tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46800772094002403162024-02-08T05:24:13.849-08:00Cell-Lit: Sixty Second Stories for your phoneSixty Second Stories with a punch. Literature for the busy life. William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-25303852682348383882017-06-30T13:18:00.000-07:002017-06-30T13:18:16.458-07:00Early Riser <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We always saw Kathy leaving early. She would be walking down the sidewalk at five AM. She was German and made sure everyone went to church every Sunday. They had a nanny who watched her two boys and Kathy always said Gert, that was really her name, was great. When Kathy became a partner in the firm she stayed late at work and sometimes worked through the weekends. She made senior partner and nobody saw her for a while. Then we moved.<br />
<br />
My boys hate me. That's what she said when we got together years later. Her boys both went off to college on the West coast and rarely came back. What do you mean I asked. They hate me. They do. They tell me that all the time. Kathy and John seemed to have it all. They both were successful lawyers and still lived in the city. We had moved to the far suburbs and were always broke but our kids didn't hate us.<br />
<br />
Then we heard John had an affair. He left for a woman who looked just like Kathy. The story was he did it over pizza one Friday night. Kathy moved to the city in a condo that looked over the lake. Her boys didn't come home for mothers day and my wife said they didn't even send a card. Maybe they did hate her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com59tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-60270830343477312062017-06-29T11:23:00.001-07:002017-06-29T11:23:57.904-07:00Empty Nesters <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jan and Rob always worked on their home. When we moved in Rob helped me with the swing set. That was twelve years ago. We didn't talk much after that but we didn't talk to many our neighbors. Rob was a dentist and always worked in his yard on Thursdays. I would see him out there on his tractor and Jan would be bent over some plant. They had the nicest yard and the nicest house and they always worked don it twenty four seven. Then one day a For Sale sign appeared.<br />
<br />
I bet something happened my wife said. It took about a year before they sold their house. Every Thursday rob would cut his grass but he was getting skinnier. his bony knees stuck up and now he had a jaw line. We figured something happened and that made them want to sell. But then i saw Jan. Oh no we just got tired of working on the house she said. We want to move in closer to the city where we can walk to coffee shops. We all wanted that.<br />
<br />
So anyway, they moved. I kind of miss Rob on his tractor on Thursdays. My swing set is old and probably should be burned now. Kids are gone. Last I heard, Rob died of leukemia. a year after he moved. I don't know, maybe he got to walk to a coffee shop a couple of times.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">william hazelgrove </a><br />
<br /></div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-19442592138366700862016-09-16T09:05:00.000-07:002016-09-16T09:05:12.505-07:00Homecoming<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jerry walked with his daughter to the homecoming game.<br />
Come on hurry up.<br />
I don't want to go.<br />
His daughter had just turned twelve and recently started junior high school. She didn't want a ride anymore to school. That was his time with her and they would talk about the day. Now she wanted to ride the bus with her friends. But the homecoming game at the high school seemed like something they could do together.<br />
Come on it will be fun.<br />
His daughter stared in fear at the other kids. She was there with her dad. Jerry noticed the boys all around and Cindy looked like she wanted to melt into the ground.<br />
Don't worry about them...we can stand at the end of the field and watch. Cindy pulled her hat low and slowed down even more. At this rate they wouldn't see the kickoff. Jerry stopped.<br />
Look. I'm going to go ahead and watch the kickoff. You stay here by the fence.<br />
Cindy just stared at him.<br />
Ok?<br />
Ok she muttered<br />
Jerry took off. He was heading back to homecoming. He had played high school football and this was a good old fashioned Midwestern homecoming game with cheerleaders and the band and now the team coming out in a cloud of smoke. Jerry watched the cheerleaders begin their routine and saw the jazzed players tearing for the goal line. He remembered that. He remembered being seventeen and feeling the glory of the game. It was all in front of him. He felt the old nirvana of youth settle on him. He remembered Cindy and looked back. She was gone.<br />
Oh shit.<br />
Jerry hurried to where he had left her. Nowhere. He couldn't find her her. He frantically ran for the gate.<br />
Have you seen a little girl with a white hat?<br />
The ticket lady shook her head.<br />
Jerry turned frantically.<br />
Dad?<br />
He turned around. He saw Cindy's hat behind a pine tree.<br />
Where did you go?<br />
She sniffed and he saw she had been crying.<br />
Can we go home now?<br />
Jerry turned back to the game. The kickoff sailed high and he watched the home team return. A night at the homecoming game vanished. It was gone. Just like that.<br />
Sure.<br />
They walked back in the darkess and got in the car. They went for ice cream and sat outside in some adirondak chairs. The next weekned Cindy went to the game with her girlfiend.<br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-32448034425167103942016-05-25T08:46:00.000-07:002016-05-25T08:46:18.825-07:00Breaking Out <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I'm going for a drive!<br />
Where are you going?<br />
I dont know. I just have to get out of here.<br />
George went out the door and got in his Versa. He put the car in gear and shot into the warm darkness. Kids. Money. Family. It was all coming down on him. And worse he worked at home so like a lot of people he could never get away from his problems.<br />
But he was free now. He was out. He jammed the stick shift through the gears with the radio blaring. The empty road flared up and then he saw lights. He should go to a bar and get drunk. He should go to a strip joint and pay for a lap dance. He saw Dairy Queen and turned the car into the drive through.<br />
What can I get you?<br />
George stared at the lit marquis. What will it be? A shot of whiskey. A cigar.<br />
Ill take a malt.<br />
What size.<br />
George paused. Fuck it.<br />
A large!<br />
Please pull around.<br />
George pulled the car around and a pimply faced kid met him at the window.<br />
That will be 4.19<br />
George handed him the credit car. Expensive but you know what, fuck it!<br />
The kid came back with his malt and a receipt.<br />
George zoomed into the parking lot and parked among minivan moms and baseball dads. Some Little League game had let out. George dove into his large malt. Yeah he had a cholesterol problem. You know what, fuck it! He ate the whipped cream, the cherry, then he sucked up the chocolate malt like a man on a mission. His throat numbed out and the sugar buzz came on like a veil. George sat slumped down in his 12,000 dollar car in the suburban parking lot. <br />
Yeah baby. He was out. Fuck it. Maybe he would get another malt. Maybe a hot dog. That would show them. Nitrates, pig guts, carcinogens. He drove home and left the empty malt cup the car. Fuck it. He was a man . He would not take this shit.He would drink malts and eat hot dogs and screw women if he felt like it. HE WAS A MAN.<br />
He went in the house and saw his wife.<br />
Oh hi.<br />
I came back he declared.<br />
Cindy stared at him and shrugged.<br />
Oh...I didnt know you left,..I thought you were in your office.<br />
No...I went out!<br />
Cindy looked at him.<br />
Can you take out the garbage?<br />
George stared at her defiantly, thinking of the malt cup she would find in her car in the morning.<br />
Sure. </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-50048790699920645082016-03-29T09:02:00.003-07:002016-03-29T09:02:24.603-07:00Grief <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Nobody saw John and Georgia for a long time. They had all been in the city together for thirty years before age had wrecked most of them. When Georgia died Randy got the news while ordering a Big Mac in a drive thru. He probably hadn't seen Georgia and John for over a year and now they were going to a funeral in the burbs. They didn't have kids and there had been rumors that something wasn't quite right with John. Someone said he was a drunk.<br />
Hey man thanks for coming.<br />
Randy hugged John and remembered doing a loan for him five years before. They had sat in Johns immaculate house with their three cats and three litter boxes. Georgia was a clean freak and John was anal and the house looked not lived in at all.<br />
How are you doing John?<br />
Oh you know man. Day by day.<br />
Johns face was bright red and Randy couldn't help but wondering if he was back on the sauce. At parties Georgia and Johnnever stayed long. Georgia got drunk fast and John would always say yeah man Georgia has had enough .They were both heavy smokers.<br />
After the funeral they got together a few weeks later at a pizzeria. There were fifty big screens blasting out sports. John was there with a very old woman. The rap was she had been taking care of John. His face was even more red.<br />
Randy here is like Ernest Hemingway, a writer.<br />
The woman Betty smiled and had no idea what John had said. They left early when John was too drunk to stand and six months later John married Betty.<br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com<br />
<br /></div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-58891760136228218222016-03-14T09:54:00.000-07:002016-03-14T09:54:28.568-07:00The Obnoxious Woman <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My kids are all teasing me that I'm going to be fifty.<br />
Oh really.<br />
Aren't you like fifty six?<br />
Oh yes. Terrible isn't it.<br />
Well yeah.You are getting old. That's why I'm using this new cream on my face.<br />
Oh<br />
You notice it is red.<br />
Well yes<br />
Well it says it takes off the top layer.<br />
You do look younger.<br />
I know. I look young for my age. Everyone says I look forty.<br />
You do.<br />
I know. John is losing his hair and I tell him hey buddy maybe its time to stop the comb over.<br />
Ha ha.<br />
Your husband is bald isn't he?<br />
Well..no. his hair is receding<br />
Hes bald. That's what John said and I said John your hair isn't receding your bald.<br />
Oh....well I guess--<br />
I mean if we didn't have kids I guess we could be in spas and traveling.<br />
Maybe.<br />
Oh yeah my girlfriends all travel the world. Their husbands are brokers but no kids. They weren't stupid like you and me.<br />
I like my kids.<br />
Oh come on . Would we do it again knowing what we know now?<br />
I think so--<br />
No we wouldn't. Its like taxes. We should just tell the government to fuck off. I mean I live on a lake and five acres but its in the middle of nowhere.<br />
Hmm.<br />
But you know what, life sucks then you die.<br />
Ah....<br />
Hey its been great. Gotta get to Sams Club. They are having a special on Spam Surprise.<br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-81507024930349376332016-02-09T08:37:00.000-08:002016-02-09T08:37:45.275-08:00Obesity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
John liked to sit in the corner at Starbucks. He could curl up against the wall and the chatter of housewives and businessmen didn't bother him as much. He was thinking of leaving when a very large woman sat down next to him. John concentrated on his writing but then the cheesy popcorn bag opened. The woman took off her glasses and slowly savored her cheesy popcorn. She was so big she had to push the table out in the aisle. John tried to ignore the crinkling bag and the wafting aroma of chemical cheese.<br />
Hello.<br />
Fuck. She's on the phone.<br />
Oh no. I am sticking to my diet. I am only having a bag of cheesy popcorn.<br />
John tried not to listen and redoubled his concentration.<br />
Well I have to eat something....it says for sodium it is only twenty percent of the daily allowance.<br />
The words had frozen out the screen. The putrid cheese scent of chemical popcorn was overwhelming.<br />
Well I am only having bean soup and ham tonight.<br />
The crinkling bag was extremely loud.<br />
Well I have to eat something...fine. I wont eat cheesy popcorn. I promise...I know what the doctor said. I will never eat it again.<br />
She hung up the phone and continued to eat. John could not help but watch how she slowly brought each piece to her mouth and slowly chewed. The bag was now empty and she folded it up. She sat staring and then stood up. John managed to get back to his writing. He was hard at work again and lost in his prose when the rotten egg gas wafted over again. The crinkling bag broke his concentration forever. The new bag of cheesy popcorn floated beneath her mouth. The woman stared at him then shrugged in defeat.<br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-1374696658695935482016-01-26T14:36:00.000-08:002016-01-26T14:37:34.471-08:00Stealing Salt <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The bags were outside the Ace stacked on wooden pallets. Toby didn't have the cash on him and going into the Jewel to buy the water softener salt seemed like a hassle. But mostly he didn't have the money. He was a writer with a family and had just put his last ten bucks in the tank and now he didn't have any money to break the hard water ruining their clothes and tearing off the upper layer of their skin. Taking a shower had become like being pelted with bricks.<br />
<br />
But the salt was right there. Toby looked around. He was in his fifties and still felt like a thirty something and yet he was this father of two and husband of one contemplating stealing. But he had done it before. In fact stealing salt had been going on since his family found their way into the lower middle class after the crash. But he owned a home and fathers did not go around stealing salt but there it was.<br />
<br />
Toby looked around. No cops. He lived in a far western suburb of Chicago and the cops were busy with teenagers smoking pot in parking lots. No. The coast was clear. Toby pulled up his SUV and bailed out like a commando. He threw open the hatch and grabbed the forty pound bag of salt and threw it in the back. He looked up once and saw the surveillance camera.<br />
<br />
Fuck!<br />
It was too late now. He had to just hope his plates didn't show. He jumped in the truck and threw it into gear when a squad car turned the corner. He felt perspiration sting his body as the police car cruised past him and turned out of the parking lot. Toby drove to the parking lot and parked between two cars and turned off the lights. He watched the prowling squad car go by on the highway. Toby started the car and took the back roads home.<br />
<br />
When he lugged the salt in his wife looked up from the couch.<br />
"I hope you got a good deal."'<br />
Toby wiped his brow and nodded.<br />
"It was on sale."<br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com<br />
<br /></div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-25113212837584932452015-11-30T20:45:00.001-08:002015-11-30T20:45:43.221-08:00The Other Woman<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When Jack and Monica broke up everyone wondered who the other woman was. Was she a twenty something or was she older with kids. Nobody knew. All anyone knew was that on one Friday night Jack came home on their twenty fifth wedding anniversary and said he wanted a divorce and that he was seeing someone. Months passed before Cindy and Jim saw Jack again. They were downtown on State Street when he saw Jack walking toward him. He thought about acting like he didn't see Jack but then Cindy waved.<br />
Jack looked up and that was when Jim saw the woman on his arm. She looked to be in her forties. They made awkward small talk and then they were gone.<br />
Can you believe he left Monica for her Cindy exclaimed as they drove home.<br />
No...did you think-<br />
Yes. A dead ringer for Monica.<br />
Jim looked out the window. It was true. The woman looked just like Monica. Maybe a little younger but in essence it was Monica.<br />
I wonder why he left her.<br />
Who knows why men do anything Cindy grumbled. <br />
Jim rolled his shoudlers. <br />
I mean she wasn't like some young hottie.<br />
His wife turned to him and glared. <br />
I hate men. They all judge woman the same. If she had been hot then it would have been alright but because she is older and looks like Monica then you want to know why.<br />
Jim sighed.<br />
That's not what I meant.<br />
Sure. Men are all pigs that way.<br />
Jim frowned.<br />
He had been married twenty five years. It was a dangerous time. Kids leaving. People getting older. Re evaluation. Everyone thought about it. Just start over with someone else. Maybe Jack just had the guts to do it. <br />
Jim looked at his wife and shrugged. <br />
I mean maybe they were having problems...it's funny, Jack said he and Monica never fought. <br />
He paused, titlting his head .<br />
Maybe he just wanted someone different. <br />
Cindy shook her head and stared out the window.<br />
Men are pigs. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-17913184947992717912015-11-25T06:12:00.001-08:002015-11-25T08:01:01.802-08:00Terrorism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
John and Michelle moved from the city after 9/11. They felt vulnerable with their kids and moved forty miles West of Chicago. John hated living in the ex urb and counted the years as his kids got older. When his son graduated high school they put the house on the market to move back. Then the Paris attack hit. <br />
I'm so glad we live in the country," his eleven year old daughter said one day. <br />
Whys that?<br />
Because we wont get bombed.<br />
John looked up the statistics. He had one chance in five million to be killed in a terrorist attack. Driving a car was much more dangerous. Being out in a lightning storm was more dangerous. Taking a piss was more dangerous. <br />
We will be safe in the city he told his daughter. <br />
They went downtown for the lighting of the Christmas tree. There were police everywhere. Four helicopters hovered overhead. The crowd was enormous. John saw some people with a banner, BLACK LIVES MATTER. <br />
I want to go home his daughter said, looking scared.<br />
John and Michelle exchanged glances. <br />
Why honey?<br />
Because I'm scared<br />
John remembered 9/11 then. He remembered taping up his doors for a chemical attack. He remembered not getting the mail out of fear of anthrax. He remembered stock piling water and food. <br />
They will light the tree soon his wife said.<br />
No I want to go home now..<br />
His daughter began to cry as the giant tree suddenly lit. Fireworks exploded directly overhead. Rockets flew into the sky. Smoke filled the air. The helicopters remained overhead. <br />
Isnt the tree pretty?<br />
I want to go home!<br />
Look at the fireworks John told her.<br />
She began to cry. Michelle and John stared at each other in the red glow of the fireworks. They stared the way they had when they got the realtor fifteen years before. The way they did when they took the house off the market. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-29622154511785395492015-09-02T16:17:00.003-07:002015-09-02T16:17:43.776-07:00Guido <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before the crash Johns neighborhood was full of guys with dark slicked hair with tattoos who bought million dollar homes and then lost them when their no money down houses lost all their value. Jimmy Rocco lived next door to John and sometimes he made fun of John from his Hummer when he was biking. When he was going up a hill Jimmy Rocco would pump his fists like he was getting tired. He was married to some woman who had won a beauty pageant in some third world country.<br />
<br />
And then Jimmy Rocco lost his house and John never saw him again. Ten year later he was in the grocery store and he noticed the Fifteen Items line was backed up. Everyone looked pissed off and John stared at the items on the conveyor belt. There was at least twenty five. He then looked up at the man standing with his head slightly down with hair greased back. His hair had turned gray and for a minute John didn't recognize Jimmy Rocco.<br />
<br />
But there he was. Standing in the Fifteen Item line and John just said it.<br />
Hey...that looks like its more than fifteen items.<br />
Jimmy Rocco looked up and John could tell he didn't recognize him.<br />
It's fifteen he said shrugging.<br />
No its not John said looking at the other people in line.<br />
Jimmy Rocco shrugged again.<br />
Whats your problem pal.<br />
He's right you got like twenty some items an old man said in front of John.<br />
A woman with circles under her eyes shook her head.<br />
I cant stand people who think they are above the rules<br />
<br />
Jimmy Rocco stared down with his neck turning pink.<br />
I think you should go to the back of the line John said.<br />
I do too the old man said.<br />
Jimmy glared at John with pure hate<br />
Fuck it he muttered and then walked out and left his items on the conveyor.<br />
John never saw him again, He heard from a man years later that Jimmy Rocco drove around a truck that looked like a hot dog during lunch hour. <br />
<br />
www.williamhazelgrove.com </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-86090804026420932102015-08-26T07:35:00.001-07:002015-08-26T07:35:45.514-07:00Breakfast Club<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Every day John drove by the three women at the bus stop. He envied them because they always talked every morning while he had to face his computer. They had never really spoke except the one woman Beth. The other two had just moved in and he would pass and wave with his daughter every morning on the way to school. He began to think about saying something. <br />
In truth he wouldn't mind being part of their breakfast club. He needed the interaction. He was the lonely writer in the suburbs working on two books he had to have to the publisher by the years end. <br />
<br />
So one day he dropped off his daughter and decided to say something. A quip. Something to break the ice and bring him into the club. He put down his far window and readied himself. He would be the witty writer who would make the women laugh, then they might all start talking. Who knows, he might start coming up to the bus stop to chat and become a member of the breakfast club. They weren't bad looking women. <br />
<br />
But now he was on his game. He saw the women and made sure he had his sunglasses on his head and checked himself in the mirror. He slowed down and the two women turned. <br />
<br />
Hey, you guys need to call your group something.<br />
There was only two of them today. They laughed. <br />
We should we should<br />
How about the breakfast club?<br />
Oh that's good that's good.<br />
Yeah. Great movie. I'm john by the way. <br />
Kate the new woman said. <br />
<br />
John motioned behind him...what is the other woman's name?<br />
Kate leaned toward him and frowned. <br />
What? What did you say?<br />
<br />
I said... what was the other woman's name?<br />
Oh that's Liz.<br />
John then stared at the women. They stared at him. <br />
Well carry on he said stupidly. <br />
He then drove away and pulled into his garage. He went to his office and shut the door. The next day John drove by and waved and the women waved back. He never stopped again. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-59857788411933770492015-04-08T09:46:00.001-07:002015-04-08T09:46:13.176-07:00Talking in Class<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Jerry had enough. He didn't care if the students followed along with the reading but it really irritates him that they talked during the reading. He was an adjunct and didn't feel like he should be babysitting and usually he would let it go but they just kept talking. Fuck it. <br />
Hey!<br />
The two students looked up. The guy never brought his book and mostly just stared at the floor or talked to the girl who kept her phone on and surfed. It was early and Monday and just then Jerry didn't give a shit anymore.<br />
You two want to shut the fuck up.<br />
They looked up at him shocked. They were freshman at an upscale private college. <br />
I don't give a fuck if you don't do the reading or surf during class. But I do care if you talk. If you want to keep talking then get the fuck out of my class otherwise shut the fuck up. <br />
The entire class was silent and staring. A Street Car Named Desire had taken a back seat to real drama. The girl had turned red and the boy was now staring down at the floor with his BULLS hat pulled low. Jerry turned back to the girl who had been reading. <br />
Please continue.<br />
The class ended ten minutes later and the boy and girl ran out of the class. Later that day he received an email from the chairman.<br />
Please seem me regarding a formal complaint. <br />
The next day Jerry walked into the Dans office. They had only talked once when he was hired and like most adjunct jobs he never saw the chairman again. <br />
Have a seat Jerry.<br />
Dan picked up a piece of paper.<br />
I have a formal complaint lodged by two students of yours. They said you swore at them in class.<br />
Well...yes. They had been talking in class.<br />
Dan leaned back. There had been an open position and Dan never mentioned it. A permanent one and Jerry felt Dan had not even considered him. <br />
You can't swear at students Jerry.<br />
Oh...ok.<br />
Dan paused.<br />
You will have to apologize to the two students. <br />
Or...<br />
Or we will have to make a change. <br />
Jerry stared at the chairman<br />
You're going to fire me?<br />
I would have no choice.<br />
The job only paid twenty four hundred bucks. It wasn't enough. <br />
You know what Dan--<br />
She's my daughter. <br />
Jerry apologized to the two students in the hallway the next day. They dropped the class the next week and said Jerry was a REAL PRICK on Ratemyproffessor.com. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
<br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-39072871710668595272015-04-07T09:11:00.002-07:002015-04-07T09:14:30.291-07:00Portion Control <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yeah I don't know what I'm going to do they are upping the prices on flour and sauce and everything.<br />
John looked at AL of AL's Pizzeria. He had stopped to chat after he picked up his pizza. It was a good stress reliever standing in the pizzeria after a long day shooting the shit with a guy in an apron. <br />
Well I'm sure people will still come if you keep the quality up. <br />
Maybe...but I might have to raise prices.<br />
John went to his car and drove home . A week later he called to order a pizza and a snippy woman on the phone answered.<br />
Yes. Id like no cheese on the pizza.<br />
No cheese...whadaya mean?<br />
My wife and I don't like cheese on the pizza but we would like extra sauce<br />
That will cost you extra.<br />
Well...I'm not having cheese....cant you swap one for another.<br />
No. I cant. And the veggies are going to cost you extra too. <br />
Ok fine.<br />
John put his order in and then thirty minutes later he picked up his pizza. The owner AL wasn't there. The dark haired woman from the phone gave him his pizza.<br />
That will be twenty eight dollars.<br />
Wow...<br />
Yeah. We had to increase our prices she said taking his credit car.<br />
John drove home and brought the pizza inside. He opened the box and stared.<br />
What the fuck!<br />
His wife came up and stared. <br />
What did they do?<br />
The pizza was thin like a cracker with barely any sauce and a few veggies.<br />
I know what he did. He cranked up his prices and cut back on his ingredients.<br />
John dialed up the pizzeria. The woman answered.<br />
Yes. I just picked up my pizza and it looks horrible. It is thin with very little sauce and practically no veggies.<br />
Yeah so. We always put the same amount on.<br />
But this is terrible and you increased the price...I want to talk to AL.<br />
Sure.<br />
The phone went dead.<br />
May I help you.<br />
Yeah Al. It's John. We just got our pizza and its razor thin with nothing on it and you charged me more.<br />
Yeah. I told you I was getting screwed by my suppliers. <br />
But you are screwing your customers John cried out.<br />
Hey. Its portion controlled. And you know I always take time out and talk to you when you come in when I could be doing my work. So just look at it like you are paying for my time.<br />
What! Are you crazy! I was just shooting the shit with you!<br />
Yeah. Well shoot it somewhere else then. <br />
The phone went dead. John hung it up slowly. He looked at the pizza. <br />
What did he say?<br />
He said it was portion controlled. He paused and looked at his wife.<br />
You know. I'm going to really miss talking to AL<br />
She stared at him.<br />
Who?<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
<br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-73343985105778033362015-04-01T14:22:00.000-07:002015-04-01T14:22:04.165-07:00Independents <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Clive saw himself as an independent but it drove him crazy when authors would stop in the store. <br />
Like this guy.<br />
Yes...I just wanted to drop off my latest novel.<br />
Clive was swamped. He had to get the new books out of the boxes and onto the shelves and he really wanted a cigarette out back before lunch. <br />
Uh...fine. You can give it to us on consignment...let me get you that form.<br />
The man who was a good twenty five years older than Clive frowned.<br />
Wait a minute. I'm not some self published newbie.<br />
Clive breathed loudly and pushed up his Ray Bans.<br />
Look...we get people in here all day long saying they are not self published and dropping off their books and you know what, they are. Otherwise I would be unpacking their books from those boxes marked Random House.<br />
The man turned red.<br />
Why you snot nosed fucker.<br />
Ok that's it. I appreciate it if you leave now Clive barked pointing to the door.<br />
The man glared at him. <br />
I got more for one fucking book than you make in a whole year.<br />
Sure you did and I'm Barack Obama... now get the fuck out of here before I call the cops. <br />
The man flipped him off. <br />
Eat shit<br />
Then he left. Clive watched him go out . He really really hated indies. They drove him crazy. He saw the book as Gerald his manger walked out. <br />
I heard some yelling. <br />
Yeah another loser wantabe author dropping off his book. And this one got hostile. He must have been about a hundred.<br />
Gerald picked up the book and raised his eyebrows. <br />
Shit. E.L. Leonard...this is the book he dropped off?<br />
Clive blinked<br />
Yeah I guess.<br />
Gerald who was about forty stared at him.<br />
He won the fucking National Book Award like ten years ago. I think he hit the list a few times and had a boatload of books coming out at one time. <br />
Oh...then I guess he wasn't lying Clive murmured, shrugging. <br />
Gerald shook his head. <br />
I wondered what had happened to him.<br />
Clive flipped his hair up.<br />
Obviously nothing...can you cover while I get a smoke? <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> <br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Jack-Pine-William-Hazelgrove-ebook/dp/B00P288OLW/ref=sr_1_3_twi_1_kin?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1427922165&sr=1-3">Jack Pine. Northwoods Thriller Kindle Sale 3.99</a></div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-35595919256767638642015-03-28T09:46:00.000-07:002015-03-28T09:49:00.818-07:00Mad Men <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
George loved Mad Men. He saw himself as one of them. He was bored at his job and thought he could do better. He told Jeb about his new job at the bar.<br />
I'm the man. I report to the CEO and no one else.<br />
That's great.<br />
Yeah...just like Mad Men dude. <br />
After that Jeb didn't see George for three months. When he did he had lost weight and looked haggard.<br />
What happened to you?<br />
Dude...my new job sucks.<br />
Why?<br />
My boss is an asshole man. He's like a workaholic and abuses the shit out of me. I've lost ten pounds and all I do is collapse at night.<br />
So what are you going to do?<br />
I'm going to look for a new job.<br />
Jeb didn't see George after that for another few months. He was very busy with the end or the term grading and student conferences anyway. After school got out he met George again at the bar.<br />
