggestion.

“The ark? I am assuming you mean the Ark of the Covenant that held the 10 commandments Moses received from God on Mt. Sinai. I am afraid it has been lost for centuries,” Salem said.

“No. It’s in Ethiopia. The ark is in Axum,” Khaled said.

“Timkat. You gotta see Timkat,” Ahmed said. They spent the next 10 minutes explaining the Timkat festival and how the ark had been protected by guardians ever since it left Israel and how it was being stored in Ethiopia for safekeeping until the time was right.

“So let me get this straight. You think obtaining this ark will make things better? Why?” Salem asked.

“It’s revered by Islam, Judaism and Christianity. It’ll help us turn over a new leaf. Its new home can be an international, multi-religion site for everybody to peacefully visit and pray,” Khaled said.

“You realize the Israelis, you know, the Zionists want the place to themselves. Right? They do not want to share it with anybody,” Salem replied.

“I understand, but what do we have to lose? It’s already chaotic and on the brink of war! Please just propose the deal to PM Ali and he’ll do it. He has been expecting this day because he knows his country has been protecting the ark for the right time,” Khaled said.

They discussed it a little more and Salem agreed to place a few calls and see. However, the first step was to get the fighters to call a truce, so they could discuss the path to peace.

“Honey, I just got a call about the Wuhan Lab of Virology,” Bill said.

“Do you want potatoes?” Melinda asked.

“No. Did you hear me?” Bill asked.

“Yes. What did they say?” Melinda asked as she put the bowl of potatoes on the counter and took a seat at the table with Bill.

“Are you ready for this? They said SARS-CoV-2 is beginning to infect the public,” Bill said.

“Oh my God. Gain-of-function?” Melinda asked.

“That’s right and it means there will be winners and losers,” Bill said referring to companies that would go bankrupt, companies that would thrive and the suffering and deaths to be caused by the pandemic.

“Should we sell some stocks and make some investments now?” Melinda asked. They spent the rest of the night talking about their holdings and what they needed to do.

“The vaccine market will be amazing. Pfizer, Johnson & Johnson and others will make them as quickly as ethically possible,” Bill said.

“I bet and those will be great stocks too,” Melinda said.

It was weeks before the virus started making worldwide headlines on a daily basis, so they had plenty of time to get their finances in order. In fact, their planning led to making billions of dollars in 2020 and when they divorced in 2021 they split $100 billion.

“Hang Mike Pence! Hang Mike Pence!” some people in the large crowd chanted as it echoed down the hallway of the Capital building.

“Whose side are you on?” a protestor wearing a red MAGA hat asked pointing a weapon at police officer. He quickly raised his hands and replied.

“The United States of America,” Officer Dunn said. He saw rage in their eyes like he had never seen before. These people were claiming America for themselves and villainizing him among others.

“Good answer. He’s comin’ with us boys!” the protestor yelled grabbing Dunn by the shirt and pushing him down the hallway.

“Take that fancy uniform off!” the protestor demanded. Reluctantly, Dunn removed his police uniform with his name on it and some hooligans cheered.

“Let’s go!” the protestor said and they continued.

Hundreds of people yelled and broke things. Some protestors urinated on furniture and others took pictures of themselves making crude gestures.

“What do you want from me?” Dunn asked.

“Piss in that corner there!” the protestor said pointing at a corner of the room.

“No. I don’t gotta go,” Dunn said.

“I don’t care! You go stand over there in the corner until ya piss!” the protestor said.

As Dunn gingerly walked to the corner of the room that he had guarded many times before he figured he could urinate a little. After pissing in the corner the crowd erupted and he smiled. However, the armed protestor wasn’t done.

“Come on. We got lots to do and not much time,” the protestor dragging Dunn into the next room.

People were going apeshit. It was utter chaos inside the Capitol building like nobody had ever seen. After a few more commands from the armed protestor, Dunn didn’t need orders.

“Look at this!” he said as he overturned a desk and the crowd cheered. Suddenly, he was a hero never mind the fact he was being held at gunpoint.

“Yeehaw! That’s my meathead!” the protestor said and put his arm around Dunn’s shoulder while somebody took a picture.

After more rage and destruction the crowds eventually subsided. They left quickly and forgot Dunn and the other officers leaving them there.

