Podcasts about no tv

It's been a long week for Cam. He's going to get paid one hundred dollars for two days of work that he is required by law to perform. He didn't enjoy it but it wasn't because of the low pay. ------ In grade school I never wanted to be the one to pick teams. I was afraid of hurting someone's feelings. It's ridiculous, I know. I like to get along. I like to see people succeed. I've never wanted to be the arbiter of someone's else's happiness. That responsibility scares me. Monday morning, I was selected as a jury member for a federal trial. It was my first time doing this. I was one of eleven others who would decide the fate of the parties in front of me. And I was nervous. The judge told us that while his title was judge, we were being asked to be “judges of the truth.” I know myself and my flaws all too well. Amongst other things, I can be terribly gullible. I'm not sure I'm qualified to be a judge of the truth. However, by nine o'clock Monday morning, my fellow jurors and I were evaluating arguments. What I saw didn't help me become less nervous. The solemnity of the proceedings can most closely be related to a religious service. Lots of quiet. Lots of honorifics amongst staff and colleagues. Lots of silence as the parties gathered to whisper, like priests at an altar. Whenever my jury colleagues and I entered or exited the courtroom, everyone stood. It all signaled that this was serious stuff. And as the details of the case became clear, I realized that we, the jury, would render a decision that could eventually lead to the ruin of either of these parties. Desperation appears in the courtroom. To get a win, both parties will bring up things from each other's past that are deeply regrettable but clearly documented. Anything a witness had hoped was lost to time is now back, being wagged in front of the jury, attorneys painfully drawing out the story and the explanation. People at their weakest. If the judge felt the content was prudent, it was discussed. If not, he firmly shut it down. Embarrassment and shame were left out of his decision to let the content be aired or not. No one was berated but the questioning was, well, very thorough. Fortunately for us the decision was an easy one and the jury was of one mind shortly after we began deliberating. Neither plaintiff nor defendant appeared surprised. We were thanked and dismissed. I don't know what happened after that. Both parties stood as we walked out. No TV like celebrations or hugs and kisses between the victorious attorneys and their client. It was simply over. In a few weeks I'm to receive payment of one hundred dollars for two days of my time and a decision that may well lead to ruin of the losing party. I did my service. I had to. I would have broken the law had I not. The verdict was easy, thankfully. But I was uncomfortable the whole time. Doing my best to track the arguments and be a “judge of the truth.” I've seen a trial now and I can honestly say I hope I never have to be the judge of someone else's future ever again. I'm Cam Marston and I'm just Trying to Keep it Real.

DawgNation's Brandon Adams joins Andy and Randy to talk about G-Day, and UGA's chances in the tournament.

DJ Carl's Hip-Hop DJ mix drops hits from Kendrick Lamar, Doechii, Jack Harlow, BossMan Dlow, EST Gee and more! Hip Hop Music Episode 126 01. Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre & Sting - Another Part of Me 02. Latto - Brokey [V][S] 03. Skip Marley - Close 04. Doja Cat - Paint The Town Red 05. Kendrick Lamar & SZA - All The Stars 06. Black Moon - Who Got Da Props [V][V] 07. Kendrick Lamar f. Lefty Gunplay - tv off [P] 08. Jack Harlow - Hello Miss Johnson 09. Outkast - Ms. Jackson 10. Doechii - Denial is a River 11. Lojay f. Sarz & Chris Brown - Monalisa [V] 12. Tyla - Push 2 Start 13. Shantel May f. Lola Brooke - Love It Here 14. Honey Bxby - Left Eye 15. Dej Loaf f. 2 Chainz - Faded 16. BossMan Dlow - The Biggest Pt. 2 17. Jordan Adetunji f. Lil Baby - Options 18. EST Gee - The Streets 19. Roscoe Dash f. Rick Ross - Showout [V]=Voiceover [P]=Promo [S]=Shoutout *Please support DJ Mix 126 with a donation. Thank you for your tip! *Follow on Instagram *Follow on Bluesky *Connect on Linkedin *Comment on Twitter/X *Share my latest Dance Music DJ Mix

r prorevenge where You think women look better without makeup? Great, don't look at me! Lady dislikes my dog Decide we're not friends anymore? You've lost air fryer privileges. Kick my door, See what happends Blame me for the missing food, well enjoy not having any more. No TV for you My friend's bf moved out with no warning. Leaving her high and dry. I got revenge on my stepdad for selling my dead grandmothers jade pendant necklace I ruined a friend's game as revenge for something I had suspected a few years prior. Costco gas pump petty revenge A lawyer's pro revenge on a landlord Not really "revenge", more like an "eff you" to a Mom shaming her daughter in public Using my phone number for your reservation for V-Day? Not this time. Make fun of an old lady? Be ready for a haircut. Hurt my brother? You'll see what it feels like. Ex colleague stiffed me. So I dangled a carrot to get my payment Wind up the server, get what you deserve. I was on the yearbook staff in high school and used my position to take revenge on a jerk. A customer screamed at me once, so now I eat his favourite food Guy tried to scam me in Rome so I threw his scam product in an inconvenient location. Colleague made fun of me and in return i mess with his stuff for months. Old guy at the state fair yelled at a little girl for standing in front of the butter sculpture, so I took revenge for her. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

So, we’re Moody Radio. A part of Moody Bible Institute. Moody and Bible go together nicely! Evangelist D.L. Moody was an amazing man. He lived in the 19th century. It’s estimated that Moody traveled more than a million miles and addressed more than 100 million people during his evangelistic ministry. No radio. No TV. No internet. Wow! He made good use of the printing press. He wrote several books.Three of the most popular are: Secret Power, The Overcoming Life, and Prevailing Prayer. All of these have been released in a single volume and along with commentary from our friend, Dr. James Spencer, President of The D.L. Moody Center! https://www.amazon.com/Essential-Moody-Collection-Overcoming-Prevailing/dp/080074618X Donate to Moody Radio: http://moodyradio.org/donateto/morningshow/wkesSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Could you live with your phone or your TV on Christmas?

Life isn't fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty. In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family's ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I'd never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise. Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn't an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging cock. I was just your average student, A and B grades, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I'd eventually marry. When times got rough, we didn't know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn't enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions. In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it's a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn't live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters' time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible. I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart. The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized. This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we'd developed a friendship, which wasn't a bad thing. My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren't married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids' lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered. The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls' expenses, including music lessons and a piano. At Least we still had Christmas Christmas was special. We celebrated Christmas as an extended family. I'd come over early, and we'd have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. The in-laws would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we'd have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something. I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn't, so we agreed that they'd stay with me from Christmas to New Year's, and any time she could get off, we'd usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn't leave town, at least not for more than a day. Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we'd usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical. I always was given the girl's wish list, but I'd also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn't stingy; I'd buy them all up, just to make sure I didn't miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I'd use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I'd caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn't allowed to buy. So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I'd pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they'd remain on display until just before Christmas, when I'd bring them over to Denise's in a big ceremony. The call came from Denise's mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I'd arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She'd always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She'd beat this too, I just knew it. It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife's family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life. Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other's arms and cried like children. We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I'm not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster. At 4:18 pm on December 7th, she passed away. No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn't. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence. I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living. I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let's be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn't have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were “sorry for my loss”. The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off. Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They'd bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they'd spent the minimum time required socially by the situation. Denise's family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn't bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect. "Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he's down. Well, fuck You too." I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn't take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all. Fourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn't turn on any lights. No TV. I didn't bathe, I didn't shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed. I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I'd rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn't let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she'd check in on me. I wouldn't have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn't afraid to use it. She'd open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She'd bring food, which she'd set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She'd made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast. And she'd talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening. All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in. I didn't care. It had been two weeks since the accident. I'd lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn't let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life. Then one day she let me have it with both barrels. She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. "Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn't fair, but as bad as you have it, there's always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it." "What do you know about it?" I snapped viciously. "I notice your kids are alive." "I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That's what I know. Life is hard." "Life is hard. Life's a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I'll kill something," I growled. "Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they're gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you've got it, I'd remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well," Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands. The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn't she see I didn't want her help? "Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it's a tough world. Boo hoo." "You don't have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don't like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living." Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse. I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris's on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean? I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy's own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn't know much about the family - I just knew there was one. When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room. "Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don't we go out on the porch?" "The Morrisons. Tell me about them." She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front. Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. "The Morrisons?" "Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won't see much of her; she's working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They're still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won't pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She's been trying to sell the house, but it's underwater, and nobody's buying." "How's the little one?" "Erica's not doing so well. She's seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school's talking about holding her back," Cathy explained. She sounded sad. "Do we know anything more about why he did it?" "No crimes, he wasn't fired, no embezzling, it's not clear what it was about. Apparently he'd been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know." "Harsh on the family, going out like that," I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp. "To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle." "And how does this all matter to me?" I asked. "It doesn't. It doesn't have to matter to anybody. They're on their own. Alone." "No family help?" "Not that I know of. If they're around, we don't see much of them, that's for sure." "Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?" I had to ask. "People just like to talk to me. I'm a very good listener," she told me with a big smile. We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks. "You're a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks," I said softly. "That's what neighbors are for," she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm. That's what neighbors are for. Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter. "Let's go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs." It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything. It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison's place. The "For Sale" sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn't help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn't earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white. Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn't speak again until the end of the block. "Sad," was all she said. We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons. I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired. We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She'd not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn't fair. I guess I still wasn't ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don't cry. Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer. December 22nd. Just three days until Christmas. When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready. "You're up early," she commented, helping herself to the java. "It's almost 10," I reminded her. "Not so awfully early." She laughed. "Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?" I nodded. "Thought I'd head over to the Morrison's and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they're really planning on selling it." "That's mighty neighborly of you." "It'll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house." After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn't notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break. I'd finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had. "I guess we victims of fate need to stick together." "It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate." "It figures you would." "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked. "It just doesn't surprise me. I bet you've been helping out when you could." She sighed. "Not too much. She's too damn proud. Doesn't want any help from anybody." I shook my head. "Now you tell me. She'll probably call the police on me." "So what if she does? You know you're doing the right thing. I'll bail you out if need be." I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home. The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I'd be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4. I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap. "Just thought I'd fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don't mind." She just shook her head. She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn't be talking to me. I should probably leave. "I'm just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother's home." I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. "I'm Alex Reed. I live across the alley," I explained, pointing down a few houses. She nodded. She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora's. Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora. Gone. It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn't breath. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn't have to see me lose it. She'd suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there. I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again. I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself. "Erica! You know your mother doesn't want you out if she's not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he's just tired. Go on now." Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. "C'mon Alex, not here. Let's get you home." I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "I'll be alright. Just give me a minute." I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. "I'm Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I'm fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together." "Alright. I'll help." It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4's and reattached the two panels. Cathy's help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better. "I'm going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It's about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don't you come with me?" "I don't know if I should. Sandy doesn't know me. She may not want me in her house when she's not there." "Never mind that. She'll be fine. Just come in a moment. It'll only take a few minutes." I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn't even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories. "Where can I wash my hands?" I asked Cathy. She pointed to a door. "In there." I headed to the bathroom. "Don't use the toilet. That one doesn't flush anymore." I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine. "Fixed. The chain was just off." Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn't cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn't be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore. I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door. "Cathy? I'm going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately." "Go ahead. Sandy won't be home until late, and if we're going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta." Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn't have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner's association. "What color paint do you think I should use?" I asked Cathy. "Let's ask Erica." She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. "We're going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?" We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch. I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it. Christmas trees shouldn't look like that. They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer's glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can't even get near the tree. It was the first year I didn't have a tree. We'd normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we'd decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We'd spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn't work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all day affair. Not this year. Not ever again. I realized I'd stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood. "Would you like to help?" I asked. She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her. "Yes, you." She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. "You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks." She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job. "That's perfect. Just like that." I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over. "Hey!" I said in mock outrage. "You're doing that on purpose!" When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle. "When you're done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won't be in your way." Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges. I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim. "Not bad," I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I'd lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself. "Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?" I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice. I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine. We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. "The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica." Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV. "Ready to call it a day?" Cathy asked. "Yeah. Best get while the getting is good." I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I'd ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn't count for much. Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I'd just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else's house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile. Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn't been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good. I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they'd be there for me if I needed anything. I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I. I picked up the phone and dialed Denise's family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we'd spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we'd remained friendly, and I was glad that we'd had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I'd stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of. My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He'd left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives. The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn't have to face him. "Steve, Alex here. I'm sorry I..." "Alex, I'm here, don't hang up, I'm here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on." I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. "Jesus, Alex. You're killing me." "Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn't listen to one more well-wisher." "I understand." He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He'd been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around. Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We'd been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were. Steven understood. I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted. "What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?" As much as I'd love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. "No. Stay with your family. I'm doing better, and if I need to I can call." "Of course." "I also wanted to say I was sorry." "Sorry?" "Sorry that I couldn't do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn't comprehend what you were going through." "Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I'll never forget that. Enough said. Don't need to be getting sappy over it." I couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright. By the way, there's one other thing you might be able to do for me." "Anything. That's what friend are for." That's what friends are for. The pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn't. I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was. I opened the door. "Mrs. Morrison?" She glared at me and nodded. "Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?" I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room. She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing. "I don't want you around my house or my daughter," she finally snapped. "I understand, and I'm sorry I interfered." I walked past her and sat down in the living room. "I can't explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away." She stared at me, and crossed her arms. "Don't mention her name. I could kill her." I smiled. "Believe me, I understand that. She's been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life." "Meddling is right," she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. "Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I'm sorry for your loss." She smirked. "Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap." She leaned back. "We're doing fine. I don't need your help, I don't know you from Adam, and I don't want you around my daughter when nobody's around. Jesus, you painted my frickin' front door blue! A little presumptuous, don't you think?" I smiled. "I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica's choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner's association." She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. "Don't remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I'll rip their lungs out." She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. "I know. I should be thankful but I don't need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me." "I didn't do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don't know me. I don't know you. Agreed. I don't know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn't deserve the hand she's been dealt. That's all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could." She looked angry. "I'm sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is MINE. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours." "You are right. She's no responsibility of mine." "That's right. I don't know you. We live three doors down and in two years you've never spoken a word to us. Six months we've been on our own. I certainly don't need you poking your head in now. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and I'm not sure I'd like you if I did." "Welcome to the club." "Club?" "I'm not sure I like me either. I'm sorry, alright? Now I'm tired. You can let yourself out." She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her. That had gone better than I'd expected. December 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast. "At least neither of us is in jail," were her first words. "Not yet." "You did a good thing. Don't forget it." "I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission." "The hell we should! She'd never have given it." "Then maybe we should leave her be." "If a person was drowning, and they couldn't yell for help, wouldn't you still throw them a life preserver?" "A little overly-dramatic, don't you think?" "No. She's going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late." She looked me over. "You clean up nicely. What are you up to?" "I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff." "Don't overdue it," she said, still in her 'caring' mode. "Need some company?" "Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this." "Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything." The office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there. I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness' the last couple of weeks to the plant's spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I'd done my part. I stopped by Denise's parent's house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she'd soaked my shirt she brought me in. "There's something you need to know, Alex." She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up. "Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion's share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her." I was stunned. It was so unexpected. "I... I don't know what to say." Sharon reached out and patted my hand. "It's not what I'd expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?" "I guess I'll sell the house. I certainly don't need two houses." "She had mortgage insurance, it'll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it." It was too much too fast. I couldn't think straight. "I'll have to think about it. I just wasn't expecting anything like this." "I understand." She held my hand. "How are you doing?" "Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed." "We're here if you need us. You know that, right?" "Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage." "We love you too. Don't forget it." "I'm sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don't think I could have handled it without you," I confessed. "Don't even think about it. That's what family is for." That's what family is for. My day wasn't quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn't sure I should, but I couldn't resist. Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy's husband John answered the door. "The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about." He shook my hand, letting me in. "Cath - Alex is here." Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "How'd your day go?" "Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived." "We're about to eat. Care to sit down with us?" "Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?" "Probably nine-ish, would be my guess. Why?" "Just want to talk to her if I can." "You have time for dinner then?" "Sure." By 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team's chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison's driveway. When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley. "Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?" She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows. "Again, I'm sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn't really thinking straight." She rolled her eyes. "Anything else?" "Yes. I know you told me you didn't need my help, but there's someone I'd like you speak to. I have a friend that's a lawyer, and he's willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he's suffered a few losses in life, and he'd like to help you if he can. If you'd just give him a call, he'll see what he can do." I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. "It'll only take a couple of minutes. It can't hurt." She finally nodded and took the card from me. "Is that it?" "One last thing. I'm headed over to my ex-wife's house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It's my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it's one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don't mind, and it's not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it's going to the dump." I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me. She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. "Alright. That would be nice. Now if that's all, I'd like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow." "That's all. You can call Steve tonight if you'd like, he's a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night." I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything. I had recruited Cathy's help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door. Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I'd put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive'. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake. We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn't all that fond of the 'all-white' look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time. The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I'd rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me. Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison's decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house. "You ladies have done an incredible job!" I announced, standing in the doorway. Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. "Let's finish up quick. I have to get home; John's going to kill me." I'd promised her we'd be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home. Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five. "This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica." She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug. "Thank you," she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs. I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn't be sure. By eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn't shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn't belong. I didn't care. I felt good, the best I'd felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas. I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I'd promised, when I got a call from Steve. "Hey-ho, Stevorino." "Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole." "Merry fuckin' Christmas to you too." I teased. I heard him chuckle. "Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor." "How's that?" I asked, suddenly interested. "The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don't have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It's not a lot, less than $300K, but she'll be getting her check next week." "Steve, you're the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you." "Shit, they're probably true. If anybody would know, it'd be you." "All kidding aside. You're a life saver." I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" "That's right. And I couldn't ask for a better one." "Ditto. Asshole." "Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I'll give you a call next week." "You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don't get any ideas." "Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I'll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?" "Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I'll make you keep her and the credit card bills." "Ouch. You win," I had to laugh. "Thanks again." "Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy." "You too." To be continued in part 2, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales for Literotica 

