Fictional Short Stories (FICTION)

[Dallas Boy50]

Below is an article written by Rick Reilly of Sports Illustrated. He details his experiences when given the opportunity to fly in an F-14 Tomcat. If you aren't laughing out loud by the time you get to "Milk Duds," your sense of humor is broken.
This message is for America's most famous athletes...
...someday you may be invited to fly in the back-seat of one of your country's most powerful fighter jets. Many of you already have: John Elway, John Stockton, Tiger Woods, to name a few. If you get this opportunity, let me urge you, with the greatest sincerity...
Move to Guam.
Change your name.
Fake your own death!
Whatever you do ...
Do Not Go!!!
I know. The U.S. Navy invited me to try it. I was thrilled. I was pumped. I was toast! I should've known when they told me my pilot would be Chip (Biff) King of Fighter Squadron 213 at Naval Air Station Oceana in Virginia Beach.
Whatever you're thinking a Top Gun named Chip (Biff) King looks like, triple it. He's about six-foot, tan, ice-blue eyes, wavy surfer hair, finger-crippling handshake -- the kind of man who wrestles dyspeptic alligators in his leisure time. If you see this man, run the other way. Fast.
Biff King was born to fly. His father, Jack King, was for years the voice of NASA missions. ("T-minus 15 seconds and counting ..." Remember?) Chip would charge neighborhood kids a quarter each to hear his dad. Jack would wake up from naps surrounded by nine-year-olds waiting for him to say, "We have a liftoff."
Biff was to fly me in an F-14D Tomcat, a ridiculously powerful $60 million weapon with nearly as much thrust as weight, not unlike Colin Montgomerie. I was worried about getting airsick, so the night before the flight I asked Biff if there was something I should eat the next morning.
"Bananas," he said.
"For the potassium?" I asked.
"No," Biff said, "because they taste about the same coming up as they do going down."
The next morning, out on the tarmac, I had on my flight suit with my name sewn over the left breast. (No call sign -- like Crash or Sticky or Leadfoot ... but, still, very cool.) I carried my helmet in the crook of my arm, as Biff had instructed. If ever in my life I had a chance to nail Nicole Kidman, this was it.
A fighter pilot named Psycho gave me a safety briefing and then fastened me into my ejection seat, which, when employed, would "egress" me out of the plane at such a velocity that I would be immediately knocked unconscious.
Just as I was thinking about aborting the flight, the canopy closed over me, and Biff gave the ground crew a thumbs-up. In minutes we were firing nose up at 600 mph. We leveled out and then canopy-rolled over another F-14.
Those 20 minutes were the rush of my life. Unfortunately, the ride lasted 80. It was like being on the roller coaster at Six Flags Over Hell. Only without rails. We did barrel rolls, sap rolls, loops, yanks and banks. We dived, rose and dived again, sometimes with a vertical velocity of 10,000 feet per minute. We chased another F-14, and it chased us.
We broke the speed of sound. Sea was sky and sky was sea. Flying at 200 feet we did 90-degree turns at 550 mph, creating a G force of 6.5, which is to say I felt as if 6.5 times my body weight was smashing against me, thereby approximating life as Mrs. Colin Montgomerie.
And I egressed the bananas. I egressed the pizza from the night before.
And the lunch before that. I egressed a box of Milk Duds from the sixth grade. I made Linda Blair look polite. Because of the G's, I was egressing stuff that did not even want to be egressed. I went through not one airsick bag, but two.
Biff said I passed out. Twice. I was coated in sweat. At one point, as we were coming in upside down in a banked curve on a mock bombing target and the G's were flattening me like a tortilla and I was in and out of consciousness, I realized I was the first person in history to throw down.
I used to know cool. Cool was Elway throwing a touchdown pass, or Norman making a five-iron bite. But now I really know cool. Cool is guys like Biff, men with cast-iron stomachs and freon nerves. I wouldn't go up there again for Derek Jeter's black book, but I'm glad Biff does every day, and for less a year than a rookie reliever makes in a home stand.

A week later, when the spins finally stopped, Biff called. He said he and the fighters had the perfect call sign for me. Said he'd send it on a patch for my flight suit.

What is it? I asked.

"Two Bags."

[HG]

A short story that touched me deep...

The Fox

A woman lived at the far end of a peninsula in a modest adobe hut and she appeared to be quite happy living all alone. The woman was no older than twenty, sturdily built, dark like the other Indians and Mestizos who inhabited the other end of the peninsula, and by the standards of the time, very handsome. She had all she needed to live very comfortably. The woman owned one goat that gave a great deal of rich milk. Furthermore, fruit trees grew all around her hut so that she never wanted for juicy purple figs, sweet crisp apples and tangy fragrant lemons. Though many colorful birds and energetic rabbits lived amongst the trees and shrubs, the woman did not have the heart to kill anything. So, she lived on fruit as well as on goat milk which, by her skillful hands, she made into very rich cheese and butter. All in all, the woman's world was as complete and serene as she ever could have wished and she seldom had to enter town for her needs.

The people who lived at the other end of the peninsula viewed the woman with great suspicion because she needed no one else to make her happy.

"Who does she think she is?" they grumbled.

And some said, "She will learn someday that she needs more than herself to live in this world!"

Still others wondered, "How could she not want to mingle with us? Are we not good people? Do we not offer warm company?"

They were not so simple as to imply that the woman was a "bruja" -- a witch -- or that she had some alliance with a darker power. No, the people on the other end of the peninsula were not stupid. Quite simply, they let jealousy do their thinking. And their jealousy led to griping about the woman. Other than this griping, however, the people left the woman to her own method of living.

To the north of the woman's hut was a small but plentiful pool of fresh water that ran down the nearby mountain that the people of the peninsula dubbed "El Zorro" which means "The Fox." No one knows why it was so named because the mountain did not resemble anything -- let alone a fox -- nor did foxes populate the area. The water tasted sweet and all the people of the peninsula drew water from the pool for their daily needs. It was on these trips to the pool that the people saw the woman working around her hut tending her goat and making butter and cheese. The people stared at her but she simply went about her business singing a cheerful song in her native Indian tongue rather than in Spanish. This, of course, merely angered the people even more.