An extensive investigation was launched into the events that happened on that day. They noticed the crimes that Dunn committed, but since he was held at gunpoint he was not held accountable. In fact, he received millions of dollars in damages due to PTSD and never worked a day again in his life.

“How much time do we have this time?” Jackoff Sasquatchian asked.

“Oh I don’t know. At least a half hour. Jordan’s spending time with Talar,” Sarine Gastrich said.

“Awesome. We can do it twice then!” Sasquatchian said.

“You come so fast we could do it three times!” Sarine said and they laughed.

“Ready!?” Sasquatchian excitedly asked.

“Take it off!” Sarine playfully demanded and pulled his shirt off and then his pants.

For the next 30 minutes Sarine sucked Sasquatchian’s dick, jerked him off and fucked him.

“That was awesome!” Sasquatchian said because he was spent.

“Glad you liked it. I better get going,” Sarine said.

“Wait. Do you need some money?” Sasquatchian asked.

“Ok,” Sarine said.

“How much do you need?” Sasquatchian asked.

Sarine listed some things she needed to buy for herself and her daughter. She was married to someone else and on trips to visit her family she had sex with Sasquatchian for money. However, what he didn’t know is that Sarine and her husband were actually raising his daughter.

“Here. Here’s $80 bucks. Don’t spend it all in one place,” Sasquatchian said and Sarine smiled, gave him a big hug and left.

“Jesus, your mom is here with your brothers,” John said.

“Stepbrothers,” Jesus reminded him.

“Right. Your mom is here with your stepbrothers. What should I tell her?” John asked.

Jesus ignored John and went back to what he was doing in silence. He was carving a piece of wood into a staff.

“Jesus?” John asked.

“What would you say to your mother if she wouldn’t tell you who your father was?” Jesus asked.

“I wouldn’t speak to her anymore,” John said.

“Remember how I quizzed the religious leaders on Passover and they kept lying?” Jesus asked referring to when he was 12 years old. He ran away from Joseph and his mother to stay in Jerusalem and get answers.

“Yes I remember Lord,” John replied.

“Well, she lies as much as they do,” Jesus replied.

“I see Lord,” John replied.

“You answered correctly. You are my family. Now so let it be,” Jesus said and Jesus’ followers told his mother that he said he was already with his family, so she left with his stepbrothers.

“Your father has rejected you once and for all rabbi,” a cloaked figure whispered to a half-naked man bleeding on a huge, wooden cross.

“Hrmm,” he moaned through pained breaths barely opening his eyes to see who was addressing him.

“Your father Joseph does not love you as much as you thought and nowhere near as much as you‘ve loved him,” the cloaked figure sarcastically said.

“No. Hgmm,” the dying man said in horror.

“Yes. Joseph bin Caiaphas washed his hands of you too,” the cloaked man whispered and walked away.

“My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me!?” the dying man yelled hoping that it would be heard in the temple. Many people didn’t understand what he meant because they thought he had no father, but some people knew exactly what he was saying because they knew who his biological father was all along.

(Coming Soon: The Blood, Part I)

“If he finds his sister she’ll screw up everything ya know,” the fool said to his wife.

“What? How will he do that?” she innocently replied.

“Well, he’s going there to talk to your mother. What do you think he’ll ask her?” he asked.

“I don’t know. He doesn’t even know he has a sister,” she confidently said. Her husband rolled his eyes because they dropped hints and Casey already told Jay he has a long-lost sister somewhere, but he wasn’t sure if he remembered because he was so young when he told him.

“Ok. What do you think he’s going there for then?” he asked.

“Because she’s sick. He wants to see her before she passes away. She’s his grandmother you know,” she replied.

“I know. I know, but what if he asks about her? What if she gives him money or hires him an attorney?” he asked. His poor son was in two legal battles and needed help to win his cases in juvenile court and criminal court.

This made his wife think because she had kept her daughter a secret for a long time. Not even her oldest child knew about Crystal even though they dropped hints his entire life. When she was 16 years old she reluctantly gave up Crystal for adoption and she regretted it.

“I guess. So what should we do?” she asked.

“Call your brother. He’ll go over there,” he said.

“Call my brother? Casey?” she asked making a face.

