#alas we must keep moving on and eat more hot chips

[theboxfort]

How have you been doing Boxfort?

I've been. Sucked into object shows. I am so sorry to those who follow me for EW or TMC or otherwise. But these circular boys are in my brain 24/7. They are so shaped. I loaf them.

But other than that I've been doing good! :DD Going to the dentist, coming home and eating hot chip and lie, watching cartoon, attempt to draw for 2 minutes before giving up, etc etc :]

[janeykath318]

The Gardener Next Door

Darcy felt like she’d finally made it: finished her PhD and found a great job that allowed her to upgrade from her tiny apartment to her very own house in the suburbs. It needed a little work, but it had charm and personality and Darcy took several months making it her own. The neighborhood she lives in was mostly elderly people or young newlywed couples and the people were generally very friendly. Sweet Mrs. Messer brought her over baked goods regularly and shared the local gossip while Old Mrs. Richards brought her puppy over for regular visits. Before she’d lived there six months, she knew almost everyone on the block except for her next door neighbor on the left, who didn’t appear to be the sociable type.

Even Mrs. Messer hadn’t been able to find out much information, other than his name was something Grant and he liked to garden and preferred to be left alone.

“He must be one of those grumpy old hermit types,” Mrs. Messer sighed. “Never answered the door when I went to bring him a welcome to the neighborhood pie. I wonder what happened to the poor man to make him so wary of people.”

“I don’t know, but maybe you could try leaving some on his front porch with a friendly note. Once he’s discovered the glory of your chocolate chip cookies, he might just loosen up a little.” Darcy suggested.

This cheered up Mrs. Messer and she scurried off to start baking.

Mysterious Neighbor Dude clearly preferred a motorcycle as his form of transportation, but he always pulled right into the garage, so she was never able to get a glimpse of him without his helmet.

As spring went on, Darcy started spending more time outside in her cozy lounge chair, from which she started noticing her neighbor working outdoors. Even from the distance she could see by the way he moved, he was still in the prime of life and he appeared to be a workout fiend, judging by the size of his shoulders and arms.

He wore a big floppy straw hat that kept the sun off, which was probably a good thing because he was working in his garden almost nonstop on sunny days. It was kind of fascinating watching the progression from bare dirt to tiny plants. So far, their only interaction was a friendly wave when he caught her staring and Darcy was dying for more, but he’d never approached her and she didn’t want to invade his privacy.

But then she came home one day to find a big basket of lettuce and radishes on her front porch.

There was a note with them:

“Sharing some lettuce with you. It makes delicious salads. Have a nice day!”

The note was not signed and Darcy squinted at it for quite awhile like it would suddenly start talking and reveal its author, but alas, no such luck.

The lettuce did make excellent salads and she thought about her hunky neighbor with every bite.

Mrs. Messer came over very excitedly to report that the cookies had been taken and she too had been given a basket of lettuce.

“Looks like you were right, Darcy. The man just needed a little kindness. I wonder if he likes lemon bars…..”

As the weeks went by, the gifts of veggies continued, varying as different things came into season. Peppers, carrots, tomatoes, and green beans all arrived steadily and were either quickly eaten or given to Darcy’s vegetarian co-worker.

Darcy started replying to his notes on the fifth basket and soon they had a funny banter going back and forth, filled with vegetable puns.

“Lettuce be friends?” She wrote on the note left in the empty basket which had previously held plump red tomatoes and would be supplying her with BLTs for a long time.

“Yes, peas!” he’d replied on the next basket, which did contain the mentioned vegetable.

“Why are you so cute and unreachable?” Darcy murmured to herself, stashing the note away with a smile.

She laid out sunbathing in her favorite bathing suit the next day and since there was no fence between their backyards, the hot neighbor dude got a nice view. This time it was Darcy who caught him staring and waved happily, pretty sure he was blushing. Ugh. He was just too adorable. She wanted to March over there and plant one on him, pun slightly intended. He briefly took off his hat to wipe sweat off of his face and she caught a glimpse of dark hair and beard. Dang it, that was a GOOD look!!

The notes and vegetable puns continued, but now they were accompanied by cute sketches of cartoon vegetables representing the various neighbors. Darcy absolutely loved it and it proved her suspicions that the so-called hermit was much more observant than he seemed.

“So you’re an artist as well as a champion gardener? Is there anything you can’t do?” She wrote on the next note.

“Plenty,” he replied back. “I sure can’t bake and I can’t seem to be able to remember how to speak when my pretty neighbor is around.”

Darcy was floored, but thrilled, and wrote and rewrote seven replies before she finally figured out how to word her response.

“Here I was thinking you didn’t want to talk to me. Guess we’re both disasters at communicating.”

The response to this rang Darcy’s doorbell the very next evening and she opened it to see her neighbor, up close and personal, looking all kinds of shy and adorable and holding out a bouquet of gorgeous flowers that she knew came from his yard.

“Aww, how sweet!” She exclaimed, accepting the flowers eagerly. “They’re beautiful. Nice to finally meet you……….”

Her voice trailed off as she recognized the gorgeous and famous face in front of her.

“Steve,” he finished quietly, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry for the secrecy. I’ve been hiding out living the retired life and trying my hand at new hobbies.”

He looked even more nervous now, probably thinking she was going to either throw him out or go yelling to the neighbors.

“Please, come in,” she told him, heart pounding. “I’m Darcy Lewis, astrophysicist and former Avengers wrangler. I did NOT recognize you from across the yard with the dye job. It’s a good look, though. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks,” Steve sighed, relaxing a touch. “I think I remember seeing you yelling at Tony a few times. It was pretty neat, the way you made him cower.”

“I learned early on, Tony needed a firm hand or he would never eat or sleep and bad things happened,” Darcy recalled, with a pang of sadness. “You guys saved the world,” she added. “I think you’ve more than earned your privacy and a peaceful retirement.”

Steve cracked a crooked smile. “That’s very gracious of you. Some days, it’s a pretty big struggle for me to believe that, thinking about everyone we lost. Gardening’s been keeping me sane.”

“And you’re doing a fabulous job with it. I’ve never had such perfect tomatoes,” Darcy told him with a smile.

“I was pretty proud of them,” Steve admitted, then he grew serious again and looked at her very earnestly with those gorgeous blue eyes.

“Darcy, do you still want to…”

“Yes,” Darcy interrupted. “Heck yes. I like you, Steve. I didn’t really know you apart from Captain America before and I’m finding regular Steve to be more irresistible than Mrs. Messer’s lemon bars.”

Steve chuckled and started to turn pink, which was even cuter seen close up.

“Given how amazing those are, that’s high praise,” he remarked, with a twinkle in his eye. “Looks like I’ve got a lot of missed opportunities to make up for.”

They shared another long look and Steve moved into her personal space with intent-to-kiss written all over his face.

Darcy was very much down for that and nodded eagerly, wrapping her arms around him. The pent up feelings resulted in a pretty intense kiss, which left her weak in the knees and practically hanging onto Steve for dear life.

