Entry for The Friday Challenge 9/18/09 Since it's a picture, you really need to look at it to understand the story.
Carlos did a double take at his computer screen, and his jaw dropped as he stared at the strange picture that had been posted on his favorite blog. It wasn't the strangeness of it, but rather its familiarity that had caught his attention.
He rummaged through the papers on his desk and finally found the letter he had received from his grandfather's lawyer last week. He pulled out the enclosed picture and looked at it again. It looked like the same picture, but when he held it up to the screen, he saw it was slightly different. It had the same people, but their expressions and positions weren't quite identical. Except for the thing in the middle. That part was exactly the same.
The pictures showed a dozen or so men, dressed like Mexican soldiers, all with ammunition belts crossed over their chests and another one around their waists. They each had a rifle poised butt down on the dirt. In the center of the group was something that looked like the tin woodsman out of The Wizard of Oz, only he also had the rifle and ammunition belts, and he stood a foot taller than most of the men.
Carlos opened the letter and read it again. It seemed very ordinary, just a letter informing him that his grandfather had left him this picture and some papers which he would be expected to pick up at his earliest convenience and please call for an appointment, etc. He hadn't called yet. It didn't seem urgent, since he was unaware of anything valuable owned by his grandfather.
A week later, Carlos walked in to the lawyer's office, picture in hand. The papers were quite interesting, especially the one that gave the names of the men in the picture, and also the name of the metal man, “Centavos Man.” However, Carlos' grandfather had given him the nickname “The Six Million Centavos Man” after the TV show. Carlos remembered his grandfather watching that show and laughing at its name.
As the lawyer answered his many questions, he learned that each man in the photo had a similar picture, and each had arranged with a lawyer to keep in touch with the other lawyers, and when the last man in the picture had died, all the next of kin would be sent the pictures and receive this same information.
“But why wait until they were all dead?” puzzled Carlos.
“Because they could still be charged with murder if they were alive,” explained the lawyer. “This group of men were known as the Centavos Gang. They robbed quite a few banks in their day, and anything else that had money. But they only took pennies, or in Mexico, centavos. There were a few people that were shot during their robberies, and some died. I've just learned all this myself, now that we could open the papers left in our care by your grandfather.”
Carlos sat in silence, absorbing it all. He had no idea his grandfather had such an interesting past. But where was the money? Had it been melted down and used to make Centavos Man? And if so, where was he?
There were still many unanswered questions, and several more papers to study. Time to meet the other relatives. If they put their heads together, they might figure it out and end up rich. He was going to start with the person who ran that blog.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Nine Eleven
Friday Challenge 9/11/09 - memories
At the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center, I was driving to work. The radio was on, but it wasn’t a station that had news, or at least not the what’s-happening-right-this-minute kind of news. I got all the way to my cubicle on the fourth and top floor of the Hornet building and settled in to start work before Tom popped his head over the cubicle wall and told me about it.
Now you have to keep in mind the fact that Tom always popped his head over the cubicle wall and said something strange. Often he just woofed at me (he has Saint Bernards, and yes that is plural) and disappeared. I think this might have been his way of saying it was a good day and he was feeling great. He always got me laughing, and he is a good programmer, which is sometimes a rarity.
By the time Tom told me about the first plane, there were already rumors about a helicopter crashing at the pentagon. At least they knew there was a lot of black smoke there. So it never really seemed to me like it could have been an accident. There was a debate going on amongst the fourth floor occupants about it, but that ended shortly when the second plane crashed into the other tower. After that, nobody did much work. Radios were on all over the building.
The Hornet building, named after the street it is on, is the counterpart of the building ~brb was in that day. It is about a mile from the end of a main runway at Lambert. The usual wind direction made it a main runway for planes taking off. Depending what direction they were aiming for, they would often go right over us. If you happened to be looking at the windows, you would see the plane’s shadow block the sunlight for half a second. Larger planes made the building shake. Being on the top floor made it louder. Sometimes in a meeting or on the phone we would have to wait for the noise to die down before continuing. I had been there for a few months, but I still noticed when the building shook.
When the planes stopped, all the radios became noticeable. And every morning for weeks after that, I noticed the fighter jets taking off. It was the same time every day, and there were always four of them, about a minute apart. No matter how deep my brain was into a program, it came back up at the sound of that first jet, counted four of them, and only then would it be able to return to the task at hand.
