Prologue
In Fremont Nebraska, seventeen-year old David Kent walked into his family living room. He was not as chipper as he usually had been. Something bothered him; unfortunately he had no idea what it was. He felt as if he was drifting through life now. Dave was not even sure if he was awake now. It seemed as if everything was a dream; none of what was going on was real, what he was about to do couldn’t have really happened.
David’s family noticed something was different; something was not right with him. His mother figured it was just him being a teenager. She had gone through it with Dave’s older brother Robert and she would eventually go through it with her youngest child, Monica. Julia never thought too much when her teenage children moped. She knew it was just something they did.
Dave, are you okay?” she asked, not truly caring to hear the shallow, faux-philosophical answer she figured he’d give her.
Dave nodded his head. He pulled back the long blonde hair out of his eyes to reveal his face, which had a light amount of stubble growing. At another point in his life, Dave was happy that the stubble had come, primarily because it hid at least a little of the acne that had accumulated on his face. Dave looked at his family in a trance. His older brother teased him.
“Dave, you bummed about not having a date to prom? If you ask nicely Stacey would go with you,” Dave’s brother Robert teased about their cousin.
Dave, who wore skinny black jeans, a white t-shirt, and black and white Vans, slowly turned to his brother, who sat in his father’s reclining chair. Without thinking twice David turned away from his brother and walked past the stairs, in which he had just come down, and he marched into the kitchen.
David rumbled through the drawers. He was looking for something, but wasn’t quite sure why he was looking for it. He stayed in the kitchen for about two to three minutes before he returned with a butcher’s knife in his hand. His brother Robert was watching television. When Robert turned to see his brother, he was confused and intrigued; that is until his younger brother stood in the doorway of the family room and began laughing.
Dave’s laugh was demented and was very unlike his normal laugh. This laugh showed that something was truly broken in the young man. Robert grew afraid as his brother approached him with the knife raised in the air. Robert thought his brother was playing an unfunny, cruel joke on him, therefore he did not move when his brother swiftly stabbed him in the left side of his chest. Robert was surprised, but could not move. Dave removed the knife and cut his brother’s throat. Dave’s mother ran over to him to stop him. Unfortunately before she could reach him, Dave swung to the left and with amazing speed stabbed her in the stomach. Blood poured from her mouth. David pulled the knife out of her stomach and cut her throat.
Upstairs ten year old Monica had heard a commotion. She was curious as to why there was suddenly so much fuss down stairs. Being the inquisitive little girl that she was, she made her way downstairs. She was horrified when she saw her older brother and mother dead on the floor bleeding.
Monica barely saw David before he rushed at her from her left, knocked her down, and cut her throat. Dave’s little sister had run down the stairs of the once peaceful home and was cut down in the dawn of her life. Suddenly Dave fell unconscious as the last member of his family knocked him out by hitting him in the back of the head with a vase. Dave’s father, Robert Sr., stood over the body of his unconscious son in tears knowing that his son killed everyone in his family. He wished that he had come inside a little sooner. If he had maybe he could have saved his family and maybe even saved his son. Unfortunately all was now lost, his family was lost. Robert Sr. tied up his son, called the police and cried until they arrived.
In Vergennes, Vermont thirty-two year old Wesley Peterson was in a hotel room. The hotel was classy and expensive. Wesley had brought his mistress there many times. He loved the place and so did she. The hotel was made to look like a mansion. The front of the three floor hotel had many windows. Before the front doors were tall pillars that stood like sentinels watching the hotel and keeping it safe. In front of the pillars was a sheltered, inclined walkway that covered patrons from the driveway to the front door. The pillars and the walkway were painted white, which matched the light dusting of snow that was on the ground.
The room that Wesley was in was exquisite. Next to the front door was a single seat cushioned chair. Beyond that was a mahogany coffee table that had the center cut out and glass placed into the cut. Past that was a fire place that had a steel gate in front of it. Behind the coffee table was a love seat. Following the love seat was a wall that flowed into a hallway that led to a kitchen which had a sub-zero refrigerator next to an oven.
The bedroom was in a door that was down a hallway to the right of the front door. The bedroom was sensuous and comfortable. The bed was a king size bed with five hundred thread count sheets and a dark blue comforter. The pillows were filled with feathers and covered in silk pillow covers. Across from the bed was a cushioned wooden chair in which Wesley sat.
