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atlanticsystemsinc · 4 months ago

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Unlocking Success: How Atlantic Systems Inc. Transforms Liquor Stores with Advanced POS Systems

In the fast-paced world of retail, staying ahead of the competition requires innovation and efficiency. For liquor store owners, a specialized Point of Sale (POS) system can be a game-changer. Atlantic Systems Inc. has been at the forefront of providing tailored POS solutions for liquor stores for over 30 years. This blog explores how their advanced Liquor POS Systems can revolutionize your business.

Streamlined Operations A primary advantage of adopting a Liquor POS System from Atlantic Systems Inc. is the significant improvement in operational efficiency. Traditional cash registers and generic POS systems often fall short in meeting the specific needs of liquor stores. Atlantic Systems Inc.’s solutions are designed to handle everything from sales transactions to inventory management seamlessly. This integration eliminates the need for multiple systems, reducing errors and saving time.

Superior Inventory Management Inventory management is critical in the liquor industry, where maintaining a diverse and well-stocked selection is key to satisfying customer demands. Atlantic Systems Inc. provides real-time inventory tracking, allowing you to monitor stock levels accurately. Their POS systems generate alerts for low stock items, enabling timely reorders and preventing stockouts. Additionally, the system can track sales trends, helping you identify which products are popular and which are not, so you can adjust your inventory accordingly.

Compliance and Age Verification Liquor stores must comply with stringent regulations, particularly concerning age verification. Atlantic Systems Inc.’s Liquor POS Systems come equipped with robust age verification features. The system prompts cashiers to check IDs and can even integrate with ID scanning technology to ensure compliance with legal requirements. This functionality not only helps avoid hefty fines and legal issues but also promotes responsible retailing.

Enhanced Customer Experience A smooth, efficient checkout process is crucial for customer satisfaction. Atlantic Systems Inc.’s POS systems are designed to expedite transactions, reducing wait times and improving the overall shopping experience. The systems support various payment methods, including credit cards, mobile payments, and contactless transactions, offering customers flexibility and convenience. Furthermore, integrating loyalty programs and personalized promotions can enhance customer retention and boost sales.

Detailed Reporting and Analytics Understanding your business’s performance is essential for making informed decisions. Atlantic Systems Inc. offers POS systems with comprehensive reporting and analytics capabilities. These tools provide insights into sales trends, customer behavior, and inventory levels. With detailed reports at your fingertips, you can identify opportunities for growth, optimize your product mix, and develop effective marketing strategies.

Advanced Security Features Security is a top priority for any retail business, especially those dealing with high-value inventory like liquor stores. Atlantic Systems Inc.’s POS systems are equipped with advanced security features to protect your data and transactions. From encrypted payment processing to secure access controls, these systems safeguard your business against fraud and unauthorized access. Peace of mind is invaluable, and with a secure POS system, you can focus on running your business without worrying about security breaches.

Scalability and Customization As your business grows, your POS system should be able to grow with it. Atlantic Systems Inc. offers scalable solutions that can be customized to meet the evolving needs of your liquor store. Whether you’re expanding to new locations, adding new products, or implementing new services, their POS systems can adapt to support your growth. This flexibility ensures that your investment in a POS system remains valuable as your business evolves.

Exceptional Support and Training Atlantic Systems Inc. understands that adopting a new POS system can be daunting. That’s why they offer exceptional customer support and training services. Their team of experts is available to assist with installation, setup, and ongoing maintenance. Comprehensive training ensures that you and your staff can fully utilize the system’s features, maximizing its benefits for your business.

Conclusion Investing in a specialized Liquor POS System from Atlantic Systems Inc. is a strategic decision that can transform your liquor store’s operations. From streamlined processes and superior inventory management to enhanced security and detailed analytics, their POS systems are designed to meet the unique needs of liquor retailers. With over three decades of experience, Atlantic Systems Inc. is committed to helping your business thrive in a competitive market. Upgrade your POS system today and experience the difference it can make for your liquor store. For inquiries, reach out to us at 732-280-6616 or [email protected]. Cheers to exploration and connection at Atlantic Systems Inc or visit our website at https://atlanticsystemsinc.com/to discover more.

#Liquor Store POS System #Liquor POS #POS Liquor Store #Liquor POS Systems

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learninglanguagestothrive · 10 months ago

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What exactly is bonded warehouse?

Bonded warehouse holds a pivotal role in the realm of warehousing and logistics, offering businesses a distinct solution for more efficient goods management while complying with customs and tax regulations. This article delves into the concept of bonded products and their diverse types.

For manufacturers, importers, or distributors, a grasp of bonded goods can unlock avenues to streamline logistics processes.

What exactly is bonded warehouse?

Bonded inventory refers to goods imported into a country without paying customs duties or taxes. These goods find shelter in a top-tier bonded warehouse, protected by a customs bond.

The bond's objective is to ensure that upon the goods' release from the warehouse and their entry into the domestic market, the importer settles all relevant duties and taxes.

Bonded goods can be a money-saving avenue for importers and exporters, enhancing cash flow and bypassing duties in multiple countries during transit.

Varieties of bonded warehouse Various forms of bonded goods exist, depending on the item's nature and storage requirements. Here are some common types:

Dry-bonded inventory: Stored in a dry customs-bonded warehouse, this inventory encompasses all goods except alcohol and tobacco items. It can range from electronics and clothing to furniture and toys.

Wet-bonded inventory: This inventory, limited to alcohol and tobacco, resides in a wet-bonded warehouse. It may include liquor, wine, beer, cigarettes, cigars, etc.

Public-bonded inventory: Accessible to anyone, public-bonded warehouses accommodate all types of imports and exports complying with customs regulations.

Private bonded inventory: Exclusive to individuals possessing a permit issued by customs authorities, private bonded warehouses house goods owned by the permit holder or their authorized agents.

What are the key benefits of bonded warehouse in global trade?

Storing goods in customs-bonded warehouses or facilities provides several pivotal advantages in the global trade arena, such as:

Ensuring compliance with customs laws and regulations across various countries.

Simplifying customs procedures related to import and export, thus facilitating international trade.

Safeguarding goods and commodities through stringent security and safety measures.

Providing oversight and control over the movement of goods, aiding customs authorities in anti-smuggling and anti-counterfeiting endeavors.

Offering flexibility in supply and distribution operations, enabling companies to meet market demands efficiently.

Leading to cost savings and efficiency improvements by deferring customs duties and taxes until goods usage or distribution.

Understanding the Relationship between Customs Storage and Customs Warehouses:

Customs storage involves storing goods in designated customs areas to ensure compliance with customs regulations, while customs warehouses are the physical facilities where goods are stored, documented, and controlled under customs authorities' supervision.

In essence, customs storage is a comprehensive process encompassing storage, organization, and control of goods in customs warehouses, aimed at ensuring customs law compliance, facilitating import/export operations, and fostering smooth global trade flow.

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heartslogos · 4 years ago

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newfragile yellows [848]

“You're going to be so mad at me.”

“Hold the thought.”

Bull has to pull his phone away from his ear, close his eyes, count to thirty, and then count backwards from thirty in order to get himself under control.

This is the worst vacation he’s ever been on and he’s been actively hunted by assassins on other vacations so this is saying something. Bull would prefer the assassins to the current situation, honestly.

Ellana left to get groceries from the nearest town about three hours ago — and Bull wasn’t worried about that time gap because the nearest anything that would have a grocery store is about an hour to two hours away. She would’ve just gotten there with this weather.

No, Bull’s annoyed because he’s been snowed the fuck into their rented cabin. Lucky they’ve got Inquisition phones because these things have some serious reach. He’s been texting Josephine and Krem status updates. Josephine is appropriately sympathetic to his complaints. Aclassi’s being a total shit heel and telling him he deserves it. Bull has been mentally plotting ways to get back at the man. It’s one of the only things keeping him sane. The cabin itself isn’t exactly entertaining.

He brings the phone back to his ear. “What did you do?”

“You assume I did something,” Ellana sounds offended. “Why do you assume that I was the active party in the current situation?”

“Why would I be mad at you if you didn’t do something?”

“It’s less of what I did more and of what I’ve found myself involved in.”

“Babe, we are in the middle of fuck all nowhere, population five hundred,” Bull says. “How did you find something? Anything? You can’t even get liquor over five percent here. That’s how boring this place is.”

“Not anymore it isn’t,” Ellana replies. “I found a baby.”

“You what?”

“So I get to the supermarket. Market, really. Nothing super here. And it’s empty. Doors open. Lights are on. But the entire building is empty. No employees, no other patrons. And can I tell you? The lot? The parking lot? Not empty. The only other living creature I’ve been able to find so far is this baby that was in a shopping cart in the canned goods section.”

“Shit.”

“I know. I’m going to try and find out if they have any security footage. I’ve only seen one camera by the cash register, but from the look of the thing I might end up handling VHS. Seriously. Wood paneling on everything. This place is old.”

“Only you,” Bull says with a touch of fondness, “Only you could find trouble in a region that boasts zero crime because there’s no one to do crime here.”

“Yeah, yeah. How are things back at the cabin? No random stranger mysteriously knocking or unrecognizable shadows lingering in the distance?”

“Oh, yeah. Buy a shit ton of salt and some shovels,” Bull says. “I’ve been snowed in.”

“It was not snowing that heavy when I left.”