“Well that was worth it,” she whispered, when she’d caught her breath. “I’m so glad you didn’t actually go to the moon. There’s been rumors.”

Steve full on laughed at that, a joyous sight which she’d never witnessed before, but was very glad to finally see. His eyes crinkled, his face lit up and he looked so adorably cute, her heart turned into a puddle of goo.

“Don’t know where they came up with that one,” he remarked, shaking his head in amusement. “But I have no intentions of going to the moon. I’d rather stay here with you.”

“Good, because I need some more of those green beans, ASAP,” Darcy replied mischievously, barely refraining from making an eggplant joke. She didn’t want to be TOO forward.

“How about you come over and I can give you the grand tour?” Steve suggested.

“Yes, peas.” She responded, making him laugh again.

Before long, the neighbors were gossiping again, this time over the shocking sight of “Mr. Grant” making out with Dr. Lewis right in his backyard.

“I knew it!” Old Mrs. Richards chuckled, petting her dog gleefully.

“I’ll volunteer to make their wedding cake!” Exclaimed Mrs. Messer.

[sgstories123]

Shy Mark

Joey looked at Mark and sighed. He is so cute but unfortunately so shy. She has been trying so hard to get him to fuck her and be her boyfriend but alas, she has not been successful.

Joey first met Mark two weeks ago. She had gone to watch a basketball match to support her friend Shawn who was playing in the match. Mark was one of their teammates. She noticed then how tall and muscular Mark was. He had a boyish face and short, cropped hair. When Mark was shooting the ball into the hoop, he had an intense, serious look. When the ball dropped through the hoop, he will break into the most charming smile. Joey was mesmerised by Mark. After the game, she walked towards him and introduced herself to him. Mark just smiled and left without saying anything.

She asked Shawn about Mark and realised that Mark was exceedingly shy with girls. It seemed that he had broken off with his girlfriend for more than six months but was too shy to find another girlfriend.

“Are you sure you are interested in him?” Shawn had asked her. “He is cute but very shy. His girlfriend told me that he doesn’t initiate anything. So he is extremely boring.” Shawn looked at Joey and smiled knowingly. “Knowing your appetite for sex, you are going to be disappointed.”

Joey kicked Shawn on his shin, in jest. It was true though that Joey had a reputation of always changing her boyfriends but she did not think she was slutty. She preferred to think that she was simply trying to find a better one. It was also true that she had been telling many people of her sexual exploits. Perhaps that has given people the impression that she was insatiable when it comes to sex. But she convinced herself that she was simply not being hypocritical. Many of her friends love sex too but pretend not to so as to appear pure and innocent.

“You know, it is easier to be my girlfriend than Mark’s girlfriend.” Shawn continued. “I will be much better than him. How about it?”

“Fuck off! I know you so well that it will feel weird to be your girlfriend.” Joey countered.

“But seriously, if you get Mark to be your boyfriend, you may be quite lucky. He has one of the largest cock I have seen.” Shawn seemed suddenly serious.

Seeing Joey’s disbelieving look, Shawn continued, “Really. I am not joking. We played basketball together so I have seen him in the shower.”

“Then why did the girlfriend leave him if he is so good.” Joey asked.

“Ha ha! Not everything is about a big dick, Joey. If so, my girlfriend would have left me for my dog. Have you seen my dog’s dick? Twice my size, lor,” laughed Shawn.

“Never seen your dick nor your dog’s dick.”

“You want to see?” Shawn offered. “But seriously, since you like him so much and both of you are my friends, let me see what I can do.”

Over the last 2 weeks, Shawn had brought Joey along whenever he was meeting with Mark. They had gone to the movies, shopping, Starbucks and even to the beach. Joey was flaunting her body in a skimpy neon green bikini that had Shawn staring at her non-stop. She was amused when she saw Shawn spotting a hard cock through his swimming trunks. It seemed that it remained hard throughout the afternoon. She did not realise that Shawn was thinking sexually of her. Afterall, they had been friends for many years.

She was thrilled when she realised that Mark was also attracted to her. Or maybe it was just her body. She caught him looking at her several times. But as he was wearing board shorts, she could not see if he was sexually aroused by her. She tried several times to talk to him but he merely murmured some response and left abruptly. It was so frustrating. She even tried to smile at him seductively, or pretend to touch him accidentally on his muscled torso, but he merely turned away. He even rejected her request to put sunblock on her. If Shawn did not tell her that Mark previously had a girlfriend, she would have suspected that he is gay and not interested in girls.

Mark had tried to help Joey again. He has invited Mark and several of his friends to his house to watch a “live” football match, serving cool beer and pizza. Again, Joey had tried to talk to Mark but to no avail. She has given up and decided to sit away from the group of boys who were nosily eating and drinking while watching the match.

Joey was just taking another sip from her beer can when Shawn and one of his friends, Vinod, came up to her.

“Hey, Joey. I just heard from Vinod here what mark’s weakness is. He is so shy that he freezes up when a girl talks to him. But if the girl is passive, he becomes less shy. You are too aggressive lah.”

“Yeah.” Vinod chipped in. “You know how he got together with his previous girlfriend? He was interested in her but did not dare to approach her. He was sending her home after class but she fell asleep in the car. Then he plucked up his courage to kiss her. She woke up and he felt so guilty that he became her boyfriend. You can try that too.”

“So what should I do?” Joey sounded interested. “Do I pretend to be asleep?”

“I thought of a better idea. But it depends on whether you agree or not.” There was a mischievous glint in Shawn’s eyes. Vinod was also grinning. Joey had an uneasy feeling. These guys are plotting something.

“What is it? I know it must be something naughty.” Joey looked at Shawn and Vinod.

“You can pretend to be drunk. We will lay you on my bed and then we will fuck you in turn. Mark will be so turned on seeing us fucking you. Then we will encourage him to fuck you too. But by then, we will leave the room. Once he has fucked you, you can pretend to wake up and confront him. He will have no choice but to listen to you and be your boyfriend.” Shawn proposed.

“Wait. All of you will fuck me? That’s like 7 of you.”

“Yeah, including Mark, that’s eight of us. You will definitely be sex-tisfied.” Shawn smiled.

“Wah liao. You win lor. All of you get a free fuck, what do I gain?”

“You also get a free fuck. No, you get 8 free fucks.” Vinod grinned at his own joke.

“And you get to realise your dream of fucking Mark and getting him to be your boyfriend.” Shawn was pushing all the right buttons. Joey could not think of a reason to say no. After what Shawn had been doing for her the last 2 weeks, it seemed right to reward him for his effort. But she was apprehensive about fucking the rest of his friends.

She knew Vinod as he was also playing on Shawn’s basketball team. She also knew a couple of the other guys, Bryan and Weijie as they were also on Shawn’s basketball team. She was less familiar with Derrick, Rahim and Irfan though. She looked at the group of boys again. Most of them were athletic and muscular. It might actually be enjoyable, she reasoned to herself.