And boy, do I remember the day a couple weeks later that plane near Chicago failed to identify itself! I swear there were at least a dozen fighters streaking off to Chicago. It was obvious something was happening, but none of the radios or web sites had any information. I didn’t hear what it was until that evening. Didn’t get much done that day, either.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
As for making sense of it, I just now figured it out. I know, I know, I'm really gullible and naïve.
Hey, there are two dots over that “i.” When did that start happening? The computer knows what word I'm using the “i” in, and puts one or two dots accordingly? But … those two dots are German, aren't they? And naïve is a French word, isn't it? Blastit.
Being here at The Friday Challenge has opened my eyes to a lot of things. Not just books I never heard of, but new ideas to argue about, and gobs of conspiracy theories. But they are hidden very well, and if it hadn't been for the new view on life that I picked up in Nashville this summer, I probably wouldn't have noticed a thing.
The tip-off was Topher's tale of Pompeii's last summer. I searched for disasters in 1883 (and found Krakatoa), and there were loads of them. I never knew about most of them. And it wasn't just 1883. There were disasters every year that wiped out whole villages or families. I began to notice the islands. They seemed to have an affinity for wiping out whole islands, or at least getting rid of all the people on them. There was that island off the eastern seaboard in the sixteenth century. All the people just disappeared.
Manhattan is an island.
I believe their original plan was to convince New Yorkers that Manhattan was sinking, and to fix it they needed to saw off the island, tow it out a ways, turn it around, and push it back.** The only problem was that Long Island was in the way. Of course, what they didn't tell the New Yorkers was that they had no intention of pushing the island back. They wanted to tow it out into the ocean and just sink the whole thing.
When that plan fell through, they thought up a different one.
The only thing I haven't figured out yet is this: Did Topher stumble on this pattern by accident? Or is he one of them? Or is everybody at The Friday Challenge one of them?
Am I one of them?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
** Wikipedia
- - - - - - - - - - - -
At the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center, I was driving to work. The radio was on, but it wasn’t a station that had news, or at least not the what’s-happening-right-this-minute kind of news. I got all the way to my cubicle on the fourth and top floor of the Hornet building and settled in to start work before Tom popped his head over the cubicle wall and told me about it.
Now you have to keep in mind the fact that Tom always popped his head over the cubicle wall and said something strange. Often he just woofed at me (he has Saint Bernards, and yes that is plural) and disappeared. I think this might have been his way of saying it was a good day and he was feeling great. He always got me laughing, and he is a good programmer, which is sometimes a rarity.
By the time Tom told me about the first plane, there were already rumors about a helicopter crashing at the pentagon. At least they knew there was a lot of black smoke there. So it never really seemed to me like it could have been an accident. There was a debate going on amongst the fourth floor occupants about it, but that ended shortly when the second plane crashed into the other tower. After that, nobody did much work. Radios were on all over the building.
The Hornet building, named after the street it is on, is the counterpart of the building ~brb was in that day. It is about a mile from the end of a main runway at Lambert. The usual wind direction made it a main runway for planes taking off. Depending what direction they were aiming for, they would often go right over us. If you happened to be looking at the windows, you would see the plane’s shadow block the sunlight for half a second. Larger planes made the building shake. Being on the top floor made it louder. Sometimes in a meeting or on the phone we would have to wait for the noise to die down before continuing. I had been there for a few months, but I still noticed when the building shook.
When the planes stopped, all the radios became noticeable. And every morning for weeks after that, I noticed the fighter jets taking off. It was the same time every day, and there were always four of them, about a minute apart. No matter how deep my brain was into a program, it came back up at the sound of that first jet, counted four of them, and only then would it be able to return to the task at hand.
And boy, do I remember the day a couple weeks later that plane near Chicago failed to identify itself! I swear there were at least a dozen fighters streaking off to Chicago. It was obvious something was happening, but none of the radios or web sites had any information. I didn’t hear what it was until that evening. Didn’t get much done that day, either.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
As for making sense of it, I just now figured it out. I know, I know, I'm really gullible and naïve.
Hey, there are two dots over that “i.” When did that start happening? The computer knows what word I'm using the “i” in, and puts one or two dots accordingly? But … those two dots are German, aren't they? And naïve is a French word, isn't it? Blastit.