The water that ran down from El Zorro into the pool made a constant rushing sound that was loud though pleasant. Indeed, the sound encouraged the woman to do her chores at a steady pace and it helped the woman sleep soundly each night. One morning, after being lulled into a deep sleep by the water rushing down the mountain and into the pool, the woman awoke and, as was her daily custom, she went to feed her goat. She took a few steps to the small wooden table at the other end of her hut and pulled from beneath it a burlap sack filled with grain. The woman picked up a battered though functional bowl made from a gourd and filled the bowl with grain. She pushed the bag back to its place and headed to the door while humming a pleasant and ancient melody. As the woman attempted to step out of her hut, her feet struck something soft though substantial. She looked down and her eyes widened. A sudden shock of horror ran throughout her limbs making her drop the goat's food. Before her, at the entrance of her little hut, lay her goat, slit from its throat down to its belly. The goat was drained of its blood that made a sea of red interrupted only by the soft white of the goat's rich thick milk that swirled within but did not mix with the blood. The woman jumped over the goat and ran to the pool of water and threw herself on the ground by the pool's edge.

Where does such cruelty come from? she thought. And she lay there for hours not knowing what to do or what else to think. The people from the other end of the peninsula saw her as they came to draw their daily water. They looked at the carcass of the goat and back at the woman and just shook their heads and said nothing to the woman.

When the woman finally pulled her emotions and thoughts together, it was almost midday. She realized what she had to do but this realization only made her feel ill. The woman knew that she had to get another goat but, to do so, she had to go to town and barter for one because wild goats no longer roamed freely on the peninsula or on El Zorro. She stood up and went to her hut turning her eyes up to the sky so as not to see her slain goat. The woman retrieved from a shelf some of her finest cheeses and put them into a large cloth sack. She then pulled a small tin box from under her bed and gathered into her small but strong hand ten pesos. That tin box had once been filled with many pesos but over that last five years, since the death of the woman's mother, the little treasure slowly shrank. But it was a necessary withdrawal. Prepared to barter, the woman left her hut carefully avoiding the sight of her slain goat and headed to town.

As she entered the main street of the town, she kept her eyes ahead of her to avoid the stares of the people. They muttered, "Look, she needs us now." But they did not interfere with the woman's mission. The woman remembered how, long ago, her mother took her to town to buy the goat that now lay dead by her hut. The goat seller had a small adobe structure with a large fenced-off yard where he kept his goats. The woman remembered that it was near the end of the main street of the town, off a little street called Calle de las Máscaras. She remembered the name of the street because, as a young girl, she wondered why you could not buy a mask from the goat seller when, after all, the goat seller's adobe sat on the Street of the Masks. She also remembered that the goat seller was quite old and smelled of dirty leather and grinned a foul grin at her. But she enjoyed the memory of that day because she had been with her mother and she was allowed to choose which goat they were going to barter for.

By and by, the woman arrived at the goat seller's adobe and approached its large wooden double doors. The woman could hear goats bleating and their pungent but not unpleasant fresh dung-smell reminded her of her slain goat. She lifted the large iron knocker and let it drop with a solid pound and waited for a response. The woman looked to the left and then to the right and noticed that some of the townspeople slowed their pace as they passed the adobe. She heard muttering and clicking tongues that she tried her best to ignore. Within a minute or so, she heard footsteps, light and energetic, advance on the other side of the doors. Not the footsteps of an old man, she thought. And she was right. For when the right door moved and its shadow revealed the person on the inside, the woman saw a young man, perhaps her age, with tousled black, curly hair and skin as smooth and white as the sand. The man smiled a smile that was crooked like a dead spider's leg but he otherwise had the most handsome countenance the woman had ever seen.

After a moment, the woman said, "I would like to barter for a goat."

"I know," said the man to the woman's astonishment. "I have already heard of the tragedy. The townspeople who went for their daily water at the pool saw what had been done to your goat. Come in through my home and we can look for a replacement."

The man led the woman through his simple home towards a large door at the other end that led to the yard. As she walked, the woman observed each object in the two rooms through which they had to pass and noticed that the adobe was well-kept but sparsely furnished with only a few chairs and a table or two. Not a thing adorned the walls except for several bookcases with shelves stacked with large beautiful books. She also noticed a large painting of the old goat seller that the woman remembered from long ago. The painting hung in an ornate gilded wooden frame. The old goat seller's eyes stared down on the woman as if lust filled his heart.

"Where is the old man?" she asked.

"My father," said the man, "has long since left this world. I now sell goats in his place."

The woman could not help but smile at this new knowledge. She liked this young man. Finally, they arrived at the large door at the end of the adobe and entered the yard. More than twenty goats gamboled up to the man and bleated a noisy hello and dust filled the air as the goats' hooves kicked up in excitement.

"Which do you want?" said the man as he patted one of the goats.

The woman held up her bag of cheeses and the ten pesos and said, "What quality of goat can I barter with these?"

The man laughed. "No need to barter. Choose one that you like."

The woman grew angry. "I am not a pauper. I can pay for what I need." And she held up her cheeses and ten pesos even higher to make her point more emphatically.

Realizing that he had insulted the woman, the man said, "You are right. With what you have brought, you may have that goat," and he pointed to the largest animal in the yard.

The woman looked at the goat and then back at the man. "I will take this one," she said pointing to the smallest goat that her eyes could discern from among the noisy and rambunctious herd.

"It is a deal," said the young man realizing that it was no use to argue with this strong-willed woman. "But on one condition," he added. "You must let me come and visit it each day because that one is my favorite."

The woman smiled and said, "Yes, it is a deal." She handed the man the sack of cheeses and put the ten pesos gently into his left hand. She then pulled a small rope from her belt and tied it to the little goat and left through the gate at the end of the yard. The man smiled his crooked smile as he watched the woman leave leading her new little goat by the rope. One lonely cloud cleverly found its way to the vibrant sun and the goat yard suddenly grew dark. The man laughed and went back into his adobe.