“No it wasn’t. But about an hour after you left a freak storm came in. I mean. Obviously it’s not too bad because the phones and our Inquisition gear still works. I’ve got the laptop up and running and I’ve been texting on the phone. See if you can send me a picture of the baby, I’ll send it in to Leliana and see if she can find any birth records.”

“Based on a picture?” Ellana sounds skeptical, but he can hear her switch to speaker as she goes to take the picture anyway.

“We’ve given Leliana less to work with before,” Bull points out. “Maybe there’s a missing person’s out for the kid. She once found a guy based only on a vague description of his body spray.”

Ellana snickers. “The look on the guy’s face when she told him only one type of person in the world would use that expensive piss to appear fancy when they really aren’t. Ha! Classic. Anything else I should get since…well. Looks like our enforced vacation is turning into one star, negative rating horror movie plot?”

“If I’ve learned anything from being forced to watch b movies from Skinner, it’s that we’re going to need a lot of rope, a lot of fuel, tons of ignition starters, and cheap vodka. I don’t think we’ll be finding the last one though. So I’ll settle for a bit of the rest.”

“You got it,” Ellana says. “How are food stores looking? Picture sent. ”

“If this is a terrible movie who knows? Better double down on that shit too.” Bull switches his phone to speaker to check his texts so he can forward the picture to Leliana and Josephine. Actually he’s just gonna throw it into group chat and see what happens.

“Right. And how am I going to handle all of this and a baby?”

“You’re Ellana Lavellan, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. See if you can find an extra generator or something like that.”

“Alright, anything else? Should I haul over a new gas range while I’m at it?”

“Maybe you should, considering we’re working with a wood burning stove,” Bull teases. “Be careful. If it looks like you can’t pass turn around and go back. I’ll be fine.”

“Right, turn around and go back to the creepy deserted grocery store. I should probably check the other buildings, but honestly I’m spooked. Just a wee bit spooked.”

“You want me to stay on the line with you?”

“Handle a baby, a back up generator, several grocery items, and have you on the phone at once? Come on, Bull, this is supposed to be a vacation not some kind of horrible training exercise. Make sure the cabin is secure and work with the rest of the Inquisition to figure out what’s going on. Make sure to tell everyone it’s not our baby. Evelyn’d have kittens if she thought we had some kind of spontaneous love baby. For someone so smart she can come up with some truly dumb conclusions when thrown a curve ball.”

#heartsfic #gather your party and venture forth

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hyatt289 · 4 years ago

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Gangnam Pool Salon

Type.1

Attempt to get your #1 decision, near your optimal kind with the Gangnam Pool Salon Magic Mirror. Table time Start with a flabbergasting talk time. Is it exact to express that you are fascinated about the association that uncovers your not-pretty body? You can encounter the enormous course of the full salon that adds more warmth 강남야구장 .

Setting: Western alcohol + blend + snacks are served unfathomably during table time.

Brief Introduction of Gangnam Pool Salon

Gangnam Full Salon Club Choice and Magic Mirror Choice NEW Lineup Meet New Face each week. The water thought of the more settled sisters is besides managed multiple times every week and 30 new faces are enlisted each week.

Why? Is it definite to express that you are searching for Gangnam Pool Salon?

On non-finish of the week days, around 70 to 90 individuals go to work a day

Up to 120 individuals go to oversee Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays on peak days

200% affirmation for clients' first and last'close care'

You are a visitor precisely at the way, and when you enter, the body is totally covered? never! Not a tiny smidgen thusly

The rule size, correct? 'Reality barring' headings without lies in any circumstance

Tolerantly endeavor to call us going before visiting, so please reach us as we plan of time.

At the Gangnam Pool Salon, the notable place purpose of karaoke, you are mindfully served to remarkable beverages, diversion, and social affairs.

We serve you with the best conditions and central focuses. Sensible cost and unlimited assistance occasion cost. It is a gigantic degree business in Gangnam zone with extreme work environments and a full salon structure open 365 days out of every year. For different social affairs, drinking parties, social gatherings, feasts, and so forth, it is critical to save a spot for Gangnam Pool Salon to get the authentic occasion cost.

Securities while utilizing the pool salon

When visiting a pool salon, there are different emotions not equal to when you have a novice's brain and when you get ability with the atmosphere at last. This is where an unfathomable assortment of individuals total. So this time, for tenderfoots, I will quickly present the things that individuals who first taste a spot called Room Salon and Pool Salon ought to be cautious. Plainly, I will unveil to you that I have in addition implied others' records.

1. Powerful shot checking (overall basic)

You should move inside the degree of your capacity. It is major to check your capacities first. It is unquestionably not an unassuming measure of cash, yet in the event that you would lean toward not to run each day and don't bounce.

2. Be educated.

In the event that you experience a practically identical extent of cash, you should go to stores with unprecedented worth/execution degree. At last, for amateurs toward the room, it is more splendid to have a semi-semi-public or semi-public level. (These are relationship with breathtaking worth execution degree). Experience the baseball field association.

3. Excusal the irreverence.

I'm paying and playing notwithstanding. Attributes are besides paid and changed. In the event that you're not doing anything you acknowledge is really horrendous, break the iron plate with some impediment and hit it. Precisely when you go to the store, we will see and serve you. The issue is, don't simply look at the records of the subject matter experts and follow them, play the way where I need to play. So

In the event that it doesn't work, I'm searching for another way. It appeared as though it was conceivable to change.

4. In the event that you are a juvenile, go with a veteran.

Go to the store and play with the amateur tea. You will have those encounters. In such a case, go with Kosubun around you (it would be better in the event that you partake in the social event) and sort out some approach to play, how to end, and the major air. This is the techniques by which you don't consider the essential fight later.

5. Take the necessary steps not to ostensibly connect with your sister.

It's not so much as a film... . Surrender the inclination with your business sister. I consider it later. Most fledglings go to a few affiliations, begin to look all optimistic at, and offer up chances and work. Anyway, the room salon is a spot to appreciate. Make a heavenly sweetheart with the time and cash to make an extraordinary love. Plainly, there are good individuals among them, in any case they can sting each other continually. One is selling associations and the other is purchasing associations. Consistently review this.

6. Find new nightlife, various types of nightlife.

Demolished water sums. Put forth an attempt not to live there considering the way that you defeated one of the day and night long sky. Have enough information for the most part. You become depleted of near side dishes each day. It is the delight when you discover one more night culture!!

7. Standard clients are decently treat?

(It very well might be, yet there are different business heads who are not ^^)

It relies on the business, regardless… . By some way or another, in the event that you get to know your face and become a regular, the possibility of association might be chopped down. The partition between an association that attempts to make a standard client startlingly and an association that generally applies to a reformist client should quiet. Thusly, rather than holding one spot, we go here and discussion about another room. Unmistakably you should finish it to the laborer or the chief, it doesn't mean anything to the more arranged sisters... . That way, you are consistently treated as another visitor. Do it well.

8. Take careful time the heads. (Pool salons are prescribed to visit occasions before 8 o'clock, at any rate before 10 o'clock and after 1 AM. Regularly, 10 PM to 1 AM is the pinnacle.)

Particularly wedded men, do you understand what I mean? Moreover, beginners… Watch when you go to the business. Any spot you go, there are dynamic occasions and torpid occasions. I would propose an extra time at whatever point conceivable. In the event that the time is past the last defining moment, the sisters in the business additionally battle with the weariness of the day. Carrot association? It will whirl exactly as expected. The best time is that the morning class begins before 8:00 or after the night class begins at 12:00... In the event that you go to this time, you will get phenomenal help. Obviously, when there aren't different clients like nowadays, I figure you can simply talk early.

9. Know your taste

Every individual has a substitute taste, so analyze and go to the recognize that suits your taste. Several people express that the average is commendable, and some express the semi-style is sufficient. Everybody dependably has their own style. Consider that style and appreciate. In addition, it clearly sees that style in your #1 records.

10. Go to a proposed business that has been genuinely checked by the baseball field association.

Inappropriate direct past your sister's significant body contact!

Welcome or Reports-When the decision is done and masterminds are doled out, the more arranged sisters welcome you. As for welcome in a room salon, a large portion of the more arranged sisters stand up independently and state "Welcome, this is XXX" and plunk down. Generally speaking you don't. (The full salon has another style.)

Drinking-Drinking starts once the welcome is finished. On the off chance that you began with a wrecked atmosphere, you need to raise the air genuinely more. The most extensively saw way is sensation. This is the condition when you request some brew and from there on interest that your more settled sisters make bomb wine. If all else fails, about piece of the alcohol is filled the alcohol glass, and a brief timeframe later the alcohol is filled the lager glass, and accordingly around 7 pieces of the blend is poured. In the wake of having a beverage with the individuals first, you can embrace a reward to your sister close by. Regardless of whether you don't give anything, the more settled sisters who are the nuts and bolts will request a beverage.

The point-you never need to go to a bar and smack your sisters. Notwithstanding, in any event you ought to be human. An immense piece of the clients are the individuals who work for the term of the day and now just need to get back, yet they are in a condition to work. In like way, since she is a lady, she has genuinely less capacity to manage liquor than men. It is obliging not to force liquor extravagantly hard. On the off chance that you do this, the intoxication will customarily rise and the messed up atmosphere will vanish.

Games-not needed. Regardless, one of the fabulous approaches to manage make an agreeable climate. We should investigate the game later. All around, I play several games, in any case the significance isn't in the game, yet in the controls applied when I lose the game. By and large, there are different events of one-shot of the plane.