Being here at The Friday Challenge has opened my eyes to a lot of things. Not just books I never heard of, but new ideas to argue about, and gobs of conspiracy theories. But they are hidden very well, and if it hadn't been for the new view on life that I picked up in Nashville this summer, I probably wouldn't have noticed a thing.
The tip-off was Topher's tale of Pompeii's last summer. I searched for disasters in 1883 (and found Krakatoa), and there were loads of them. I never knew about most of them. And it wasn't just 1883. There were disasters every year that wiped out whole villages or families. I began to notice the islands. They seemed to have an affinity for wiping out whole islands, or at least getting rid of all the people on them. There was that island off the eastern seaboard in the sixteenth century. All the people just disappeared.
Manhattan is an island.
I believe their original plan was to convince New Yorkers that Manhattan was sinking, and to fix it they needed to saw off the island, tow it out a ways, turn it around, and push it back.** The only problem was that Long Island was in the way. Of course, what they didn't tell the New Yorkers was that they had no intention of pushing the island back. They wanted to tow it out into the ocean and just sink the whole thing.
When that plan fell through, they thought up a different one.
The only thing I haven't figured out yet is this: Did Topher stumble on this pattern by accident? Or is he one of them? Or is everybody at The Friday Challenge one of them?
Am I one of them?
- - - - - - - - - - - -
** Wikipedia
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Thursday, September 10, 2009
What I did on my summer vacation
The Friday Challenge for 9/4/09 is to write an essay about what you would like to have done on your summer vacation.
This summer, my vacation was very restful and refreshing. I needed that badly after the long, intense project at work. I think the Doctor needed the rest, too, judging by a couple of offhanded comments he made.
We went to some very novel places, but all of them had one thing in common: there were no demands on us. There was nothing on a to-do list, no cooking or cleaning, and most importantly, no stress. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery, or make friends with the local creatures. There were a few more exciting moments here and there, like our visit to Trenco, but I never felt in danger. The Doctor has many talents, and he always made sure we were safe.
Our first stop was Zabriska. I had always wanted to see a fontema in person, and I was especially curious about their water needs. The descriptions of Zabriska never included any water. No rivers, lakes, ponds, rain, or even dew. But I found it hard to believe that a creature could exist without water of any kind. I was also curious about Zabriska’s sun. Since it provided all the nourishment a fontema needed, would it be beneficial to a human, or harmful?
We touched down halfway between the equator and a pole, and the Doctor ran his tests on the sunlight. After several minutes, he decided it would not be harmful to either of us, but it wouldn’t be beneficial, either. It was simply very different. We didn’t have the receptors the fontemas had, so we had no way of receiving any energy or nourishment from it.
We opened the door and stepped out onto the dry, sandy surface of Zabriska, and started looking for a fontema. We had brought along our own shade in case we had to wait a while, so we set up the umbrella and lounge chairs and had a picnic. This gave us the chance to experiment a little with water.
We found that a drop of water spilled on the ground would evaporate very quickly, but it seemed to form a tiny thin cloud just above the ground. There was no wind, so the cloud didn’t move. This caused the Doctor to go hunting for more testing equipment so he could test the air. He found the air was full of evaporated water, enough so there wasn’t any more room for the drop we had spilled. It stayed partly condensed in the air rather than completely evaporating.
We were both scratching our heads over that one, but the Doctor couldn’t rest until he figured out how it worked, so he kept poking around with various machines, talking to himself and making vigorous hand gestures. I think he did figure it out, but I didn’t understand much of his explanation. I caught the fact that the ground was hotter than the air, and that made more water able to evaporate on the ground than in the air. He also launched into some theories about fontema skin really being their stomach, which could absorb water from the air and transform sunlight into energy. It was interesting, but too much work for my brain on vacation.
While he was working on the water question, I got out my book to read. I was about halfway through Havah, which was the perfect book to read on vacation. It was very soothing and full of exquisite beauty. I kept checking the stretch of dirt in front of me for any sign of a fontema, and finally I saw a slight movement off in the distance. I picked up the binoculars and tried a closer look. It was definitely a moving creature, coming right toward us.