So, as they agreed in their barter, the man visited the goat every day. And each day the woman asked the young man about his life and about the town. The townspeople gossiped and wondered if the old goat seller's son could actually bring this woman to her senses so that she would move to town as a new bride. After six months of the man's visits, they did indeed marry in a large boisterous wedding at the town's large old church. The woman moved to the man's adobe bringing her little goat with her.

At first, the man and woman lived a happy life full of laughter and love and warmth. The goats sold well and eventually they added two more rooms to the adobe and put a little hut in the yard for the new maid to live in. The woman no longer made cheese and butter so she had to go to town to buy such things. Over time, she began to mingle with the townspeople on her trips to the market place and they grew to enjoy the woman's company. And the townspeople felt vindicated in their belief that the woman was now finally and truly a whole person except for one thing.

Despite a full year of sharing their wedding bed, the woman did not bear a child. The man was, at first, very patient. But in the second year of their marriage, he grew cold and slowly his anger replaced the love he once had for the woman. By the third year, anger permeated his every thought, every movement and every prayer. And the townspeople began to laugh behind his back and spread ugly gossip about him. The woman grew lonely as her husband stopped speaking to her. The man eventually stopped sleeping in their bed as well but, instead, slept on a bench in the yard with the goats.

The only joy left for the woman was her daily visit to the pool for water. She would see her little abandoned hut and remember the peaceful and full life she once led caring for her goat and making cheese and butter from the goat's rich milk. She thought about her mother who had taught her the Indian ways and songs and stories. The woman's joy vanished when she realized that she had to go back to town to her husband's house.

One morning, as she returned home from drawing water from the pool, she saw her husband in the yard speaking softly to their maid. Their bodies did not touch but she saw a familiarity between them that she recognized. The woman turned her head and went into the adobe.

In the fourth year of their marriage, the maid gave birth to a handsome boy with tousled black, curly hair. The townspeople gossiped and the maid became surly and refused to work. The woman grew even more silent and accepted her circumstances. The man gave up the charade and moved his things into the maid's hut.

One night in the fifth year of their marriage, the woman lay awake in her bed looking out her opened window. The moon lit her bedroom with the light of twenty candles. The woman thought that she had been less lonely when she lived by herself under the shadow of El Zorro. While wrestling with this truth, she suddenly noticed that the light of the moon dimmed and a dark figure of a man stood at the window. The woman remained still. She saw that the man wore a mask of a canine -- a dog, a fox, or a wolf -- she could not tell from the distance. The man slowly lifted his left leg over the windowsill and entered the room. She could hear his breath echo within the mask as he came close to the bed. The man lifted his right hand and revealed a long and shiny knife.

As the man put the knife into the woman's soft brown neck, the woman noticed that the mask was indeed that of a fox. And her mind fell back effortlessly to memories of the mountain called El Zorro and of the cool sweet water that ran down the mountain and into the pool by the hut she once lived in. And she noticed how exquisite red-brown paint shone on the mask's surface and shiny dabs of raven black glistened at the fox's eyes and nostrils. The woman listened calmly to her breath as it slowed.

And as the man slowly dug the knife deeper into the woman's neck and dragged it down towards her belly, he remembered how, long ago, the woman looked so beautiful and peaceful tending to her daily chores when she lived alone near El Zorro. The man also noticed how the knife in his hand felt remarkably similar to the night he did the same to the woman's goat all those years ago.

- Daniel A Olivas

http://www.siliconinvestor.com/stocktalk/msg.gsp?msgid=16239274&s=Fox

[ola]

Catching the Brass Ring

I was 11 years old, a boy in a magical summer of freedom; allowed to wander the enchanting streets of New Orleans LA

My friend Mario and I were drawn to the rides and entertainments offered by City Park. There were various concessions for small children such as pony rides and there was a small train that meandered through the trees and various tunnels and mountains. The train broke down often or refused to go and the driver made up elaborate stories of bridges fallen, Indians, mud slides and boilers blowing sky high.

There was a carousel. A carousel is a large circular affair with 2 or three rows of elaborately carved horses, rabbits, airplanes, unicorns, gremlins, and various fantasies which you ride as the entire production goes around and around.

The carousel is covered with paintings, color and flags waving in the breeze, music blows out across the park calling the faithful to a bright memorable day.

Mario and I heeded the call and rode the carousel to the point of friendly and familiar with the operator, a youth not much older than ourselves. On the inside circle, where the centrifugal force was not as great, the operator was able to pull a long brass lever as it passed by, thus stopping the carousel. It was a brake. He would relaease the brake after calling the faithful, and we were off!! He made a circle, collecting fares and after a really long ride, "placed" the brake.

Soon Mario and I were "helping" by placing and releasing the brake, assisting small kids on and off or holding them in place, as the Merry-Go-Round spun the fantasies of youth.

The outside edge of this circular device consisted of Horses, Unicorns and Dragons, larger than the other seats. A long pole passed from ceiling to floor through these animals. These were for adults and they sat astride with the left hand gripping the post against the centrifugal force...and with your right hand you tried to put your index finger through a stationary brass ring about the size of a silver dollar, suspended from and fed by a device outside of the moving carousel. "Catching the Brass Ring" entitled you to a free ride.

This is shooting from the hip Bird. I hope you enjoy it and thanks for recalling this story for me...never before put to paper.

O.Lafaye


ola

[PMS Witch]

They're all over...

http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/local/chi-0203080185mar08.story?coll=chi%2Dnewslocal%2Dhed

Cheers, PW.

[ola]

Yeah, that "imprinting" works too well.

I had a friend order 100 turkey eggs which she incubated getting about 90 little new born turkeys. She was sooooooo excited, continuously cooing and coddling those little turkeys for the first few days. She really got off on their recognizing her every time she showed up.

It was amazing, she would get up in the morning and they would all be on her porch. There was a terrible mess on the porch of course. They followed her everywhere, did all the chores with her, climbed in the back and front of the truck when she did. She once took them all to Safeway...caused quite a stir.

