#Tax Savings on Trucks

[bayshoretruckcenter]

Drive your business forward with smart tax savings today!

Unlock unmatched power and incredible savings with Western Star Trucks at Bayshore Truck Center! Take advantage of Section 179 tax deductions to invest in the reliable, heavy-duty truck you need while reducing your taxable income. Whether you're hauling, building, or moving, Western Star delivers unmatched performance and durability.

[dailyautophagy]

[ryanthedemiboy]

Or staying with a family member on their trailer next to a lake. Or hitching a ride with their parents with their someplace they had already planned on going and paying for food and minigolf (why is it always minigolf?), or renting the cheapest RV for a weekend to go to the ocean, etc.

Also, poor people can save money. Some poor people save money for vacations. That's something they're allowed to do.

Okay, I completely understand that getting time off work can be a Sisyphean ordeal these days, but every time I run into the whole "only rich people go on vacation" discourse I'm thinking surely I'm not the only one whose childhood experience of "going on vacation" was piling everybody into the car and driving for six hours to pay twenty dollars a day for the privilege of setting up some leaky tents on a fifty-foot-by-fifty-foot patch of dirt next to a mosquito-infested pond in a "private campground" whose only standout features were a. an outdoor miniature golf course that hadn't been maintained in twenty years, and b. a truly breathtaking fire ant population.

[ritzperez]

Boosting Your Bottom Line: Understanding Commercial Incentives for Truck-Based Businesses

Depending on the type of truck you purchase for your business, you can find an array of federal and state incentives available to you. For instance, if you purchase an electric or hybrid work truck, you can find incentives that save your small business money.

https://www.bayshoreford.com/blog/2024/december/24/boosting-your-bottom-line-understanding-commercial-incentives-for-truck-based-businesses.htm

[joshhamilton11]

How A Tax Accountant For Truck Drivers Can Save You Money?

A tax accountant for truck drivers specializes in maximizing deductions, such as fuel, maintenance, and travel expenses, while ensuring compliance with tax regulations. By accurately tracking business expenses, they help minimize taxable income, potentially saving significant amounts. Additionally, they can advise on tax credits, fuel tax refunds, and retirement plans, optimizing your financial situation.

[artisticdivasworld]

How to Upgrade Your Truck Without Breaking the Bank: A Guide for the Individual Trucker

The new EPA regulations are probably the last thing you want to hear about right now. It feels like every time we turn around, there’s another rule or restriction. And honestly, it’s frustrating! But before you throw your hands up in anger, let’s talk about how these changes could actually work in your favor and, more importantly, what options are out there to help you upgrade your trucks without…

[leolynn]

i simultaneously know more than average and nothing at all about the products i sell daily at work. someone will call with a question i cannot even begin to answer but the same day i’ll have a conversation explaining that yes diesel is dyed red when it’s for off-road use you should probably not put that in your truck

[sordidamok]

Did they get anything right with this ugly piece of trash?

Someone needs to look into how the government allowed this death trap onto public roads so quickly and easily. I mean, we all know why 💵 but maybe someone needs to be held accountable for this ginormous oversight.

As always, please remember that Elon’s “genius” is all smoke and mirrors + a trumpian scale public relations grift.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Poisoned Cups

I hadn't adjusted well, at first. I don't think anyone could have. Being an elf sound cool, on paper. The better eye sight, the incredible hearing, the stamina. All sorts of perks right? But what they don't tell you, is that when your soul is human? When you get isekai'd by some divine oversight or fucker with a truck?

It doesn't adapt that well, to a new body. Your soul INSISTS you should still be human, with all the trappings, and throws a FIT, when you just.... aren't. So you end up with migraines. Eyes that swim in and out of focus. Wheezing, struggling, breathe. A body at war with itself.

The world was so loud. Too loud. I could hear EVERYTHING and it HURT. Couldn't breathe and THAT hurt. Was nauseated all the time, from my eyes refusing to focus properly. That too, hurt. All of it, pain. Just? Pain. Day after day, pain pain pain.

My poor parents were helpless. The doctors struggled.

But the King? HE could save me.

And he did.

He was younger then. Just barely into his rule. His Father having just stepped down. My parents, desperate, brought me before him. Waited in line for days. They didn't even know if he COULD do anything, were grimly prepared for him to say that sadly, nothing COULD be done. But? Instead? He looked me over, called for several old texts, looked again, then called upon the strength of the Throne.

My parents apparently started weeping the second I stopped.

All I remember is the pain going away. Being exhausted. A REALLY pretty elf man in a crown. Things getting... better, after that.

I was told that story often, as a child. It utterly transformed our household. From merely loyal citizens, to devote Loyalists. Speaking ill of the King in THIS house? Would now get you HURT. My parents had been convinced they were going to LOSE me. The King as far as they were concerned, saved my LIFE.

Which is why I didn't put anything together. Seeing as we were an "all King all the time" Sort of house. We had one(1) team and we were sticking to it. Permanently. His son? Eeeeh, maybe. We'd figure that out later. We didn't care to know. And I was too busy with school work to CHECK.

Which? Meant I didn't NOTICE? He looked? More and more... Otome Capture Target as time went on. Specifically, he looked kinda crown prince from "Dance of the Secret Forest! A True Love For Me?!" sort of Shaped. Which... gee, what ARE the odds? Especially given that so many OTHER things are named suspiciously similar or exactly the same to that game?

.........yeeeeeah. I decided not to take chances.

I looked that shit UP.

And wouldn't you know it? Protagonist-chan? Not there yet. But she SURE COULD BE! All the legends were EXACTLY what they should be. Forests and locations the same! PEOPLE the same! Oh HELL no. Good to know where NOT to be, I guess.

Not my circus, NOT my Otome Drama Monkeys.

I? Would be working for the KING. My family owed him a debt.

And when I graduated? I applied. Top of my class. I studied my ASS off. Could have gone anywhere. But I was aiming for the TOP. A debt to be repayed and frankly? Excellent job security on top of it! So filling busy work in dusty ass backrooms it was. Gotta start from the bottom, after all.

I exhausted them. Was honestly barely trying too at that point. They should see me TRYING to put my nose to the grindstone. Burn the midnight oil! Ha! HA, I say! Long elven lifespans slow you all down! I? Used to live in a capitalist hellscape! This is NOTHING.

I'm not even multi-tasking. It's not even LUNCH YET.