We had an interesting time playing with the fontema, which completely ignored us no matter what we did. It acted exactly like all the descriptions of it, falling asleep instantly when we shaded it from the sun. I felt much more appreciative of the expression “less brains than a Zabriskan fontema.”
As we were just about to pack up and leave, we spotted another one coming toward us, and we turned around the one we had been playing with to head toward it. We got to see first hand the reproductive process of fontemas, which was about as exciting as that of amoebas. They met, merged, and divided into four fontemas, who immediately moved off in the four different directions.
From Zabriska we went to Trenco. We had a big advantage in our method of travel, because we didn’t have to face the winds or the chaotic perception changes. We could put down inside the shelter instead of having to time our landing during the time of the least wind, then spend a very short time doing whatever we had come for and take off before the winds became too strong.
I spent most of my time there staring out through the thick plexiglass, or whatever it was, watching the plants grow. I thought the “tree weeds” in my yard grew fast, 15 feet in a couple of months, but this was unbelievable. These plants lived for one day, because they couldn’t withstand the violent wind and storms during the night. Each morning seeds sprouted, the huge leaves grew in a few hours, more seeds were produced and deposited into the mud, swirled away to another part of the planet during the night while the leaves were ripped up and shredded by the wind, and everything started over the next day.
All I could think was thionite must be some terrific drug to make people risk their lives to gather the leaves to make it.
Our last stop was Arisia. We contacted the authority to get permission to come, and Mentor met us as we walked in the garden. Actually, we had gotten separated by that time, so Mentor met each of us. To me she appeared as a beautiful and very wise woman, dressed in flowing magenta and gold robes. Even though I knew she was really not a single entity, but a four-way Arisian mind meld, it was hard to think of her like that.
I’m not sure how long we were there, but it was completely refreshing to me. I basked in Mentor’s presence as in the sun, and my spirit relaxed and stretched like a sleepy cat. We talked about deep things, both dark and joyous, and I felt my soul growing in wisdom and understanding.
As in all good vacations, I regretted having to come back home. I would especially miss the suite of rooms the Doctor had created for me. They had everything I could have wanted in a house. I would love to spend more time there.
As I opened the door and stepped out into my own yard, I turned back to look at the Doctor. “Will you come and pick me up next year for my vacation?” I asked.
“Of course,” he answered with a smile. “It will be in August, and we will be going to the sci-fi conference near Henry’s house. We can stop and pick up anybody else that needs transportation – Minnesota for Bruce, Nashville for Vidad, Texas for the Bandit, Colorado Springs for Rain and Waterboy, New Jersey for Snowdog, and even Italy for Vox. There are plenty of rooms for anybody that wants to sleep here, and the Tardis will fit in Henry’s back yard. Just tell everyone to let me know.”
This summer, my vacation was very restful and refreshing. I needed that badly after the long, intense project at work. I think the Doctor needed the rest, too, judging by a couple of offhanded comments he made.
We went to some very novel places, but all of them had one thing in common: there were no demands on us. There was nothing on a to-do list, no cooking or cleaning, and most importantly, no stress. Just sit back and enjoy the scenery, or make friends with the local creatures. There were a few more exciting moments here and there, like our visit to Trenco, but I never felt in danger. The Doctor has many talents, and he always made sure we were safe.
Our first stop was Zabriska. I had always wanted to see a fontema in person, and I was especially curious about their water needs. The descriptions of Zabriska never included any water. No rivers, lakes, ponds, rain, or even dew. But I found it hard to believe that a creature could exist without water of any kind. I was also curious about Zabriska’s sun. Since it provided all the nourishment a fontema needed, would it be beneficial to a human, or harmful?
We touched down halfway between the equator and a pole, and the Doctor ran his tests on the sunlight. After several minutes, he decided it would not be harmful to either of us, but it wouldn’t be beneficial, either. It was simply very different. We didn’t have the receptors the fontemas had, so we had no way of receiving any energy or nourishment from it.
We opened the door and stepped out onto the dry, sandy surface of Zabriska, and started looking for a fontema. We had brought along our own shade in case we had to wait a while, so we set up the umbrella and lounge chairs and had a picnic. This gave us the chance to experiment a little with water.