“Ok. I can go along with it but on two conditions.” Joey finally agreed.

“What?” Shawn and Vinod almost shouted in unision. They had clearly planned this and were excited that their plan worked.

“Keep your voices down!” Joey whispered. “All of you must wear condoms. I don’t trust where you have been sticking your dicks. I don’t want to get any STDs.”

“No problem. I have plenty in my room. I have lubes too. I guarantee they will all use condoms,” promised Shawn.

“And I can confirm and double confirm for you, no problem-o!” Vinod offered. “What is the second condition?”

“Does the rest of the guys know about this plan?” Joey asked.

“Nope. Only the two of us.” Shawn replied.

“Okay. Then the second condition is that we keep it a secret between us. No one else must know that I am pretending to be drunk.” Joey looked at the two boys.

“Of course. Just our little secret. No one else will know.” Both boys agreed immediately. “Let’s do this!”

The three friends looked at the rest of the group. All of them had their eyes fixed to the television and did not seem to realise that a plan was being hatched. Shawn and Vinod each held one of Joey’s arms and pretended to lift her from her chair.

“Hey guys! Joey is drunk. Come and help us bring her to my room!” Shawn shouted.

A few of them stood up and walked over, helping Shawn and Vinod carry Joey to the room. They laid Joey down on his bed and she put up a good show of pretending to be drunk, mumbling something incoherently, but otherwise remaining quite motionless.

“She is quite pretty. What say we fuck her?” Joey heard Shawn proposed.

“Are you crazy? That is rape! You can go to jail!”

“She is a friend. She won’t report us to the police. Anyway, she won’t know. Look at her! She is dead drunk.” Vinod responded.

“Well, I am going to fuck her if you are not. I will go first and you can watch.” Shawn announced.

Shawn turned Joey over and removed her t-shirt. “Fuck! Look at those boobs! It must be at least a C-cup.” Shawn moved his hands under her body and expertly removed her bra. Joey felt a tinge if excitement but reminded herself not to make any noise or movement. She felt the cold air touched her nipples. She could feel several pairs of eyes staring at her but she did not dare to peek.

Shawn closed his lips on her nipples, replacing the cold air with his hot lips and tongue. Gosh! He is good at this, Joey thought to herself. Shawn alternated between licking her nipples and gently biting them, sending small sparks up her entire body. Joey clenched her teeth, trying to suppress herself from moaning.

Vinod stepped up to Joey and started to remove her skirt and panties. He got between her legs and started licking her cunt, jabbing it regularly with his tongue.

“Hey, are you going to watch the rest of the match?” Joey heard Mark’s voice and she realised that Mark must be seeing her naked and being fucked by two guys. She was worried if he will be upset.

“Shh! We are taking turns fucking Joey. Don’t wake her up!” Shawn commanded. “Move over, Vinod. I am going first.”

Shawn took out a condom and rolled it over his cock. He positioned his cock at Joey’s cunt opening and found that Joey was already wet and ready for him. He shoved his cock in one stroke, pushing himself to his hilt. He had been fantasising about fucking Joey ever since he saw her in her neon green bikini at the beach. Finally, he knows what fucking Joey’s cunt is like. Tight, warm and pure pleasure. He lifted her legs on his shoulders and continued fucking her. He bent down low and whispered softly in Joey’s ears.

“Fuck! You have such a tight cunt! This is so good! I want to fuck you so many times.”

Within minutes of pumping, Shawn ejaculated in the condom. As he pulled out, Vinod was already ready to fill the gap in Joey’s cunt. Without another word, Vinod plunged his cock into Joey. Joey could feel that Vinod had a longer cock. He was reaching much deeper into her. Joey could not contain herself any more and moaned softly, hoping that no one could hear.

“Fuck! She is enjoying herself! She is moaning!” Someone exclaimed.

The group of boys seemed to be too aroused by the fucking scene. No one seems to be objecting anymore. Joey could feel hands squeezing her boobs, tongues licking her nipples and lips kissing her. She dared not open her eyes to see who was doing what, but she was hoping that Mark was one of them.

Vinod too ejaculated soon after. Two more cocks filled her cunt and provided her with continued pleasure. She did not know whose cocks were those but the she knew the fifth person was Irfan.

“Irfan, you fucking idiot! Put on a condom!” Vinod hissed. Joey was relieved that Vinod kept his promise to ensure that everyone had a condom on. She did not want to get pregnant or STD from this.

“I don’t like condoms. They are too small for my cock.” Irfan complained.

“Then you don’t get to fuck her.” Vinod was insistent.

“Okay, lah.” Irfan reluctantly agreed.

“Then I go first. I cannot tahan any more. She is so hot.” Joey recognised Bryan’s voice. She felt Bryan’s cock struggling to get into her. He was hurting her with his thrusting. Is he so inexperienced or maybe even a virgin? She shifted her body slightly so that it was easier for him to enter her.

“Argh! This is so tight! I am fucking coming!” Bryan ejaculated just as he entered her. Joey felt sorry for Bryan. After all his effort, he came so quickly. Bryan just laid on top of Joey without moving.

“Move it! My turn!” Irfan did not seemed happy that Bryan was delaying his pleasure.

Irfan was not lying when he said he had a big cock. She could feel his cock stretching the walls of her vagina when he entered her. Irfan moved slowly but with each thrust, Joey could feel waves of sensation flow over her. But it was soon over.

After Irfan, another person took over and continued fucking Joey. After several minutes, he ejaculated and withdrew his flaccid cock from Joey.

“Mark, finally it is your turn. Show us all what your giant cock can do.” Shawn challenged.

Joey felt her body freezing up. This is it. This is what she had been wanting for two weeks.

Joey felt a pair of warm hands pulling her legs apart. She could feel the warm tip of Mark’s cock pressing against the lips of her cunt. Is Mark’s cock really that big? Was it longer than Vinod’s or thicker than Irfan’s?

Mark slowly push his cock into Joey. Joey gasped. It was definitely thicker than Irfan’s. Even though she has just been fucked by Irfan’s thick cock, she could feel Mark’s cock pushing the walls of her vagina even further out. It was pain but followed swiftly by blinding pleasure. Mark was still pushing his cock into her. He was already reaching very deep into her yet he continued to push, way beyond where Vinod’s cock last touched.

Joey moaned again in pleasure. She could nonstop herself.

“Fuck! Mark! You are giving her so much pleasure that she will wake up! Pull it out!”

“Shut up! Are you jealous? You fucking came like 2 seconds.”

“I going to take a shower. Anyone coming along?” Joey knew that was part of Shawn’s plan to draw the rest of the boys away. She heard movement and then all was quiet. The rest of the boys must have left the room.