Her nickname is "Turkey" now. I grant you, she showed them how to roof the barn and had them sschitting in her vegie garden and all. "Potty trained" turkeys mind you! The neighbors she didn't like, they didn't like. When men came to call they defended her against un-wanted suitors and generally ran the farm when she went to town, herding stray cows and such, mending fence and generally taking care...but let's face it; a turkey is a turkey...she is a turkey, her truck is full of turkey feathers, she has a turkey roof on her barn, her vegies taste like turkey, the acceptable guys in her life are turkeys and everyone calls her "Hey Turkey"

Not much of a life is it?


ola

[ola]

A story

A long time ago, in a small home alongside the road, I lay asleep in bed with my wife.

It was Oregon, we were hippies, and we were poor. We had a friend Bob, staying with us.

I had been injured in a terrible accident and when the knock on the door came asking for help, I was unable to rise from the bed. I called out to Bob, "What does he want Bob?"

Some traveler had wrecked badly down the road.
"I fell asleep at the wheel" the stranger said, "truck went off the road and hit a tree. Could you help me?"

Bob had a bread van and the two took off down the road.

Many hours later Bob returned with an interesting story. Seems the stranger had almost all his wordly possessions in his truck and a trailer he was pulling. He and Bob spent all night and half the morning ferrying what was salvagable down to Winchester Bay. The wrecker got both truck and trailer and Bob assured me that they had scoured the area thoroughly.

The most interesting part was that the stranger had been ferrying his large "coi" (choi sp?) or carp, fish collection in the trailer. Large, colorful fish with huge fins....beautiful...very valuable. The entire collection was supposedly destroyed, very few were saved.

I thought a long time and insisted that Bob take me to the accident scene. There, I analyzed the sequence of events. I questioned Bob carefully and then began digging.

I realized that the trailer had dug in at the front, split open dumping the fish into the furrow and the back bumper had covered them over entirely with dirt. A small number of fish were buried alive!

I began uncovering these large beautiful fish. I immediately sent Bob back to the house for a bucket of creek water (our water supply) and my oxygen/acetylene torch and tanks. I uncovered 27 fish which we placed in the bucket. The oxygen was turned on and the torch inserted into the water.

Getting home, I thoroughly washed and rinsed the bathtub, inserted the fish and oxygen supply, turned off the light and went back to bed. No one used the bathroom for 24 hours. The cats were terrified...What in the hail is going on? they thought.

The next morning we checked the bathtub and 17 fish were alive and maintaining position in the tub.

I went out from the house to the creek and finding a wide area below a small waterfall, I began dammming up the creek with rocks and logs. I soon had a lake about the size of a car. In the center was a small island about the size of a door mat. I placed the 17 coi in the lake and for two months, no one went out there.

Then I spread the word in the small community of 80 people where we lived. On the following Sunday, my landlord George and his entire family, from old to baby...showed up asking to see the fish. They were decked out in their Sunday go to church finery and set for foolishness from us. We started towards the creek, me walking backwards, telling the story. We crept up on the little lake like thieves after chickens and peering over the edge, we saw, just under the waterfall, 11 of the most beautiful goldfish you have ever seen. Absolutely stunning!

A mere boychild (in Sunday suit and tie) complained that he couldn't see, and I scooped him up, stepped out to the island and perched there, sticking his head down just inches from the fish so he could really see them.

The word spread, people showed up (we had no phone) and I would do my act, telling the story, all of us sneaking up on the fish. The people ouuued, ahhhed, and wowieed. Great fun.

One morning I went out to have a look and a raccoon had eaten them all.

O.Lafaye





ola

[ola]

Funny stuff

I RAN ACROSS THE FOLLOWING MESSAGE ONE NIGHT:

There's a groundhog season??? man I'd love to shoot the stinking varmints myself... are you for hire?... I could hang out with Doris and you could shoot all the groundhogs you can see... am seriously considering trying the urine trick to ward them off... no I am not going to squat over the holes... will be doing the jar in the bathroom routine... maybe... I don't know... I just know I cannot have them tunneling under my deck... ah... country living.

WISHING TO HELP I REPLIED:

I have quite a deal on fresh urine, I can ship it to you overnight UPS @ $23.95 gal. plus shipping.

If interested please contact me at [e-mail] or call me (evenings) at 503-669-8713

REFLECTING FURTHER, I AMMENDED MY OFFER:

Did I forget to mention "Handling Charges"?

Handling charges are rather high since it takes two hands to handle this thing.

Things aren't simple...I mean like take accuracy...aiming for those tiny necks on the one gallon containers takes a LOT of practice!

And what about cleanliness? I know, urine is "supposed" to be sterile...I mean, do you believe that? Anything that comes out of the end of a penis is questionable.

You might think the price is high, but remember, I have had a vasectomy and them things COST.

Now as to UPS...look at the risk I am taking...if those containers get lost, I mean, what happens to urine after a few days? It turns to ammonia....RIGHT! A toxic substance...now I am in trouble with the Interstate Commerce Commission.

Getting back to "handling" this problem...do you realize how much beer I have to drink to get out a couple of gallons? I'll need a revolving zipper.

Now that I think of it, the price is now $69.95/gal.

And insurance IS necessary...what if some of it spills and I get busted as a disease spreader?

To protect myself, I have to get an AIDS test and documentation from the doctor demonstrating my negative results.

There is a lot to this...lets say $239.00/gal. OK?

Did you wash your hands ola?

ola




ola

[Anthony M]

Hear this tale read aloud

One day a Lion lay asleep in the jungle. A tiny Mouse, running about in the grass and not noticing where he was going, ran over the Lion's head and down his nose.


The Lion awoke with a loud roar, and down came his paw over the little Mouse. The great beast was about to open his huge jaws to swallow the tiny creature when "Pardon me, O King, I beg of you," cried the frightened Mouse. "If you will only forgive me this time, I shall never forget your kindness. I meant no harm and I certainly didn't want to disturb Your Majesty. If you will spare my life, perhaps I may be able to do you a good turn, too."


The Lion began to laugh, and he laughed and laughed. "How could a tiny creature like you ever do anything to help me? And he shook with laughter.


"Oh well," he shrugged, looking down at the frightened Mouse, "you're not so much of a meal anyway." He took his paw off the poor little prisoner and the Mouse quickly scampered away.


