Mrs. Dirksen said to Mom, after we’d given the waiter our drink orders, “Erin, I don’t think you should be letting Tyler use the ladies' room.”

 

“Do you seriously think she should use the men’s room?” Mom asked incredulously. “The machine changed her completely into a girl.”

Webster’s dictionary defines Speed as the fallowing: the rate of change of position along a straight line with respect to time over a set distance. In other words, the quicker you can get from one place to another. The question is what do you do, when your family has spent the last two generations in search of ways to accomplish this goal faster and faster. Would do you do when the family business is the search for more Speed. For Robert ‘Robby’ McGuire the answer is easy. You grab your sister and strap on a pair of Formula One racecars then go for broke.

 
Photo by Daniele Levis Pelusi on Unsplash

Chapter 8 - Confusion

Confusion. A fine old word, comes from the Latin confundere, meaning mingle together. Now there's a concept that describes a young crossdresser - or maybe trans-something - if there ever was one.

One of my least favourite duties as Sheriff, was notifying people that one of their loved ones had died. It is was local then they’d often already know of a death and my arrival would be the confirmation. Occasionally, the death may have happened on the other side of the world and it was down to local law enforcement to do the deed.

Normally I’d go on this task accompanied by a female deputy but on this particular day, Sue-Ellen and Kelly were away helping the State Police on an operation in a neighbouring county so it was left to me to head out to the Wilson Farm to give them the bad news. The other bit of a downer for me was that their home was on the far edge of the county and the last ten miles of the journey is along a dirt road that hasn’t seen a grader for fifty years. Such is the lot of a County Sheriff.

Rescued Me

Snarfles

It was blazing hot; and, even in the darker recesses of the tree in which I perched, the Sun managed to touch me occasionally with it's scorching brilliance. But it wasn't 'just hot', the humidity was so high that sweat ran down the back of my neck like Niagara Falls. To say it was uncomfortable would be akin to saying that Edgar Allen Poe was just a poet.

This is something I never imagined writing. It only came about as a result of a bit of playful word play between Daphne Xu and myself. So Daphne thank you for the inspiration. ‘Elle and Elle not Kiss and Tell for Big Girls’ is dedicated to you.

My Super-powered Diary Chapter 4 With Great Power By Amethyst When Maddock Ainsley gets involved in a rescue operation with his unit things go horribly wrong and his life is forever changed. Can the newly minted Merida cope with being a girl and a teenage super hero?

I hadn’t bothered to stop until I was a few feet away from where the other girls were gathered and staring. “Wot the fook?!"

A tale of egg cups or the lack thereof - well that is likely completely incidental to the story

“I always collected wild vegetables to eat. Milk thistle and the like. They used to be eaten in this country too before folk got wealthy and started calling them weeds. Back home a lot of folk can only dream about being what folk over here call poor. I’ve always collected road kill. It’s just cheap meat and Vince the Mince(3) saves all sorts for me. Stuff other folk won’t eat or stuff he has to spend time on to sell, Breast of lamb, trotters, heads, shin beef and oxtail before some idiot celebrity chef told every one they were good to eat and the price went through the damned roof. Sweetbreads and other offal, he’d just sell to me cheap rather than having to do anything with them. I never told Elle’s mum she was eating sheep head pie just said it was mutton, that sort of thing.

Peter Collins laid in his bed crying to himself. The tears came from the question “Why doesn’t anyone come to see me?” Most of the time he accepted his fate, he knew his decision made the bed he was lying in now. It was his choices which led to Peter being alone. Today was different. That inquiry kept on repeating in his head and not moving on from the question was what made those tear fall.

Shadowsblade a Whateley Tale: Written by Shadowsblade

Created for war and forged in pain, dealing with demons within and without.