Life isn't fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty. In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family's ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I'd never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise. Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn't an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging cock. I was just your average student, A and B grades, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I'd eventually marry. When times got rough, we didn't know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn't enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions. In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it's a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn't live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters' time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible. I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart. The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized. This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we'd developed a friendship, which wasn't a bad thing. My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren't married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids' lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered. The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls' expenses, including music lessons and a piano. At Least we still had Christmas Christmas was special. We celebrated Christmas as an extended family. I'd come over early, and we'd have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. The in-laws would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we'd have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something. I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn't, so we agreed that they'd stay with me from Christmas to New Year's, and any time she could get off, we'd usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn't leave town, at least not for more than a day. Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we'd usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical. I always was given the girl's wish list, but I'd also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn't stingy; I'd buy them all up, just to make sure I didn't miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I'd use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I'd caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn't allowed to buy. So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I'd pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they'd remain on display until just before Christmas, when I'd bring them over to Denise's in a big ceremony. The call came from Denise's mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I'd arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She'd always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She'd beat this too, I just knew it. It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife's family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life. Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other's arms and cried like children. We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I'm not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster. At 4:18 pm on December 7th, she passed away. No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn't. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence. I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living. I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let's be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn't have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were “sorry for my loss”. The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off. Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They'd bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they'd spent the minimum time required socially by the situation. Denise's family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn't bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect. "Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he's down. Well, fuck You too." I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn't take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all. Fourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn't turn on any lights. No TV. I didn't bathe, I didn't shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed. I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I'd rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn't let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she'd check in on me. I wouldn't have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn't afraid to use it. She'd open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She'd bring food, which she'd set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She'd made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast. And she'd talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening. All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in. I didn't care. It had been two weeks since the accident. I'd lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn't let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life. Then one day she let me have it with both barrels. She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. "Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn't fair, but as bad as you have it, there's always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it." "What do you know about it?" I snapped viciously. "I notice your kids are alive." "I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That's what I know. Life is hard." "Life is hard. Life's a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I'll kill something," I growled. "Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they're gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you've got it, I'd remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well," Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands. The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn't she see I didn't want her help? "Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it's a tough world. Boo hoo." "You don't have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don't like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living." Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse. I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris's on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean? I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy's own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn't know much about the family - I just knew there was one. When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room. "Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don't we go out on the porch?" "The Morrisons. Tell me about them." She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front. Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. "The Morrisons?" "Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won't see much of her; she's working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They're still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won't pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She's been trying to sell the house, but it's underwater, and nobody's buying." "How's the little one?" "Erica's not doing so well. She's seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school's talking about holding her back," Cathy explained. She sounded sad. "Do we know anything more about why he did it?" "No crimes, he wasn't fired, no embezzling, it's not clear what it was about. Apparently he'd been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know." "Harsh on the family, going out like that," I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp. "To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle." "And how does this all matter to me?" I asked. "It doesn't. It doesn't have to matter to anybody. They're on their own. Alone." "No family help?" "Not that I know of. If they're around, we don't see much of them, that's for sure." "Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?" I had to ask. "People just like to talk to me. I'm a very good listener," she told me with a big smile. We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks. "You're a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks," I said softly. "That's what neighbors are for," she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm. That's what neighbors are for. Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter. "Let's go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs." It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything. It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison's place. The "For Sale" sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn't help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn't earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white. Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn't speak again until the end of the block. "Sad," was all she said. We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons. I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired. We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She'd not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn't fair. I guess I still wasn't ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don't cry. Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer. December 22nd. Just three days until Christmas. When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready. "You're up early," she commented, helping herself to the java. "It's almost 10," I reminded her. "Not so awfully early." She laughed. "Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?" I nodded. "Thought I'd head over to the Morrison's and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they're really planning on selling it." "That's mighty neighborly of you." "It'll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house." After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn't notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break. I'd finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had. "I guess we victims of fate need to stick together." "It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate." "It figures you would." "What is that supposed to mean?" she asked. "It just doesn't surprise me. I bet you've been helping out when you could." She sighed. "Not too much. She's too damn proud. Doesn't want any help from anybody." I shook my head. "Now you tell me. She'll probably call the police on me." "So what if she does? You know you're doing the right thing. I'll bail you out if need be." I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home. The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I'd be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4. I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap. "Just thought I'd fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don't mind." She just shook her head. She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn't be talking to me. I should probably leave. "I'm just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother's home." I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. "I'm Alex Reed. I live across the alley," I explained, pointing down a few houses. She nodded. She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora's. Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora. Gone. It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn't breath. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn't have to see me lose it. She'd suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there. I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again. I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself. "Erica! You know your mother doesn't want you out if she's not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he's just tired. Go on now." Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. "C'mon Alex, not here. Let's get you home." I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. "I'll be alright. Just give me a minute." I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. "I'm Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I'm fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together." "Alright. I'll help." It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4's and reattached the two panels. Cathy's help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better. "I'm going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It's about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don't you come with me?" "I don't know if I should. Sandy doesn't know me. She may not want me in her house when she's not there." "Never mind that. She'll be fine. Just come in a moment. It'll only take a few minutes." I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn't even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories. "Where can I wash my hands?" I asked Cathy. She pointed to a door. "In there." I headed to the bathroom. "Don't use the toilet. That one doesn't flush anymore." I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine. "Fixed. The chain was just off." Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn't cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn't be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore. I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door. "Cathy? I'm going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately." "Go ahead. Sandy won't be home until late, and if we're going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta." Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn't have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner's association. "What color paint do you think I should use?" I asked Cathy. "Let's ask Erica." She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. "We're going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?" We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch. I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it. Christmas trees shouldn't look like that. They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer's glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can't even get near the tree. It was the first year I didn't have a tree. We'd normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we'd decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We'd spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn't work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all day affair. Not this year. Not ever again. I realized I'd stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood. "Would you like to help?" I asked. She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her. "Yes, you." She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. "You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks." She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job. "That's perfect. Just like that." I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over. "Hey!" I said in mock outrage. "You're doing that on purpose!" When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle. "When you're done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won't be in your way." Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges. I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim. "Not bad," I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I'd lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself. "Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?" I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice. I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine. We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. "The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica." Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV. "Ready to call it a day?" Cathy asked. "Yeah. Best get while the getting is good." I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I'd ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn't count for much. Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I'd just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else's house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile. Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn't been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good. I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they'd be there for me if I needed anything. I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I. I picked up the phone and dialed Denise's family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we'd spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we'd remained friendly, and I was glad that we'd had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I'd stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of. My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He'd left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives. The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn't have to face him. "Steve, Alex here. I'm sorry I..." "Alex, I'm here, don't hang up, I'm here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on." I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. "Jesus, Alex. You're killing me." "Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn't listen to one more well-wisher." "I understand." He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He'd been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around. Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We'd been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were. Steven understood. I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted. "What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?" As much as I'd love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. "No. Stay with your family. I'm doing better, and if I need to I can call." "Of course." "I also wanted to say I was sorry." "Sorry?" "Sorry that I couldn't do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn't comprehend what you were going through." "Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I'll never forget that. Enough said. Don't need to be getting sappy over it." I couldn't help but chuckle. "Alright. By the way, there's one other thing you might be able to do for me." "Anything. That's what friend are for." That's what friends are for. The pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn't. I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was. I opened the door. "Mrs. Morrison?" She glared at me and nodded. "Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?" I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room. She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing. "I don't want you around my house or my daughter," she finally snapped. "I understand, and I'm sorry I interfered." I walked past her and sat down in the living room. "I can't explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away." She stared at me, and crossed her arms. "Don't mention her name. I could kill her." I smiled. "Believe me, I understand that. She's been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life." "Meddling is right," she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. "Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I'm sorry for your loss." She smirked. "Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap." She leaned back. "We're doing fine. I don't need your help, I don't know you from Adam, and I don't want you around my daughter when nobody's around. Jesus, you painted my frickin' front door blue! A little presumptuous, don't you think?" I smiled. "I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica's choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner's association." She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. "Don't remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I'll rip their lungs out." She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. "I know. I should be thankful but I don't need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me." "I didn't do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don't know me. I don't know you. Agreed. I don't know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn't deserve the hand she's been dealt. That's all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could." She looked angry. "I'm sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is MINE. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours." "You are right. She's no responsibility of mine." "That's right. I don't know you. We live three doors down and in two years you've never spoken a word to us. Six months we've been on our own. I certainly don't need you poking your head in now. I don't know you, I don't want to know you, and I'm not sure I'd like you if I did." "Welcome to the club." "Club?" "I'm not sure I like me either. I'm sorry, alright? Now I'm tired. You can let yourself out." She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her. That had gone better than I'd expected. December 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast. "At least neither of us is in jail," were her first words. "Not yet." "You did a good thing. Don't forget it." "I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission." "The hell we should! She'd never have given it." "Then maybe we should leave her be." "If a person was drowning, and they couldn't yell for help, wouldn't you still throw them a life preserver?" "A little overly-dramatic, don't you think?" "No. She's going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late." She looked me over. "You clean up nicely. What are you up to?" "I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff." "Don't overdue it," she said, still in her 'caring' mode. "Need some company?" "Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this." "Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything." The office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there. I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness' the last couple of weeks to the plant's spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I'd done my part. I stopped by Denise's parent's house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she'd soaked my shirt she brought me in. "There's something you need to know, Alex." She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up. "Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion's share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her." I was stunned. It was so unexpected. "I... I don't know what to say." Sharon reached out and patted my hand. "It's not what I'd expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?" "I guess I'll sell the house. I certainly don't need two houses." "She had mortgage insurance, it'll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it." It was too much too fast. I couldn't think straight. "I'll have to think about it. I just wasn't expecting anything like this." "I understand." She held my hand. "How are you doing?" "Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed." "We're here if you need us. You know that, right?" "Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage." "We love you too. Don't forget it." "I'm sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don't think I could have handled it without you," I confessed. "Don't even think about it. That's what family is for." That's what family is for. My day wasn't quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn't sure I should, but I couldn't resist. Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy's husband John answered the door. "The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about." He shook my hand, letting me in. "Cath - Alex is here." Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. "How'd your day go?" "Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived." "We're about to eat. Care to sit down with us?" "Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?" "Probably nine-ish, would be my guess. Why?" "Just want to talk to her if I can." "You have time for dinner then?" "Sure." By 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team's chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison's driveway. When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley. "Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?" She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows. "Again, I'm sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn't really thinking straight." She rolled her eyes. "Anything else?" "Yes. I know you told me you didn't need my help, but there's someone I'd like you speak to. I have a friend that's a lawyer, and he's willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he's suffered a few losses in life, and he'd like to help you if he can. If you'd just give him a call, he'll see what he can do." I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. "It'll only take a couple of minutes. It can't hurt." She finally nodded and took the card from me. "Is that it?" "One last thing. I'm headed over to my ex-wife's house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It's my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it's one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don't mind, and it's not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it's going to the dump." I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me. She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. "Alright. That would be nice. Now if that's all, I'd like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow." "That's all. You can call Steve tonight if you'd like, he's a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night." I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything. I had recruited Cathy's help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door. Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I'd put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive'. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake. We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn't all that fond of the 'all-white' look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time. The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I'd rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me. Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison's decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house. "You ladies have done an incredible job!" I announced, standing in the doorway. Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. "Let's finish up quick. I have to get home; John's going to kill me." I'd promised her we'd be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home. Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five. "This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica." She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug. "Thank you," she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs. I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn't be sure. By eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn't shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn't belong. I didn't care. I felt good, the best I'd felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas. I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I'd promised, when I got a call from Steve. "Hey-ho, Stevorino." "Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole." "Merry fuckin' Christmas to you too." I teased. I heard him chuckle. "Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor." "How's that?" I asked, suddenly interested. "The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don't have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It's not a lot, less than $300K, but she'll be getting her check next week." "Steve, you're the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you." "Shit, they're probably true. If anybody would know, it'd be you." "All kidding aside. You're a life saver." I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. "Hey, that's what friends are for, right?" "That's right. And I couldn't ask for a better one." "Ditto. Asshole." "Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I'll give you a call next week." "You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don't get any ideas." "Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I'll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?" "Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I'll make you keep her and the credit card bills." "Ouch. You win," I had to laugh. "Thanks again." "Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy." "You too." To be continued in part 2, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales for Literotica 