The woman sitting across from him was a tanned-skinned, beautiful, educated young college graduate. Her breasts were perky and seemed to stand at attention at all times. Her butt was round, smooth, and soft. The young woman had full lips and long blonde hair. Quite simply, she oozed the aura of sex and lust. She was the complete opposite of the man who sat across from her. He was hairy all over, except on his head. He had begun going bald at age twenty-six. His skin was pale and he could not remember the last time that he had seen his toes. He wondered sometimes how he got a woman like Rachel to sleep with him on a regular basis. He wanted to believe that he was that debonair. In actuality it was because he made four million a year and Rachel loved rich married guys.
Rachel made her way over to the bed. Slowly she took off her robe to reveal her perfect body. Wesley could feel blood rushing south in his own body. He wanted to jump her then and there, but he restrained himself. She slowly laid down on the bed and put her index and middle finger in her mouth to moisten them. Then she slowly moved them down and began to rub herself as if she were wiping ink from a school desk.
Wesley could not restrain himself any longer. He stood with his manhood fully aroused. He made his way over to the bed and came to Rachel. As he entered her she moaned a little and winced. She was glad that if she was going to have an affair with a man like Wesley that he was nice in bed. Every time that he moaned and pumped forward she sighed a little enjoying every pump. Rachel could feel Wesley going deep inside her and she wished that the thrilling feeling she felt would never end. She began to moan more and more as Wesley began to speed up his pace. Her eyes were closed and she just allowed herself to escape into a fantasy world.
Eventually, she glanced back up to Wesley, whose countenance had begun to change. He slowly began to cease his actions and moved his hands up to her neck and began to choke her. She initially thought he was being kinky, but soon she learned that he was not. Before she could fight him off, her last breath escaped her.
Wesley got dressed. Then he left the hotel room. He ventured downstairs and was silent. The woman, Valerie, at the front desk tried to speak to him.
“Mr. Peterson is everything okay with your room?” she asked oblivious to the fact that there was a dead woman in there now.
Wesley only nodded, but said nothing. He draped his coat, which he had been previously carrying, over his shoulders and snaked his arms into the sleeves and made his way into the cold September Vermont night. He walked for at least five minutes before he entered a convenience store. He had no idea what he wanted to buy; he only knew that he wanted something.
The cashier cordially spoke to Wesley. Wesley did not respond, instead he went to the back and picked up a beer, opened it and began drinking. The cashier warned him to pay first. Without a single emotion on his face Wesley walked up to the counter and jumped over it. He then punched the cashier, who had been scrambling for his pistol, in the throat. Wesley quickly found the pistol and shot the cashier two times in the chest. Satisfied with what he had done, Wesley then walked out of the store and into the parking lot. Then pulled the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. His body hit the pavement with a loud thump.
Alan Yancey came home to his wife of three years in Santa Fe, New Mexico. He was twenty-nine and had a good life. He and his wife had just bought their new house in New Mexico. Alan worked for Mega Corp; a computer programming company. His wife Lori, he met in college at southern California. Alan had just returned from a business trip. He was hungry and asked his wife to make him a sandwich; she gladly did so. Alan turned on the television and began to watch a zombie movie on one of the premium channels. His wife loved those movies because it gave her and her husband a chance to cuddle.
As she entered the room, Alan admired the full-figured body of his wife. He never did like the stick-thin model types. Alan loved women with meat on their bones. Lori was especially cute now that she had recently gotten her hair done and her nails painted. Her chocolate skin tone made the light and dark brown shades in her hair sizzle. Alan loved that fact that he had a woman whose butt shook as much as it did when she walked. He used to tell his friends that Lori had, “more cushion for the pushin’” As his wife sat next to him he put his arm around her and pulled her close.
As they began to watch the movie Lori asked her husband for a soda. She had forgotten to bring them herself. Alan gladly agreed and walked into the kitchen. About two minutes later Lori felt a swift cutoff of air. She pulled her hands up to her neck to try to pull the rope down. She was unsuccessful. Alan held the rope tight until his wife stopped moving. Then with a demented look in his eyes he smiled to himself. He then went outside to get in his car.