“Yeah. Give him a quick call and let him know Jay is on his way,” he said.

“He already knows Jay’s coming. He’s the one that told him my mom’s sick,” she replied.

“Right, but after he gets to her there’s no telling what she’ll tell him or give him ya know,” he said.

This made her think in silence for a minute.

“Ok. Give me the phone and I’ll call Casey,” she said.

“It’s still early over there,” he said handing her the telephone. She dialed her brother Casey’s number from memory and he answered after the first ring.

“Hey Casey, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Fine. How are you?” he asked a little surprised that she called.

“Pretty good. Is Jay still on his way to see mom?” she asked.

“I think so. I told him about ma bein’ in the rest home and I think he’s goin’ to see her,” Casey said with a thick, Southern accent.

“Ok, but what if he asks her for money or how to find his sister?” she asked worried that her daughter might enter into their lives and not care for her.

“I don’t know,” he said pondering something he hadn’t considered.

“Rex thinks you should go over there and make sure everything goes smoothly,” she said hoping that he could read between the lines.

“Well, I reckon I should head on over there then,” Casey said.

Casey drove to his mom’s convalescent home in Yadkinville, North Carolina, made small talk and lingered until Jay finally left. She didn’t give him anything and he made sure of it by quizzing and controlling his mother when Jay was in the bathroom. A few years later she took her daughter’s secret to the grave. A few years later her daughter died and took her secret to the grave as well.

“Are you sure she ain’t gonna find out playboy?” Lisa asked.

“Don’t worry. She’ll never know,” the playboy replied. He was hundreds of miles away from his betrothed and fulfilling one of his fantasies.

“Ok, but I’ll warn ya. You ain’t gonna forget me baby,” Lisa said and took off his shirt.

Lisa had fucked a couple of white guys, but she usually had sex with black guys. She had ebony skin which attracted the playboy because it was taboo in the mid-20th century.

Lisa went to town. She was lean and quick, so she made him come in a few minutes.

“Wow,” he said.

“I told you so. Wanna go again?” she asked and he nodded yes, so they waited a few minutes and did it again. This time he came in about 10 minutes.

“That was groovy,” he said and she smiled as sweat dripped down her face. She gave him a peck on the cheek and went to the bathroom.

Lisa and the playboy parted ways and he never saw her again. However, before his family moved from East St. Louis, Missouri to San Diego county he discovered that she was pregnant. He thought it could be his child, but he was never certain.

The playboy got married and missed Lisa. Sometimes he snuck out of the house and visited a local dive bar hoping a black prostitute that looked like her might rock his world again. His wife and her family weren’t very pleased though.

Days went by and he wondered if he had a child and what he or she looked like. He knew it was a girl because she had a sonogram and told him, but that’s all he knew. They never performed blood tests, so he didn’t know for certain whose child she carried.

To avoid the painful memory he accused his wife of having sex with a black person and getting pregnant. He was wrong, but she did cheat on him and have somebody else’s baby which seemed fitting in light of his infidelity and ironic in light of his accusations.

“Self-destruct did not engage. I repeat. Self-destruct did not engage,” the man behind the joystick said into his headphone microphone.

“Copy that. I got it,” another man behind a joystick somewhere else said into his headphone microphone.

“Try not to make a big mess,” the first man said and they chuckled because they knew it was impossible.

The second man moved his drone over the lump of metal and shot it with a laser until it caught on fire. As soon as it went up in flames he flew the drone back to its base. Unfortunately, the brush around it caught on fire and before too long a wildfire was spreading.

The men felt satisfied that they had accomplished their mission, but there was a pit in their stomach because they could almost smell the fire. They drank lots of alcohol to distract themselves from the pain.

Miles away Governor Newsom was holding a press conference.

“Listen folks. California has never seen a fire season like this one. Take every precaution you can. We are doing our best to protect you,” he said and continued to tell them some terrible stories about wildfires consuming millions of acres of land throughout the state.

“How did you like it?” the man with the woman’s name asked his wife.

“It was nice. I think he’s gonna have a lot of fun, but I don’t think you should have mentioned the Nazis,” the lady with a man’s middle name replied with a look of disgust..