Lessons from the 2024 No TV Week Fasting and Prayer

Lessons from the September 2024 No TV Week Prayer and Fasting

For the past month you've been studying for your Chinese test. Now you just want to relax in the warm glow of Mother Television. But what's this? Your real mother has other plans! Go study some more Mandarin! You have a test coming up soon! Learn how to tell your kids to study harder in Chinese. Episode link: https://www.chinesepod.com/1201

Anthony Sperduti and his brother Luigi have a production company LOST IN THE DARK PRODUCTION (http://www.lostinthedarkproductions.com/) Check out a few of her short films on YouTube: Clown (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bCLtX6i9rSQ) Cold (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kJHOfSZ2vE) We run a Horror Movie Draft picks for this one here are the rules we played by so if you want to play along or adapt this for your own game go for it: Any Horror Movie can be picked by any person for any category. Movies only. No TV shows, no Halloween Specials. Once a Horror Movie or actor(tress) or other element of a particular Horror movie has been picked in a specific category, it and all related sequels are off the table in that category. All films reset after each Round, so those who have been picked can be picked again in the new Round. The order of picking goes by random drawing for the first category, then whoever went first in the first category goes second in the next category, and the person who went last in the first category gets to go first in the second category and this continues until all categories have been selected. 1. Round time limits: 1. Round One - 60 sec 1. Round Two - 90 sec 1. Round Three - 120 sec Gratuitous Sound Clips (there's a lot….) * The Twilight Zone Opening (Instrumental) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0oQsTs_K7s) * Halloween Theme (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT4FY3NrhGg) * The Exorcist theme (HD) (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hj83ugShbic&t=28s) * The Silence of the Lambs (3/12) Movie CLIP - Fava Beans and a Nice Chianti (1991) HD (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99Ptctl5_qQ) * The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) - Ending (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2iIkO2Yntsg) * Jaws: The U.S.S. Indianapolis Speech (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xO60RohuARY) * Psycho | "We All Go a Little Mad Sometimes" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-EwNHerlko) * Why Norman Bates would'nt hurt a fly… (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-B0ad62tlAQ) * The Fly (1986) - Insect Politics (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSRdIRv4eIo) * Dragnet - Virgin Connie Swail (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVGhbkcqBjA)

Jobber tears Podcast "No Tv " by The Jobber Tears Podcast Network

Rob and Lach rate and discuss doing a burnout, sharing tea bags, repechage events, MSN messenger, torrenting, kimchi, no TV households, living in the city, driving one handed + crying in public. Get 15% OFF SXSW Sydney Badges using our code here. Apply to join our 'MOVE' Founder Program here. Subscribe to our Dream Big Social Club NEWSLETTER to stay up to date with all things Funny Business + more ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠https://dreambigsocialclub.beehiiv.com/subscribe⁠⁠⁠⁠ Web ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://linktr.ee/funnybusinesspodcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Instagram ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://www.instagram.com/funnybusiness_au/⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ LinkedIn ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Lach⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ / ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Rob⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ CONTACT ME (Lach) ~ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠lach@dreambigsocialclub.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠

In this episode, LJ and JHen discuss the upcoming Hustler event featuring Lisa Ann, the crazy political scene, if you need a TV in the room to fall asleep, and living in a virtual world. New T-shirts and other merchandise are dropping soon! Listen to the episode for more details!

Tuesday's “What's Buggin' You” segment on the Bob Rose Show 7-16-24

Ben Maller & Danny G. have Mail Bag fun for your Sunday! All questions sent in by new listeners & P1's of the #MallerMilitia! Download, subscribe, and remember that sharing is caring (unless it's an STD.) Follow Danny G. @DannyGradio and Ben on Twitter @BenMaller and listen to the original terrestrial radio edition of "Ben Maller Show," Monday-Friday on Fox Sports Radio, 2a-6a ET, 11p-3a PT! ...Follow, rate & review "The Fifth Hour!" https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-fifth-hour-with-ben-maller/id1478163837 #BenMallerSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

#DateEmOrDumpEm The One with No TV's + JP Makes Us Guess Top 10 Chain Restaurants, Adult birthday party ideas, a "Jarring Divorce" & More!

Now that all five major TV makers have shown off their 2024 flagship TVs, it's time to talk about which TVs we believe are in the running for best TV of 2024. Will OLED win the day or will it finally be toppled by a Mini LED TV? Ultimately, no TV is perfect for all content in every environment. But the key is to pick the best TV for your specific needs.We chat with Caleb Denison, Editor-at-Large for Digital Trends to compare notes on which new TVs from Sony, Hisense, TCL, LG and Samsung are most likely to earn the top marks overall and which factors, including black level performance, brightness, contrast, color reproduction, bright room performance and - of course - SIZE - go into the decision of which TV to buy in 2024.*** Thank you to our home theater loving sponsor Q Acoustics at https://www.qacoustics.com ***Watch the video version of this podcast on YouTube: https://youtu.be/JjlmdqMtWJQWatch all of Caleb's videos at: https://www.youtube.com/digitaltrendsOn the panel:Caleb Denison, Digital Trends Editor-at-LargeBrian Mitchell, eCoustics Founder & CEOChris Boylan, eCoustics Editor-at-LargeRelated links:https://www.ecoustics.com/podcasts/sony-2024/https://www.ecoustics.com/products/sony-bravia-tvs-soundbars-2024/https://www.ecoustics.com/products/tcl-qd-mini-led-tv-2024/https://www.ecoustics.com/products/samsung-tvs-2024/https://www.ecoustics.com/products/lg-oled-tvs-2024/https://www.ecoustics.com/products/hisense-u9n-tv-2024/Credits:Original intro music by The Arc of All. https://sourceoflightandpower.bandcamp.comVoice Over Provided by Todd Harrell of SSP Unlimited. https://sspunlimited.comProduction by Mitch Anderson, Black Circle Studios. https://blackcircleradio.comKeep up-to-date with all the latest Hi-Fi, Headphone, Home Theater and Music news by visiting: https://www.ecoustics.com#digitaltrends #calebdenison #miniled #oled #tv #4ktv #ecoustics #sony #samsung #lg #tcl #hisense #hometheater #hdr #uhd #4k #8k

Episode Notes:  ~The overall goal of parenting is to bring up a biblically and morally responsible child.~  Despite popular opinion, the teenage years can actually be a joy. When you discipline, teach and coach, you can actually enjoy the teenage years.  You may feel like you're losing your kids for a time while they are navigating more toward their peers, and finding their own identity but trust they will navigate back and be human again.  Teenage drama is normal.  Your family can either be interdependent or independent. Family identity and interdependence is a huge deterrents for teenage rebellion. Do your utmost to build a family identity in the early years.  Some examples: • Have a family night sacred to your own family (you can have other nights when friends are allowed) • No TV's in bedrooms – watch together as a family • Commit to family vacations for your family only • Camp together to establish family togetherness • Establish an identity – “this is what the ________'s do” • The more your kids feel they belong in your family, the less they will look for belonging outside of it • Make your home a haven for your kids  Remember that the teenage years are scary for teens as they navigate their emotions and changes of feelings. Be approachable in those times.  Social media gives your kids a constant intake of drama and chaos. Don't be fearful of setting aside that influence for a time and bringing your family together.  Remember that you need others who can be a godly influence on your kids. Take advantage of bringing other godly people into their lives. Sunnybrook's kids and student ministry are a great resource for that. Discussion Questions: 1. Family identity and interdependence is a huge deterrents for teenage rebellion Based on what you heard in the podcast, what can you intentionally do now to build a strong family identity for your family? 2. If you have a teenager at home, what issues are most challenging for them right now? For you? 3. What can you do to be more approachable for your child? 4. Discuss together how you might encourage one another in parenting through challenging times.

#DateEmOrDumpEm The One with No TV's + JP Makes Us Guess Basketball Movies, Why Coryelle should or shouldn't go on a cruise, Bracket advice & More!