We found that a drop of water spilled on the ground would evaporate very quickly, but it seemed to form a tiny thin cloud just above the ground. There was no wind, so the cloud didn’t move. This caused the Doctor to go hunting for more testing equipment so he could test the air. He found the air was full of evaporated water, enough so there wasn’t any more room for the drop we had spilled. It stayed partly condensed in the air rather than completely evaporating.
We were both scratching our heads over that one, but the Doctor couldn’t rest until he figured out how it worked, so he kept poking around with various machines, talking to himself and making vigorous hand gestures. I think he did figure it out, but I didn’t understand much of his explanation. I caught the fact that the ground was hotter than the air, and that made more water able to evaporate on the ground than in the air. He also launched into some theories about fontema skin really being their stomach, which could absorb water from the air and transform sunlight into energy. It was interesting, but too much work for my brain on vacation.
While he was working on the water question, I got out my book to read. I was about halfway through Havah, which was the perfect book to read on vacation. It was very soothing and full of exquisite beauty. I kept checking the stretch of dirt in front of me for any sign of a fontema, and finally I saw a slight movement off in the distance. I picked up the binoculars and tried a closer look. It was definitely a moving creature, coming right toward us.
We had an interesting time playing with the fontema, which completely ignored us no matter what we did. It acted exactly like all the descriptions of it, falling asleep instantly when we shaded it from the sun. I felt much more appreciative of the expression “less brains than a Zabriskan fontema.”
As we were just about to pack up and leave, we spotted another one coming toward us, and we turned around the one we had been playing with to head toward it. We got to see first hand the reproductive process of fontemas, which was about as exciting as that of amoebas. They met, merged, and divided into four fontemas, who immediately moved off in the four different directions.
From Zabriska we went to Trenco. We had a big advantage in our method of travel, because we didn’t have to face the winds or the chaotic perception changes. We could put down inside the shelter instead of having to time our landing during the time of the least wind, then spend a very short time doing whatever we had come for and take off before the winds became too strong.
I spent most of my time there staring out through the thick plexiglass, or whatever it was, watching the plants grow. I thought the “tree weeds” in my yard grew fast, 15 feet in a couple of months, but this was unbelievable. These plants lived for one day, because they couldn’t withstand the violent wind and storms during the night. Each morning seeds sprouted, the huge leaves grew in a few hours, more seeds were produced and deposited into the mud, swirled away to another part of the planet during the night while the leaves were ripped up and shredded by the wind, and everything started over the next day.
All I could think was thionite must be some terrific drug to make people risk their lives to gather the leaves to make it.
Our last stop was Arisia. We contacted the authority to get permission to come, and Mentor met us as we walked in the garden. Actually, we had gotten separated by that time, so Mentor met each of us. To me she appeared as a beautiful and very wise woman, dressed in flowing magenta and gold robes. Even though I knew she was really not a single entity, but a four-way Arisian mind meld, it was hard to think of her like that.
I’m not sure how long we were there, but it was completely refreshing to me. I basked in Mentor’s presence as in the sun, and my spirit relaxed and stretched like a sleepy cat. We talked about deep things, both dark and joyous, and I felt my soul growing in wisdom and understanding.
As in all good vacations, I regretted having to come back home. I would especially miss the suite of rooms the Doctor had created for me. They had everything I could have wanted in a house. I would love to spend more time there.
As I opened the door and stepped out into my own yard, I turned back to look at the Doctor. “Will you come and pick me up next year for my vacation?” I asked.
“Of course,” he answered with a smile. “It will be in August, and we will be going to the sci-fi conference near Henry’s house. We can stop and pick up anybody else that needs transportation – Minnesota for Bruce, Nashville for Vidad, Texas for the Bandit, Colorado Springs for Rain and Waterboy, New Jersey for Snowdog, and even Italy for Vox. There are plenty of rooms for anybody that wants to sleep here, and the Tardis will fit in Henry’s back yard. Just tell everyone to let me know.”
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Southern Knights: The Movie
This is a last minute entry for the 8/28/09 Friday Challenge, write a scenario for a movie of the Southern Knights comic book series.
Dragon has changed into his human guise, Mark Dagon, in order to go shopping for party supplies for the Southern Knights celebration that night. They are celebrating getting out of Atlanta. Their new location will be Hookworm, Mississippi, and they are planning to leave the next day.