Did I get promoted? Yes. Do I worry my coworkers? Deeply! But shit needs doing and we don't have all day! There is a nation to run! Have some tea. Eat a turnover. Now~! Where are my fuckin documents~☆?

I get promoted again.

Then again.

Aaaaand again.

I'm pretty sure it's cause I scare people. Am FAST. Efficient. Willing to hunt my coworkers for SPORT, like a god damned bloodhound, if it means we get that one extra tax document that makes or breaks us. I have (and will again if necessary) climbed through people's fucking WALLS. Cause, honestly? If they wanted to stop me?

They should have warded the gods damned vents.

Fuckin casuals. Get on my level.

So, now? I am the baby. King's inner circle. And EVERYONE? Is damn near twice my age! And, granted, yes. It IS hilarious I still scare like half the people working under me... but come ON! You are elite government officials! Do BETTER! (Geez. At least my PARENTS couldn't be prouder.)

But... (and God damn it, why is there ALWAYS a "but"?) here's the thing. It? Took me a WHILE to get where I am now. Long enough, in fact, for our... Problem, to arrive. A Problem which is GOING to cast his Majesty's kingdom into chaos and turmoil, in fighting and divides. Religious upheaval. A PROBLEM, which? In the name of luuuuuv~?

Is going to get NEIGHBORING COUNTRIES involved.

And WHO do you think is going to have to deal with that? WHO will have to prevent all out WAR? Religious schisms? Ward off assassins in the night? Certainly not Mr. "But Daddy, I love her!". Oh no, HE gets to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his father's suffering! Make more trouble! (Fucker.)

But, hey! Maybe I should throw in with his SECOND son, right? The supporting character? He seems vastly more reasonable and emotionally more balanced doesn't he? Well educated, cautious, why, thoughtful even! Ha ha... yeah... he DOES seem that way, doesn't he?

SEEMS.

He Is Not. Little fucker is a SPECIAL flavor of batshit. Completely "wake to find him standing over you, in your LOCKED BEDROOM, asking if you want to see his new favorite knife" nutty puffs. Not sure which side of the family it comes from, to be honest. Disturbingly good at getting past my warding.

Or at least he WAS, until I got the King involved. Ha! Royal wards! You can't touch me! I sleep like a BABY now! The only people who can enter my rooms now? Are literally JUST me and the KING HIMSELF! How safe is that~‽

But for real... poor his Majesty, you know? It's not like he didn't TRY to be a good father. Take time he couldn't afford out of each day, to spend time with his sons. Insist on eating meals together so he could ask them about their interests, how each day had gone. Involved them where he safely could.

He's a somber man. A dignified one. But let NO ONE say, he is not a LOVING one.

And HOW do his children fucking reward him? Middle school love dramatics and MURDER ATTEMPTS IN THE NIGHT! Because, YES, I have found the disturbing murder board that the second prince has in his "secret" room. Right along his equally disturbing stalker board of ME.

I, obviously, told the King.

He did not look pleased.

Don't know if my new reality has, like, intensive therapy programs or something? But I hope for ALL our sakes, that the second Prince is at the winter palace getting HELP, instead of just? You know... plotting.

His Highness has a nasty tendency to plot, after all. But hey, his Majesty says not to worry about it? I choose to believe him. Concern myself with more immediate threats. Enjoy, no longer turning around to find some baby faced little creep with a hunter's stare, just... watching me. As I try to work. As I try to eat. Around corners, still as a statue, yet somehow a THREAT, in lonely and too empty corridors.

God fucking DAMN, his little "crush" was creepy!

If it weren't for his Majesty? I would have run and run FAR. But... but I? And you CAN NOT repeat this, okay? It's WILDLY inappropriate! A-And I SWEAR I'm never going to.. to ACT on it! I would NEVER. So...so PROMISE, okay?

....cause.... I may... MAY! Possibly! Just a LITTLE bit! Sorta, kinda, just a BIT? Have a TEENY? Little crush... on... his Majesty? Maybe???

YOU CAN'T TELL!

It's SO fucking inappropriate. Oh my GOD. I hate this so much!? Cause he's my BOSS! And old enough to be my DAD! I SHOULDN'T be so attracted to him, right?! Plus he's the KING! There's definitely a power imbalance there! How would that even WORK?! We would have no future! I don't know the first THING about how to BE royalty. And no one would accept me!

Not that I think I even have a CHANCE! Fuck no! I'm not THAT arrogant.

But, like? A girl can day dream. Fantasize, you know?

Which is why? Having his SON? Be a creepo stalker at me? Kinda the WORST. I've literally JUST discovered I'm into older men! Thanks! BEGONE, zygote! Also, your vibes are RANCID! No thanks! I hated that and am SO glad it's gone. Now? All I have to worry about? Is Protagonist-chan and the political SHIT SHOW she drags after her like trail of destruction.

Why is she involving foreign royalty? PLEASE stop involving foreign royalty! Dukes! Religious leaders! MILITARY LEADERS. Stop "Helen of Troy"-ing your ass through our nice, PEACEFUL, kingdom!!! What the ACTUAL FUCK!? This is NOT A THEME PARK.

I watch, vaguely horrified, as his Majesty finishes reading three (yes, count um! Fucking THREE!) different royal missives demanding three different women of legend, from three DIFFERENT legends, who coincidentally enough? Happen to ALL BE THE SAME PERSON. Fucking Protagonist-chan.

They were from long standing ALLIES.

We could not AFFORD to lose those.

And the FOURTH message? Oh, THAT? That, was from his SON! Mr. "But Daddy! I Love her!" HIMSELF! He wants permission to marry the random woman of unknown province he found in the woods! Could be a foreign spy! Could be a mad woman. Who CARES right? They're SO in love~

Enough to START A WAR OVER IT.

I skip the tasting cups and instead? Bring his Majesty a bottle of the strongest star wine I can find. The sort that could damn near eat through rocks and vaporizes in air if you pour it out. Pain killers too, for what HAS to be a killer headache. Then I hesitate. You know what? Fuck it. I grab a cart. Make a care package.

Paper, ink, the STRONG tea, that special occasions tea (in case he needs a reason to remember his will to live), some snacks, a few shawls in case he decides to work late...

It's worth it, to see the way his stressed face relaxs when I return. Eyes softening, corner of his mouth curling up in that tiny, secret, little smile. We can get through this. We WILL get through this. I may not be able to stand by his side, but? I can support him. Help.