Precisely when the more arranged sisters win, there are times when they call a dull knight (usually an accomplice) to drink for them, and if a similar visitor keeps winning, there is in like way a faint rose call that the associate sister drinks for her. Likewise, there are various controls, for example, kissing and leaving lip marks on the chest. There is no norm or formal request, so it is OK to make it yourself and like it. Regardless, if a lot of interest is made before the closeness between one another is formed, it will as a rule be counterproductive.

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club-roc · 4 years ago

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The C&Me Report: Dispatch # 1

Author’s Forward

This is a work of friction, the turbid spew of a diseased imagination. The characters, events, location, time of day, and yes even the fucking weather are all made up - except when they aren’t.

That the submissive in the story maybe resembles someone in my past life is a bizarre coincidence that you shouldn’t read anything into. The rumor that I may have based the - selfish? disgusting? can we settle on sick? - narrator on myself is an unfortunate misunderstanding. I am a considerate, thoughtful, kind, compassionate, altruistic, gentle, empathetic, loving soul - and I swear the wrath of a banshee working off a seven day drunk upon anyone who says different.

I hope you enjoy what I think is a novel approach to the old in-out. For those of you who prefer a more traditional 3-step narrative of the form:

boy meets girl (or whatever gender permutation gets you going)

one paragraph (preferably less)

boy fucks girl

this just ain’t gonna work for you. Seriously. But, if you choose to ignore this warning, for fuck’s sake don’t whine about it afterwards.

One final note: if you do make it to the end, and your cursor is a short click away from registering one star, you should know that the banshee gets pissed off rather easily these days - just sayin’.

Happy trails.

Roc Daimonas

Sep. 2020

* * *

I have an ethical dilemma that I’m hoping that you can help me with.

Whether you come at it from a moral or legal perspective, these days non-consensual sex is kind of frowned upon. The MeTooers are clear: she has to freely say “yes”. Sounds easy, but sometimes Easy Street is paved with potholes.

Let’s start with the seemingly obvious: “yes” doesn’t get you off the hook if you mention that you’ve got proof that could have her swinging in Sing Sing. Nor, for that matter, any persuasive argument that includes an “or else I will … “ clause. But what if it’s “or else I won’t”?

For example, you have front row tickets to the hot show that she’s dying to see. Without a promise of action for afters, you won’t take her. “Maybe (fill in her best friend’s name) is interested…?” I think we might need a new category, “technically consensual but the guy’s a douchebag”.

Also obviously, if she’s drunk, her “yes” doesn’t mean shit. But what if she’s sober, in fact hasn’t had a drink all day. And she needs one, badly, sort of the way that after holding your breath for two minutes you need air, because she’s an alcoholic. Sadly she’s broke, has nothing left to pawn, and has already been to the Plasma Donation Center twice this week. Let’s say she loves bubbly and you have a bottle of White Star on ice.

If, under those circumstances, you tell her, “no nookie no party”, you know damn well that you’re going to get laid. (Pro tip: one glass, then sex, and only then finish the bottle). You can get all moral on me, but she’s gonna do what it takes to get a drink, and if that’s by blowing somebody in the liquor store’s parking lot, oh well. I’m thinking why not me, instead of some jerk who’s gonna sub a store-brand asti?

Seriously, I’m looking for feedback, let me know what you think.

BTW, I wouldn’t trade sex for a drink, I’m not that kind of asshole, and this isn’t that kind of story. Rather, it’s actually cannabis that she wants, and I’m much worse of an asshole. You see, I’m a sex addict, sub-category control freak, and I’ve been waiting patiently for a long time.

* * *

C called, Lydia was dead. Apparently she passed out and knocked her 151 into a candle. I hadn’t heard anything from C, hence nothing about Lydia, for about five years, but this seems less like news than the fulfillment of the inevitable. Though on second thought, that she made it that long is impressive.

When she called, she was upset. Not because they were friends - nobody was friends with Lydia, she saw life as 100% transactional. No, C was upset because she was on her way to score reefer, “and I’d already given her my last $60” … could I help her?

“Sure no problem”, I told her, answered by a huge sigh of relief. “I’ve got that much cash in my wallet, come by and get it - and don’t worry about paying me back”.

Oops. Not exactly what she was fishing for. “Ah, do you have any weed that I could have?”

Long. Fucking. Silence. It’s been five years since I’d talked to her last, the day we broke up over - surprise! - her drug and alcohol problem.

“Uh, Roc…”

“Let’s do this: come over for the $60. Let’s at least get you covered on that, then you can score somewhere else. I’ll think about the other”.

A little while later she’s on my sofa, smoking a pipe. I have the cash and a small container in front of me. “This is for you”, and I hand her the bills. “You can also have this - BUT - one time only, never again. This is about a week's supply, you can score something in that time. Are we agreed - never again?”

Two things that I need to clarify - a week’s supply for me, if she’s on a roll, is probably about a 4 hour supply for her. AND - if it gets them their fix, an addict will tell you anything that they think you want to hear.

So of course, she was absolutely in agreement. Some things never change.

And surprise!, surprise!, 24 hours later, guess who knocked on my door?

* * *

C no doubt spent the day coming up with all sorts of completely sensible reasons why I should give her more shit. Most likely revolving on the fact that Lydia was the last person who would sell to her. But she’s thrown off, I have a packed pipe on the table next to me, she can’t take her eyes off the prize, she can’t focus...I just let her stammer for a minute. I ask if she wants the pipe?

Shit eating grin - hell yes! I grab it and reach out towards her. She takes it, but I don’t let go. ‘You can have this one, no problem. You want more, ‘present yourself’”. Ancient code for “submit for kinky sex”. She starts to object, I cut her off: “you can have none, one, or stand, your choice - do you understand your choices?”

Maybe she mumbles “OK”, so I let go and in no time she’s sucking down the pipe. I get a couple beers while she’s busy, set one next to her, pop the top on mine and sip some brew. Done with the pipe, she follows suit. Between the weed and the booze, she relaxes, but after a bit starts starts fidgeting. I wait for it. Finally it pours out: “I don’t think this is a good idea”

I bust out laughing, she doesn’t see what’s so funny. “You’re right, it’s an AWFUL idea, we just don’t agree on what’s the bad part. So maybe we forget about it, huh? Maybe you should just go home”.

Well, no, she doesn’t want that either…“Can’t I have some more?”

“It’s time for you to go, I’ll walk you to the door”.

She takes a deep breath, rises, and puts her hands on her head. Her arms are in the wrong position, her legs aren’t nearly far enough apart … some things never change. I pack the pipe. “You want this?”, she says yes, eyes focused. I spark the lighter and smoke it. From her face, that’s not what she had in mind.

I pack another, walk over to her. “First, if you want your fix, I get mine - is that understood?” She nods. I hold the pipe for her, spark the lighter, and long hit, all gone. She’s holding it in, deep, and I continue, “second, anytime - and I mean ANYTIME - that you feel uncomfortable giving me what I want, just say, “take that shit and shove it where the sun don’t shine”.

Suddenly the tension’s broken, she cracks up, coughs, blows out the smoke, coughs a little more. “You fuckerhead! - you owe me another!”

I smile. “We’ll see. But I’m serious. Say that phrase and everything stops.” She nods, but I’m not done. “What you gotta realize is that I don’t really want to do this”. Like Hell, but she doesn't need to know that. “You can say that anytime, BUT … once and done. No more weed. Ever”. You can tell she’s not happy about that, but keeps it to herself.

I pack another, then tell her “this is a really good time to tell me that, because if you don’t walk away, I’m going to turn you into my slave. For real.”

She’s heard that before, sarcastically says “of course you are”, tilts her head a little, mocking me with her face, her eyes.

“You heard your choices, tell me what it’s going to be”.

To get their fix, an addict is going to tell you anything they think that you want to hear.

I hand her the pipe, tell her to use the can, have a cigarette, whatever, then get undressed and back in position. “If you’re quick enough, I’ll pack another pipe”. While she’s scurrying on her assignments, I try to find some rope.

* * *

She’s back in position, but instead of being naked, she’s got my robe on - and her socks. Some things never change.

I pack a pipe, point out that she’s not quite undressed. Eyeing the pipe, she tells me “brr, it’s chilly!”, her code for gimme the pipe, and let’s go to bed and fuck. Well that ain’t gonna happen, so instead of giving it to her, I spark the lighter and smoke it myself. She has a frustrated look on her face.

“Why don’t you turn the furnace on, and relax a bit. When it’s warm enough, strip and return to position. When you’re ready, I’ll get you another pipe” She sticks out her tongue, turns up the furnace, sits, but the blower’s barely on before she’s lost the robe and is back in position. I pack the pipe full enough that even she’s gonna need a few minutes, hand it to her. While she’s working it, I look over the body that I once knew so well.

Five years of hard living has taken its toll, but she’s still a great looking lady. Tall for a woman, long torso and average legs, she’s blonde, slender, tits in damn nice shape (hey - we’re all getting older, things ain’t the way they used to be, nothing’s wrong with that, but it doesn’t mean I can’t notice tits that gravity hasn’t found yet.)