“What do you mean?” he said and looked at the TV from his barstool. She sat on their gray, L-shaped sofa across the room and enjoyed side-eye and second fiddle to TV.

“Why did you tell them about the Nazis?” she asked in exasperation..

“I don’t know. It’s true,” he said smugly and looked at her like how could she even ask such a dumb question. He believed a family rumor that said he was related to Nazis. However, his son didn’t look anything like him and probably wasn’t even his biological son anyway. He just liked causing trouble for him because he was a jealous loser.

“Yeah. Did you really think that was appropriate at a family meet-n-greet for J’s fraternity?” she innocently asked and pressed him again.

A few hours earlier....

“I gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” J said to his mom and kissed her on the cheek. He could tell she was having a good time and he was happy too. J looked at his dad for his reaction and he nodded and looked down.

“Ok. Hurry back. Your bros might get us to dance if you take too long,” she said and winked. J’s father wouldn’t dance with her, but she thought this might be her big opportunity to let go.

“Don’t worry bro. She’s in good hands,” Marco Valdez said with a crooked smile and a nod while he put his arm around J’s mom like she might be his next conquest. J nodded and left.

“So what do you do for a living?” Sam Levy asked. J’s father already told everybody, but they were buzzed and just wanted to hear him talk.

“I sell computers. Did J tell you he was related to Nazis?” His father asked. Sam looked at Marco with very different faces. Sam was horrified and looked like he needed to change his underwear. Marco was giddy.

“No way,” Marco said through red eyes with baited breath.

“Are you serious?” Sam said in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, yeah. He hates talking about it, but I think that’s why he chose Kappa Alpha Order. You know because you guys are from the South,” he said and before he could elaborate J returned from the bathroom and they changed the subject.

J’s mom became very uncomfortable and she was at a loss for words. She knew the rumors and thought they were true, but J never identified with the Nazis. In fact, he was told to avoid taking about it and it never became part of his heritage to him. However, his fraternity brothers knew and it spread like wildfire. They did not bring it up directly for a long time because J seemed so clueless about their hints and Nazi jokes that they thought they needed to confirm the rumor.

After J graduated college he kept in touch with some of his bros. He also visited the national house in Kentucky. However, he decried their “spiritual leader” Robert E. Lee because he was a loser. The varlet still has not changed though.

In reality, Kappa Alpha was a new fraternity at San Diego State University. J decided to join because they recruited him out of the dorm and it was his way into parties. Also, they designed the pledge program as founding fathers which probably helped to avoid hazing pledges. J’s roommate rushed Beta and was not so lucky because they put him through hell.

“Is this everything?” the fire chief asked in a tongue-in-cheek way. One of the firefighters looked at the pill bottles in awe. He had never seen so many of them in one place.

“Yep. That’s it,” Alky Dangerflunk replied.

“We’ll incinerate them for you sir. Thanks for dropping them off and we’re sorry for your loss,” the chief said.

“No problem. Thanks,” Alky replied. The pill bottles belonged to his late wife. She was on all sorts of medication and liked to keep the bottles because she rarely finished an entire bottle. Alky suggested they keep the bottles because it would be bad for the environment if they threw pharmaceutical drugs in the trash. However, he was cruelly putting a few in her food every so often and waiting for the right time to put a toxic mixture of them in a meal.

One month earlier…

“Do you need anything else?” Alky asked his wife. He prepared her some food, but he added some of her medicine to it. In fact, he added several types of medicine to her soup and she didn’t notice as usual.

“No. This is good. What’s in it?” Sharon asked.

“I don’t know. Just vegetables and chicken broth like you like it. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Alky asked.

“Yeah. It’s fine. It could just use a little salt,” she said and her husband rolled his eyes and brought her the salt shaker.

The drugs made her feel ill, but not until later. She just felt sleepy after eating it. However, when she woke up she thought she was dying, but she did not know why.

Alky rushed her to the hospital playing the biggest acting role of his life and they bought it. Nobody suspected him at all.

Sharon was supposed to be in and out of the hospital. However, she had complications with diverticulitis. After catching a superbug and using a round of antibiotics in the hospital, she went into surgery after using the colostomy bag. However, they accidentally cut her small intestine and sewed her up before they realized it. When they discovered what they did it was too late and she died from sepsis.