#DateEmOrDumpEm The One with No TV's

Life isn’t fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty.In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family’s ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I’d never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise.Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn’t an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging cock. I was just your average student, A and B grades, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I’d eventually marry.When times got rough, we didn’t know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn’t enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions.In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn’t live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters’ time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible.I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart.The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized.This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we’d developed a friendship, which wasn’t a bad thing.My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren’t married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids’ lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered.The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls’ expenses, including music lessons and a piano.At Least we still had ChristmasChristmas was special. We celebrated Christmas as an extended family. I’d come over early, and we’d have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. The in-laws would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we’d have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something.I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn’t, so we agreed that they’d stay with me from Christmas to New Year’s, and any time she could get off, we’d usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn’t leave town, at least not for more than a day.Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we’d usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical.I always was given the girl’s wish list, but I’d also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn’t stingy; I’d buy them all up, just to make sure I didn’t miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I’d use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I’d caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn’t allowed to buy.So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I’d pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they’d remain on display until just before Christmas, when I’d bring them over to Denise’s in a big ceremony.The call came from Denise’s mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I’d arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She’d always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She’d beat this too, I just knew it.It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife’s family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life.Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other’s arms and cried like children.We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I’m not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster.At 4:18 pm on December 7th she passed away.No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn’t. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence.I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living.I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let’s be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn’t have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were “sorry for my loss”. The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off.Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They’d bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they’d spent the minimum time required socially by the situation.Denise’s family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn’t bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect.“Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he’s down. Well, fuck You too.”I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn’t take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all.The Valley of the shadow of deathFourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn’t turn on any lights. No TV. I didn’t bathe, I didn’t shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed.I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I’d rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn’t let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she’d check in on me. I wouldn’t have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn’t afraid to use it.She’d open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She’d bring food, which she’d set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She’d made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast.And she’d talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening.All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in.I didn’t care.Cathy Has A New TherapyIt had been two weeks since the accident. I’d lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn’t let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life.Then one day she let me have it with both barrels.She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. “Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn’t fair, but as bad as you have it, there’s always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it.”“What do you know about it?” I snapped viciously. “I notice your kids are alive.”“I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That’s what I know. Life is hard.”“Life is hard. Life’s a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I’ll kill something,” I growled.“Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they’re gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you’ve got it, I’d remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well,” Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands.The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn’t she see I didn’t want her help?“Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it’s a tough world. Boo hoo.”“You don’t have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don’t like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living.”Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse.I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris’s on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean?I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy’s own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn’t know much about the family - I just knew there was one.When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room.The Morrison Prescription“Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don’t we go out on the porch?”“The Morrisons. Tell me about them.”She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front.Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. “The Morrisons?”“Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won’t see much of her; she’s working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They’re still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won’t pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She’s been trying to sell the house, but it’s underwater, and nobody’s buying.”“How’s the little one?”“Erica’s not doing so well. She’s seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school’s talking about holding her back,” Cathy explained. She sounded sad.“Do we know anything more about why he did it?”“No crimes, he wasn’t fired, no embezzling, it’s not clear what it was about. Apparently he’d been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know.”“Harsh on the family, going out like that,” I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp.“To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle.”“And how does this all matter to me?” I asked.“It doesn’t. It doesn’t have to matter to anybody. They’re on their own. Alone.”“No family help?”“Not that I know of. If they’re around, we don’t see much of them, that’s for sure.”“Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?” I had to ask.“People just like to talk to me. I’m a very good listener,” she told me with a big smile.We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks.“You’re a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks,” I said softly.“That’s what neighbors are for,” she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm.That’s what neighbors are for.Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter.“Let’s go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs.”It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything.It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison’s place. The “For Sale” sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn’t help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn’t earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white.Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn’t speak again until the end of the block. “Sad,” was all she said.We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons.I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired.We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She’d not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn’t fair.I guess I still wasn’t ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don’t cry.Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer.Giving Is HealingDecember 22nd. Just three days until Christmas.When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready.“You’re up early,” she commented, helping herself to the java.“It’s almost 10,” I reminded her. “Not so awfully early.”She laughed. “Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?”I nodded. “Thought I’d head over to the Morrison’s and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they’re really planning on selling it.”“That’s mighty neighborly of you.”“It’ll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house.”After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn’t notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break.I’d finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had.“I guess we victims of fate need to stick together.”“It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate.”“It figures you would.”“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.“It just doesn’t surprise me. I bet you’ve been helping out when you could.”She sighed. “Not too much. She’s too damn proud. Doesn’t want any help from anybody.”I shook my head. “Now you tell me. She’ll probably call the police on me.”“So what if she does? You know you’re doing the right thing. I’ll bail you out if need be.”I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home.The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I’d be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4.I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap.“Just thought I’d fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don’t mind.”She just shook her head.She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn’t be talking to me. I should probably leave. “I’m just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother’s home.”I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. “I’m Alex Reed. I live across the alley,” I explained, pointing down a few houses.She nodded.She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora’s.Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora.Gone.It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn’t breathe. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn’t have to see me lose it. She’d suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there.I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again.I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself.“Erica! You know your mother doesn’t want you out if she’s not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he’s just tired. Go on now.” Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. “Come on Alex, not here. Let’s get you home.”I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. “I’ll be alright. Just give me a minute.” I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. “I’m Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I’m fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together.”“Alright. I’ll help.”It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4’s and reattached the two panels. Cathy’s help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better.“I’m going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It’s about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don’t you come with me?”“I don’t know if I should. Sandy doesn’t know me. She may not want me in her house when she’s not there.”“Never mind that. She’ll be fine. Just come in a moment. It’ll only take a few minutes.”I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn’t even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories.“Where can I wash my hands?” I asked Cathy.She pointed to a door. “In there.”I headed to the bathroom. “Don’t use the toilet. That one doesn’t flush anymore.”I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine.“Fixed. The chain was just off.”Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn’t cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn’t be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore.I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door.“Cathy? I’m going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately.”“Go ahead. Sandy won’t be home until late, and if we’re going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta.”Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn’t have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner’s association.“What color paint do you think I should use?” I asked Cathy.“Let’s ask Erica.” She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. “We’re going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?”We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch.I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it.Christmas trees shouldn’t look like that.They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer’s glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can’t even get near the tree.It was the first year I didn’t have a tree.We’d normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we’d decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We’d spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn’t work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all-day affair.Not this year. Not ever again.I realized I’d stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood.“Would you like to help?” I asked.She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her.“Yes, you.”She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. “You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks.”She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job.“That’s perfect. Just like that.” I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over.“Hey!” I said in mock outrage. “You’re doing that on purpose!”When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle.“When you’re done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won’t be in your way.”Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges.I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim.“Not bad,” I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I’d lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself.“Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?”I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice.I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine.We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. “The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica.”Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV.“Ready to call it a day?” Cathy asked.“Yeah. Best get while the getting is good.” I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I’d ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn’t count for much.Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I’d just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else’s house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile.Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn’t been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good.I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they’d be there for me if I needed anything.I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I.I picked up the phone and dialed Denise’s family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we’d spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we’d remained friendly, and I was glad that we’d had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I’d stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of.My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He’d left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives.The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn’t have to face him. “Steve, Alex here. I’m sorry I…”“Alex, I’m here, don’t hang up, I’m here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on.” I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. “Jesus, Alex. You’re killing me.”“Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn’t listen to one more well-wisher.”“I understand.”He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He’d been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around.Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We’d been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were.Steven understood.I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted.“What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?”As much as I’d love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. “No. Stay with your family. I’m doing better, and if I need to I can call.”“Of course.”“I also wanted to say I was sorry.”“Sorry?”“Sorry that I couldn’t do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn’t comprehend what you were going through.”“Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I’ll never forget that. Enough said. Don’t need to be getting sappy over it.”I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright. By the way, there’s one other thing you might be able to do for me.”“Anything. That’s what friend are for.”That’s what friends are for.Meeting The ReaperThe pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn’t.I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was.I opened the door. “Mrs. Morrison?”She glared at me and nodded.“Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?” I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room.She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing.“I don’t want you around my house or my daughter,” she finally snapped.“I understand, and I’m sorry I interfered.” I walked past her and sat down in the living room. “I can’t explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away.”She stared at me, and crossed her arms. “Don’t mention her name. I could kill her.”I smiled. “Believe me, I understand that. She’s been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life.”“Meddling is right,” she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. “Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I’m sorry for your loss.” She smirked. “Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap.”She leaned back. “We’re doing fine. I don’t need your help, I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t want you around my daughter when nobody’s around. Jesus, you painted my fricking’ front door blue! A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”I smiled. “I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica’s choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner’s association.”She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. “Don’t remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I’ll rip their lungs out.” She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. “I know. I should be thankful but I don’t need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me.”“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Agreed. I don’t know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt. That’s all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could.”She looked angry. “I’m sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is Mine. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours.”“You are right. She’s no responsibility of mine.”“That’s right. I don’t know you. We live three doors down and in two years you’ve never spoken a word to us. Six months we’ve been on our own. I certainly don’t need you poking your head in now. I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you, and I’m not sure I’d like you if I did.”“Welcome to the club.”“Club?”“I’m not sure I like me either. I’m sorry, alright? Now I’m tired. You can let yourself out.”She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her.That had gone better than I’d expected.IrrepressibleDecember 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast.“At least neither of us is in jail,” were her first words.“Not yet.”“You did a good thing. Don’t forget it.”“I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission.”“The hell we should! She’d never have given it.”“Then maybe we should leave her be.”“If a person was drowning, and they couldn’t yell for help, wouldn’t you still throw them a life preserver?”“A little overly-dramatic, don’t you think?”“No. She’s going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late.” She looked me over. “You clean up nicely. What are you up to?”“I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff.”“Don’t overdo it,” she said, still in her ‘caring’ mode. “Need some company?”“Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this.”“Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything.”Making The RoundsThe office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there.I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness’ the last couple of weeks to the plant’s spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I’d done my part.I stopped by Denise’s parent’s house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she’d soaked my shirt she brought me in.“There’s something you need to know, Alex.”She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up.“Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion’s share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her.”I was stunned. It was so unexpected. “I… I don’t know what to say.”Sharon reached out and patted my hand. “It’s not what I’d expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?”“I guess I’ll sell the house. I certainly don’t need two houses.”“She had mortgage insurance, it’ll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it.”It was too much too fast. I couldn’t think straight. “I’ll have to think about it. I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.”“I understand.” She held my hand. “How are you doing?”“Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed.”“We’re here if you need us. You know that, right?”“Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage.”“We love you too. Don’t forget it.”“I’m sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don’t think I could have handled it without you,” I confessed.“Don’t even think about it. That’s what family is for.”That’s what family is for.My day wasn’t quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn’t sure I should, but I couldn’t resist.Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy’s husband John answered the door. “The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about.” He shook my hand, letting me in. “Cath - Alex is here.”Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “How’d your day go?”“Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived.”“We’re about to eat. Care to sit down with us?”“Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?”“Probably nine-ish, would be my guess. Why?”“Just want to talk to her if I can.”“You have time for dinner then?”“Sure.”Another Confrontation With SandyBy 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team’s chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison’s driveway.When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley.“Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?”She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows.“Again, I’m sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn’t really thinking straight.”She rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”“Yes. I know you told me you didn’t need my help, but there’s someone I’d like you speak to. I have a friend that’s a lawyer, and he’s willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he’s suffered a few losses in life, and he’d like to help you if he can. If you’d just give him a call, he’ll see what he can do.”I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes. It can’t hurt.”She finally nodded and took the card from me. “Is that it?”“One last thing. I’m headed over to my ex-wife’s house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It’s my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it’s one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don’t mind, and it’s not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it’s going to the dump.” I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me.She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. “Alright. That would be nice. Now if that’s all, I’d like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow.”“That’s all. You can call Steve tonight if you’d like, he’s a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night.”I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything.Just ‘a bit' of decoratingI had recruited Cathy’s help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door.Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I’d put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive’. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake.We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn’t all that fond of the 'all-white’ look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time.The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I’d rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me.Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison’s decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house.“You ladies have done an incredible job!” I announced, standing in the doorway.Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. “Let’s finish up quick. I have to get home; John’s going to kill me.”I’d promised her we’d be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home.Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five.“This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica.”She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug.“Thank you,” she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs.I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn’t be sure.A Legal-Eagle CallBy eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn’t shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn’t belong.I didn’t care. I felt good, the best I’d felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas.I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I’d promised, when I got a call from Steve.“Hey-ho, Stevorino.”“Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole.”“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too.” I teased.I heard him chuckle. “Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor.”“How’s that?” I asked, suddenly interested.“The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don’t have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It’s not a lot, less than $300K, but she’ll be getting her check next week.”“Steve, you’re the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you.”“Shit, they’re probably true. If anybody would know, it’d be you.”“All kidding aside. You’re a life saver.”I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”“That’s right. And I couldn’t ask for a better one.”“Ditto. Asshole.”“Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I’ll give you a call next week.”“You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don’t get any ideas.”“Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I’ll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?”“Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I’ll make you keep her and the credit card bills.”“Ouch. You win,” I had to laugh. “Thanks again.”“Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy.”“You too.”To be continued in Part 2, By Tx Tall Tales, for Literotica.

