In a moment of clarity and inspiration, the second archivist suggested the following plan: track the social trends in our city; map them, finding the inevitable patterns; figure out the dependent and independent variables; create a mapping; and finally, inconspicuously, design public policy to tap into exactly those inputs, in just the right amounts. Prod the organism. Domesticate the animal. Soon, the stochastic trends would form into strands, then chains of strands, then threads. With time, the sum total of human knowledge be kept in the predictable social patterns of our race.
Victoria and her sister Elizabeth spent their Sundays in the shopping district of their small town, on what they called their "promenade," saying the word in the closest thing they could affect to a french accent.
They would start in cafes and sip teas or coffees, nibbling shortbread, or butter cookies. They would each attempt to look both beautiful but also very bored, and would study each other for comparison later on.
When their cups were empty, they would walk, slowly, and purposefully along the narrow cobblestone streets. Looking in the window display of the second-hand and conscription stores and...
She didn't look at him. She felt her cheeks burning but refused to look up, even when Jenny nudged her side. She felt his eyes boring on her.
"Excuse me, what would you like to order?" He repeated. She dared to look up but still avoided eye contact. Instead, she looked at his lips. His perfect lips.
"Small Coke and fries." She practically whispered. Jenny repeated the order, louder.
"Alright, Small fries and a Coke. And for you?" He was gazing at Jenny, not that she would have noticed. She had become mesmorised by his lips. The way his deep...
"This is a little weak on the nose, and blunt in taste. To put it mildly, I wouldn't serve this wine to my guests, nor likely drink it for pleasure." Those were the only words I have ever received, in written communique, as it were, from the famous wine critic Perry Daniels. It was also my first review as a vintner. Unfortunately, besides being in the show, it was also published in the Post. A shame. And great annoyance.
Because of this man, my start in vintering is in somewhat of a decay. I am looking in to brewmaster jobs...
Immediately he ripped his dresser draw open. Rummaging through the clothes all neatly packed. Foot steps are heard fro behind him the faster the steps the faster his arms move. As his hands go farther in the back he reaches his savior. Silver and heavy his desert eagle is aimed at the figure in the doorway. The door closed shut behind him. The footsteps have stopped and his heart still pounding. Sweat dripping his chin to his already drenched shirt. His breathing heavy he clutches his gun. Ready to Fire whom ever this is on the other side of the...
Sunday was when we went. Dad wanted to leave on Sunday so we could avoid the McDonald family, who spent every Sunday molting on the front lawn. Last year, Mr. McDonald's head fell off. He grew another one the next day. Only now his hair was green and he could shoot laser beams out of his eyes. Also, he shat turnips. But enough of that.
We climbed into the station wagon and turned right onto Fallinott Street. The street was named after Lucas Fallinott, who lived in Detroit. He invented the toothbrush in 1762.
As we drove, we saw Mr....
"I have something to tell you."
These are not words you want to hear from your girlfriend when you first walk in the door after a late night at work. Still, Lewis tried to stay calm, tried not to let his imagination get ahead of him. He sat down at the formica kitchen table, looking up at Sadie. She was actually wringing her hands. He thought that only happened in stories. A long pause...
"Well, honey? What is it? You're making me kind of nervous here."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just... Ok. Here goes. I'm... I'm a...
she was huddled down. depleted of all will and thought, the night went by so fast. flashes of light, neon and the sewer gas wafted through her thoughts. then there was that boy, she'd seen him before somewhere. thats was all she thought about now. despite the blisters on her feet from dancing in heels, the dried sweat that made her body clammy, he was all she could think about. she knew she had to see him again, now people were getting up for work. walking along from a long nights rest and recovering from sweet dreams. none of them...
Taste is a matter of where and where you grew up. I am lucky enough to be born in a Country where taste can be seen and savored on a daily base and almost everywhere. Italy is made of taste; great taste, not only concerning the food, but it applies also to cars, shoes, clothing, manners and beautiful ladies. We all know what a man should do to make a lady feel great, isn't that considered taste? When we eat at home or at the fanciest restaurant on the coast do we know what wine is to be matched with...
It started like any sunday morning, with coffee brewing and the literal show Sunday Morning on cbs when we decided to walk our 140-pound saint Brenard, and our smaller dog Casey down by the lake. We had Casey on the leash when Bella, our Saint Brenard, crashed through the brush and tumbled upon a deer that had bedded down. Casey fought her way off the leash and by the time we had found them the deer had gone into the water rather than to face bella. Our two excited dogs of course rushed right in after it
The Waves were...