Alan was about to leave when his neighbors, a husband and wife, walked over to invite him to a cookout. Alan got out of the car and began to beat the man with a tire iron he had in his back seat. The man stood no chance. The woman ran home and called police, unfortunately she was cut off by Alan who had come into her home. He then proceeded to beat her to a bloody pulp. Another neighbor saw all of this and called the police, but did not exit his house. By the time Alan had gotten to the end of the street, he was surrounded by police officers. Alan surrendered peacefully, he would remember nothing.
Brandi Ruiz was forty-three years old. Her story was different from the others. She was not a successful businessperson or a computer programmer. She was a lowly factory worker in Elma, Washington. She had worked at Harper Industries for twenty-one years. Her story began when she awoke from sleep at five-fifteen in the morning on September 17, 2012. She had to go to work, but instead she grabbed the gun from her nightstand and rolled over to look at the empty spot that she felt should have a husband lying in it. She walked down the hall to the room in which her sister stayed and kicked in the door. Her sister and her sister’s boyfriend were in the middle of sex when Brandi raised the gun up to them and shot six shots killing them both.
Brandi’s father, Emilio, ran down the hall to stop his daughter. He soon learned how foolish it was to do this. He was shot once in the head and his body slumped to the floor. Brandi then went to her car and drove to the police station and turned herself in for murder.
A discussion on umbrellas
A discussion on gospel
you choose which is better
“So are you going to be a punk about this or are you going to ask her?” Pete asked.
“Okay, one I’m not a punk and two I’ll ask when I’m ready,” Ezekiel answered.
“Are you going to ask her or what?”
Regina Smith walked down the hall and in Ezekiel’s, ‘Zeke’, mind she walked in slow motion, with a fan blowing her hair and she walked like a runway model. She stopped in front of Zeke and Pete.
“Hey Pete. What’s up Zeke?”
Tell me who George Lucas is? Star Wars, Indiana Jones, Mark Hamill, Darth Vader, Short-Round, Luke Skywalker. All that was him. The man is a multi-billionaire…with a capital B.
The man crapped out Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. He can get financing to make a movie about a man who fights aliens using his boogers.
We know who he is. Now for his friends, Steven Spielberg, Peter Jackson, studio execs and producers from all over.
Tamara was furious. Her friend had been asking her for weeks to go to a club with her in Raleigh. Jeanine was persistent in her requests. Tamara finally broke down and went against her better judgments and joined her friend.
About thirty minutes into their adventure Tamara began to regret her choice. Jeanine had left her alone to spend most of her night with a pale man dressed in black. His hair was messy and unkempt. He was thin and looked sad. Tamara was not sure about him, but she allowed her anger to distract her.
“Jeanine, I’m not into this place; let’s go.”
Jeanine pulled Tamara away from her man. She had a look of anger in her eyes.
Everybody Loves Raymond, King of Queens, ‘Til Death, all Tyler Perry tv shows and most shows with overused laugh tracks have one thing in common…dumb men.
This has been one thing that has annoyed me for quite some time now. I understand that this was done because for years women were portrayed as at home in the kitchen all day in Leave it to Beaver/ Andy Griffith days. However the result of this is a genre that has ignorant men and women who are sultans of intelligence.
Listening to the radio a while back I heard a gentleman saying that many college graduates don’t get jobs after school because once they get into the interview they act as if they are entitled to the job. Personally I believe this is poppycock. The problem is not graduate arrogance, but the catch 22 of needing a degree to get the job but then needing the experience in the field. How do I gain experience if I can get a chance to get experience.
Personally I am filling out applications and praying. I figure with God on my side I can’t lose. The problem is that sometimes the flesh will try to make you doubt that God is listening. I have to constantly remind myself that he is listening. I also have to remind myself that he has a plan for me. It is not graduate arrogance that is keeping me from a job, but God preparing me for a career. While looking for work he keeps me with food, clothes, a part time job, and shelter. This provides me with more time to spend with him. So when this season is over I can rejoice knowing that my past prepared me for my future.
I know some of the this is the post seem to not have anything to do with each other, I was just…thinking through my keyboard.
Do big things in a big way.
It was twelve thirty seven when Jason pulled up two blocks away from Mario’s Lounge and Bar. Silas had listened to Jason explain everything that happened in Cakes’ room and understood. He knew why this hit close to home for Jason. He knew that they both would get chewed out later for this, but for now they were proud.
Before Jason could get out of the car, Silas turned to him and told him how they would operate once inside the night club.
“Jason put your guns up.”