After she died Alky cremated her body to destroy the evidence. She had told everybody that she did not want to be cremated, but he did it anyway. In fact, since she was a child her aunt Dixie and other religious leaders told her it was a grave sin to be cremated. Her grandparents, mom and aunts were buried in tombs in Jonesville, North Carolina.

“Sorry Jayce. We just had to put him down,” Mr. Campbell said with a disappointed look and a big shovel in his hand.

“Wow,” Jayce replied in awe.

“He was gettin’ real old and cranky,” Mr. Campbell said with a chuckle.

“He had cancer, was deaf in both ears and nearly blind in both eyes,” Mrs. Campbell chimed in.

“That’s right. That’s right. He was just a real big mess,” Mr. Campbell said seeming to justify his actions.

“I know. I guess that’s what happens,” Jayce said and shook his head.

“I know you were attached to him. Just remember he’s in a better place now,” Mr. Campbell said.

“Right. That’s good,” Jayce said with a glimmer of optimism in his eye.

“He couldn’t take care of himself anymore and he was incontinent and it was really gross,” Mrs. Campbell said with a look of disgust.

“Well, look on the bright side. At least he’s in heaven with your other animals,” Mr. Campbell said with a chuckle that made Jayce laugh.

“Ok. Good point. Thanks. Well, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” Jayce said.

“It was good to see you again. Keep in touch!” Mrs. Campbell said and Jayce left and walked across the street to his house, but without his father it just wouldn’t be the same.

“When I got sick do you remember the ambulance that came to our apartment in Linda Vista?” Jojo asked.

“Yeah. I remember. Why?” Sarine flippantly replied which was her style.

“Do you remember the guy that stuck a needle in my back?” they asked.

“Yeah when you got sick after that bad meat,” she said.

“Right. Do you remember what the person looked like that did it?” they asked.

“What he looked like? Dark hair. Short. In his 30s maybe. Why?” she replied.

“Where do you think he was from like which country?” they asked.

“Which country? I don’t know. He wasn’t Armenian or we would have talked. Maybe the Middle East,” she replied.

“Do you remember where he did it?” they asked.

“Where? In the living room. You curled up in a ball with the lights off and I was with Jordan,” she said.

“How did I react to the needle?” they asked.

“You yelled! You were in pain,” she replied almost gleefully.

“Right. My dad said it happened in a hospital, a woman did it and I screamed,” they said.

“Ha! A woman? In the hospital? No. He’s a psycho. What does he know?” she replied.

“Just perjury,” they replied and she would have laughed, but she didn’t get it yet.

“I think Js heading your way right now,” Bocephus said.

“Really? Why?” B. Itchian asked.

“I don’t know. He said something about taking Jordan somewhere,” Bo said in a sing-songy voice. He was lying.

“Really? Ok. I’ll let everybody know,” B. replied.

After she got off the phone she called Jordan’s relatives. Her dad lost most of his custody in court and they didn’t like him or want him around them anymore. In fact, one of them was so jealous of him and hated him so much that he wanted to hurt him.

Jordan’s dad checked into a hotel in Burbank, California. He left San Diego county because of some corrupt cops and evil family members. He was looking to start over somewhere like New York, San Francisco or Long Beach, California. This was his first stop.

He noticed a big bloodstain on the carpet in the hotel room. It was huge like somebody bled out. His mind was preoccupied from his ordeal, so he didn’t worry about it too much until he woke up.

“There’s a big stain on the carpet in this room and it looks like blood,” he said to the hotel manager on the phone.

“Are you checking out today?” he asked.

“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

“Yes. We know. Are you checking out?” he asked.

“Yeah. Can I get a late checkout though?” he replied.

“Twelve o’clock,” he said and hung up.

Jordan’s dad called the police about the bloodstain because he thought they might be covering up a murder. When they arrived he did not realize that one cop was notified that he was coming and recognized his phone number. However, he didn’t show his hand.

Jordan’s dad left the hotel and went to another hotel. He found one on Western in Los Angeles. It was seedy, but it was cheap.

In his room Jordan’s dad spoke in tongues and used his medical marijuana vaporizer. He sang songs and was watching Tiger Woods golf on TV.