Some time after this, some hunters, trying to capture the Lion alive so they could carry him to their king, set up rope nets in the jungle. The Lion, who was hunting for some food, fell into the trap. Her roared and thrashed about trying to free himself but with every move he made, the ropes bound him tighter.


The unhappy Lion feared he could never escape, and her roared pitifully. His thunderous bellows echoed through the jungle.The tiny Mouse, scurrying about far away, heard the Lion's roars. "That may be there very Lion who once freed me," he said, remembering his promise. And he ran to see whether he could help.


Discovering the sad state the Lion was in, the Mouse said to him, "Stop, stop! You must not roar. If you make so much noise, the hunters will come and capture you . I'll get you out of this trap."


With his sharp little teeth the Mouse gnawed at the ropes until they broke. When the Lion had stepped out of the net and was free once more, the Mouse said, "Now, was I not right?"

"Thank you, good Mouse," said the Lion gently. "You did help me even though I am big and you are so little. I see now that kindness is always worth while."


Moral of the story: Even the strong sometimes need the friendship of the weak.


A. MarketFusion

[Anthony M]

Once upon a time...

a dog managed to steal a large steak from a butcher's shop, and ran into the woods to eat it in peace. On reaching the banks of a stream, he happened to see his face reflected in the water. Never for a moment thinking that he was looking at himself in the water, what he thought he saw was another dog, holding a large steak in its mouth.

Being a greedy dog, he jumped into the stream to snatch the other dog's meat. Of course, the reflection vanished and he could see no sign of dog or steak.

Only then did he realize that, when he barked to frighten the other, he had dropped his stolen meat. Unluckily for him, the current was swift and the steak had been carried away. And though the dog hunted all over, he couldn't find a trace of it. Which meant, that instead of having two steaks. He was left with nothing.


A. MarketFusion

[Anthony M]

Once upon a time

a carpenter, picked up a strange lump of wood one day while mending a table. When he began to chip it, the wood started to moan. This frightened the carpenter and he decided to get rid of it at once, so he gave it to a friend called Geppetto, who wanted to make a puppet. Geppetto, a cobbler, took his lump of wood home, thinking about the name he would give his puppet.

"I'll call him Pinocchio," he told himself. "It's a lucky name." Back in his humble basement home and workshop, Geppetto started to carve the wood. Suddenly a voice squealed:

"Ooh! That hurt!" Geppeto was astonished to find that the wood was alive. Excitedly he carved a head, hair and eyes, which immediately stared right at the cobbler. But the second Geppetto carved out the nose, it grew longer and longer, and no matter how often the cobbler cut it down to size, it just stayed a long nose. The newly cut mouth began to chuckle and when Geppetto angrily complained, the puppet stuck out his tongue at him. That was nothing, however! When the cobbler shaped the hands, they snatched the good man's wig, and the newly carved legs gave him a hearty kick. His eyes brimming with tears, Geppetto scolded the puppet.

"You naughty boy! I haven't even finished making you, yet you've no respect for your father!" Then he picked up the puppet and, a step at a time, taught him to walk. But the minute Pinocchio stood upright, he started to run about the room, with Geppetto after him, then he opened the door and dashed into the street. Now, Pinocchio ran faster than Geppetto and though the poor cobbler shouted "Stop him! Stop him!" none of the onlookers, watching in amusement, moved a finger. Luckily, a policeman heard the cobbler's shouts and strode quickly down the street. Grabbing the runaway, he handed him over to his father. "I'll box your ears," gasped Geppetto, still out of breath. Then he realized that was impossible, for in his haste to carve the puppet, he had forgotten to make his ears. Pinocchio had got a fright at being in the clutches of the police, so he apologized and Geppetto forgave his son.

Indeed, the minute they reached home, the cobbler made Pinocchio a suit out of flowered paper, a pair of bark shoes and a soft bread hat. The puppet hugged his father.

"I'd like to go to school," he said, "to become clever and help you when you're old!" Geppetto was touched by this kind thought. "I'm very grateful," he replied, "but we haven't enough money even to buy you the first reading book!" Pinocchio looked downcast, then Geppetto suddenly rose to his feet, put on his old tweed coat and went out of the house. Not long after he returned carrying a first reader, but minus his coat. It was snowing outside. "Where's your coat, father?"

"I sold it."

"Why did you sell it?"

"It kept me too warm!"

Pinocchio threw his arms round Geppetto's neck and kissed the kindly old man.

It had stopped snowing and Pinocchio set out for school with his first reading book under his arm. He was full of good intentions. "Today I want to learn to read. Tomorrow I'll learn to write and the day after to count. Then I'll earn some money and buy Geppetto a fine new coat. He deserves it, for . . ." The sudden sound of a brass band broke into the puppet's daydream and he soon forgot all about school. He ended up in a crowded square where people were clustering round a brightly colored booth.

"What's that?" he asked a boy.

"Can't you read? It's the Great Puppet Show!"

"How much do you pay to go inside?"

"Four pence.'

"Who'll give me four pence for this brand new book?" Pinocchio cried. A nearby junk seller bought the reading book and Pinocchio hurried into the booth. Poor Geppetto. His sacrifice had been quite in vain. Hardly had Pinocchio got inside, when he was seen by one of the puppets on the stage who cried out:

"There's Pinocchio! There's Pinocchio!"

"Come, along. Come up here with us. Hurrah for brother Pinocchio!" cried the puppets. Pinocchio went onstage with his new friends, while the spectators below began to mutter about uproar. Then out strode Giovanni, the puppet-master, a frightful looking man with fierce bloodshot eyes.

"What's going on here? Stop that noise! Get in line, or you'll hear about it later!"

That evening, Giovanni sat down to his meal, but when he found that more wood was needed to finish cooking his nice chunk of meat, he remembered the intruder who had upset his show.

"Come here, Pinocchio! You'll make good firewood!" The poor puppet started to weep and plead.

"Save me, father! I don't want to die . . . I don't want to die!" When Giovanni heard Pinocchio's cries, he was surprised.

"Are your parents still alive?" he asked.

"My father is, but I've never known my mother," said the puppet in a low voice. The big man's heart melted.

"It would be beastly for your father if I did throw you into the fire . . . but I must finish roasting the mutton. I'll just have to burn another puppet. Men! Bring me Harlequin, trussed!" When Pinocchio saw that another puppet was going to be burned in his place, he wept harder than ever.

"Please don't, sir! Oh, sir, please don't! Don't burn Harlequin!"

"That's enough!" boomed Giovanni in a rage. "I want my meat well cooked!"

"In that case," cried Pinocchio defiantly, rising to his feet, "burn me! It's not right that Harlequin should be burnt instead of me!" Giovanni was taken aback. "Well, well!" he said. "I've never met a puppet hero before!" Then he went on in a milder tone. "You really are a good lad. I might indeed . . ." Hope flooded Pinocchio's heart as the puppet-master stared at him, then at last the man said: "All right! I'll eat half-raw mutton tonight, but next time, somebody will find himself in a pickle." All the puppets were delighted at being saved. Giovanni asked Pinocchio to tell him the whole tale, and feeling sorry for kindhearted Geppetto, he gave the puppet five gold pieces.

"Take these to your father," he said. "Tell him to buy himself a new coat, and give him my regards." Pinocchio cheerfully left the puppet booth after thanking Giovanni for being so generous. He was hurrying homewards when he met a half-blind cat and a lame fox. He couldn't help but tell them all about his good fortune, and when the pair set eyes on the gold coins, they hatched a plot, saying to Pinocchio:

"If you would really like to please your father, you ought to take him a lot more coins. Now, we know of a magic meadow where you can sow these five coins. The next day, you will find they have become ten times as many!"

"How can that happen?" asked Pinocchio in amazement.

"I'll tell you how!" exclaimed the fox. "In the land of Owls lies a meadow known as Miracle Meadow. If you plant one gold coin in a little hole, next day you will find a whole tree dripping with gold coins!" Pinocchio drank in every word his two "friends" uttered and off they all went to the Red Shrimp Inn to drink to their meeting and future wealth.

After food and a short rest, they made plans to leave at midnight for Miracle Meadow. However, when Pinocchio was wakened by the innkeeper at the time arranged, he found that the fox and the cat had already left. All the puppet could do then was pay for the dinner, using one of his gold coins, and set off alone along the path through the woods to the magic meadow. Suddenly... "Your money or your life!" snarled two hooded bandits. Now, Pinocchio had hidden the coins under his tongue, so he could not say a word, and nothing the bandits could do would make Pinocchio tell where the coins were hidden. Still mute, even when the wicked pair tied a noose round the poor puppet's neck and pulled it tighter and tighter, Pinocchio's last thought was "Father, help me!"

Of course, the hooded bandits were the fox and the cat. "You'll hang there," they said, "till you decide to talk. We'll be back soon to see if you have changed your mind!" And away they went.

However, a fairy who lived nearby had overheard everything . . . From the castle window, the Turquoise Fairy saw a kicking puppet dangling from an oak tree in the wood. Taking pity on him, she clapped her hands three times and suddenly a hawk and a dog appeared.

"Quickly!" said the fairy to the hawk. "Fly to that oak tree and with your beak snip away the rope round the poor lad's neck!" To the dog she said: "Fetch the carriage and gently bring him to me!" In no time at all, Pinocchio, looking quite dead, was lying in a cozy bed in the castle, while the fairy called three famous doctors, crow, owl and cricket. A very bitter medicine, prescribed by these three doctors quickly cured the puppet, then as she caressed him, the fairy said: "Tell me what happened!"

Pinocchio told her his story, leaving out the bit about selling his first reading book, but when the fairy asked him where the gold coins were, the puppet replied that he had lost them. In fact, they were hidden in one of his pockets. All at once, Pinocchio's nose began to stretch, while the fairy laughed.

"You've just told a lie! I know you have, because your nose is growing longer!" Blushing with shame, Pinocchio had no idea what to do with such an ungainly nose and he began to weep. However, again feeling sorry for him, the fairy clapped her hands and a flock of woodpeckers appeared to peck his nose back to its proper length.

"Now, don't tell any more lies," the fairy warned him," or your nose will grow again! Go home and take these coins to your father."

Pinocchio gratefully hugged the fairy and ran off homewards. But near the oak tree in the forest, he bumped into the cat and the fox. Breaking his promise, he foolishly let himself be talked into burying the coins in the magic meadow. Full of hope, he returned next day, but the coins had gone.

Pinocchio sadly trudged home without the coins Giovanni had given him for his father.

After scolding the puppet for his long absence, Geppetto forgave him and off he went to school. Pinocchio seemed to have calmed down a bit. But someone else was about to cross his path and lead him astray. This time, it was Carlo, the lazy bones of the class.

"Why don't you come to Toyland with me?" he said. "Nobody ever studies there and you can play all day long!"

"Does such a place really exist?" asked Pinocchio in amazement.

"The wagon comes by this evening to take me there," said Carlo. "Would you like to come?"

Forgetting all his promises to his father and the fairy, Pinocchio was again heading for trouble. Midnight struck, and the wagon arrived to pick up the two friends, along with some other lads who could hardly wait to reach a place where schoolbooks and teachers had never been heard of. Twelve pairs of donkeys pulled the wagon, and they were all shod with white leather boots. The boys clambered into the wagon. Pinocchio the most excited of them all, jumped on to a donkey. Toyland, here we come!

Now Toyland was just as Carlo had described it: the boys all had great fun and there were no lessons. You weren't even allowed to whisper the word "school", and Pinocchio could hardly believe he was able to play all the time.

"This is the life!" he said each time he met Carlo.

"I was right, wasn't I?" exclaimed his friend, pleased with himself.

"Oh, yes Carlo! Thanks to you I'm enjoying myself. And just think: teacher told me to keep well away from you."

One day, however, Pinocchio awoke to a nasty surprise. When he raised a hand to his head, he found he had sprouted a long pair of hairy ears, in place of the sketchy ears that Geppetto had never got round to finishing. And that wasn't all! The next day, they had grown longer than ever. Pinocchio shamefully pulled on a large cotton cap and went off to search for Carlo. He too was wearing a hat, pulled right down to his nose. With the same thought in their heads, the boys stared at each other, then snatching off their hats,

they began to laugh at the funny sight of long hairy ears. But as they screamed with laughter, Carlo suddenly went pale and began to stagger. "Pinocchio, help! Help!" But Pinocchio himself was stumbling about and he burst into tears. For their faces were growing into the shape of a donkey's head and they felt themselves go down on all fours. Pinocchio and Carlo were turning into a pair of donkeys. And when they tried to groan with fear, they brayed loudly instead. When the Toyland wagon driver heard the braying of his new donkeys, he rubbed his hands in glee. "There are two fine new donkeys to take to market. I'll get at least four gold pieces for them!" For such was the awful fate that awaited naughty little boys that played truant from school to spend all their time playing games.

Carlo was sold to a farmer, and a circus man bought Pinocchio to teach him to do tricks like his other performing animals. It was a hard life for a donkey! Nothing to eat but hay, and when that was gone, nothing but straw. And the beatings! Pinocchio was beaten every day till he had mastered the difficult circus tricks. One day, as he was jumping through the hoop, he stumbled and went lame. The circus man called the stable boy.

"A lame donkey is no use to me," he said. "Take it to market and get rid of it at any price!" But nobody wanted to buy a useless donkey. Then along came a little man who said: "I'll take it for the skin. It will make a good drum for the village band!"

And so, for a few pennies, Pinocchio changed hands and he brayed sorrowfully when he heard what his awful fate was to be. The puppet's new owner led him to the edge of the sea, tied a large stone to his neck, and a long rope round Pinocchio's legs and pushed him into the water. Clutching the end of the rope, the man sat down to wait for Pinocchio to drown. Then he would flay off the donkey's skin.

Pinocchio struggled for breath at the bottom of the sea, and in a flash, remembered all the bother he had given Geppetto, his broken promises too, and he called on the fairy.

The fairy heard Pinocchio's call and when she saw he was about to drown, she sent a shoal of big fish. They ate away all the donkey flesh, leaving the wooden Pinocchio. Just then, as the fish stopped nibbling, Pinocchio felt himself hauled out of the water. And the man gaped in astonishment at the living puppet, twisting and turning like an eel, which appeared in place of the dead donkey. When he recovered his wits, he babbled, almost in tears: "Where's the donkey I threw into the sea?" "I'm that donkey", giggled Pinocchio.

"You!" gasped the man. "Don't try pulling my leg. If I get angry . . ." However, Pinocchio told the man the whole story . . . "and that's how you come to have a live puppet on the end of the rope instead of a dead donkey!" "I don't give a whit for your story," shouted the man in a rage. "All I know is that I paid twenty coins for you and I want my money back! Since there's no donkey, I'll take you to market and sell you as firewood!" By then free of the rope, Pinocchio made a face at the man and dived into the sea. Thankful to be a wooden puppet again, Pinocchio swam happily out to sea and was soon just a dot on the horizon. But his adventures were far from over. Out of the water behind him loomed a terrible giant shark! A horrified Pinocchio saw its wide open jaws and tried to swim away as fast as he could, but the monster only glided closer. Then the puppet tried to escape by going in the other direction, but in vain. He could never escape the shark, for as the water rushed into its cavern-like mouth, he was sucked in with it. And in an instant Pinocchio had been swallowed along with shoals of fish unlucky enough to be in the fierce creature's path. Down he went, tossed in the torrent of water as it poured down the shark's throat, till he felt dizzy. When Pinocchio came to his senses, he was in darkness. Over his head, he could hear the loud heave of the shark's gills. On his hands and knees, the puppet crept down what felt like a sloping path, crying as he went:

"Help! Help! Won't anybody save me?" Suddenly, he noticed a pale light and, as he crept towards it, he saw it was a flame in the distance. On he went, till: "Father! It can't be you! . . ."

"Pinocchio! Son! It really is you . . ."

Weeping for joy, they hugged each other and, between sobs, told their adventures. Geppetto stroked the puppet's head and told him how he came to be in the shark's stomach.

"I was looking for you everywhere. When I couldn't find you on dry land, I made a boat to search for you on the sea. But the boat capsized in a storm, then the shark gulped me down. Luckily, it also swallowed bits of ships wrecked in the tempest, so I've managed to survive by getting what I could from these!"

"Well, we're still alive!" remarked Pinocchio, when they had finished recounting their adventures. "We must get out of here!" Taking Geppetto's hand, the pair started to climb up the shark's stomach, using a candle to light their way. When they got as far as its jaws, they took fright, but as so happened, this shark slept with its mouth open, for it suffered from asthma.

As luck would have it, the shark had been basking in shallow waters since the day before, and Pinocchio soon reached the beach. Dawn was just breaking, and Geppetto, soaked to the skin, was half dead with cold and fright.

"Lean on me, father." said Pinocchio. "I don't know where we are, but we'll soon find our way home!"

Beside the sands stood an old hut made of branches, and there they took shelter. Geppetto was running a temperature, but Pinocchio went out, saying, "I'm going to get you some milk." The bleating of goats led the puppet in the right direction, and he soon came upon a farmer. Of course, he had no money to pay for the milk. "My donkey's dead," said the farmer. "If you work the treadmill from dawn to noon, then you can have some milk." And so, for days on end, Pinocchio rose early each morning to earn Geppetto's food.

At long last, Pinocchio and Geppetto reached home. The puppet worked late into the night weaving reed baskets to make money for his father and himself.

One day, he heard that the fairy after a wave of bad luck was ill in hospital. So instead of buying himself a new suit of clothes, Pinocchio sent the fairy the money to pay for her treatment.

One night, in a wonderful dream, the fairy appeared to reward Pinocchio for his kindness. When the puppet looked in the mirror next morning, he found he had turned into somebody else. For there in the mirror, was a handsome young lad with blue eyes and brown hair. Geppetto hugged him happily. "Where's the old wooden Pinocchio?" the young lad asked in astonishment.

"There!" exclaimed Geppetto, pointing at him. "When bad boys become good, their looks change along with their lives!"


A. MarketFusion

[Anthony M]

Once upon a time

in Ancient Greece lived a young man called Narcissus, who was greatly admired, for he was very handsome. Narcissus was very proud of his perfect face and graceful body, and never lost the chance to look at his reflection in any sheet of water he happened to pass.

He would lie for hours admiring his gleaming dark eyes, slender nose, slim hips and the mop of curly hair that crowned the perfect oval of his face. You would think a sculptor had come down from heaven to carve such a faultless body as a living image of mankind's love of beauty.

One day, Narcissus was walking close to a precipice where the clear waters of a cold mountain pool mirrored his beautiful face. "You are handsome, Narcissus!" he told himself as he bent down to admire his reflection. "There's nobody so handsome in the whole world! I'd love to kiss you."

Narcissus was suddenly seized by the desire to kiss his own reflection and he leant closer to the water. But he lost his balance and toppled into the pool. Narcissus could not swim and so he drowned. But when the gods discovered that the most beautiful being on earth had died, they decided that such beauty could not be forgotten.

The gods turned Narcissus into a scented flower which, to this day, blossoms in the mountains in spring, and which is still called Narcissus.


A. MarketFusion

[JXM]

Posted by: Anthony M-Fusion
Date: 5/24/2001 11:53:30 PM (ET)
Post # of 3324

I am not sure how many have been waiting for this, but here goes.


The alias on Raging Bull I began with, primarily posting on one stock, National Boston Medical (NBMM(X)), was mrdoc. I may have posted on other threads, but over 90% of the post we dedicated to NBM.
The reason, very simple: I believed in the Bontempi Medical Instruments that I had began using a few years prior.
NMBX, at the time had acquired the USA distribution, and I believed that the product was great and had a chance for big success. Well, Management at the time was not competent. Since July of 1999, to the present, I have stuck with that company, and am currently employed by them in Business Development. I practice dentistry only a few hours a week.
IHub came into the picture in late 2000. I immediately began a thread for NBM and continued with my alias, mrdoc. I had only posted under mrdoc on IHub for a little while. When, NBM was engaging me on a full time basis and I began chatting with Matt, I decided to stop posting on IHub.

TO SET THE RECORD STRAIGHT, I have NOT posted for any personal reasons (other than Anthony M-Fusion) on IHub under any other aliases.

There was a business decision, that Matt (President of InvestorsHub), Bob (Operations Manager for InvestorsHub), the corporate Attorney and I unanimously agreed upon. I was to register an alias, to ask Bob questions about policies and test his abilities to respond. With Bob’s consent, I went ahead and registered an alias and began asking questions and addressing points that needed discussing about threads, Personal vs. Public.
To make a long story short, when a thread began, and I followed strict interpretations of policies under discussions, Bob and Matt, asked if I was the new poster. I acknowledged. We then discussed the choices. The powers and authority of neither Matt nor Bob were ever questioned or threatened. I explained the logic I used, agreed or not, Bob had full power and authority to restore or delete any posts on that thread. It continued, another, meeting was called. Bob explain his unease of the situation. We all agreed it would be best to stop using the alias, which was immediately terminated.

The person that was the directly involved in the thread (merely by accident, star-crossed I believe!) has been called and explained how the situation evolved. I apologized to the poster for having been put in the compromising situation. I clearly had no intent of confronting anyone. The reason was corporate to evaluate the policies being discussed.
NEVER was it my intent, nor that of InvestorsHub to mislead any members.

I do apologize for this situation. I do not fully understand the reasons of Bob’s departure, NOR do I want the discussions public. I did register this current alias to clearly be in public view. I wanted to show support for what Matt had done so far. I do acknowledge that this site still has further development, and I believe that with everyone’s constructive input we can make this a great community.

The alias was Kurious-Kat.

Thank you for you understanding.


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hope I answered everyone's questions.
I may follow up with a few responses, but will be very limited.
Thanks again.


A. MarketFusion


http://www.investorshub.com/boards/read_msg.asp?message_id=113734

[JXM]

Posted by: Anthony M-Fusion
Date: 5/24/2001 9:50:58 AM (ET)
Post # of 3165

JUST A STORY....

I would like to tell a story.


"The Mystery Shopper"
(As told to a recent acquaintance)



One day, the decision makers of a little growing company had different views on certain corporate policies. They gathered in conference to see how this might be addressed. They had several viewpoints that seemed to be valid, but they were not sure exactly the effects of the policies and the enforcement thereof. After debating the different views, the parties all agreed that they should address the issue head on, and review the results before any final policy decisions were made.
The outcome of this very important meeting was a very simple one. Let’s send out a Mystery Shopper, and evaluate how our company is doing. The members of that meeting unanimously agreed that a Mystery Shopper was going to be sent out to the place of business of the corporation, and evaluate by simulating different experiences. This would see if the staff and the “Rules and Regulations” were well structured and capable to handle the public’s response.
As the Mystery Shopper arrived to the place of business, this new consumer was being very difficult and annoying, attempting to judge the reaction of the staff of this enterprise. Many situations were simulated. As it became evident that this Mystery Shopper may be annoying too many individuals, the decision makers reunited for a discussion of the Mystery Shopper’s actions. Policies and opinions were once again discussed. None of the staff’s responsibilities were changed. They agreed to let things play out and continue the marketing experience, to investigate the outcomes. They felt that this would help in the policy-making decisions.
As events on the Mystery Shopper unfolded, and staff was now aware on this individual, and seemed to be getting to disruptive for the on going business of the company, once again there was a meeting of the minds. They all agreed that the Mystery Shopper’s duties will be terminated, and assess the problems with the current policies that were in place and develop new ones to handle this.


To be continued...

***************************************

I would like to ask people what they think of this story. I am aware that many corporations have similar methods to evaluate their employees, and I feel it’s the true way to see if what they claim to the public, can be done. An example of this, is McDonalds, they may send individuals to different restaurants they own to evaluate their system and level of service and implement changes to their practices.

Are they misleading individuals? Or are they just testing and evaluating themselves?

***************************************
Please do not misinterpret or extrapolate anything other than a story to discuss, if these practice are appropriate.

I am just curious to find out!


A. MarketFusion


http://www.investorshub.com/boards/read_msg.asp?message_id=112770