Life isn’t fair. So when you fight back, fight dirty.In 2 parts, Based on the post from Tx Tall Tales. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.Christmas has always been my favorite time of year. I married young, and had two perfect daughters, but my marriage was far from perfect. We had been young and in love. I was entering the community college and Denise was starting her senior year when we decided to tie the knot. Her family’s ready acceptance of me was a huge factor - the family I’d never had, making me feel like a real member of theirs. I can admit it now; I probably loved being a part of the family as much as I loved Denise.Our split up was inevitable, two teenagers who knew nothing about life thinking their infatuation with each other would make everything else workout. I wasn’t an all-star, super jock, Rhodes Scholar with a 12" swinging cock. I was just your average student, A and B grades, spending some bench time on the football team to get my letter, and losing my virginity at 18 to the girl I’d eventually marry.When times got rough, we didn’t know how to handle it, and struck out at each other. Her family often stepped in and helped out when they could, but time after time, the great sex wasn’t enough to make up for the difference in our wants, needs and ambitions.In the end, we gave up. Sometimes I think it’s a miracle we made it through 5 years. Our devotion to our children allowed us to finally see past our own issues, and work out a remarkably amiable truce, with our girls at the center. Even though Denise and I couldn’t live together, it turned out we got along a lot better divorced. We shared our daughters’ time, lived only one neighborhood apart, and worked together as a team to make our personal differences have as little impact on our girls as possible.I had initially shared an apartment uptown, but eventually bought one of the smallest houses in the same school district, just to make things easier. It was a lot more than I needed most of the time, but when the girls stayed with me it felt like a home. And we only lived a couple of miles apart.The neighborhood was nice, predominantly younger families, in older, smallish homes. Most of the people were cordial, kept up their property, and after a few years I knew many by name and would exchange greetings at the grocery store, or when out shopping. I had become suburbanized.This was our fourth Christmas since the divorce. Denise was living with Eric, who I wish I could despise, but he was a decent guy with a great job and lousy taste in sports teams. He doted on my girls without trying to take my place. It had taken a while, but we’d developed a friendship, which wasn’t a bad thing.My child support was pegged at just over $1500, with the kids on my health insurance. Even though we weren’t married long enough for alimony to kick in, I was paying another $500 a month just to make the kids’ lives better. And for me, that was all that really mattered.The expense had been rough at first, but with little to concentrate on other than work, my performance skyrocketed. Two promotions in three years had made the financial aspect much less problematic, but increased travel had made the ability to be available for the girls less guaranteed. Denise was good about it, and worked with me. In return I picked up some more of the girls’ expenses, including music lessons and a piano.At Least we still had ChristmasChristmas was special. We celebrated Christmas as an extended family. I’d come over early, and we’d have a big family breakfast and open all the presents together. I really went all out to make sure the girls got their favorite items. At six and eight years old, they were still young enough to have simple wants, and the magic of Christmas was as real as it gets. The in-laws would come over in the afternoon with more presents and we’d have a good old fashioned Christmas dinner with all the trimmings. It was nice to be part of something.I got a Christmas shut-down at work and Denise didn’t, so we agreed that they’d stay with me from Christmas to New Year’s, and any time she could get off, we’d usually work out something to get her time with the kids. It was understood that I wouldn’t leave town, at least not for more than a day.Summer was great with the 2 weeks I got to spend with them, and we’d usually spend it on the beach. Christmas was still different. Christmas was magical.I always was given the girl’s wish list, but I’d also start my shopping in late November for the must have items of the season. And I wasn’t stingy; I’d buy them all up, just to make sure I didn’t miss any. Stores, online auctions, Craigslist, I’d use any way possible to get my hands on the hottest presents. The first two years I’d caught hell from Denise for buying everything on the list, leaving nothing for them to get. Now I received a separate list of things I wasn’t allowed to buy.So it was that I had just finished wrapping my forty-fourth present, all in glitter Barbie paper for Briana, and in Hannah Montana paper for Allora. December 5th, my earliest date so far to finish the bulk of my shopping. Sure, I’d pick up a few more things, including something for Denise and Eric, but my girls were taken care of. The presents were carefully spread around my living room, where they’d remain on display until just before Christmas, when I’d bring them over to Denise’s in a big ceremony.The call came from Denise’s mother, Sharon. It took me 11 minutes flat to get to the hospital. I was still too late. Denise and Briana had both died en-route. Eric had passed away only ten minutes before I’d arrived. But Allora, my perfect little Allora, was fighting for her life, in critical condition. She’d always been a fighter, would never back down from any challenge. She’d beat this too, I just knew it.It was a freak accident, with a car dodging out of the way to miss a coyote on the road. An 18 wheeler behind the car did his best to avoid the car in front of him, but ended up fishtailing, and taking out a suburban in the next lane over. That vehicle crossed the median and hit my ex-wife’s family van head-on. Six dead already and one little girl still fighting hard for her dear life.Sharon and I kept a vigil over the little towhead, and when the doctors came out after 6 hours and declared the worst was over and she was in stable condition, we fell into each other’s arms and cried like children.We stayed by her side, one of us always present, and Sharon called me when my baby woke up and spoke. For three long days we watched her slowly heal in the hospital, the worst of her bruises, cuts and contusions blossoming on the second day, and only just starting to fade again. I’m not a religious guy by nature, but I found myself on my knees beside her bed, praying to God to take care of her, and giving thanks for pulling her through this horrendous disaster.At 4:18 pm on December 7th she passed away.No warning, no reason, she was there, and then she wasn’t. The doctors suspected a clot. I suspected incompetence.I finally understood how a person could get so down on themselves that life might not even feel worth living.I went home and shut myself off from the world. After a while I took the phone off the hook. Hell, let’s be honest, I ripped the fucking wires out of the wall so I didn’t have to listen to one more bleeding heart tell me they were “sorry for my loss”. The cell phone was easier. I just turned it off.Several people from work came by and assured me that I could take as much time as I needed. They’d bring me food, and news, and would leave as soon as they felt they’d spent the minimum time required socially by the situation.Denise’s family took care of the funeral arrangements. They attempted to call, and even stopped by for my input. I gave them a check for $10,000 to take care of the girls, nearly wiping out my savings. What was I going to spend it on now? I couldn’t bring myself to go to the showing but I did take a shower and put on a suit for the funeral. It was a bleak day, gray skies, 20 mile an hour winds threatening to tear the top off of the outdoor tent. The ground was soggy from rain the previous night. Just perfect.“Thanks, God. Piss on a guy when he’s down. Well, fuck You too.”I shook the required hands, and kissed the offered cheeks until I just couldn’t take it any longer. All these fake people. Fake emotions. Tell me how sorry they were then go home to their perfect little families and eat meatloaf. Fuck'em. Fuck'em all.The Valley of the shadow of deathFourteen days. Two solid weeks in that dark house. I wouldn’t turn on any lights. No TV. I didn’t bathe, I didn’t shave. I sat in my chair or I lay in my bed and wallowed.I had a few visitors after the first couple of days, but I’d rarely let them in, and before long they had the decency to stop showing up. Only Cathy from next door wouldn’t let me sink into complete oblivion. Every day, at least 3 times a day, she’d check in on me. I wouldn’t have let her in, but she had a key to the back door for emergencies and wasn’t afraid to use it.She’d open the windows a crack, and goad me into getting out of bed and at least sit in the living room. She’d bring food, which she’d set in front of me, and refused to leave until I at least tried it. I insisted on getting my key back, and she handed it over willingly enough. And showed up again the next day. She’d made copies. Meddlesome bitch. Again, she badgered me into eating her breakfast.And she’d talk. God, how that woman could talk! I got tired just listening.All the neighborhood gossip, town gossip, political gossip, school gossip - she was plugged in everywhere and knew it all. Who was doing what, or whom. Griping about people who still had Thanksgiving decorations up, or had Christmas blowups in their front yard. Church fiascos and neighborhood vendettas, she would sit there, drink her tea (or bourbon and coke if the sun had set) and fill me in.I didn’t care.Cathy Has A New TherapyIt had been two weeks since the accident. I’d lost more than 10 pounds, and really just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. But Cathy wouldn’t let me. She made it her personal mission to cheer me up, get me to respond, bring me back to life.Then one day she let me have it with both barrels.She walked up to me and slapped me across the face. Hard. “Damn it Alex! Snap out of it! Life is hard. And it isn’t fair, but as bad as you have it, there’s always someone who has it worse. Often in your own backyard if you have the eyes to see it.”“What do you know about it?” I snapped viciously. “I notice your kids are alive.”“I know my mother died when I was six, and my father left when I was thirteen, leaving Mike to raise my sister and me. He was seventeen years old. But he manned-up and did the job the best he could. That’s what I know. Life is hard.”“Life is hard. Life’s a bitch and then you die. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. When God closes a door he opens a window. If I hear one more God-damned cliché I swear I’ll kill something,” I growled.“Alex, you got a raw deal. You had two perfect little girls, and now they’re gone. Your past is shattered. Your little bit of immortality is lost. And as bad as you’ve got it, I’d remind you others have it worse, and they just press on. You need to as well,” Cathy told me, kneeling beside me and holding my hands.The woman barely knew me. A middle-aged mother of three with grown kids, and a workaholic husband. Her life was her home, keeping it immaculate and decorated for every holiday and season. Now it seemed I was her newest project. Why should I matter that much to her? Couldn’t she see I didn’t want her help?“Sure, starving Ethiopians, children in Nigeria dying of aids, Tibetan monks martyred, it’s a tough world. Boo hoo.”“You don’t have to look as far as Ethiopia or Tibet. There are people right here, right on your own block that are really struggling. Open your eyes. If you don’t like the unfairness do something about it. Even up the odds a bit. Make a difference somewhere. Get back to living.”Something she said must have gnawed its way down to my subconscious. I spent my usual 14 hours or so in bed, but when I awoke I was thinking about her constant comments about someone in my own backyard that had it worse.I cataloged each person on my block, in my head, and nobody really had it that bad. Sure, Neil, three doors down had lost his job, but his wife was still working, and he was looking. The Harris’s on the corner had a boy in Iraq, but as far as I could tell he was still Ok, and they had three more at home. The Martins, one down from the corner, fought all the time, and even had the cops called in on them once but they were still together. What did Cathy mean?I expanded the radius of consideration to include the blocks surrounding us. Then it hit me. Across the alley in back, two houses past Cathy’s own. Six months ago. Barry Morrison had driven into an empty field behind the local middle school and eaten a bullet. I didn’t know much about the family - I just knew there was one.When Cathy came over, I had showered off the top two layers of grime and sweat, and was drinking a Coke in the living room.The Morrison Prescription“Good morning, Alex, beautiful day outside. Why don’t we go out on the porch?”“The Morrisons. Tell me about them.”She placed her mug of tea in the microwave, warming it up, then walked out my front door and sat in one of my rocking chairs out front.Irritated, I followed, and sat in the chair beside her. “The Morrisons?”“Sandy and her daughter Erica. You won’t see much of her; she’s working two jobs trying to keep the house over their heads. They’re still fighting with the insurance company over payment. Suicide clause won’t pay under two years. He had insurance for years, but just around two years ago he changed the terms. She’s been trying to sell the house, but it’s underwater, and nobody’s buying.”“How’s the little one?”“Erica’s not doing so well. She’s seeing a counselor twice a week, and hardly speaks anymore. The school’s talking about holding her back,” Cathy explained. She sounded sad.“Do we know anything more about why he did it?”“No crimes, he wasn’t fired, no embezzling, it’s not clear what it was about. Apparently he’d been depressed for quite a while, but the underlying situation is still a blank as far as I know.”“Harsh on the family, going out like that,” I told her, finding the whole idea hard to grasp.“To say the least. The poor woman is worn to a frazzle.”“And how does this all matter to me?” I asked.“It doesn’t. It doesn’t have to matter to anybody. They’re on their own. Alone.”“No family help?”“Not that I know of. If they’re around, we don’t see much of them, that’s for sure.”“Cathy, how the hell do you know all this stuff?” I had to ask.“People just like to talk to me. I’m a very good listener,” she told me with a big smile.We sat quietly enjoying the crisp air, finishing our drinks.“You’re a good neighbor too, Cathy. Thanks,” I said softly.“That’s what neighbors are for,” she said, reaching out and patting me on my arm.That’s what neighbors are for.Cathy brought me dinner again and I realized I was starving. She beamed at me when I finished the whole platter.“Let’s go for a walk, Alex. You could use a stretch of the legs.”It had gotten chilly, and we bundled up a bit. She took the lead and we walked down the block and turned up the neighborhood. We headed back up the next block and she regaled me with the entire history and habits of the inhabitants of each place we passed. She might have been a good listener, but I had to wonder when she ever was quiet long enough to hear anything.It was obvious when we got to Sandy Morrison’s place. The “For Sale” sign was a dead giveaway. The unkempt yard and overgrown bushes indicated a lack of care for months. It couldn’t help with the sales prospects. The door paint was faded, and there were no Christmas lights or decorations set up. I thought the Realtor wasn’t earning their commission, letting the place show like this. Through the window I could see a desktop Christmas tree, maybe two feet tall, lit up all in white.Strangely, Cathy stopped speaking before we got to the house, and didn’t speak again until the end of the block. “Sad,” was all she said.We took a round-about path back to my house, and our conversation had returned to the safety of weather concerns, community issues, and such, carefully skirting any discussion of the Morrisons.I was feeling the chill after the walk, and invited Cathy in for a cup of coffee, Irish fortified if she so desired.We drank our coffee in front of my gas fireplace, warming our old bones. Damn that neighbor of mine, and her good intentions! She’d not only gotten me to think of something other than my own misery, and the unfairness of it all, but she had me thinking about those poor girls behind me, and what they must be going through. Damn it! It wasn’t fair.I guess I still wasn’t ready for pleasant company. Angry at the world, I threw my mug at the wall, shattering it, and leaned over with my head in my hands, doing my best to hold back the tears. Big boys don’t cry.Cathy stood and ran her fingers through my hair for just a moment before leaving out the back door. Kind enough to leave me alone to wallow in my misery a little longer.Giving Is HealingDecember 22nd. Just three days until Christmas.When Cathy came over that morning, I was already up and dressed. I had my working duds on and coffee and bagels ready.“You’re up early,” she commented, helping herself to the java.“It’s almost 10,” I reminded her. “Not so awfully early.”She laughed. “Seems to me anything before noon is quite early as of late. Got plans?”I nodded. “Thought I’d head over to the Morrison’s and see what I can do about the outside of the house. Clean it up a bit. Make it a little more presentable if they’re really planning on selling it.”“That’s mighty neighborly of you.”“It’ll give me something to do. I need to get out of this damned house.”After our coffee, she walked with me across the alley, all my yard-work gear in a wheelbarrow. The grass was dormant, but long, and the bushes were out of control. I didn’t notice when Cathy left, but she returned in a few hours with some sandwiches for lunch, insisting I take a break.I’d finished the bush trimming and had mowed the lawn, bagging the trimmings. I was just finishing the edging when she appeared. I took a break, and listened to her chatter about the neighborhood activities, and how sad it was that in the past few months nobody had offered to do as much as I had.“I guess we victims of fate need to stick together.”“It already looks 100% better. If you want to work in the backyard, I have a key to the gate.”“It figures you would.”“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked.“It just doesn’t surprise me. I bet you’ve been helping out when you could.”She sighed. “Not too much. She’s too damn proud. Doesn’t want any help from anybody.”I shook my head. “Now you tell me. She’ll probably call the police on me.”“So what if she does? You know you’re doing the right thing. I’ll bail you out if need be.”I let her unlock the back gate, and saw I had my work cut out for me. The back yard was worse than the front. The fence needed work as well, some boards were broken and loose, and one whole section was sagging. Luckily, my tools were only a couple of hundred feet away, across the alley, and I was soon at work, determined to finish before the residents arrived home.The biggest problem was one of the fence posts which had rotted out at the bottom. A new post and some quick-setting cement, solved that problem. Within an hour I’d be able to reattach the fence crossbeams to the new 4x4.I turned to see a young girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, watching me from the porch. Crap.“Just thought I’d fix your fence, before it falls down. I hope you don’t mind.”She just shook her head.She stood there watching me, and I felt ill at ease. I was a stranger. She shouldn’t be talking to me. I should probably leave. “I’m just going to clean up here and head back home. I can finish up later when your mother’s home.”I straightened up my clothing a bit, wiping my hands on my pants. “I’m Alex Reed. I live across the alley,” I explained, pointing down a few houses.She nodded.She reminded me so much of my own daughter, right around that age. Her hair was the same length, blonde, but not quite as light as Allora’s.Allora. My perfect little Allora. I closed my eyes, seeing her in that hospital bed, bruised and bandaged, fighting for her life. Her hair tucked under the bandages, the few strands that stuck out dark from sweat. Her body so small in that antiseptic white bed. My Allora.Gone.It felt like somebody had wrapped a band around my chest, and pulled it tight. I couldn’t breathe. I turned away from Erica, so she wouldn’t have to see me lose it. She’d suffered enough already. I felt the tears rise, unbidden, and I started for the gate. I had to get out of there.I barely made it as far as the driveway. It was too much. I closed the gate behind me and crumbled to the ground, seated with my head between my knees, my hands covering my head. It was Christmas, damn it! Christmas! My girls were supposed to be with me, shaking their presents and trying to guess what was in them. Instead Allora and Briana were gone. Their lives snuffed out before they could see anything of the world, before they could find their place, before they could fall in love. No shaking presents. No stomach aches from eating too many holiday sweets. No late night parties to drive me crazy with worry. No learning to drive. No struggling to find the right college. No bringing a boy home for the first time. No cramming for tests. No Spring Breaks. No proms. Nothing. Ever again.I was sobbing, and the little girl who had lost her father was standing on the driveway beside me, her hand resting on my shoulder, while I made a fool of myself.“Erica! You know your mother doesn’t want you out if she’s not at home. You should go back inside. Mr. Reed will be all right, he’s just tired. Go on now.” Cathy had me by the arm, and was doing her best to get me back on my feet. “Come on Alex, not here. Let’s get you home.”I knew she was right. I stood up, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. “I’ll be alright. Just give me a minute.” I pulled myself together, took a couple of deep breaths, and stood straight. “I’m Ok. Seeing her was just a little too much, too soon. But I’m fine now. I need to clean up here, and put the fence back together.”“Alright. I’ll help.”It only took us a few minutes to clean up and cart the bags of yard trimmings out to the rear curb. I ran all the yard tools back to my house, and returned to finish the fence work. I braced the new post with a couple of 2x4’s and reattached the two panels. Cathy’s help made it a lot easier. When we were done we both stood back and looked over the yard. Much better.“I’m going to go inside and fix Erica her after-school snack. It’s about all that Sandy will let me do. Why don’t you come with me?”“I don’t know if I should. Sandy doesn’t know me. She may not want me in her house when she’s not there.”“Never mind that. She’ll be fine. Just come in a moment. It’ll only take a few minutes.”I followed her inside, through the glass sliding door. Erica was sitting on the floor watching TV. I didn’t even look that way. I was afraid that seeing the wrong TV show would dredge up more painful memories.“Where can I wash my hands?” I asked Cathy.She pointed to a door. “In there.”I headed to the bathroom. “Don’t use the toilet. That one doesn’t flush anymore.”I could hear the running water in the commode. I washed my hands and wiped them on my shirt. There was no towel in the bathroom. Then I took the top off the tank and examined inside. Nothing complicated. The chain that connected the stopper to the handle extension was missing. Lifting the rubber stopper, I saw it was under the lip, the cause of the running water. I reattached the chain, and tested the flushing. Worked fine.“Fixed. The chain was just off.”Cathy nodded, and returned to making a grilled cheese sandwich. Briana loved grilled cheese. But you couldn’t cut the sandwich, and you had to remove the crust. I wouldn’t be cutting the crust off of sandwiches anymore.I took a deep breath, and went to examine the front door.“Cathy? I’m going to head home and get my sander and some paint. This door needs some help desperately.”“Go ahead. Sandy won’t be home until late, and if we’re going to get in trouble for the yard and the fence, we might as well make it a trifecta.”Fifteen minutes later, I was running the battery powered hand-sander over the door, removing the worst of the existing paint. I didn’t have too much to do, it was already mostly bare. I had brought over three possible paints to use, all of which I knew were approved by the homeowner’s association.“What color paint do you think I should use?” I asked Cathy.“Let’s ask Erica.” She returned in a few seconds with Erica at her side. “We’re going to paint the front door, Erica. What color would you like?”We had a choice of off-white, light blue, and a dark brown. She pointed to the light blue, then seated herself nearby to watch.I had already removed the hardware. I taped the hinges and bottom kick-plate, laid out my drip cloth, and started applying a coat of paint, top-to-bottom. I looked over at the young girl watching me so intently. I saw the tree beside her, so small and bare, with one little package underneath it.Christmas trees shouldn’t look like that.They should be big, full of decorations, all sorts, each one with its own story. Handcrafted special ornaments, with pictures of your family members. Popsicle stick ornaments with the Elmer’s glue showing. Lights blinking in an assortment of colors, candy canes and tinsel, and an angel on top. There should be presents around the bottom, stacked and scattered, so many you can’t even get near the tree.It was the first year I didn’t have a tree.We’d normally go out as a family and visit one of the Boy Scout tree lots, picking the biggest, fullest tree we thought could fit in my living room. Then we’d decorate it together, Christmas songs playing in the background, and sipping eggnog. We’d spend an eternity untangling the lights, replacing the bulbs that wouldn’t work, and replacing the metal hangars on the decorations that needed them. It was an all-day affair.Not this year. Not ever again.I realized I’d stopped painting, and I was staring. A long drip of paint from my brush was running down the door. The little girl looked at me, almost as if she understood.“Would you like to help?” I asked.She looked around, as if to ask if I was talking to her.“Yes, you.”She shyly nodded yes. I reached over to my bucket of painting supplies and pulled out a small brush. I pointed to the inlaid panels on the bottom half of the door. “You can paint here, around the edge of the panel. It needs to be done with a detail brush like the one you have. Get into the cracks.”She nodded, dipped her brush, and started painting straight down the panel edge, doing a good job.“That’s perfect. Just like that.” I went back to work completing the top half, and had to work around her, sometimes leaning way over to paint above her. She saw what I was doing, and I saw the mischievous heart of a little girl for a moment when she started backing away from the door, making me lean further and further over.“Hey!” I said in mock outrage. “You’re doing that on purpose!”When she giggled, apparently ignoring me, and continuing with her painting effort, I felt a small leap in my heart. It was nice to hear her giggle.“When you’re done with the painting, and done torturing me, you can paint around the edges of the two hinges and the kick-plate. If I won’t be in your way.”Little Erica nodded, and continued her careful painting, working slowly and deliberately around the perimeter before moving onto the hinges.I found myself kneeling beside her, painting the bottom-half of the door, while she detailed the trim. We switched places so I could work on the side near the hinges while she completed the bottom trim.“Not bad,” I commented, holding out a drip bucket for her to dump her brush in. I sealed up the paint can, peeled off the trim tape, and stood back to get a look at the results. A little girl stood beside me, her blonde hair a poignant reminder of all I’d lost. I took a deep breath to compose myself.“Not bad at all. Think your mother will like it?”I looked down at her while she thought it over. A smile slowly spread across her face. She nodded twice.I put my hand down for a fist bump, just like I would with my girls. She shrank away for a second, then glanced up at my face for a second before making a tiny fist and bumping her knuckles against mine.We were enjoying the last of the natural light as dusk was settling in. Cathy walked out and stood beside us, giving her approval. “The blue is perfect. Great choice Erica.”Erica stopped admiring her work, looked at Cathy, and blinked like she was just seeing her for the first time. She looked up and down the block, then walked back into the house and planted herself in front of the TV.“Ready to call it a day?” Cathy asked.“Yeah. Best get while the getting is good.” I packed up my paint supplies and in just a couple of trips hid any trace that I’d ever been there. Except of course for the door, yard and fence. Oh, and the toilet, although that really didn’t count for much.Back home I cleaned up and sat down pondering what I’d just done. I had mixed feelings, a little guilt creeping in for taking liberties with someone else’s house. But thinking about that little girl, and what she must be going through, made anything I could do to help worthwhile.Thinking was dangerous. I realized I hadn’t been very nice to the people who had tried to help me. I decided to rectify that if possible, and found a new phone cable for my phone and plugged it in. Picking it up I heard a dial tone. Good.I made a list of phone calls, and went to work. Calling, one-by-one, my friends, neighbors and co-workers, I apologized for my behavior and thanked them for their concern. To a one, they blew off my boorish behavior, and promised they’d be there for me if I needed anything.I stopped, with just a few calls remaining, wondering where those people were for Sandy and Erica, who seemed to need it far more than I.I picked up the phone and dialed Denise’s family. I knew it was going to be tough. I apologized for leaving the funeral arrangements to them, and thanked them for all they had done. Speaking to Dan was difficult, but my conversation with Sharon almost did me in. The time we’d spent in the hospital, watching over Allora came up, and I had to take a break for a bit to get my emotions under rein, while I listened to Sharon sob. Even after the divorce we’d remained friendly, and I was glad that we’d had each other on that fateful watch. I promised I’d stop by in the next couple of days, she insisted there was some paperwork that needed taking care of.My last call was to Steve, my roommate for three years in college, and best friend in the world. I had hung up on him twice that first day, and it was haunting me. He’d left more than a dozen messages on my cell-phone voicemail. Plus, I had ulterior motives.The phone rang several times and went to the answering machine. I felt like a weight had lifted, I wouldn’t have to face him. “Steve, Alex here. I’m sorry I…”“Alex, I’m here, don’t hang up, I’m here. Let me turn off this damned machine. Hold on.” I heard some rustling and the echo of our voices disappear. “Jesus, Alex. You’re killing me.”“Sorry. It hit me so hard; I just couldn’t listen to one more well-wisher.”“I understand.”He would understand. His father had passed away while we were in our last year of college, and he took it hard. Started drinking heavy, cutting classes, and chasing anything with boobs. I took care of him as much as I could, going so far as to collect his homework and projects, even talking to his professors. He’d been slow to pull it together, but eventually came around.Five years later, less than a year out of law school, it was his mother. I had flown out and spent a week with him. I knew it would be hard - he was an only child, and he had few relatives, and none he was close to. He came out of that funk bitter, and it cost him his girlfriend - no loss there. We’d been as close as brothers, hell, probably closer. We still were.Steven understood.I opened my soul to him, and stayed on the phone for ages. I heard him send his wife off to bed, while I vented. It was a much needed cathartic outpouring that left me exhausted.“What can I do? Anything, you know it. Should I fly down?”As much as I’d love to see him, it had been nearly a year, he was a family man now, and it was Christmas. “No. Stay with your family. I’m doing better, and if I need to I can call.”“Of course.”“I also wanted to say I was sorry.”“Sorry?”“Sorry that I couldn’t do more for you when you lost your parents. I never really experienced losing anyone like that, and couldn’t comprehend what you were going through.”“Shut the fuck up. You were there for me, buddy. Always. When nobody else was. I’ll never forget that. Enough said. Don’t need to be getting sappy over it.”I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright. By the way, there’s one other thing you might be able to do for me.”“Anything. That’s what friend are for.”That’s what friends are for.Meeting The ReaperThe pounding on my front door was not unexpected. Ten o'clock at night might be a little of a surprise, but the knock wasn’t.I went to the front door, and looked out through the glass beside it. A woman stood there. I had a fairly good idea of who it was.I opened the door. “Mrs. Morrison?”She glared at me and nodded.“Come in, please. Can I get you a cup of tea, or coffee?” I turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open. I walked to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. I turned to see her standing in the archway to the living room.She looked ready to burst, but I watched her breath deep and run her hands through her short hair. She looked young. Too young to be going through the hell she was currently experiencing.“I don’t want you around my house or my daughter,” she finally snapped.“I understand, and I’m sorry I interfered.” I walked past her and sat down in the living room. “I can’t explain it. I had to do something to get out of this house, and when Cathy told me about your situation I guess I got carried away.”She stared at me, and crossed her arms. “Don’t mention her name. I could kill her.”I smiled. “Believe me, I understand that. She’s been in my house every day, 3 or 4 times a day, meddling in my life.”“Meddling is right,” she snapped. She walked over and sat on the loveseat across from me. “Listen. I appreciate the thought. And I’m sorry for your loss.” She smirked. “Ha, listen to me. Sorry for your loss. Crap.”She leaned back. “We’re doing fine. I don’t need your help, I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t want you around my daughter when nobody’s around. Jesus, you painted my fricking’ front door blue! A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”I smiled. “I would have picked the wood tone. Blue was Erica’s choice, one of the four approved colors according to our Stalinist homeowner’s association.”She leaned back, rolling her eyes up. “Don’t remind me. If the bastards send me one more notice about yard and fence maintenance, I’ll rip their lungs out.” She seemed to calm down for a second, maybe realizing that those notices would no longer be coming. “I know. I should be thankful but I don’t need a stranger meddling in my life. Understood? No more doing things for me.”“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for that little girl. You don’t know me. I don’t know you. Agreed. I don’t know what happened to you and your family or why. Not really. What I do know is that girl of yours doesn’t deserve the hand she’s been dealt. That’s all I could think. I just wanted to help where I could.”She looked angry. “I’m sorry you lost your daughters. I am. But Erica is Mine. My daughter. My responsibility. Not yours.”“You are right. She’s no responsibility of mine.”“That’s right. I don’t know you. We live three doors down and in two years you’ve never spoken a word to us. Six months we’ve been on our own. I certainly don’t need you poking your head in now. I don’t know you, I don’t want to know you, and I’m not sure I’d like you if I did.”“Welcome to the club.”“Club?”“I’m not sure I like me either. I’m sorry, alright? Now I’m tired. You can let yourself out.”She got up and stomped her way to the front door, closing it sharply behind her.That had gone better than I’d expected.IrrepressibleDecember 23rd. I got up early, cleaning up, even shaving. I had errands to run. Cathy showed up in my kitchen while I was preparing breakfast.“At least neither of us is in jail,” were her first words.“Not yet.”“You did a good thing. Don’t forget it.”“I know. Still she was right. We should have asked permission.”“The hell we should! She’d never have given it.”“Then maybe we should leave her be.”“If a person was drowning, and they couldn’t yell for help, wouldn’t you still throw them a life preserver?”“A little overly-dramatic, don’t you think?”“No. She’s going down for the third time, and is in complete denial. By the time she accepts the fact she needs help it could be too late.” She looked me over. “You clean up nicely. What are you up to?”“I need to run some errands, see a few people, stop by work, some other stuff.”“Don’t overdo it,” she said, still in her ‘caring’ mode. “Need some company?”“Thanks, I appreciate the offer. I can handle this.”“Ok, you have my number. Give me a call if you need anything.”Making The RoundsThe office visit was painful. I stopped in, thanking my bosses for their understanding, visiting a few friends and letting them know I appreciated their concern. The way they looked at me just drove home how alone I was. I was glad to get out of there.I made a visit to the florist and picked up a trunk-load of Christmas cacti. I drove around to everyone I could think of, expressing my gratitude, and leaving the pretty plants behind. I used the same corny line with each one, comparing my 'prickliness’ the last couple of weeks to the plant’s spines. I left a few plants on doorsteps with a note. By mid-afternoon I felt I’d done my part.I stopped by Denise’s parent’s house, and Sharon greeted me at the door with a hug before she broke into tears. After she’d soaked my shirt she brought me in.“There’s something you need to know, Alex.”She sounded odd, and I wondered what was up.“Denise left a will. She left you the house and the lion’s share of her insurance, to take care of the girls if anything happened to her.”I was stunned. It was so unexpected. “I… I don’t know what to say.”Sharon reached out and patted my hand. “It’s not what I’d expected, but if you think about it, it makes sense. What are you going to do?”“I guess I’ll sell the house. I certainly don’t need two houses.”“She had mortgage insurance, it’ll be paid off. You could rent it out, you know. Earn some steady income off of it.”It was too much too fast. I couldn’t think straight. “I’ll have to think about it. I just wasn’t expecting anything like this.”“I understand.” She held my hand. “How are you doing?”“Better. Not good, but at least I can get out of bed.”“We’re here if you need us. You know that, right?”“Yes. Thank you. After the girls, you were the best thing that came out of our marriage.”“We love you too. Don’t forget it.”“I’m sorry I was so useful about the funeral arrangements, I don’t think I could have handled it without you,” I confessed.“Don’t even think about it. That’s what family is for.”That’s what family is for.My day wasn’t quite complete. A few more calls and I was putting things in motion I wasn’t sure I should, but I couldn’t resist.Around dinner time, I ventured next door. Cathy’s husband John answered the door. “The hermit has left the cave. Good to see you out and about.” He shook my hand, letting me in. “Cath - Alex is here.”Cathy came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishcloth. “How’d your day go?”“Not bad. A few surprises, but I survived.”“We’re about to eat. Care to sit down with us?”“Maybe. When do you think Sandy will be getting home?”“Probably nine-ish, would be my guess. Why?”“Just want to talk to her if I can.”“You have time for dinner then?”“Sure.”Another Confrontation With SandyBy 8:30 I was enjoying a cigar with John, sitting out in their driveway, trying to figure out what our football team’s chances were of going anywhere in the playoffs. We were strategically positioned so I had a view of the Morrison’s driveway.When Sandy drove up, I excused myself from John and jogged across the alley.“Sandy, can I talk to you a moment?”She looked ready to chase me off, but after a few awkward seconds she crossed her arms, leaned back against the car and raised her eyebrows.“Again, I’m sorry I entered your house without your permission. I know that was wrong. All I can say is I wasn’t really thinking straight.”She rolled her eyes. “Anything else?”“Yes. I know you told me you didn’t need my help, but there’s someone I’d like you speak to. I have a friend that’s a lawyer, and he’s willing to check into your insurance situation pro bono. Like you and me, he’s suffered a few losses in life, and he’d like to help you if he can. If you’d just give him a call, he’ll see what he can do.”I could see she wanted to say no, but was torn. She gnawed on her bottom lip, which I saw were chapped. She looked exhausted. I pulled out his card and held it out to her. “It’ll only take a couple of minutes. It can’t hurt.”She finally nodded and took the card from me. “Is that it?”“One last thing. I’m headed over to my ex-wife’s house tomorrow to clean out the refrigerator, and to get rid of her tree. It’s my responsibility now. I was going to ditch the tree; it’s one of those pre-lit artificial ones which I never could stand. I thought, if you don’t mind, and it’s not interfering too much, I could bring it by here and you could take if off my hands. Otherwise it’s going to the dump.” I spit out the words quickly before she could find too much fault with me.She seemed resigned to allow me to interfere, at least this much. She sighed and finally spoke up. “Alright. That would be nice. Now if that’s all, I’d like to go in now. My feet and back are aching and I have to get up early tomorrow.”“That’s all. You can call Steve tonight if you’d like, he’s a night owl and is expecting your call. Good night.”I took off quickly before she could change her mind about anything.Just ‘a bit' of decoratingI had recruited Cathy’s help over dinner the night before, assuming things went Ok with Sandy, and by noon we were back at the Morrison house, knocking on the door.Erica let us in, and we hauled our goodies in after us. I had the tree folded up and left it on the front doorstep while we made room for it in the living room. After I’d put it in place, I hauled in a large plastic crate of Christmas decorations, and encouraged Cathy and Erica to get to work making the tree look 'festive’. Right on schedule my weekly cleaning crew showed up and I put them to work giving the entire house a thorough cleaning. I had felt guilty chasing them away the last few weeks, and had begged and cajoled them into doing me this one favor, on Christmas Eve of all days. The team of four went to work like whirling dervishes, storming through the rooms in pairs leaving sparking chrome and sweet smells in their wake.We only had a few hours if Cathy was right, and I had one more big task lined up. The Chem-Dry carpet cleaners were running a little late, but showed up not long after the cleaning crew had finished with the living and dining rooms, and I had moved most of the furniture into the hallways and kitchen. They went right to work, and had the downstairs completed in a little over an hour. While they worked at that, I spent the time decorating the front yard and the house with Christmas lights. I hoped that Sandy liked traditional multi-color displays. I wasn’t all that fond of the 'all-white’ look, and was using my own lights to decorate her house. By the time I had finished I was sweating up a storm, and was getting nervous about the time.The carpet guys left first, reminding me to let the carpet dry for another hour before returning the furniture to its place. The cleaning crew followed shortly after, and I’d rewarded them nicely, tipping them an extra $100 for coming out on Christmas Eve. I moved indoors, with the lights complete and lit up, to find a Christmas wonderland awaiting me.Cathy and Erica had done an amazing job, using what I had brought over and getting the Morrison’s decorations out of the attic and putting those to use as well. You could hardly tell it was the same house.“You ladies have done an incredible job!” I announced, standing in the doorway.Cathy looked a little disheveled but very pleased with herself. “Let’s finish up quick. I have to get home; John’s going to kill me.”I’d promised her we’d be done by 4:00 and it was already nearly 5:00. She was holding a Christmas Eve open-house and was expecting half of the neighborhood over that evening. She only had a couple of hours left to finish her own preparations. I gave her a hug for all of her effort and shooed her off, while I started hauling the furniture back into place, working at a frenzied pace to get done before the unsuspecting benefactor got home.Erica followed behind me, arranging all the lamps, baskets and knick-knacks, and adding additional holiday decorations as we went. With the last of the furniture in place, I turned and gave her a high-five.“This is all our secret, right? If your Mom asks, the Christmas elves stopped by to help clean up. You did a great job, Erica.”She smiled and held her arms out to me. I leaned down and gave her a hug.“Thank you,” she whispered, just before she let go and disappeared up the stairs.I felt a lump in my throat. Whether it was fear of being caught by her mother, or the joy of hearing her speak her first words to me, I couldn’t be sure.A Legal-Eagle CallBy eight o'clock, Sandy still hadn’t shown up on my front-doorstep with a shotgun. I guess she was going to wait until after Christmas to eviscerate me over meddling where I didn’t belong.I didn’t care. I felt good, the best I’d felt in two weeks, thinking about that little girl celebrating a real Christmas. Kids should have Christmas.I had cleaned up and decided to make an appearance next door, as I’d promised, when I got a call from Steve.“Hey-ho, Stevorino.”“Only my Grandma gets to say that, asshole.”“Merry fuckin’ Christmas to you too.” I teased.I heard him chuckle. “Merry Christmas is right. At least for your neighbor.”“How’s that?” I asked, suddenly interested.“The insurance creeps were just stalling. They don’t have a leg to stand on. The only change to the policy was upon their advice after an annual policy review by their own agent. A little legal pressure was all it took. It’s not a lot, less than $300K, but she’ll be getting her check next week.”“Steve, you’re the man. I take back all those nasty things I said about you.”“Shit, they’re probably true. If anybody would know, it’d be you.”“All kidding aside. You’re a life saver.”I knew he hated any hint of seriousness. I could almost hear him blushing over the phone. “Hey, that’s what friends are for, right?”“That’s right. And I couldn’t ask for a better one.”“Ditto. Asshole.”“Shit. You had to go and spoil it. Listen, I gotta run. Give your family my love and have a great Christmas. I’ll give you a call next week.”“You got it. And Darla sends her love. She made me say that. Don’t get any ideas.”“Got it. Give her a kiss for me. Scratch that. I’ll come out after the holidays and give it to her myself. When are you going to be out of town next?”“Funny guy. Start anything with her, and I’ll make you keep her and the credit card bills.”“Ouch. You win,” I had to laugh. “Thanks again.”“Merry Christmas. Hang in there buddy.”“You too.”To be continued in Part 2, By Tx Tall Tales, for Literotica.