Mark seemed more at ease when the others left the room. He continued to push his huge cock into Joey until their bodies met. He fucked slowly, withdrawing his cock and allowing Joey’s cunt to close up before pushing himself in again, forcing her walls to stretch out. Joey was already pleasured by 7 cocks but she could still feel pleasure from Mark’s large cock. No wonder Shawn complimented Mark’s cock.

Mark increased his pace and Joey continued to enjoy the waves of pleasure that each thrust bring. Mark leaned forward and kissed her breasts, nibbling and licking each of her nipple. He moved up and kissed Joey softly, running his hands through her hair, all the while pumping her cunt and causing her to release rivers of pleasure juice.

Joey could not take it any more. She allowed herself to moan more freely and kissed Mark back. Mark froze for a moment, surprised at the sudden movement. Joey opened her eyes. “Mark, I want you to fuck me and be my boyfriend!”

Mark tried to pull himself out of Joey, but she wrapped her legs around him, not releasing him. “Fuck me!” Joey commanded again.

Left with no choice, Mark continued to fuck Joey, quickening his pace. Joey pushed Mark down on his back and she rode him in cowboy position, grinding herself on Mark’s large cock.

“I am cumming!” Mark whimpered. Joey continued riding Mark till she felt his cock growing soft and finally plopping out of her cunt.

“Can you be my girlfriend?” Mark whispered. That brought Joey the largest wave of pleasure from the fuckfest.

[mymelodyheart]

Starting Over Chapter 1 ~The Birthday Party~

James Fraser peered through his front windshield into the sunlight and wished he was back in his apartment in Edinburgh. If his older sister Jenny hadn't called earlier to drag him out of his blissful, mind-numbing slumber and reminded him of his nephew's birthday, he would have been still in bed. Instead of his usual routine of sleeping until past midday, eating junk food and washing it down with beer, playing Xbox and going back to sleep, he'd found himself putting on some fresh clothes and driving to Lallybroch. His sudden motivation had more to do with his nephew, wee Jamie. He wouldn't miss his birthday for the world, come rain or shine. Unfortunately, sunshine and children's parties seldom bode well for his mood while nursing a massive hangover.

It had been three months since he was last in Lallybroch - three months of avoiding his family and dodging questions about his future. He knew he'd hit his limit for grieving the untimely death of his career and feeling sorry for himself. It was time to face the world of adulting, and it was time for a change.  But what change? A job in the Fraser distillery?  It was his legacy and fallback plan, after all.

But he didn't need the money, and his brother-in-law, Ian Murray, was more than capable of overseeing its running. He considered going away to take an extended sabbatical and figure out what he wanted to do with life.

Not too long ago, he had been the nation's sports phenomenon until his sterling rugby career was prematurely cut short by a neck injury sustained during a Six Nations game against France. Later, it was discovered that he had a triple fracture of the vertebrae. Although he avoided any serious nerve damage and had worked with the best therapist in the country in an attempt to get back on the field, he'd been advised by his doctor and friend, Joe Abernathy to retire.

See it this way - you could have ended up in a wheelchair. Count your blessings, Jamie. You're still young, you have a fat bank account from your time in rugby and sponsorships, and the future is full of possibilities. How about going back to your roots? Like your family's distillery?

Jamie pushed himself out of his black BMW SUV with an annoyed grunt and grabbed the toy bicycle from the back seat of the car. He could hear the loud, shrill screams of children and smell burger meat grilling on the BBQ. Tugging on the collar of his T-shirt, he grimaced at the perspiration running down his back. It was a warm day, and already a headache was starting to grow. From his vantage point, he could see the flowers in the front of the manor house in full bloom and the path leading to the rear garden where the party was being held. Colourful birthday buntings were hung, and balloons decorated posts and hedges. Whether he wanted to be surrounded by people at that moment or not, coming home always hit him with a sense of nostalgia for a time when life was less complicated.

Tamping down the sudden urge to turn around and walk away, he thought of his wee nephew and kept moving. He wondered what kind of reception he would receive now that his identity had been stripped away. He'd always been a rugby player and the game ran in his veins. However, it appeared that the end of his career seemed to have cast a shadow over his every interaction. Ever since he retired, the topic of rugby had been delicately avoided anywhere he went. He thought if someone asked him about the weather or complimented on how good he looks one more time, he was going to implode.

Is this how it's going to be from now on? Pretending as though ten years of his rugby career never happened? What was the point of all the hard work then?

Jamie came to a stop when he reached the back of the house and took in the scene before him. A few adults were clustered around the makeshift buffet, and some congregated around the BBQ. There were probably around twenty children surrounding an entertainer who was dressed as a cartoon character from Paw Patrol.   Conscious of his damp shirt sticking to him, he felt sorry for whoever was in the mascot outfit on this sweltering day. Somehow it made the state of his mood, and the complexity of his life seemed insignificant compared to the person earning a living dressed as a dog. Disgusted with his wallowing and despondency, he pulled himself together and took in a huge fortifying breath and braced himself.

"Uncle Jamie! Uncle Jamie! Ye're here!"

Jamie's gaze landed on the small figure hurtling towards him, hands flapping in the air. Putting the toy bike on the ground, he crouched down and grinned, opening his arms to catch his nephew. His lousy mood and discomfort dissipated all at once. " A chuilein ," he breathed, gripping the boy's small frame and lifting him in the air. He smelled of lollies, vanilla buttercream and baby sweat.

Wee Jamie squealed with delight as he was spun around. "I knew ye'd come, uncle! Ma said ye have lots and lots to do." As soon as he was released, he eyed the shiny red bike and let out a gasp. "Is that my pressie, uncle?"

He laughed. "Aye, that it is. Want to try it?"

"Ma! Look what I got from uncle Jamie!" his namesake shouted at the top of his lungs as he excitedly got on the bike. 

Jamie watched his nephew pedal towards his mother to show off his latest acquisition. 

Jenny turned, smiled and then she was coming towards him.

"Aah, the prodigal son is back home." Her face was flushed with heat, and her expression showed relief. He had been expecting reproof or anything of that sort. But his sister seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Guilt prickled his nerves. "Jenny ...can we talk?"

"Not now lad. We have plenty of time for that later. I'm just glad ye could make it." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek and stood back to get a better look at him, a platter dangling in one hand. "I need to get more buns in the kitchen. Can ye sort out the lass in the mascot costume for me? My purse is upstairs," she explained, jerking a thumb towards the children's entertainer.

"Aye, of course, I'll do that." There was a squeeze in his chest at the prospect of facing his whole family and explaining his disappearance. He knew it had to be done, and it was only a matter of time.  

..........

What have I gotten myself into? Argh, Geillis you owe me big time! 

Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp rolled on her back in the grass, gasping for air as half a dozen five-year-olds piled on top of her. The impact of hyper and sugar-high children nearly dislodged her mask. She wished she was dressed as a clown or some other cartoon character instead, and one that didn't require her to put on such a weighty headgear. Alas, the birthday boy was a Paw Patrol fan.

Under different circumstances, she would have enjoyed the company of children, but she felt like dying from heat and exhaustion. Sweat trickled down the nape of her neck, and the fusty smell of her mascot headgear was making her nauseous. Without looking at the mirror, she knew her hair was an untamed mass of frizz thanks to the humidity.

Surprisingly, she hadn't collapsed from fatigue after her back to back shift at the hospital. She had been up all night when she was called into trauma surgery during an emergency. Despite having very little sleep and her body crying out for a much-needed rest, she couldn't back out on her promise to help her best friend, Geillis. 

Geillis had just started her own business in children's party entertainment. The venture was still at its early stages, and because she was double-booked that day and didn't have enough money yet to hire extra staff, she had pleaded to help her do the Paw Patrol gig in Lallybroch. 

How could she say no? Claire was already guilt-ridden for the many times she had cancelled on their night outs. These days her life revolved around her job at the hospital, planning her wedding and Frank. It was the least she could do for her neglected friend and social life.

"Who's hungry?" a voice shouted from the designated BBQ area. "Burgers, hotdogs and chips are ready!"

Instantly she was relieved from the weight of tiny bodies holding her down. Sitting up, she adjusted her mask as the children abandoned her for food.

"Um, Geillis?" She looked up. It was Jenny Fraser, the mother of the birthday boy. Claire hadn't bothered correcting her and elaborating that she was a stand-in for her friend. After all, this was just one-off and favour for Geillis.

"Yes?"

"Listen, the other children's entertainer is here already, and the bairns are eating. I believe yer two hours are up. D'ye mind collecting yer fees from my brother? He's just arrived and..." Jenny shrugged, looking down at the empty platter she was holding. "...as ye can see my hands are full at the moment."

She stood up, and through the eyeholes of the dog mask, she glanced at the newcomer. 

Aah, bloody hell, it's James Fraser. The Highland's homegrown hero is back.  She wondered how she failed to make the connection. She was in Lallybroch, the childhood home of Scotland's rugby best and finest centre.

"Ah, of course, I don't mind."

Jenny gave her a grateful look and smiled. "And thank ye. I ken it's nae job for the faint-hearted keeping the wee bairns entertained especially on a hot day like this. Ye must be shattered. Not to worry, though, I promise to give a good review online for yer new business."

She bobbed her big doggie head and watched Jenny turn and approach her brother before disappearing into the house. 

After all these years, the sight of James Fraser could still make her heart kick into a gallop and the moisture in her mouth dry right up. What is it about this man that turned her into a lovesick teenager just by looking at him?

Easy now, Beauchamp. You're as good as married. Remember Frank?  The weight of the three-carat diamond engagement ring on her finger served as a reminder.  Think Frank! Frank! Frank! Frank!   But her head refused to obey, and she continued to stare.

The first and only time she exchanged words with James Fraser, he was half-naked in the men's locker room being treated for a hamstring injury during a game. Her friend, Joe Abernathy, was a Tournament Medical Manager for the team, and through him, she had been there to assist for her own selfish reason - to see a live rugby match, up-close. It hadn't been difficult for Joe to get her in since she was an intern from the Royal Infirmary Hospital, and was more than qualified to assist. 

She remembered only too well when she came face to face with the famous rugby player. He had been cocky as sin when she was caught staring awestruck instead of preparing the ice pack for his thigh. How could she not stare? Given his considerable height and athletic frame, he was one fine specimen of a man, gorgeous and bursting with character. 

"Like what ye see, love?" he asked in amusement, flexing his pecs to tease her.

Mortified at being called out, she felt the heat creep up her neck. Not one to be intimidated by the display of cheek, she swallowed her embarrassment and tilted her chin at him. "To be honest, I've seen better. Robbie Henshaw is more my type," she retorted, referring to another rugby player.

A ruddy eyebrow shot up. "A sassenach that fancies an Irish charm! Weel, that's funny. I had a feeling ye like looking at my arse."

Ooh, the arrogance!  "Sorry to give you the wrong impression Mr Fraser but, I thought I was looking at your face." Joe's snort and Jamie's frown sent her backing away to get the ice before he could respond. But by the time she returned, he was already surrounded by his manager and other paramedical crew, her presence and their exchange soon to be forgotten. It didn't come as a surprise since, in the grand scheme of things, she was just one of a myriad of faces he came across daily.

Later on, Joe teased her regarding the chaffing rejoinder she had launched at Jamie. "You should have seen his face after that comeback you did back there?"

"Sorry?"

"Come on, LJ ...stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw sparks flying." LJ stood for Lady Jane, a nickname Joe had given her during her first year of internship at the Royal Infirmary Hospital. It all began when their mutual friends made fun of her voice, and posh English accent, jokingly pointing out that she sounded like she just had tea with the queen. The moniker remained ever since.

"Sparks? You must have mistaken it for my short fuse firing off."

Joe boomed with laughter as he walked away. "You definitely like the man ...no use denying it. Your mouth may be saying one thing, but your face tells another story."

"I most certainly do not!" 

"Oh, and LJ?" Joe paused and turned around, ignoring her vehement denial.

"Yeah?"

"Don't believe everything you read in the newspaper about Jamie. Most are just tabloid nonsense."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever."

Yes, it's true she had a crush on James Fraser and had religiously followed his career. But her infatuation was just that and nothing more, even though she was often teased by her colleagues in her early years of internship. She was realistic enough to admit he was way out of her league, especially when he had been photographed and linked to high profile women in the past and fawned over by over-eager fans. After the locker room incident, she crossed path with James Fraser a couple more times, and there was never any hint of recognition on his part. She simply put it down to her baseball cap concealing most of her face and her refusal to engage, in case the embarrassing episode of her ogling at him was brought up.

Over a year and a half ago, she'd watched him score try after try for the national team during the World Cup, along with everyone in the local pub she frequented. There had never been a doubt he was destined to become one of the all-time greats in the rugby world. But no one had seen the injury coming, especially Jamie. Claire could still remember the heartbreak in his eyes when he announced his retirement on live TV at the age of twenty-eight, despite the light-hearted joke about having more time to practice his golf swings. And just like that, he disappeared from the media circuit. 

After a while, rumours started to spread that he had gone off on a self-destructive bender. Joe Abernathy had confirmed the stories were true and he had tried to reach out to him, and so had the local community and his own family. Instead of being coaxed out into the light, James Fraser hid in his apartment, refusing to answer calls and emails. She thought what a waste if he ended up as a drunken slob as she'd never known him to be anything but a fiercely confident man even to a fault. Although she was a nobody to James Fraser, she had urged Joe multiple times to keep trying to reach out. Unfortunately, he didn't want the help and soon, even his staunchest fans began to lose interest. Except, maybe her.

Making her way towards him, she watched with interest as James Fraser smiled at his nephew whizzing about on his new toy bike. Russet coloured hair curled unruly over his brow and brushed the nape of his neck. He looked rather pale, and it was the first time she'd seen him with a beard. The uneven state of it told her the facial hair was a product of self-neglect rather than a style change. Her gaze dipped lower. With his feet braced apart, arms folded across his chest and at least his six-four height, he towered with an impressive bearing. Clad in faded black jeans that hung low on his hips and a white t-shirt that stretched over his muscular build, he looked like a modern Highland warrior.

"Hi there." 

Claire's thought bubble burst, and she quickly reeled in her dwindling focus and pulled it higher until she met his eyes. A pair of pale ice blue with piercing intensity momentarily froze her in place.  Right! What was it again I'm supposed to do? Oh yeah, collect the money, and get the hell out of here. Piece of cake.  "Hi." 

He gave her a forced smile as he fumbled at the back of his jean's pocket. "Ye've come to collect yer money. How much does my sister owe ye?" 

"That'll be seventy quid, please. And um, good to see you out and about, Mr Fraser."

He stopped and squinted at her as if attempting to see through her doggie disguise. "Ah, a sassenach!"

"Yes, I've been reminded often enough."

There was a moment of silence.

Puffing his cheeks, he dragged a hand through his hair and rapidly let out a lungful of air. "Christ, I didn't mean it that way. And please call me Jamie. Everyone else does. And nae need to be so formal!"

She nodded her big head. "Alright ...Jamie, it is then. And don't worry. I didn't take offence. I know you didn't mean anything by it."

He was about to pull a note out of his wallet, but he stopped. As if he was in search of the right words to say. "Ye have a beautiful voice. What's the word ...aye, husky. Kinda like a bedroom voice."

Her heart skipped a beat, and she searched his face. It seemed he was genuinely just attempting small talk. "Thank you."

"Would ye like a drink before ye go? It's a hot day. Ye must be parched."

"Ah, no, I'm quite alright. But thanks."

"Ye have a name?" He drew out a hundred-pound note from his wallet, pinching it between his fingers.

"Call me Chase. I'm one of the Paw Patrols." When he laughed out loud, she was grateful for the mask that hid her unexpected smile. 

"Weel, Chase I think ye sound bonnie." He took a careful step forward to peek through the eyehole. "Ye bonnie under there, Chase?"

Oh no, you don't!  She took two steps back.  This is getting bloody ridiculous.  In as much as Claire was enjoying the harmless blather with the handsome Scot, she knew she was running out of time. She had a couple of hours of nap to take, shower, and meet Frank for a dinner date. For the most part, he was affecting her in ways that no other man had made her feel. Including Frank. "I really need to go," she said hoarsely.

"Right. Just one request before ye go. I'll give ye this ..." He waved the hundred-pound note in front of her. "...and ye can keep the change if ye let me see yer face."

Claire felt a stab of exasperation.  Why does it matter what I look like?  She was exhausted, hot and bothered and all she wanted right there and then was to get out of the stuffy costume. "Why do you need to see my face?"

Suddenly he looked uncomfortable. "What I meant ..."

She didn't let him finish. "What if you don't like what you see? Do I have to give the change back? Don't you have enough girls fawning over you?"

His shame morphed into annoyance and then into smug. "Careful, Sassenach, ye're starting to sound a little jealous to me."

Ooh, he's back to his usual cocky self.  "Wot? Me? Jealous?" she fumed almost sputtering. 

"Aye, jealous." He looked like he enjoyed making her feel uncomfortable as a corner of his mouth lifted into a half-smile.

A cloud above her head darkened, lightning threatening to shoot at all sides. She knew it was the heat and exhaustion that was making her cranky and tried to take calming breaths. "You're presumptuous and rude."

"And ye're annoyed because I can see that the idea of girls fawning me irks ye."

That's it, I've had enough of this palaver.

Claire rolled her lips inward to plump them, then reached up and removed her mask. Gratification coursed through her when his jaw went slack, and his blue eyes turned a deeper shade.  That's right matey, I am not at all that bad!  As she took a step forward, he straightened his posture, a groan escaping from his throat. He saw the intention in her eyes and knew what was coming.

"Jealous, you say?" she hissed. Remembering the embarrassment Jamie had caused her during their initial meeting, she shoved him against the wall of the house, not caring if anyone was watching the spectacle she was creating. Surging up on her toes, she brought her face up close to his, their noses almost touching. "That's right, darling, I would rock your world."

Ah, what the heck ...I'm getting married soon, I might as well.  Not giving Jamie a chance to get a word in edgeways, she leaned even closer and merged their mouths together. To her astonishment, his lips parted, and the kiss hit the ground running in no time. One strong hand gripped her chin and pulled it down further, allowing him to slant his head and deepen the kiss more.  Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!  Shock exploded into her brain, and she swayed a little under the onslaught of heat. Jamie pushed his tongue deeper, making a low moaning sound, and she echoed it in kind. Then she felt his hand slide behind her neck as if he couldn't allow her to get away, and that's when she knew she was losing control.  What the hell are you doing Beauchamp? Remember Frank?

Claire pulled away and took a deep breath. With his mouth damp and parted, he too was trying to draw in as much air as he could, his face a mask of stunned disbelief. "Ye look familiar. Who the hell are ye?"

Swallowing the odd lump in her throat, she plucked the hundred-pound note out of his fingers. "I'm gone. I'll have a receipt sent over." She took a few steps, stopped and then turned around to look at him. "Oh, by the way, I sincerely hope you're done feeling bad about your rugby career. Circumstances mess everyone up once in a while. And I guess it's fair to say, you've been messed up really bad. But, please, don't lie down and play the victim. I know you're better than this. Look at this way, you've achieved more than anyone could in a lifetime. You did it, Jamie. You've already achieved what you set to do. And I wish you all the luck in the world." 

Taking advantage of the group of people approaching them, she hurried away.

"Hey ...wait, what's yer name?"

This time she didn't respond nor look back. With as much dignity as one could summon while dressed in a doggie costume, she ran as fast as she could.

[lindoig7]

Tuesday-Thursday, 10-12 November

Tuesday

We walked east along the Snowy River Estuary from Marlo a few days ago, but today we walked west from Frenches Narrows back towards Marlo along the same beach.  We had turned around at a particular old washed-up tree on our first walk so turned around again today when we reached the same old sun-bleached tree carcase.

We parked at the top of the cliff and walked down the path, across a footbridge (the Narrows?) and around the end of an arm of the estuary, right across to the ocean beach to start with.  It was pretty wild and windy there so after a quick look, we retraced our steps across the footbridge to the base of the cliff and walked along the path and boardwalk for some distance before finding it too hot and mosquito-ridden out of the wind so detoured to the beach and walked on the sand.  A bit harder going, but the wind cooled us a bit and the mozzies left us (almost) alone.

There were few plants and flowers that we hadn’t seen numerous times before, but there was quite a selection of birds, mainly seabirds, but with a good number of other species too – 31 species all up!