She’s set down the pipe so apparently she’s done. I walk behind her, tell her to cross her wrists, which she does it the wrong way - surprise! - which I correct, wrap the rope and tie it securely. My feet push her legs further apart, I grab her hair and pull her backwards so she’s a little past the tipping point, take my free hand and caress her face, my lips find hers...

Our lips and tongues play as my hand finds its way to her breast, stroking the one, squeezing it, finding the nipple, pulling, twisting, back to main tittie and fondle some more, soon the other tit has my attention and it’s on to part deux. Mission accomplished, my hand returns to her forehead, another cycle begins, this one ending at her navel.

A couple more cycles and she’s kissing like she’ll die if something doesn’t happen, finally my hand finds her pussy, palpable heat rising from it...I touch it, she’s dripping wet ...fingers on either side of the clit, squeeze, the clitteral bud, engorged, twitches under the pressure, again and again.... She moans past our kisses, I slide the fingers in her slot…

Out again, slick as can be, fingers strum her clit, right-left right-left right-right-left, the moan does not diminish, she’s begging me to fuck her…but the control freak in me is not ready yet, I play some more…My fingers find her snatch again and I jam them in, fast, over and over...the moan is lower as the orgasm has begun, her voice up and down as the O takes control…

Fingers out but the O continues, I strum her clit, her abs are so tight and she’s over the top again….suddenly I slap her oh so exposed pussy a half dozen times, her O just fucking explodes, she shrieks loud enough to wake a passed out banshee …

I set her down, exhausted. I get ice water, give her a sip, she didn’t realize how thirsty she was. I ask if she wants a smoke, or a fuck? She perks up at fuck, “oh yes please fuck me, I am sooo horny”, so arms released, into the bedroom, onto the bed, a pillow under her ass…

I pull down my pants, off with my shorts, oh my I thought it was hard but this is impressive, it would a crime to lose this boner, and C is looking at it, can’t take her eyes off it, wants it, inside, so I climb onto her, give her pussy what it needs more than anything….

No more fooling around, dick slams into cervix and her abdomen erupts, instant orgasm, cunt even hotter and squeezing tight, won’t let go… I get an urgent message, dick to control center, situation critical, too much pressure, heat, we can’t take much more of this, we’re going to have to unload…

No. I’m not in high school anymore, this doesn’t have to happen. I pull the dick out, pre-cum dripping, trailing, C figures out something’s not quite right, OH NO PLEASE DON’T STOP PLEASE FUCK ME...and I jam it in, thrust as fast and hard as I can, she goes fucking nuts, my dick does the impossible, gets bigger, harder, and it’s that way with each thrust, reactors are critical, pumps overloaded, Captain she’s gonna blow!, and unlike on TV that’s what happens, hot jizz spews into eager pussy and can you say “supernova”? Of course she can, but not now, not enough energy, ambition left to talk. For the first time in five years, we embrace.

As usual, she’s out of bed first, runs to the john, back to me, hugs me...I wonder what she’s going to compliment first, after all it was a stellar performance...I figure she’s going to ask me to slap her pussy again next time...

“Can I have another beer and a pipe?”

Some things never change.

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navjeevancenter-blog · 6 years ago

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7 Tips for Family members to Stop Enabling an Alcohol Addict

If your loved one is an alcohol addict, you would probably hear that you might be an enabler.

Navjeevan is a rehab center, which not only helps alcoholics but also addresses the roles played by their loved ones in actually enabling that behavior.

How would you know if you are being an enabler or whatever you are doing for them is normal helping? How can you stop if you are being an enabler?

First, let us understand the difference between enabling and helping.

Supporting or helping means assisting the addict with things that they are incapable of doing for themselves or doing things that could help them gain control of their life.

Enabling, on the other hand, helps the addict to deal with the negative consequences of their actions. Not dealing with these consequences puts the impression that their behavior is somewhere acceptable.

Navjeevan is a Rehabilitation center (Nasha Mukti Kendra) in Patiala (Punjab) that helps addictive individuals overcome compulsive alcohol or drug abuse.

How to Stop Enabling an Alcoholic

At this point, you might realize that you have been enabling your loved one with alcoholism.

It is true that we cannot change people but we can change our behaviors towards those people and stop being an enabler.

Take note of the given points:

Stop Doing Anything That Allows the Alcoholic to Continue Their Current Lifestyle

Are you paying some of the bills that your alcoholic loved one would be paying if he hadn't lost his job due to drinking? Are you providing him/her food and shelter?

If yes, you could be enabling. You are providing him/her with security that nothing would affect even if they chose not to work and spend their time being an alcoholic.

Stop Making Excuses for the Alcoholic

Have you ever lied and said, "Sorry, he can't come to work today, he's has picked up some kind of flu." When the truth was he was too hung-over to go to work.

This conversation is enabling because it is allowing the alcoholic to escape the consequences of his actions. Losing his job might just be the right thing that needs to happen to him.

Do Not Take on Responsibilities That Rightfully Belong to the Alcoholic

Are you doing some chores around the house that the alcoholic used to do? Have you taken on their responsibilities as well?

If you are doing things that the alcoholic would be doing if he/she was sober, in a way you are enabling them to avoid their responsibilities.

Do Not Give or Loan Money

If you are offering money to the alcoholic for any reason, you might as well go into the liquor store and buy his booze for him—that’s what you are doing by providing him money.

No matter what they say they would do with the cash. This behavior is enabling in every sense.

Do Not Scold, Plead, or Argue With the Alcoholic

Scolding the alcoholic is another enabling behavior.

This would simply create differences and the alcoholic would shun the doors of communication.

Such a situation sometimes triggers the addictive behavior, as alcohol is the route to curing pain, anxiety, and aggression for an addict.

Never Drink With the Alcoholic

Family members often feel abandoned by the alcoholic because of their affair with alcohol.

At times, they try to become a part of their world by drinking with them—thinking that this would initiate a conversation and finally the addict would try to open his/her feelings & maybe they would convince them to stop drinking.

However, this rarely works. Their relationship with alcohol is very powerful.

Set Boundaries—Don’t Threat

"If you don't stop drinking, I will leave!" is a threat, but saying, "I will not have drinking in my home" is more like setting a boundary.

You can't force someone to quit drinking, but you can surely decide what kind of behavior you will accept or not accept in your home.

Final Thoughts

Take some time and learn more about enabling and alcoholism with Navjeevan. It would help you feel empowered as you stop enabling your loved one while trying to help them.

You do have the power to set boundaries so to put an impact on the alcoholic. Navjeevan offers therapies for substance and alcohol abuse. Families could collect information on the offered therapies at http://navjeevancentre.com/.

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marcolinia · 3 years ago

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Ways to make do with leftover perfumes

Your scent has gone off and you are feeling like a complete misuse of cash? Quit stressing as there are a great deal of routes through which you can make your terminated aroma helpful and I have accompanied some valuable tips that will make the lapsed scent valuable for you in another manners.

Try not to discard your number one aroma after the expiry date, rather use it in the accompanying ways.

Eliminate your nail paint

The liquor in scent makes it exceptionally valuable for eliminating nail clean, it makes the particles in nail clean lose its tone and fall off without any problem. In case you're out of nail clean remover, essentially apply a little terminated fragrance over the nail paint and eliminate it with the assistance of a cotton ball.

Clean the claviature

Terminated scents can likewise be utilized to clean keyboard proficiently on account of the presence of liquor also. The liquor viably eliminates the soil amassed between the keys and edges and can work similarly just as a console cleaner arrangement.

Make sure the mirrors are spotless.

Notice your mirror looking somewhat messy? Get a lapsed fragrance with high liquor content, shower a tad bit of it on the mirror, and afterward clean it with a clammy, delicate towel. The lapsed scent can viably clean your mirror without abandoning any stains or streaks and is a superior (and ostensibly more secure!) choice than glass cleaners and dye.

Splashing mix water in your space

Some terminated aromas don't change the smell, however they are unsafe whenever splashed over the body. Utilize the lapsed fragrances as a room splash to keep your rooms smelling new consistently. In spite of the fact that it doesn't keep going for extended periods, they can endure as long as 6 hours which is one of the stunning employments of terminated scents.

On shoes

You can splash aroma on the shoes and afterward wear them. This will assist with controlling the sharp smell from delivering out. Additionally, on the off chance that you don't encounter a stinky feet issue, you can generally keep your shoes smelling new by utilizing this strategy.

Marcolinia is one of the greatest places to buy original Perfumes in Dubai if you're seeking for them online. Original Branded Perfumes & Fragrances are available online, in our store, and via our Android app. find a wide range of branded fragrances and colognes for women and men at the Marcolinia perfume online in Dubai.

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 4 years ago

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“Toronto Broker Fined $4,000, Jailed In Exchange Case,” Toronto Star. March 28, 1941. Page 44. ----- ‘Tantamount to Smuggling,’ Says Cadi Sentencing Andrew Dand ---- HINDER WAR EFFORT ---- ‘D’ Police Court at the City Hall, Magistrate Gullen ‘You will be fined $4,000 or 18 months and in addition you will go to jail for one month,’ so Magistrate F. C. Gullen told Andrew Dand, Toronto broker. He appeared for sentence on charges of exporting and importing securities and cash between Canada and the United States, contrary to regulations of foreign exchange control board.

The accused imported and exported securities and cash on a large scale, without a permit. ‘It is tantamount to smuggling and the transactions ran into thousands of dollars and this practice does hinder our war effort,’ his worship stated.