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“No TV, no beer make Homer something, something…” Go Crazy? DON'T MIND IF WE DO!!! It's our first time discussing the iconic and timeless show THE SIMPSONS, more specifically their annual HALLOWEEN specials TREEHOUSE OF HORROR!!! Now there's simply too many to discuss them all so AA and CM are just going to recall a handful of their faves and look to YOU - The Friday Night Faithful to tell us some of your faves! Full eps or single tales - whichever helped you get into the Spirit of Halloween!!! Grab a handful of candy and your flashlight and mask cause it's time to learn to Cook FORTY humans OOPS I meant FOR FORTY humans! --- Send in a voice message: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/jafnpodcast/message Support this podcast: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/jafnpodcast/support

Waking up in hospital, bike messenger Jim enters the eerily empty streets of London, not knowing what has happened in the last 28 days. Finding the only humans alive, Jim and his crew find out that nowhere is safe as they make their way through the rage infected streets, in search of safety.   Danny Boyle's aggressively low-fi entry into the zombie genre is as impactful as it was 21 years ago. Uncompromising and intentionally shot through low grade equipment, 28 Days Later kicked started a pop culture craze that is still felt today.   There's no government. No army. No police. No TV, no radio, no electricity. But there'll always be ATRM.   Episode sponsors: BetterHelp: For a 10% discount off your first month with BetterHelp, click here Connect with ATRM: To support what we do, access our archive and listen to exclusive episodes, become an ATRM patron. Twitter: @ATRightMovies YouTube: Subscribe to our channel Instagram: @allthe_rightmovies  Facebook: Join our movie group TikTok: @alltherightmovies Website: alltherightmovies.com

Corey actually had to talk to her husband yesterday. No TV? Woah. Plus, compliments that are actually insulting.

New Season; New Episodes! SEASON 8 Daily Leadership Tips and Discussions Paul is back in the recording studio and is bringing new challenges, discussions, leadership tips, and stories. Season 8 is going to be a little different, so be sure to give me feedback and comments by emailing me at Paul@CLCTeam.com Lots of new stuff to come... please consider subscribing, sharing with a friend (or your team), and giving me a review. Thanks for your patience as I work through the sound issues this first week back. Have a Great Day and Lead Well! "Run To Your Challenges!"  

In today's episode:New crimes for strange timesMalfeasance on the part of the special counsel's officeThe pursuit of a "speedy trial"J6 Committee records have vanishedFani Willis and racketeeringDestroying democracy to save "Our Democracy"No TV for you.Connect with Be Reasonable: https://linktr.ee/imyourmoderatorHear the show when it's released. Become a paid subscriber at imyourmoderator.substack.comVisit the show's sponsors:Make life more comfortable: mypillow.com/reasonableDiversify your assets: kirkelliottphd.com/reasonableOther ways to support the work:ko-fi.com/imyourmoderatorbtc via coinbase: 3MEh9J5sRvMfkWd4EWczrFr1iP3DBMcKk5Merch site: https://cancelcouture.myspreadshop.com/Follow the podcast info stream: t.me/imyourmoderatorOther social platforms: Twitter, Truth Social, Gab, Rumble, or Gettr - @imyourmoderator Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/be-reasonable-with-your-moderator-chris-paul. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In today's episode:New crimes for strange timesMalfeasance on the part of the special counsel's officeThe pursuit of a "speedy trial"J6 Committee records have vanishedFani Willis and racketeeringDestroying democracy to save "Our Democracy"No TV for you.Connect with Be Reasonable: https://linktr.ee/imyourmoderatorHear the show when it's released. Become a paid subscriber at imyourmoderator.substack.comVisit the show's sponsors:Make life more comfortable: mypillow.com/reasonableDiversify your assets: kirkelliottphd.com/reasonableOther ways to support the work:ko-fi.com/imyourmoderatorbtc via coinbase: 3MEh9J5sRvMfkWd4EWczrFr1iP3DBMcKk5Merch site: https://cancelcouture.myspreadshop.com/Follow the podcast info stream: t.me/imyourmoderatorOther social platforms: Twitter, Truth Social, Gab, Rumble, or Gettr - @imyourmoderator Become a member at https://plus.acast.com/s/be-reasonable-with-your-moderator-chris-paul. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Pac-12 issues continue as the conference flounders without a TV deal and the Big 12 waits to add a 14th team. Heartland College Sports' Pete Mundo discusses what it means for conference realignment.

