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Ggarry took the new monkey-face gloves he had had for his birthday and put them on. Garry ran downstairs. A bunch of balloons bobbed invitingly in the hall. Yesterday all his friends had come to tea.

One of them had given him the two monkey gloves as a present. The monkeys pulled the string down and chased the balloons in all directions.

“What about picking them up and tidying after the party” called his mum.

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For the past four decades I’ve lived on the southern coast of Maine. Some sort of pest defined every one of those years. This year, the formidable foe is defined as some of the smallest creatures I’ve ever seen.
Most of the time I can’t see them but having a wife who keeps an immaculate home, gives me the capacity to know when every one of them dares to attack her kitchen.
I am not talking about an infestation even though, if left alone, this could happen. I am talking about a dozen of the little ant-holes that appear every day.
In the past I’ve battled multiple pests. I clearly remember the year of the voles. These appeared as multiple runways that connected tiny openings in my lawn.

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I never thought I would have this specific problem. My grand-kids are getting older, and I am doing the same. They no longer need the crib and all its extras, the car seat of which they both grew out of, and the various accessories and toys that we had in order to make their visits more enjoyable.

Since my wife keeps everything we have as if we just bought it, we talked about giving all of this stuff away to a needy family in our community. We were actually excited about this option because we realize how difficult it is to survive financially with a family.

The first thing I did was contact our local Catholic Church. The person I talked to stated she knew of a new family that was bringing a brand-new child into this World and would love to have the stuff we offered to give.

I was told this will help them appreciably and she would set up a system at which time they could pick it all up. That afternoon my wife organized all of the baby stuff we had so it would be easy to pick up. Continue Reading →

If you are expecting a cute article about how wonderful dogs are and how we couldn’t live without their companionship and lovability you should move on to the next article.

I have no use for the fur bags that live around us. Since I live in the land of dogs and I assume it is in style to at least own a couple of dogs I, on the other hand, would rather chew off my right arm and especially dislike their existence.

The basis of my disdain for this specific life form covers many areas. First of all there favorite activity is to bark. They bark all the time whether it is to simply clear their heads or scare the hell out of anyone who dares walk by.

The people passing usually don’t mind because they are usually walking their own four-legged freak. The stereo sound of dogs drill through my head like a jackhammer does to our urban neighbors. Continue Reading →

“What did you do in college?” Chuck Willard asked. Martin Sullivan gave a wry grin. “I was a grade grubber. I really didn’t have much time for dates. All I could think of was the degree. Graduate school was even worse. I had the reputation of being a brilliant student. Actually, I had to work my tail off, and I didn’t have time for anything else.”

Chuck was a senior engineer in the Engineering Department and had been an enormous help to Martin during the six months that he had been working for the city. They had soon become friends, and Chuck had had him out to the Willard home several times. It was probably those visits that did more than anything else to convince Martin he was missing out on an important part of life.

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At the top of Siachin glacier, sitting outside their igloos, Indian army officers and soldiers measured the depths of their patriotism with sacks of frozen enemy corpses. The sun didn’t foster life there, gasoline did. They lived in a world where the only recourse was vengeance, fueled by an insatiable lust for blood.

Major Jaswant despised these games and had his sights set on retirement. He had dozens of subordinates, but he preferred the company of Lt.Sharma and Lt.Arun. They made him feel young.

From their position atop the glacier, Jaswant and his two comrades watched a contingent of Pakistani soldiers. The sun brightened the ice while the Indian soldiers relaxed as minutes of ceasefire stretched into hours.

The stench of death clung to the freezing winds and they reveled in it. Continue Reading →

1984, was a good year for me,or at least those parts I can still remember. I was a healthy 34 years old and working my way up the American Dream by owning multiple businesses with my wife and watching my beautiful daughter grow ever more beautiful.

Ronald Reagan was our president and, even though I was not a big fan, I had faith in the man who was Governor of California and had an overwhelmingly positive charisma that gave people a positive view on the future of their nation and family.

One thing I never thought I would do, or have the capacity to do, was go back to a date I had already survived. It is so much different now. I never had a problem with my skin but with today’s political realities I look at an image of my face filled with blemishes.

Gone is the excited light in my eyes filled with hope and pride. Most would say this is caused by age. I believe it is caused by the “1984” philosophy of Donald J. Trump. Many of my friends have replaced an excitement for the future with a despair that we will never be able to come back to where we used to be. Continue Reading →

Oh countryside! So changed are thee,
where once we walked forever free.
Long motorways stretch out their greedy hands
to gather more of our fair lands.
From noisy airports thunder planes at pace
to choke the air from human race.

Give back to me the trickling brook and bank,
where many a carefree foot we sank.
A picnic tea, such utter bliss!,
with sun and peacefulness exist.

Take back no more of our fair land!
Please keep a place apart,
for some to find the peace of mind
that comes just from the heart.

England by Wendy R. Chapman.

Contact her at: thetalewagger@hotmail.com

Copyright reserved. No part(s) of these publications may be reproduced, transmitted, transcribed, stored in a retrieval system, or translated into any language in any form by any means without the written permission of the author.

Oour winter has finally come to an end. Most of my neighbors are now tired of the snows and cold wind of our winter nights. The headaches of the next morning are starting to wear on us all and a yearning for old routines are getting more intense as the days passed into the spring.

Walking through the crowds of my neighborhood I saw many of my friends and family wearing flags and ribbons on their lapels and in their hair. The conversations were filled with concerns about what the future has in store for us all. Everyone is a bit concerned with their family’s financial as well as personal security. I guess this is a sign of our times.

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Jjanus was on the verge of complete and utter exhaustion. There could be no doubt about it. He had experienced symptoms of this nature often enough before: gritty irritation of the eyes, fogginess of the brain, arms, and legs that felt like lead weights.

His energy reserves were definitely running low. His arms trailed listlessly by his sides, and he could only just lift his feet, each step requiring a definite, conscious effort of his mind.

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