‘It is a serious charge and brokers must be careful. The only way to stop it, is to impose a reasonably severe sentence,’ remarked J. Bobinette, special crown prosecutor.

‘I agree my client should have been more careful. He is a broker and all he made out of the transactions was commissions,’ ssaid T. B. Horkins, defence counsel.

Evidence heard last week showed accused exported and imported securities over a period of 10 months, J. M. Fell, inspector, stated the imports in U.S. funds were valued at $175,297 and in Canadian funds, $249.567. The gross profit being $74,270.’ ‘Je lost $23,000 on exports, leaving a net profit in Canadian money of $51,000,’ he said.

Mr. Horkins stated the real culprit was the broker with whom his client worked in Detroit. ‘He is he one who made most of the money,’ counsel concluded.

‘This section of the city is becoming almost a menace,’ said the magistrate, in the case of Ben Wong, manager of an Elizabeth St. restaurant. He pleaded guilty of having liquor illegally in the cafe.

‘There is too much of this in this section of the city, remarked Crown Attorney Bolins.

‘That may be so, but do not take it out on my client,’ said Mr. Horkins, defence counsel. Wong was fined $200 and costs or one month.

Two Chinese Fined Provincial Constables James Bartlett and A. Shaughnessy said they visited the restaurant yesterday. ‘I asked him if he had any liquor and he said he had none,’ testified Bartlett. ‘In a hide we found four part bottles of liquor. His permit since June 24 showed purchases of $700,’ the officer said.

Entering the Elizabeth St. store of Fo Wah, Shaughnessy and Bartlett said they seized 2 bottles of liquor. Wah was taken in for having illegally pleaded guilty, and was fined $200 and costs or one month.

Shaughnessy said accused’s permit showed purchases of $458 from August last. ‘Far too much liquor on business premises,’ remarked Magistrate Gullen.

William G. Foster pleaded guilty of careless driving after a collision on St. Clair Ave. W., early today.

‘He had been drinking and was not in a fit condition to drive,’ said P.C. Percy Fleming. Accused said he had just arrived from Saskatchewan with a load of horses and had just taken delivery of a new car in Oshawa. ‘I am a car dealer,’ he added.

‘We take horses in on cars and bring the horses down here to sell. It’s kind of different driving down here than on the prairies. We have more room out there,’ said Foster. He was fined $25 and costs or 15 days.

Sent to Trial in Car Death Frank Griffiths was charged with dangerous driving on University Ave., March 21, in connection with the death of John Edward Erwing. Crown Attorney Norman Borins announced his intention of porceeding by indictment.

Accused, through Defence Counsel Frank Callaghan, elected summary trial.

Miss B. Steer said she saw a man walking north on the roadway a short distance from the curb. ‘I saw a car coming and I said to my sister. ‘Look! That man is going to get hit!’

A moment later she heard ‘the smack’ and saw the man lying on the roadway. fter about 20 minutes the man was removed in an ambulance, she said.

‘On the evidence of Miss Steer there is evidence the driver of the car failed to keep a proper look out,’ said Mr. Borins.

‘It would appear there was a clear line of vision for the driver,’ said Magistrate Gullen.

‘There is no evidence of speed, no evidence of carelessness. It was at night,’ said Mr. Callaghan. ‘There is evidence of civil negligence - yes, but not criminal.’

John Neal, police automotive expert, said he found blood 20 feet from the curb, and headlight glass 30 feet south, and in the middle of the street. It did not appear conceivable the blood and glass could have been connected with the same accident,’ said the officer. Brakes horses, lights and steering-gear were in good order, he added.

He found no skid marks, he said. This was an indication that speed was moderated, he admitted.

‘He insisted the man stepped out from behind a parked car and gave him no opportunity,’ Neal said of accused. This, he added, was not consistent with the pool of blood 20 feet from the curb.

‘Liability should be determined by a higher court,’ said Magistrate Gullen.

Mr. Callaghan contended more witnesses should be called so the crown put Alfred Vout in the box.

Mr. Vout said he was driving behind Griffiths at 25 miles an hour and saw the latter stop suddenly. Witness said accused was driving five feet out from cars parked at the curb.

‘Now the case is stronger,’ said Mr. Borins. ‘The man is driving 25 miles an hour with good brakes and should have seen him and stopped.’

Magistrate Gullen finally decided to send the case on for trial. ---- 60 DAYS EACH FOR TRIO --- ‘A’ Police Court at the City Hall, Judge O’Connell. Sankey Hiltz, John Izett, and George Moffatt, stood outside a Queen St. E. store, and when one of them grabbed a windbreaker form the display rack, all three ran away together, Harry Cooper owner, testified.

Det. Charles Martin, who investigated, said he found Hilltz carrying the windbreaker under his coat. Judge O’Connell convicted all three on a joint charge of theft, and sentenced each to 60 days.

Leo. William, Edward and Walter Mazda each faced a charge of theft and another of receiving. The crown’s request for a remand to April 4 was granted and each gave surety bail of $500.

Murray McLaughlin, who pleaded guilty of stealing four pairs of binoculars and eight pairs of sunglasses, was sentenced to four months in jail.

‘Accused was employed as a messenger by an optical company,’ Det. James Crone said. ‘When he was going out to deliver legitimate messages he would take some of those articles with him,’ he testified.

According to Crown Counsel Fred Malone, accused had several previous convictions for theft and shopbreaking. Charge Misrepresentation Facing a charge of obtaining merchandise worth $799 from a plumbing supply form on Elizabeth St., by false pretences, John Pinneo was committed for trial.

Abraham Silverberg, stated that last September, accused, representing himself as Staff Captain John Pinneo of the barracks at London, Ont., had ordered a boiler, which was delivered by transport to an address in London.

Morris Silverberg, a partner, stated Pinneo had ordered other merchandise by long-distance telephone, including radiators, piping, and various fittings, on various dates up until Dec. 9, all of which were shipped to London.

‘What is the false representation that is alleged?’ asked the court.

‘The representation that he was purchasing goods for the army,’ replied Mr. Malone.

‘I finally located the accused at Aylmer,’ Morris Silverberg continued. ‘He told me everything had been used on his own private jobs. We later found the address in London to which the goods were shipped was not a barracks but a private home. When I saw him Aylmer he was in civilian clothes.’

#toronto #police court #importer exporter #securities fraud #illegal sale of alcohol #selling alcohol without license #chinese restaurant #shopbreaking #false pretences #shoplifting #car crash #drunk driving #fines or jail #sentenced to prison #ontario reformatory #toronto jail farm #canada during world war 2 #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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kenfichtler4-blog · 4 years ago

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Is MetaMask a safe wallet?

MetaMask doesn't control any of your own/private information on our workers. Everything is scrambled on your program and ensured through your MetaMask secret word. Thus, when you lose your MetaMask records, and need to reestablish MetaMask, you could just do that with your seed expression.

MetaMask at any point been hacked

it has been dropped and supplanted to another record, and than another exchange has been begun from my metamask wallett, with the remainder of my ether. Sorry to learn that this happened to you Janos.

MetaMask store Bitcoin

Metamask is an Ethereum Wallet, utilized as chrome expansions used to store the ether coins and token dependent on Ethereum stage eg, EC20. We can't store BTC in this. There are a lot of different wallets for BTC .

Uniswap so well known

Coin guarantors and merchants are rushing to Uniswap on the grounds that it's the favored stage for crypto methodologies, for example, yield cultivating, where a few brokers are acknowledging triple-digit returns by pooling and loaning cryptographic forms of money in return for revenue and expenses, while likewise regularly being granted extra coins as impetuses What are NFTs

Uniswap safe

Is exchanging on Uniswap safe? Uniswap is a decentralized trade empowering exchanging between self-custodied wallets. Since the trade comes up short on a request book and doesn't hold resources, it is amazingly secure compared to conventional trades.

Might I diminish my Uniswap charge

Another method of diminishing charges on Uniswap and different trades is to utilize Wrapped Ether (wETH) straightforwardly while trading tokens for ETH. All exchanges on Uniswap are directed with ERC-20 tokens, which implies that exchanges going through an ETH-based pair include wrapping the ETH and getting wETH simultaneously.

Ether in the 5 components

The component ether, called "akasha" in Sanskrit is the first of the five incredible components (pancha mahabhutus). It starts things out on the grounds that it is the most inconspicuous of the components. Regularly alluded to as "space," it is the substance of vacancy. It is the space different components fill.

Ether a liquor

Ethers are comparable in design to alcohols, and the two ethers and alcohols are comparative in construction to water. In a liquor one hydrogen iota of a water particle is supplanted by an alkyl gathering, though in an ether both hydrogen molecules are supplanted by alkyl or aryl gatherings.

The following Bitcoin

It's called ADA, and it is the local badge of the Cardano blockchain (a comparable innovation to Bitcoin, where all exchanges are recorded on a solitary record). Similar as other cryptographic forms of money, any client anyplace on the planet can utilize ADA as a protected trade of significant worth.

You be able to bring in cash in Decentraland

Decentraland unquestionably makes that a chance. Creating is the conspicuous one however on the off chance that you can construct a site that has a lot of Decentraland explicit formats for individuals that need particular sorts of houses and structures they can purchase and quickly transfer onto their bundle, you can bring in some cash!

Amount does land cost in Decentraland

As indicated by this month $647,527.55 USD was spent on 535 LAND bundles, with the normal LAND cost being $1,210.33 USD. Despite the fact that each package of LAND is indistinguishable fit as a fiddle and size, the record for a solitary Decentraland land bundle deal is more than $150,000 USD and the base cost is under $200 USD.

https://www.bankdeets.com/financial-info-blog/what-are-nfts-and-how-can-you-invest-in-them

#NFTs #Learn about NFTs #buy nfts #What are NFTs #why invest in nfts #What makes NFTs valuable #what is an nft

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incorrigibletenderness · 6 years ago

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You, Disappearing by Alexandra Kleeman

When I went downstairs this morning and found Cookie missing, I knew that official emergency procedure called for me to phone all the information in to the Bureau of Disappearances. At the prompting of the prerecorded voice, I would enter my social security number and zip code. I would press “2” to report the sudden absence of an animal, “3” for “domestic animal,” and then at the sound of the tone I would speak the word “cat” clearly and audibly into the telephone receiver. The woman’s voice would then give a short parametric definition of a cat, and if this definition matched my missing item, I could press the pound sign to record a fifteen-second description. A three-note melody would let me know that my claim had been filed, and then that lovely prerecorded voice would read out my assigned case number, along with some instructions on how to update or cancel my claim.

Instead, I picked up the phone and pushed your number into it. I was always telling you about problems you couldn’t fix, as though multiplying badness could dilute it.

“Cookie’s gone,” I said, and waited for your response.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Have you phoned it in?” you asked. Your voice was casual, like it was someone else’s pet entirely, a pet from a faraway land owned by people we’d never meet.

“I didn’t,” I said. “I’m kind of depressed,” I added. I was often depressed, but now we all had better reasons to be.

“I’m sorry,” you said back.

“Cookie loved to chew on wires,” I said.

“I know,” you said. You didn’t say you wished you could be here. I didn’t say it either.

There was nothing more to say. I hung up the phone. Sometimes I dialed you back right away just to hear you pick up and know that your hands were, at that very moment, resting on a chunk of plastic that threaded its way delicately to me over hundreds of miles of wire and cord. To know that even though your voice had disappeared, you had not yet. But recently I hadn’t been allowing myself any callbacks. I was getting more afraid of the day when you wouldn’t pick up.

* * *

The apocalypse was quiet. It had a way about it, a certain charm. It could be called graceful. It was taking a long time.

People prepared for an apocalypse that they could take up arms against, bunker down with. People hoarded filtered water, canned corn, dry milk, batteries. They published books on how to get things done in the new post-world, a world that they always imagined as being much like our own, only missing one or two key things. They might imagine, for example, that survivors would reemerge onto a planet stripped of all vegetable and plant life. First, the animals would grow vicious and then starve. It would be important to hoard as many of these animals as possible, pack them in salt and hide them away to keep. You’d want to have a supply of emergency seed to grow in a secure location, maybe using sterilized soil that you had already hoarded. Then you’d want to gather a crew. One muscleman with a heart of gold, a scientist type, an engineer, a child, and somebody that you thought maybe you could love, if you survived long enough to love them.

Nobody thought the apocalypse would be so polite and quirky. Things just popped out of existence, like they had forgotten all about themselves. Now when you misplaced your keys, you didn’t go looking for them. Maybe you went to your landlord and asked for the spare set, took them to the hardware store and made two copies this time, an extra in case the disappearing wasn’t a one-off but part of a trend. Or maybe you took this as a sign and decided to leave instead, walked out directionless into the world to find your own vanishing point, which meant moving to Chicago to stay with your brother, who still had the keys to his house and a spare set to give to you.

It was cute the way this apocalypse zapped things out of existence, one by one. It was so clean and easy, like clicking on a little box to close an Internet browser window. It had a sense of humor: a fat man walking down the street lined with small abandoned shops would look down and find that his trousers had vanished, baring his out-of-season Halloween boxers to the public. That kind of humor.

Videos of things like this used to show up all the time on the Internet, until the Internet went.

* * *

I thought I would visit the Ferris wheel at the pier before it vanished. I didn’t know when it would go. I had the idea that I could try to be the last person ever to visit it, but that would require a lot of work, a lot of waiting around and watching, and there were things to do even in the time of last things. I put two apples in a plastic bag and headed out the door, which I didn’t lock even though it would have been easy to do. I took the elevator down to the first floor and walked on East Jackson Drive to the edge of the water, then up along the highway holding onto the handrail with one gloved hand. A sedan full of teenagers drove by, and one of them shouted a blurry word at me that sounded like it had once been a taunt. It was winter, but it wasn’t so cold. There was less weather, the same way there was less of everything. This day resembled the day before: sleepy air and wan blue sky, no clouds but a vague foggy white that might just have been a thinning of the atmosphere.

At the pier I saw the seagulls huddling together on the boardwalk, pressing their dirty white bodies up against each other. They seemed able to eat anything—crusts, rinds, paper napkins. They were made to survive, even in a fading world that was unthinking itself faster than we could fill it back up with our trash. One seagull worked to swallow a little plastic toy lion, snapping its beak down on it with blunt patience. The Ferris wheel loomed up big behind them at the end of the pier, though it wasn’t as big as it had seemed the first time I saw it. The wheel was missing spokes at random, and some of the red seating cars had gone. It looked like the mouth of someone who had been punched over and over again in the face.

I walked over to it, right out in the open, but nobody saw me. When I reached the base the controls were all locked up. It had a big goofy lever that you could set to different speeds, like in a cartoon. I ducked the chain and climbed into the ground-level car, the one in starting position, and staggered from one side of the car to the other to try to make it swing, but it wasn’t any fun. Then I sat facing the water and put down the guardrail. The lake licked at the shore the way it used to. When water disappears, other water rushes in right away to take its place, you never see any kind of hole or gap. Then when I reached into my plastic bag, I only had one apple.

This apocalypse disappears objects of all kinds, and it swallows memories whole too. I didn’t want to be around you when you forgot me. I didn’t want to watch it fall out of your head so easily, I was hoping to forget you first. But sometimes I second-guessed that. Then I called you and tried to be angry, as though you were the one who had been so afraid of being forgotten that you needed to move out of the apartment, out of the city and into another city where nothing had any familiarity to start with, or any familiarity to lose. I thought you might have forgotten who did what to whom, but you haven’t yet.

* * *

When the first things began to disappear it had looked funny, like a continuity slip-up in a bad movie. You and I would make sound effects for them, shouting “poof!” or “boink!” as some flowers blinked themselves out of existence. This was how we’d make each other laugh. In those days the world still looked full, even though it was emptying fast. Then too many things vanished to keep making the sounds: we saw it was sad that anything in the world had gone and could not return. You joked around, saying there’d be fewer chores, our lives would clean up after themselves for a change, but still you went on doing the dishes, vacuuming the little spaces around and under the furniture, putting on a fresh shirt every day, making the bed. You folded cups out of paper for us to drink from when the glasses went away, and when the paper went you used the nice cloth napkins, which worked badly. You were the sort of person that keeps it all going, and I was the other kind.

This became clear two weeks after the first vanishings, when the news stations named it “The Disappocalypse.” On the day they called it irreversible, I walked out of the office just before lunch. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going, I didn’t reply to the e-mails asking whether we wanted to cancel our health insurance and cash out retirement plans. I knew I wouldn’t be coming back. The subway was shut down so I walked all the way to our apartment on Myrtle Avenue, across the Brooklyn Bridge to the Flatbush Extension. On that day the world still felt crowded. The sky above was pure undiluted blue, thick enough to mask how much emptiness lay behind it, out past the atmosphere. Cars were lined up on the bridge, bumper to bumper. Drivers honked sporadically, without aggression, like migrating geese.

When I got home it was late afternoon and you’d be back by six-thirty. I tried reading the newspaper but I’d read all I could stand about the vanishing, and the other sections had been thinning out, some with blank patches nobody bothered to fill where the color of the paper showed through grayish and soft. Then it was seven-thirty, and eight, and still you weren’t around. I gave Cookie her dry food and refilled her water. I started crying and stopped again and then dragged eyeliner back over my lids so that I looked the way I had before. When you showed up it was close to nine, and you smelled normal: no sweat, no cigarettes, no liquor. Where had you been? You had been working late. Hadn’t you heard? They said “irreversible,” “imminent,” “end of days.” They used those words.

I put wet marks into your shirt as you held me. Then when I pulled away your chest looked back at me with two blurry eyes.

“Why did you do that?” I asked. “Why were you away so long?”

“I was working,” you said. “A lot of people have left, you know that. Toby and Marianne and all of the interns. We’re understaffed. I’m on two new building projects.” Your back was warm and real under my hands.

“There’s nothing to build,” I said. “The world is going.”

“I know that,” you replied. “But there isn’t anything we can do about it.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” I said.

I looked at you looking at me. I heard that we were saying the same thing, though I didn’t understand how it was possible for us to mean it so differently. Later that night I asked you to quit your job too, stay home with me during the days. We could get survival-ready, rent a garden-level apartment with barricadeable windows. We could walk around all day getting to know the things that wouldn’t be there for much longer. But you wouldn’t. You liked being an architect. You said it would make you happy to have added even one thing to a world now headed for total subtraction.

* * *

The walking path next to the highway passed under a bridge. In the cool dark beneath was a bench facing onto some empty lot full of broken glass from bottles that people had thrown, just because. When sunlight hit the broken pieces, the ground lit up like a reverse chandelier, a glittering patch of green and white. Now there was less each time I walked by. Also, no bench. I stood there facing the glass, eating my last apple.

There had been times when I thought I might be with you indefinitely, something approaching an entire life. But then when there was only a finite amount of time, a thing we could see the limit of, I wasn’t so sure. I didn’t know how to use a unit of time like this, too long for a game of chess or a movie but so much shorter than we had imagined. It felt like one of those days when we woke up too late for breakfast and lay in bed until it was too late for lunch. Those days made me nervous. On those days we fought about how to use our time. You didn’t want to live your life under pressure, as though we’d run out, as though it were the last days. I’m not ill, you said. We aren’t dying, we don’t have cancer, you said. So I don’t want to live like we do, you said. There are two kinds of people, and one of them will give up first.

When we fought, you got over it first. I’d watch you from the kitchen, through a rectangular space cut into the wall, and I could see you studying the newspaper, ducking your head down to read small details in the photographs. I saw how gracefully you fell back into whatever article you had been reading before. Even then I knew: whatever hollow I made in you if I left would heal up like a hole sunk into water, quick as water rushing to fill some passing wound.

This far from the pier I could still hear the seagulls fighting over scraps, crying out with their harsh voices. Sounds carried further these days, tearing through the thin air like a stone thrown as hard as you can toward the sea. The bitten-down apple core wettened my right-hand glove, while with the other hand I pressed on the bridge of my nose. There are two kinds of people: one will only weep when the possibility exists, however remote, that someone will hear them. I put the core of the apple down on the ground and looked at it. Poof, I said. I waited for something to happen. Then I went and walked back up the path toward the high-rise.

When I got home I collected all of Cookie’s toys, her food bowl and water bowl, the little purple ball with a bell in it, the stuffed squeaking duck that was almost her size. I lined them all up on the mantle in the living room so that I could watch them disappear, one after the other.

* * *

Was the disappearing growing faster every day? No. Was it moving geographically from west to east, or east to west? Was it vanishing the world alphabetically, taxonomically, or in chronological order? It wasn’t. As hard as we tried to understand it, there didn’t seem to be much order to the disappearing at all. A week would go by with everything pretty much in its proper place, and then all of a sudden there was no such thing as magazines, not in your home or anyone else’s, and nobody to bother making new ones. Did it work its way down from the biggest things to the smallest? Was there a plan? When you were in the right mood, when you were too tired to care much, it was beautiful—like watching the house across the street as someone walked through it turning each of the lights off in order, one by one, for the night.

I sat on the floor of my brother’s empty living room and ate four chocolate-chip granola bars in a row. I had already called you once today, but I was working on a reason to call you again. Experts suggested that the things disappearing most quickly now might be intangible, metaphysical: concepts, memories, and modes of thought were just as vulnerable to erasure, they said, though they couldn’t give any concrete examples. I thought I’d better call you to see if you still remembered that Cookie had gone.

I pushed the buttons in order. It rang twice, and then I heard you.

“Hello?” you said.

“It’s me,” I said.

“It’s you,” you said back to me.

“I just wanted to call to see if you still remembered Cookie,” I said.

“Of course I still remember Cookie,” you said.

There was silence on both our ends, a blur of static on the line between us.

“What do you remember?” I asked.

“I remember that you picked her because she bit you,” you said, “and you decided it was important that you win this one animal over. I remember you didn’t know how to hold a cat at the beginning so you grabbed her just anywhere. You grabbed her in the middle and tried to pick her up that way. You got bit a lot,” you added.

“I have your number memorized,” I said.

“That’s good,” you said.

And I said I should let you go, and you said goodnight, and we hung up on each other.

I missed you more now than I had when I lost you. I was forgetting the bad things faster than I forgot the good, and the changing ratio felt a little bit like falling in love even though I was actually speaking to you less and less. I used to play a game I called “Are We Going To Make It?” You were playing too, whether you knew it or not. It worked like this: you’d forget that we were going to see the movie together and you’d go by yourself instead or with a friend, while I waited at home. Or you’d stay at work until four in the morning and forget to charge your phone, and you’d wake me up on the couch where I had fallen asleep trying to stay up for you. Then I would ask myself: Are We Going To Make It? And the next thing, whatever thing you did next, would become the answer, a murky thing that I’d study until I was too tired to think about it anymore.

An “independent physicist” living in Arizona had become famous for his theories on how the Disappearing might be a sort of existential illusion, analogous to an optical illusion. He said the fact that we still remember what’s been taken and can picture it in our minds is proof that it still exists. It’s like how you only see the duck or the bunny at a given moment, never both, he said. Only imagine that instead of knowing the bunny exists alongside your experience of the duck, you believe that it’s been irrevocably lost. It’s all about vantage point, he said, temporal vantage point: the way you might lose sight of your house when you drive away from it, but find it again when you look for it from the top of a hill. To think your house was lost, he said, would be loony. Disappeared things were like this, he said, coexistent but obscured in time. This was his theory of spatiotemporal obstruction. Those who believed in it believed that there was one special place that offered temporal “higher ground.” They made pilgrimages to a particular beach in Normandy where the cliffs were chalky white, the color of doves, and where it was rumored that recently disappeared things sometimes reappeared, soft-edged and worn and looking thirty or forty years older. In 1759, a twelve-year-old girl was said to have drowned herself there to avoid marriage to a much older man.

I sat on the floor and put the granola bar wrappers in a plastic bag. I put the plastic bag inside another plastic bag. Plastic bags were disappearing too, but my brother had had so many of them to begin with. Then I picked up the phone to call you back. I put your number in from memory.

Instead of you, I heard an error song and a recorded voice telling me my call could not be completed.

I dialed the Bureau of Disappearances. At the prompt, I pressed “1” for “person,” then “1” again for “male.” I pressed “3” to indicate “age twenty-one to thirty.” Then I was supposed to press “3” for “friend,” but instead I pressed “2” for “lover or significant other.” I hoped you wouldn’t mind. The beautiful female voice declared you a “male lover between the ages of twenty-one and thirty” and asked if that was correct. I pressed the pound key and then I described you.

* * *

I remember it was a bright morning in the fall and I woke onto your face looking in on mine. Some mornings when we woke together we pretended that one of us had forgotten who the other was. One of us had become an amnesiac. That one would ask: Who are you? Where am I? and it was the other’s job to make up a new story. A good story was long, and the best stories could make me feel like I had gotten a whole second life, a bonus one. Yellow leaves outside the window threw yellowish light on the sheets as you told me not to worry. I was safe, I was with you. We had been living together since grad school, we met on the hottest day of the year, near the gondolas in the middle of the park. We were sitting on benches facing the pond and eating the same kind of sandwich, turkey and swiss in a spinach wrap.

“But that’s what actually happened,” I said.

“I know,” you said, making a fake guilty face.

In the fall afternoon, leaves fell off whenever they fell off: it didn’t depend on their color or weight or the force of the wind outdoors.

You added: “I just couldn’t think of anything.”

The disappearing when it started happening was everywhere, subtly, it hung on our days the way a specific hour does on a moment, dragging it down and reminding you of how much time you’ve let pass. It was a flavor you woke up with in your mouth, like the taste of blood on a dry winter morning. This made leaving easier in the moments before I had realized what I was planning to do. I stood outside of our building with no keys and I was calling you over and over on the cell phone even though I knew you were at work. Each time I got your voicemail I imagined that you had vanished, until one time I imagined that you had vanished and I didn’t feel any way about it. It was like I had disappeared. I saw the things continuing without me, and I didn’t mind. I went to the ATM on the corner and pulled everything out of my checking account. Checking accounts were still around then, existing invisibly somewhere. Possibly they exist still, even though the banks went. I took the cash and our car and got on the highway, driving on I-80 west toward Chicago. If it hadn’t been the End of Days would we still be together? The most difficult thing about leaving you was discovering that I went on: that I had to be there sixteen hours a day watching myself live my own life, that I had to stay near myself all the time as I asked myself question after question, that I had to sit there in my body and watch the phone ring over and over next to me that night, after you had gotten home.

After the announcement, people did one of two things. Either they tried to care more, or they tried caring less. They decided to survive, to collect and hide and ration, or they decided to let the amount of time left in their lives work away at them. They tried to grow vegetables in their small backyards or they let the yard get overgrown, falling asleep drunk in the afternoon on a lawn chair encircled by weeds. For a while we did whatever we had chosen with dedication. But it was difficult to stay dedicated for more than a few weeks and eventually we middled, caring about things sloppily and in spurts. We poked at the dirt and then fell asleep feeling that we should have done more or maybe less. In the end, there was only one kind of person.

* * *

In the master bedroom I turned down the sheets. My brother wouldn’t be back again, but I made the bed every day to be a good guest. I made it the hotel way, everything tucked in, the sheets stretched tight across the mattress and leaving no room to shift or wrinkle. Sleeping in it meant that you had to tear it apart. I yanked the pillows out from underneath the blankets, pulled the sheets down to the foot of the bed, let the comforter fall to the floor. Then I climbed in.

I have one of the last working phones, I said aloud.

I had started sleeping with the lights on: I wanted more minutes of seeing, more things I could see if I happened to open my eyes. Outside the window there was snow falling, falling like movie snow, all the dreamy fluffy bits drifting around in the light of a single streetlamp. I wished that I loved the woman on the Disappearance hotline so that I could call and hear her voice anytime I wanted, and feel that feeling that it didn’t seem I’d be feeling again. Whoever loved her was lucky, if they were still around. I watched the snow slow down, thin out. Then it was two or three pieces at a time, falling reversibly, wavering up and down and up again like they didn’t know where to go.

The light stayed on for a few minutes. I saw my reflection in the window. Then the bulb blanked out overhead. In the dark I could hear the cord swinging empty above, but I saw nothing. I knew from the mounting silence that other things were vanishing too. They say everything in the world vibrates at its own specific frequency, each thing releases a tiny bit of sound. But nothing, nothing doesn’t vibrate at all. I felt the heat radiating from my body with no place to go. Dots of darkness that weren’t really there drifted past my eyes. How would I know I was vanishing if there were nobody around to see me? What would tell me that I wasn’t just falling asleep? In the darkness I couldn’t see the disappearing any longer but I knew it was all going, going far, far away. Until gradually I didn’t even know that anymore.

There was a woman in Lincoln, Nebraska, who claimed to be able to communicate with the disappeared. You could call her on the telephone and tell her who you were looking for, their full name, how old, how tall, how heavy. She would go out to the old well behind her house, a well that her grandfather had built decades earlier, and shout that information deep down into it. In the echo that came back they said you could hear whispers from the other side, your loved ones grabbing and molding the shouted words, distorting them to say what they needed said. You had to pay her in real gold, jewelry or bullion: it had to gleam. She wished we could hear their voices as she did, how happy they are, how they miss us. She said that everything that disappeared from our side went over to theirs, where they kept living normal lives waiting for the things still lingering with us to join them, and make the world whole once more.

#literature #short story #alexandra kleeman

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gokinjeespot · 4 years ago

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off the rack #1315

Monday, March 1, 2021

Hi folks. Long time no write.

I have been mostly isolating at home during the pandemic trying to keep myself and my family safe from Covid-19. I do go out and walk around our neighbourhood to get fresh air and exercise. I don't wear a mask outdoors like I do when I absolutely have to go into somewhere other people will be, like the drug store or my dentist's office. I get anxious when people come too close to me masked or not, but I also get angry when there is plenty of space to keep a safe distance and people don't move away. I have verbally admonished someone for being too close but have decided that I will keep my big mouth shut from now on and just get away from them myself. I don't know if I can keep my trap shut if I was confronted by the guy my brother did at work. This young guy came into the liquor store wearing a mask with a swastika on it. That would make me very angry. Angry enough to confront him? I don't know. I would like to be brave enough to ask him "are you for real with that mask?". Or "are you a Nazi?"…"you know the Nazis lost, right?". My brother would not serve him. It could have been worse though. That racist could have gone through his check-out without that ugly symbol on his mask and he wouldn't have known he was serving a bigot. I think it's better when you see them coming.

My thanks to Doug for lending me his comic books to read.

Daredevil #26 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) with Mike Hawthorne (pencils) Adriano Di Benedetto (inks) Marcio Menyz (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). This book may have been put into Doug's sub my mistake but it gave me a chance to catch up with what's happening with the Man Without Fear. This is part 1 of "The Black Kitchen" which ties into Marvel's "King in Black" mega event. Knull is now on Earth and is wreaking havoc. Kinda reminds me of the "Maximum Carnage" event back when I was reading on the regular. Here we have Venom symbiotes running amok in Hell's Kitchen. What I found interesting was the current situations of the main characters. Matt is in prison after being convicted of murder. He can still wear his mask to conceal his secret identity inside. Not true to life but hey, it's comic books. Elektra is now protecting Matt's turf as Daredevil and she's got super scary horns. Wilson Fisk is still mayor with Typhoid Mary as his head of security now. The big shocking ending is that symbiotes get into the prison and one bonds with Matt. Another symbiote bonds with Mary and she attacks Elektra. This sets up overwhelming odds for the good guys as any good comic book will do. Stay tuned.

Action Comics #1028 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) John Romita Jr. (pencils) Klaus Janson (inks) Brad Anderson (colours) Dave Sharpe (letters). Bendis closes out his run on this title with so much schmaltz you're going to need a shovel to get through it. Jimmy Olsen is the new owner of the Daily Planet. What the nique? Conner Kent goes to the farm team. Jonathan Kent goes back to the future and the Legion of Super-Heroes. I don't know if a new art team is going to come on board but I sure hope so.

Detective Comics #1033 - Peter J. Tomasi (writer) Brad Walker (pencils) Andrew Hennessy (inks) Dave McCaig (colours) Rob Leigh (letters). The art on the first page with Batman and Robin tumbling in the foreground with flashback panels behind gave me goosebumps. It's why I will always love reading comic books. Batman beats Hush by giving him a good old fashioned beat down. The rest of the Bat Family is saved and Bruce can take a breather. Now that the Wayne fortune is lost to him I'm curious to see where Bruce ends up after he moves out of the mansion.

Batman/Catwoman #2 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art) Tomeu Morey (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). The jumping back and forth in time is a little confusing for me but I really like this Black Label story. The relationship between these lovers is more than complicated especially where the Joker is involved.

DC kicks off 2021 with a plethora of comic books taking their characters 10 years into the future with their "Future State" event. Doug decided to check out the following.

Future State: Superman vs. Imperious Lex #1 - Mark Russell (writer) Steve Pugh (art) Romulo Fajardo Jr. (colours) Carlos M. Mangual (letters). The story opens with a meeting of the United Planets inner circle. They are debating the inclusion of the planet Lexor which is lorded over by Lex Luthor, the supreme anal pore that we all know and loathe. Lois Lane is Earth's representative and she votes to reject Lexor's membership until Superman lobbies to allow his arch foe's planet to join so that the poor inhabitants don't suffer from Lex's villainous ways. It's a morality tale of Unity, Progress and Compassion.

Future State: Robin Eternal #1 - Meghan Fitzmartin (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Pat Brosseau (letters). In this future Gotham City the Bat Family has been decimated. Bruce is dead, Dick is in Arkham and Jason now works for the law enforcement agency that killed Batman. No mention of where Damian is. I have a feeling that the son of Bruce will show up later as a big surprise. Tim's the last man standing and he's vowed to continue the tradition of keeping Gotham safe. Too bad he doesn't live long fighting against the super cybers. The last panel reveals why this book is called Robin Eternal. Hint: the Lazarus Pits are involved.

Superman: Worlds of War #1 - This $7.99 US anthology of four stories starts off on Earth and ends up on Warworld.

"The Many Lives of Clark Kent" by Phillip Kennedy Johnson (writer) Mikel Janin (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters) is my favourite one simply because I loved the art so much. This is where we find out why Superman is missing from Earth.

"Time and Effect" by Brandon Easton (writer) Valentine De Landro (art) Marissa Louise (colours) & Dave Sharpe (letters) features the new Mister Miracle poking around Warworld. Why? We don't know. Guess we'll find out if we keep reading.

"Midnighter: Future State" by Becky Cloonan & Michael W. Conrad (writers) Gleb Melnikov (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Travis Lanham (letters) has Midnighter running around creating a bloody mess everywhere. It could have just as easily been Lobo or Wolverine in this piece.

Finally "Do Not Go Gently" by Jeremy Adams (writer) Siyam Oum (art) Hi-Fi (colours) Gabriela Downie (letters) features the new Black Racer trying to free the slave labour on Warworld. Unless you're a Jack Kirby Forever People fan you wouldn't care.

As a fan of Mikel Janin's art I would have felt ripped off having to pay for the three fillers in this comic book just to have his work in my collection.

Future State: Catwoman #1 - Ram V (writer) Otto Schmidt (art) Tom Napolitano (letters). Selina is still Catwoman ten years down the line as she attempts to rescue Gotham City citizens being transported to a reformatory by train. Similarities to Nazi behaviour is an easy way to make the bad guys evil. All the previous Batman related Future State books say that Batman is dead but this one has a surprise at the end. Hey, it's Bruce in shackles.

Future State: Dark Detective #1 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). This title blows the whole Bruce/Batman is dead plot device clear out of the water. I can see why the bad guys controlling Gotham City wants the populace to think that, but how are they going to keep up the charade when Batman is clearly running around fighting crime? I like that Batman has lost the cape in this one. This $5.99 US book has a back-up story by Matthew Rosenberg (writer) Carmine Di Giandomenico (art) Antonio Fabela (colours) & AndWorld Design (letters) that I liked even more than the feature. It follows Cole Cash AKA Grifter as he tries to dodge the law. He gets arrested and meets up with Luke Fox AKA Batwing and a whole lot of fun ensues. The Huntress showing up at the end makes this more appealing.

Future State: Dark Detective #2 - Mariko Tamaki (writer) Dan Mora (art) Jordie Bellaire (colours) Aditya Bidikar (letters). This issue explains how Bruce Wayne/Batman "dies" and how Bruce continues to fight crime. I was disappointed that the back-up story didn't follow up on Grifter and Huntress but was a different story about Jason Todd/the Red Hood now working for the bad guys as a bounty hunter capturing masked vigilantes. It starts with him bringing in the Vigilante and ends with him teaming up with a ruthless Ravager to stop an old school Red Hood gang leader stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Rose has no qualms about killing their bounties but Jason brings them in alive, that's why their nickname is "dead or alive". Har. I like Jason's Akira bike.

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