So long as HE sits in this office, burning himself down to keep this nation warm, so too, will I.

Tea or booze, your Majesty?

"A blend, I think. Unfortunately, I fear it is going to be a long night for us both." He replies. His voice smooth and low, effortlessly filling the room. A lifetime of public speaking, ingrained so very deep. "You should pour yourself a cup as well, my dear. Sleep will be a long time coming, we will need both the calm and the clarity."

I rolled my borrowed tea cart to the side and got to work. Strong tea and stronger star wine. Certainly a... flavor. Fairly certain such a thing should be illegal. Pretty sure our healers are going to be appalled. But, oh well. Needs, must. One for me, one for him.

He held out a hand. It was a sweeping gesture of his arm, a gentle turn of his wrist. I could never get used to his casual... elegance. The beauty of him. Like a living art work. A dancer. As though he were an actor, striking a pose, about to consider the soul of the simple tea cup. I handed it over, gently and with as much elegance as I could.

It still felt clumsy in comparison.

Yet he still smiled, just slightly. In that way I had learned to spot. Tension dripping away from his shoulders like thawing ice. Running in little rivers like melt waters, as he sat back in his chair, half turning it to face me. A brief moment to relax. Before work begins again.

"Ah... completely vile. Thank you, dear. It's disgusting." He said dryly, catching me off gaurd, and making me damn near snort into my cup. "If it did not work so well? I would never consume this swill again. What a perfect waste of tea and wine. We should invite Yevault."

I laugh. A snirking, snorting, choked little thing into my cup. God, but I've been TRYING to laugh more elegantly. Hell, I've even practiced. But when he catches me off gaurd? I swear to God, I cackle and pop. Like some sort of deranged witch pig. Ow, my sinuses.

"Oh but that's right, Yevault is a healer, on the occasions he takes time from being an unbearable snob. He might actually make us rest, dear. Then where would we be?" His Majesty muses, taking another sip before grimacing at the taste.

I go to respond. Probably some quip about "preferably in bed" or "asleep". Only... only to find my tounge sluggish. My exhaustion mounting, not slipping away. The world has begun to sway. Just a little at first, then notable. My mouth... fuzzy? Prickly. W...what?

His Majesty has begun to frown. Delicately setting down his cup... cup? Something about... a cup... I have taken too long to respond. He rises. Strides in a few, urgent, steps over to where I lean. Against the edge of my assistants desk. Swaying~ swaying~ w-why is the ground... my tounge feels to big. Think? I've begone to drool?

Warm, big hands cup my face. Was slipping forward, to the side. Gonna fall? Not anymore. Up. Hi! Is the king. Hi King. I... I don't feel so good...

His eyes have gone focused and cold. Pretty. Crown begins to glow. Leaves. Gold and gold, a halo of light. From within and beyond him. Power of the throne. Oh... oh I was here before, wasn't I? My bones remember. Like the roots to his great tree, power seeping deeper and deeper into my body, finding imperfections to consume. So... so much LIGHT.

I can not look away.

"Poison, was it? How terribly banal. Do they think me so simple to kill?" There is scorn in his voice. Utter distain. But deep beneath, like the hidden embers of a forest fire, there is rage. "How dare they drag you into this. Bad enough they throw a FIT over some trouble making tart, now they get the innocent involved? What if I had not been paying attention? Or you had taken that tea where I could not see it? Unacceptable."

Like spreading branches, like antlers, the light spread. The hands on my face gentle even as his Majesty's face might as well have been carved from stone. I tried to protest, swallowing thinking past the still rolling nausea. It was my fault! The tasting cups exsist for a REASON. They're supposed to test for things like this. I got too comfortable.

"No." The word slammed down as about an absolute as any sentence CAN. A declaration from on high. The commandment of a king. "It takes far more then simple poisons or common blades to kill me. The power that flows through the Throne insures it. You do not have that luxury. You could have DIED."

"....might still yet."

The last bit, almost a confession, pressed to my brow as he leaned down to press his lips to my forhead. His grip tighter, as though to stop his hands from shaking. My joints were starting to hurt, like I had a nasty cold, and I was already starting to feel feverish. I was starting to drip sweat. Shit.

I tried to stay calm. But... but I was scared. What do I do? Your Majesty! What do I DO?!

"We are going back to my quarters. Work can be brought to me. You need to lay down." He decided after a long moment of deliberation. Something had shifted in his eyes. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Clung to the only trustworthy source of comfort I knew, in the chaos of this moment. "I'm going to take care of you. I have you, dear. Just trust me, darling. I will fix this. I swear it. You don't have to worry about a thing. Just put all of your trust in me, all right?

"Just come with me, dear. Everything will be all right."

"You can trust me."

[seat-safety-switch]

You can complain about most municipal services. Everyone knows I do, from my tragically short run as the newspaper's op-ed editor, to my aborted runs for mayor, governor, and chancellor of the modern art museum. That's not to mention when I visit the local bars to eat free peanuts and watch hockey, bitching loudly about local politics the entire time without buying anything. You can't be down on the firefighters, though.

As someone who has a lot of direct and indirect experience dealing with flames, I know that I can rely on the firefighters even when my own honed skills and equipment fail me. For instance, their trucks often are able to summon a vast quantity of water, much more than my squirt bottle full of rainfall can muster. They're always there when I screw up.

Recently, though, the primitive greed-heads in government have decided not to give them a raise, because they want to "keep taxes low." Here's a free bar rant for you: taxes are imaginary. Money is made up. We should be giving much more of it to the people who run into burning buildings. People like Bob Peplinski, the brave soldier of hot-gases removal who risked his life to deal with that cracked brake line I knew was routed a little bit too close to that hot exhaust last Tuesday on my way to work. He saved most of the car! Didn't even ask for a tip, which is more than I can say for the pizza boy who ran over the neighbour's mailbox.

Bob should be given as much money as he needs. He should have a big-assed pension, so that he has ample retirement time to sit on the beach and miss the adrenaline rush of putting out a tire fire that I probably also started. It's time to do the right thing, and raise taxes on the selfish megacorporations like General Motors, who can't even make a car that goes sixty-five years of deferred maintenance without bursting into flames just because I ran it out of oil and somehow shot a valve all the way through the exhaust piping, out the hole in the muffler, and into the fuel tank.

I'm doing my own part keeping these folks on their toes. They'd probably get bored without me, and start setting fire to houses or something instead. It takes a village, people.

[lillaydee]

Uncoupled - September

Roommate! Joel Miller / Reader

Two people leaving their marriages ended up going through the mandatory one year separation together before filing for divorce.

Nothing could possibly happen in a year, right?

WARNINGS: Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Protective Joel (The Last of Us), No age gap, Roommate Joel, Teacher Joel, Handyman Joel, Insecure Joel, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning.

SERIES MASTER LIST

August

---

You fluffed the cushions on the couch for the 13th time that morning, Ellie studying your actions from the small stool she was made to sit on as you flitted around the place tidying again and again for the God-knows-how-many-th time in the past hour. She was convinced you had gone crazy. All that was going to happen was someone was going to come over to look at your old room to rent. And yet, you were acting as if someone was coming in to judge the cleanliness of the house and throw you in jail if they so much as found a speck of dust.

She made the mistake of snacking on a cracker while watching tv, waiting for 10 am to come. And now that you’d finished vacuuming the couch again, you were taking your nervousness on the poor cushions.

“Beans, it’s okay. They’re not gonna say no just because the cushions are wonky.”

“You don’t know that!”

Tess told you a prospective renter was coming to see the room at 10 am. Set an amount for rent and utilities. Just be there at 10. No more, no less. That was it. That was all she said.

God, what if it’s some lady who hated kids? Or someone who didn’t like Ellie? Or worse, someone Ellie didn’t like? You were more than willing to accommodate, as long as they were nice to Ellie. You needed the extra income. It would put your mind at ease. The rent money and whatever you saved from shared utilities could definitely help contribute to Ellie’s college fund, and maybe you could have a chance at building your savings up again.

You were shocked at how quickly savings can deplete when someone died. The taxes, the funeral, the fees, the whatchamacallits that you had never known existed came to you, all requiring the swiping of a card or the signing of a cheque.

So when Tess asked you if you would consider renting the spare bedroom out, your only thought was Ellie. Would she be alright with some stranger living across the corridor from her? She had barely adjusted to being without her parents, and now a stranger might be moving in? Was that even a good idea?

Shockingly, when you asked her what her thoughts were, she just said, well, let’s meet some people. We’ll see, okay?

God, was she really five? How’d she get so matured all of a sudden? Two days before her parents left she was asking you why one shouldn’t eat boogers. And now she’s all wise? What was happening?

You, on the other hand, was a bit apprehensive with how Tess went about all this. You didn’t even put out advertisements or anything. Once you were on board she just skipped off, taking her phone out to call someone, and then telling you about the appointment.

It was all so strange. No numbers you could call or text, no description of the potential renter, just – be there at 10.

You heard a truck drive up and stopped next to your car. You didn’t even dare to look. You were so nervous, God knows why. You asked Ellie to stand up and hid the colorful stool you had made her sit quietly on in the coat closet. You brushed whatever imaginary crumbs she may or may not have on her person and told her one more time she could change her mind about this if she wanted to. She rolled her eyes at you and told you to open the door already.

You scrunched your face at her, smoothened your dress and opened the door before the person could even knock.

It’s not a woman. It’s a man.

And not just any man.

“Joel.”

“Hey, I thought that car looked familiar.”

“What are you doing here?”

He looked a bit confused. “Maria sent me, said you had a room to rent out?”

“I do, but…”

He looked a bit thrown by your hesitation. His face fell. “Did you not want to rent the room out?”

“No, it’s not that… it’s just… well, come in. I’ll show you,” you told him.

He came inside, toed his shoes off in the doorway and carefully slid it under the shoe rack you had there. He closed the front door behind him, frowning a little at the loud squeak it was making. Ellie came over and offered him a fist, which he took, a wide smile on his face. Hey kiddo. Hey old man.

He followed her lead into the corridor leading to the rooms. You shook your head a little, finally opening your old room for him to see, the door squeaking as you did so.

It was a girl’s room. Pink wall to wall carpeting, pink wallpaper, the white dresser complete with the movie star mirror and lightbulbs, a white closet, and of course, that white, very princessy queen sized bed Annie had bought for you. You didn’t even know if he’d fit on that bed. If he did, his feet would definitely get caught up in the metal swirls that was the foot of the bed.

He just stood there, looking around, and then going on to open the closet, the drawers, checking the bulbs on the mirrors all worked, shook the bed for sturdiness and sat on it, bouncing a bit to test the mattress. Then he looked out the windows, looking at the view of the school field across the road, opening and closing the blinds, switching the lights on and off, checking the HVAC vents, and then stood in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips looking around the room once more.

He looked at you, “Bathroom?”

“It’s next door,” Ellie answered for you when you were too stunned at his nonchalance over the pinkness of the room.

He gestured to the direction, silently asking you if he could take a look? Ellie pulled his hand to show him when you, yet again, did not respond. You heard her tell him he would have that bathroom to himself. He asked her where her room was, and she told him, telling him she will use the ensuite in your room. That one had a tub, she told him. You heard her open her bedroom door and showing him her room, much too small for anything but a single bed, and him mumbling some questions to her before the two came back into the pink room where you stood, still unmoving since you entered.

“You sure you don’t want this room?” he asked Ellie.

“Eww, no, it’s pink.”

He laughed, and you finally found your voice.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think Tess would send a man to look at the room. The previous owner used it as her sewing room or hobby room or something, and we haven’t changed anything since we moved in. My late sister-in-law sort of went crazy with the princess theme when she furnished it for me, since Ellie didn’t like the room at all.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, unless - would you prefer to rent to a woman?” He suddenly looked nervous.

“No, I don’t mind, if you don’t. I just… it’s so pink, even I had a hard time living here before. You can change it if you want, I plan to redo the whole house anyway, someday. The house is so old, hadn’t been touched, basically since it was built. So, it’s a bit dated.”

“I can see that. Can I see the rest of the house?”

You took him to the kitchen, the laundry room, the backyard, and finally, sat him down in the living room, ready for him to say no.

“What’s the rent like?”

You told him. The utilities would be split right down the middle, telling him how much they were the previous month. He nodded, looking around the house once more, as if contemplating.

“We can discuss the rent and the split on the utilities further, if you prefer, I’m sure we could agree on a number,” you hurriedly said.

His eyes found you again. “No, that sounds reasonable. I’m okay with that number if you are. What about groceries?”

Somehow, over the next 30 minutes the two of you managed to come up with an arrangement you both were comfortable with. He looked at Ellie, who had spent the time you and him discussing the finances on her belly, watching some cartoon on TV.

“You okay with me moving in, kiddo?” he asked her, nudging her little legs with his socked toe.

She didn’t even look at him. Just shrugged and told him if he’s okay staying in the pink room, she’s okay with him living across the corridor from her.

He smiled, thanking her, before looking at you.

“When can I move in?”

**********

He moved in the very next morning, everything you saw him leave his marital home with in the bed of his truck. Ellie was making herself helpful, holding a corner of whatever he was carrying all the way from the front door to his pink room, before waiting for him to get another and doing the exact same thing again. She was mesmerized by his guitar case, asking him if he could play for her one day. He immediately opened it, and she audibly marvelled at the guitar, running her tiny fingers on the strings.

“Ells sweetie, be careful with that. It looks expensive, don’t touch things that are not yours okay?”

She immediately pulled her hand away, apologizing to him.

“No, it’s okay,” he told you. “Kids are curious, that’s a good thing.”

God, you forgot he’s a teacher. He’s used to this.

He played a song for her. He didn’t sing, just plucked at the strings – a simple tune you had heard in elevators and while waiting for calls to be connected to a customer service rep. Ellie was smiling the whole time, her eyes watching as his fingers deftly plucked at the strings, completely mesmerized by what she was seeing and hearing.

She thanked him when he was done, leaving him to unpack. You closed the door behind her, thanking him for entertaining her like that. He nodded, giving you a smile as he unzipped his suitcase.

You drew a big, deep breath. Okay. That’s done. Back to normal services. What was it you were planning to do? Right. The lawn. You put on your shoes and went out back where the lawnmower was instead of the garage. The garage door was stuck and wouldn’t open, and Eddie had been planning to get someone to fix it before winter came. One more thing on the list.

You had put the outdoor chores behind you this past month, focusing on getting Ellie settled and the estate handled. Now that the room was rented out and Joel had moved in, you could tackle the outdoors.

Okay, you can do this. How hard could it be? Sure, you’ve never mowed a lawn before, but you just push right? The house you shared with Max didn’t have a lawn. The previous owner had paved over the entire backyard to avoid just such labour, and you were glad for it. But now, you have this bungalow with grass wrapped around three sides of the house, so you guessed mowing the lawn would have to be a regular thing now. The lawn had been neglected for a month, so you needed to get started at some point.

You inserted the key, pressed the start button on the mower, and you were amazed that it immediately roared to life. See? Easy. You had no idea why people complain about mowing the freaking lawn. You chose to have one, you had to mow it. Part of the deal. Your neighbours used to pay people to do this or wait for their husbands to come home. Pfft… this was easy. You had no idea what the big deal was. You took a deep breath and began pushing. After 30 minutes or so, you had pushed the darned thing around the entire backyard when the thing made the most pathetic sound and sputtered before dying on you. You peeked at the thingy on the mower, seeing the bag the cut grass was supposed to pool in and discovered it was empty. You looked around the lawn and realized that none of the grass was actually cut.

You had been pushing that heavy thing for half an hour and nothing was cut.

Oh come on!!!

Why’d you have to buy a house with so much lawn Ed? And what’s with the useless lawn mower he bought? It was supposed to be brand new, and it wasn’t cutting anything. He was so proud of that purchase too, boring you and Annie for hours about what it could do, excited to have a lawn after living in a small apartment since he got married. Sheesh. You pushed the start button again and again to no avail. You finally just dropped yourself on the grass and gave up entirely. Oh well. Some long grass never killed anyone. Right? You laid on your back, breathing heavily from your lame attempt at mowing the lawn. Who knew pushing a lawnmower was such a workout? Damn. The sun was not helping either, mocking your lame attempts, beating down your neck, and now your face as you laid there, your eyes closed in frustration.

A shadow covered your face all of a sudden. You squinted to see what it was, only to see Joel standing over you, a cold glass of water in his hand. Here, drink this, he told you.

You sat up, drinking the water thirstily as he sat down on the grass with you. He had changed into some ratty pair of jeans and an old looking t-shirt, asking you what you thought you were doing.

“Mowing the lawn.”

He looked around, nodded with an impressed expression on his face, telling you good job. You rolled your eyes and told him that the lawn mower was broken. Maybe you did sound a little defensive, but that was not the point.

“It’s brand new. Still shiny. What do you mean it’s broken?”

“It won’t cut anything! Useless piece of junk.”

He stood up and lifted the small hood on the mower. No gas. He looked around and saw the little metal cabinet Eddie had placed next to what was supposed to be the patio one day and looked inside. He came back with some gasoline and refilled the tank. He pushed the start button and the thing sputtered. No dice.

You gestured at it frustratedly with an ‘I told you so’ look on your face. He shook his head, told you the gasoline needed time to get to the engine. He pressed the button two more times and the mower roared to life. You rolled your eyes a bit and told him it won’t cut the grass. “There’s something wrong with it, I’m telling you! Trust me!”

He studied the machinery for a bit before taking the handle, pressing what looked like brake levers in front of it and pushed.

Et voila. The grass under it magically got shorter, the smell of cut grass filling your senses.

Oh.

You went over and tried to get the mower back from him. He cut the engine and blocked the handle of the mower from your hands with his body.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m gonna mow the lawn.”

“No you’re not. I’ll do it. Go back inside. It’s hot.” He pulled earphones out of his pocket and plugged them into his phone, selecting a playlist and starting the mower again, shooing you inside before going on to mow your lawn.

You wanted to argue, but your shoulders and back were killing you from pushing that heavy thing around on that waste of gasoline trip around the backyard earlier. So you let him mow your lawn. Well, his too, you guessed, now that he’s living here, a little annoyed at how easy he was making the whole thing look.  

You went in and got him some water in a jug and filled it with ice. It really was hot today, and that glass of water he gave you was a lifesaver. You placed the jug and a clean glass on the table outside and went back in to start lunch. You figured something nice, quick but simple and filling to welcome him to the house. Just as you finished seasoning the Pad Kra Pao, the engine to the mower cut off. You heard him push the mower back into the shade and pour himself a glass of water.

“Oh wow, it smells like Thai food in here,” he said, placing the almost empty jug on the kitchen counter, before closing the squeaky and wonky kitchen door, having to lift it up a bit to close it properly.

“Yeah, lunch is almost ready. Hope you’re hungry. I’m making…”

Oh shit.

You’ve just turned towards him. He’s all red, sweaty and glowing from sweat, the sun was beating the living crap out of him outside. You quickly took the jug and refilled it, asking him to drink more, apologizing profusely for making him mow the lawn on his first day living there. He hadn’t even spent the night, and now he’s at risk for heatstroke because you couldn’t figure out how to work the mower.

“Hey, don’t worry, I just burn easily. Relax. I drank plenty.”

“You don’t have to do the chores, you know, I’m pretty sure we didn’t discuss that.”

“Nonsense. Happy to do it. Besides, I can argue you don’t have to cook for me too, you know. Pretty sure ‘cooking for your tenant’ would not be in the contract either.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He told you he was going to shower and change and he would be right back to help you with the rest of lunch. He passed by Ellie, who was walking into the kitchen, giving her a high five, laughing a little as she complained about his sweaty hand.

You tried to protest when he helped set the table after his shower, he shushed you and went about opening and closing the cabinetry looking for the right ones for the things he was looking for.

He asked you how to make the dish, saying that he would love to try making it himself one day. You told him it was usually a spicy dish, but… you cocked your head towards Ellie who was diligently sifting Thai basil out of her portion before eating. He nodded in understanding.

He asked Ellie if she was excited for school next week. She shook her head, looking a bit sad. You told him later that she was just upset – she used to be excited, but after the accident, knowing that her parents won’t be sending her to school… His face fell, rubbing his face, saying that he couldn’t even imagine. He told you that he would just be in the next building from the preschool, so you could put him in as an emergency contact if the school couldn’t reach you for any reason.

Ellie fell asleep with her head on Joel’s lap that night, watching some stuff on TV as he read a book he had brought out. He refused your offer to take her from him as he carried her into her room, telling you he really, really didn’t mind. You told him that the doors to the rooms did not lock, but not to worry, you made sure Ellie would knock if she needed to go into his room, which she had expressly promised not to, unless there was an emergency. He could, of course, install a lock on his door if he wanted to. You would rather Ellie didn’t lock her door, in case you needed to come to her rescue at night, and you never lock your door as she used your bathroom. You bid him goodnight, going into your room and closing the door.

Joel sat in the living room for a while, reading his book for a couple more chapters before giving in to his tired body. As he laid his head on the left side of the princess bed, his feet on the right side, he couldn’t help feel light-hearted about today. For the first time since he left his marital home, he didn’t feel awkward or intrusive. He had thought it would be weird, living with a woman he hardly knew and her niece, and not just any woman – the woman who was the wife of the man his wife cheated on him with – but he hadn’t felt like that at all. The most awkward he felt was when he insisted to mow the lawn, and later, coming in to lunch being made for him, and that you fought him when he tried to do the dishes, and he argued that you had cooked, so he should clean. And even that, it was more that he wasn’t used to someone doing things around the house for him. He was the one doing everything back when he was still living with Jen.  

And Ellie. He’d met her three times. But he liked her. Felt very protective of her. It just felt natural, having her fall asleep with her head on his lap.

As he drifted to sleep, a thought entered his mind.

He could get used to this, princess bed, pink room, Hollywood dresser and all.

**********

You woke up early the next day, getting ready to go to the bakery, your first day fully back since that day you received the call. You packed some of Ellie’s clothes and books and iPad, and lifted her still sleeping body off her bed, quietly locking the front door behind you and buckling her in the back of your car.

It was 5.30 am when you arrived at the bakery. You unlocked the back entrance, placed Ellie on the futon in your office and got to work. Your routine was simple. Get the dough that was left to proof overnight from the fridge and make the pastries and breads and buns your customer liked before opening the door at 7.30 sharp. You worked quietly, efficiently, your movements a routine since you opened the bakery five years ago. You remembered Max being so excited for you back then. He used to love your freshly baked pastries, getting to the bakery early with you to keep you company. Until he decided you were just trying to make him fat and came home so late he didn’t have the energy to come keep you company anymore.

Tess and Frank arrived about ten minutes after you did, each going to their own stations preparing for the day with you. Tess asked you how the first day living with Joel was, and you told her, surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward at all.

You were really shocked at how comfortable you were with him. By the time you shut your bedroom door you were a bit thrown at the thought that it was his first night there. He hadn’t even been there 24 hours, and yet, having him in the house just felt easy. The only time you felt awkward with him was when he insisted on helping around the house. The lawn, the setting of the table, the dishes, it just felt… odd. But you knew why. You were not used to it all. You were solely left to do those things on your own when you were living with Max. Having a man who helped without being asked, and not having to engage in a screaming match for asking was alien to you.

And what was more shocking? How easily he took to Ellie, and the little girl to him. When you think how much of a stranger Max was to her, it was crazy how quickly these two made friends. And his offer to be her emergency contact… you just trusted him. You didn’t know why.

You remembered thinking as you drifted to sleep – you could get used to having him around.

You arrived home at 6, Tess and Frank insisted on you leaving before closing. Ellie had been at the bakery since 5.30 that morning. She must be exhausted. It’s okay, they told you. They understood. Go.

When you drove up to your house you thought your eyes were deceiving you.

The garage door was open. It was freaking open.

You walked into the living room, shutting the door behind you once Ellie had come in, realizing that the door was no longer squeaking.

Oh… and something smelled amazing.

Joel was in the backyard, your kitchen door off its hinges, propped on an old table outside. He was measuring something on the door, looking up as you walked out.

“Hello, roomie!”

“What are you doing?”

“Just fixing the door. It was driving me crazy. It was stuck. Shouldn’t anymore, now,” he said, brushing the whatever it was called with his hand.

“I was gonna do that.”

Okay, you weren’t, but you felt bad he was doing this. This shouldn’t be his problem.

“Really? Oh, well, now you don’t have to. Can you hand me the Phillips-head?” he held out his hand to you, waiting for you to get the Phillip guy he asked for.

You looked at the ten or so items he had laid out on the small table, calculating the probability that the one you might pick might be this Phillip. Now… which one looked like a Phillip?

“You don’t know, do you?”

“I do, I’m just tired,” you said defensively, picking up something that looked like a Phillip.

“That’s a chisel. This,” he picked up a screwdriver with the + point, his voice straining as he stretched his body to get it, “Is a Phillips-head.”

“I meant to pick that one,” said, rather embarrassed that you got it so wrong.

“Sure you were.” He smiled and went back to doing his thing. Once he installed the door back to it’s rightful place, he called you and Ellie for dinner, demonstrating the door was no longer stuck or squeaky.

The man made tacos for dinner. Okay, he bought the shells, but the filling he made was pretty delicious. He and Ellie had a blast having a contest on who could make the most mess as they ate. And Ellie won by a mile. You took out the cheesecake slices you brought home for dessert, him immediately warning you not to bring home dessert every day.

“I’m gonna have to start working out again if you keep this up. And I HATE working out,” he complained, shovelling the cheesy goodness into his mouth.

As you stood in the garage closing and opening the door with ease after Ellie went to bed, he came out to join you.

“Joel, thank you so much for everything you did today, you really didn’t have to. I was gonna call someone.”

“Well, I had nothing to do until Thursday, and they were easy fixes. Don’t worry about it. And now, you don’t have to pay someone to do it for you.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you or anything.”

“You’re not, I’m happy to do it. Relax. What else am I gonna do? I might strip the pink wallpaper off my walls, if you don’t mind me taking you up on your offer. While I have the time to do it.”

“Of course, it’s your room. Do what you want,” you told him, thanking him again for dinner and everything he had done around the house that day. “Good night Joel.”

“Night Lily.”

**********

It’s Ellie’s first day of school. You told Tess and Frank you were going to be late, and they waved you off, telling you they understood. She was looking a bit down, touching her parents clothes in her closet before walking out to have her breakfast.

Joel came out, dressed in a dress shirt, a tie and a pair of slacks, looking decidedly different than the jeans and t-shirt you were used to see him in.

Good different. His hair combed neatly, his beard and moustache trimmed, and was he wearing cologne?

Damn, Miller. This man cleaned up well.

You told him that, even Ellie was telling him he looked good. He in turn told her she looked great too, giving her a side hug before getting himself a mug for his morning coffee. He took a piece of toast and leaned on the kitchen counter next to you as you finished making Ellie’s lunch and snacks for the day.

“You look great too, by the way,” he said. You had put on a nicer dress that day, and a bit of make-up – you wanted to make a great first impression for Ellie’s teachers. You scoffed a laugh – anything was better than the flour you normally wore as involuntary powder, huh?

He didn’t answer, a smile gracing his lips as he took another sip of coffee, his eyes still on you.

He was a bit stunned when you handed him his lunch for the day. He took it, thanking you, touched at the gesture. God, when was the last time someone other than his mother made him lunch to take to school?

The three of you walked to school, going in through the back gate that was literally a few yards away from your driveway. Ellie holding to your hand tight, Joel holding her backpack and lunch in his hands.

“Good morning Mr Miller,” his students chorused every once in a while. He nodded with a smile, showing Ellie the building where his classes were. You couldn’t help but notice the female students openly swooning at him as he walked by. As you got to the car park, some female teachers who were talking to each other stopped as soon as they saw him. You noticed a couple of them checking his ring finger before coming over, eyeing you and Ellie with… something… asking him who you were.

He introduced you as Lily and Ellie. That was it. No explanation of who you were, before placing his hand on the small of your back and leading you away, telling them you were late for Ellie’s first day of school. You could see them gather and whisper as soon as his back was turned. Wow.

When you got to the preschool, Bill and Andy were there, Andy excitedly cooing at Ellie over how great she looked, checking out her bag and lunch box, while Bill quietly shook Joel’s hand, gave you a quick kiss and stood there silently, watching Ellie answer Andy’s questions. She gave him an excited fist bump as Andy got up to hug you and Joel, asking her if she’s got everything for school, asking her again if she’s sure, and asking her one more time, before producing a keychain with her name engraved on it, clipping it on her bag. She hugged him, and you could see Bill falter, holding the little girl tight.

Her teacher, Mrs Adler came to your group. She squatted to Ellie’s level, introducing herself to her. Which ones were your mom and dad, she asked. And you felt your head go cold. You had forgotten to tell the school about Eddie and Annie’s passing. Shit. Not good. So not good.

To your surprise, Ellie took your hand and Joel’s.

Mrs Adler stood up and shook your hand, before turning to Joel, shocked that he was the one Ellie referred to as her dad. She knew him, of course. What female teacher in that entire academic complex didn’t. She managed to keep her face straight, telling you and Joel that she would be in safe hands, and that you were required to go online and fill out a form to update her emergency contacts and the likes. You were still too stunned at Ellie’s actions, so Andy immediately did it for you, putting you as the first emergency contact, Joel as the second. She then listed all the four of them as the people who were allowed to sign Ellie out other than you and Joel.

Mrs Adler took Ellie to the classroom and showed her the table and cubby she was assigned to. You asked to speak to her outside and told her the whole story with her parents. Mrs Adler looked a bit teary, but looked at the four of you and told you Ellie was a lucky girl that so many people stepped up for her. She’ll be fine. You can come pick her up at three.

Ellie came running out and hugging all four of you, holding you and Joel tight as she did. You promised her you would see her at three, and that Joel was right in the next building, okay? She nodded, trying hard not to cry. The four of you left with heavy hearts, Andy rubbing your back to calm you down, as you were so close to tears.

Joel came up to you and rubbed your arm up and down, you okay? He looked sad himself, for whatever reason. You nodded, and he pulled you in for a one-armed hug, telling you she’ll be okay. We’ll see her later today. You let him hold you for a while, before pulling back, thanking him for being there for Ellie. Of course, he replied, easily. Andy told you she would drive you back to get your car, Bill hanging back to talk to Joel for a bit, before patting him on the shoulder.

Your day at the bakery was filled with thoughts of Ellie. Was she doing okay? Did she make new friends? Did she eat?

And every once in a while, the feeling you felt as Joel hugged you came flashing back.

Stop it. Ellie. Focus on Ellie.

Joel was thinking of Ellie too, refraining himself from going over every other hour to peek at her classroom. The teachers wouldn’t like that. He just hoped she was doing alright.

She implied he was her dad. And you her mom.

As Joel opened the lunch you packed for him during his break, he thought of the way your hair smelled as he hugged you that morning. Stop it. Ellie. Focus. Ellie.

As he bit into the sandwich you made for him, he couldn’t help but take a deep, satisfied breath.

Yeah… he could get used to this.

---

October Part 1

[bayshoretruckcenter]

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[transit-fag]

What's your 'murica gets its head out of its ass wishlist' for urban planning and other major policy shifts?

Mine is:

Left side driving

Changing to metric already

Universal income, extra for disabled people

Universal healthcare for everyone in any part of the US

Defund the world spanning military, grant statehood or subsidized independence to our colonies. Maybe just like idk patrol our own waters and skies perhaps?

Defund the police, and create community outreach orgs to help all suffering ppl, including jerks who struggle so much they think killing ppl is ever okay.

Establish limits on copyright law being 20 years like patents. (With none of the bullshit loopholes)

Establish that all intellectual property deemed a public good by someone kind is forced into the public domain irrevocably. (Careful I will rant about the patent on heated boxes or life saving meds)

Requiring any company that operates in the US to pay taxes to the US, and hold their executives responsible for damages to anything or one they cause.

Public trains to/from anywhere with more than double digit population. Some other form of public transit that gets its own lane at least for anywhere that is infeasible.

Make safe, secure, private, and well made housing, a right and not a commodity.

Make food a right.

Make clothes a right.

Make good internet a right.

Make electricity a right.

Make privacy a right.

Make education an unlimited right.

All people in the US are eligible for all rights and protections etc. (Citizenship is not a requirement to be treated well)

Ban plastics in anything where natural materials are better.

Subsidize growing actual food people want to eat, not industrial resources.

Ban golf courses anywhere they cannot naturally survive.

Exclude all organizations from exerting powers like the law except for the government.

Anyone making disproportionate use of a public good like water, transportation, etc, gets taxed proportionately. (Semi trucks bad, trains good)

Provide water reclamation resources to areas without renewable clean water, no matter the cost.

Require that people in any position of power be good kind people.

Make rule of law actually mean something, if the law applies to everyone equally than enforce it equally. (Including the government and military)

Make corporations not legally people (they aren't)

No nukes or WMDs

Give NASA 10% the national budget or smth, they deserve it.

Require that companies pay the union dues of their employees.

Encourage unions.

Make the NSA about aquatic biology instead. Say the National Aquatic Association or smth.

No guns in civilization, wilderness or rural only for civilians.

Disband the CIA.

Full audits of the government all the time, no classified or secret bullshit. With great power comes great scrutiny and actual responsibility.

Establish an actual nationwide recycling system to turn trash into compost or useful materials.

Establish restorative justice practices nationwide.

I uh went off a bit sorry, I miss anything?

I agree with most of this except left side driving, that is an evil British scheme.

Also how the fuck do you require people in power to be "good kind people" do you not see how that could be abused, it's completely subjective

[shadowcanine]

the bath school disaster (or, the deadliest massacre you’ve never heard of)

information will be under the cut; as always, this post is strictly for educational and research purposes.

It’s May 18th, 1927 in Bath Charter Township, Michigan. 10 miles from Lansing- the capital. A little over a year has passed since 55 year old Andrew Philip Kehoe lost the election for township clerk, and his opponent winning meant an increase in taxes. Not only did he lose, but he was also notified in June of the previous year that his mortgage would be foreclosed.

Kehoe had a reputation for being difficult- in personal dealings, but also within the school board. He had once shot and killed a neighbors dog for barking, which annoyed Kehoe. When his horse would not cooperate to his expectations, Kehoe beat it to death.

His financial problems seemed to be the breaking point, though. For much of the time in between his defeat and May 18th, Kehoe purchased explosives- over a thousand pounds of them in total- and hid them on his property, as well as under Bath Consolidated School.

Kehoe has a wife; Nellie. She’s terminally ill with what is resembling tuberculosis, but there’s no cure or treatment yet. She’s discharged from the St. Lawrence Hospital in Lansing on May 16th, but nobody has heard from her since.

Kehoe wakes up early on May 18th; he triggers the bombs on his property, blowing his farm to smithereens. He isn’t satisfied with just, though.

It’s important to note that Bath was divided into three “sections.” There was the North Wing, South Wing, and the central part of the school.

The bombs underneath the North Wing were attached to an alarm clock. At 9:45AM, the bombs are detonated. It sets off explosions in the North Wing- the impact rips through everything in it’s path; the roof is collapsed, a fire has broke out, and 36 children and 2 teachers were already dead.

The town immediately tries to initiate a rescue mission; doing what they can to try and save those who may still be alive, but it’s not over.

After the catastrophe in the North Wing, Kehoe drives his truck to the schoolyard. The bed of the truck is filled with metal debris layered on-top of dynamite; makeshift shrapnel. Kehoe shoots at the bed of the truck through his rear-window, and triggers the dynamite.

Kehoe is dead; along with those who were near the truck, including: the school’s superintendent, a child who had escaped the initial North Wing bomb, and 2 other adults.

During the second attempt at a rescue mission, 500 pounds, or 230kg of explosives are found under the South Wing of the school by searchers. These bombs, for whatever reason, did not detonate. If they would have, everybody inside Bath Consolidated School would have died, and the school would have been leveled.

As Kehoe’s property was searched, a sign would be found- wired to the fence on Kehoe’s farm, which read:

“Criminals are made, not born.”

Searchers would then find Nellie- Andrew’s wife- at the top of the hill on the farm. She was dead- badly charred from the explosions on the farm. Her body was placed on top of hay in a wheelbarrow, and left on top of the hill. It’s not clear when exactly Andrew killed her, but it was sometime between May 16th, the day she was discharged from the hospital, and May 18th, the day of the bombings.

In total, 45 people would be killed. 38 students, and 5 adults.

The Bath School Disaster would go on to be the deadliest school massacre in U.S history to date. The school was torn down once in 1928, and a new school was put in it’s place- the Jamez Couzens Agricultural School. JCAS was torn down in 1975, and a memorial park for the original Bath School was put in it’s place. To this day, the park remains there as a reminder.

# Thanks for reading- The Bath School Disaster holds a special place in my heart. It’s without a doubt the most tragic case I’ve heard of, and it seems to have been forgotten by time. Below is the headline of the Lansing Michigan Journal from May 18th, 1927- the day of the bombing.

[ritzperez]

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[joshhamilton11]

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