When he peered out the window he noticed some police vehicles, so he wondered what was going on. He ignored them for a while, but when they didn’t leave he became concerned.

In his blue jeans with no shirt or shoes, he opened the door to get a better view. He noticed the same police officer from Burbank standing downstairs and facing his room. He also noticed a lit room with an open door down the hallway on the second floor. There were only two floors and seemingly nobody else around.

Jordan’s dad noticed that the cop was wearing a different name tag. The one in Burbank ended in “ian” which is a typical Armenian last name, but the one he wore in Los Angeles said something else.

Since the cop was on the phone, he gestured to him as if to ask what’s going on. He took six or seven steps outside his room and toward the open door. After getting an eerie feeling, he turned around to go back to his room. However, with lightning fast speed two big police officers ran down the hallway and grabbed him.

“Don’t resist!” one of them yelled.

“I’m not resisting!” he exclaimed.

With all of their might they restrained him and slammed a pair of handcuffs on him. They cut into his flesh and hurt so bad that he lost control of his bowels. Later he wondered if they would have thrown him off the balcony if he would have put up a fight.

Without charging him with a crime or reading him his rights, they detained him. They led him down the stairs and made him sit on the asphalt. While he waited they entered his room and searched it. He eventually got tired of sitting there with handcuffs behind his back, but every time he leaned to one side they yelled at him to sit up.

Until this day Jordan’s dad respected law enforcement a lot even though San Diego cops let him down and was part of a charade in conjunction with the federal government and Child Welfare Services. The Los Angeles cops mocked him and repeatedly tried to get him in an ambulance. He refused though because he thought they might kill him.

Eventually a cop named Sergeant A. Wright arrived and spoke to him. While they were speaking a big, bearded, black man was taken out of a hotel room in handcuffs and seated in the squad car.

The next day Jordan’s dad drove to the airport. While he was there he bought a one-way ticket to New York and flew across the country.

Wright might have used a fake name too because when he tried to sue them for police brutality they were unable to find and serve him. The judge dismissed the case without prejudice though, so he could pursue it again because she knew he was telling the truth.

Tom “Twilliger” Chase embraced his mom before they sat down for lunch.

“How have you been?” she asked kissing him on the cheek.

“Pretty good. Hawaii’s beautiful. Great weather and everything,” Twilliger said with a smile.

“I know! Your father and I go every year and we’ve done it since you were a kid,” she replied.

“I know. I remember. It was awesome, so I knew I’d like living there,” Twilliger replied.

“I’m starving. Let’s check out the menu. Do you know what you want?” she asked.

“Probably just a salad. Do they have any good salads?” Twilliger asked.

“Their Caesar salad is yummy. I might get that myself,” she said as she scanned the menu. “So what do you want to talk about? It sounded important on the phone. Are you ok?” she asked.

Twilliger became noticeably distraught and didn’t know where to begin.

“You don’t need money. Do you? Because we don’t have much extra money right now. Your father is looking for work and I’m retired,” she said with concern and a smile.

“No. I’m fine. I just needed to talk to you about something. Let’s order first and then I’ll tell you,” Twilliger replied.

The waiter took their order and they returned to their conversation after he left.

“Remember when I was a kid and we came back from North Carolina and talked about Mary Carol?” Twilliger asked. His mom took a minute and slowly replied.

“I don’t know. What do you mean?” she said and sighed looking straight ahead.

“Well, I was acting weird and you kept asking me what was wrong. Do you remember that?” Twilliger asked. “Uh huh. Yeah. It was a very long time ago you know,” she playfully said and sipped some water.

“You told her it was big and then she wanted to see it,” Twilliger said in disbelief.

“I know. I know. You were young and just hitting puberty. We probably shouldn’t be talking about this here,” she coyly said.

“I know. Why didn’t you or dad do anything about it?” Twilliger asked.

“What did you want us to do? I talked to your dad and you talked to dad and you seemed to be ok. Are you going to tell me we’re bad parents next? You know,” she said in a passive aggressive way, but Twilliger interrupted her.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying. I just didn’t understand why you guys didn’t press charges against her because I was just a child and she took advantage of me,” Twilliger said as tears welled up in his eyes.

“All we could do is trust in God that he would take care of it,” she said with tears welling up in her eyes. She took her sons hand and looked despondent.

“I wish it didn’t happen to me. It has caused me all kinds of problems in my relationships,” Twilliger said.

“We hoped that wouldn’t happen. You just never know. There wasn’t much we could do. Your dad said he was talking to you and you were ok,” she said.

Instead of pushing the issue Twilliger changed the subject. When he went to the bathroom he stopped the recording because he got what he was coming for.

“I don’t know. They just gave it to me as the oldest brother. You can’t tell anybody or they’ll stop giving it to me and you won’t get it,” the little wannabe Nazi said.

“How much like millions?” the poor veteran asked his older brother who was a veteran in another branch.

“Yep, but I can only use a certain amount every month. If I don’t use it, it rolls over to the next month, but when it’s gone it’s gone,” the lil Nazi said.

“I bet there are a lot of people getting money from them,” the poor man replied.

“Oh yeah. Think about the way people go after and attack the children of bad people like Hitler. They need it for protection,” the lil Nazi said.

“Will I get it at a certain age?” the poor brother asked.

“Yes, but only if I don’t have any heirs or dependents,” the lil Nazi said.

“What about J?” the poor man asked.

“J counts. I keep track of everything I give him and it comes from the Nazi fund, so he’s next in line before you,” the lil Nazi said.

“Wow. So if something were to happen to J I’d get it. Why not Casey?” the poor man asked. Casey was his older brother and an even more decorated veteran than their dad.

“There are lots of stipulations and he doesn’t qualify, but you do,” the lil Nazi said.

After that time the poor brother took it upon himself to monitor J and even harm him. When he learned that he was sleeping outside he hunted him down. While he was sleeping, he shot a powerful laser through his skull for several nights and he got away with it at least initially. However, it caused severe health problems.

Unfortunately for the poor brother the lil Nazi lied and there was no Nazi fund for him and no Nazi fund at all, so he died a poor, despicable man. He felt like he felt in the military after he said his valiant and decorated dad was related to Nazis and they confirmed it and then teased him relentlessly because they thought he was adopted.

“I can’t get it to work,” she said as she tried to shine the laser light pen through her face. It was one of the first ones ever made, but her dad was an officer in the military and they gave him one.

“Let me try before you use up the batteries,” her brother said and grabbed the pen from her.

“Mom will be home soon. Don’t let her see you with it,” she said. They were forbidden to play with their dad’s laser pen.

“Look at it,” her brother said shining the light through his eyeball. A beam shot out and for a minute everything looked intensely bright and sort of psychedelic.

“Wow!” she said in awe. However, after a few minutes the laser destroyed the nerves in his eye and he eventually suffered from a form of blindness for the rest of his life. He always blamed her though.

His vision was impaired, so he called it colorblindness and usually got away with it. They didn’t have the technology to understand what happened and what would happen next though.

Losing some vision upset him and he took his anger out on his sister and small animals. In fact, he plotted to use the laser on her in her sleep. He never got his wish, but he eventually used one on somebody else by tapping into evil urges that were instilled by the government.

The exasperated man turned on the television with his remote control and sat in the middle of the sofa.

“More U.S. diplomats have come down with Havana Syndrome. We’ll bring you an exclusive story right after these messages,” James Atsoca said.

“Feeling down? Need a lift? Nutisista has been shown to elevate mood in people that have been diagnosed with depression,” a calm voice said as a an old man in a sport jacket forced a smile.

“More drug commercials? Jesus Christ,” the beleaguered man said and sipped water.

“Side effects may include decreased libido, sexual dysfunction, panic attacks and arterial bleeding,” the calm voice said and the man spit out the water in shock.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed and sipped more water.

“Rare side effects include vomiting, vertigo, vision problems and uncontrollable bowel movements,” the calm voice said and the man spit out the water again and turned off the TV.

It was 5 p.m. and he wanted to visit his mom’s memorial before dark. Last time he was there he met somebody that knew her and they had an amazing conversation. Her body wasn’t actually in a grave though because his dad cremated her and scattered her ashes. Nonetheless, the memorial at the graveyard that the disenchanted man made for her sufficed.

This is the end of A Brand New World: The Addendum. Continue reading the ABNW series in Addendum #2 and Grave Conversations which will be concurrently written.