While he is in the 7-11, a crazy but beautiful (in a slutty way) woman comes in with a big gun, looking for her ex-boyfriend. She sees Mark and thinks he's the boyfriend and shoots him three times in the back. When he falls down, she sees he's not the boyfriend, and she drags his unconscious body out to her car and drives him back to her dumpy, run-down shack out in the rural outskirts of Atlanta.
He is not quite dead, and she nurses him for a month until he regains consciousness. He has amnesia and doesn't remember he is really a dragon. She has fallen in love with him while he was unconscious, and he becomes her current boyfriend. She convinces him he used to help her rob convenience stores, and they eventually go out to rob one.
Meanwhile back at the ... lair of the Southern Knights, when Dragon never shows up, they go looking for him, but can't find him. They decide he has left the gang because he didn't really want to leave Atlanta, so they go on to Hookworm without him. But about six months later, they see security camera pictures of him robbing a 7-11 in Atlanta with his girlfriend ("Do you know either of these people? Call this number to tip off the police."), and they recognize him and go back to Atlanta to rescue him from this life of crime.
The ex-boyfriend also sees the pics and recognizes the ex-girlfriend, and he knows where to find her. So he goes to her shanty to try to rescue her from this life of crime. He is not the horrible monster you might have thought, but rather just a bumbling idiot. (Perfect part for Larry the cable guy.)
When Larry arrives at the shack, he manages to make Mark really mad, and he changes into Dragon unexpectedly. Dragon is horrified and thinks he has become a monster, and he goes off to find a bridge to jump from. Unfortunately, he can fly, so he isn't hurt by jumping.
At that moment, the Southern Knights show up and explain to him who he is and what he does. They want him to come back home to Hookworm, Mississippi, but he doesn't believe them, and flies off into the sunset.
The remainder of the Southern Knights become very depressed and stop saving people, and Kristin especially begins to act out. She starts dressing in Daisy Dukes and wet t-shirts, and hangs out in bars trying to pick up men by dancing in irresistably sexy ways. When Larry arrives in the bar, they hook up and live unhappily ever after.
The End
Dragon has changed into his human guise, Mark Dagon, in order to go shopping for party supplies for the Southern Knights celebration that night. They are celebrating getting out of Atlanta. Their new location will be Hookworm, Mississippi, and they are planning to leave the next day.
While he is in the 7-11, a crazy but beautiful (in a slutty way) woman comes in with a big gun, looking for her ex-boyfriend. She sees Mark and thinks he's the boyfriend and shoots him three times in the back. When he falls down, she sees he's not the boyfriend, and she drags his unconscious body out to her car and drives him back to her dumpy, run-down shack out in the rural outskirts of Atlanta.
He is not quite dead, and she nurses him for a month until he regains consciousness. He has amnesia and doesn't remember he is really a dragon. She has fallen in love with him while he was unconscious, and he becomes her current boyfriend. She convinces him he used to help her rob convenience stores, and they eventually go out to rob one.
Meanwhile back at the ... lair of the Southern Knights, when Dragon never shows up, they go looking for him, but can't find him. They decide he has left the gang because he didn't really want to leave Atlanta, so they go on to Hookworm without him. But about six months later, they see security camera pictures of him robbing a 7-11 in Atlanta with his girlfriend ("Do you know either of these people? Call this number to tip off the police."), and they recognize him and go back to Atlanta to rescue him from this life of crime.
The ex-boyfriend also sees the pics and recognizes the ex-girlfriend, and he knows where to find her. So he goes to her shanty to try to rescue her from this life of crime. He is not the horrible monster you might have thought, but rather just a bumbling idiot. (Perfect part for Larry the cable guy.)
When Larry arrives at the shack, he manages to make Mark really mad, and he changes into Dragon unexpectedly. Dragon is horrified and thinks he has become a monster, and he goes off to find a bridge to jump from. Unfortunately, he can fly, so he isn't hurt by jumping.
At that moment, the Southern Knights show up and explain to him who he is and what he does. They want him to come back home to Hookworm, Mississippi, but he doesn't believe them, and flies off into the sunset.
The remainder of the Southern Knights become very depressed and stop saving people, and Kristin especially begins to act out. She starts dressing in Daisy Dukes and wet t-shirts, and hangs out in bars trying to pick up men by dancing in irresistably sexy ways. When Larry arrives in the bar, they hook up and live unhappily ever after.
The End
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