The other half of The Night Coop Podcast is here. Ali Ryan needs her expressions among other things in her debut on the Tough Choice podcast. Follow @toughchoicepod on Instagram. Follow Kazeem Rahman - @KazeemComedy Follow Ali Ryan - @iamaliryan The Night Coop podcast is on all platforms. If you have any questions you want us to consider, email ToughChoice@outlook.com

Hey Critters!   We're back with another exciting review of "Creatures of Habit". In their latest endeavor, The Creatures attempt to not eat meat. Let's see if they have what it takes!   Creatures of Habit Episode: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0oSQzznRClRRcu4IwsgEeI?si=ca65ad196a4443fa Creatures of Habit Patreon: https://patreon.com/creaturesofhabitPod?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=creatorshare_fan&utm_content=join_link LET'S MAKE TIFF RUN A TRIATHLON!    

Further Reading: Outbreak Investigation of Salmonella: Flour (April 2023) - https://bit.ly/3LxwAGlPolice issue call for help, outrage continues to grow over deadly subway chokehold encounter - https://7ny.tv/3AXe5WY'No writers. No TV': Hollywood scribes strike over pay - https://reut.rs/3LZGx0NWGA Negotiations—Status as of May 1, 2023 - https://bit.ly/42rBgEtHollywood's writers are on strike. Here's why that matters. - https://bit.ly/3nu1dVb Remember to Register to vote! Mass Residents should go to: https://www.sec.state.ma.us/ele/For more Civil Politics visit our website, civilpoliticsradio.com and follow us on the socials! Facebook.com/civilpoliticsradio @CivilPoliticsFMDon't miss another episode - subscribe to our podcast (iTunes, Google Play, Spotify, and more!)Support Civil Politics by donating to the tip jar: https://tips.pinecast.com/jar/civilpoliticsradioThis podcast is a member of the Planetside Podcast Network. Visit PlanetsidePodcasts.com to find other Planetside Productions!Send us your feedback online: https://pinecast.com/feedback/civilpoliticsradio/d8e6d074-cc2a-4525-80a9-03b3001df6b5

On the latest episode of the Amanda Seales podcast, she discusses the discovery of more remains of Rasheed Carter and the ongoing investigation into his death. She also talks about the backlash Karl Lagerfeld is receiving after being honored at the Met Gala, as well as the disturbing incident where a black server was harassed by Neo-Nazi Confederate patrons. Additionally, the podcast covers the recent news of Dillon Brooks being dropped by the Grizzlies over his comments about Lebron James. Finally, Amanda Seales celebrates Kandi Burgess' Tony nomination and highlights some other noteworthy news stories. FOLLOW ALONG AS WE COVER: (03:54) BLACKURATE NEWS:  UPDATE: More Remains Of Rasheem Carter Have Been Found (07:23) Not Everyone Thought Celebrating Karl Lagerfeld Was A Good Idea.  (11:57) The Group Chat: Mental Health Check In / Mental Health Awareness Month (17:18) Our Phone Lines Are Open To You 24/7…At 855-AMANDA-8 THAT'S 855-262-6328! (20:23) BLACKURATE NEWS: Black Server Harassed By Neo-Confederate Patrons (27:44) Dillon Brooks Told By Grizzlies He Won't Return “Under Any Circumstances” (32:35) BIG UP - Kandi Buress Is A Producer And Got A Tony Nomination!!!! LET DOWN - Zooey Loses Her Seat (36:38) It's The Amanda Seales Show And You Know Our Phone Lines Are Open To You 24/7…At 855-AMANDA-8 THAT'S 855-262-6328! (39:43) BLACKURATE NEWS: Women Take Over Bench /Transgender Rep. Zoe Zephyr Was Using To Take Of Political Business (48:59) Writers Strike Is In Full Affect - Thousands Of Unionized Television Writers Say They Are Not Being Paid Fairly And After Negotiations Failed With Hollywood Studios Yesterday Writers Headed To The Picket Lines (54:16) Join The Conversation Or Just Say Hello By Calling In AT 855-AMANDA 8, 855-262-6328! (59:20) Politicians Say The Darndest Things  (62:56) 60-Second Headlines! FOLLOW THE SHOW ON ALL SOCIALS: @sealessaidit @amandaseales @djnailz If you have a comment leave Amanda a message at 1 855-AMANDA-8 that's 1-855-262-6328See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Bill was not on TV this week but Bill shared his thoughts on the stories heavy on his mind and Claude shared your emails. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Bill was not on TV this week but Bill shared his thoughts on the stories heavy on his mind and Claude shared your emails. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Die-hard Red Sox fan Jared Carrabis, host of DraftKings "Baseball is Dead" Podcast joins Adam Schein to talk about his Sox, being nicer about the Yankees, Shohei Ohtani's future, Mookie Betts leaving Boston, his love of Baseball, and how his career got started. Schein and Bob Stew bash people who spoil TV shows on Twitter, talk LIV Golf vs the PGA Tour after The Masters, the NBA Playoffs, the collapse of the Dallas Mavericks and reveal another hysterical text from Jack Schein. 

#RingRust musicular #Wrestlemania39 Weekend Overload... & I play a Perpetually-Hungry-&-Thirsty friend's favourite wrestling tunes, in this week's #3WayDanceOff!  ~ ~ ~ I'd like to hear from you! Please drop me a line @ ring-rust@hotmail.com {Subject Line: Ring Rust} & let me know what you like {or dislike} about my show! I'm always on the lookout for constructive criticism {if you want playlists again, start giving me feedback, people!}  ~ ~ ~ Check out my #Unboxing videos, all that snazzy anti-social media & support all my shows http://markjabroni.mysite.com/ ~ ~ ~ RECORDED LIVE @ CHMR-FM Studios in Sunny St. John's NL! If you want to contribute to Betty Cisneros' Stage 4 Cancer treatment, please donate @ https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-betty-battle-her-cancer-away SHOW NOTES... 0:06:20 Pay-Per-Review: Impact Wrestling's Multiverse United 1 0:11:33 Musicular Interlude 1 0:18:19 Pay-Per-Review: Impact Wrestling's Multiverse United 2 0:24:28 Musicular Interlude 2 0:34:21 Pay-Per-Review: Ring of Honor's Supercard of Honor 1 0:38:30 Musicular Interlude 3 0:48:07 Assuming the Intermissionary Position 0:52:54 This Week's Macho Fact 1:02:58 Pay-Per-Review: Ring of Honor's Supercard of Honor 2 1:08:40 Musicular Interlude 4 1:17:53 This Week's 3-Way Dance-Off: the Gratest WWE Tunage!  1:32:32 Pay-Per-Review: NXT's Stand & Deliver  1:34:24 Musicular Interlude 5 1:41:39 Pay-Per-Review: Wrestlemania 39a 1:43:01 Musicular Interlude 6 1:51:23 Pay-Per-Review: Wrestlemania 39b 1:52:29 Musicular Interlude 7

Donald Trump makes a last minute change to his legal team ahead of his expected surrender to face criminal charges in the Stormy Daniels hush money probe. No TV cameras will be allowed in court, but photographers will be allowed to take pictures before proceedings begin. Plus, millions of Americans face the threat of severe weather, including tornadoes, spanning areas that were recently hard-hit across the North and Midwest. And, Chicago voters head to the polls in a tight Mayoral runoff.Also this morning: the NYC Mayor warns Trump supporters to “Control yourselves”, Trump plans a Mar-a-Lago speech hours after his historic court appearance, how much data the Chinese spy balloon was able to transmit to Beijing, police say the Nashville school shooter planned the massacre for months, and, Democrat lawmakers in Tennessee face expulsion over joining a gun violence protest. To learn more about how CNN protects listener privacy, visit cnn.com/privacy Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today's Get Your S.H.I.F.T. by Dr. Myron chats with Jason. The Guys discuss the importance of attraction in marriage, tips to consider before marriage, and share personal experiences around growth in marriage. Can a marriage survive without attraction? What are other factors to consider before marriage? EPISODE HIGHLIGHTS: This episode features Dr. Myron and Jason discussing what they would tell their younger self before marriage. They start by discussing Dr. RA Vernon's podcast clip about attraction within and before marriage. They then dive into essential tips to consider before marriage shaped around the experiences in their marriages. 00:35 Intro with Dr. MyRon 01:35 Sponsor Message 3:30 Dr. Vernon's Podcast Clip 11:25 Premarital Counseling 12:00 Compromise 17:00 Expectations/Personal Trauma 19:30 Quality Time 22:30 Sex Expectations 27:30 Wealth Management 32:00 Self-confidence/Connection 34:45 Kids 37:35 No TV in the room Do you want to be in a community of men to serve as your safe space? Join the Winning Circle wait list now and register at www.menswinningcircle.com. Go to www.iamahighintegrityman.com to see where you are in terms of winning in the areas that matter. If you would like to be a featured sponsor on the podcast, contact us via email at team@myronedmonds.com For more information, go to www.menswinningcircle.com Follow me everywhere: Instagram: @itsmyronlive - https://www.instagram.com/itsmyronlive/ @shiftmenpodcast - https://www.instagram.com/shiftmenspo... Twitter: @itsmyronlive - https://twitter.com/itsmyronlive Facebook: http://facebook.com/itsmyronlive

New board, new computer, new monitor...same old, tired puddle of mush for a brain. Wilkommen to our German friend(s)! Seriously, reach out to us at duhrealrnr@gmail.com, hit us up on the Tweeter @duhrealrnr, something. We'd love to have you/y'all on the show. Better than having Dan...again. Please don't make us have Dan again.In no particular order: Jeff waits to set up his new gear until the last minute Jeff invents letters We don't mention Dan again, we promise...oops All of Jeff's favorite things about news articles in one place A Libertarian Walks Into a Bear Pizza, Sangria, and McDonald's Nelson Muntz, Russian Snipers, and Lorries Reporters on top of the story Amazon thanks it's drivers...briefly Gen X-ers Rule! No TV for you! Deadman switches, vests, and flashy-flashes Jeff sets up his gear wrong If you're ready to make a podcast, make your podcast better or collaborate in another way, contact us at makemypod@fytepro.com

This week, join Mike McGuire as he goes through some of the big news including a pending return for John Cena, injury updates on Roman Reigns and Drew McIntyre, and all the happenings from yesterday's ROH and NXT Specials, including a surprise announcement about where ROH TV will be able to be seen... for a price. Also, the Wrestling Observer's Dave Meltzer walks us through the viability of AEW Rampage going into the new year, some NEW details on the Sasha Banks/NJPW situation and also a look at FTR's latest losing streak and what it could mean - or NOT mean. Lastly, Dave sticks around for a little while longer to take us through the 2022 Inductees into the Wrestling Observer Hall of Fame. Thank you for your continued support of SNME Radio!

"No-TV-ember is all about letting go of a distraction to help the family focus on what really matters.” In this week's episode, Jill and Nick dive into what their days have been like since getting rid of the TV for the month of November. They share the purpose behind starting this challenge, the amazing benefits that blossomed because of it, as well as what their next steps are for December. Enjoy your walk, commute or however you consume podcasts and thanks for hanging out with us!   RESOURCES Blog Post: Living Without TV Benefits   QUOTE OF THE DAY "All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson   TAKE ACTION CHALLENGE Take away a distraction in your life for 7-28 days…see what blossoms.     FOLLOW US Website: simplifiedkhaos.com Instagram: @simplified.khaos Jillian: @nourishthemessy Nick: @nicksimplified   CONTACT US Email: simplifiedkhaospodcast@gmail.com   MUSIC Night Owl by Broke for Free: http://brokeforfree.com/

Shock Jock, Thanksgiving Reggae Band, Sports, World Cup, Pretzels, He Still Wants To Be With You, Gift Giving, Wrestle with the Bible, End of a Movie, He's Not Tired of You Phone Books, Sea Monkeys, No TV, New to the Show, Unscramble Eggs, BONUS CONTENT: Masterclass; Quotes: “I hope you hear me dropping it.” “Crunchy burnt is my love language.” “God's really good at this.” “There were no guilds.”

Baz Luhrmann, the legendary director with a unique visual and audio style.  Elvis, the king of rock and roll.  Jam those two things together and you get a movie that's so good, this episode only contains one buzz.  And it's not for the movie.  No TV's were injured in the making of this episode.  (Can't say the same for the film)   Find all of our Socials at: https://linktr.ee/theloveofcinema Hosts: John Say, Dave Green. Music: soundcloud.com/dasein-artist Beer: @cbarrozo.beer Edited and produced by Dave Green. Twitter: @theloveofcinema, Twitch/Facebook/Instagram: @theloveofcinemapod, YouTube: The Love of Cinema Podcast. additional tags: Tom Hanks, Austin Butler, Olivia DeJonge, Colonel, Beale Street, BB King

Sean McVay officially says he is not going to go to TV. This is very good news for the Rams immediate future. PLus, the Rams punt on attending the combine...will other teams follow? Lastly, how much and for how long with new McVay contract be for? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Sean McVay officially says he is not going to go to TV. This is very good news for the Rams immediate future. PLus, the Rams punt on attending the combine...will other teams follow? Lastly, how much and for how long with new McVay contract be for? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices