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Get to Know the 2024 Denver Food + Wine Festival

The Denver Food + Wine Festival is more than just a chance to partake of great food and drink, although that would be reason enough to go. It’s also a way to get to know, revisit, support and celebrate some of Denver’s best restaurants, food trucks, chef, and bartenders. And there’s a charitable element to the event too, rounding out how awesome it is. The In Good Taste Denver blog was founded by…

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The Lovely Things I'll Show You

Flip Zimmerman x Siren

Word Count: 16.6k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Angst, maybe? Lots of Violence. Violence Against Women. Violence Against Men. Rage. Revenge. Drowning. This isn't dark by my personal standards, but it's fairly dark by fic standards, so be warned.

This is from Flip's POV, so there's no X Reader language. However, I left the Siren pretty vague and I think she can be read as a reader insert. At least by readers with enough imagination to assume they have a tail etc xD. Also, I don't consider this as 'Dark' Flip, but some people probably will, so consider that an additional warning.

Inspired by Lighthouse by Halsey Based on a request I butchered from @cas-backwards-tie

AO3 Link

Eastport, Maine, perched on the Northeastern most tip of the state like a mole on the end of a witch’s nose, was about as far away from the rest of the country as a man could get. Alaska might be further, but the strange daylight and dark hours that changed with the seasons wouldn’t do a damn bit of good for the mental state of a man already on the brink. On the brink of what exactly, Flip couldn’t really say and he wouldn’t hazard a guess. Things like that should be left to professionals high above his pay grade. Professionals Flip wouldn’t denigrate himself to consult.

Talkin’ about a man’s problems is for pussies and whiners, Flip would say. To his own reflection in his bathroom mirror, leaning over the sink, wiping the sweat from his brow after waking from another recurring nightmare. A shrink is a poor substitute for a cold beer and beatin’ the hell out of a punching bag.

That was back in Colorado Springs, back during the aftermath of the Pigman killings. Sure, Flip had solved the case, shot dead the bastard dubbed Pigman for his penchant for frying strips of his victims up like bacon. Flip resented it in ways deeper than he could ever express to a shrink, how that sorry bastard had ruined the taste of bacon for him. One of his favorite guilty pleasures was his heart attack special – a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and waffles, all slathered in genuine Vermont maple syrup. Flip hoped that pleasure would return to him. After he was able to purge his memory of the smell of human ‘bacon,’ harvested from plump victims, sizzling in a cast iron frying pan, human fat popping up from the pan and burning his hand as he crept past with his gun held at the ready. Firing a bullet into the Pigman’s head was a relief, something he deserved for ruining the taste of bacon for Flip, in addition to his other gruesome atrocities.

Focusing on bacon as the greatest tragedy helped Flip mitigate in his mind what had happened to his partner. Flip had taken that memory, crumpled it into the smallest ball of pain he could, and shoved it down inside his mind, into the darkest, deepest recess. He understood now the meaning of that shrink term ‘unpacking.’ Well, he had no fuckin’ intention of ever unpacking that memory again, or those emotions. There was nothing equal to finding a partner dead and half butchered like a prize hog. Nothing in a shrink’s handbook to undo the damage caused by the smell of bacon frying in a cast iron pan. Thick cut bacon, freshly cut from his partner’s flanks.

These days, that memory was left buried in Flip’s subconscious, coming to him in sweaty, pulse-thundering dreams. Flip was a mentally tough man, highly disciplined. He could keep that terrible beast caged. But everything about the Colorado Springs police station reminded him of his partner, a constant kick in the guts that made it impossible to truly repress. Even his favorite restaurants and bars, his own house for fucks’ sake. All of it was now full to bursting with painful associations. This pain came out as anger, which was really the best and healthiest reaction in Flip’s arsenal. It beat taking up drugs, drinking even more, or putting a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger.

Before he lost it on some poor bastard who cut him off in traffic or an asshole who pinched a waitress’s ass in front of him, Flip decided a change of scenery was just what the doctor ordered. He wanted to get as far from anything familiar to him as possible. When he came into work one morning and saw a newspaper clipping advertising a small town in Maine was looking for a new sheriff, Flip didn’t think twice about where it may have come from. He didn’t give a damn.

After a long weekend trip to Eastport, Maine that served as reconnaissance, Flip found a nice cabin that suited him, far away from people, and even a friendly little mousy-haired schoolteacher who suited him too. Well enough for some entertainment, anyway. She had great tits and a face that gave Flip the impression she was the kind of girl who’d let a man do damn near whatever he wanted whenever he wanted, because she wasn’t overly burdened with beauty or brains and had the good sense to compensate in more tangible ways. He took her out for coffee and a stroll around the small, quaint town, having her show him what passed for the sights. Afterwards, she was very friendly and rewarded him handsomely and enthusiastically for her mocha latte in the backseat of her car.

Come Monday, Flip accepted the sheriff gig for a surprisingly good salary and made a deal on the cabin for a steal. Both for the same reason – the market was thin pickin’s for successful men with Flip’s level of skill, who were willing to move to a town of fifteen hundred people with a higher population of sasquatch than eligible singles. Eastport was a nice little town, what there was of it. Picturesque in that quaint, rural way that looked great on a postcard but didn’t hold one’s interest for long.

Three months in, and Flip loved it. The work was easy. He hadn’t had to use his brain on a crime since he left Colorado Springs, and the most stress he had was searching for a dumb kid who had gotten lost in the woods and escorting the little shit back to his mom. He’d only had to fire his piece once to scare off a bear that was rummaging through the sheriff department trash. Most of the ‘crime’ he’d been prepped for consisted of vandalism, DWI’s, animal attacks, domestic violence, and bar fights. Flip had already dealt with a few bar fights, about one a weekend. He loved that part of the job. It gave him an excuse to take out some aggression on some wannabe tough guys who could handle it, and who wouldn’t be the wiser when they sobered up as to whether their fat lip or black eye came from the sheriff or the other guy. And the floozy schoolteacher named Cristy gave great head and made few demands, aside from dragging him to church a few times to keep airs that she wasn’t a loose woman. That was a royal pain in the ass, but he could endure it.

He loved the pace and the seclusion. He was damned sick of cities bustling like ants, air that smelled like grime. Colorado Springs had that big city grime along with big city crime, and the punks and gangbangers that came with it. It was nice to have the freedom of driving less than thirty minutes from town and being out in the middle of nowhere. Forest or coast, he could take his pick. He could go whale watching or moose hunting; hiking or fishing; watch the golden sunrise at a local coffee shop and watch it set fiery orange over the ocean while having a juicy ribeye, a fat lobster tail, and a cold beer. Eastport even had a barber shop with the red and white striped pole out front, where a man could get a haircut and a shave with a straight razor and not listen to women chatter about the latest Cosmopolitan article on how to please a man or what celebrity got which body parts inflated.

Six months in, and Flip was beginning to hate it. The easy work had grown dull. There wasn’t a goddamn thing that got his heart rate up anymore – fucking aside, anyway – and he hadn’t had a good adrenaline rush since he’d been woken up in the middle of the night by a bobcat in heat screeching on his back porch, sounding like some banshee straight outta hell. Even that little excitement had been weeks ago. The schoolteacher had grown as dull and uninteresting as a blowup doll, with a comparable IQ and conversational skills. It gave him more reason to keep her mouth occupied with other activities or her face shoved into the mattress, but that brand of enjoyment was only good for so long. Then she wanted to talk, always about the most mundane gossip and dumbest shit imaginable. Flip asked her once if she wanted to read a book with him – some adventure thing he’d picked at random in a used bookstore, packed with plenty of action for him and shirtless strapping men he thought she’d enjoy too. She looked at him with a bovine sort of vacancy in her mossy eyes – an association that had become hard for him to ignore – and asked, “Read? You mean like a magazine or a newspaper?”

The seclusion was turning to cabin fever, the endless wilderness closing in on him like a noose. The bad accents of the locals were as grating as a migraine, and the smell of fish and ocean pervaded every fuckin’ piece of his clothing, strong enough that it vied with cigarette smoke for his signature scent. Going to the five restaurants and three bars in town, having the same thing on the menu over and over had gotten old as hell. There wasn’t even a movie theater within an hour’s drive, only an old drive-in that was only open during the four months a year a man wouldn’t get frostbite on his dick trying to enjoy a movie from the bed of his truck with his girl in the old-fashioned way. The seclusion and boredom had been good for one thing. Flip had lifted weights and run himself into the best shape of his life. His arms bulged, his chest strained his shirt buttons, and both his cardio and timing on a speed bag were better than they had been during his tour in the Marines.

The teacher must have gotten bored with Flip too, because he stopped by her house a little early one Friday night to surprise her with a bottle of cheap wine and a chick flick, only to find her banging some pencil-dick science teacher he recognized as a specimen she had made assurances was just a friend. A married man too, aptly named Less, the piece of dogshit. Flip wanted to knock the bastard into next week, but he was truly concerned he might get a murder charge if the limp-wristed yuppie couldn’t take one of his punches. Actually, fuck the man. Flip wanted to knock that cheating slut around. He’d never hit a woman before, but if anyone deserved it, it was a fucking cheat. Dull and plain as she was, and despite ample opportunity, Flip had never cheated on the little skank.

The icing on the cake was when the murders started. Flip had come to this backwoods hellhole to get away from murders. It seems crime missed him and had followed him across the map. The first body washed up on the shore in a bucolic cove. It was a place Flip had found early on and driven to several times to have a beer and watch the sunset. Tall rocky cliffs populated with pine trees surrounded the ocean, and the waves crashed against the rocks with a thunderous susurrus. Those dense pine softened the light at dawn and dusk, bending into luscious pinks and oranges, and the water gleamed a vibrant sapphire. It was a scene straight off a postcard.

The bloated corpse lying on the beach slightly hampered that postcard beauty. Standing over the corpse in the sand, Flip guessed by the clammy pallor of the gelatinous skin and the damp putrid smell the man had been dead a week or so. Flip’s deputy, an older man with greying hair straight out of Mayberry, gave Flip his opinion that the man had fallen from the cliffs and drowned, or had been boating and drowned, or some other kind of accident that led to drowning. An accident that didn’t necessitate police involvement or investigation. The deputy had been there forever, and had turned down the sheriff’s position twice to avoid the added responsibility. The pattern was easy to see. As were the strange marks on the dead man’s neck and shoulders. The marks were faint, a little difficult to make out for an untrained eye, especially on the bloated, damp, decaying skin. They looked like something between hickies and strangulation bruises.

With a shrug, the deputy mentioned to Flip that accidents like this happened a couple times a year. Flip took the initiative to research exactly what that meant and how many similar accidents like this had occurred.

“Fuck me,” Flip muttered profoundly.

Based on his first cursory examination of the half-assed reports the Eastport Sheriff’s Department generated and the even worse records it maintained, he counted around fifty accidental deaths in that cove going back until World War II. He suspected there were many accidents the police didn’t deem worth documenting in their records.

“Accidents my dyin’ ass.” Flip swiped a hand over his face.

So much for a quiet change of pace.

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

The bodies had all been found washed up on the rocky beach of the cloistered cove. There wasn’t much of a beach, just the rocky bottom of cliffs that the waves crashed against. Flip thought it might be public land or even park land because it was pretty enough that some rich recluse should have bought it up years ago if the government hadn’t claimed it. He was surprised to find the entire cove and a couple hundred surrounding acres had been in one family for well over a century. The entire property was dubbed ‘Thundercliffs,” a term he guessed was coined from the sound the waves made crashing against the cliffs. The old house wasn’t abandoned in the technical sense, not in the way the townsfolk believed. A quick search at the County Clerk revealed it was owned by a trust along with the sizable acreage it sat on and a host of other assets. The sole beneficiaries of the trust were a pair of siblings by the names of Hortence Desdemona and Beauregard Mountbatten III.

“This is gonna go well,” Flip grumbled as he wrote the names and address into the small notebook he kept in his pocket.

The address listed in Port Clyde was easy to find, and even offered a nice drive down the coast. It led him to a quaint cottage in town overlooking a harbor abuzz with working fisherman hauling in nets of fish and cages of lobster. He pulled his truck in behind the only car in the driveway, one of those old station wagons with the wood side panels. Several potted plants taller than Flip lounged on the porch and in the windows there were crystals and weird looking wicker crafts shaped like moons and stars. An old German shepherd was curled up by the door, his muzzle more white than black. He lifted his head to appraise Flip, but decided he wasn’t worth getting up over, and settled for watching him warily. The scent of incense or maybe fancy candles seeped onto the porch from inside. As he rapped his knuckles on the door Flip hoped that froufrou smell wouldn’t stick to his clothes and stink up the inside of his truck on his drive home.

A dumpy eccentric woman answered. She inhaled sharply at the sight of the handsome stranger, instantly flustered, and set about smoothing her rumpled outfit and bushy curly hair. She was dressed somewhere between a seventies hippie and a new age wannabe witch. Flip didn’t really understand the difference, but there were lots of colors and flappy material to her getup, stacked jingling bracelets, and multiple rings on every finger.

“Hi, ummm, can I help you?” the woman stammered. It had probably been a while since she’d talked to a man.

“Is Hortence or Beauregard available?” Flip asked in an authoritative tone.

“Why on earth would you want to see them?” She bristled and folded her arms over her chest.

Clearly, he had taken the wrong approach. The woman was of indeterminate age. She could have been a good-looking sixty or a rode-hard forty. He figured either way, she probably wasn’t dried up enough to be immune to masculine attention. Leaning against the doorframe and towering over her, he turned on the charm.

“Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t mean to come off rude.” He flashed his handsomest smile and ran his hand through his thick cowlick. “I’ve been put in the position of looking into some abandoned property that may be part of a trust of which they’re the sole beneficiaries. I just want to make sure all the property they’re rightfully entitled to gets to them.”

“Property where?” the woman stiffened even more, a rare response to Flip’s moves.

“I can only discuss that with the beneficiaries, I’m afraid.” He looked over the woman’s head, starting to suspect something was off. The cluttered inside of the house looked more like a fortune teller’s parlor than the residence of wealthy siblings. “Are you a relative?”

“I’m May,” she snorted in what passed for a laugh. “You could say I’m their stepmother.” She flapped her arms in a kind of shrug. “If you want to meet Hortence and Beauregard, follow me.” She turned and snorted again. “You can ask them anything you want.”

Flip passed overstuffed bookcases and curio cabinets filled with a myriad of trinkets into a sunny kitchen. The windowsill was littered with more witchy hippie looking things and a large plant with striped leaves dominated the center of a small dining table.

“Can I get you something to drink?” May asked as she started tapping a can on the counter.

“Coffee, if you have it. Thank you.” Flip watched her odd tapping with the can. “About the folks I’m here to see…”

“They’ll be along shortly.” She smiled and poured a mug of coffee from an existing brew in her coffee pot. “Give them a minute, they don’t move as fast as they used to.”

Flip still didn’t know what kind of eccentric he was dealing with here, but he decided to be careful not to leave any stray hairs around just in case. The last thing he needed was some broad crafting a voodoo doll of him or some shit and summoning him to her bedroom in the witching hour. He wondered if witches only used hair for those things, or if any kind of DNA would work. That unsettling thought made him eye the coffee mug suspiciously. An old police trick was to offer a suspect water, then keep the glass for DNA testing after the suspect leaves. DNA was discarded material then, free game to search without consent. He decided he didn’t need coffee that badly after all and set the mug on the counter in the same motion that he leaned his hip against it.

A fat black cat waddled into the kitchen, greeting him with a trilled meow, looking up at him expectantly with rich green eyes. The cat jumped up onto one of the chairs at the dining table, then up onto the tabletop, where it sat politely. Another deeper meow heralded the arrival of a second cat, bigger and even fatter, with a bright orange striped coat, a white patch on its chest, a white tipped tail, and bright amber eyes that matched Flip’s.

May smiled at them and said to Flip, “Let me introduce you to Hortence,” she pointed at the black cat, then moved her finger toward the orange tabby. “And Beauregard.” She emptied the can of cat food onto a saucer and used a fork to separate the contents. “Ask away.”

Flip rubbed the scruff on his jaw, watching as the woman placed the saucer on the table. Hortence began eating while Beauregard hefted his bulk up onto the chair then the table beside her.

“Cat got your tongue?” May asked with a snort.

“They’re the beneficiaries of the Thundercliffs Trust?” Flip stroked the black cat.

“They sure are! Brother and sister. Twenty-two years young,” May beamed as if she were indeed talking about her children. “Their real mom died ten years ago, but they get their longevity from her. She lived until she was in shooting distance of one-hundred. She was an old maid like me, no human children. So, she left everything in a trust to her cats. I get a monthly wage as their caretaker, not that I wouldn’t do it for free. I used to help their mom with chores and errands. Part maid, part cook, part caretaker. She was more like my crazy aunt than anything though.”

“I see.” Flip smiled to buy time while his mind ran through any questions that might be useful. “The trust also owns an old house up in Eastport. Does that mean the cats own it?”

“I suppose it does,” May shrugged. “I left my law degree in my other pants, but I’m told we could all live in that big old mansion on the cliffs, the cats, and my dog, and I. But I don’t think I could spend a night in there and catch a wink of sleep. I used to clean it once a month, and I hated every second I spent inside it. Something’s just wrong in there. I couldn’t even get Elwood to go inside with me when he was young and reckless – you met him on the porch.”

“Why is that, do you think?” Flip asked. “I’d like to hear your thoughts on that house if you have time.”

“I have plenty of time, but those aren’t thoughts I like to spend my time on.” She smiled but her tone was firm. “I might look like a silly old woman to you, but I’m not that silly. Or naive. I know there’s nothing I could tell you about that house that you’d believe anyway. And I know it’s not smart to go telling a sheriff lots of outlandish things and making him think you’re crazy.”

“Sheriff?” Flip grinned a little bashfully. He didn’t know his jig was up when he knocked on the door.

“I could tell you I’m a psychic and see if I could get fifty bucks out of you for a tarot reading.” May winked. “Or maybe news just travels fast in small towns. Especially between women. And extra especially about the new hunk of meat with a silver star up north.”

He laughed because it beat acknowledging his status as a slab of meat. “I’d like to take a look inside that house on the cliff. Would you be willing to show me around? The sheriff’s department would compensate you at the same hourly rate you get from the trust.”

“No way in hell, sheriff,” she smiled sweetly. “Not for the money or that handsome smile. I haven’t been up there in years and I don’t intend to go back. Not ever. If Hortence and Beauregard could sign legal documents, I’d advise them to demolish that house and every other structure on the property, bulldoze it clean, and turn it into a landfill.”

“Hell of a thing to do to a place with such a great view,” Flip said.

“I see. You’ve already been out there poking around.” It wasn’t a question and she seemed sad about it. “It’s always the handsomest men around who are drawn to that place.”

“Well, it’s also my job.” Flip didn’t tell her that he had gone to those cliffs many times on his own before anything suspicious had happened or any bodies had washed up on shore. That he thought the cliffs with the tall pine trees overlooking the boisterous cove was the best place in town to have a beer and watch the sunset. He damn sure wouldn’t say he felt drawn there. But even if he did, it was just the view. A man had every right to appreciate a nice view.

May opened a kitchen drawer and rummaged around, finally retrieving a keyring with a single key on it. She tossed the key to Flip and smiled as he snatched it out of the air with ease.

“Here’s the key to that house. Take it. The honor system is still pretty big here in our small towns.” She smiled. “Besides, if you use it to do something stupid to that house or anything inside it, you’ll have bigger problems than me.” She snorted again. “Actually, I doubt I’ll have to deal with you anymore at all after that!”

“What worries you so much about that house?” Flip asked, shoving the key into the front pocket of his jeans.

“Nothing about that house doesn’t worry me.” May shook her head. “You might want to ask me about the property too, not just the house itself.”

“Alright.” Flip nodded. “Consider me asking.”

“Lots of deaths on that land over the years.” She shuddered slightly. “I imagine that’s why you’re here. One of the first deaths the paper covered was in the forties. A strapping man who’d just come back from the war drowned in that cove. Everyone thought it was so strange because he was in great shape, fresh out of the military. They suspected it must have been a suicide. He was the second man to drown in the cove that year. But if you ask me, or most locals, the very first death was actually just labeled a disappearance. The military man’s wife.” She waved at the cats. “Their mom’s great aunt. I guess that’d make her their great great aunt.” Another snort. “Rumor has it she ran off with some man or other she met while her husband was off at war, and her husband committed suicide when he got home and found out.” She paused and looked at Flip. “But there are always rumors about beautiful women, aren’t there? If a woman’s pretty enough, men will call her a slut regardless of how many of them she sleeps with. Or doesn’t. Come to think of it, the more men a woman rejects, the more likely they are to label her a slut because it makes them feel superior. I’ve seen it a dozen times and I’m sure you have too. A small man’s way to destroy a woman who’s out of his league.”

“And that woman lived in the house?” Flip clarified. “The pretty woman?”

“She wasn’t just pretty. Rumor has it she was drop dead gorgeous. Bewitchingly, enchantingly, dangerously beautiful. But yes, Hortence and Beauregard’s great great aunt.” She patted each cat in turn, eliciting happy purrs. They had plopped down on the dining table, listening to the conversation. “All this was told to me by their mother. I wasn’t there, of course. I wasn’t around at all for a few more decades.”

“I appreciate it.” Flip gave her a genuine smile. “The key and the information. Don’t worry, I won’t hold you to anything you got secondhand.”

“There’s one fact that isn’t secondhand and you should give it some real weight, sheriff,” May said in the most serious tone she’d adopted so far. She was still stroking the orange cat. “Their mother owned that house for decades when she inherited it from her mother. It’s closer to a mansion than a house, and has that great view you mentioned. Still, she never lived one day in that house and she never sold it either. She didn’t want any living thing to live inside it. She rarely spoke of her great aunt, and when she did it was only to praise her beauty. I asked her more about her once and this is what she told me: ‘I don’t believe in speaking ill of the dead, especially when the dead might still be listening. But I will say that since she was a young girl, my great aunt was blessed with beauty and cursed with rage.’”

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

Flip stopped at a local bakery before leaving Port Clyde, letting all the new information settle in his mind. He had two slices of spectacular homemade blueberry pie, allowing himself to wander through this new world of information. It was a strange world for him, one with witches and ghosts and curses and haunted beaches. He didn’t believe any of that shit any more than he believed in Santa Claus, but it was an entertaining world to visit. Plus, it had a dangerously beautiful woman in it.

The drive back would take him around four hours. He’d be pulling into town just in time to catch the sunset. Picking up a cheeseburger and fries to go and a six pack on the drive sounded good. What sounded even better was eating his burger while watching the summer sun set over that gorgeous cove from high up on the rocky cliffs.

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

Flip’s favorite spot was on the highest cliff at the head of the cove. There, a flat rock served as an ideal bench near the edge, offering the best view of the cove from beneath the shade of a tall pine. He sat and just admired the view, the greasy-bottomed bag containing his cheeseburger and fries sitting on the rock beside him. He felt like a gargoyle perched on the top of the tallest building in a city, overlooking his domain below.

The sky was molten gold and fiery orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. The surface of the ocean glittered golden too, like it was a sea of coins instead of water. The light in the pines took on a soft dreamlike haze and a light fog was building along the beach. Lower in elevation and about two-hundred yards away was the lonely old house, its four tall stories keeping watch over the cove. Flip looked at it now from his vantage, conscious of what his senses might tell him. He felt nothing ominous at all. If anything, he felt content, a sense of belonging. A feeling that he could be happy here for a very long time, that he could even stay here forever. With a jolt, he realized he had been leaning nearer to the edge while lost in thought.

Movement on the beach far below caught his eye. Staring intently, he quite literally couldn’t believe his eyes. A woman lay on the beach, stark naked, and writhing in pain. She was also thrashing what appeared to be a shimmering golden tail. He didn’t believe in ghosts or Santa Claus, and he wasn’t about to start believing in fuckin’ mermaids either. But that’s damn sure what she looked like. Flip rubbed his eyes and forced them to focus more clearly. No, that long golden tail was still there, glistening wet and whipping violently on the beach. He could even faintly hear the wet slaps of it on the sand, paired with an ethereal voice calling for help.

Flip launched off the rock and ran back through the trees toward the house. A trail took off from the house, navigating the treacherous cliffs down to the beach. It would be suicide to attempt a descent anywhere else. At the base of the cliff, he charged into a full sprint, pumping his arms and kicking up sand as he ran down the beach toward the woman. Her cries for help were louder now, so loud they seemed to echo inside his head. There was a lewdness to it, too. If Flip hadn’t seen her writhing in pain, he would have taken the sound for loud moans of ecstasy.

He vaulted over a boulder at the head of the cove and found her, only feet ahead of him. The woman was every bit as naked as he had thought, but it wasn’t a tail he had seen thrashing. From the waist down, she was tangled up in a tawny fishing net. Somehow, the sunset must have made it look golden. In his mind’s eye, he could picture a perfect tail, complete with fins and individual scales of gleaming gold, thrashing and slapping the sand. He didn’t know how the hell he had seen that from the tangled mess of rope binding the woman’s legs, but he didn’t need to think about that now.

Falling to his knees beside the woman, he spoke soothingly like he would to a frightened animal. “I’m here to help you. I’m not going to hurt you. Let me help you.” It required a herculean effort to keep his eyes from wandering over her magnificent heaving breasts. He cupped her cheek to stop her from thrashing in the net. The ropes were digging into her, leaving angry red burns across her skin. Her eyes were wild with fear like a fox caught in a snare, but also bright and fierce. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her gently, keeping his voice soothing, “Look at me. I’m going to help you. Be still.”

The woman’s eyes rolled to meet his, and it felt like they bore straight into his soul. His throat went dry and his hands felt weak. The sun had set now, leaving a lingering purple twilight. Her eyes were luminous in the lavender light, somehow catching the ambient glow and reflecting it back even stronger. A mane of glossy hair was spread across the sand beneath her, and the fading light danced on her skin like diamonds on silk. Her eyes were no longer frightened, but still wild. They drew him in. Without realizing it, Flip’s hand had slipped from her shoulder to skim down her side, coming to rest on her hip on the only free patch of skin between ropes.

Flip flinched at the realization, fumbling a broken, “I’m sorry.”

The woman said nothing, continuing to stare up at him. Her lips curled in a slight smile that may have been satisfaction. Or it may have been relief at finding a savior.

Flip felt a foreign compulsion. Something dark and sick. Something he would have beaten another man up for. He felt the almost irresistible urge to unzip his jeans and cage the woman beneath him. To use the ropes to his advantage, plunge into her and ravage her like an unhinged beast. It was a base impulse, something at home in a feral animal instead of a man. Flip had felt lust, and he had a bad habit of thinking with his cock, but he had never felt the drive to take what wasn’t offered willingly. He had never felt desire so aggressive and consuming.

“How long were you out here on the beach?” he asked to ground himself. He shook his head, berating himself internally, asking himself, What the fuck is wrong with you? He had seen plenty of naked women, beautiful women. Had plenty of them beneath him writhing in much more lascivious ways than this one. He wasn’t a blushin’ virgin and he goddamn sure wasn’t a fuckin’ pervert.

“I’ve always been here,” she said with a laugh on her voice, as harmonious as a sonata.

Looking away from her, he took a breath to purge the perversion from his mind and unbuttoned his shirt. He roughly shrugged out of it and draped it over the woman’s torso, covering the most enticing bits of her. He wanted to rip the ropes off her, but he forced himself to move slowly and untangle her with care.

“Are you hurt?” he asked when she was free of the net, forcing himself to look into her eyes and nowhere else.

“No,” she said in a serene voice with a sound as pleasant as windchimes. “What are you going to do to me?”

That odd, innocuously asked question flooded his mind with another violent rush of terrible, driving, impulses, alarmingly perverse. His jeans felt tight, and he felt disgusted with himself. He decided it was even worse looking into her eyes than it had been looking at her perfect naked figure. He fought the urge to tell her what he wanted to do – ravage her, and even more than that he wanted to take her home and keep her chained to his bed. All to himself. Forever. In a great effort to remain civilized, he gritted hoarsely, “I’m gonna get you off this beach and somewhere safe.”

Flip wrapped her in his shirt, lifted her into his arms, and pushed up to his feet. He cradled her gently in his arms as he carried her back down the beach. It was now nearly dark, but her eyes were still almost unnaturally bright as they watched him serenely. She should have smelled like the ocean, even salty or fishy, but she smelled sweeter than anything he had ever scented. He couldn’t place her scent, but it was like an amalgamation of everything that had ever enticed him, from the hottest woman to the sweetest honey to the most fragrant perfume. All those scents mingled harmoniously where they lived in her skin. She laid her head on his chest and made a sound in her throat like a purr. It shook Flip straight through to his bones.

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

Flip carried her up the steep trail back up to the top of the cliffs. He carried her to his truck, parked near the trailhead. He wanted to take her to the hospital, have a doctor sign off that she was alright. But the strange woman protested, insisting it was too far and she was too cold. Flip hadn’t noticed her shivering before, but now she trembled in his arms, her body fluttering against his chest.

Instead, she asked him to take her into the old, abandoned house, assuring they could warm themselves inside. Though she had only asked and in the most melodious of tones, Flip found it was a command he couldn’t refuse. Still carrying her in his arms like a doting husband with an eager bride, he strode to the front door of the abandoned house. The door was a shade of purple-brown, like a fresh bruise, with a standoffish doorknocker in the shape of a lion’s head with a heavy ring clenched between its teeth. Glaring at the beast, Flip kicked the door in.

Still holding the woman to his chest, Flip paused at the threshold, looking from one dark corner of the foyer to the other, prepared for anything, like an old west gunfighter entering a saloon. He felt immediately ridiculous. Those ghost stories and tall tales must have gotten to him more than he’d wanted to admit. There was nothing amiss inside, save for some dust and cobwebs. Moonlight filtered through the windows, making the dust he had disturbed look like mist wafting lightly on the air.

“Upstairs,” the woman said. “There’s less dust upstairs.

Flip didn’t care whether she was right and he didn’t ponder her statement. He attacked the stairs, taking them two at a time. The house was Victorian-styled, filled with tall ceilings, ornate details, and airy windows. A pair of double doors stood open at the end of the hallway on the third floor, beckoning him inside. Flip carried his prize through them and into a master suite, noticing at once it was surprisingly clean. Bay windows were ajar, open just enough to allow a crisp breeze tinged with pine and salt blow in from the cove. The light wind must have kept the dust and cobwebs at bay because the room looked and smelled pristine.

Flip tried not to focus on the large bed, almost as plush and inviting as the woman in his arms. He aimed for the bathroom, intending to fight her chill with warm water. She tugged on his collar, pulling her face near his ear and whispered, “You just pulled me out of the water. Don’t put me back in it yet.” Her breath was hot on his neck. “Take me to bed.”

“That’s not what you need,” Flip rasped, trying to deny the way his blood boiled and remain a gentleman while his cock throbbed.

“Isn’t it just like a man to tell me what I need?” she laughed, both husky and harmonious.

“You need warmed up, and a doctor, and probably a hot meal,” Flip told her as he walked to the bed. In one swift motion, he sat her down and peeled his own soaked shirt off her, trying not to look at the perfection that revealed. He pulled the quilt around her in a cocoon, both to warm her and keep her hidden from his view. He turned her brusquely around and laid down beside her, wrapping her cocooned figure inside his arms, hoping the thick quilt barrier between them would keep his arousal his own dirty little secret.

“Can you not think of a more effective approach to warm me up?” the woman lilted.

Inhaling her scent with his nose near the back of her neck, Flip thought he had never been so intoxicated by any substance. He cleared his throat. “I’m not very imaginative. Sorry to disappoint.”

“I have some ideas,” she teased. “Do you care to hear them?”

“Not unless you buy me dinner first, darlin,’” Flip gruffed. “I’m not that easy.”

“You can take whatever you want, you know,” she said in a sultry invitation.

“I don’t want to take anything from you,” his voice rumbled.

“That’s a lie and we both know it. I can feel how much you’re lying.” She wiggled her perfect ass against the ridge in his jeans. He only tightened his hold to still her, making no moves to relieve his own suffering. She stilled, and when she spoke again there was a sprinkling of admiration in her voice, “What a strange man you are.”

“Darlin,’ you have no idea,” Flip laughed, adjusting his large arms around her body. “You should see me cut loose on the weekends. I really live on the edge. I have pizza with pineapple and stay up past midnight to watch Twilight Zone reruns and everything.”

Flip held her tight and forced his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way the moonlight danced on her pristine skin and glossed her hair; the feel of her curves through the quilt, as apparent to him as a pea beneath a princess’s mattress; the way her scent curled into his nose, as decadent as rose petals and as potent as whiskey. He could feel her weaving spells around him, through him, inside him, a kind of intoxication that settled in his blood. Flip knew once he was good and drunk on her, he’d never want to sober.

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

Flip dozed during the night, falling into a fitful nightmarish kind of sleep. His mind reeled with images of men screaming as they drowned, a beautiful beach corrupted by waterlogged corpses, and an unnaturally gorgeous woman swimming in the cove, watching the mayhem and smiling at it all.

The feeling of his back being forced down into the mattress made his eyes fly open. The sight of the mystery woman straddling his lap, her mane backlit by moonlight, the same moonlight that gleamed in her eyes, made his pulse thunder. Inhaling sharply, he gripped her naked thighs, his fingertips digging bruises into her skin.

Flip wouldn’t take her, but he was damn fine with being taken by her.

Pleasure rumbled through his throat as she raked her nails down his chest, tracing angry red streaks down his body. She had discarded the quilt, brandishing her exquisite and fully naked body like a weapon, her tits languidly jostling to the circular motion of her hips as she worked him into a frenzy through his jeans. She whipped his belt loose and yanked the button open on his jeans. He tried to sit up, to capture her pouting lips, but she pushed him back with a throaty laugh.

It was the first time in his life Flip had been manhandled by a fuckin’ woman. She was stronger than she looked. He looked up at her in a kind of daze, unable to look anywhere else, or to look away from those oddly luminous eyes. He had an unsettling feeling of being a prey animal, caught in the claws of some carnivorous predator. But with a cock as hard as his was now, he didn’t give a damn about that or any other misgiving.

Purring or maybe snarling, she arched her back and shook out her long glossy hair, crooning his name when she sank down onto him. Flip didn’t remember telling her his name, but that hardly mattered now. All around him, the room blurred like a steaming mirage until everything was a shapeless haze except for the glorious woman riding him. His skin simmered and his throat burned with every breath as if he were sitting inside an oven, but he had never felt more alive. Every sensation was heightened, and his pleasure was more intense than anything he had ever known.

Flip was a big, big man, and he was big where it counted. He was used to women being impressed by his body and his size, intimidated even. He wasn’t used to being stared down with unshakeable confidence as a woman took her pleasure from him. It was strange finding he wanted to give her not only pleasure, but everything else he had. He wanted to give it to her as good as he was getting it, bucking his hips beneath her while her hot pussy strangled his cock. Kissing and licking, grabbing and caressing, thrusting and bucking, he used every part of his body to earn her shudders and hear her moan his name.

Feeling her body tense around him like a silky vice, Flip fisted his hand in her hair and yanked her down to capture her lips. Growling into her mouth, he followed her over the edge, drinking her breath as she trembled in his arms while he filled her. He thrummed with something far deeper and stronger than lust, and he kissed her with a passion he had never given any other woman.

Holding her against him, Flip rolled with her, bringing her beneath him and propping himself up on his palms to admire this view of her under him. She locked her arms around his neck, urging him into her again, assuring him they were far from stopping for the evening. Again and again, they enjoyed each other until his back was stiff and his jaw ached, and until he even wondered if he would have some chaffing in some rather embarrassing areas by morning. When he finally fell asleep with her in his arms in the last hour before dawn, he dreamed of her still.

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

Flip woke with the sunrise, a habit ingrained by his days in the military. Turning over in bed, he reached for the intoxicating woman. How he had released his hold on her in his sleep baffled him, but he resolved to keep her in his arms for the rest of the day to compensate. His hand met only cool sheets and a vacant mattress. As if she had been nothing but a drunken reverie or a fever dream, she was gone from the bed. She had left no note or token, only her luxurious scent lingering in the sheets.

With the sunrise, a realization dawned to Flip. His missing mystery woman was unlike anything he had ever touched or tasted. She was his wildest dream and wickedest fantasy. It was unnerving, frightening even, to realize he was so far gone after one impulsive evening. Flip had tried the most addictive substances in the world at one time or another – it came with the territory for an undercover cop, having to blend in with the worst kinds of men – but he had never sampled anything so addictive, so utterly arresting from the very first taste. The marks she clawed into his back and shoulders would last for days, but the mark she carved into his heart was one he knew would never heal. Flip was tempted to call it love at first sight, but this felt more like enslavement. Love, in his experience, had its limits. His feelings for this woman had no such limitations. Neither did the lengths he would go to have her.

Outside the window, it was a beautiful summer morning with bright sunshine and blue skies. Inside the lonely bedroom, Flip had awakened in his own private hell. A gloom so heavy as the one that settled over him upon seeing her gone should not have been possible after the night he had and the hormones that still flooded his body. There shouldn’t have been a single damn thing that could knock him off cloud nine, but all the happiness and pleasure he had felt throughout the night blackened into loss and sadness as despairing as a moonless winter night. Collapsing back into the mattress, he knew that he would give anything, absolutely anything, to hold her in his arms again.

That’s what love will do to you, he thought wryly.

The woman was the cause of his suffering, and only she could be his relief. He didn’t know where she’d come from or how he hadn’t encountered her before in the claustrophobically small town. As he thought it, despairing at his lack of leads to find her again, he heard her voice quite clearly. She sang a hauntingly beautiful melody in a language he didn’t understand. He didn’t know her words or even if her voice came in through the window or echoed out from the depths of his soul. But he knew her message with stark clarity.

When the moon shines on the ocean, you’ll find me. On that beach, inside this house, I’m yours. Surrender to me, and I’ll show you lovely things.

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

Flip did as she asked. Or maybe as she commanded. If he could tell the difference, he didn’t care. Night after night, he returned to the mansion on the cliffs. Sometimes, the front door would be ajar, leading him inside and into her waiting embrace. Sometimes, he would find her on the beach, out for a walk in the moonlight, reveling in the way it shimmered on her skin. He would swim with her in the ocean, stroll with her in the sand, hold her in the sheets, and fuck her with an insatiable hunger every way she wanted.

She never came to him when the sun shone or when the moon was black, nor would she leave the acreage. She was always gone from his bed and his arms before dawn, no matter how tightly he held her. The rational part of Flip’s mind told him it was some weird game she was playing. Maybe she was married to some big asshole with a temper. The instinctual part of his mind, the dormant part where dreams and intuition reign, told him something that he couldn’t believe even though it felt true down to his bones. Flip knew he had found the creature who haunted that beautiful cove. Hell, he had probably found the woman responsible for so many deaths over the years that he hadn’t even cataloged them all.

As summer bled into fall and the colors turned vibrant, more accidental deaths occurred in the cove, more torn and bloated corpses washed onto the rocky beach. Flip now agreed with his unconcerned deputy, that these deaths were unfortunate accidents. Just as he knew damned well they were murders, Flip knew he had fallen under the spell of the murderess, that he could never again be free of whatever kind of enslavement this was. But he knew also that as much as she had enchanted him, he had captured her heart just as surely. It was like taming a man-eating tiger to eat from his hand and purr from his touch.

If something had cursed this magnificent woman to wander the cove on moonlit nights, that meant there should also be a way to cure her. That’s what Flip did, he solved problems. He was pretty damn good at operating within rules he thought were arbitrary and chickenshit – that’s how he categorized whatever rules held her prisoner. If he could find loopholes inside the penal code to get what he wanted, he could figure out how to save her.

If Flip couldn’t save the woman he loved, what kind of a man was he?

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

The nurses at the Eastport Hospital had all grown tiresome to Dr. Jason Monroe. Plowing through them all had taken most of the year, and it had been a nice ego boost – just what the doctor ordered, as he liked to say – but now the flock of nurses had become just as dull as the withered shrew of a wife he begrudgingly went home to most nights. In addition to the way her once mediocre looks had been eroded by age and the toll taken by their offspring, in recent years she had even neglected to remind Dr. Monroe how impressive he was, how lucky she was to have whatever morsel of attention he gave her. This was an unacceptable slight to a doctor whose ego had outstripped his credentials since his first residency rotation. Eastport was a good fit for him. People there were provincial enough to be highly impressed with Dr. Monroe whereas his arrogance had worn thin to his peers back in Boston.

The drive home from the hospital was long enough for Dr. Monroe to resent what he’d find when he got there – the yellowing smile of his middle-aged wife greeting him along with the smell of whatever trendy meal she had attempted – but not long enough for him to think of any suitable excuses to stay out for the evening. The missus believed him a few nights a month when he told her he had to work late but he couldn’t overuse it, and he was already over what he considered his safe allowance for the month. He decided to take the long way home, take a scenic cruise along the coastline.

The full moon glittered on the ocean like diamonds on satin. Without a large city within miles there was nearly no light pollution, and the moon and diamante stars illuminated the forests and beaches like a dreamscape cast in silver. The moon was so bright, he saw a white spume burst from the ocean and telltale black fins peeking above the waves as a small pod of whales swam near the deserted coast. There was no one else on the lonely two-lane road, so Monroe watched them instead of the road, smiling when a calf breached and turned its belly up toward the moon.

When he returned his eyes to the road, an unfamiliar cove came into view ahead. Frowning, he thought he must have taken a wrong bend in the winding road. The road narrowed and there was no shoulder, making it cumbersome to turn around. He quickly oriented himself when he heard the crash of thunder on the cloudless night. Monroe knew all the stories about the beautiful cove surrounded by thundering cliffs and the haunted house perched high above. He had always wanted to see it, but his doe-eyed and doe-hearted wife had always nagged him out of it.

“What about the rumors, Jason?” she would whine. “It’s supposed to be haunted and it gives me the creeps.”

What a fortunate wrong turn, Monroe smirked to himself. Now, he could take a walk along that beautiful, ‘haunted’ beach and see what all the fuss was about. He could even keep a clear conscience and save his evasion for when he really needed it.

The road had taken him to the beach before it doubled back and wound up the nearest hill toward the old, abandoned house on the cliffs. He thought about driving up there to get the bird’s eye view, but movement in the water caught his eye. Squinting, he thought he saw something glimmering in the water near the shore. It looked like a woman swimming, but that couldn’t be right. The leaves were starting to turn crisp and vibrant as autumn approached, and the nighttime air had a cool bite.

Stepping out of his car, Monroe strolled along the beach toward the head of the cove. The cliffs formed a perfect horseshoe around the ocean and towered above him. The beach was littered with fallen boulders and large monoliths that protruded from the sea like the teeth of a great petrified monster. The beach’s dangerous edges added to its beauty, like a woman in a tight red dress and stilettos.

Monroe saw the movement again, something glistening in the water. Closer now, just beyond the nearest protruding fang of rock. He couldn’t explain why his heart kicked up as he trotted around it to get a better look, but his intuition was rewarded. He’d been right at first. It was a woman. A fucking babe, too, so hot she could have walked right off a porn set. Her tits already had his dick twitching. She was treading water a few yards away, close enough for him to see the way her eyes reflected the moonlight. Below the swell of her tits, her body was hidden beneath the gentle waves, but Monroe had seen enough.

“Hey, baby!” he called to her, trying to sound suave. “Are you out here all by yourself? It’s dangerous for a woman. Especially a woman that looks like you.”

Monroe didn’t like operating from the disadvantage of his prey not knowing his professional status. But it did give him the opportunity to enlighten a new woman, watch the admiration bloom in her eyes when he regaled her with stories of all the lives he’d saved. But for the first time in years, he didn’t even feel the desire to regale her. Monroe just wanted to fuck her. He felt like an alcoholic at a bar, his mouth watering and hands shaking. He walked closer, waves lapping over his six-hundred-dollar brogues.

“It is dangerous,” the woman agreed in a voice as harmonious as a symphony. “You should stay away.”

Her angelic lift didn’t fool Monroe. He caught the sultry devil in her tone, too. It was the tone of a woman who wanted it, wanted him. He kicked off his waterlogged shoes and told her as much, “You look like a woman who wants some company.”

“How does your wife look when she wants company?” The woman asked and kicked away, further out into the ocean. “You should go home to her.”

Monroe saw a flash of gold in the water beneath her, something he swore looked like scales. He wondered if she was blonde down south and the thought caused another jump in his pants. He didn’t bother taking them off when he waded deeper. Fuck, the water was cold. It was a testament to how hot the mystery woman was that his hard-on could endure the frigid water as he swam out toward her.

Just as he closed in, the woman glided away. She looked back at him over her shoulder in what may have been fright or evasion, but Monroe knew better. She was playing coy, giving him a chase. Women did that to him from time to time, played those little games. It never meant they didn’t want him to catch them. He thought about what he’d do to this one when he caught her. He wanted to sink his teeth right into her. One thing he was certain of, he hadn’t ruined his shoes and his clothes to play coy. Play time was over once he caught her.

Which, judging by the way his outstretched hand was nearly clawing through her luxurious mane, was right about now.

Monroe caught her hair as she swam away from him, still playing coy, and used a little too much force when he yanked her back to him. Her beautiful features were twisted and her mouth was open when he yanked her head around. Monroe had expected that – a look of pain or surprise. But the woman was smiling. And she wasn’t a woman anymore. The creature was smiling at him. Its features were still beautiful, but its eyes were vicious with narrow, slitted pupils, and its smile was too wide with too many teeth. Dear god, the teeth! Rows of sharp, brutal, shark-like teeth.

The creature laughed, drinking his fear like wine. It laughed as it tore into him with its brimming smile and those terrible teeth, latching onto his neck with vice-tight strength. The pain and surprise belonged to him alone. And what exquisite pain it was, like nothing he had ever experienced. He felt his flesh being serrated by ragged teeth, and even heard the tearing of his tissue like a seam ripping as the creature tore a chunk out of his neck. He felt his blood oozing down over his collarbone, hot on his chilled skin.

Monroe didn’t think it should take so long to die or that a person could endure so much pain before the release of death. He flailed feebly, or possibly it was his muscles twitching spasmodically as the last currents of life tried to save him. He looked up at the full glowing moon and sputtered a prayer, blood frothing from his mouth as he pleaded to God for help. Or at least to let him die quickly.

“God’s not here tonight, doctor,” the creature told him, her voice still as wickedly harmonious as a devil’s serenade. A golden fin breached the water before the creature dove under with him, fanning a magnificent golden tail to drive them deep into the crushing black depths. Somehow, he could still hear her voice or perhaps the words were driven straight into his soul.

“There’s only me.” Her voice seemed to fill the water like light. Terrible, golden, hellish light. “And the lovely things I’ll show you.”

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

It took a week for Dr. Monroe’s corpse to wash back up onto the beach. Clammy skin had begun sloughing off in patches which, combined with the bloat of decay and waterlogged oozing, gave the body a poached egg sort of look. Flip always had thick skin when it came to murders and crime scenes, it had thickened even more in the last few months. The smell was particularly loathsome with bodies dredged up after marinating in water for days. Soggy, rancid meat was just a little more putrid than dry rot. It should probably worry him that the humid stench coating the back of his throat no longer bothered him, but now he was more concerned with not getting his boots wet from the waves lapping at a vacant eye socket, the surrounding tissue hanging loose like a worn-out buttonhole. In addition to the missing eye, there were other places the fish had eaten. They went for the soft tissue first – eyes, lips, genitals.

I hope you did something in life that warranted your dick bein’ chewed off in death, you poor clammy bastard, Flip thought as he studied the corpse. Fuck, I hope he was dead when that happened. He smirked at his own dark humor.

That humor faded quickly when he had to break the news to the doctor’s hysterical widow; console her while she sobbed, listen while she bemoaned the fate of their litter. He really needed to hire some deputy to do this part of the job, some kind of emotional support golden retriever in human form. Especially with the impressive accidental death toll Eastport boasted.

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

“I found your latest handiwork on the beach this morning,” Flip said to his golden girl between kisses as his mouth trailed from her throat down toward her navel. Moonlight gilded her skin as she moved beneath him in the bedroom he now considered theirs, hidden away in the seaside mansion. “You gotta quit doin’ that, darlin.’”

She bucked her hips against his face in invitation. “You don’t need to worry. I know what’s really bothering you. None of them touch me. No one has touched me since you. Only you.”

“It ain’t a walk in the park breakin’ the news to all these wailing widows, you know.” Flip nipped her skin, delighting in the way she shuddered in response.

“Tell the wife about the nurses the good doctor was fucking,” she said with no remorse. “That should put a bandaid on her grief.”

“Is that an educated guess?” Flip asked redundantly. He had learned earlier that day the doctor had been making the rounds in the hospital in multiple ways.

“When a man drowns in my cove, there’s a good reason,” she said with a hint of venom.

“A man-hater, huh?” he grinned against her skin, teasing her with the scratch of his beard. “Should I be concerned?”

“You? Never, handsome.” She laughed headily. “A hard man like you is good to find.”

“Is that what’s behind all the killing?” Flip asked more seriously, looking up at her and meeting her eyes. “Some asshole hurt you and have a score to settle?”

“I had a score to settle, alright. I was filled with rage, for years and years. But now, it’s nothing so simple as rage. Not anymore. It’s all part of a bargain I made long ago.” She tangled her fingers into the thick forest of his hair. “You might say, I have quotas to meet.”

“Tell me what happened.” Flip raised himself up, cupping her cheek in his hand and looking steadily into her eyes.

“You talk too much, handsome,” she said and used her surprising strength to roll him onto his back and hoist herself to straddle him. Better than that, she straddled his face. “I can think of a better use for that mouth.”

Some time later, she lay draped across his chest as the sweat cooled on their bodies. Flip marveled at her indefatigability. He felt like he had run a marathon, and she could go all night. They still had a few hours before dawn and Flip didn’t want to waste them sleeping.

“You know if you need a hero, I’m happy to step up,” Flip told her, rubbing his hand along her back.

“A hero can’t save me,” she scoffed with surprising rancor. “A hero would never do what’s necessary to save me. Only a villain would have half a chance. A man who chooses to be my hero alone and a villain to others.”

“Hero or villain, I’ll be whatever the hell you want me to be,” Flip assured her, his voice soft this time as he cradled her head on his chest. “Tell me what happened to you, darlin.’”

“What happened doesn’t matter,” she replied with a hint of melancholy. “Why things are the way they are rarely matters.”

“Anything that affects you matters to me.” His voice rumbled through his chest.

With her head resting on one side of his chest and her sharp fingernails tracing patterns on the other, she began her story. Her sonorous voice played harmony to the spell woven by her words. Flip had never been the best listener, not to the frivolous pillow talk most women tried to engage him in. Yet he found he hung on every word she spoke as if it were the thrilling cliffhanger at the end of a riveting novel chapter.

“It’s been more than eighty years since I’ve let a man have me for more than one night.” She kissed his chest. “But I suppose you figured that out.”

“Not really,” Flip huffed, jostling her on his chest. “I don’t have a damn thing figured out, other than I have you now, but I’m not supposed to be able to keep you. I know I want to keep you.” His brow was set and voice heavy with conviction. “I’ll find a way to keep you.”

“I want you to keep me, too,” she purred. “And you’re the first man I’ve ever said that too.” Her voice grew darker. “But there’s a price you must pay to keep me. You’re also the first man I’ve ever wanted to know exactly what that price is. If the price is too steep for you, I won’t force you to make the purchase.”

“No price is too high, darlin.’” He grinned. “Can I whip out a checkbook?”

She smiled up at him with great sadness and returned her head to his chest to begin her tale.

“I married too young to the first man who had ever made me laugh. I was just coming into my beauty and had never kissed a boy before. My husband promised he would take me far away when he returned from the war. I was young and foolish, and I believed him. While he was at war, men in town hounded me. They were merciless. Truly merciless, like hounds baying after a fox. I wouldn’t have looked twice at any of them even if I was single. I was more vigilant over my reputation than I needed to be, more vigilant than any other woman I knew. I couldn’t have done more to avoid and deter them, unless I started undermining my appearance. I wouldn’t give any man the power of making me lessen myself to make them more comfortable. I wasn’t too much. Those men were inadequate.”

Flip stroked his large hand along her back soothingly and kissed along her hairline, letting her take whatever time she needed.

“It didn’t take long – weeks it seemed – until one of those men, a fat, verminous, troll who could never touch a woman like me, started telling everyone who would listen that he had slept with me. That I had begged for it and moaned like a whore. I don’t know how many people in town believed it at first. I thought surely no one could. But the women who heard the rumor were jealous of me and fostered it – ‘I’ve always known she was a whore. Just look at her!’ And the men who heard it wanted it to be true so they might have a chance with me – ‘Yeah, you know she wants it.’ That foul rumor spread through town like wildfire, until I couldn’t walk down the street without getting poisonous looks and lewd propositions.”

“Let’s take a stroll down mainstreet tomorrow,” Atas suggested with gravel in his voice. “I’ll rearrange some faces and punch the teeth down the throat of any asshole who so much as looks at you sideways.”

“I’d give anything to have you show me off on your arm,” she said in a faraway tone. Her voice hardened when she continued. “All the perverse talk emboldened the perverts, I suppose. It didn’t take long until the looks and comments weren’t enough. Then the pinching started, then the grabbing. I could handle myself. I could even fend them off one at a time. I was never a meek woman and I was raised on a farm. Then they started following me in packs like hyenas.”

Flip’s hand stilled on her hip, his grip tightening.

“I went to the sheriff,” she scoffed. “He asked me what I expected, looking the way I look, dressing the way I dress. He told me I was asking for it, and I shouldn’t be surprised when men wanted it. He also asked what it was worth to me for him to do something about it.”

“Is that sonofabitch still alive?” Flip growled.

“None of them are.” She smiled at the thought. Then her lips thinned and her face hardened. “One night one of those men – I can’t remember his name, but I remember his face and his rancid breath – came to my house, the house on the cliffs. He broke in and knocked me out. I woke up when he was dragging me along the beach by my hair. When I fought back, he beat me more, beat me until he could take what he wanted from me. He was stupid though. He turned his back to me to stuff his little dick back into his pants. I bashed the asshole in the head with the nearest rock I could grab. I bashed him again and again and again until his face was hamburger, then I threw the rock into the ocean and dragged his body out. I waded until I was swimming and then I kept swimming. I was a good swimmer, and it felt good to wash the filth off me. I left his body in the middle of the cove to sink and swam back. When his corpse washed up days later, it looked like an accident.”

“That asshole deserved it,” Flip said genuinely. “He deserved a helluva lot worse.”

“My husband came home from the war a few weeks later,” she continued. “I tried to tell him these things. I needed to tell someone other than my damn pets. But he had heard the rumors in town too, and he had already been poisoned by them. He thought it was all my fault. That I must have been putting something out there to elicit the response I received. He thought I took lovers and flirted. That I acted like a whore in his absence because I couldn’t keep my legs closed until he got home.”

“I see why you wanted to get outta Dodge,” Flip grated, his body rigid beneath hers. He dreaded what he thought was coming, but still had to hear it from her lips.

“He said if he couldn’t have me, no one would. He killed me, beat me mostly to death,” she revealed. “When I was barely conscious, he dragged me to the cliff. I screamed and screamed, but no one heard me. He tied an anchor around me and shoved me off into the deepest part of the cove. You’d think it’s quick to drown, but it takes a long time when it’s happening to you. It felt like I sank for hours in my last few minutes. I screamed, watching my cries for help rise in bubbles toward the surface.”

Flip felt her body grow stiff against him as she continued. “I begged and pleaded. When I thought I would do anything anything to live a little longer, something answered. Something that lurked in the bottom of that cove. Something monstrous. I heard its voice inside my head and it offered me a trade. A trade I was all too happy to accept. Instead of a handshake, I felt thick slimy tentacles wrap around me. I thought they were dragging me deeper, but they dragged me somewhere else. I kicked so violently I broke free and I shot to the surface, kicking and kicking. A part of me realized that I should have drowned, that I couldn’t be alive after so long under water. Then I realized that my feet weren’t there anymore. The creature had stolen them, replaced my legs with a tail. I had become one of whatever that creature was. Something cursed. Something soulless.”

“Jesus,” Flip said dumbly, at a loss. What does a man say to that?

“Jesus wasn’t there that night. He didn’t answer my prayers,” she said vehemently. “I made a deal with the devil that night, or a kind of devil, and I became his pet and his ward. Since that night, I have taken my revenge and sated his hunger at the same time, luring men to their deaths with my beauty and my siren’s song. They find me on the beach, and come to save me, then they try to take me,” she laughed cruelly. “Then they beg God to let them drown. So, I show them all my teeth and then I laugh out loud. I never wanted saving, I just wanted to be found. That will teach them. All of them. They’re never to be seen again, and I’m still wandering my beach, swimming in my cove.”

Flip thought she was finished, so he asked with conviction, “So what’s the price I have to pay?”

“I’m glad I met the devil,” she said and propped herself up on his chest so she was looking down at him. “He showed me I was weak. He removed the weakness from me and replaced it with a part of him. In exchange he took a part of me too. The part of me he barters in.” She smiled grimly. “The price, as you see, is a piece of your soul.”

Flip chewed his cheek, considering this for only a moment. “I can go without a piece of my soul, darlin,’ as long as the rest of it belongs to you. And all of you belongs to me.”

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

When Flip awoke the next morning, she was gone. He knew she would be; he had grimly resigned himself to that reality months ago. It could have all been a dream, a fantasy or a nightmare. Maybe he could walk away from her and after a few painful years, convince his mind of that. Inconveniently, she was real. The realest and most alive Flip had ever felt and would ever feel was when he was with his siren.

Thunder roared outside and a gusty wind blew the bay window open with a rusty groan of hinges. Flip groaned himself as he rolled out of bed, grabbed his pack of cigarettes, pulled one out with his teeth, lit the tip and dropped his lighter back on the nightstand. Smoke trailed from his nose as he walked to the windows. He was still naked, boasting scratches from her nails across his chest, his hair wild from her fingers. Leaning against the window frame, he blew a stream of smoke outside.

Clouds as dark as gunsmoke hung low overhead and the thunder booming in the sky was louder than the crash of waves against the cliffs below. Waves ripped across the surface of the usually calm cove, cresting white like lipizzans in capriole. Watching the water boil from the storm, feeling the chilly air on his skin, and taking a drag from his cigarette, Flip wondered how in the hell he could pay the price for his siren’s absolution. If it was as simple as handing over a pound of his flesh, he would go down to the kitchen and cut a chunk out his side before breakfast. Ideas turned over in his mind, he rejected each one as fast as it bloomed. He focused so intently on that question, he didn’t realize he was chewing his lip around his cigarette until he tasted blood mingled with tobacco.

A strange movement in the water in the center of the cove caught his eye. The shape of the cresting waves in the center had changed, becoming sinuous. The water looked like insects crawled over its surface. Flip frowned, stepping outside onto the balcony, clamping the cigarette between his teeth. The wind buffeted him, raising goosebumps on his shoulders. Or maybe it was the sight of a long oily black tentacle reaching up from the water, twisting in the air, then vanishing again.

Flip spit his cigarette over the balcony rail, as he planted his hands on it and leaned forward. He strained his eyes, focusing on the sinuous writhing in the center of the cove. Horror prickled his skin like icepicks when he realized the strange movement of the waves were a multitude of black tentacles, wringing and twisting inside and on top of the stormy waves. The very center was calm, about the size of a dinner table. It gleamed like oil. Something inside the round center made a jerky movement. Flip realized it was an eye. A giant black eye. And that eye had just focused its abyssal pupil on him. The tentacles whipped wildly around it now, breaching the water in agitation or excitement.

Whatever this creature was, it was not his siren nor anything possessing of her beauty. He recalled her story and the tentacles that had caught her legs and dragged her under. This was the hellish beast that had lived in the cove long before the siren ever took her first swim. This was the eldritch monster that collected the souls his siren harvested. Flip stared at it, and the monstrous eye stared right back.

An idea flashed into his mind. Whether it was his own, a spark of brilliance born of the terrified adrenaline that coursed through his veins, or whether the tentacled monster had impregnated his thoughts, he didn’t know or even care.

Flip knew what he had to do to save his siren, to have her all to himself. He was too late to avenge her, but he could try his best to save her.

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

After meeting the shining black eye of that monstrosity in the cove, Flip was rattled. He didn’t like the idea that had been put into his head, but he wasn’t forcing it out either. He was allowing it to percolate, considering his options. His phone dinged from an incoming text as he was pulling on his jeans. It was unusual for him to be bothered by calls or texts out on that acreage; it allowed him to feel like there was only him and his siren alone in the world. Service was spotty and unpredictable at best out on the cliffs. His phone varied between one bar and no service depending on the device’s mood. He fished it out of his jeans pocket and glared at the new text, wrinkling his nose more from the text than he did from the smell of moist corpses.

“I miss you,” said the whoring schoolteacher, Cristy.

“I bet you fuckin’ do,” he gritted to himself and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

The thought that had taken root in his mind that morning blossomed into something thorny and brutal. Maybe even a little evil, the kind of thought that was rare for Flip. And it was brilliant.

Instead of the petty barb he had been poised to text, he typed a new message. “Then let’s do something about it. Pick you up at 7?”

“See you then,” her reply came almost instantly, followed by a string of emojis.

Another check in his siren’s box. She didn’t text him stupid shit with stupid fuckin’ emojis.

“Better get movin,’” he grumbled to himself as he shoved the phone back in his pocket and pulled his shirt on. He had a lot to do between now and seven.

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

Before picking up Cristy, Flip ran a few other errands. He went into his favorite coffee shop, as he often did in the mornings after leaving his empty bed. This time, he flirted with the barista he knew was married. Loud enough for his voice to carry to the surveillance camera behind the counter, he told the married woman he was thinking of watching the sunset from the local lighthouse and asked if she wanted to join him. She declined as he knew she would. Later in the day, he purchased a ticket for a show at the drive-in theater and made sure a few people spotted the sheriff there, talked to a few others. Once the movie was rolling, he doubted those same people would notice him leaving early, and there was no surveillance in the dated drive-in to be concerned about. He still had time to drive to the lighthouse, at the far end of town from the siren’s cove, and toss out an empty Coke can with his DNA on the rim. With the recent storm and the humidity, it would be impossible to place his tire tracks to a timeframe narrower than twelve hours, which was just what he wanted. His last errand of the day was surprisingly easy, and he even arrived early to pick up the teacher. He ensured there were no witnesses or cameras in the area. And he kept the radio loud in his truck while he drove her out for their date, loud enough to cover any noises coming from the truck bed.

The hardest part of it all was faking a smile at Cristy’s bland wit and keeping his mouth shut on the topic of her liaisons with the science teacher, Less. Even though he had no interest in her and now had the woman of his dreams in bed most nights, being cheated on still irked him. He wondered if that lingering anger would be resolved tonight too.

Flip just hoped her lackluster spirit and dented soul were fungible with those of his magnificent siren. He would never make that trade, but he hoped that was just his mortal sensibility.

Ignoring Cristy’s protests that the cove was haunted, Flip drove them there anyway. He remembered the road with beach access thanks to the late Dr. Monroe. It was convenient that any tracks on the beach were washed away by the tide within minutes. Few people ever came to this place, thanks to the ghost stories and tall tales surrounding the cove and the old house. From the beach, enclosed on three sides by high cliffs and tall, toothy rocks, a man could feel like he was alone in the world. Flip parked between two spires of rock rising out of the surf, near a small dinghy and oars he had dragged there that morning, still patiently awaiting him. They arrived when the sun was setting, the prettiest hour of the day to spend in the haunted cove.

“Get your whorin’ ass in the boat,” Flip ordered the woman in a frightening tone, shedding his pretenses of civility.

“What did you say to me?” Cristy tried to sound offended, but fear shook her voice.

“I’m askin’ nicely.” Flip smiled cruelly. “But I’m not above askin’ another way. I suggest you don’t make me ask twice.”

She was stumbling over her words, backpedaling some kind of excuse or apology. Atla didn’t care and he wasn’t listening. He got out of the truck, made sure to pocket his keys, and walked behind it to open the tailgate. He wasn’t concerned about Cristy getting away. She couldn’t get up the cliffs here, so all she could do was try to run away down the beach and Flip could catch her in seconds. Or she could try swimming away across the cove, which would be just fine by him.

Grabbing the bundle Flip had covered with a tarp in the bed of his truck, he yanked it out, letting it fall to the sand in a heap. He had thought the man, Less, might have given him more trouble, but he lived up to his name. Flip had dealt with stray dogs who put up more of a fight. Less was crying behind his broken glasses, sucking against the duct tape over his mouth as he sobbed. He wasn’t even fighting against the zip ties on his wrists and ankles.

Flip walked to the passenger door and yanked it open, unable to keep himself from grinning at the sight of Cristy’s dull, horrified eyes. Flip leaned on the door and told her, “I doubt you believe me, but I have no intention of hurting either of you. I just want us all to have a little chat.” He jerked his head toward the dinghy. “So, you can either walk your ass over to that boat and sit down in it on your own, or I can drag you to it and throw you in. Your choice.”

Trembling with fear and crying, Cristy complied. As she walked toward the boat, she looked around, calculating her odds of escape and realizing it was hopeless. Flip bent and grabbed hold of the man’s collar, dragging him through the sand and hoisting him into the boat like a duffle bag, landing with a heavy thud.

“I’m sorry,” Cristy sputtered. “I didn’t mean to cheat on you. It was all a mistake.”

“Yeah, it’s a dangerous world out there for a woman,” Flip menaced, letting her know the world she was in now was very dangerous indeed. “A girl never knows when she might trip and fall onto a dick. I don’t know how you navigate it. Me? I’m just thankful I haven’t tripped and fallen on top of any strange women yet.” He bared his teeth in a cold grin. “Get in the boat.”

“You said you weren’t going to hurt me,” she sobbed, climbing into the dinghy.

“I’m not,” he said gruffly. “You have my word.” He jerked his thumb at the quivering man curled in the bottom of the boat. “Believe me, if I was gonna rough you up, it would have been when I caught you with that fuckin’ joke.”

Flip shoved the boat with both teachers inside out into the water and jumped in as a wave caught it. He took the oars and began rowing them out into the cove. The sun had dipped behind the pines on the cliffs above and the light was rapidly fading. By the time they reached the middle of the cove, the shore was hazy and indistinct, shrouded with purples and blues and a light mist.

Flip retrieved a knife from his jeans pocket, smirking at the way Less cowered from it. Catching Less by the ankle, Flip cut the zip ties binding his legs. He jerked his hands back when he realized the pathetic excuse for a male had pissed his pants. He cut through the ties on Less’s wrists and then stood, trying to keep his balance in the small boat. Less staggered up on shaky legs, his puny fists balled at his sides. Flip grinned at the feeble sight, but it gave him an opening he had wanted for some time.

Still grinning, Flip slammed a vicious right punch straight into Less’s nose, feeling the rewarding crunch of cartilage as the skinny dweeb reeled backward. Before Less tipped over backward, Flip grabbed the front of his shirt and the waistband of his pants, and unceremoniously chucked him over the side. Less shrieked like a woman when he hit the water and sputtered in hysterics next to the boat.

Looking at Cristy, Flip gave her his best Dirty Harry glare. “Do you need help gettin’ out of the boat too, or can you manage on your own?”

“What are you going to do? You can’t leave us out here!” she screamed, but she timidly stepped out of the boat into the ocean to tread water beside Less.

“Like I said, I just want to have a conversation,” Flip said dangerously. “And what I want to hear is the two of you begging. I want you to beg for your lives. Beg not to drown. I want to hear what kind of bargain you’re both willing to make not to drown here tonight.”

“I’ll do anything,” the woman cried. “Oh, God help us! What do you want?”

“Keep it up.” Flip grinned at her.

Grabbing a fistful of the man’s thinning hair, Flip shoved his head under again. The man flailed and sputtered, giving Flip about as much trouble as a wet rat. The woman sobbed, treading water in place. It was pathetic how weak the couple was. Not an ounce of fight or flight in them, just sobbing and pleading. They didn’t even try to capsize his dinghy, which wouldn’t have been difficult.

Keeping hold of his hair, Flip let the man splash back to the surface, wheezing for breath.

“Beg, you sorry sonofabitch,” Flip growled in his grittiest tone. “Beg to be saved. Promise you’ll do anything.”

Less instantly amped his sobbing to the level of horror-movie-cheerleader, begging and pleading and promising with everything he had. Cristy followed his lead, stupidly thinking that being pitiable enough would save her. They carried on for minutes, wailing and splashing, pleading and promising.

“Please,” Less pleaded, snot clogging his nose and tears streaming from his eyes. “Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Don’t let me drown!” Cristy shrieked. “I’ll give you anything you want if you save me.”

The ocean began swirling around the couple. They were too preoccupied by Flip to notice. The eddy was gentle at first, quickly gaining speed. Cristy noticed when it started to tug her under, like filth getting sucked down a drain.

“We begged you,” she sobbed. “We promised to do anything you wanted to spare us.”

“You weren’t beggin’ me for a fuckin’ thing.” Flip laughed cruelly. “And it wasn’t me you made those promises to.”

Punctuating his laughter, a forest of tentacles erupted from the whirlpool, oily black and as thick as Flip’s waist. The tentacles whipped around like cats o’nine tails. The woman screamed and the man cried pitifully. Flip grabbed the sides of the little boat to keep from being thrown out as it bucked on the turbulent water, hoping to hell it wouldn’t capsize.

The tentacles latched around the pathetic couple flailing in the water, catching Cristy around her legs and waist and Less around the neck in a slimy noose. His mouth opened in a scream that couldn’t escape his strangled throat and his eyes bulged from their sockets, as the woman splashed feebly. Their screams and sputters and splashing sounded deafening to Flip in the otherwise silent cove. Just as fast as they had appeared, the tentacles were sucked back beneath the water, leaving Cristy’s terrified face and Less’s lobster-red strangling head bobbing for another heartbeat before they too were sucked down into the water.

The whirlpool grew smaller, swallowing the couple down into the cursed depths of the cove. Flip’s dinghy settled with a splash, its violent bucking slowly calming until it was rocking gently. The whirlpool had vanished along with all trace of the teachers, and the waves had returned to normal. The starry night was incongruously peaceful, the ocean beautiful and the sky pristine. With a heavy sigh, Flip dropped his hands from the sides of the boat and let his breath return to normal, waiting for the guilt that never came.

Two worthless souls in exchange for one exquisite soul was a fine trade by him. Maybe he’d thrown in a little piece of his own soul as a tip, but he was fine with that too.

A hoarse cry coming from the shore snapped him back to attention. There was enough light from the moon and stars for Flip to see movement on the beach, but he couldn’t make out what it was. There wasn’t any way either of the two teachers could have gotten there that fast, and slimmer odds still they’d survived.

Grabbing the oars, Flip heaved against them, sending the dinghy lurching back to shore. His heart jumped when he recognized the familiar, superb figure of his siren. When he neared the shore, he jumped out of the boat, splashing water up to his thighs, and dragged the rowboat ashore. She was on her hands and knees in the sand, doubled over coughing up water. Flip ran to her, falling to his knees beside her, his hand going instinctively to rub her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked, still rubbing her back as she coughed. He had never seen her cough like this before, as if she had just narrowly avoided drowning. She was naked, as he had found her many times, but this time her skin was cool to his touch and goosebumps rose in a rash over her shoulders. Flip yanked his shirt open, shrugged out of it and wrapped it around her, pulling her onto her knees and into his arms.

She shuddered against him, her entire body heaving.  Worried, Flip squeezed her tighter. Then he realized she was laughing, silently laughing so heartily her whole body shook. Pulling back enough to look at her, Flip cupped her face, studying her smiling features.

“I think you did it, handsome,” she crooned, her smile widening further, tears brimming in her eyes. The ethereal lilt was gone from her voice, though it still spoke to his heart. The oddly luminous glow was gone from her eyes, though they were still bright and beautiful and looked right into his soul. Her mane of hair was still luxurious but lacked some of the gloss it usually held, and her skin was soft as velvet but was missing the ethereal golden flush that had always seemed to shimmer just below the surface.

“You’re free?” Flip asked, his voice hoarse in his tightening throat, a toothy smile blooming on his lips.

“I think so,” she laughed, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him so roughly she bruised his lower lip. “Take me to bed. If I’m allowed to stay until dawn, I’m yours.”

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

For the first time, Flip was able to watch the sunrise holding the woman he loved. He stayed awake all night waiting for it, just to make sure she wouldn’t somehow evaporate in his arms. He wanted to touch her, assure himself she was real, while he watched the morning sun gild her skin and dance in her hair. This morning, he would be able to take the woman he loved with him into the little coffee shop, show her off in town. Thinking of spending his life enjoying such simple pleasures with her made him feverish with love.

A thought played over and over in Flip’s head, making him grin like an idiot. She was still his as the sun rose. She would be his forever.

The sunrise was golden, lighting the reds and oranges in the autumn foliage aflame. The cove was calm, the water a peaceful sapphire. If Flip strained his ears, he thought he might have heard a faint cry, carried up from the water on a light breeze. With some imagination, it might be the screams of the souls trapped beneath the water. The new recruits Flip had engineered as a trade for the release of his siren. But a rational man would chock it up to the wind rustling the pines. The sound was barely audible when the waves thundered against the cliffs. And the waves would always be there. The waves would always come crashing down.

Flip would label the drowning of the two schoolteachers an accident. One might call it following traditional Eastport Sheriff Department protocol. Even if some ambitious cop wanted to investigate, there was no evidence to support anything else. Two lovebirds went skinny dipping in the cove and drowned. Damned shame.

Flip’s siren heard the faint sounds carried across the water, turning in his arms to look out of the windows. She smiled, a wistful sort of look in her bright eyes. Flip kissed her shoulders and neck, feeling her body respond to his touch. When she rolled onto her back and pulled him over her, he saw the familiar wildness in her eyes. Her wildness wasn’t a gift from the being in the lake. It was born into her and it remained a part of her. As Flip kissed her smiling lips, he wondered if her desire to kill, her rage, were gone too. Or if that had been a part of her long before she was taken by whatever dwells in the cove. She still seemed like a wild thing to him, like a fox or a tiger. Then he wondered if he could possibly domesticate a wild tiger. Or if he could only keep her sated. He didn’t know, but he intended to do his part on that front right now.

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

 © safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some sexy sirens!

[rabbitcruiser]

National Chicken Fried Steak Day

Feeling a little bit hungry for some southern home cookin’? Then this is the perfect day!

National Chicken Fried Steak Day offers a great opportunity to appreciate and enjoy this classic, hearty dish with a few different southern sides.

History of National Chicken Fried Steak Day

Chicken Fried Steak has been around in southern cooking for many decades. Several places seem to claim its origin, including the states of Texas and Oklahoma. Some think it came from German immigrants who settled in Texas and began cooking steak in a similar way that they had cooked pork or chicken – like a wiener schnitzel. Others believe the dish got its start further north, in some commercial kitchens of Kansas and Colorado.

No matter where it got its start, Chicken Fried Steak is a delicious dish that is associated with southern cooking. It has been officially embraced by both Texas and Oklahoma, but it can certainly be enjoyed anywhere in the US as well as around the world!

National Chicken Fried Steak Day was founded not many years ago. Campaigned for by a restauranteur, Jeffrey Yarbrough and his friend, singer Jimmy Baldwin, National Chicken Fried Steak Day was established in Texas to give this southern dish just a bit more respect. The two wholeheartedly believed that people would argue a little less often if they just had a plate of chicken fried steak to enjoy!

By the year 2011, the 82nd Texas state legislature officially approved Chicken Fried Steak Day through a proclamation of House Resolution 1419. Of course, even though it might not be an official day in other states, Chicken Fried Steak Day can certainly be celebrated in places all around the world!

In an effort to make the day even more special, Jimmy Baldwin wrote a little song about this delicious food, and the song was officially endorsed by the state of Texas in 2017. The title is “Peace, Love, and Chicken Fried Steak.” and the chorus goes like this:

“Peace, love and chicken fried steak

That’s what the world needs now”

National Chicken Fried Steak Day Timeline

1830s Germans populate large portions of Texas

It’s likely that the German tradition of making wiener schnitzel was a strong influence on the more recent invention of Chicken Fried Steak. 

1838 The Virginia Housewife is published

This cookbook, by Mary Randolph, contains one of the earliest recipes similar to Chicken Fried Steak, but it is made with veal cutlets.

1942 Chicken Fried Steak ranks as one of America’s top meals

The National Restaurant Association compiles a list of the top 10 favorite American restaurant dishes and Chicken Fried Steak with country gravy ranks at #3.

1988 Chicken Fried Steak is added to Oklahoma’s official state meal

Officially approved by the state legislature, Oklahoma’s state meal includes Chicken Fried Steak, black-eyed peas, fried okra, cornbread, pecan pie and several other items.

2011 First National Chicken Fried Steak Day is celebrated

By proclamation of the Texas state legislature, Chicken Fried Steak is considered a food that reflects the history and diversity of the state. 

How to Celebrate National Chicken Fried Steak Day

Have fun and fill up that belly with delicious food in enjoyment and celebration of National Chicken Fried Steak Day! Choose a variety of different ways to pay heed to the day, including some of these ideas:

Enjoy Eating Chicken Fried Steak

Head out to a restaurant that specializes in southern or country cooking, and order up a plate filled with chicken fried steak, pile some white gravy to go on top and perhaps ask for some fried okra or a side of black eyed peas!

If choosing a locally run southern cooking restaurant isn’t an option, some national chains that often have Chicken Fried Steak on the menu might include places like Cracker Barrel, Cheddar’s Scratch Kitchen, or Church’s Chicken. And perhaps, in honor of National Chicken Fried Steak Day and in the interest of saving some money, these restaurants will be offering special discounts or deals on this delicious dish.

Try Making Chicken Fried Steak at Home

Making chicken fried steak in the kitchen at home isn’t terribly difficult. And it might be a fun activity to enjoy in celebration of National Chicken Fried Steak Day!

Grab a recipe from the myriad of country cooking recipes available on the internet, or choose one from a cookbook at home. One of the most important factors in making chicken fried steak is to make sure that the cut of beef is properly tenderized, meaning that it is beaten until it is very thin and will fry up easily.

One other pro tip is to bread the meat and then place it in the refrigerator, covered on a sheet pan, for about 30 minutes prior to frying. This will help the batter stick to the meat and prevent it from falling off while in the cooking process.

Serve chicken fried steak with a variety of classic side dishes, including creamy mashed potatoes, fried okra, coleslaw, macaroni and cheese, green beans or many other options.

Learn the Chicken Fried Steak Day Song

When there’s a song that goes along with a day, it might be almost compulsory to learn it! Or at the very least it can be a lot of fun. This song by Jimmy Baldwin, one of the founders of the National Chicken Fried Steak Day, is worth learning and singing along with. A quick online search will bring up a YouTube video, just for fun or the lyrics are here:

A whole lotta hate going on A whole lotta hate We’ve gotta learn to love one another White, Black and Brown, We’re all just brothers Well, I’m no guru, but I know what it will take All it takes is some chicken fried steak. Peace, love and chicken fried steak Peace, love and chicken fried steak That’s what the world needs now

Take a Trip to Texas

Perhaps it is not the place where chicken fried steak originated (though many Texans will likely vehemently disagree), but it is definitely the place where National Chicken Fried Steak Day got its start. And Texas certainly was the first state (and only, so far) to pass legislation for Chicken Fried Steak Day!

So a little trip to the largest of the southern United States would be a great way to celebrate this day. Enjoy a plate full of chicken fried steak at a huge selection of restaurants in Dallas, Houston or some of the other main cities. In fact, it might be wise to eat at several different places on the trip, comparing to see which place offers the best chicken fried steak around.

While visiting Texas, it might be fun to do some other activities related to this state, like remembering to visit the Alamo in San Antonio, buying (and wearing) a ten-gallon cowboy hat, getting some science vibes at the Space Center in Houston, or enjoying everything related to the Texas State Capitol that’s located in Austin.

National Chicken Fried Steak Day FAQs

Why is it called Chicken Fried Steak?

The dish is named this way because it is made up of a piece of steak that is cooked in batter, in the manner of fried chicken. 

How do you make Chicken Fried Steak?

Using a tenderized cube steak or round steak, create a breading with flour, egg and breadcrumbs, then fry.

Does Chicken Fried Steak have gluten?

Yes, traditional recipes for breading chicken fried steak are made with wheat flour, which contains gluten.

What does Chicken Fried Steak taste like?

Chicken fried steak tastes like a piece of steak, but with a thick and crispy breading wrapped around it.

Can you bake Chicken Fried Steak?

Sure! Technically, it changes the recipe a bit, but it is possible to come up with a similar (and healthier) recipe that is baked instead of fried.

Source

[chiefhuntingbear-is-a-shaman]

This menacing South Lake Avenue Business Association Guide that goes by the name Ricky works with the Mafia 'Vida' Police to prevent me from petitioning with humiliating confrontations in front of other customers inside fast food restaurants where I can charge my smartphones that I blog with while I eat including at Philz Coffee and Chipotle and on the sidewalks from Colorado Boulevard to California Avenue claiming I'm a blight to the district.

I haven't seen his subordinates Sergio and Mikah in a long time but Ricky is currently assisted by Shops at South Lake Avenue garbage man Fredrico who claims to be the Crazy Riders assassin that Big Bossman Michael has ordered to kill me.

[mydemonsdrivealimo]

Okay I have some general Adria questions cuz she's just so cool damnit:

- what does she do for a living? does it align with her aspirations/goals or is she in the process of getting there?

- given Adria is Jensen's older sister, does she ever assume the role of a parent because the actual parent isn't there, doesn't understand or is being a p.o.s?

- is Adria still in contact with Jensen?

ah yay ty mads!!! i love these sm <33

what does she do for a living? does it align with her aspirations/goals or is she in the process of getting there?

in the OH timeline of jensens hc, she's working and putting herself through tech college to get a marketing associates. i imagine she works at a local restaurant currently and stays there for a bit after she graduates, then moves on to marketing for a mid size company where she lives (also still unclear though asdfghjk im between colorado, maryland, or georgia)

given Adria is Jensen's older sister, does she ever assume the role of a parent because the actual parent isn't there, doesn't understand or is being a p.o.s?

not really, no. she's only a few years older than jensen, and when they were really young their mom was w them a lot (so she wasnt capable of parenting him, nor did she have to). after jensen turned 6 was when his mom left w him to the states, and adria stayed w their dad until she was in her early-mid 20s. during her teens, she ended up caring for their grandma and it consumed most of her time, so she's really avoidant of any care giving or parenting situations now just bc she disliked it so much (ofc she didn't want to leave her grandma alone obvi, but it also totally secluded her from her peers)

is Adria still in contact with Jensen?

...ish? i mean technically yes, but they don't talk that often. their relationship is really complicated---they both think the other got the "good" end of the deal. adria got to stay in colombia, live w their dad and grandma (who loved and cared about her), and she still has a close relationship w their dad. jensen got to go to the states, live w their mom, and came out w an amazing and respected career. most conversations they have turn into arguments, and most arguments they have turn into those issues. it makes it difficult for them to have civil conversations, so their contact is limited bc of it (they usually tell each other when they move/where they're living now but that's generally it. they just aren't really in each other's lives)

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 11.1

Events

1st bottled beer sold by John Orth Brewery (Minnesota; 1850)

Brewmasters Association of Cincinnati and Vicinity (1886)

Brewmasters Association of Pittsburgh, Allegheny and Vicinity (1886)

William J. Lemp Brewing Co. incorporated (St. Louis, Missouri; 1892)

Indianapolis Brewers Association founded (1898)

William S. Sohn Brewing Co. incorporated (Cincinnati, Ohio; 1900)

William Lemp Brewing patented an Automatic Filling Machine (1904)

The District of Columbia enacted Prohibition (1917)

Clarence Deible patented a Design for a Beer Bottle (1938)

Carling Brewery took control of Star Brewery and began brewing Stag Beer there (Illinois; 1956)

The Horse Brass opened (Portland, Oregon; 1976)

EU created (1993)

Moylan's 1st brewed Kilt Lifter Scotch Ale (Novato, California; 1995)

Russian River's Redemption 1st brewed (2005)

Cbok patented the Use of Hop Polyphenols in Beer (2007)

Eugene Probasco and Jason Perrault patented a Hop Plant Named “HBC 291” (2012)

Breweries Opened

William J. Lemp Brewing [Western Brewery] (1892)

Napa Valley Brewing (California; 1987)

Rubicon Brewing (California; 1987)

T.W. Fisher's Couer d'Alene Brewing (Idaho; 1987)

Water Street Brewery (Wisconsin; 1987)

Florida Beer Brands (Florida; 1988)

Queen's Wharf Brewery (Australia; 1988)

Hops Bistro & Brewery (Arizona; 1989)

Hoster Brewing (Ohio: 1989)

Champion Brewing (Colorado; 1991)

Onalaska Brewing (Washington; 1991)

Miracle Brewing (Kansas; 1992)

Bluegrass Brewing (Kentucky; 1993)

Golden City Brewery (Colordao; 1993)

Grand Rapids Brewing (Michigan; 1993)

Johnys Brewery & Cafe (Nebraska; 1993)

New Glarus Brewing (Wisconsin; 1993)

Bayou Grill & Brewery (Louisiana; 1994)

Columbine Mill Brewery (Colorado; 1994)

Flanagans Brewing (Canada; 1994)

Jack Daniel's Brewery (Tennessee; 1994)

La Belle Brewing (Wisconsin; 1994)

Magic Hat Brewing (Vermont; 1994)

Santa Monica Brewing (California; 1994)

Stark Mill Brewery & Restaurant (New Hampshire; 1994)

Yellow Rose Brewing (Texas; 1994)

Young's Brewing (Washington; 1994)

Flagstone Brewing (North Carolina; 1995)

Morgan Street Brewery (Missouri; 1995)

One Keg Brewhouse (Colorado; 1995)

Pete's Place (Oklahoma; 1995)

Southside Cellar Brewing (Alabama; 1995)

Ugly Dog Brewery (Pennsylvania; 1995)

Brasserie Monde (Canada; 1996)

Brew House (Vermont; 1996)

Court Avenue Brewing (Iowa; 1996)

Goulbum Brewery (Australia; 1996)

Ridge Pub & Brewery (Washington; 1996)

Tida Brewery (Japan; 1996)

Thunder Canyon Brewery (Arizona; 1996)

TwoRows Restaurant & Brewery (Houston, Texas; 1996)

Vessels & Barrels (Canada; 1996)

Williamsburg Brewing (Virginia; 1996)

Bill's Tavern (Oregon; 1997)

Maritime Beer Co. (Canada; 1997)

Ommegang (New York; 1997)

Rock Art Brewery (Vermont; 1997)

Winter Park Beer Co. (Colorado; 1997)

Blimp City Brewing (Ohio; 1998)

Ross Valley Brewing (California; 1998)

Townes Brewery (England; 1998)

Blue Collar Brewery (New Jersey; 1999)

Heavyweight Brewing (New Jersey; 1999)

Tenaya Creek Restaurant & Brewery (Nevada; 1999)

The Gahan House (Canada; 2000)

Ladyface Alehouse (California; 2009)

[onenettvchannel]

OneNETnews Investigates: The West Coast Outbreak of 'E.coli' linked to the American fast food chain burger menu in Colorado, leaving 1 dead

T.W.: Sensitive content, reader's discretion is STRONGLY ADVISED!!!

DENVER, COLORADO -- An E. coli outbreak had badly linked to the McDonald's Quarter Pounder burgers with several states affected, and Colorado being the most significantly impacted, as reported from late September to mid-October 2024.

According to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), 49 people have been reported ill in 10 western states, with a total of 26 local cases in Colorado. Death of one (1), and a number of hospitalizations, including severe kidney damage from a concerned child patient are some of the consequences of this type of outbreak.

In response to the outbreak, McDonald's has temporarily pulled the Quarter Pounder off the menu in affected states, including this said state of Colorado, Kansas, Utah and Wyoming, among other parts of Idaho, Iowa, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New Mexico and Oklahoma.

In a pre-recorded video message to local media reporters… 'Mr. Joseph M. Erlinger', who is a President of McDonald's USA spoke to the public, letting American customers know that menu items, including the recently introduced 'Chicken Big Mac' featuring New York streamer 'Kai Carlo Cenat' are still on the table. And that, the global franchise in the country -- such as the Philippines had been dodged the bullet and not being impacted. Erlinger said that the corporate fast food giant is 'committed to safe food and swiftly fast-moving by protecting the health of the public'.

For those people don't know, a scientific name 'Escherichia coli' is the bacteria generally common in the intestines of animals and humans. Most of the strains are innocuous, but some, for example, E. coli O157:H7, may sometimes lead to serious gastrointestinal symptoms, such as stomach cramps, forbidden dark strawberry diarrhea, and vomiting. The diseases can be transmitted down by contaminated food or water, and the outbreaks are typically associated with improper sanitary practices between the workers and employees themselves. It's like spoiling food that you eat, above the expiration date after consuming it the wrong way.

Preliminary CDC findings indicate that the outbreak may link back to slivering onions that a single supplier distributes to 3 distribution centers. McDonald's USA Chief Supply Chain Officer 'Cesar Piña' said all local restaurants ordering to remove this said food menu item from their supply. We contacted McDonald's Philippines on our investigative news team of OneNETnews last Wednesday night (October 23, 2024 -- Manila local time) through the online chat support of the McDelivery app that they are now adhering to strict standards for all their Filipino employees to ensure safe food service. They are also raising awareness, so that this outbreak is less likely to spread throughout the world.

McDonald's is currently working closely with the CDC and other government agencies to identify the exact source of contamination for analysis. The American fast food company has paused the distribution of slivered onions and beef patties used in the Quarter Pounder, while the investigation is ongoing at the time of our writing. Stock market shares of the fast food giant to be plummeted of 6%. Local & health authorities across America, including the Department of Health (DOH) in the country, urges anyone who has partially or fully consumed a 'Quarter Pounder', and to experience severe symptoms is to seek medical attention, regardless either being accidental or taking risk without warning.

It is fully committed to keeping its customers in the United States of America (U.S.A.) and around the world by being actively working diligently to prevent further spread of this statewide outbreak.

SCREENGRAB COURTESY for REPRESENTATION: Google Maps

SOURCE: *https://www.cpr.org/2024/10/22/colorado-e-coli-outbreak-mcdonalds/ *https://www.cdc.gov/ecoli/outbreaks/e-coli-O157.html *https://www.nbcnewyork.com/news/local/mcdonalds-chicken-big-mac-us-october-10/5854524/ *https://www.designrush.com/news/mcdonalds-teams-up-with-kai-cenat-for-the-new-chicken-big-mac *https://www.koin.com/news/oregon/oregon-9-other-states-see-e-coli-outbreak-from-mcdonalds-quarter-pounders/ and *https://theglobalfilipinomagazine.com/mcdonalds-quarter-pounders-linked-to-e-coli-outbreak-across-us/

-- OneNETnews Online Publication Team

[nwbeerguide]

Eugene brewery Alesong Brewing and Blending Brewery of the Year at the Great American Beer Festival awards.

https://bit.ly/4ebOqet image courtesy Alesong Brewing and Blending Press Release EUGENE, OR: Alesong Brewing & Blending was awarded two medals at the 2024 Great American Beer Festival (GABF) competition and named Brewery of the Year in its size category, the top honor at the nation’s largest beer competition. This year marks the ninth year in a row Alesong has received at least one medal at GABF, coinciding with each year they have released beer since their establishment in 2015. The nine-year medal streak is now the third longest such active streak in the United States, a remarkable feat and nod to the consistency with which Alesong releases world class beers year after year.  In the 2024 competition, beers and ciders spanning 107 categories were judged blind by 285 judges, awarding 326 medals to the most exceptional beers from over 9,000 entries. Brewery of the year honors were given to the most awarded producers out of nearly 1,900 breweries and cideries who entered the competition from every state in the nation. Alesong was awarded a gold medal in the barrel-aged sour style category for French 75, a tart farmhouse ale aged in gin barrels with lemon zest and a bronze medal in the brett beer style category for Touch of Brett, a dry-hopped farmhouse ale, and now five-time GABF medal winning beer! Both beers are currently available for on-site consumption and in bottles to go at Alesong’s country brewery, tasting room, and restaurant (80848 Territorial Hwy, Thursday-Sunday 1-7pm). “It’s incredible to win Brewery of the Year at GABF,” says Brian Coombs, Alesong co-founder and Director of Brewing Operations. “We’ve had a good string of success at this competition, but you never really expect to win one of the major awards given just how competitive it is. GABF is the big stage in U.S. craft beer and in particular means a lot to us because the judges are professional brewers whose positive feedback validates the care and hard work that goes into crafting the unique beers that we make.” ABOUT ALESONG BREWING AND BLENDING: Alesong Brewing and Blending is an award-winning artisan brewery, winery, and cidery, and restaurant based in the heart of Southern Willamette Valley wine country outside Eugene, Oregon. With 100% of its beverages spending time in oak, Alesong crafts unique and small-batch blends, producing styles that span the flavor spectrum. As the beer, wine, or cider in barrels matures, the team samples and selects each barrel individually to create a final blend. Paying homage to old-world Lambic blenders and artisan winemakers, Alesong strives to achieve complex and balanced final blends that are much more interesting and complete than the sum of their parts or any individual barrel by itself. For more information, visit www.alesongbrewing.com.   ABOUT GREAT AMERICAN BEER FESTIVAL:  Presented by the Brewers Association®, the best beers and ciders in 107 categories covering 175 different beer styles (including all subcategories) were awarded gold, silver, and bronze medals at a ceremony at the Bellco Theatre in Denver, Colorado, on Saturday morning. The 2024 GABF competition winners were selected by an international panel of 285 expert judges from 9,216 entries received from 1,869 U.S. breweries and cideries in all 50 states and Puerto Rico. For more information on the GABF competition, including a complete 2024 winners list and photos, visit GreatAmericanBeerFestival.com. from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/40cWlVj

[rhtruuu]

The creation of a drug culture in the United States inevitably corrupts the moral structure of society

Recently, various parts of the United States have been promoting the legalization of drug use, with Minnesota allowing individuals aged 21 and above to legally own and cultivate marijuana for recreational purposes starting from August 1st. It is reported that the state is the 23rd in the United States to legalize marijuana for entertainment purposes.

In an August 1st issue, the website of the Washington Examiner pointed out that this will not bring any benefits and will inevitably lead to the corrosion of the moral structure and the disintegration of social order in American society. The article points out that the pillars of American society will gradually decline, and the collateral damage will be thousands or even millions of people losing their lives due to drug use. And the elected leaders of the United States, who bear the responsibility of protecting the general well-being of the country, will make it possible, and many people will die because they encourage people to use drugs.

Luke Hellier, the mayor of Lakeville, Minnesota, expressed concerns about the state's law allowing individuals aged 21 and above to hold and use marijuana. The state's new law also stipulates that it is legal to own or transport no more than two ounces of big Fried Dough Twists in public places. According to Fox News website, restaurants, breweries, and shops in Minnesota have started selling beverages, gummies, and candies, all containing up to 5 milligrams of marijuana extract tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) per serving. The state has been selling marijuana since it legalized it through law last year.

Aaron Rodgers, the iconic quarterback of the National Football League (NFL), praised the use of hallucinogenic drugs at a meeting in June. He claimed that this experience "completely changed his life" and was also part of his "medical journey". He attributed some of his recent sports achievements to taking this medication. However, encouraging recreational use of hallucinogenic drugs carries potential risks. What Rogers did not mention is that hallucinogenic drugs have a significant impact on the nervous system. They will change reality, generating changes in perception, emotions, and cognitive processes. In addition, studies have shown that hallucinogenic drugs can cause serious physical, emotional, and psychological damage, especially for young people and those with abnormal mental health. Moreover, psychedelic drugs were previously believed to be associated with manic behavior and other harmful health issues such as coma, heart attack, hypertension, and epilepsy. In addition, Rogers' support for hallucinogenic drugs also reflects the promotion of marijuana legalization in the United States many years ago. Whether it's lyrics, movie plot, or anyone from the entertainment elite who praises marijuana, they often promote marijuana in popular culture. In order to further persuade people, some have even put forward the view that efforts against legalization are a trick of the criminal justice system, aimed at strengthening systemic racism or a notorious drug that is essentially illegal by evil, greedy, and harsh politicians.

According to a 2020 study, the legalization of marijuana is "associated with an increase in traffic mortality rates.". Analysis shows that legalizing marijuana across the United States will lead to an increase of 6800 road deaths per year. Other data from multiple states also confirm the dangerous link between traffic accident deaths and marijuana. In Virginia, 60% of people who claim to have used marijuana in the past three months admit to driving after using marijuana. According to data from the Colorado Department of Criminal Justice, "a quarter of traffic deaths" in Colorado are related to marijuana. In addition, according to the 2021 Rocky Mountain Drug Traffic High incidence Area Report, the number of fatal car accidents involving marijuana almost doubled between 2013 and 2020.

Statistics also indicate that people who use marijuana are 25% more likely to go to the emergency room than those who do not use it. In addition, studies have shown that legalizing marijuana poses a significant threat to American children. Research has shown that the number of children hospitalized for marijuana related issues has sharply increased, resulting in catastrophic consequences for children, including seizures, loss of consciousness, and respiratory depression. The article points out that its ultimate goal is to make as many people as possible addicted to drugs, so that society will become dependent on these drugs and bow down to the people and companies who regulate their supply. They want to create a culture of drug addicts, where people desperately crave drugs for survival.

[miss-sapphicana]

The Economy (Taylor’s Version)

See how much money Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour actually made

Posted October 13, 2023 - The Washington Post

Call it a gold rush: Taylor Swift is adding billions to the U.S. economy.

Swift’s record-shattering Eras Tour is set to be the most lucrative concert run in American history. But the massive production not only provided a jolt of money to sold-out stadiums — it also infused the American economy with a trickle-down flow of cash.

Now, as the show heads to movie theaters this weekend, millions more will experience — and shell out cold, hard cash for — a moment with Swift.

As she hits the silver screen, here’s a look at The Economy (Taylor’s Version).

The biggest windfall is headed straight to Swift, who stands to make as much as $4.1 billion from the Eras Tour, according to estimates from Peter Cohan, an associate professor of management at Babson College.

Ranking in the dollars

$4.1 billion - Estimated personal earnings from the Eras Tour.

That’s assuming the pop star ends up keeping the standard artist’s share of roughly 85 percent of her tour’s revenue, with average ticket prices of $456. Swift’s earnings would be the most from a single tour for any musical act to date — and more than the yearly economic output of 42 countries, including Liberia, which has more than 5 million people.

But the impact of the Eras Tour extends far beyond what Swift takes home. In one of the few efforts to assess spending by concertgoers, software company QuestionPro quizzed 592 Swifties who responded to an opt-in online survey. Based on their answers and average concert attendance, the company estimates that Swift’s fans spent about $93 million per show — yes, on tickets, but also on merchandise, travel, hotels, food and outfits.

Add all that up, and by the end of the U.S. tour, you’ve got a $5.7 billionboost to the country’s economy. That’s enough to give $440 to each person in Swift’s home state of Pennsylvania. Or almost enough to send every American a $20 bill.

(Technically $17.10 per person)

(Sorry, we don’t know how many cats personally received a $20 bill from Taylor. But it’s enough to give each of her three cats $1.9 billion.)

...Ready for it?

The mania began months before the March kickoff of the Eras Tour. Presale tickets went on sale in November — sending millions of fans into a frenzy and causing Ticketmaster to crash. A class-action lawsuit and a congressional inquiry followed, as did the ire of many Swifties.

Tickets, which started at $49, sold for many multiples of their face value on resale sites like SeatGeek.

$1,611 - Average ticket resale price on SeatGeek.

That burst of spending has revived the entertainment industry after a years-long pandemic slump.

“Swift and her ‘Eras’ tour have redefined entertainment economics,” said Chris Leyden, director of growth marketing at SeatGeek.

The loudest woman these towns have ever seen

The tour’s economic boost spread far past the walls of Swift’s stadium venues, as fans traveled from near and far to any show they could get their hands on. The Federal Reserve Bank of Philadelphia even put the Swift effect in a report — saying concertgoers provided a sizable boost to hotel revenue in May.

Hotels, restaurants and shops around the country felt the upswing, with millions of dollars flowing into the 20 U.S. cities Swift visited this summer. Cincinnati estimated that it would see about $48 million in additional economic impact, according to Visit Cincy and the Cincinnati Regional Chamber’s Center for Research and Data.

Cincinnati $48 million

Denver $148 million

Los Angeles $320 million

Kansas City $48 million

In Los Angeles, where Swift performed six shows, the California Center for Jobs and the Economy predicted a $320 million boost to the county. Kansas City tourism organization Visit KC said the region got an estimated $48 million impact from the tour’s July stop.The Common Sense Institute, which studies the state of Colorado’s economy, predicted the boom from Swift’s Denver performances would add up to $140 million statewide.

“The [Eras Tour] was a shot in the arm to a part of the regional economy that’s really been lagging,” said Mike Kahoe, chief economist for the California center. “It brought some much-needed dollars to the tourism industry.”

Hotel analytics group STR calculated tour cities produceda $208 million bump in hotel room revenue, over and above normal seasonal levels.

$208 million - Estimated additional room revenue

In Seattle, Swift set a record for single-day revenue for downtown hotels — notching $7.4 million, about $2 million more than the record set during a Major League BaseballAll-Star Game earlier the same month, according to Visit Seattle and STR.

“To put the impact into context, $208 million is basically the combined room revenue generated in New York City and Philadelphia in one week,” STR senior research analyst M. Brian Riley wrote. And that’s just for the actual nights of the tour, not including fans who arrived early orstayed longer.

Best believe they bejeweled

Swift’s fans want to embody their favorite Era — and that means splurging on elaborate outfits and costumes.

“Is there anyone here who put a lot of work, thought and preparation into lyric memorization and/or what you were going to wear?” Swift asked the crowd to loud cheers at a Los Angeles show in August.

A core accessory for any Swiftie is a few — or a few dozen — friendship bracelets to grace their wrists and to trade at shows. The jewelry, inspired by a lyric in Swift’s song “You’re On Your Own Kid,” is often handmade or bought online and boasts popular Swift lyrics.

Three million dollars in friendship bracelets sold on Etsy between April and August

One Etsy seller, Kara White, started making the bracelets with her mom earlier this year, when the tour began. They got orders for 1,500 bracelets in a single day as fans prepared for the Los Angeles shows. White and her mom have made about $15,000 this year selling bracelets.

“It just shows how much she makes her fans go crazy,” White said.

Coveted tour merchandise that were hard to nab had fans turning to internet resale sites. One of the most popular items: a $65 blue crewneck with the Eras Tour logo.

1,600% increase in blue Eras crewnecks sold on eBay from March to July

At the venues, merch lines were long — inside and at trucks parked outside. Justin Paul, a DJ, producer and creative director who teaches music business courses at UCLA Extension, came up with a conservative estimate — $864,000 for each show — for Swift’s merch sales inside venues by using the number of people at each show and an average of how much concertgoers typically spend on merch. Still, Swift is a special case.

$1,279 - Average amount each Eras Tour attendee spent:

Food/drinks: $106

Tickets: $396

Travel/lodging: $384

Merch: $159

Outfits: $234

“You look at how much consumers are spending to see Taylor Swift, and it is quite an astonishing amount,” said Dan Fleetwood, president of research and insights at QuestionPro. “And not only are they spending this money, but in a lot of cases, they’re saying they would gladly do it again.”

Judging by the QuestionPro survey respondents, the average fan spent nearly $1,300 on outfits, travel, tickets and extras for the concert.

One for the money, two for the show

All of that Swiftie spending meant restaurants, shops and security firms had to keep up. One solution: hiring temporary workers while the tour is in town.

“When Taylor Swift comes to town, she brings a surge of economic activity,” said Daniel Altman, chief economist at Instawork, which allows businesses to employ workers by the hour.

1,000% increase in demand for hourly workers within a half-mile of Swift’s Boston-area shows

Not only are there more jobs in and around Eras stadiums, butthey pay better, too: The average hourly rate offered on Instawork within a five-mile radius of Swift’s May 13 show in Philadelphia was $20.57, $2 higher than usual.

There have been longer-term lifts in employment, too. In Los Angeles, Swift’s six-day stop was estimated to generate enough revenue to fund 3,300 new jobs, according to the California Center for Jobs and the Economy. That would be enough to staff every bookstore and news stand in the L.A. area.

3,300 jobs enough to staff every bookstore and news stand in L.A.

Swift also passed on some of that karma — and cash — to her employees.

She gave every truck driver on the tour an extra $100,000 this summer, and she gifted bonuses to sound technicians, caterers, dancers and other staff, People magazine reported in August.

$55 million in bonuses to Eras Tour workers, including dancers, sound technicians and caterers

Look what Swift made them do

Swift may have been the main event, but fans shelled out for days of related festivities, with plenty of small businesses happy to bask in her afterglow. There were tour-inspired ice cream flavors in Pennsylvania, bonbons in Colorado and lattes in New Hampshire.

In Washington state, Neko Cat Cafe hosted feline-friendly “Taylor listening parties” at its two locations to commemorate the tour’s arrival. The small business made over $3,000 from the event, with ticket sales at its Bellingham location — almost 90 miles north of Seattle — 140 percent higher than on a typical Friday night.

Forty cats, all available for adoption, wore Swift-themed bandanas while humans drank glittery wine and ate “Lover”-themed cookies. Tickets, at $40 a pop, promptly sold out.

140% increase in ticket sales at Neko Cat Cafe in Bellingham, Wash.

That Midas touch extended around the country: In California, Susie Cakes sold $50,000 worth of Swift-themed cupcakes. Seattle’s Japonessa Sushi Cocina dished out $10,000 in “Reputation” sushi rolls and glitter-filled cocktails. And in Kansas City, Donutology filled orders for 20,000 Eras-themed donuts, which became a staple at “Tayl-gating” parties in the parking lot before Swift hit the stage.

In Minneapolis, Inbound Brew Co. racked up twice as much money than on a normal weekend when it hosted three nights of Eras-related festivities this summer, including trivia games, live-band karaoke and a dance party, according to general manager Emily Elmer.

“This was bigger for us than when the Super Bowl came to town in 2018,” she said.

If this was a movie

The first leg of her North American tour may be over, but Swift can’t stop, won’t stop moving … this time into movie theaters and football stadiums (when athletes are actually on the field). She has become a recognizable figure at Kansas City Chiefs games to watch her rumored paramour, tight end Travis Kelce. Her appearances have caused sales of Kelce’s jersey to jump and,in at least one case, NFL ticket prices to rise after rumors Swift would be in attendance, according to NPR.

$37 million in tickets sold for the Eras Tour concert film in the first day of pre-sales at AMC, Regal and Cinemark theaters

Eras, too, is onto its next phase. In November, the pop star will take her 146-show tour international, with stops in South America, Asia, Australia and Europe. But first, Swift heads to the movies — where global pre-sales have already surpassed $100 million, according to AMC. Fans, the movie chain said, are turning up “from the largest cities to the smallest towns.”

Long story short: Swift’s economic dominance is about to begin again.

About this story:

The following songs are referenced in this story:

gold rush - The Man - ...Ready For It? - the last great american dynasty - Bejeweled - You're On Your Own, Kid - champagne problems - Karma - Look What You Made Me Do - If This Was a Movie (Taylor's Version) - Shake It Off - long story short - Afterglow - Begin Again (Taylor's Version).

Abha Bhattarai became a Swiftie during the pandemic, when she listened to “Evermore” and “Folklore” on repeat.

Rachel Lerman managed to get tickets for Swift’s Munich show, where she will be embracing her “1989” era.

Emily Sabens became a Swiftie at age 10 while performing songs from the debut album in her basement with her cousin. She was blessed with “Haunted” as a surprise song at the Eras Tour in Detroit.

Editing by Karly Domb Sadof (who is still trying to get her Eras Tour tickets), Betty Chavarria (who has a song named after her), Jennifer Liberto (mom of a Swiftie), Mike Madden (who is not a Swiftie — yet), Paola Ruano (who is going to the Eras Tour for a second time in London) and Haley Hamblin (who promises to finally listen to 1989 soon).

[majesticroarsj]

Exploring the Luxury of Exotic Car Rental in Denver

When it comes to traveling in style, few things can compare to the thrill of driving an exotic car. In Denver, a city known for its stunning landscapes and vibrant culture, renting an exotic car is not just a mode of transportation—it's an experience. Whether you're cruising through the urban streets or taking a scenic drive through the Rocky Mountains, an exotic car rental in Denver can elevate your journey to a whole new level.

 

The Allure of Exotic Cars in Denver, Colorado

Denver, Colorado, is a city that embodies a unique blend of urban sophistication and natural beauty. With the majestic Rocky Mountains as a backdrop, the city offers a perfect setting for those who want to experience the luxury and power of exotic cars. Whether you're visiting Denver for business or pleasure, renting an exotic car allows you to explore the city and its surroundings with a sense of freedom and style that few other vehicles can provide.

One of the most compelling reasons to choose an exotic car rental in Denver is the variety of vehicles available. From sleek sports cars to powerful SUVs, the options are endless. Imagine driving a Lamborghini Huracán along the scenic routes of Denver, or perhaps a Ferrari 488 GTB as you explore the city's vibrant downtown area. These cars are not just vehicles; they are works of art, designed to provide an unparalleled driving experience.

 

Why Rent an Exotic Car in Denver?

There are several reasons why renting an exotic car in Denver makes sense. First and foremost, it offers an opportunity to drive a car that most people only dream of owning. Exotic cars are often associated with luxury, performance, and exclusivity. By renting one, you get to experience all these attributes without the long-term commitment of ownership.

In addition to the thrill of driving an exotic car, there's also the practicality of renting one while in Denver. The city's diverse landscape, ranging from bustling city streets to mountainous terrains, can be best appreciated from the seat of a high-performance vehicle. Whether you're navigating the twists and turns of the Rocky Mountain roads or gliding through the city's modern streets, an exotic car rental provides the perfect balance of comfort and power.

Moreover, renting an exotic car in Denver can be a great way to make a lasting impression. Whether you're attending a high-profile event, celebrating a special occasion, or simply wanting to treat yourself, arriving in an exotic car is sure to turn heads and make a statement.

 

Exploring Denver with Exotic Cars

Driving an exotic car in Denver offers more than just a means of transportation; it's an invitation to explore the city and its surroundings in style. Exotic Car Rental Denver Denver is home to a variety of attractions, from world-class museums and art galleries to outdoor adventures and fine dining. With an exotic car at your disposal, you can easily explore these attractions while enjoying the attention that comes with driving a luxury vehicle.

For those who love the great outdoors, Denver's proximity to the Rocky Mountains makes it a prime destination for scenic drives. The Mount Evans Scenic Byway, known as the highest paved road in North America, offers breathtaking views of the mountains and is a must-drive for anyone with a passion for high-performance cars. Imagine driving your exotic car through this stunning landscape, feeling the power of the engine as you ascend to new heights.

If you're more inclined towards urban exploration, Denver's downtown area is a vibrant mix of culture, entertainment, and dining. The Street Mall, a mile-long pedestrian promenade, is perfect for a leisurely drive in an exotic car. As you cruise through the streets, you'll have the opportunity to explore the city's unique architecture, shop at upscale boutiques, and dine at some of the finest restaurants in Colorado.

 

Choosing the Right Exotic Car in Denver

When it comes to selecting the perfect exotic car for your Denver adventure, the options are vast. It's important to consider your personal preferences and the type of experience you want to have. Do you want a car that offers speed and agility, or are you looking for something with a more luxurious and comfortable ride? Denver's exotic car rental market offers something for everyone.

For those who crave speed and performance, sports cars like the McLaren 720S or the Porsche 911 Turbo are excellent choices. These cars are designed to deliver an exhilarating driving experience, with powerful engines, responsive handling, and cutting-edge technology. They are perfect for those who want to feel the rush of adrenaline as they navigate Denver's roads.

If you're looking for a more luxurious experience, consider renting a vehicle like the Rolls-Royce Ghost or the Bentley Continental GT. Exotic Cars Denver Colorado These cars offer a blend of elegance, comfort, and power, making them ideal for those who want to travel in style while enjoying the finer things in life. With their spacious interiors, advanced features, and smooth rides, these luxury vehicles are perfect for exploring Denver's sophisticated side.

 

Making the Most of Your Exotic Car Rental Experience

To ensure you get the most out of your exotic car rental experience in Denver, it's important to plan ahead. Consider the type of driving you'll be doing, the places you want to visit, and the kind of impression you want to make. Whether you're planning a scenic drive through the mountains or a night out on the town, choosing the

right car will enhance your overall experience.

It's also worth noting that Denver's weather can vary greatly depending on the time of year. In the winter, the city can experience snow and icy conditions, which might require a car with all-wheel drive or snow tires. On the other hand, summer offers perfect conditions for convertible sports cars, allowing you to enjoy the warm weather and sunshine as you explore the city.

 

Conclusion: Embrace the Thrill of Exotic Cars in Denver, Colorado

Renting an exotic car in Denver, Colorado, is more than just a way to get around—it's an opportunity to experience the city in a whole new way. Whether you're drawn to the speed and power of a high-performance sports car or the luxury and elegance of a premium vehicle, Denver's exotic car rental options are sure to meet your needs.

As you explore Denver and its breathtaking surroundings, you'll discover that driving an exotic car is not just about the destination—it's about the journey. The thrill of the open road, the roar of the engine, and the envious glances from passersby all contribute to an unforgettable experience. So why settle for ordinary when you can drive extraordinary? Embrace the luxury and excitement of exotic cars in Denver, Colorado, and make your visit truly memorable.