We sat on the ‘Turnaround Tree’ to eat our lunch and were surprised to see 9 little Red-Capped Plovers fly in to a spit of sand quite close to us.  We watched them foraging for a while and then 5 White-faced Herons flew in to a marshy area on the other side of our tree so we also watched them.  And soon after we started back, a group of other waders flew in a bit further away but still within photographic range – just.  I took some pics in an endeavour to identify them and subsequently sent a few to my well-respected birding expert to confirm or modify my identification.  They proved to be 3 species not previously seen this trip and one I had never seen before – taking our count of unique species identified this trip to 153!

We returned to the dunes and thence to the boardwalk en route back to the car and picked up about 6 or 7 bush-birds skulking beside the track.

We drove back through Marlo on the way back to our caravan but didn’t see anything new there or on the way home.  I love the 15 km drive from Marlo to Orbost, but that was the last time we did it this trip.

Wednesday

This was our last day for an excursion before we move on so we wanted to make the most of it.

We went out on another of my favourite roads toward Buchan and turned off at Monument Track – at a place I had been too reluctant to tackle on one of our previous very wet excursions.  The first 80 or 90 metres is the worst, incredibly steep with the motor roaring as I planted my foot, but we got there and headed for Stringers Knob, a historical Fire Tower that had eluded us last time due to fallen trees across the road.  It was a fairly hairy drive, but we got there this time only to find the area closed.  The Tower was built of two huge logs mounted end-to-end and was 120 metres high with what looked very much like a small shipping container on top.  Definitely not for the faint-hearted, shinning up the side of the lookout at the start and end of each shift.  Alas, it is no more!  It was built on the very top of a high hill and the ground around it was obviously cleared, but not well enough to prevent its destruction in the bushfires early this year.  We ignored the ‘Closed’ sign and crept around the gate and climbed the hill to see the devastation.  The massive logs were largely burned and the lookout that was perched atop the structure was spread around for 100 metres or more.  What was more astonishing was the spread of molten metal all around the top of the hill.  A lot of it looked like some sort of alloy – solder perhaps(?) but  molten twisted iron as well. The heat must have been quite horrendous and it was sad to see such a historic monument reduced to charred logs and ash.

And speaking of ash, after re-joining the ‘main’ road, we headed for Ash Saddle, via Basin Creek Falls.  The ‘via’ was a misnomer!  We went for miles along the most unbelievable track, deteriorating with each twist and turn until we came to a small creek.  The creek was no trouble at all – shallow and only a few metres across, but getting down to it and out again was certainly a big challenge. The banks were almost vertical and I had visions of some of the adventures we have watched on the Old Telegraph Road to the Cape York ‘Tip’ in Queensland. There were ruts well over half a metre deep, but hopefully, we could find a safer route. There were wheel-tracks from another vehicle that had successfully navigated the creek before us and never let it be said that we are not up to the challenge, so in low range and riding the brakes, we careered down the bank into the creek and with gears screaming, we lurched and bumped up the other side, gazing heavenward with no idea where the car was pointing.  Definitely an extreme few moments that really tested the entry and escape angles on our mighty Toyota. We made it but arriving on the other side, I quickly scanned to see where the road went.  It didn’t!  There was no road!!  There was a pair of heavily overgrown wheel-tracks up the hill to the left, but after walking half a kilometre up there, it was just getting narrower and more dangerous with each step – clearly it has been years since anyone or any vehicle passed that way!

We had quite clear instructions as to how to get to Basin Creek Falls via the Old Basin Creek Track and we were certainly in the right place, but we never got close to any Falls.

Back across the creek, guessing where those horrific wheel ruts were and finally back to the main track again.  We branched off on the Tulloch Ard Track towards the Ash Saddle Walk and Betts Creek Track.  We had driven the Tulloch Ard Track from the other end a couple of days ago, but when we arrived in the Ash Saddle carpark, there was another well-equipped big rig and a couple of adventurous young guys who told us that they had tried to get to Betts Creek but found the track just too hard.  They must have walked the final section because they said it was lovely beside the creek, but simply too hard to get there.  We ate lunch in the car and then did the Ash Saddle Walk.  It was relatively short and not too hard, mainly through a tree-fern (and mosquito) forest.  It was basically a loop that brought us back to the carpark.

We drove the rest of the Tulloch Ard Track, passing the place where we walked a few days ago, and ended up at Gelantipy where we just turned south and headed for home, including the lovely drive from Buchan back to Orbost.

Thursday

A working day most of the day today.  We had a lot of packing up and cleaning, Hosed down the awning and part of the roof again and consolidated things in the van enabling us to transfer a few more things between the car and the van to make things more convenient for us.

My hayfever has been niggling for a few days, but it hit with a vengeance in the afternoon – and has been a torment ever since.  I have been taking two different antihistamines, one of them twice a day as well as double doses of Sudafed to try to keep it under control, but life has lost a little its lustre as a consequence.  It is certainly the worst dose of hayfever I have endured for close to 20 years.

We both went for a final walk around the billabong in the afternoon.  I love it and have walked around it at least every second day since we have been here.  Not a lot of birds there today, but it had been windy with a few showers during the day so maybe they were hiding.

And it was fish and chips for dinner again to save unpacking some of the things we had packed during the day.

[swimmmusic]

The Lambskin Condom Apocalypse Clinking and clanking in its hinges. The wind off the semi-trucks rattles the gate. Its joints lightly rusted from recent rain. Rain that makes LA drivers scramble around the highway in the kind of frenzy that will ensue when the Zombie Apocalypse actually does take place. Devouring us all and our gluten-free cracker boxes, over-sized paper towel squares, essential oil tinctures, anti-aging Vitamin E lotion bottles, medium Frie cardboard holders, once worn and now forgotten stilettos, chipped red tool boxes, popsicle sticks, Blow-Pop wrappers, secret-wielding journals, waterproof phone cases, twice-thrifted vinyls, temperamental mirrors, auspicious to-do-lists, lambskin condoms, ankle socks, initial-bearing handkerchiefs, futon frames and carbonated mixed-drink cups. Yes, all of that. Gone. Accompanying the rattle of the gate is music from the Cross-Fit Gym a block away. It’s aggressive. Though it does sound motivating, in a foreboding, militant manner. It could either be the Cadence to the Wehrmacht or a new Disturbed song. Either way it’s offensive. On many levels. Today is Sunday. It is usually quieter. Alas it is relatively still at my place. My ‘front yard’ is a driveway, splattered in dust and oil stains. As if a Cal-Arts sophomore became obsessed with Burnt Umber and disenchanted with the restrictive nature (or perhaps just the tedious up-keep) of brushes, thus deciding to throw paint at a canvas for a semester. (Surely leading to a C minus but much fun in the form of psilocybin induced Pareidolia.) The driveway bakes in the dry air. The tequila seeps through the pores in small beads of sweat… Back in the concrete jungle. But just a few hours ago, in the latter part of an unexpected wild night, I sat on the lavish deck of a mansion in Beverly Hills with 4 models discussing what they had stolen from the patio bathroom. The patio was as far as they were allowed to go. With me that is. A giant Samoan bouncer in a bespoke suit told us, apologetically, that the pool, hot tub and tree house were restricted to female guests. The girls had my back. Or at least no interest in swimming in the pool so we returned to the deck. Other girls in tight dresses wandered in and out of the bar area. Caterers were packing up food. One told me, “you should have been here a few hours ago.” ~~~ “A few hours ago” ~~~ We stood outside of a club called Warwick. One of the girls I was with knew a promoter so we waited for him to come outside while everyone looked each other up and down and evaluated in their own minds who was in fact, better than who… strictly in the terms of social status, wealth and beauty. The thing is, until someone grants you access, the people working the door look at you like you are the gum that stuck to their shoe in the parking lot; utterly annoyed that you exist, slightly confused as to why you exist and determined to get rid of you without getting any sticky residue on their fingers. This usually makes me feel small and very insecure. A little sad too I think. Not for myself, but that humans can ever take part in such grotesque behaviors such as war, theft, and in this case, human denigration via low admittance door policies at ‘da club’. Just as I felt me, myself and my self-worth sinking down between the cracks of the sidewalk, a guy with a tight shirt, feathered hair and a middle part came to let us in. (The middle part looked surprisingly good for a middle part.) I have met a few of these promoters and they seem to have the same demeanor with me each time. They glance at me for a second, realize I am part of the package deal, begrudgingly shake my hand and move on to the ladies. There is a part of them that remembers I am a human but that part has been suppressed so strongly by bottle service guidelines that trying to make any meaningful contact feels like someone from the aforementioned zombie apocalypse trying to talk their bitten friend into staying human. We are escorted to an elevated lounge area with a table. Tequila and vodka bottles twinkle on the table like jewels in a Tiffany’s display case. The promoter asks me what I’d like to drink and pours it strong. I’m undeniably charmed a little. Before the alcohol takes effect I gaze around the giant club. I have been to Warwick a couple times and experience the same anxiety in the first ten minutes each time. The ceilings are high. The music is very loud. The people are very handsome. The shirt collars are very sharp. The fedoras are very fedora-y. The high heels are very high and make most girls walk very awkwardly. Along with my anxiety, I feel myself start to judge. But I don’t want to. So I take some deep breaths and ask to see it all differently. I tell myself, “Chris, people have different tastes. It’s ok that people enjoy this. Maybe you can?” Then something magical happens. After the fourth time my friend tells me to take a shot with her and after the fourth time I oblige, I find myself laughing, dancing, hooting, and hands-in-the-air-fake-rapping along to a song I don’t know the words to. DAMMIT! Despite all best intentions, I am now having an absolute blast at Warwick. I can blame it on whatever I want. Booze? Good friends that are unfairly attractive? Infectious party music? Booze? Surprisingly short unisex bathroom lines? Booze? Surprisingly congenial girls in the surprisingly short unisex bathroom lines? The bouncer’s feathered, weightless hair that somehow looks great with a middle part? BOOZE!!! But hey, no matter the cause, I had a mother fucking blast in DA CLUB. Fast forward now passed all these shenanigans to the end of my wild night in Hollywood. What kind of an ending could such an adventure close with you must be wondering? If you guessed a skinny dip in the mansion’s heated pool with pre-paid escorts and the most legendary game of Marco Polo since Ian Zeiring and Scott Baio took on the Grotto… you would be wrong. Optimistic. But wrong. However if you guessed a mud bath with four models in the bed of a Ford Ranchero, where the mud was replaced with Nutella while Gala apple slices rained down from the heavens burying our extremities leaving only our mouths to dip, snap and crunch our way to open air… well… again, you would be wrong. An ambitious little crépe you are, but wrong. Ok, but really now… guess how it could have ended. Yes! Taco Bell! Taco Bell, indeed. We made it in the doors just before closing time. CONFIRMING GOD WAS ON OUR SIDE! But moments later, when it was our turn to order, they refused us service because it was 5 minutes passed closing time. SOLIDIFYING GOD HAD FORSAKEN US! Judging from our reactions, one would have thought we were being ushered into the unlucky side of a Zombie triage line. Luckily, the girls knew a different promoter that was also denied Cheesy Gordita glory. (And yes, in Hollywood promoters are everywhere… like Maserattis… any time you turn your head one is whisking by with some blonde happy to be along for the ride.) He told us of a different Mexican place that would serve us. (Sidenote: Is Taco Bell actually considered Mexican? #deepthots) The girl driving us parried, “But it’s not Taco Bell! Is it good?” He sighed and replied, “It’s open.” I remember thinking to myself in my drunken state, “Damn, that was wise as fuck.” I squinted and shielded my growing respect. The real point of this part of the story is that I have met this promoter multiple times. Each time he barely looks at me in the eye, sadly realizes I’m part of the package deal and begrudgingly shakes my hand as if we have never met. And he does it again. I’m too drunk to think all zen and woke-like so I don’t take any deep breaths. Judgement begins to swirl fiercely around the Sammy Hagar-branded Tequila river rapids in my head. But before I know it, something magical happens! Again! He goes and pays for all of our Mexican food! But get this! Then he just leaves! Like Batman saving us from impending doom! Disappearing before he can collect on his munificent errand. Consider me CHARMED much! I went from commiserating over whether or not it’s a power play for him to be so flippant of my existence to fantasizing about him adopting me as his little Ahijado! I ate a quesadilla. Then I ate two pastor tacos. Then I ate half of one of the girl’s enchiladas. Then I sighed and looked down in defeat. *Earlier that day I had promised myself I would not drink or eat past 9 pm for the rest of the week. So how do I judge Warwick if I had a great night that I’ll always (barely) remember. How do I judge promoters for treating me like a sub-human if they buy me Quesadillas that I’ll never (kind of) forget?!! Ugh. I suppose it is possible to ‘see things differently’. No matter where you are, judging only leaves ya less likely to have fun. Or less likely to stuff your face with a hangover-assuaging enchilada. The end… well, at least for the human portion of my audience… The rest is for God, of which whom I was abandoned by in Taco Bell, but have come to peace with since. Ok, thou One and Only-est… despite all these diplomatic mantras I have reached in my enlightened state… I must address that zombie apocalypse… with all its fleshy deserts and carnal terror? Well Lord, I still ask you please, please take Warwick first; but also please let me have one more night there before you do. I know what you’re thinking, God. But who knew Hell on Earth could be so fun?! -Cookie da Club Crasher * Note from author about title. As for all the things that will go in the end of days… Perhaps not lambskin condoms. I believe those are a myth, produced to drive guilt into the hearts of those without a latex allergy, still too careless to wrap it up. ‘What never existed can never be relinquished’. Which metaphysically speaking, makes Lambskin condoms the most durable form of protection on the market! Now ya know! Be safe kiddos.)