So what's going on?<br />
George looked even worse. <br />
I got fired man. <br />
You're kidding.<br />
That prick of a boss of mine said I couldn't cut it. Said I didn't have what it takes. <br />
Wow...that sucks.<br />
Yeah the guy was a real dick and I haven't been ever to find anything else.<br />
I'm really sorry George. <br />
Yeah.<br />
Guess you have a lot of time to watch Mad Men.<br />
I hate that show George grumbled. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-63445219936892090072015-03-26T15:20:00.000-07:002015-03-26T15:20:00.728-07:00Phone Husband<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
That's it. I cant take it anymore.<br />
Shelly grabbed Nathans phone from his hand. He stared at her. <br />
What?<br />
We don't have a life together anymore. You have your phone and I have this threesome It sucks!<br />
Nathan sat back in his chair in the restaurant.<br />
Have you lost your mind?"<br />
No. I am tired of competing with your phone. Even when we are having sex you have your phone in the bed!<br />
Nathan shook his head.<br />
Oh come on....<br />
It's true. I was just about to come and you took a call!<br />
Hey. I'm a broker. You never know when a client wants to talk to you.<br />
Shelly shut her eyes. <br />
You never talk to me anymore. We go out and you are on your phone. We drive somewhere and you are on your phone. We go on vacation and you are on your phone. You are never just with me!<br />
Nathan shrugged<br />
Its the way it is now. I have to be accessible.<br />
Bullshit. You are addicted to your phone Nathan and I wont go through this another day.<br />
Nathan stared at his wife.<br />
So what are you saying?<br />I am saying it is either me or the phone. You get rid of the phone or I'm leaving you. <br />
You mean...no phone.<br />
That's right. Get a pager or whatever. But I want my husband back. <br />
Nathan nodded his head slowly. <br />
Well...if it means that much to you. <br />
It does.<br />
Then obviously there is only one thing for me to do. You mean the world to me.<br />
Shelly put his phone in the middle of the table.<br />
Thank you.<br />
Nathan picked up his phone and looked at his wife. <br />
I guess we need to get you an apartment.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-25834469593514276372015-03-25T10:15:00.000-07:002015-03-25T10:15:43.597-07:00Text Elitism <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It really bothered Justin that Paul should be doing so well<br />
They had gone to college together and even been roommates. He had moved to the suburbs and taken a job at Dominoes pizza as a manager while Paul became an architect. What really bothered him was that Paul preferred texts over conversation. <br />
Hey lets get together.<br />
Sorry. Busy.<br />
Paul's texts were always curt. They were usually just a few words. Still Justin persisted. He felt if he and Paul could get together he might establish a lifeline to a bigger world. Paul lived in a highrise downtown with his wife another architect. They were always going to benefits or concerts or just doing really cool things. <br />
Hey...how about Saturday?<br />
Sorry. Just got back from Paris.<br />
So it went. Paul would wait a few weeks and then send Paul another text. It seemed this bigger world beyond the suburbs of wife and there kids and a dog and a cat was at Pauls fingertips. He actually had seen him on television a few times being interviewed about architecture in Chicago. So he was very excited when the text came back:<br />
Hey Saturday might be doable. <br />
Great. We will come down. <br />
Yes...dinner at our place seven. Paul<br />
Justin bought a snazzy new sport coat and his wife bought a dress she had seen in a magazine. They both looked forward to a night downtown with people who might usher in a new life for them. The text came during Saturday afternoon.<br />
Sorry. Forgot about Chicago Symphony concert. Have to cancel.<br />
Justin was stunned. More than that he was mad. He had enough of Paul and his rude elitist texts. He would show him. In a fit of rage he texted back.<br />
That's fine. We have a YANNI concert we forgot about. <br />
He hit send with great satisfaction. <br />
He never heard from Paul again. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> <br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-79936639125255050432015-03-24T18:32:00.000-07:002015-03-24T18:32:16.310-07:00A Doctor Story <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't think she has an infection.<br />
Jim looked at the doctor<br />
They had been in the treatment room for an hour. He had to go outside and ask several times if they were next. Sylvia was so sick she fell asleep on the gurney. She had been fighting the flu for several days and when he heard her say it hurt when she coughed they had gone to the Immediate Care Facility close to their home. Now the Asian doctor was standing with his arms crossed. <br />
I just don't think antibiotics are warranted here. <br />
Doc. I know some Zithromax will kill this thing. Her sister just had the same thing. <br />
The Doctor stared at him. <br />
I will take a chest xray. If I see pneumonia then I will prescribe antibiotics.<br />
Fine. <br />
Jim waited while they took his daughter to get xrayed. Then they had to wait another half hour for the results. The Asian Doctor returned. <br />
Just like I thought. Nothing on the xray. There is really nothing I can give her except Tamiflu.<br />
Jim shook his head. <br />
Doc. That wont work. She has had this for a while. She needs antibiotics. <br />
The doctor crossed his arms. <br />
I don't see the need.<br />
Jim jumped up. <br />
LOOK DOC SHE NEEDS THE FUCKING DRUG. SHE IS VERY SICK. WE DIDN'T COME HERE FOR TWO HOURS SO SHE CAN GET TAMIFLU. <br />
The Asian Doctor turned red and shrugged. <br />
Fine. You want antibiotic I will give it but I don't see she need it. The nurse will give you the prescription. Then he left. Jim got the prescription filled and sat up with his daughter most of the night. <br />
In the morning the doctor called and said they found a spot on the xray. <br />
Good thing I gave her antibiotic the Asian doctor told his wife. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-28810210146699710802015-03-23T08:58:00.000-07:002015-03-23T08:58:37.084-07:00Neighbor friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The dinner came about after they ran into the Hendricks at the graduation ceremony. They had lived across the street from each other for ten years and their kids were the same age and they were the same age but Pam and Jack did not gel with Frank and Julie. So Frank decided they would have a dinner. Way back when they had tried when they first moved in but it just didn't go anywhere. So now Frank decided to break the ice with the dinner.<br />
They had lobster and rice and champagne for dinner. After dinner they went to the den and sat around and had coffee. The conversation had been stiff. They had asked where each of their kids were going to college. Pam still looked like a million bucks though she had aged. She had a way of just waiting for you to make an ass of yourself before she spoke. That's what Julie thought.<br />
Frank decided to go for it.<br />
You know we had this dinner well because we decided that after all these years it was ridiculous for us to not be friends. I mean ten years ago we all tired and...I don't know with our kids in college now maybe we can pull it off.<br />
Jack sat with his coffee with his leg crossed. He had a Hemingway beard and he stared down at his coffee for a long moment.<br />
I wondered what was behind this he began slowly<br />
Frank shrugged. <br />
Well...nothing. Just Julie and I thought since none of us are moving we should you know become better neighbors.<br />
Jack set his coffee down.<br />
That's the point. We are neighbors.<br />
Exactly Frank exclaimed.<br />
No. Jack shook his head. I mean we are neighbors and not friends. Those are two different groups that Pam and I like to keep separate.<br />
Frank looked at his wife and she shook her head. She had told him this was a bad idea. She didn't like Pam and thought she was a bitch.<br />
Well...Frank continued. Maybe we can change that. <br />
Jack pursed his lips.<br />
No. We are neighbors. The truth is we didn't become friends ten years ago because we didn't really like each other...and the truth is we still don't.<br />
Franks mouth opened slowly as Jack stood up .<br />
But thank you for the dinner neighbor. Ready Pam?<br />
Frank and Julie stared at each other after the door closed.<br />
I told you.<br />
Frank nodded.<br />
You were right.<br />
Two years later they moved back to the city where their neighbor friends lived. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-25735878568433371862015-03-18T11:24:00.000-07:002015-03-18T11:24:47.318-07:00Genius<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Marcus had just finished speaking at the private school with Tyler. They went for drinks afterward. Marcus just had a book come out and was riding high. Tyler's last book came out ten years before.<br />
Yeah my agent is pissed at me.<br />
Marcus drank his beer and looked across the table.<br />
Why?<br />
I haven't given her anything to sell for ten years Tyler shrugged.<br />
Yeah. Well I'm sure you'll come up with something.<br />
I don't know. It's not that I haven't written anything just nothing good.<br />
Marcus nodded but he couldn't empathize. He had just sold his third novel for just under six figures and sold the movie rights. He was the hot young author who had been in People Magazine and the New York Times and started writing in a famous authors house.<br />
Here I wanted you to have this Tyler said after many shots and many beers. <br />
Marcus took the book that was old and faded. <br />
Its the only one I have. You cant find it anywhere. <br />
Cool. Thanks man.<br />
That was the last Marcus saw of him. Ten years later he was waiting in the Chicago Public Library for Tyler to come out. Tyler had just been awarded the Genius Grant and his book had been a National Bestseller. Marcus had lost his publisher and was selling real estate. He had seen in the paper about Tylers speech and hoped to maybe get a contact for a new agent or publisher.<br />
Hey Tyler!<br />
He was walking out in a dark suit with a woman looking at her watch.<br />
Oh hey Marcus. How's it going?<br />
Not bad, but hey man you are happening! <br />
He smiled. <br />
Yeah...things are going ok.<br />
Hey... how about a beer?<br />The woman looked at her watch again.<br />
Sorry. I have to go work with some actors who are doing a play on my book.<br />
Oh cool....I guess you finally wrote something good, huh?<br />
Tyler grinned. <br />
Yeah....hey great seeing you, Marcus.<br />
He watched Tyler duck into a car then walked to the train station. He saw his book in the home he showed that night. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-26554008395826975622015-03-17T06:54:00.000-07:002015-03-17T06:54:48.803-07:00Facebook Envy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Marie was sick and tired of Claire's posts. It was Claire and her husband Jason on the ski slopes. In Paris. In Rome. In Germany. They were always on beaches or by the pool or waving from the Grand Canyon or in Napa Valley tasting wines. Marie tried to block her but somehow because of the strange Facebook Algorithms she always ended up getting Claire's posts. <br />
Marie and her husband could not afford vacactions. John was an adjunct for Comp classes and she was working on getting her nursing degree. They counted their pennies and pizza night was a big deal. Still the onslaught of videos and pictures and posts about Claire's travels taunted her day after day when she opened her computer. She then started to post herself. It started with a video of France she lifted from YouTube.<br />
Here we are in France she declared. Then she took pictures of Germany, the Caribbean and taught herself photo shop and began to insert her husband and the kids in pictures. Then she started to insert all of them. Here we are at the beach in Cayman Island! Here we are in Puerto Rico! Here we are in Hawaii. She noticed then that Claire started to increase her posts. Russia. New York. The Presidential Inauguration. It was amazing. Not to be outdone Marie posted Facebook shots of her kids posing with the President and then stunning shots of them tramping through the Amazon and hang gliding over the rain forest. <br />
This went on for months and Marie was truly in awe that Claire had that kind of money. She knew Jason was a trader on the Board of Trade and from their travels she was sure he had been making millions. Then suddenly the posts stopped. Marie never saw Claire posts again. It was a year later she saw a woman with washed out hair and a haggard expression.<br />
Claire? She called out in the Dollar Store.<br />
The woman turned . It was Claire.<br />
Hello Marie.<br />
I never expected to see you here.<br />
Claire shrugged gripping her list tightly.<br />
Yes well after the divorce...<br />
You divorced?<br />
We lost everything. The house...I live in a town home now.<br />
I didn't know.<br />
Yes our life changed. I used to post all these phony pictures on Facebook about our vacations when we were getting foreclosed on. <br />
Marie's mouth opened. Really? <br />
It was pathetic. We never went anywhere. Then I just stopped and never went on Facebook again. <br />
Clarie nodded to her.<br />
I never saw you on Facebook. It's really just a bunch of people lying about their lives.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-42022140666414493242015-03-16T11:30:00.000-07:002015-03-16T11:30:22.980-07:00Mugged <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Ric was walking home when he felt the gun in the back of his neck <br />
Go into the alley man or I blow your fucking head off.<br />
Rick had never been mugged. He had lived in Chicago over twenty years and many of his friends had been mugged but he never had. His heart pounded as he walked into the dark alley.<br />
Put your motherfucking hands up against that wall. <br />
Hey man just be cool. I'll give you whatever you want. <br />
Give me your fucking wallet.<br />
Its in my back pocket. <br />
He felt his hand dig his wallet out. <br />
Where's your fucking money.<br />
That's it man. I don't carry cash.<br />
You telling me you don't got no money.<br />
No man. I use my atm card.<br />
You lying.<br />
No. Its a cashless society. Nobody carries cash anymore.<br />
What the fuck am I supposed to do now.<br />
Take my watch man. Its a Rolex. Its worth a lot of money.<br />
Give it to me.<br />
Ric took the watch off and held it up.<br />
How do I know you have a gun?<br />
You want to find out motherfucker?<br />
No.<br />
Don't you move.<br />
Ric felt the gun leave his head and then heard something clank on the pavement<br />
He stayed facing the wall and then slowly turned around. The alley was empty. Rick walked slowly out and saw something glittering on the ground. He picked up a pipe. <br />
That fucking guy was lying! He exclaimed. <br />
Ric felt his wrist where his watch had been.<br />
Enjoy the Timex asshole he muttered. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> </div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-44746495224987197692015-03-16T11:04:00.000-07:002015-03-16T11:04:16.382-07:00Reading <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
John didn't read anymore. He didn't even read his phone all the way through. When he met with Kevin at the bar he asked him the same thing.<br />
Nope. I don't read newspapers anymore. I cant take the time. <br />
Really. You used to read everything.<br />
I know. I used to watch all those political shows too. Remember we both did.<br />
John frowned.<br />
Yeah. I don't know why but I lost interest.<br />
Me too. It just doesn't seem relevant anymore. I don't know where I found the time.<br />
John shook his head.<br />
I mean maybe we are becoming a people who don't read anymore.<br />
It is probably out of date. We get everything in bits. Our brains have wired up to accept bursts of information after that it just tunes out.<br />
But doesn't that scare you? <br />
Not at all. Look why should we carry around all that information when we have these?<br />
He held up his phone. <br />
I know none of my students read. We read everything in class out loud. Its the only way I can be sure they can read.<br />
How's that going?<br />
Well the truth is no one can read.<br />
What do you mean?<br />
I mean they cant read. They stumble over words or just loose their train of thought. My ten year old reads better than they do. <br />
Kevin drank his scotch.<br />
Man that's rough....what grade to you teach again?<br />
Freshman comp. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a> <br />
</div>
William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4680077209400240316.post-91298327446150578652015-03-16T09:45:00.000-07:002015-03-16T09:45:19.390-07:00Getting Even <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
George used to go looking at his old girlfriends from college on Facebook. Barb was an old girlfriend who he wished happy birthday to and then suggested they meet. George had done this to several old girlfriends but none of them replied. So he was surprised when Barb shot him an IM Sure!<br />
The Starbucks was crowded and he found a table and waited with his coffee. He was nervous because he had a wife and two kids but he told himself that all he was doing was meeting an old girlfriend not having an affair.<br />
Hi George<br />
A woman who was immensely fat sat down.<br />
Barb?<br />
Yes. Don't you recognize me?<br />
George stared at her. She did not look at all like her Facebook photo. In the online page she did not look that different from their college years.<br />
Wow...you look...different.<br />
Barb smiled and beneath the jowls and inflated cheeks he saw her.<br />
Yes. I cropped my face from college and put it on a different body. Looks pretty good don't you think?<br />
Yeah.<br />
George tried to remember the girl whom he had sex with in cars and on front lawns and got drunk at parties but he couldn't match it with this enormous woman.<br />
When I hit three hundred pounds my husband divorced me and I lost my job. I had to move back with my parents. <br />
I'm sorry to hear that. <br />
Well...I sure was glad to hear from you. We had some great times then didn't we?<br />
Yeah. <br />
George wanted to get out of there. He was embarrassed to be sitting with Barb. <br />
I know you wanted to meet me because of my photo and now you probably don't want to talk to me.<br />
Well...No....<br />That's alright George. I always knew you were a prick.<br />
He frowned.<br />
I knew about the night you were supposed to meet me at the bar and you picked up a hitchhiker and screwed her back at your apartment. Sue your landlord told me the next day when I came over. <br />
George sat back in shock. <br />
I didn't know...<br />
How could you? I I didn't say anything and then we broke up anyway. But when I saw your text I wantdd to see the look on your face when you saw me and know that I had just fucked with you the way you fucked with me. <br />
Barb then pulled out her phone and snapped a picture. <br />
Why did you do that?<br />
Lets see...she tapped her phone...moving her thumbs. Love Barb. That should do it. Now were even.<br />
She stood up. George stared at her. <br />
Who did you send that too?<br />
Your wife. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.williamhazelgrove.com/">www.williamhazelgrove.com</a><br />
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William Hazelgrovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03985807149961515374noreply@blogger.com0