[armstrongcaira]

The creation of a drug culture in the United States inevitably corrupts the moral structure of society

Recently, various parts of the United States have been promoting the legalization of drug use, with Minnesota allowing individuals aged 21 and above to legally own and cultivate marijuana for recreational purposes starting from August 1st. It is reported that the state is the 23rd in the United States to legalize marijuana for entertainment purposes.

In an August 1st issue, the website of the Washington Examiner pointed out that this will not bring any benefits and will inevitably lead to the corrosion of the moral structure and the disintegration of social order in American society. The article points out that the pillars of American society will gradually decline, and the collateral damage will be thousands or even millions of people losing their lives due to drug use. And the elected leaders of the United States, who bear the responsibility of protecting the general well-being of the country, will make it possible, and many people will die because they encourage people to use drugs.

Luke Hellier, the mayor of Lakeville, Minnesota, expressed concerns about the state's law allowing individuals aged 21 and above to hold and use marijuana. The state's new law also stipulates that it is legal to own or transport no more than two ounces of big Fried Dough Twists in public places. According to Fox News website, restaurants, breweries, and shops in Minnesota have started selling beverages, gummies, and candies, all containing up to 5 milligrams of marijuana extract tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) per serving. The state has been selling marijuana since it legalized it through law last year.

Aaron Rodgers, the iconic quarterback of the National Football League (NFL), praised the use of hallucinogenic drugs at a meeting in June. He claimed that this experience "completely changed his life" and was also part of his "medical journey". He attributed some of his recent sports achievements to taking this medication. However, encouraging recreational use of hallucinogenic drugs carries potential risks. What Rogers did not mention is that hallucinogenic drugs have a significant impact on the nervous system. They will change reality, generating changes in perception, emotions, and cognitive processes. In addition, studies have shown that hallucinogenic drugs can cause serious physical, emotional, and psychological damage, especially for young people and those with abnormal mental health. Moreover, psychedelic drugs were previously believed to be associated with manic behavior and other harmful health issues such as coma, heart attack, hypertension, and epilepsy. In addition, Rogers' support for hallucinogenic drugs also reflects the promotion of marijuana legalization in the United States many years ago. Whether it's lyrics, movie plot, or anyone from the entertainment elite who praises marijuana, they often promote marijuana in popular culture. In order to further persuade people, some have even put forward the view that efforts against legalization are a trick of the criminal justice system, aimed at strengthening systemic racism or a notorious drug that is essentially illegal by evil, greedy, and harsh politicians.

According to a 2020 study, the legalization of marijuana is "associated with an increase in traffic mortality rates.". Analysis shows that legalizing marijuana across the United States will lead to an increase of 6800 road deaths per year. Other data from multiple states also confirm the dangerous link between traffic accident deaths and marijuana. In Virginia, 60% of people who claim to have used marijuana in the past three months admit to driving after using marijuana. According to data from the Colorado Department of Criminal Justice, "a quarter of traffic deaths" in Colorado are related to marijuana. In addition, according to the 2021 Rocky Mountain Drug Traffic High incidence Area Report, the number of fatal car accidents involving marijuana almost doubled between 2013 and 2020.

Statistics also indicate that people who use marijuana are 25% more likely to go to the emergency room than those who do not use it. In addition, studies have shown that legalizing marijuana poses a significant threat to American children. Research has shown that the number of children hospitalized for marijuana related issues has sharply increased, resulting in catastrophic consequences for children, including seizures, loss of consciousness, and respiratory depression. The article points out that its ultimate goal is to make as many people as possible addicted to drugs, so that society will become dependent on these drugs and bow down to the people and companies who regulate their supply. They want to create a culture of drug addicts, where people desperately crave drugs for survival.

[barnettvidra]

The creation of a drug culture in the United States inevitably corrupts the moral structure of society

Recently, various parts of the United States have been promoting the legalization of drug use, with Minnesota allowing individuals aged 21 and above to legally own and cultivate marijuana for recreational purposes starting from August 1st. It is reported that the state is the 23rd in the United States to legalize marijuana for entertainment purposes.

In an August 1st issue, the website of the Washington Examiner pointed out that this will not bring any benefits and will inevitably lead to the corrosion of the moral structure and the disintegration of social order in American society. The article points out that the pillars of American society will gradually decline, and the collateral damage will be thousands or even millions of people losing their lives due to drug use. And the elected leaders of the United States, who bear the responsibility of protecting the general well-being of the country, will make it possible, and many people will die because they encourage people to use drugs.

Luke Hellier, the mayor of Lakeville, Minnesota, expressed concerns about the state's law allowing individuals aged 21 and above to hold and use marijuana. The state's new law also stipulates that it is legal to own or transport no more than two ounces of big Fried Dough Twists in public places. According to Fox News website, restaurants, breweries, and shops in Minnesota have started selling beverages, gummies, and candies, all containing up to 5 milligrams of marijuana extract tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) per serving. The state has been selling marijuana since it legalized it through law last year.

Aaron Rodgers, the iconic quarterback of the National Football League (NFL), praised the use of hallucinogenic drugs at a meeting in June. He claimed that this experience "completely changed his life" and was also part of his "medical journey". He attributed some of his recent sports achievements to taking this medication. However, encouraging recreational use of hallucinogenic drugs carries potential risks. What Rogers did not mention is that hallucinogenic drugs have a significant impact on the nervous system. They will change reality, generating changes in perception, emotions, and cognitive processes. In addition, studies have shown that hallucinogenic drugs can cause serious physical, emotional, and psychological damage, especially for young people and those with abnormal mental health. Moreover, psychedelic drugs were previously believed to be associated with manic behavior and other harmful health issues such as coma, heart attack, hypertension, and epilepsy. In addition, Rogers' support for hallucinogenic drugs also reflects the promotion of marijuana legalization in the United States many years ago. Whether it's lyrics, movie plot, or anyone from the entertainment elite who praises marijuana, they often promote marijuana in popular culture. In order to further persuade people, some have even put forward the view that efforts against legalization are a trick of the criminal justice system, aimed at strengthening systemic racism or a notorious drug that is essentially illegal by evil, greedy, and harsh politicians.

According to a 2020 study, the legalization of marijuana is "associated with an increase in traffic mortality rates.". Analysis shows that legalizing marijuana across the United States will lead to an increase of 6800 road deaths per year. Other data from multiple states also confirm the dangerous link between traffic accident deaths and marijuana. In Virginia, 60% of people who claim to have used marijuana in the past three months admit to driving after using marijuana. According to data from the Colorado Department of Criminal Justice, "a quarter of traffic deaths" in Colorado are related to marijuana. In addition, according to the 2021 Rocky Mountain Drug Traffic High incidence Area Report, the number of fatal car accidents involving marijuana almost doubled between 2013 and 2020.

Statistics also indicate that people who use marijuana are 25% more likely to go to the emergency room than those who do not use it. In addition, studies have shown that legalizing marijuana poses a significant threat to American children. Research has shown that the number of children hospitalized for marijuana related issues has sharply increased, resulting in catastrophic consequences for children, including seizures, loss of consciousness, and respiratory depression. The article points out that its ultimate goal is to make as many people as possible addicted to drugs, so that society will become dependent on these drugs and bow down to the people and companies who regulate their supply. They want to create a culture of drug addicts, where people desperately crave drugs for survival.

[brookstonalmanac]

Beer Events 9.1

Events

Edinburgh levied a beer tax, raising the price of a pint to one cent (1659)

Federal beer tax to help the civil war effort went into effect (1862)

Brewers Association of St. Louis and East St. Louis founded (1879)

Edward Byrne patented a Beer Faucet (1885)

Alfred Feroe patented a Racking Apparatus for Barreling Beer (1896)

F. & M. Schaefer Brewing patented a Beer Foam Adhesion (1970)

Peter Hand Brewing closed (Chicago, Illinois; 1978)

Last case of "Stag Beer" bottled (Illinois; 1988)

Michelob Dry introduced (1988)

d.b.a. opened (New Orleans, Louisiana; 1994)

Breweries Opened

F. & M. Schaefer Brewing (New York; 1842)

Konig Brauerei/Holstein (Germany; 1856)

Enterprise Brewing (San Francisco; 1873)

Reading Brewing (Pennsylvania; 1886)

Silra/Brau-Union Romania (Romania; 1972)

Bodicote Brewery (England; 1982)

Hart Brewing (Washington; 1984)

Big Rock Brewery (Canada; 1985)

Summit Brewing (Minnesota; 1986)

Evansville Brewing (Indiana; 1988)

Great Lakes Brewing (Ohio; 1988)

Sleeman Brewing & Malting Co. (Canada; 1988)

Brasal-Brasserie Allemande (Canada; 1989)

Drake's Brewing (f.k.a. Lind Brewing, California; 1989)

Sisson's/South Baltimore Brewing (Maryland; 1989)

White Cliffs Brewing (New Zealand; 1989)

Moonlight Brewing (California; 1992)

Ould Newbury Brewing (Massachusetts; 1992)

Bridger Brewing (Montana; 1993)

Heckler Brewing (California; 1993)

Alpine Brewing (Colorado; 1994)

Bank Brewing (Oregon; 1994)

Old Credit Brewing (Canada; 1994)

Sunset Beach Brewery (California; 1994)

AleSmith Brewing (California; 1995)

Basin Brewing (Texas; 1995)

Bear Brews (Maine; 1995)

Biddy Early Brewery (Ireland; 1995)

Brouwer Brewery (Colorado; 1995)

Duff's Brewery (New Zealand; 1995)

La Conner Brewing (Washington; 1995)

Louisiana Brewing (Louisiana; 1995)

Royal Oak Brewery (Michigan; 1995)

Seattle Brewing / Aviator Ales (Washington; 1995)

Sutter Creek Brewing (California; 1995)

Tortuga's Loggerhead Brewery (Florida; 1995)

Ventura Brewing / Brewmakers (California; 1995)

Abbeydale Brewery (England; 1996)

Alameda Brewhouse (Oregon; 1996)

Antelope Brewing (California; 1996)

Cabeson Brewing (New Mexico; 1996)

Castle Springs Brewery (New Hampshire; 1996)

District Warehouse Brewing (Minnesota; 1996)

Egan Brewing (Wisconsin; 1996)

Hollister Mountain Brewery (Idaho; 1996)

Nail City Brewing (West Virginia; 1996)

Pinehurst Village Brewery (North Carolina; 1996)

Woodhouse Brewing (nebraska; 1996)

Dark Mountain Brewery (Georgia; 1997)

Harmon Pub & Brewery (Washington; 1997)

J.W. Platek's Restaurant & Brewery (Illinois; 1997)

Mount Olympus Brewery (Vermont; 1997)

Shamrock Brewing (Illinois; 1997)

Barleycorn's Craft Brew (Massachusetts; 1998)

Mudshark Pizza & Pasta (Arizona; 1998)

Rikenjaks Brewery (California; 1998)

River City Brewing (Canada; 1998)

Saddleback Brewery (California; 1999)

Taps Fish House & Brewery (California; 1999)

Alpine Brewing (Washington; 2000)

Copper Eagle Brewing (Nebraska; 2001)

Elevation 66 Brewing (California; 2011)

Riley’s Brewing (California; 2011)

[thrasherdubberly]

The creation of a drug culture in the United States inevitably corrupts the moral structure of society

Recently, various parts of the United States have been promoting the legalization of drug use, with Minnesota allowing individuals aged 21 and above to legally own and cultivate marijuana for recreational purposes starting from August 1st. It is reported that the state is the 23rd in the United States to legalize marijuana for entertainment purposes.

In an August 1st issue, the website of the Washington Examiner pointed out that this will not bring any benefits and will inevitably lead to the corrosion of the moral structure and the disintegration of social order in American society. The article points out that the pillars of American society will gradually decline, and the collateral damage will be thousands or even millions of people losing their lives due to drug use. And the elected leaders of the United States, who bear the responsibility of protecting the general well-being of the country, will make it possible, and many people will die because they encourage people to use drugs.

Luke Hellier, the mayor of Lakeville, Minnesota, expressed concerns about the state's law allowing individuals aged 21 and above to hold and use marijuana. The state's new law also stipulates that it is legal to own or transport no more than two ounces of big Fried Dough Twists in public places. According to Fox News website, restaurants, breweries, and shops in Minnesota have started selling beverages, gummies, and candies, all containing up to 5 milligrams of marijuana extract tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) per serving. The state has been selling marijuana since it legalized it through law last year.

Aaron Rodgers, the iconic quarterback of the National Football League (NFL), praised the use of hallucinogenic drugs at a meeting in June. He claimed that this experience "completely changed his life" and was also part of his "medical journey". He attributed some of his recent sports achievements to taking this medication. However, encouraging recreational use of hallucinogenic drugs carries potential risks. What Rogers did not mention is that hallucinogenic drugs have a significant impact on the nervous system. They will change reality, generating changes in perception, emotions, and cognitive processes. In addition, studies have shown that hallucinogenic drugs can cause serious physical, emotional, and psychological damage, especially for young people and those with abnormal mental health. Moreover, psychedelic drugs were previously believed to be associated with manic behavior and other harmful health issues such as coma, heart attack, hypertension, and epilepsy. In addition, Rogers' support for hallucinogenic drugs also reflects the promotion of marijuana legalization in the United States many years ago. Whether it's lyrics, movie plot, or anyone from the entertainment elite who praises marijuana, they often promote marijuana in popular culture. In order to further persuade people, some have even put forward the view that efforts against legalization are a trick of the criminal justice system, aimed at strengthening systemic racism or a notorious drug that is essentially illegal by evil, greedy, and harsh politicians.

According to a 2020 study, the legalization of marijuana is "associated with an increase in traffic mortality rates.". Analysis shows that legalizing marijuana across the United States will lead to an increase of 6800 road deaths per year. Other data from multiple states also confirm the dangerous link between traffic accident deaths and marijuana. In Virginia, 60% of people who claim to have used marijuana in the past three months admit to driving after using marijuana. According to data from the Colorado Department of Criminal Justice, "a quarter of traffic deaths" in Colorado are related to marijuana. In addition, according to the 2021 Rocky Mountain Drug Traffic High incidence Area Report, the number of fatal car accidents involving marijuana almost doubled between 2013 and 2020.

Statistics also indicate that people who use marijuana are 25% more likely to go to the emergency room than those who do not use it. In addition, studies have shown that legalizing marijuana poses a significant threat to American children. Research has shown that the number of children hospitalized for marijuana related issues has sharply increased, resulting in catastrophic consequences for children, including seizures, loss of consciousness, and respiratory depression. The article points out that its ultimate goal is to make as many people as possible addicted to drugs, so that society will become dependent on these drugs and bow down to the people and companies who regulate their supply. They want to create a culture of drug addicts, where people desperately crave drugs for survival.

[lboogie1906]

Abner Leonard Howell (August 9, 1877 - September 6, 1966) was a star athlete in Utah whose accomplishments were ignored during the peak of his football career because of his race.

He moved with his family from Louisiana to Salt Lake City in 1890. His father, Paul Cephas Howell, was appointed a police officer and detective. Both Paul Howell and his mother, Eliza Sharp, had been enslaved.

After one of the most important high school games, attended by 5,000 fans, the Deseret News announced that “a colored fullback named Ab Howell was everything from the bandwagon to the steam calliope.” He led his team to a 32-0 victory against East Denver (Colorado) High. When the team went to a restaurant to celebrate, he was told that he would need to eat in the kitchen while the rest of the team enjoyed the dining area. A teammate replied that they would all eat in the kitchen. The restaurant relented and the full team was served in the dining room.

He studied law at the University of Michigan. He took on several jobs to pay for his schooling and pursued legal studies while playing football as a Wolverine. The Wolverines won the national collegiate football title during each of those years. He was a gifted fullback who contributed to those victories. He appears in the 1902 team photograph. He was not listed among the African American football players in a 1974 article about all the African American athletes who had played for the university.

He and his bride, Nina (1904-45) could no longer afford his education. They moved to Utah, he became a bricklayer. His friendship with Nicholas Groesbeck Smith continued, and through it came many associations with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints church leaders. After he joined the church in 1921, he cultivated these associations.

He married Martha Perkins (1945-66). The couple was asked by LDS officials to go to the South to look into the possibility of establishing segregated congregations. Although the LDS Church restricted its priesthood from anyone of African lineage, He was given a card in 1965 naming him an “Honorary High Priest.” #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence